#I know she's supposed to be abnormally small but that never made sense to me?

[theangrycomet-art]

Mastermind Redesign

Loonatics had some of the coolest villains but never wanted to use them more than once or twice

#Loonatics Unleashed #Mallory Casey #Mastermind #Mastermind LU #LU #TheAngryComet ART #character redesign #is she wearing wierd pants or elaborate thigh highs i don't know #I know she's supposed to be abnormally small but that never made sense to me? #still small in comparison to Tech tho #i'll probably add more green accents next time to break up hip section

[ghostofskywalker]

Just Another Day At Work

Sharon Carter/Reader

Fictober Day 12 of 31

Words: 1,146

Summary: As an experienced art thief, you've been trusted countless times to recover expensive pieces, and you've always delivered on your promises. This time however, the employer has decided that she wants to go on the job as well, and you're not happy about it.

Sharon Carter Masterlist

“Get behind me!”

“Absolutely not!”

You let out a noise that fell somewhere between a groan and a growl before turning to your side. You had expected that the so-called Power Broker would not the easiest person to work with, but you would have at least thought she would have enough sense to know when to shut up and do the things that were in her best interest. “I’m the one who actually knows this building, so be my guest if you’d like to wander through the endless maze of hallways. It would save me a lot of trouble if you died.”

There were a moment of silence before she spoke again, voice pitched lower than it usually was. “Fine,” was the pointed response. “But if this goes sideways, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“If this goes sideways, it would be strictly because of you,” you hissed back. “If you want this fucking trinket back, you’re going to have to hang up that big Power Broker ego for a little while.”

One of the occupational norms of art thievery was that sometimes you were approached by different wealthy benefactors, asking you to steal specific paintings or statues, but you had never been accompanied on a job by the employer before. You supposed this was a unique case, as this was a specific artifact in her home that had been stolen and then sold to a nearby Madripoor museum (who, given the location of their establishment, never cared where the items in their collections came from).

You didn’t doubt that you’d be able to do the job, but she had been a little confrontational until this point, and you weren’t exactly one to catch flies with honey. You had done your research, you knew exactly who Sharon Carter was, and even though you did respect the way she had made a name for herself, that didn’t mean you were going to act starstruck about it.

She opened her mouth to respond, but you heard what sounded like a conversation coming from the next room. Not only was this your first time heisting directly with an employer, but this was also not being done in a completely empty venue. The presence of a fundraiser gala for some cause you didn’t care to look up meant that everything about tonight had to go perfectly, or things were even more dangerous than they usually were. The black-tie attire you were wearing was certainly an obstacle to be overcome as well, as you had a lot more of an advantage in your usual work clothes than you did here.

Thankfully, she seemed to have enough sense to listen to you when you glared in her direction, but you had a feeling that you would be having some words when you were in the (relative) safety of the car.

After dodging a few security guards and moving through the twisted maze of exhibits (while preparing to masquerade as confused and lost gala attendees at a moment’s notice), you finally arrived in the room that you needed to be in. “So what is thing thing we’re stealing anyway?” you asked. That was another abnormality about this job: you didn’t have all the information ahead of time tonight, and it you didn’t like it.

She nodded at one of the cases on the left side of the room, and you could see a small jewel-encrusted box. “There’s something in there I need,” she said as the two of you approached the glass. “And it looks nice on my desk.”

The retrieval was easy enough (you were just grateful that this museum didn’t have too much in the way of security, despite the fact that it felt like it should be the opposite). Once the security cameras were taken care of and the laser grid around the case was neutralized, the act of getting in was simple, and soon Sharon was placing the small box in the interior pocket of the suit jacket she was wearing and you were making sure the case was secured once more. As long as you made it out of the museum’s general area before anyone noticed the box was missing, you would be in the clear.

And so far everything had perfectly fallen into place. It was just your luck that on the way out you would hear whispers of an intruder on the tiny listening device you wore (that was disguised as a pair of glasses), that was on the same frequency as the security guards’ radios. Thankfully the bumbling staff of the museum seemed to have the number of intruders incorrect, and you and Sharon continued to walk towards the exit.

You could hear the faintest sound of footsteps when you were barely a room away from the gala (and the exit you were moving towards), and you knew that if you were caught here you might be searched.

Thinking fast, you grabbed Sharon’s hand and pulled her towards the nearest corner of the room, away from any of the pieces on display. “What?” she asked, clearly upset that you had apparently decided to change the plan at the last minute.

“Trust me,” was the only warning you could give before you leaned in and placed your lips on hers.

It had to look like the two of you were in the throws of passion if you wanted to make it out of the museum without being searched, so the contact was rather intense. Thankfully she seemed to catch onto your plan, and returned the kiss with a pretend passion that honestly set a little fire in your stomach.

You didn’t have to think about that for long though, because you were broken apart by a rather exasperated security guard. “You have to go back to the gala,” he said, and you could tell in his voice that this was not the first time he had caught two people making out in the middle of an exhibit.

Sharon laughed before responding, her voice pitched up higher than you had ever heard it before. “But what if we want to leave?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “We were kind of in the middle of something.”

The security guard sighed. “Fine,” he said. “There’s an exit in the next room, do you need to collect a checked coat?”

“No sir,” you said fake sincerity dripping from your voice. “We have everything we need already.” He didn’t catch the more sinister meaning of your words, but Sharon certainly did.

When the two of you were finally back in the car, driving back towards her headquarters to settle payment for the night, you kept sneaking glances in her direction. Kissing her felt really good, and you would certainly be open to working more with her, especially if it meant you could feel her lips on yours again. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #sharon carter #sharon carter x reader #sharon carter x you #sharon carter x gender neutral reader #sharon carter fanfiction #marvel x reader

[inactive-luv]

The Absence of Rain

The Absence of Rain

"the absence of rain is when good things are most present."

the absence of rain

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N meets a stranger in the rain

Pairing: (Spencer Reid x Autistic!Fem!Reader)

Details: I hope I did my best to convey proper Autistic traits; my ASD is not the same as the readers' character, the same way no one's ASD or Autism is the same.

Category: fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Autism

A/N: I decided to make the reader Autistic. This was originally just a short story I made in English lit class my senior year, but upon rereading it, I decided to use the same prompt to write this fic

...

It's two in the morning. The Virginian rain drizzles as it has for the past two days without stop. She loved the rain, even if it was a sign of sadness or sorrow. She misunderstood it when people said the absence of rain was when good things happened. Until tonight when the theory was proven very, very true.

...

She walked from her job down to the bus stop at two in the morning when it started to rain harder than the usual drizzle from earlier in the evening. She spent time analyzing the splashing of droplets, echoing in her head after a long day. Her head raised to watch the water slap against the glass roof above her.

She stayed like that for a while, soothed after a stressful day by the calming aspects of the rain. She was watching and waiting, sitting in her bus stop seat. Her hands folded in each other to scratch lightly at her fingers, bundles of nerves across her skin aching to be touched.

She wants to stay here forever and quietly wishes for a late bus before her peace is interrupted when she sees a dark figure move across the station bridge. Her face turns puzzled, trying to analyze the new person in her space.

He looks tall from a distance. That's the first thing she notices about his body before she investigates further. She thinks about his satchel bag and his converse shoes, how he holds his umbrella in his right hand, and a book in his left. She can't make out the cover, but it must be pretty slim from how fast he blows through it.

She thinks about what would happen if he would walk over to her. She's seen him only a few seconds, yet she feels drawn or compelled to wonder further. He steps to his side, adjusting his stance, and his face falls under the light of the bus station for a second.

His jawline, eyes, lips, and everything about him leaps out immediately, catching even more of her attention. He must have felt her gaze over him, like an ocean wave crashing over a beach. A certain persistence to discover makes her eyes stay glued to the dark figure.

He swallows his lips before turning to see if she was maybe looking at someone else. He expected it. He expected not to be expected of. So when her eyes stayed fixated on him, he was a little curious. And during this time, all she can think about is if he came closer. Suppose he could turn to her so she could find the thing. The thing about him that made him so compelling.

And he does it. He starts to walk over with his book in one hand and the other in his pocket. The sounds she once found comfort in faded as he walked up to her, and everything turned to silence. The soft patter of the rain, once saturated and abstract ringing through her head, turned pale and hushed.

He watches how her eyes still stay attached to him, almost obsessively. A silence fills the space between the two before he breaks it so haphazardly, she can't help but shudder a little.

"Excuse me?" So she turns her head and is met looking up to the dark figure. He's much taller now that he's closer to her, and his hair is long. Long hair so obviously stretched under the rain, with soft curls ever so innocently framing his face.

He doesn't know what to say after that. He couldn't make out exactly who she was or who he was even expecting but, she was beautiful. He finally took notice of the more calming features about her rather than the creepy stare. He saw how her skin glowed, and her lips parted slightly as if in deep thought.

During this time, he notices the silence forming again, and he breaks it once more before he can hear her voice. "Uhm, can I sit?" He murmurs as an excuse he perhaps too eagerly came up with, taking notice of her puzzled expression. "Yeah, here, let me move my bag." Her voice dribbles out of her mouth, laced with an extensive kindness that intrigued him incredibly.

He mumbles a small 'thank you' back while he undoes his umbrella and takes a seat next to her. His head is facing the street now, but he still feels her eyes on him. It takes him a minute to swallow the lump in his throat before he turns to her again, craning his neck to meet her eye-line looking up at him.

His eyes meeting hers makes her pause for a moment before hastily averting her attention from him to anything in her way. The grass peeking through the concrete or the way the rain filled the puddles on the sidewalk.

And just like that, the silence, as well as it faded out, fades back in. The soft sounds of rain climb back through her ears to fill her brain again. Easily and slowly, she listens to the buckling of the stranger's bag, as if he was trying to make an as little sound as possible not to annoy her. But the sound doesn't upset her. It calms her.

It intertwines with the rain in a calming way. Everything blends smoother than she expected. She expected sounds to scare her as much as they usually do meeting a stranger, but the sound of his skin against the leather, and the pitter-patter of the rain, calm her.

So she's at peace when he breaks the silence once more. Although now, his words don't break the silence as much as they seep into the silent sounds, merging to form a tranquil melody. She realizes she could get used to his voice.

"Where are you coming from at," He looks down at his watch, over his sleeve for convenience, a trick she notices because she does the same thing, "two in the morning?" His tone acts as if he made most of his living in the night; the calmness, even in such an abundant presence of darkness, leads her to believe he'd done this a million times.

"I lost track of time in the library." He smiles again, "I thought only I did that." She smiles back at him and feels her cheeks start to swell and pink. He listens to her words; there weren't any libraries open this late at night he of all people should have known that.

He contemplates asking; further, he really wants to. He wants to listen to her voice again and again over and over because, unlike anyone else's, he thinks he'll never get tired of it. But he doesn't pester; he waits, hoping she'd further the conversation herself.

Little does he know she's thinking the same thing. She was thinking about every question he's asked and every question she wants to ask him. But he was a stranger even if she hoped he wasn't for much longer.

It takes a lot of strength for her to continue the conversation but noticing his peaked interest, her tone of voice heightens, "I was working at the university, that's why I was out so late." His questions are answered and followed by more, "Really? What do you do?" he wanted to know everything about the mysterious girl at the bus stop, and she was willing to answer every one of his asks.

"I help my friend who's a professor there, but I'm a medical examiner." His eyes light up, "Really? That's cool." He tries to keep his voice calm, but it trickles out so quickly, and this time she can catch his investment, and it gets easier to talk to him as if she'd known him a hundred years.

"I look at dead bodies all day. You think that's cool?"

"Well, to be fair, so do I,"

"Oh! Are you a serial killer?" Her best shot at sarcasm was successful, he laughed.

Like a modern orchestra erupting into its triumphant climax, the rain, the air, his laugh soothes her ears until she's blessing the world for her ability to hear. It's a kind of sound that reverberates in her mind and stores itself to her happiest emotion.

A type of sound she wants to hear for the rest of her life, but sadly, all of this excitement at once becomes too much too quickly, and her smile slightly fades while his head is turned.

She didn't have too much trouble with sound, so her anxiety heightened slightly when she became overwhelmed. A type of overwhelmed he could sense before he tried to lighten her mood. "No, I just catch them," He turns to reach into his bag, swiftly pulling his federal badge out and showing it to her.

She reads his badge quietly, "Doctor Spencer Reid." That's the first time she learns his name. A doctor working with the FBI. She reciprocates his actions and reaches into her pocket to pull out a card. On it, her name and medical license. "Doctor Y/N Y/L/N." A doctor working in a hospital.

"I'm in medicine. What about you?" Spencer clears his throat and holds up three fingers in one hand, clutching the card tightly in his other. "Chemistry, mathematics, and engineering." Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms a small 'o'; he just twists his face as if he was used to that answer.

And then, abnormally sudden, the rain started to let up, proving good things do happen in the absence of rain.

...

#criminal minds #reid #luvofyourlifeliv works #luvofyourlifelivworks #spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #autistic spectrum #autistic positivity #autistic characters #autistic reader #ASD #autism spectrum disorder #doctor spencer reid #y/n #fluff #autistic y/n #spencer reid fluff y/n #imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff

[blubrownrpblog]

MUSE/Character descriptions!

Gala:

Gala is the adoptive child of Rung and Magnus! She is an African American girl who is 2’0ft tall and is 4 years old. Gala for the most part is very sweet and naïve, she is also easily influenced by adults and friends.

She has a protecer/mech suit named Zeey, who most of the time stays in her room unless he senses she is in trouble.

Gala often spends her time drawing, playing dress up and tending to her garden on the lost light. She sees both Undex and Sparky as big brothers.

Nicknames given too the Mtmte/LL bots:

Nicknames: Rung(Daddy), Ultra Magnus(Maggy or Papa), Minimus(Mini or papa), Whirl(Werl), Swerve( Steve), Megatron(Meggy-ton or Meggy), Brainstorm(Brainy), Perceptor(Perry or Percy), Nautica(NaNa), Trailbreaker(Trail or Sleepyhead),Ratchet(Ratty, she heard drift call him that or Grandpa ), Drift(Dwift), Rodimus(Roddy), Froid(Bad man) and Verity(V or big sis, even though she knows their cousins!), Red alert (scardy cat or red),Fort max(Maxie), Silverblade(Mr knight), SG silverblade(Alpha),Unicron (Uncle Uni)

If I missed anyone let me know!

Undex:

Undex is the Sparkling of both Nautica and Rodimus! Undex is a very Brave and intelligent little boy,he is also only 7 years old. He looks up to his sire and wants to be a prime one day! Though Undex pretends to be tough he tends to cry and get embarrassed really easy.

Undex’s best friend/bro is Sparky! He is the only one on the ship(as of now) knows that Sparky is a kremzeek. He often tries to help Sparky be come more like a cybertonian, he’s never one to not help a friend in need.

Undex is know for being abnormally short for a sparkling but hates when people point it out. Whenever a bot or person states he’s small he often quickly turns to rage. He’s known for having a small amount of anger issues. This as of recently has caused him to have the ability to explode, though it won’t kill a normal sized mech to be killed it will burn/ blow them back quite a bit.

Undex also can drag a mech around Rodimus size and carry a mech around Tailgates size if he needs to.(this is because primes in my universe aren’t supposed to have child, so some side effects will occur! :D).

Kup is often seen as seen around Undex, and usually takes care of him.( @blustering-old-fool )

Sparky:

Sparky is the adoptive Sparkling of Whirl, he is also not a cybertonian but a kremzeek in disguise! He is very polite and sweet, he will often introduce him self by bowing or shaking his hand. He is also very oblivious since he was alone most of his life, not quite understanding certain things unless told to him by Undex.

Sparky is 9 years old, that makes him the oldest on the blog as of now. Sparky often spends most of his time with Gala and Undex playing around, As of now Undex and Gala are the only ones who know he’s a kremzeek as stated before hand. Since Sparky is a kremzeek in a body made from parts he found, he often can’t feel most pain. Sparky also can’t feel hungry for energon, so if he goes to long and forgets to refuel his body will collapse making it difficult to move.

Sparky mostly feeds off electricity, both from appliances and bots(though it won’t kill them, it’s kinda like a succubus type of thing). So he often eats from Undex or the ship itself, this causes blackouts. Sparky usually doesn’t escape his body unless he’s alone with his friends or there’s an emergency.

Sparky often calls his adoptive sire whirl “caretaker” instead of “sire” this is because he is scared whirl will never truly accept him as his son knowing he isn’t cybertonian. Sparky often gets weird looks from bots as well because they think he has empurata, but truly he could find a face plate that fit and another optic. Sparky is usually use to people being scared or judging him but he tries to stay positive anyway. Maybe because he’s made of positive energy? He really doesn’t know.

Sparky has the ability to manipulate electricity, he also has the ability to create different type of magnetism. This causes other bots to sometimes float, be attached and sometimes be repelled. Though Sparky will never use this on another bot unless he’s pranking or defending himself. This also causes him to get tired really quickly and requires more energy.

Gale(Tailwind):

Gale is the sparkling of Tailgate and Cyclonus! He is the only adult of all my muses and is currently a few hundred years old! He is seen as the eldest brother of the four of them.

As of now he is not currently on this blog at the moment, though he will be mentioned by the kids occasionally. I have plans of bringing him over here soon!

#character headcanons #we did it bois finally #if anyone wants to be mentioned please let me know!)

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it. 

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat. 

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave. 

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy. 

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered. 

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised. 

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay. 

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin. 

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently. 

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly. 

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.” 

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.” 

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint. 

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au #starwars

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

#writing #please fix the story #sci fi #world hopping #memory loss #giant robots #aliens #more memories #call back to the peeled apples from the zombie arc if anyone remembers that far back #so happy to post this part finally. #weight off my chest

[henqtic]

learning- d.m

- summary: one where Draco learns how to do your hair, you being a poc- more specifically a black girl with curly hair :)

- word count: 1.4k

- warnings: mentions of being insecure about your hair

- more works with black/ poc readers → Hat & “just one more hour”

- masterlist | gif creds | taglist form |

——

“Draco I love you but— just not that much,” you said through a grimace, only making him roll his eyes again.

Draco was always one to offer you help on wash days, knowing how much time it took you to do all of that on your own and honestly, you appreciated that.

But today as the conditioner was getting combed through your hair, he brought up the idea of doing it for you— And no he didn’t mean the basic task of combing a product through your hair, but he meant actually doing it.

And it wasn’t that you thought he could... Of course not. And as dramatic as it sounds, you didn’t want to take the risk. What you mean by that is that Draco is someone you would classify as a mom friend.

Being called a mom friend wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was one of those good titles that any person would want to have in a friend group. And even though Draco didn’t seem like the type, he was always that person to make sure everyone else was taken care of— even if it was in his own way.

It could vary from making sure everyone’s assignments were done in time to them eating enough and the really surprising one— comforting people.

And you could tell that he wasn’t completely comfortable or familiar with it but he tried his best when he needed to.

You had caught him many times in some corner trying to comfort some first year Slytherins a few days into the school year because they missed their parents and when he did see you, he’d give you a look of ‘this never happened’.

But being a mom wasn’t an easy job, there were times where’d they’d get angry because a kid had the great idea to draw on the walls instead of on the paper right beside them. And to say Draco fit that role perfectly was an understatement.

He once not only scolded Daphne for forgetting her sunscreen when you went on a trip to the beach but he also provided her a lengthy lecture on how she could’ve easily have gotten sunburned and we would’ve had to drive around with a flaky friend.

You couldn’t lie that it was amusing to see an adult get scolded by another adult like a five year old but to be on the receiving end didn’t sound too fun.

——

And you had to admit that sometimes you did miss that routine you had with your mom on early Sunday mornings.

She’d tell you to get the bucket of hair supplies and you’d take your place to sit in between her legs, allowing her to start combing and brushing your hair into whatever style she saw fit for the next few days.

The small conversations that were held between you and her weren’t important in any way— you couldn’t remember half of the words spoken now but it meant a lot to you in the sense that it was a calm- ish period for you and her to talk about mother and daughter things.

But every good thing just had to have a downside and this one was a shared experience amongst many people in your community.

Uncooperative hair.

And it seemed that you had one of the most. You tried, really, but you could never keep your head still or neck at a specific angle for too long, and that only led to hair tugging and you in almost tears.

And maybe thinking was a little flawed. But you were still scared that Draco would do just the same if you allowed him.

And that’s exactly what you voiced and of course, he said that wasn’t a good enough argument and continued to go on and on about all of the reasons you should let him and how it would have benefits for the both of you.

——

“You know, it would show how much I care,” he said, providing yet another reason as to why you should let him do it.

“You’re showing how much you care right now— I promise,” you assured, eyes skimming the bathroom to find the heated shower cap.

“But what if there’s a day where you’re too tired to do it and then I could do it all by myself?”

He was close to convincing you but he failed to remember the fact that there actually were days where you were too tired to do it but you still woke up very early just to do some style that you had set in your mind.

And even then, your eyes were barely opened so if you had to do it now, you would be too phased.

“What about our future kids? What’s supposed to happen when I have no idea how to do their hair?”

Kids. They weren’t something you actively talked about but it was for sure something you wanted to have in the future. And he was right, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Even if the hair type that he had was far from many black people, it wouldn’t make sense for a child’s own father to not know the basic needs of their hair— including how to do it.

“Fine— but if I feel one tug I won’t hesitate to get up and leave,” you threatened, pointing a comb at him and playfully narrowing your eyes at him to add effect. He only snatched it out of your hand while smiling in success and happiness.

“You won’t regret it.”

Deja vu; it was the only term that could describe what you were feeling at this moment of finding yourself in between someone’s legs, waiting for them to do your hair.

And while Draco was a little clueless, it was cute. You really didn’t mean to laugh when asked what happened to one of the combs that were missing a third of its teeth, but the look of pure shock on his face was too funny for you to resist the laugh that bubbled out.

And telling the truth, the experience wasn’t half as bad as you expected it to be. There weren’t too many snags or tugs along the way or rough actions— it was calm and gentle. And having to assist him on what product to put on your hair and when to do it was rare.

It was heartwarming really, knowing that he had actually been paying attention when he’d sit there and watch you in the bathroom for an hour or so after your hair had been washed.

That he had been listening when you’d rant about how hard it was dealing with your hair and how it would never look the right way even though there is no right way for natural hair to look.

It was the pure knowledge that he actually meant the words he spoke to you that made you so happy; how he’d hold your face in both of his hands and tell how beautiful both you and your hair were and the only reason you should ever think about relaxing it was if you wanted to do it for yourself and not because it would be more accepted by judge full eyes.

It was nice to know that he wasn’t just saying those things because he felt some sort of obligation but that it came from the heart.

——

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were looking at now; not only did your hair look moisturized but the style had come out somewhat good.

You were a little surprised and Draco noticed that too. “You look surprised,” he pointed out in a smug tone, eyes finding their way to look into your wide ones through the mirror. “I’m not surprised, I'm just— how did you do so well?” You questioned, body turning to face his.

“Love don’t tell me you— Di- Did you really doubt me?” He gasped, dramatically placing his right hand over his heart to further feign his ‘hurt’.

“Okay, I did doubt you in—”

gasp

“In the beginning, but now that I actually saw how you did, I regret it. And thank you for being willing to learn,” you continued, this time not getting interrupted by his dramatics.

“It was the least I could do for you,” he assured, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Me and your mum weren’t talking about your abnormally sized head for nothing.”

“Hey! My head is a perfectly normal size.” 

“Yeah alright,” he said unconvinced, cracking his knuckles and shaking his hand. “My hands had to pay the price too.”

“You're an idiot Draco—”

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[malkumtend]

Regrets - An AU where Squirrelflight and Crowfeather ran away from the clans.

Art by @lonely-ghost-606

…

“Do you have any regrets about what we did?”

“What do you mean?” Crowfeather yawned, raising his head and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He looked to his side. He thought she was curled beside him, ready to sleep off the rabbit they had caught earlier. Instead, she lay on her back, staring up at the night sky.

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?” Squirrelflight said, her tone too dry to sound annoyed.

“I… I guess.” Crowfeather shifted so his head was above hers. “I’m just wondering why you’d ask that.”

Squirrelflight shrugged, her emerald eyes looked dulled by the dark hills. “I’m just wondering.”

Crowfeather felt a sharp gust of wind scratch his coat with cold claws. He grunted. “I see.”

“So do you?”

Crowfeather’s brow furrowed. Did he regret what they did? There were many things that they did. He scanned the hills around them, focusing on an invisible distance they’d long since abandoned. To the left of them, a few tree-lengths from the steep hill they’d decided to camp at, a thick ground of unsearched woods lay open for the pair to explore. Even though they weren’t close, Crowfeather could catch the unknown smells that beckoned them further away from their original lives.

Crowfeather thought they would go into it tomorrow.

“Not especially.” Crowfeather said. He watched Squirrelflight blink, the same blank expression on her muzzle. The tom’s tail curled closer to his partner. “It wouldn’t do me any good to regret now. It’s too late for that.”

Squirrelflight’s muzzle scrunched in a way Crowfeather couldn’t read. Her ears twitched gently. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I know.”

Her voice drifted into the night like a dying hope.

Crowfeather bit his lip, the pain offered a good counter to the uncomfortable quivering along his tail. He looked away, debating if he wanted to ask the question or hear her answer. “So… Do you have any regrets?”

Squirrelflight cast him a glance, her head edging back. Their eyes locked for a minute. Crowfeather waited, uneasy but patient. Squirrelflight’s mouth opened a few times but closed within a blink. The cold air around them and the whistle of the night was the only consistency of their silence.

The silence was frustrating. So incredibly frustrating. Crowfeather fought to hold his tongue.

If there was one thing he knew, he couldn’t rush her.

She needed her own time.

So, he suffered through the quiet, if that was what she needed to speak.

Even if he was scared of what she might say.

Squirrelflight exhaling through her nose made Crowfeather jolt back to attention. “No.”

Crowfeather settled a little, but he kept his gaze fixed. “But?” He sensed.

“There isn’t really a but…”

“So why did you ask then?”

“Guess I just wanted to know.”

“What?” Crowfeather’s muzzle creased, “It’s a bit of a random question, don’t you think?”

Squirrelflight’s eyes narrowed, “Well ‘sorry’, I just thought I’d ask.”

A low hum rumbled in Crowfeather’s throat, his ears flattened back. “No normal cat ‘just asks’ something like that?”

“Was that supposed to be a jab?” Squirrelflight closed her eyes with a huff, “I don’t think you’re in any position to call any cat abnormal.”

“And you are?”

“You’re missing the point, mouse-brian.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Squirrelflight rolled onto her side, effectively ending the conversation is she so wished.

Despite the heat storming his ears, Crowfeather knew in his gut that fighting wouldn’t help them. If he wanted a reason from his mate, he wouldn’t get it by making her mad.

Even if she was the one who started it…

Crowfeather grumbled, then he sighed.

By the stars, they were a couple of overgrown apprentices. He looked down at her, his mouth thin, almost feeling he could laugh at the stubbornness glaring off her.

She really was difficult when she wanted to be.

But then again, so was he.

They matched each other, and maybe that was why they were stuck with each other.

Crowfeather offered a light touch of his tail to her back. He heard a low mumuring he couldn’t decipher, but he assumed it was something to do with his tail and a mouse trap. He chuckled lightly, keeping his touch on her. Slowly, Squirrelflight’s back stopped shivering and he saw her body descend with a low breath.

Then her tail moved, the tip laying over his.

All was buried and forgiven.

Crowfeather sniffed, the sound reverberated over the hills. “Did I do anything to make you think I regretted leaving the clans?”

Squirrelflight started up, her tail flaring, before going still. Slowly she rolled onto her belly, facing the tom. It was hard to read the sinking expression, but Crowfeather assumed that she was fighting between giving the easy answer or the truth.

“No, I just thought… I dunno, you might have thought about it.”

“Well, I haven’t.” Crowfeather leant down a little, trying to match her height. “So, have you?”

Squirrelflight looked down. Crowfeather noticed her fur lying flat on her back. “Well…”

Crowfeather inhaled tightly. “You have, haven’t you?”

Squirrelflight didn’t respond straight away. “N- Well, I…” He could tell she hated the idea of lying to him. “Not for long.” When she looked up and saw Crowfeather’s stilted gaze she let out another sigh. “But yeah.”

A short, relative silence filled the air, as Crowfeather alternated between casting this off as a bad dream or waking up and wishing that it was. Either way, he said nothing. The idea that she could regret going with him, that she could regret him, filled him not with anger but a crushing guilt.

“Do you want to go back?” He said quietly.

Her eyes flashing, Squirrelflight rose up with a mrrow of shock. “Of course not!” She meowed.

Crowfeather looked at her with a shadowy scepticism. He was afraid to feel relieved.

“I didn’t mean I regret running away in the first place.” Squirrelflight said, giving her mate a hard stare.

“So what did you mean?” Crowfeather asked, his voice low as he sat on his hind legs.

Squirrelflight turned away with a groan. Her tail was thumping against the ground in clear irritation.

The fact she didn’t look at him made him second guess that he was the focus of it.

“It’s just…” Her breathing began to slow down and her movements became sluggish and tired once more. As another cold gust passed them, Squirrelflight was reserved once more to a still shadow. Her gaze kept low. “You don’t regret anything about leaving?”

Crowfeather paused. “Nothing I can think of.”

“So the idea of leaving was never… scary to you?”

The dark tom’s brows rose.

“The fact that you’re never going to see your family again.” Squirrelflight said softly. “That never bothered you?”

Crowfeather stared. Squirrelflight’s whiskers twitched as a look of pain grazed her. He didn’t need to think twice about who she was thinking of. But, as soon as she mentioned it, he did find the face of a sleek grey cat fill his vision.

A cat he had never said goodbye to.

Like she could have understood that.

“You’re not scared that you don’t have a clan anymore?” Squirrelflight stiffened.

Scared. The word confused Crowfeather for a bit, but he thought he knew what she meant. The safety, the security, the pattern. Knowing you would be protected, knowing what to do every day without worry, knowing that you had a clear pattern to follow. Comfort and reliance.

“That’s what’s bothering you.” It wasn’t a question. “You miss your family and your clan.”

Squirrelflight looked up as if she was shocked at how reserved his tone was. “Don’t you?” She asked.

Crowfeather thought back. It wasn’t an unfair question. Any normal cat would miss those they grew up with every day of their lives.

But like Squirrelflight had said, he didn’t have the right to judge what was normal.

“I miss my mother sometimes.” Crowfeather admitted. “But that’s about it. I didn’t have anyone else I was close to in Windclan.”

Squirrelflight mrrowed in astonishment. “Seriously?”

Crowfeather gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re talking to me, remember? If you thought I was bad on the journey, you wouldn’t want to see me in my clan.” To his delight, Squirrelflight betrayed herself with a small chuckle. “I suppose I was close to…  my mentor. But… that’s buried bones.” The less he said about Mudclaw, the better.

Squirrelflight knit her brows together, staring at the ground with a slackened jaw. Her shoulders had sunk under an invisible weight.

Crowfeather pursed his lips and took a hesitant step towards her. When she didn’t flinch away, he stopped just when he was close enough to graze his paw with hers. “I take it you have fonder memories of your clan?” Like that was hard.

Against her better instincts, Squirrelflight stared ahead to the hills. As if they could see the shape of the forest they once knew. “Sometimes.” She echoed him. Her ears fell down like dying leaves. “I miss my sister terribly. We were always close.”

Crowfeather nodded, a sympathetic hum on his lips. “You must have been. If not I don’t think she would have let you leave like that.”

When Squirrelflight had shown up at the border with Leafpool, Crowfeather had almost burst from the terror. But it only took a moment and a good look at the medicine cat’s wet eyes for him to realise she was keeping their secret. Even as the weeping sisters embraced one final time, Leafpool had not even looked like she was going to reveal their secret.

And from how far they’d gotten since then, it seemed that she never had.

“I think about my parents as well. About whether they’re worried about me or not.”

“Of course they are.” That didn’t seem like a comfort or a jab.

“Well if they are,” Squirrelflight took a sharp intake of breath, “I can’t help but feel bad. I want Thunderclan to carry on without me, not waste time looking for me. If there’s a patrol looking for us right now,” She grimaced, “I hope they give up soon. They have their own problems to deal with and I shouldn’t be one of them.” Her face went dull again, as if being stung by a wasp too many times to feel the pain.

Crowfeather blinked slowly. “They will be looking for you.”  He dipped down so his cheek rested against hers. He was relieved when she nestled a little closer to him. “And that’s because you mean something to them.”

He’d been torn between comforting her with what he knew was true, reminding her of the love of home, and the beckon of silence that could keep her close to him.

But it hadn’t lasted long.

“My clan won’t care a whisker where I am, I can promise you that. But yours will search day and night for you, they’d only do that for a cat like you.”

Squirrelflight scoffed, “What? A leader’s daughter.”

“No. An amazing, beautiful Warrior.” He purred. He watched Squirrelflight’s eyes go wide and felt her face fill with heat. Her breathing began to become thin. Crowfeather lowered his eyes again. Her happiness pricked his determination once more.

“And if you miss them that much, we can go back.”

Squirrelflight paused.

Crowfeather coughed away the tightening in his throat. “I mean, if you think you’d be happier there… it’s worth it.”

“Don’t be silly.”

A brushing feeling curled under Crowfeather’s chin. Now it was his turn to go stiff. He laboured above Squirrelflight as she purred under his chin, her small body feeling perfect against the curve of his own. Her thick fur rustled against him, making his face drain of colour.

“I wouldn’t have left if I thought I’d be happier there.”

Crowfeather’s gaze skittered down until he found her. She was warm under him, smiling with a crescent moon grin. “But you said...”

“That I have regrets, but not that I regret everything.” Her muzzle had nuzzled into his chest and when he peered down he could barely see the hard determined glint of emerald. “I do miss my family. But when I don’t think of them, I think of everything else in Thunderclan.”

The fire that burned her scowl communicated the images of her thoughts.

The bitter feud of two toms, demanding their place beside her, too engrossed in their hate to notice the disgust on her face.

The way her clanmates offered nothing but tired grimaces and pleads for the peace of quiet whenever she made her voice heard.

The way her parents warned her to stay close to the clan whenever a cat complained of her ‘too-close’ relationships with the cats she travelled with for moons.

The way that it only took the mere sound of her voice to illicit a groan somewhere she couldn’t see, but she knew was close.

She could remember it all with a painful clarity.

Crowfeather licked her forehead gently.

“Trust me, I’m not so desperate that I’d want to go back to that.”

“Okay.” Crowfeather said, even though he wasn’t sure how he could even mutter that one word as his throat felt like it had been stuffed with dirt. He listened to her purr underneath him until his paws felt strong again and the cold air somehow felt refreshing.

Then he blinked, brows furrowing again. “Wait. If you don’t want to go back, then why did you ask me if I regretted leaving?”

Squirrelflight went still, and while that did make Crowfeather chill a little he did think an answer was deserved.

“Well, just because I’m happy here didn’t mean you were.” Squirrelflight broke away a little, licking her shoulder quietly. “You never told me much about your life in Windclan.”

“You wouldn’t want to know.” Crowfeather rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. I don’t have the fondest memories of Windclan, Squirrelflight.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t is obvious? If you wanted to go home then…” She trailed off, looking at her paws again.

Crowfeather had been stunned into silence. He tried to make something articulate, but his mouth hung half-way, as if it was trying to mimic actual speech.

Did she honestly think he wasn’t…

“Crowfeather.” Squirrelflight addressed, as stern as ever. It drew Crowfeather to look down until he was eye to eye with the hard-faced ginger cat. “There aren’t great memories for me in Thunderclan, but if there were for you.” There was only the briefest flash of fear of the molly’s face. “I’d want you to be-”

Her voice came out into a squeak as she felt herself dragged off her hind paws. Her head hit something soft and firm as her backside slid along the calm drifting grass. Squirrelflight couldn’t catch her breath as she felt something on her chest, gently holding her in place like a kit in its mother’s mouth. In the dark, it was hard to make it out as Crowfeather’s foreleg.

She realised, face burning all the while, that the soft mound her neck rested on was actually Crowfeather’s smooth chest. His steady heartbeat patted her skin, as if mocking her rapid pulse.

She was about to pull herself away when she felt a soft touch to her cheek. Along with a soft smacking sound.

Squirrelflight’s protests died before they could begin.

That hadn’t been a nose peck or a lick.

What it had been… Well it made Squirrelflight realise she couldn’t say a word even if she tried.

The alarm, the surprise of moments like this with Crowfeather, moments she could hardly imagine he was capable of, it just made her melt where she was.

Which only meant she eased deeper into his embrace.

“Now look who’s being silly.” Crowfeather uttered. Each word was warm on Squirrelflight’s already burning cheeks.

“Hu-Hu-Huh?” The slightest sound was all Squirrelflight found she had the strength to gasp, and even then she stuttered as if every part of her didn’t feel like hot sand. The rumbling in her chest was bizarrely comforting.

“Why would I ever go back to Windclan?”

Squirrelflight couldn’t whisper the obviousness of her soaring doubts.

But that was okay.

Because Crowfeather wrapped his foreleg just a bit tighter around her, and actually pulled her gently against him. And when he spoke it tingled everywhere. “I’ve been at home ever since I met you.”

With that, he gave her cheek another deserved kiss.

As the feeling burst over her once more, Squirrelflight found herself shaking far less than she could have ever imagined. Her paws cradled over the foreleg on her chest, holding onto it with all the care she could muster. Her heart rate began to soften until she heard it perfectly align with his. Only just a little less noticeable than the shimmer of their purrs.

As her neck peacefully sank back, her cheek being cradled by the warmth of his neck, Squirrelflight felt the invisible shape of the forest sink away until she couldn’t see it in the shadows anymore.

And she found she was okay with that.

She closed her eyes, not caring enough to give some witty comeback that may have suited her.

It didn’t suit this.

But Crowfeather spoke nonetheless. “Y’know, I’m kind of surprised, Squirrel.”

“About what?” Squirrelflight said, not opening her eyes.

“When you talked about regrets, my first thought was that you were scared about Starclan.”

“Oh.” Squirrelflight edged back a little more. “No, I’m not worried about that.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“I… How come?”

Squirrelflight opened her eyes as she craned her head just enough to peck Crowfeather’s chin with her nose. She giggled as she felt his heart begin to thump. “Just look at the stars.”

Crowfeather did and, despite the cold air, or the grey clouds that passed like fading wounds, he could have sworn the stars had never looked so beautiful as he pulled the ginger cat close once again.

...

Side note - this is not an indication of what will happen in ILYL. It is a separate AU.

And to hell with it, if I say these humanised cats can kiss they can kiss. So there!

Anyway this is the last Drabble until the next chapter of ILYL is finished. Hope you liked them so far.

#squirrelcrow #squirrelflight #crowfeather #warrior cats #warriors #warriors au #Drabble #lonely ghost 606

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (4)

Chapter Four- Now or Never

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Your supposed ally leads you to an unlawful nation where danger lurks at every corner. Bucky starts to see you in a different light.

Warnings: Sexual objectification. Very bad undercover work. Calling Sam daddy. Sexual innuendos.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I am very humbled that people have been enjoying the story and liking it so far! This means to me a lot as a novice writer! ☺️

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, felt like I got more to expand for the Madripoor episode. I love to know what y’all think of it so far! 😘

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join with a message or comment in the chapters!

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Five

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As Zemo made arrangements on his end, you did not know what to expect. You, Sam and Bucky were brought to the tarmac of a small private airport, your attention was brought to the private plane that Zemo was leading you towards.

Sam made a comment on Zemo’s wealth and the latter explained that he was practically royalty before the Avengers destroyed his country. Touché.

You took the seat right across from Zemo and you couldn’t help but put your guard up around the man. He could sense the tension all over your face and offered champagne to which you declined. You wanted to make sure you were fully sober around this guy.

As you looked on at the exchange he had with his steward, he almost looked decent for a moment. You wouldn’t have thought of this guy to be a manipulative and scheming man that caused that chain of events many years ago.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell.” Zemo started off after having a sip of his champagne. He then paused in his actions as he looked over all of you and corrected him.

“Oh that’s right, you all do. My apologies.” Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms as you leaned into the comfort of the plush aeroplane seat.

Sam tried to get Zemo to start talking but the baron brushed it off for a moment as he looked at a book in fascination. As Zemo brought up a familiar notebook, he asked who Nakajima was.

Your eyes perked up at the familiar name and you immediately turned to look at Bucky who instantly pounced on Zemo and grabbed him into a chokehold. Bucky warned him not to touch his notebook or he would actually kill Zemo, probably with his bare hands.

As Bucky settled down in his seat once more, you gave him a knowing look but he averted his eyes to avoid eye contact. The conversation then took a more light-hearted turn as Sam tried to describe how Steve noted down his suggestion of the Trouble Man soundtrack in the notebook that now was passed onto Bucky.

Sam asked if Bucky liked it too and the super-soldier replied that he liked 40’s music to which Sam look almost offended that Bucky didn’t share his taste in music. Bucky looked like he didn’t even want to bother but he clarified that he indeed liked it just to get Sam to back off.

Zemo decided to join in the conversation and put his two cents. Sam was surprised at how Zemo managed to eloquently describe the music style. Afterwhich, Sam went on to say how everyone loved Marvin Gaye while Bucky agreed that he did too.

Sam added that Steve adored the singer too. Hearing this, Zemo commented that Bucky must have looked up to Steve very much.

Yes, we all did. You wanted to add that in too.

Zemo, however, then took the liberty of giving his view on Steve. He talked about how dangerous it could be to idolize super soldiers like Steve and start to disregard their flaws, thus allowing him to not be held accountable for the repercussions that stem from his actions. Even if that meant the formation of movements, the fighting of wars, the loss of innocent lives.

Sam gave him a warning to better stop talking but Zemo continued on. When Zemo noticed how you started shaking your head in dissatisfaction, he gave a light chuckle before speaking directly to you.

“Miss Y/N. Contrary to my own personal views on enhanced individuals, I do find you fascinating, The files I read on you only make me more curious. Can I ask some questions?” You could feel the attention being put on you in the room and you grew slightly uncomfortable.

“What do you want?” Hoping to act nonchalant to mask your nervousness, you crossed your legs and leaned back into your seat.

“You have no family history. You grew up in an orphanage, am I right?” Nodding at the facts he laid out, Zemo carried on.

“You couldn’t have possibly been experimented on. You have gotten into any accidents?” You shook your head in response.

“Chemical exposure, radioactive bites, cosmic ray exposures….those are the possibilities that an ordinary person could obtain superhuman abilities according to the theories online.” Unimpressed, you continued to shake your head at him.

“Tell me. I’m curious.” You couldn’t entertain the likes of him but seeing how he was leaning in to wait for your answer, you gave an indifferent expression before speaking.

“It appeared out of nowhere. Someone committed arson in the local convenience shop where I was at the time. I was trapped with the elderly shopkeeper and I thought we were both going to die. A burning beam was falling onto us and I thought that was the end. I suddenly emitted a burst of energy that managed to put own the fire and incinerate the beam into ashes.” As you retold your story, memories of your fear from that time came back.

“The shopkeeper lost consciousness but I saw everything. I wasn’t sure if it was me but I ran away. I couldn’t’ return to the orphanage because I was afraid the police would find me. I lived on the streets for a week before my powers manifested again.” Your eyes fall to your fidgety hands, cracking your knuckles as it gave you some sort of relief.

“A kid was crossing the street without his mum knowing and a car was speeding on the road. I tried to reach out and pull him back in but the car was just inches away from us both. I caused a scene that couldn’t be ignored. S.H.I.E.L.D managed to find me and took me in.” Zemo’s eyes were tracking your every movement and expression in a way that Bucky didn’t like. As if you were something up for display and Bucky put his foot down.

He was getting protective of you and did not want Zemo to harbour any hidden intentions. Who knew what Zemo was thinking of?

Zemo spoke up before Bucky had the chance.

“Fascinating just fascinating. It’s like your powers had been dormant inside you all along. Are you even human?”

“Last time I checked, my blood is still red.” Your sarcastic response earned a laugh from Zemo and he stroked his chin as he continued to observe you quietly. Sensing he had more thoughts in his mind, you returned the questions back to him.

“You hate enhanced individuals so much, would you get rid of me if you had the chance?” Growing a smirk, Zemo wasn’t expecting you to ask him that and he was more than eager to give his reply.

“I am undecided, but you’re different. I can see you are more discreet than the others, just like Bucky over here.” Zemo made his final remark before he moved on to talking about the location that you were headed.

His words sunk in and you kept on thinking about how he hit the nail on the head.

Yes, you had to be more discreet. You could never proudly show off what you had, instead, you had to keep yourself hidden in order to protect yourself.

Recalling your S.H.I.E.L.D days, you remembered how you were told to keep your powers on a low profile by Director Fury himself.

Your lab results came back and it was discovered that you had a special gene in your DNA that could be identified. There weren’t any references or connections to existing research and findings so you were viewed almost as an abnormality.

It was then later discovered that your powers were connected to your life force and if you ever over-exerted yourself, you could possibly die. That almost happened back during the civil war between the Avengers. It was the first time you ever used your powers on a larger scale and you had even passed out at the end of the battle.

You remembered waking up in a hospital bed on the raft.

When you found refuge in Wakanda, you got to learn more about your powers with Shuri’s help. She believed as long as you trained your stamina and built up your strength, you could control your powers without ever worrying about being drained. That’s how you found yourself the privilege to receive special training with the Dora Milajae under King T’Challa’s request.

You definitely owed the Wakandans big time.

Seeing how you were uncharacteristically down, Bucky wanted to check in with you out of concern. However, he chose to restrain himself, thinking that you probably one to be left alone. He wished he could do more for you like you do for him.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Before you knew it, you landed in Madripoor. An island nation that was lawless and dangerous, yet home to the darkest of black markets and underground businesses. Zemo said that all of you could not go in as yourselves and had to basically go in undercover.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter when Sam changed and came out in a fancy printed suit. He was to act as a real life promiscuous and rich man who really could have been his doppelgänger when you saw a picture of the man.

However, you weren’t one to laugh when Zemo asked you to act as one of Conrad Mack aka Smiling Tiger’s fling for the night. When you first received your outfit, you threw it back in Zemo’s face.

You were not the most comfortable with sexy and revealing clothing personally so you couldn’t imagine yourself wearing it at all. Zemo tried to convince you that Smiling Tiger’s women were all of a certain type so you had to go through with it in order to fit in.

Letting out a groan, you snatched the little champagne dress with an open keyhole back. The front was designed to give a loose look that shyly reveals your cleavage. The dress held onto your shoulders with thin straps and it overall gave the impression of a silk slip dress.

When you put it on, you wiped your clammy hands on the silk material and grimaced at how it barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the shoes you received had thick block heels as you had forgotten how to even walk in high heels anymore.

Swiping on the red lipstick for the final touch, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you looked in the mirror. You got this.

Stepping out of the changing room, you were met with the full attention of all three men and you put a finger up to warn them of making any unneeded comments.

“Damn Y/N. I mean this in the nicest way possible but this is an entirely different look for you. In a good way, of course.” Sam tried to compliment you seeing that you weren’t fully into your outfit.

“Thanks, Sam.” You knew his intentions were always pure and good, so you didn’t mind it much. As he and Zemo went off to discuss something, you saw that Bucky was still looking at you intently. He must think you look weird, you thought.

In all the years that Bucky have known you, it was the first time he has seen you looking like this. You always had gone for casual and comfortable looks in your daily life. The only time he has seen something different was when you put on your tailored suits for formal events.

He had to do a double-take when he saw how the little dress number hugged your figure in the right places.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t continue looking but his eyes fleeting quick glances when you were looking elsewhere. He always felt that you were one of the most beautiful people he knew on the inside, the fact that you could look past what he did and accept him for he was. He never felt that he had to pretend to be fine when you’re around because you were there to accept him for better or worst.

Seeing you now stirred up a different feeling inside of him. Why did you suddenly seem so attractive this time? He did not want to be that guy who viewed women differently because of the way they dressed. In fact, he was never the kind to like someone because of the way they look but more of how they make him feel.

However, observing how bashful and shy you look in front of him, Bucky suddenly felt rather nervous himself. He saw you taking a step towards and he swore his breath hitched as his mind was registering this scene in slow-motion.

Your hands came up to put his dog tags inside his black shirt before going for the zipper of his jacket. Your eyes fleetingly met his for a moment before you started saying something.

Bucky wasn’t able to process it as he was entirely focused on how you were casually helping him as you normally did, but his mind can’t help but think of it as an intimate gesture.

You continued to buckle up the belts of Bucky’s harness and couldn’t help but to relish in the act of caring for him. This was probably the only time you could fulfil your feelings of wanting to be close to him without crossing the line.

“All done.” Once you have adjusted the straps on his shoulder to make sure they were comfortable, you glanced to see Bucky looking down at you in a daze.

“Hey Buck, you there?” Calling for his attention, Bucky snapped back to reality as he saw you staring at him with a curious doe-eyed look. Clearing his thought, Bucky scrambled to recall what you had said and just continued looking at you in question.

You went on to ask if the straps were comfortable to which he nodded curtly. You grinned in satisfaction for a short moment before it fell into a tight-lipped smile.

“Bucky, are you really ok to go into character? I know how hard you worked to get away from all of that.” Implying how he had to act like the Winter Soldier for this undercover mission, Bucky took a deep breath before answering you.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just for this mission.” You just silently nodded at his words before signalling that you two should get a move on.

-------------------------//---------------------------

All of you were heading to Low Town as Zemo named to find his informant, Selby. Zemo reminded everyone to stay in character regardless of the situation, if not the mission would be compromised and your lives could be at risk.

Zemo gave you a personal warning to avoid using your powers if possible. If your powers were revealed publicly, there was a high chance you were at a bigger risk than the rest because people would want to take you for their own.

It was not every day an enhanced individual with superpowers walks into Madripoor and you would definitely become a prize to be coveted.

You were first greeted by the hustle and bustle of the nightlife crowd. The neon signs lit up the incredibly dark streets followed by the loud booming music that could be heard from some of the places that you passed. Your eyes were focused on Zemo’s back as he led all of you to the location, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.

Entering the crowded bar, you could hear Zemo speaking Russian to Bucky. You weren’t familiar with the language but you could make out one world, Soldat.

Sneaking your arms around Sam who was caught off, you gave me a pointed look that told him that the undercover work starts now. He gave you a brief nod before rolling out his shoulders and you pressed yourself closer to him, putting your acting face on.

All of you stood by the bar where the bartender greeted all of you.

“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender nodded to Sam. His eyes moved over to meet yours before greeting you, Miss. You gave your best smile in return.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo told the bartender. You could see the shift in his eyes and saw someone from out of the corner of your eye moving away. Shifting your stance, the bartender didn’t acknowledge Zemo’s words and glanced back to you again.

“New face?” His comment was directed towards Sam but seeing how Sam was hesitating, you realised that he hadn’t had much experience with undercover work at all. He was a military man not a spy or agent after all.

“Hopefully, the last.” You giggled shyly and looked up to Sam with an affectionate gaze before giving the bartender a wink.

The bartender nodded curtly before asking Sam (Smiling Tiger) if he wanted his usual. Sam nodded silently in an efforts to prevent himself from doing anything out of character.

You caught Bucky looking at you as he leaned sideways on the counter. Your silent exchange was a way for you two to check in with each other and a brief smile mirrored on both of your faces before you turn to see the bartender taking out a snake from a big jar.

Trying to control your expression at the disgust coming up your throat, you subtly swallowed heavily at the sight of how the bartender slit the snake open. Sam who had his back turned for a brief moment was shocked to see what was presented on the counter in front of him.

Zemo tried to continue to put on the act and acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Your global knowledge and several visits to Asia made you realised why this was the Smiling Tiger’s favourite. Snakes infused into wine was touted to be an aphrodisiac to help a man increase, ahem, stamina.

Bucky felt almost bad for Sam and looked away briefly. You could see Sam gulping down nervously when the bartender added the finishing touch to the drink and you gently rubbed his arm for emotional support.

“I love these.” Sam managed to say through gritted his teeth and clinked his glass with Zemo. Your own bile almost resurfaced and you quickly turned your head to hide your nervous gulp.

Putting up a thumbs up awkwardly, you wanted to facepalm when the bartender looked back at Sam with a dubious expression.

You knew you needed to do something so everyone’s covers won’t be blown. Putting on a sly smirk, you let a hand move up Sam’s chest slowly and sensually before resting it where his heart was.

“Looks like you and I will be in for a long night.” Adding a slight giggle, you pretended to act shy after you spoke your words. Sam was trying his hardest to not look bewildered at your act while Bucky was trying to suppress a sudden wave of annoyance that washed over him.

He knew that this was an act but he still didn’t like it for some reason. He had to admit that he was not expecting you to get into character so well, seeing that this image you were presenting was the furthest cry from who you actually were.

The bartender looked slightly less suspicious of all of you before he went away. You could feel Sam heaving a sigh of relief beside you and you did the same alongside him.

Another man came up to Zemo, telling him of how he was unwelcomed in the area. Zemo putting up a cool façade, explained he had no business with someone named the power broker. Zemo restated his business here once more before the guy left.

Zemo explained that the power broker runs Madripoor and it was best you all stayed under his radar. Moments passed before another guy came up behind Zemo and Zemo turned to Bucky talking in Russian once more.

The instant the man placed his hands on Zemo, Bucky went into winter soldier mode. Everyone’s attention was directed to the scene happening. The whirling sound of Bucky’s vibranium was heard clearly as he was nearly crushing the man’s hands and went ahead to knock him over.

More and more people started to gather fool’s courage to take on Bucky. You saw how he easily took down everyone with barely any sweat.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo commented to you and Sam, and in all honesty, you wanted to choke him like what Bucky was doing to another guy on the bar’s counter.

Hearing the continuous clicking of guns from everyone in the bar, your senses were now alert at the possibility of having to break character and use your powers.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered into your ear and grabbed onto your hand before you could even think of doing anything.

Zemo got Bucky to back down and the bartender told you all that Selby was ready for your visit. Sam checked in with Bucky to which he responded with a curt nod.

As you made your way along the back end of the bar, you could see the stacks of cash all over a table and the armed guards that filled up every corner of the room.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t come into my bar and make demands.” Selby turned out to look like what you would imagine her to be. She sat comfortably on her couch with a dominant presence and seemed like she was not someone easy to deal with.

Zemo tried to reassure her that he was making offers not demands to quell her mood. Selby asked how Zemo was able to escape from prison and Zemo replied smugly on how people like them always found a way.

As Zemo tried to shift focus onto the order of business, Selby wasn’t still into it. Making a comment about Sam’s taller than usual height, Sam not knowing what to respond just nodded in silence.

She even purred at him teasingly before her eyes landed on you.

“Who’s this pretty little thing you have here? Where are you from?” Selby’s eyes narrowed in as you sense everyone starting to look flustered by the unexpected question. You were just meant to play a background character but didn’t expect the sudden attention.

Biting your lips into a furtive grin, you snaked your hands around Sam’s biceps. “Daddy picked me up from the club that I was working at. He says I am his one and only now.”

The men all tried to stop their jaws from dropping to the floor at your sweetly coy act. Who were you?

“Hmm…” Selby hummed while she looked you up and down. “You can do better, sweetie,” Selby remarked smugly before giving a subtle gesture to herself.

Lips forming into an ‘o’, you feigned a surprised reaction at the flattery. You tried to send a flirtatious look back so that Selby would be in a better mood.

Your act was rewarded when Selby grinned wider and asked Zemo for his offer. In exchange for information on the super-soldier serum, Zemo was willing to trade Bucky in pretence. He added how he would give Selby the codes word to control Bucky, treating him like an object.

A wave of anger started rushing through you as the scene unfolded and you glanced to see how Selby became more intrigued.

“Hmm, I have plenty of strong men already working for me. What else can he offer?” Zemo was taken aback by Selby’s words, thinking that she would already be interested in Bucky.

As the men were grappling to come up with a good response, you went on your first instinct and spoke up.

“Well he is rather handsome, isn’t he?” Everyone’s focus turned onto you and you took a breath to continue as Selby gave you an expecting look.

“Not as handsome as my daddy here but-” Walking around Sam, you headed towards Bucky who was trying to look unbothered but dying of curiosity on what you were about to do.

“He seems like fun to play with.” You purred as you gazed at Bucky’s profile. You gestured for Bucky to face you and could see how he was still staying in character. Running your fingers down his five o'clock shadow, your eyes glinted as you batted your lashes flirtatiously before looking over your shoulder back at Shelby.

“You can’t help but imagine having a good time with him. Super soldier serum should have some perks, no?” Your hidden innuendo was loud and clear to everyone in the room. If this didn’t appeal to Selby, you didn’t know what will.

Sam was trying his hardest to maintain his expression as he couldn’t believe his ears. Never in a million years would he think the sweet and innocent Y/N he knew actually dared to speak like that.

Bucky did his best to tighten his jaw and continue his stoic facade to hide the shock from what you had just said.

Never did he thought you would take the situation to such a turn. Your improv was unexpected and he couldn’t believe the woman in front of him was actually you.

Your sudden bold and cheeky persona was doing something to him. Your innuendo about him started to make him feel hot in his ears. Bucky had to clench his fist tightly to get himself to hold it together as he felt his heart racing out of nowhere.

He didn’t know what was happening to him but he knew you were having some sort of effect on him.

“Of course, that’s my silly opinion.” Turning to face Selby with a mischievous smile to keep up your character, you noted her looking at you thoughtfully as she rubbed her chin.

“Not just pretty but you’re witty, aren’t you?” Selby noted as she grinned like a Cheshire cat. Satisfied with your input, Selby then revealed what she knew about the super-soldier serums.

Apparently, there was a doctor, Dr William Nagel who has been helping the power broker to create the serums here in Madripoor. When Zemo tried to probe further about Nagel’s location, Selby decided that Zemo was overstepping.

In the very next moment, you could hear a vibration of a phone and saw Sam reaching out to his jacket.

Great, all of your covers might be blown. Selby demands that Sam answered it on speaker. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. To carry on the act, Sam reluctantly proceeded to answer the phone.

A woman’s voice came up and in the next sentences spoken, you realised that she was his sister, Sarah. Oh boy, this wouldn’t end well. You closed your eyes in prayer as you hoped it can go over smoothly.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you looked to see Bucky glancing down in shared unease. Sam was doing his best to make sure his cover won’t get blown. You thought all was going well but when you heard Sam’s name from Sarah, you knew you were all toast.

Selby immediately called for all of you to be killed and in that moment, all hell broke loose. Selby got shot in a blink of an eye and her guards were up in action. Bucky pushed you behind him protectively as he fought off Selby’s men.

Once all her guards are dealt with, Zemo called for weapons to drop and you took the back exit.

Making a swift escape, all of you tried to play it cool while taking long quick strides. The sound of the first gunshot made you jumped and sprang into a run. You saw Zemo took off in another direction but you didn’t have time for him.

You, Bucky and Sam decided to sprint ahead. “I can’t run in these heels.” Sam cried out and you retorted in annoyance.

“How do you think I feel? Mine’s twice as taller than yours!”

Bucky reached over to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers together. His super-speed was practically lifting you off the ground, dragging you like a rag dog.

"Hey! What the hell man? What about me?" Bucky ignored Sam's whining and focused on not letting your hand go.

Not knowing where you are headed, a sense of dread started pouring on you and you grew anxious by the second. People on motorbikes were starting to drive up behind you three.

You were wondering if it’s time to not give care and actually use your powers for real this time. All of a sudden, the two people on the bikes behind you have been shot by someone from above and you stopped in your tracks to locate that individual, fearing you were next.

Zemo reappeared from the shadows and claimed that you all might have a guardian angel.

“Drop it, Zemo.” The familiar voice brought relief as you matched it to the face that emerged into your sight.

Your smile at the thought of a friendly face faltered when she continued pointing a gun towards all of you. Sharon didn’t seem as pleased as you were. Turns out she had to fall off the grid and found herself in Madripoor after the turn of events many years ago.

"Y/N, is that you?" She took a double-take on you, probably not used to seeing you dress up like this.

"Hey." You awkwardly replied. The moment didn't last as Sharon trained her eyes on the men and continued to be hostile.

Your heart dropped as you hear her telling of how she was unable to be in contact with her family anymore. She had become a fugitive and still is. An immense amount of guilt washed all over you when she retorted about how she wasn’t backed by the Avengers.

You weren’t batch mates with Sharon back in S.H.I.E.L.D academy but you became friends when you crossed paths during work. You could not believe you haven’t reached out to her all this time.

Bucky pleaded with Sharon for her help and Sharon gave a thoughtful look at all of you. When she saw you with your uncomfortable expression, she gave a sighed and stated that she wasn’t done discussing the topic.

Offering refuge in her place at High Town, all of you accept it.

You sat beside her in the front and the two of you exchanged silent looks before she started the engine. What were the odds of seeing her again in Madripoor?

You hoped to be able to get a chance to talk to her later.

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Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @conflicted-noxsirius

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #tfatws #marvel fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #beautiful pain #angstsfordays #bucky barnes fanfiction

[caramelcal]

Trained for Sin {part two}

Word Count: 2.2k 

Ship: Luke Patterson x Reader

a/n: wow...here is your highly requested part two! YALL GOT ME FEELIN FAMOUS!! Thank you so much for every single comment, note, request, repost and message. I am so thankful for them all and I’m glad you guys enjoy my silly little fics lol...

Would a ‘Luke Patterson’ tag be something you guys are interested in, so that you would be notified for every Luke fic I post or no? It’s just a little idea right now...

From Luke’s point of view for a bit of ~spice~

Warnings: friends with benefits themes, sexual themes, swearing 

Tags: @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ilymarkchan​ @starjane312​ @miranda0102​ @katrin-okay​ @mah-gah-lee​ @fantastic-fans​ @phantompogues​ @fangirlangioma​

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s account) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

Part One   Masterlist

It wasn’t a particularly normal experience for Luke to be called down by his mom, but he tried to give it no thought as he bounded down the stairs that day. He could faintly hear the sound of a car starting up and leaving outside as he turned his attention towards his mom, “Hey mom, what’s up?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he saw his mother stare down at the parcel with a slight, almost unnoticeable, frown. The older woman walked towards her son, giving him a weak smile as she spoke to him, “A h/c haired girl dropped this off for you. She seemed upset.”

That was even more confusing to Luke. Who would drop him off a parcel, and why would they be upset? He took the package off of his mother, flipping it around to look at the neat handwriting splayed out on the envelope that sat on top of the tan packaging of the parcel. That was your handwriting, but why would you send him a letter and a parcel?

Giving his mom a muttered thanks, Luke doesn’t stay around for any small talk and instead goes back up into his room, kicking the door shut behind him, all of his attention now on the parcel. Something is wrong, he knows that.

The guitar that Luke was playing before he was called down was long forgotten about as he sat down on the edge of his best, ripping the tan paper that you had wrapped the item in. You wrapped it as if it was a gift but it wasn’t. It was his hoodie he had given you the previous night in the car. Why did you not just return this yourself?

He placed the hoodie next to him on his bed, the envelope still in his hand. He was confused. Yet, as he opened the envelope and the key fell onto his lap everything started to fall into place. That was the house key he gave you so that you could come over whenever he needed you. With that, his stomach fell. No.

Luke was far from dumb, and he could already tell what this was going to be. He had dumped girls over text, he had dumped them in person, and just from the start of your letter, he knew what you were writing to him about. He just didn’t want to believe it.

Dear Luke,

This was probably not what you were imagining to get. Maybe you were imagining a present, or maybe you had a parcel that you were supposed to be getting delivered or something but this isn’t like that. Apologies for possibly getting your hopes up, but this way everything will be easier. I won’t have to fumble over my words and you won’t have to sit in embarrassment as some random girl tells you she no longer wants to have sex with you.

After that last statement, I can already tell you’ve probably stopped reading this, possibly ripped it up, or set it on fire and that’s alright. Yet, no matter how cliché it sounds, this isn’t your fault. This...Whatever we had was great while it lasted, especially at the start but now I have to search for something else. For something more...romantic.

I know you aren’t the romantic type, that had become obvious to me over the past months we have been involved with each other and that’s perfectly okay. I never expected anything more from you. I didn’t expect me to ever want anything more either but the more I watch the girls in the hallways with their boyfriend’s sweatshirts on, holding hands, kissing, hugging I can’t help but yearn for that.

I know I can never ask you to give me that because that was not our deal. I was never supposed to want anything more than meaningless sex, but I did, and I do. I’m just sorry it had taken me this long to realize this was not what I wanted; for either of us.

I think it’s best we don’t contact each other again, whether it be over the phone or in real life, not to give ourselves time to heal but to give us time to recover: for you to find a new girl that will give you everything I have and more; less commitment and more adrenaline and for me to find someone that will give me what I want. These last few months have been an interesting experience, and I wish you all the best.

I’m sorry.

You were gone, and you weren’t planning on coming back.

. . .

Luke had never been one for romance. The whole ‘teenage sweethearts' thing wasn’t for him. He knew that a lot of girls would kill to be in a relationship with him, but it was for popularity; you didn’t want that. Popularity was not a factor for you at all, Luke knew that even if he didn’t speak to you much.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke watched you too. Your small manners and quirks, and quickly became good at reading you. That was how he knew you were embarrassed in the car, even if he couldn’t see you blush. Luke knew a lot more about you than you suspected but the one thing he didn’t know was that you liked romance. Yet, it seemed that was new to you too. 

He thought you were all about the adrenaline and hook-ups like he was, and after seeing how you were on the first night you guys spent together, he thought you were more experienced than you had been. Walking through school felt different now as he glanced over at your locker, noticing your lack of presence. It didn’t feel right.

It was like an itch at his fingers, that something was off about him and he didn’t like it. Throughout the class, he couldn’t focus, his mind in a muddle and hands lightly trembling. It was like withdrawal. Withdrawal from you.

It wasn’t long before Luke walked out of the classroom, not caring about asking for teacher permission. Having a rich dad certainly had its benefits. The school was mostly funded by well-off individuals, allowing the school funds to pay teachers and make the school the best it could be, and with his dad being one of the main ones, he could get away with a lot. Luke’s dad never being around never really was an issue for Luke, he didn’t know what having a dad present was like.  Luke was just happy he could get away with a lot of things like skipping class and not handing in homework.

He made his way down the corridor, subconsciously finding himself heading towards the music department. It was abnormally quiet down there, normally the music department was bustling with sound, but maybe he would find sanity in the silence. That was what he was banking on.

A new sound evaded his senses however, the soft playing of piano keys in a nice and calming melody and he found himself drifting towards the sound. What he was met with, he was surprised. Leaning against the door frame, he watched you, your back turned to him, but he could tell from a mile away that it was you, “I didn’t know that you played.”

The piano playing stopped, indicating that you heard him, but you made no turn to move. He sighed, eyes looking over your figure before walking towards you. He slid next to you on the piano, looking over at your face, the direction of your gaze staying firmly ahead, not daring to stray to look over at him.

His gaze moved back down to the piano keys as he softly played a tune, clearing his throat a little, “Where is everyone?”

“Spirit assembly, they’ll be gone for the next two periods,” You replied monotonously as you continued to stare straight forward. Luke’s eyes stayed on the side of your face, not even looking down at the keys as he played effortlessly. You turned to face him, gesturing towards his face then to his hands, “Is this supposed to psych me out or something?”

Raising his eyebrows, Luke shook his head, his fingers lifting off of the piano keys, “What? No!”

“Whatever, Patterson,” You grumbled, getting up off of the piano seat and going to walk away, only for Luke to grab onto your lower arm in an attempt to stop you, “What?”

“I- uh- I just wanted to say you were good at playing the piano,” Luke commented dumbly, giving you a smile to which you responded with a blank stare. Luke did mean it when he said you were good at playing the piano but that was not what he meant to say. He meant to say something that would make you stay, that would get you to kiss him, to hold hands, and to be happy with him.

Because although he didn’t know it until he got your letter, he knew clearly now. He wanted to be with you, whether that meant fuck buddies, or if it meant dating with every single string attached.

“Really, Patterson? What are you trying to do here? Compliment me back into getting into bed with you?”

“Of course not,” Luke dismissed, climbing over the piano seat so that he stood right in front of you. He grabbed both of your hands, squeezing them in his lightly as he looked into your eyes, “Listen, I’m sorry.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, confusion striking you as you asked, “What have you got to be sorry about, Patterson?”

“Everything. Y/n, I-I’m sorry that I initiated this whole thing between us two with the no feelings, because from that moment on when I said no feelings I was lying to not only you to but me.” Luke started, looking down at the floor as he began to let his feelings take over. It was one of the first times that Luke ever found himself relying on feelings to get words across, but it felt good to be able to let it out, “Y/n, I always thought I would never do relationships, but with you everything is different. I would hold hands with you down the hall, run around confessing my love for you. I would kiss you and hug you until the sun rose. I would do anything for you, y/n/n.”

Luke’s hazel stared down at your eyes, his ramble coming to an end, making him whisper the end part as he leaned closer to you. Whilst one hand still held onto your hands, one of his hands was on the side of your face, a calloused thumb stroking your cheek gently as he bent down to make direct eye contact with you.

You were dumbfounded. Luke Patterson just confessed his love for you. Luke Patterson. You didn’t know what to say. You never thought that Luke would ever be the type of person to chase after a girl because he wasn’t normally. So why was he so eager about you? He never seemed to show any interest but maybe he was like you; hiding your feelings until they become unbearable.

Butterflies formed in your stomach whilst you tried your best to fight off the smile that came on to your face, looking at Luke with soft eyes, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Luke nodded his head with a light laugh, a smile on his face. You didn’t say anything in return and instead, you connected your lips with his. You had kissed Luke one hundred times before but nothing compared to the electricity of the kiss you felt right now.

Whilst normally the adrenaline flooded your veins, instead, it was love. It was different from what you were used to, but every touch of Luke on you felt like sparks, like the passion you had put into the kiss sparked electricity with it.

Luke disconnected your lips as he looked down, his hand letting go of your face as his arms went lower, beckoning you to jump up with his head, so you did. With you now in Luke’s arms, you reconnected your lips again, hands pulling on the brown strands of hair on the back of his head.

You barely even paid attention to the fact that Luke walked over to the piano as you deepened the kiss, his teeth biting gently down on your bottom lip, making you open your mouth in surprise. He took the opportunity for his tongue to explore your mouth, and you allowed it, pulling yourself closer to his chest, trying to get as close as you could to the boy. The boy who just confessed his love for you.

The spine of the piano was folded down and Luke placed the top of the piano down, causing you to disconnect your lips and look down at the sleek, polished, black top of the piano that Luke placed you on top of. You looked back at Luke, a look of hesitation to which he nodded, “Luke, no, we can’t do it here! What if we get caught?”

“You said it yourself y/n/n, everyone will be at spirit rally for the next hour,” Luke smirked, kissing you which made you smirk into the kiss as well.

With that, Luke lightly pushed you down onto the piano, climbing over the top of you, letting out breathlessly, “I love you.”

Luke didn’t wait for your response as he bent down to your neck, sucking on it, prepared to leave many marks littering your skin. However, you didn’t oppose, instead your hands made their way up Luke’s back and into his hair, letting out a gasp as he sunk his teeth lightly into your skin. 

And so the games begin.

#charlie gillespie x y/n #luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms x reader #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie #julie and the phantoms luke #luke jatp #luke patterson

[xhisokas-harleyx]

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. 🏃

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

-----------------

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

[writersrealmbts]

Lonely Little Jack-o-Lantern

Description: Yoonkook x reader, Hybrid Au, Zombie Apocalypse Au. You operate your own little farm, living in an area that doesn’t have as many zombies as other areas, but one day a group of hybrids show up, and the changes are immediate, especially where Yoongi and Jungkook are concerned.

Warnings: Mild language, mild blood and gore (very mild)

Posted: 10/30/2020

Tags/Genre: Yoonkook x reader, hybrid au, zombie au

Sort of Fluff, Sort of Angst: 12,331 words

A/N: This is long as heck, so I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s not the normal zombie au type so bear with me, and I got caught up in details. All the details. But here is your story, @ditttiii​, my baby bird. And It’s technically still the 29th, but I was formatting it anyway and thought, hey, only a few hours away for me! Happy almost halloween!

You walked carefully, furtively looking around.

Then you spotted it, lifting your machete….

And quickly sliced down and through it, cutting it off at the neck.

Severing it’s lifeline.

How else would you dispatch it?

You straightened up with a grin, putting your machete again. “Perfect! You’ll make a fine jack-o-lantern! And your buddy will make a fantastic pumpkin pie!”

The pumpkins didn’t respond, not that you expected them too.

You picked the smaller one up by the vine and cradled the other in your arm, humming happily as you headed back toward your home.

Sure, there was a zombie apocalypse going on. In fact, most people had retreated to the shelters and military safety zones.

But…you hadn’t actually seen another soul for a couple months, or a zombie since last spring.

Cold was surprisingly effective at getting rid of zombies. They had all migrated to warmer climates, except for the odd straggler that moved so poorly due to frostbite damage that you easily dispatched them.

You’d taken up residence in an abandoned farm-store, with an attached greenhouse that you utilized to maximize food production (plus several extra greenhouses a ways away which definitely helped, but you didn’t use all of them for obvious reasons). You went on your merry way, making enough food for yourself, plus extra just in case, and setting aside extra goods for anyone who happened to come your way. You’d give them shelter plus some dried foods to take with them as they journeyed onward, and they usually repaid you with a couple days of help around the farm or kitchen.

Heck, last summer, you’d hosted an impromptu wedding. The group had been traveling together, both families having been together to meet one another before the wedding, and the groom’s father was a priest. He basically ordained you before he left, even told you where to look for legal documentation at the courthouse for if you ever needed to conduct another wedding.

At this point, the ceremony was more of a comfort sort of thing. A long-held tradition to bring a sense of normalcy to the abnormality of the life everyone now lived.

You paused once you reached your home again, feeling as though something were off.

Slowly you lowered the one pumpkin to the ground, grabbing your machete again.

Then you spotted them. Five figures, moving slowly, just shapes at the moment.

You scooped up the pumpkin again and quickly went inside, putting up your defenses just in case after depositing your pick onto the floor. Then you went out around the back to secure your livestock, which mostly consisted of birds that you had adopted from the abandoned homes and farms around you, a few rabbits, three goats (that you honestly only sheltered for the night, they did their own thing and you let them), and a little piglet that a passing family had left with you a few months ago (the runt of the litter, very weak at the time but slowly growing under your care). You went down the street every morning to milk some of the cows that lived there. You didn’t know enough about them to fully care for them, so you weren’t entirely certain what to do for them, but there was a farmer that came up once or twice a summer to check on you and the cows, and the small herd of cows hadn’t suffered yet. And you had butter, cheeses (when you didn’t mess up the process), canned milk, condensed milk, sweetened condensed milk, and had even tried to make yogurt once or twice (it didn’t go well).

Your next foray would be trying to milk the goats, something you’ve been avoiding because you’d never liked the goat products your family had always pushed on you when you were younger, but desperate times and all.

But that depended on you protecting your home today.

They were moving pretty slowly for humans, but not quite as sluggishly as you would have expected of zombies.

You would have to wait until they were closer.

Whatever they were, they still hadn’t spotted you, even as they got within a 100 feet of you.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!” You called out, pointing the rifle at them.

They stopped, some of them raising their hands, most of them looking surprised.

“We’re just passing through, trying to find our way to the sanctuary!” One of them called.

All of them were men, which made alarms go off in your head.

“You know you’re going the wrong way, right?” You asked, really not buying that story.

Until they all drooped and started griping at each other in a foreign language.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Still waiting!��

“Right, sorry, sorry, um, we were at the Cherimo base, but it was being evacuated, and we were on a smaller plane and it crashed…and…we’re lost…” The one that had spoken before said.

You studied them for a while. You had heard over the radio that something was going on due to resource loss, but the signal had been fuzzy and you weren’t sure why they would….

Was that a tail?

Oh.

Oh.

“Are you hybrids?” You asked, lowering the rifle carefully.

One of them nodded before the spokesperson, then nervously halted when he saw the others weren’t nodding.

You lowered your guard a little more. “Let me guess, autopilot failed?”

They all nodded this time.

It made sense. If there were limited resources, why wouldn’t they get rid of lifeforms they deemed less useful. Nevermind that so far hybrids had shown more immunity to whatever it was that made people zombies. If one of them were bitten or injured by a zombie, as long as they cleaned the wound thoroughly and quickly they wouldn’t turn.

“It…it seriously hurt one of our friends. The other stayed behind to take care of him, and we were supposed to find help. That was a couple days ago though….” The spokesperson said, voice trailing off or choking up.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking at your home from the corner of your eye, then sighing and putting the safety on. “Alright. I’ll get the truck ready, but if there are two people there, I can only take two extra people. The rest of you will have to stay here.”

“You’ll help us?” The spokesperson said, sounding completely surprised.

You nodded, heading toward the door to unlock it. “But there are going to be so many ground rules. First of all, I’m allowing you into my home, don’t make a mess of it. Drink as much water as you like, it’s clean, and I’ll cook something when I get back. But you can’t sleep here. It’s too dangerous for me. You can sleep in the greenhouse, or you could try the farmhouse down the street. I’ll make an exception for your injured friend and one other to keep him company. And I’m still going to be celebrating Halloween in a couple days, so deal with it.”

He was translating, but they already seemed to be agreeing.

You ushered them in while you got the keys to the truck. “Names?”

“Kim Namjoon,” The spokesperson said, “Fox is Jimin, Otter is Hoseok, red panda is Jungkook, and Taehyung is the bear.”

You paused to study him. “And what, exactly, are you?”

“White-nosed coati,” He answered, nervously.

You blinked at him, then shook your head and kept moving. Grabbing your first-aid kit (had you raided the emergency medical center a few miles from your home? yes, yes you had) and heading out to the truck, you didn’t bother looking to see who would join you.

It was Namjoon and the red panda, who thankfully looked strong. Jungkook?

They guided you back to where the plane had crashed, which wasn’t too hard after you got in the proximate area thanks to whoever it was that had stayed behind keeping a nice, smoky fire going.

But they hadn’t been joking.

Their friend was seriously injured.

The other looked up, obviously scared and desperate, relief visible when he smelled his friends, calling out to them in their language.

You hurried over, not caring about the snarl he emitted as you got close.

They had strapped him down carefully, so he couldn’t injure himself by moving, which was good, but….

“Yoongi, she’s here to help,” Namjoon said, more firmly.

You bit your lip. “Get him in the bed of the truck. We need to get him back to a clean environment, get him fully hydrated so that he can replenish any blood-loss, and then I’m going to have to clean and suture his wounds. Someone get the tailgate.”

The four of you quickly moved, but carefully got him into the truck and made sure he wouldn’t get jostled around too much. Then you drove carefully back to your home, parking as close to the door as possible.

You hopped out and hurried inside, rushing to the basement to grab some of the supplies you kept in the cold down there.

It was a slow process, especially since you kept double checking with the medical books and manuals that you were doing the right thing, but the other boys were patient. Namjoon reading it again aloud if you were uncertain, and reassuring Yoongi that you were being careful and doing your best.

So you had his wounds sanitized and stitched, had carefully given him some medicine to fight any infection that may have started despite the dedicated care Yoongi had provided, and all of you had decided that an I.V. was too dangerous to attempt without further research and verification.

And he was partially conscious by the time you finished, so you all just resolved to carefully give him lots of water (he was no longer strapped down, they knew his neck and back weren’t broken, they were just trying to keep him still), and he was carefully propped up in your guest bed by two in the afternoon.

You left Taehyung carefully giving him sips of water, closing the door softly to limit the stimulation.

“Thank you,” A voice said quietly, accent present.

You turned toward the voice and spotted Yoongi, head down. “No problem. He’s okay for now, I think. I’m not exactly a doctor or a nurse, but I’ve done everything I can.”

He nodded slowly, but you weren’t sure how much he actually understood. You thought he must have understood most of it, though.

You nodded as well, then took a deep breath…and turned away, heading for the kitchen. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”

They hesitantly followed you into the kitchen, peeking around furtively, and sticking to the spots that seemed to be out of the way.

You glanced at them, then grabbed a couple jars of chicken broth. “Well, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

“Help,” Yoongi said immediately, stiffly walking a little further into the room.

You nodded, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there are potatoes, carrots, and onions. I need two onions…eight red-skin potatoes…and ten carrots. Could one of you go into the greenhouse, through that door, and get me three stalks of celery?”

Namjoon relayed the message and Jungkook nodded eagerly, heading that way.

“Garlic?” Yoongi asked, bringing out the other things.

You contemplated, then shrugged. “Sure, but only one or two cloves.”

He nodded again and headed back into the closet.

You glanced at the other three, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there, rice. Fill this.” You set a measuring bowl out.

Jimin (?) nodded and took the bowl, heading in to find the rice.

You got the jumbo-sized pot out and some of the butter and oil, but didn’t turn it on yet.

Jungkook came back with the celery and you smiled your thanks, getting a cutting board and a knife to carefully cut it up. Then you turned on the stove on a low setting to let the celery cook a little longer.

You had Hoseok (?) peeling the carrots, with instructions on how to chop them afterward.

Namjoon was washing the potatoes.

Jimin was carefully washing the rice.

Yoongi was chopping the onions.

You set Jungkook to mincing the garlic so you could pay attention to the cooking celery, and trying to remember what else you put in the soup. “Jimin, can you go pick some spinach? Fill this bowl, the tiny spinach, though.” You set a bowl down on the counter.

Jimin looked uncertainly to Namjoon, who translated, then he nodded, and headed out into the greenhouse.

Hopefully he knew what the spinach looked like.

Yoongi brought you the onion and you dumped it into the pot.

“Can you go get green onion? Just a small one,” You asked.

He blinked, then nodded, heading out.

You grabbed some eggs setting them nearby for when the onions were ready, and accepting the garlic from Jungkook, but keeping it to the side for the moment.

You handed the spoon to Jungkook. “Stir now and then.”

He nodded confidently.

You grabbed a pan and some of your cherry peppers and mini-sweet peppers. You cut them into chunky pieces, not too big, then coated them in some oil and put them in the oven under the broiler for five minutes, initially.

Jimin came back with the spinach with Yoongi, who had the green onion you had requested.

Jimin took all of it to the sink to wash it, asking something in Korean.

“He wants to know what you need done with the rice and the spinach,” Namjoon translated.

“Spinach can be coarsely chopped, just keep the rice set aside. The potatoes can be cut, somewhat large…um…” You looked around, then pulled the pepper chunks out of the oven. “Slightly bigger than this.”

Namjoon translated.

Hoseok nodded, grabbing the scrubbed potatoes and waving Namjoon away.

You continued watching to make sure they understood, then nodded and went back, checking to see how the onions were cooking, then adding the garlic.

Jungkook looked curious, but also frustrated, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t entirely certain how.

You cracked half of the eggs into a dish to whisk them up, opting for more eggs since it meant more protein and you had a ton of them anyway. Then—pushing the onions, garlic and celery to one corner—you poured then eggs into the pot and then plonked the lid on for a couple minutes to let the egg cook a bit.

Jungkook stared at the lid, then looked at you, still seeming to lack the words to inquire.

You shrugged, gathering the peppers, and then quickly chopping the green onion, the green part a little bigger than the white, and tossed both of those into the pot when the egg seemed to be the right amount of cooked. Stirring carefully, not wanting to break up the eggs too much, but also wanting to let any uncooked egg have a chance and free the onions, garlic and celery from their eggy prison.

Dear god you hoped this would taste okay.

You boldly poured in the chicken broth, making sure nothing was clinging to the bottom. Then you added the rice, spinach and potatoes and left it to come back up to simmering while you pulled the extra chicken you had cooked out of your cooler. You had planned on making chicken stew, maybe cooking up some dumplings, but…you could tell they were hungry and this would be faster than chicken stew and less nitpicky.

You paused before starting to cut the chicken, quickly going to grab some seasoning and being very careful about measuring that up.

“What is this called?” Namjoon asked, gesturing to the pot.

“Would you believe chicken and rice soup?” You asked, going back to the chicken with a knife. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was kind of winging it. Hopefully it will taste okay.”

Yoongi gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “It’s not much. We don’t even know if it will be good.”

“Still,” Yoongi murmured, shrugging and looking away.

You quickly looked back down at the chicken. “You all are the first people I’ve seen in a couple months. Don’t get me wrong, I love living here. It’s probably safer than even the military zones. The zombies can’t withstand the winters and it makes them easy to dispatch.”

“Lonely,” Jungkook murmured.

You shrugged. “Even in a crowd, people have the ability to feel alone. I think actually being alone is better. Then at least I can’t resent others for not noticing me. It’s an apocalypse. At least I chose this life. No one forced it on me, not the apocalypse, not a plague. I chose this for myself. There’s a sort of satisfaction in that.”

Yoongi came beside you, cat-like eyes flickering over the chicken you were shredding. Then he met your curious gaze, holding it for a long moment.

“I suppose that makes me lucky,” You added. “To be able to decide my own life.”

He blinked slowly.

You shifted on your feet, unnerved.

“Uh, the pot….” Namjoon said, voice nervous.

You broke away from Yoongi’s gaze, and turned toward the pot.

It was boiling, so you turned down the heat for the moment and gave it a stir, then went back toward the chicken.

Yoongi had already taken over.

You stared for a moment, then went to wash your hands. “This place runs on solar power, and has a well. Normally, when I have people here they exchange work for a place to stay for a few days. Your friend is in no shape to be moving anywhere—”

“We’ll happily help you with anything you need,” Namjoon said quickly.

The others were nodding in agreement as he quickly translated, all looking scared and somewhat terrified.

You held your hands up to stop them before they continued down the panicky path they were treading. “I was just going to say, that you can stay as long as you need while your friend is recovering. I’m going to go check on your friends.”

They nodded.

Jungkook followed you out and into the bedroom again.

Taehyung and Jin were asleep.

You carefully closed the door, then studied Jungkook for a moment, noticing a tear in his shirt that looked pretty big. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced down, then looked sheepish and shrugged.

You pointed to a chair. “Shirt off.”

He carefully removed his shirt, obviously in pain from the gash on his ribs.

You could just hit him upside the head. All that lifting he did!

So you did. “Don’t do stupid things like lifting people when you’re injured.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you don’t know how much of it he understood, but his cheeks turned red and he looked away quickly.

You went and got water and a cloth, then knelt beside him to carefully clean the wound. You tried not to notice how well-muscled he was, or how he looked much less innocent like this. Sure, he still had an adorably bushy tail, but—

You flinched as a hand rested on your head, lightly stroking your hair, peeking up to see Jungkook mesmerized by your hair.

He grabbed your free hand, which you’d put out to balance yourself when he startled you, and brought it to his heart.

You could feel it racing, and you locked eyes with him.

He shyly looked away after a moment.

You swallowed hard, then finished cleaning his cut, wiping some antibiotic ointment on it carefully, and then bandaging the area. “There. No heavy lifting for a while. I see you overworking and we’re binding your whole ribcage.” You stood up and packed the first aid kit up again, then hurried back into the kitchen.

You stirred the pot, pulling some rice to test it. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I thought a few of us could venture to the local stores and get all of you some extra clothing and shoes and other supplies. Only those of you who aren’t injured, though. There are monsters hiding out in some of the stores still. That means no Jungkook, and no Jimin—I saw you limping.”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, eyes widening.

You nodded, turning to glance at Jungkook as he followed you in, shirt back on. “He has a nasty cut on his ribs. He shouldn’t have been doing any of the lifting he did.”

All of them started ragging on Jungkook, who was sheepish.

Yoongi was over beside the red panda hybrid talking lowly, quickly, and somewhat sternly.

Jungkook nodded, slouching to rest his head on the cat’s shoulder.

You added the chicken to the pot to distract yourself. You’d never really met any hybrids, except a couple of your childhood friends’, but you figured the scenting you were witnessing was more of a private thing from the way the others sort of averted their gazes.

But you were also morbidly curious.

Yoongi came over a few minutes later. “Seokjin?”

“Sleeping still. It’s good for him to rest. How much English do you understand?” You asked, turning a little.

He sort of shrugged.

“Sorry I can’t speak your language,” You said a little more quietly.

He shrugged again. “You…nice. Keep going.”

You blinked at him for a moment, barely registering Jimin in the background making a lot of complaining-type noises. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but…thank you?”

He nodded, looking embarrassed, then mumbled something to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked reluctant.

You studied the room.

Namjoon finally turned to you. “Yoongi was wondering how much you understand about hybrid situations during this…pandemic.”

You carefully tasted the broth as you debated how to answer. “I know…that many hybrids have been used as…stress relief for certain clientele to boost morale. Illegally. Others trained as foot-soldiers in the war against zombies. Sent to a slaughter.”

“Yeah. We were transferred to Cherimo six months ago. We were more for shows than anything too….” He didn’t seem to know how to continue.

You stirred the pot nervously. “Shows?”

“Music,” He reassured you. “But…they were talking about us…taking on second jobs. Just before the crisis. Then we were determined to be expendable.”

You nodded. “I understand. Well, once you’ve recovered, we’ll see about getting you all set up on your own, where no one can determine what you can or can’t be. With any decency, you’ll never have to face such threats again.” You tasted the rice again and nodded firmly. “Well, threats from zombies always exist nowadays. Soup is done. Someone grab the bowls from that cupboard.”

Jungkook was hurrying to do as you asked, getting out the four bowls you had, and then looking worriedly in the cupboards.

You went over, opening the one he hadn’t looked in and pulling out assorted other bowls. “They’re all sort of scavenged. I’ve never really needed more than six bowls before today. Guess we should pick up more when we break into the store tomorrow. I think Seokjin should just have broth for now.”

Jimin nodded, taking the bowl of broth you’d ladled out and heading back toward the room.

You gestured for the other boys to get food for themselves, not exactly hungry yourself since you’d had a decent breakfast and instead opting to bring up your pumpkins. One to carve, one to eat. And then you’d also be able to roast any pumpkin seeds to munch on throughout the winter.

Jungkook, Yoongi, and Namjoon stayed in the kitchen while they ate, mostly watching you as you prepared to cut open the pumpkin you were going to carve.

“What…are you doing?” Jungkook asked carefully, quickly filling his mouth afterward.

“Making a jack-o-lantern. I’m going to gut this, then carve a face into it and pretend it’s a normal Halloween occurring in a couple of days.” You managed to get the knife through the thick rind, then carefully cut open the top of the pumpkin.

It took a while for Namjoon to translate since he’d been in the middle of inhaling his food, but after he did, Jungkook nodded, still looking curious.

Yoongi seemed indifferent, mostly muttering something that alerted Jungkook to the fact that his soup still existed, and giving Jungkook a big chunk of chicken.

“Where do you get things like flour and rice?”

You made a face. “Well, most of it I pilfered from stores. I was lucky to find this place early on, lived about a half-hour drive from here, and they had some things. There are stores equidistantly around here: One to the south, one to the north, and one to the east. West is more farmland and forest mix, as you probably surmised by the drive to your crash site. And there’s a farmer to the south that I do work exchange with. He grows wheat, corn, and sugar-beets, and helps me with some livestock. He in turn knows a guy to the east that’s been running some flour and sugar-beet processing, so he’s been providing me with some flour and sugar when he gets the chance.”

“And what do you do for him?”

You pointed to your basket of eggs. “His wife is allergic to feathers. I provide them with bird meat, and eggs. And I can grow things here throughout the winter, and I have a pretty efficient canning process going here. We just exchange goods and services. Nothing else. His son came with him once last winter. They were out of greens. Thankfully, I had enough for what they needed, and sent them home with plenty of greens and some extra goods to help them out. There are benefits to being a party of one, just as there are downfalls.”

“Being lonely,” Yoongi said quietly, not missing a beat and not looking your way.

You shrugged. “But I get a lot done. And I know that if I need company, it’s not terribly far to where his family is. The rule is to bring some goods though. Like, his wife came to visit me sometime in January—they have a horse and wagon that he rigged a heating system in—and she brought me a cherry pie. I spent Christmas with them, and took an apple and a pumpkin pie. That sort of thing. And if you guys settle near here, then we’ll probably do trades with you guys as well. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. What I’m saying…is that solitude isn’t quite so terrible when you know that there is someone around if you really need them.”

Jungkook had moved closer, watching you scrape out the pumpkin guts with clear curiosity.

You glanced at him again, then turned your attention to carefully cutting slices of pumpkin flesh from the inside of it, not wanting to waste any of it. You were determined to experiment more this year, try not to waste anything because it was…hard. Hard to make everything count, and with seven extra mouths eating you were going to need to make every bit count. You had multiple foods curing in the sun so that you could store them on the shelves in the basement, but still…even though you’d been doing this a while, it was always a curious thing trying to figure out if you had enough food for the winter. And it wasn’t as though you could do much about it with it being the end of October.

“How much warning did you get?” Namjoon asked, the first question he seemed to have himself.

You gave a half-laugh. “Well…we knew about the outbreaks in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa…and my family was already taking it seriously. My parents decided to move out to live with my brother. I was still working, and printing off binders worth of information. No one ever thought to hit bookstores. My dad had started buying gas-tanks and filling two whenever he went to get gas. Left that for me since mom wanted to be by my brother and his family.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

You shrugged. “Half-brother? Not on the best terms. We would have killed each other. As it is, we talk on the sat-phones on Mother’s Day and Christmas. Everyone thought the world would shut down completely, but it didn’t. Anyway, I was banking on them surviving. As much as we don’t get along, my brother is a former marine and his neighbors are well spaced and consist of an older trapper and his wife, a marine buddy of his with his wife, and a cattle ranch. They’re doing great. And I got enough plants and seeds and information, not to mention people raced to get out of the area when they were told it was safest to get to a fort or the nearest Military zone. I hid in the basement for three days after that announcement, but nothing happened to me. I stayed at the house for a month after, packing the truck and trailer. I had my car still, with a full tank of gas, and I went around to see what things were like. There were still a few groups evacuating, but no one really paid attention to me. Met the owners of this place, asked if they were staying or going. They were older, and had been planning on selling the place before all of it went down. I gave them a wad of cash and a box of canned food, they gave me the keys. Everyone I did meet thought I was crazy. I was very careful about moving everything, and I kept everything locked up tight.”

“When did the zombies hit?”

“About this time that year. I remember because I thought it was ironic that the zombies would finally show up around Halloween. They were pretty bad that fall, and into December because it wasn’t as cold of a winter as normal. But January swooped in like a champ with below-freezing temperatures and lots of snow. I was lucky. Very lucky.” You finished picking the seeds out of the guts (at least, you were fairly certain you had removed all of them). “The cell towers were still work intermittently, so I can look up information quickly if I want. And the powerplants…they were still running until December. But hey, I’ve got three generators, and a crap-ton of car batteries for powering extra things, like the greenhouses.”

“Did you farm before this?”

You wrinkled your nose as you thought about it. “Honestly? Not to this extent. I’d thought about it, but the most we ever had was a vegetable garden and a couple of fruit trees. To say there was a learning curve would be an understatement. But I got through it.

“Scared,” Jungkook asked, gaze locked on you.

You shrugged. “Who isn’t? Would you like more soup?”

He looked at his bowl, then looked toward the pot.

“You guys can just help yourselves. I’ll probably eat later.” You picked the knife up again, seeing the end of the conversation in sight once more. Less distraction while holding a sharp object. Sure, what you were cutting out of your jack-o-lantern wasn’t going to be pretty, but you could roast the, up like fries and that would be really yummy. Or you could try to make a pumpkin spice something or other. You weren’t really sure what you would do with all of the pumpkin innards you were breaking out.

You just knew the shell was getting a face.

You paused, turning back to the egg basket. “I never let the animals out again.”

Someone followed you as you rushed out the back door to the small stable/barn/shed that you had shooed the animals into (that weren’t already secure in their own pens, mind), opening the doors to the fenced area for the pig and goats to run around, including your favorite pygmy goat that you honestly rescued just because it was cute. Whoever it was helped you shoo the ten chickens, two turkeys, three ducks, and one grumpy goose out into the bird run.

“Go on chicks. Guster! Get your tail-feathers through that door,” You scolded, picking up the grumpy goose and essentially tossing him through.

He landed just fine, honking angrily at you.

The ducks were happily settling near you, but you carefully shuffled them through the door.

The turkeys had gone through the moment you opened the door, the smarty-pants.

As for the peafowl in the pen on the other side of the property…well…as pretty as they were, you pretty much just fed them and cared for them because you felt bad for them. Sure, you had lot of pretty feathers for crafts in wintertime, but they were loud. And picky. And they ate so much, and needed warmer, dryer, well-kept pens.

But they were also very sweet and probably hand-raised because they always came right up to you.

Without a feed source to purchase for them, you hadn’t thought they would survive this long, but they were still plucking along. You let the male out during the hot days of summer to roam, but he always came back just in time for you to put clean water and whatever treat you’d scrounged up.

You’d let all of the birds out when you’d been tilling, letting them get the grubs and ants and other insects that were in your way.

The ducks would usually go down to the pond, but you’d just cleaned out their swimming pool, so you figured they would be fine as long as Guster didn’t decide they weren’t allowed to be there.

You would have to add more minnows to the pool.

There were so many things you hadn’t considered when you were setting up everything and rescuing the animals you did, that you just sort of figured out as you went. Like, hey! If you capture some minnows and raise them you can give them to your ducks and geese and they will adore you for centuries.

You had to raid the U-Haul and get a bigger transport vehicle, then raid a bunch of farm and pet supply stores. Then again that would use up a lot of gas as well.

“Uh…sheep?”

You turned around, looking at Jungkook, then at the goat that was trying to eat his shoe-laces. “Goat. Carl. Just push him.”

He did, and Carl plodded away.

Yoongi was also there, holding an egg and looking curious.

You glanced around, then grabbed an egg-carton. “Guess we should check for more eggs while we’re here.”

They nodded and helped you search, noses twitching and active as they explored the nooks and crannies.

Four eggs wasn’t bad considering you’d just collected eggs that morning. You’d put them in with the broody turkey. She’d hatched at least half of your chickens, and your third duck. She was your most valued asset.

The boys stood well-back while you carefully pushed her from her nest from behind, and placed the eggs before she could attack your hand, then closed the back hatch.

She was happily situated once more when you peeked in.

“Great. Okay. I need to make the trip across to the other pen, and then go down to see the cows this afternoon. But I need to show a couple of you what to do since we’ll probably be gone most of tomorrow,” You spoke, not really expecting a response.

Jungkook caught your wrist. “Me.”

“Alone?”

“You are alone.”

“But I’ve had practice. At least get Jimin and…who else is staying behind tomorrow? Besides Jin.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook and Jimin.”

You nodded. “Okay, then at least get Jimin to come see what to do as well. Don’t rush. We’re heading toward that building.”

He looked and nodded, then jogged away.

You huffed. “That boy.”

Yoongi made a soft sound, like he agreed but was also amused.

You turned to him. “Does it bother you when I just ramble on?”

He shook his head, a certain intensity in his gaze as he met your eyes that made it hard to continue meeting his gaze.

But impossible to look away.

His ears twitched, but they were angled toward you. His tail flicked as he stepped closer to you.

Warning lights went off in your head. Seven men. One girl. Alone.

You whipped around as fast as you could and started walking, grabbing the bucket of feed you’d prepared earlier. “Welp, let’s go. I’m sure they’ll catch up with us soon.”

And you swore you heard him hiss in surprise, and you just wanted to laugh at how ridiculous you were being and how ridiculous this situation was, but honestly who would have thought—

You squeaked in alarm dropping the bucket and running back toward the house to grab the rifle and the axe, then racing back toward your peacocks to save them from the zombie.

Yoongi gladly accepted the ax, hurrying after you, but also staying a good ways back so that you would have time to shoot the thing so he could chop it’s head off.

You’d become a very good shot in the past two years.

Yoongi looked like he might be sick after cutting its head off.

You didn’t blame him.

Wordlessly the two of you dragged it a place where you could bury it when you got the chance.

Jungkook and Jimin were there when you two returned, with Namjoon to translate.

Poor Namjoon.

When you were finally done instructing them on the peacocks, and the other animals on the property, you all headed down the street to the cows.

Jungkook fascinatedly touched the cows, while Jimin and Yoongi crouched beside you to learn.

And Yoongi was only gulping several times while he watched the milk tin you and Jimin filled, one cow after another.

The boys were also teasing him, and though he refused to give them much of a reaction, his cheeks were a little red and there was a twitch at the corners of his mouth that hinted at a smile and man that was adorable, especially with how his eyes closed slightly and his hair—

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Nope.

Nuhuh.

Stop it.

“So, what do you do with it now?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Take it home, separate the cream, pasteurize the milk. Then I’m either going to drink it or make something out of it.”

“Cool,” He replied, then translated, but you got the feeling that only Jimin really needed the translation as the two of them walked away, Jimin carrying the container effortlessly.

Jungkook and Yoongi walked with you, looking around at the farm while you got the cows some fresh hay, and inspecting the houses that the three of you walked past on your way back.

“Where did they go?” Jungkook asked carefully, looking at each abandoned house.

“I don’t know,” You answered quietly. You’d been to each house. When you finished your chores in the winter you amused yourself by inspecting the houses around you. Gathering furniture and supplies that you decided were needed.

“You live there,” Jungkook asked.

You shrugged. “Yeah. It made sense. Live where you work. I was just lucky that they had an extra room attached to the store area that I could turn into my room. I’ll probably just sleep in the kitchen, though. It’d pretty comfortable there once I set up the cot. Nice and warm.”

Jungkook paused by one of your smaller pumpkins that was sun-cured and awaiting transport to where it would be resting for winter or for later processing.

You paused as well, then picked it up. “Come on, panda boy. You can carve one too.”

Yoongi started purring but quickly coughed to cover it.

The other boys were distracted, talking with Taehyung quietly but animatedly, and the door to the room where Seokjin lay was propped open slightly. Seokjin was asleep and Taehyung was eating, cheeks bulging slightly from how much food he’d shoveled in.

Felt good to have your food appreciated, even if they were only eating it because they were half-starved.

Yoongi and Jungkook followed you into the kitchen (Yoongi moving the milk pails, that Jimin had left on the floor near the sink, onto the counter for you).

Jungkook went at his pumpkin carefully, but the one time he didn’t do something carefully he earned a low growl from Yoongi. He proceeded to stick his tongue out at the feline, and continuing carefully.

You pushed the bowl of seeded gut, unseeded guts, and seeds toward Yoongi with a grin.

He winced, but didn’t fight it. He did get a fork and spoon to help him sift through though.

Jungkook hummed as he worked, filling the slight-awkward-slightly-comfortable silence, sometimes murmuring a word or two in Korean.

And you believed that they’d been in the music industry, because there was no way they would pass up the chance for a rare hybrid that could also sing. And Red panda hybrids were rare.

There hadn’t been much of a hybrid-culture around you growing up, so you were aware of it, and had met a few hybrids that were therapy hybrids, but you’d never had significant exposure to them aside from your one road trip with you friends when you broke down in a hybrid town. The hybrid women that came to your rescue been extremely kind to you and your friend and had gotten you on the road again. But they’d told you to avoid hybrid males, “For everyone’s sake” and now…you still weren’t certain what it meant.

You wondered how they were doing during this apocalypse. They’d probably just stayed put and established more defenses. They were already mostly self-sustaining, with their own power supply and water system. Most people wouldn’t have even passed through there unless they were very, very lost.

“There’s a hybrid town…there was a hybrid town, to the east of here. There were completely self-sustaining. After your friend heals up, you might want to head that way,” You said in the silence after Jungkook finished his song. You were finished with your jack-o-lantern, just peeling the skin off of the bits you had carved out to add to the pile of salvaged pumpkin flesh.

Jungkook went rigid, and his tail fluffed out.

Yoongi also looked…tense.

“Or not. Do whatever you guys want,” You quickly added, a little alarmed at how alarmed they got. You’d just wanted to let them know that there was somewhere they might have a better chance. They’d said they wanted to go to the nearest safety zone, but that would also mean returning to servitude, discrimination, and possibly worse things.

Jungkook and Yoongi started having a rapid conversation over the workspace, Jungkook looking desperate and despairing, Yoongi looking uneasy and reluctant and adamant.

You weren’t sure what it was you had said, but they seemed to be quickly heading toward some sort of dispute and Jungkook suddenly turned adamant as well and Yoongi got a fed-up look.

“Namjoonie-hyung!” Jungkook finally called loudly, slamming the knife he had been using down on the counter and turning to head toward the main room.

Yoongi’s eyes widened and he hurried after the panda. “Yah, Jungkook-ah.”

You watched them go, then quickly grabbed the knives and put them in the sink in case they came back. Then you started sorting the seeds out of the guts of Jungkook’s pumpkin as the debate appeared to continue in the next room with lots of shushing.

You really wished you’d gotten more language textbooks and dictionaries. But honestly, there was no way you could have foreseen needing to know Korean.

———

Seokjin was already looking better the next morning, and more aware. Taehyung was carefully feeding him, and between the two of them they managed to tell you about the other pains—possibly broken bones—that Seokjin had. But all you could really do about them (aside from feel them and see if you could feel any displacement, which you didn’t) was splint them and tell him to not take any risks. Unfortunately, at least one of his legs appeared to be broken. You had a brace that he went into comfortable, but that was the best you could do for him.

At least they weren’t avoiding you like the others.

You weren’t sure what it was that you had said that set them off, but, after the…discussion yesterday afternoon, most of the boys sort of avoided you. Looked nervous.

But as it got later in the morning, you gathered and loaded some supplies into the truck. You’d already hooked up the trailer

Jungkook met you there, looking determined.

“No,” You said firmly. “I told you, no injured people on this trip. Too dangerous.”

His brow furrowed.

“No,” You repeated. You were not going to be fought on this. No way.

Finally he stalked away.

You wished you felt victorious.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were set to go with you—though Taehyung appeared to be giving very detailed instructions to Jimin and Jungkook about Jin’s care—and soon packed into the vehicle.

It was very awkward. Yoongi sat in the back with Hoseok, but he wouldn’t look at you.

Namjoon and Taehyung were crammed in the front and Taehyung had apparently tired of practicing his English because he was talking with Namjoon.

Your hand went to the pocket with the list of things you wanted to look for, as if the list would reassure you that everything was okay.

You could feel someone’s gaze burning into you, and you knew who it was without looking.

You knew it was Yoongi.

You just wished you knew why.

You’d gone east, since that town was fractionally closer, easier to navigate, and hadn’t been raided as much.

“What’s the plan?” Namjoon asked as the houses started giving way to more business stuff.

You started to reply, then pulled into the hospital that was there (just a random specialist center, not a full one, but you thought it still might have some things you could use). “First we see if we can find Seokjin a wheelchair, crutches, or more braces—anything that might help. You have your weapons?”

They nodded.

You parked the vehicle, studying the building for a moment. “Okay. We stick together. Two people look, the other three guard. Got it?”

A smattering of agreements and a queasy nod from Hoseok let you know that they agreed.

“Hoseok and Yoongi, you want to look for the equipment?”

They nodded, though Yoongi was slightly more reluctant.

“Yoongi thinks I should help look for equipment and he should help guard.”

You gave Namjoon a quizzical look.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I’m a little clumsy. They call me the god of destruction. He doesn’t want me to destroy everyone.”

You nodded. “Okay. Also, guys, if you see medical things that will fit in our bags, go ahead and carefully grab it. Especially gloves.”

He nodded, translating for everyone, then listening to a few follow ups. “Okay, so, just to be sure we’re all on, uh, the same page—Hoseok and I search and gather large and small supplies. Taehyung and Yoongi guard, but also grab things as they see them, and you’re guarding and searching as well?”

“That is correct,” You answered, curious. Had that not been clear? “I mean, I can also push one of the carts we brought but…I don’t even know if this place will have zombies. It was mostly an rehab center for old people, and I mostly think we’ll find gloves and hopefully a wheelchair or walker.” You shrugged.

Famous last words?

There were definitely a few zombies.

And by a few, you mean a few dozen.

Also, Hoseok was completely terrified of both the zombies and his weapons. No wonder he looked queasy.

You found a room that was empty and the five of you managed to get inside without zombies , locking and then barricading the door so you all could catch your breath and double check for injuries.

Yoongi grabbed you, moving you around and frantically checking you over, then sighing wordlessly.

“I’m fine. Were any of you hurt?” You asked, trying to visually assess Yoongi since he blocked your view of the others.

“We’re good, Tae had a close call, but he wasn’t bitten.”

Hoseok moved into your line of sight and pulled on Yoongi’s shirt, which somehow effectively pulled him away from you.

Which was good.

You were starting to feel a little nervous.

“Wheelchair!” Taehyung suddenly shouted, all signs of fatigue gone as he rushed toward a whole stack of them.

You looked around at the supplies, then met Namjoon’s gaze. “I guess this would be the supply room.”

Namjoon just grinned.

All of you quickly dispersed to fill your bags with supplies, Namjoon grabbing the different braces and checking how big they were, Hoseok carefully grabbing boxes of gloves and carefully looking over bandaging and such, and Taehyung still playing with the wheelchair.

Yoongi was trying to decipher the labels on the medicine.

You started bagging rubbing alcohol, peroxide, other creams and liquids that you recognized.

Which led to you being beside Yoongi helping grab medicines.

Yoongi seemed to look you over again. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” You answered again, shrugging.

Yoongi nodded, then showed you a label.

You nodded, then went to check on the other boys.

But Yoongi stopped you, a strange desperation in his eyes. “Stay by me,” He said firmly, anxiously.

You stared into his eyes for a moment.

“When leave, stay by me. Please,” He begged, grip on you tight.

You weren’t certain what it was about the way he asked, but the moment he asked, you knew you would say yes. “Okay. When we leave.”

All of you jumped when something banged on the door, but it didn’t sound forceful, and a glance toward the door proved that it was just one of the zombies lightly hitting the door with a cane. Geriatric zombies, those were a thing now. Zombies who used canes and possibly walkers.

Now if only they weren’t interspersed with other zombies that didn’t need such aids, getting out of there would be a cake-walk.

But like most of your life since the pandemic, of course it wouldn’t be easy.

“He should be fine,” Namjoon reassured you, pouring more peroxide over the nasty bite and ignoring Yoongi’s growl of pain.

“Why would he do that?” You asked in a whisper, shaken to your core. The five of you were in a different parking lot now, treating his bite since the coast was clear.

The boys just exchanged glances, then shrugged or muttered something.

“Well…he can take a bite and survive as long as we sanitize fast enough, whereas if you were bitten…that’d be it for you,” Namjoon said carefully, watching as Hoseok meticulously cleaned the wound and then applied antibiotic cream. “It’s preferable.”

“It’s still dangerous,” You whispered, then scanned the surroundings again for any interlopers. “And we’ll give him some antivirals just in case. I still don’t understand why…why he acts the way he does around me. One minute he won’t look at me, and the next he’s getting bit by a zombie so that I won’t be bitten.”

Namjoon looked uncomfortable, like he was hiding something.

Hoseok’s gaze darted up at you, and Yoongi was definitely looking a little red.

Taehyung was checking out the store-fronts, only a couple of steps away from the group. He pointed at one of the stores. “Why…why?”

You followed his gaze, noticing the door that you had marked. “I did that. I barricaded it and marked it. The back door too. I cleared it out. It’s safe to go in there. We’ll get you guys clothing, shoes, coats, and other extra things. But they may have gotten in through the back, so we should secure that before we start grabbing things. And I get to approve of the coats, because there’s a certain type you’ll need to make it through a winter here. Hats. Scarves. Gloves. Blankets. Sheets. Pots and pans. Dishes. You should stay in the truck,” You said pointedly, looking at Yoongi.

He rebelliously looked back, stubbornness in his features. “No. You go, I go.”

You huffed, and folded your arms, but you weren’t about to fight him as well. “Fine, but you’re staying back.”

His eyes narrowed, but that was the only response he seemed to give you.

Once Hoseok had bandaged it, and used one of the compression sleeves you all had liberated from rehab center to hold the bandaging in place and give it more protection, all of you carefully removed your barrier and then cautiously entered the store.

But the barricade on the back door was still in-tact, so you all blocked up the front door for while you were shopping, and each of you took a grocery cart or two with you. You went to the kitchen stuff first and filled a cart, then the home goods stuff and filled a cart. Checked on the boys, but they were trying on clothes and shoes together and seeming to discuss the sizes of the others.

So you went and got yourself some more clothing, your gaze continually catching on the night clothes and intimates.

But that was ridiculous. You didn’t need that stuff. You had no one to impress or dress for.

Then again….

After you put those carefully packed suitcases near the front with the carts you’d filled, then started going through coats, grabbing a few for yourself, but mostly pulling options for the hybrids. The warmest brands. Sturdy ones.

You flinched and jumped at the sound of someone sighing just behind you, staring at Yoongi as he examined one of the coats you’d set aside.

Yoongi met your gaze, looked back to the coat, then stepped closer to you. In your space.

You held your breath as he held you in his stare.

He stepped closer, body right next to yours, and then he ducked and tucked his face against your neck.

You froze, feeling his nose brush against your neck, his furry ears tickling your cheek.

Then his lips pressed to your skin and he pulled away, hand resting on the other side of your face, cupping it so that you didn’t look away as he pulled back.

After a second, amusement sparkled in his eyes and he smirked slightly.

Then he was walking away.

And you were frozen. Absolutely frozen.

Because what the hell was that.

Once you had a coat for each of them, including the ones that were waiting at home, they all sort of went to explore since they could.

You grabbed hats and gloves, some beauty products that it carried (which weren’t numerous). Socks. Boots for when yours wore out.

Then you and the boys carefully packed everything into the trailer before heading over to a farm store that you’d raided and secured before.

Except this time you had extra muscle power to load those wood-burning stoves into your trailer. And extra lumber, chicken wire and other fencing supplies, tools, oils, kerosene, butane, propane, rope, nails, screws, sleeping bags, tents, flashlights and lamps, brooders, feeders and waterers for all of your animals, extra chicken coops and rabbit hutches and just so many different and various things you needed or would need. And lots of seeds. And heavy duty work-boots, overalls, and other labor gear for everyone (yourself included, because you would wear through those boots eventually and your father had drilled in you the importance of good footwear).

Not because you couldn’t come back. With the gas you’d managed to salvage, you probably had enough for another eight trips if you kept decent speeds and your car stayed maintained. And your neighbor had been talking about rigging vehicles with alternate fuel sources, so if he ever got that working….

But you had to assume that he wouldn’t, which meant getting as much as you could while you were in town.

Which is why you thought it couldn’t hurt to see if that little oriental market that had been near there had anything that kept that they might enjoy. But it was smaller, so you told them only one other person could go in with you and still be able to fight, and that you’d prefer it be Namjoon since the two of you could communicate more easily.

There was extreme reluctance, especially since you hadn’t specified where you were going and there were several stores in that plaza, but with the walkie talkies that you all had acquired they finally agreed.

And you got five sacks of rice that still seemed to be okay.

Then you guys hit the plaza with two big-box stores. Getting storage containers, mattresses (because none of you trusted the mattresses left behind in the houses, and the boys insisted if they get one [bless them, they planned on sharing one] that you get one as well and Yoongi wouldn’t let you say no so you made them get two mattresses for themselves), and then you all split up to search the many food isles for unexpired goods.

And of course you got paired with Yoongi.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking up and down the isles, you pushing the cart because he was insisting on being the guard. Not that you guys thought there might still be zombies lurking around (you highly doubted there would be any still hiding after the way Taehyung had run around yelling happily once the group had finished killing the four or five zombies that were in there), but it was better to be safe than sorry.

So there you were, chucking snacks that had been chock-full of preservatives into the cart, and wondering if the cereals would be stale or if they could still be good after two years.

Wondering if he was ever going to say anything.

Grabbing just about every canned good after checking expiration dates.

Taehyung said more when he brought you guys two carts, speaking mostly to Yoongi, who translated roughly. Something about the other boys and medicine.

And then Taehyung was gone with the other two carts he had been pushing, and dragging your full cart away.

The store next door had yarns and fabrics that you all just packed right up, regardless of pattern or texture, as well as all of the threads and pins and beads, packing everything in more boxes and such. Raiding the notebooks, pens, pencils, books (including text books, which included English textbooks that Yoongi grabbed several of, and a Korean-English dictionary and textbooks that you grabbed since you figured they’d be there for a while and hey, what’s another language to pass the time), clothing (again, what could you say, you didn’t know how to make socks or comfortable underwear), instant-photo cameras (Taehyung was especially excited about those with main mentions of Jimin in his ramblings), another pharmacy raid, shampoo and soap, and all of the hybrid stuff that they could ever want, extra furniture that was easier to move, more dishes and cookware, candles, canning supplies, solar panels, solar batteries (could never have enough of those), more foods that you knew would keep (because you were now feeding eight people and Taehyung liked to snack, he was doing it in the store the moment you said something was still good), and then if the boys secreted some things into what you all got you didn’t pay attention since they also didn’t pay attention as you checked out the period supplies because that didn’t stop with the pandemic and though you had alternatives (which you picked up more of, thank the heavens) sometimes it was just easier.

And Taehyung had a cart full of ramen that you weren’t about to fault him for.

Yoongi was the only one awake on the drive home.

“What was that earlier?” You asked. “At the coat store.”

He sighed and you heard pages turning. “True partner.”

You waited for more, but that seemed to be all he was going to say on that front. “What does that mean?”

He sighed again, this time more aggravated and with a slight hiss to it. More pages flipping and you could see his frown in the rear-view mirror.

Finally a frustrated growl and the thunk of a book closing. “Home. Jungkook.”

“We’re almost there,” You replied quietly, sighing. “Almost there.”

Jungkook rushed out when you all arrived, grinning with relief. “Hyungs!”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi called back, hurrying to him and grabbing his wrists.

Jungkook immediately nuzzled Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi started muttering something, with glances toward you that soon had Jungkook staring as he gently fingered the fabric over the bandaging.

Taehyung raced inside.

Namjoon gestured to the load. “Unload today, or tomorrow?”

“Unload light stuff, leave the heavy stuff for later.”

He nodded, translating and calling Jungkook and Yoongi over.

You grabbed an old pumpkin cart and brought it over for them while Jimin brought over a couple of the grocery carts.

And Jungkook….

You had to scold him about eight-dozen times not to lift things that were too heavy, but every time he just grinned at you and cutely said “no speak English” and carried on (but it usually gave the other guys time to get over to him and at least help carry the heavier things.

Jimin was parked in the basement stacking canned and jarred goods on your food shelves and medicines and other non-food items on your other shelves, since it required less movement and he apparently aggravated his injury while all of you were gone. You were guessing one of the goats tried to get him, but Namjoon didn’t seem to know how to translate what was said, so you just left it at that.

Taehyung had rejoined everyone in unloading, and was working with you as a two man conveyor system for Jimin.

You swore Jungkook was trying to show off.

Yoongi took the suitcases that all of you had filled with clothing and coats and stacked them in your bedroom to go through later.

And before you knew it, the truck and trailer were almost completely empty.

Jungkook had ingredients out like he was about to cook, and he looked at you happily, as though inviting you to cook with him.

You nodded, gesturing for him to lead on.

He grinned and then brought you some vegetables. “Chop.”

You nodded, not even surprised as Yoongi also joined you and Jungkook and everyone else disappeared to ‘go check on Seokjin’. Because you could see Taehyung and Jimin playing outside and exploring one of the greenhouses, looking at the pumpkins, and Namjoon was just through the door, looking through a stack of books. Which meant Hoseok was probably the only one who actually went to check on Seokjin.

Yoongi and Jungkook somehow managed to give you enough instructions that you managed to help them, and when they couldn’t find an ingredient and couldn’t name it, you would play a guessing game with Yoongi. The hardest was probably soy sauce.

But the most surprising thing was probably how…touchy they were with you.

Or when Jungkook just came up behind you, wrapped one arm around your waist, shoved his face in your neck, and licked you.

Licked. You.

And you yelped, because all of that happened in about two seconds, and you could feel their surprisingly stunned stares as you booked it out of there.

You walked quickly across to one of the greenhouses, cursing frantically and pretending you were doing something completely routine by getting treats for your animals.

Namjoon found you, looking nervous. “Hey. Yoongi sent me to find you.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, picking up a pumpkin. “What the hell is going on, Namjoon? And I am not in the mood for and BS.”

He winced. “Um…what do you know…about…mates?”

“I suppose we aren’t talking about the British or Australian definitions, and more biological definition?” You led the way toward your rabbit barn and hutch.

He nodded, looking anywhere but you. “Definitely more biological.”

“Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs as translator,” You muttered, dropping the pumpkin so that it would break, and then putting pieces of it in the different hutches with some of the seeds for them to enjoy, but also giving them lots of fresh grasses and greens so that they wouldn’t overindulge. You’d give the rest of it to the goats and pig.

He shrugged, peeking at the rabbits. “Cute. So, for hybrids, potential mates are identified by smell a lot of the time. Jungkook and Yoongi are technically mates, but…they also identified you as a potential mate. So…they…want to stay near you.”

“So, hypothetically, if I had told them about a hybrid city that you all may have wanted to go to after leaving here and they reacted poorly to it, it would be because it was almost like an unconscious rejection of them?” You asked, darting glances toward him.

He snorted, and then started laughing. “Is that what happened? Geez, they’re so dramatic. Look, I already told them to take it easy around you because you are human and it might not be something you want for yourself. But…even if you aren’t…we would all like to stick around. Maybe not here exactly, but we could be close by and help you out when you need it. You’re the first person, hybrid or human, who has ever been kind to us. And we feel safe here. Would it be okay if we stuck around?”

You considered it for a moment, wondering what it was that made them feel so safe or comfortable. And if you were okay with what he’d said. Yoongi and Jungkook wanted you as their mate. As proposals went, you’d heard worse, but you also hadn’t known them long enough to commit to anything. “Tell them they have to play the long-game. And…I kept a couple of the nearby houses from having burst pipes the last two winters for when people pass through. If we get the one across the street set up with a power supply, you guys can live there. The house next door is for refugees on the move, and me. It’s easier to bathe there.”

He grinned at you. “We can stay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not. But that means we’ll have to be frugal. I’ll need you guys to help me get two more greenhouses planted.”

“Sure! We can do that!” He grinned happily, bouncing on his toes.

“Great. Now, go tell the boys to stop attacking me with affection out of the blue.”

He laughed and hurried off to tell the others.

What had you just agreed to?

———

You weren’t sure what it was about Halloween that always brought more zombies around than normal. Maybe it was the swift approach of winter. The hard frosts. Urging them to migrate.

Either way, you’d had your work cut out for you from the moment you woke up.

Thankfully, the boys hadn’t wandered off alone at all, and never unarmed after you woke everyone by shooting the rifle.

You did lose another chicken though, the one that refused to go into the coop once she’d escaped the previous evening.

“Is that coffee?” Yoongi asked, gaze locked on your mug.

“Sort of,” You answered, gesturing to the pot. “There’s coffee in it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You’d combined your coffee-tasting tea with some of the frozen coffee grounds you had. You hadn’t resorted to your instant coffee yet. You weren’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to coffee.

But that day was fast approaching.

You would have to bid your vice goodbye.

Another gunshot alerted you to an issue out front, but you waited for the holler for assistance.

“We’re good!”

You nodded and poured Yoongi a mug of the sort-of-coffee sort-of-tea.

He took a sip and sighed. “Good.”

“Glad you like it,” You replied.

He nodded, then sat back beside you, surveying the fields for more zombies.

Jungkook came and sat between the two of you on the ground, leaning against Yoongi’s legs.

They sat with you in comfortable silence, though Jungkook was also tracing the seam along your calf. Barely touching, seemingly an absentminded action, but slowly capturing your full attention.

Jungkook peeked up at you, then back down, tugging on the seam. “Okay?”

You smiled. “Sure.” It was amusing that he wanted permission to play with a seam.

Yoongi glanced around, then got up. “Can see house?” He asked, pointing toward the house next door.

You looked around seeing Jimin and Hoseok coming around to relieve you and Yoongi from your watch. “Sure, just tell them where we’re going.”

Jungkook nodded, hopping up and racing to meet them, glancing back multiple times as they continued walking over.

Jimin gave you a thumbs up, and they took your places.

You led the two curious hybrids over to the house, glad you’d kept up with cleaning it once a week. It was chilly in there, but not freezing. And honestly, during winter, you preferred staying in there because of the bathroom. You’d set up a shower in the store, and a sort of bath, but usually if you really wanted to feel clean and bathe in nice hot water, you came to the house and indulged because it had an energy efficient water heater that could run on the power supply you generated all through the year.

Either way, the cozy house was clean and well-furnished.

Jungkook looked around curiously, straying a little.

Yoongi stayed close to you.

“Not much to see. I put overstock food in the basement when I need to.”

Yoongi nodded, then got closer to you, seeming to ponder his words carefully. “Namjoon told you, scents and things.”

You felt a decently strong urge to start running. “Uh, yes. Did he tell you what I told him?”

He nodded, then rolled up his sleeve. He rubbed against certain parts of his wrist and arm, then held it out to you.

You blinked at him, confused beyond reason.

“Smell,” He said quietly.

You looked between him and his arm skeptically, then leaned forward and casually sniffed his wrist.

Then you sniffed again, because who the heck smelled like petrichor?!

Jungkook eagerly joined the two of you, offering you his wrist.

Jasmine.

Your weaknesses.

Yoongi gently pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You smell nice with us.”

You closed your eyes.

“Oranges?” Jungkook guessed, nuzzling up to your other side.

And oh, those sneaky fluff-butts.

And didn’t they know that there were zombies around.

But of course they could tell how you felt about all of this thanks to their superior sniffers.

Which was probably how you ended up kissing Jungkook while Yoongi kissed your neck.

All of you stopped at the sound of a particularly loud gunshot.

Shortly followed by two more shots that had all of you hurrying out to make sure everything was under control.

You carefully avoided them the rest of the afternoon, not entirely certain you trusted yourself around them and their stupid petrichor and jasmine which were your favorites. And they said you smelled like oranges and what did that even mean aside from Yoongi saying that you smelled good with them. Were oranges a desirable smell?

But whenever you passed by them, or were near, they found a way to lightly touch your arm, brush their hand against yours, rest their hand on the small of your back, tuck your hair away from your face and you totally didn’t end up kissing Yoongi when he went with you to feed the broody turkey.

And you both definitely wouldn’t have been overtaken by a zombie if Jungkook hadn’t conveniently come by and shot it.

Jungkook peppered you both with kisses, as though those would help calm you from the close call, and then pointed out that he had set out the jack-o-lanterns.

You stared at the glowing pumpkins and started laughing, because, of all the things to prioritize that day, with zombies all around…he made sure the jack-o-lanterns were put out.

So maybe when all of it was you were assigning watch duty for the night, you made sure those two would be with you, because you felt safe with them looking after you. Both of them had saved you.

“Lonely?” Yoongi whispered, staring up at the stars.

“No,” You whispered back, fingers running through Jungkook’s hair. But this time that was all you needed to say. It was enough.

“Good,” Jungkook sighed, giving a sort of rumble of approval and melting further against you as you gently scratched behind his ears, fluffy tail wrapping around him and eyes drifting shut.

There was a long trial ahead of you. Learning their language, fighting zombies, making sure there was enough food to eat, fighting zombies, caring for the livestock, fighting zombies, and exploring whatever this was with Yoongi and Jungkook. Maybe even convincing them to try and make it over to the hybrid town, just to try and initiate trade or something.

There were a lot of things to think about, and consider, questions to ask and have answered.

But in the glow of the three jack-o-lanterns, with soft smell of petrichor and jasmine surrounding you and the sounds of the others talking and laughing inside, you weren’t worried.

You weren’t lonely. “Not anymore.”

--

Next

--

Zombie Apocalypse Masterpost

Tagging: @lost-xim, @bryophytas, @young-yellkie, @alex--awesome--22,  @missmoxxiesworld​, @knjhe​,  @i-dont-even-know-fck​, 

#zombie!au #yoonkook #yoongi x jungkook x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoongi #jungkook #bts x reader #hybrid!au #bts fic #bts #red panda!jungkook #feline!yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #taejin #taehyung #jimin #seokjin #zombie apocolypse au #farm au

[balmasedas]

desperado / druglord!javier peña au. 

chapter one.

summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics. 

warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.

word count: 2.5k.

You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.

The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.

Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight. 

"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice. 

“You��re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow. 

You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.” 

Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.

"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.

Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.

"When did you get the call?" you inquire.

He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.

You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"

Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities? 

"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.

“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.” 

Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.

“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”

(,,,)

Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later. 

As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.

You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them. 

You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.

“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.

You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.

"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.

"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"

You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.

"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."

(,,,)

The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away. 

He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.

It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip. 

You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.

You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place. 

You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.

You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate. 

And delicacy just won't do. 

So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.

“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly. 

“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.

His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.

You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice. 

Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.

"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.

You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.

"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."

You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.

The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.

Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience. 

Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside. 

Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.

Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.

"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.

"⁹Sí." you mutter.

Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

Bad news.

You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it. 

You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment. 

How naive of you. 

A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie. 

All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.

You sit in silence and wait for the worst.

#my work #javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine #javier peña one shot #javier pena one shot #pedro pascal smut #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro balmaceda pascal

[dangerdangerhighvoltage]

Night Off (MC x Kojuro x Tsunamoto)

MC and Kojuro are trying to navigate their relationship after finally hooking up, only for Tsunamoto to crash the party with his chaotic ass. it's double daddy duty featuring one of supporting cast's finest. nsfw!

You never were one to concentrate on one thing at a time. 

As you scooped porridge into a bowl, you mentally listed all the letters that were awaiting a response from Kojuro. You carefully laid the soft doughy orb of mochi on top of the porridge while noting you needed to track down that retainer to get his report on how the crops were faring this season. As you attempted to remember the name of some Western book Lord Masamune had requested, the boiling water you meant to pour into the teapot had instead landed on your hand. 

“Ahh!” you hissed. Chastised by your own folly, you finally focused on the task at hand, assembling the tray for Kojuro’s afternoon tea break including an extra tea cup for yourself. It had been a few weeks since the incident, and you were relieved that things were starting to feel normal again, if not a little awkward.

The month before last, the clan embarked on a particularly brutal campaign. Upon their return, an abnormally shaken Kojuro promptly made love to you, after a year of working closely late into the night, nursing each others’ hangovers, confiding in each other different ways to help Lord Masamune not be so hard on himself. Kojuro fucked you on his desk on the heaps and heaps of his letters and notes and then again in his bedding, drawing from you something he had left on the battlefield. You were genuinely surprised Kojuro had made good on the attraction between you, but the next day, you could have sworn you overheard Shigezane distributing to a handful of retainers what sounded like payouts for a bet. 

You and Kojuro decided that while you both enjoyed yourselves that night and were clearly well suited, it was not the best time to pursue something real, not with the Ashina acting up as they were. The others teased Kojuro endlessly about making an honest woman out of you, and for some reason, a part of you believed he actually wanted to. But the thing about Kojuro was he would never be forced to make a decision about you so long as he had that endless pile of work on his desk to hide behind. 

It’s not as if you wanted to be an honest woman anyway.

And so it was as though you started your relationship from scratch, relearning boundaries and reacquainting yourself with some professional distance. The only acknowledgment of your intimacy—other than the fact that he ceased referring to you as his “precious girl”—was the fact that you had started to join him for his afternoon tea every day. And that’s exactly what you were looking forward to doing when you walked back into his office, tray in hand, only to find a brawny, effortlessly disheveled, scar-faced sight sitting in your spot.

“Look what the winds blew in,” Kojuro said to you mischievously.

“Lord Tsunamoto!” you exclaimed, shocked to see the handsome man before you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Whereas Kojuro was seated rather formally at his desk, Tsunamoto sat back outstretched, his chest peeking through his signature, generously loose robe. You’d always been a bit nervous around the man, his lingering eye contact, and general aversion to modesty. You dismissed him as not your type more as a form of self protection, like a chest of gunpowder dodging a spark. Despite being polar opposites, he and Kojuro were thick as thieves when reunited, Kojuro bringing a calm patience out in Tsunamoto, and Tsunamoto reviving a roguish edge in Kojuro. 

“Surprised to see me?” Tsunamoto declared more than asked. Why did everything about him seem flirtatious?

“Did you send a letter?” you asked, knowing he hadn’t. “I’d have planned a feast if I knew you were visiting!” 

“No need for the fanfare. I’m just passing through for a few days.” 

"Too late, I already have a menu in mind,” you said, picking up the teapot. Tsunamoto’s eye locked on the second cup as you poured the tea. Your face heated up as you watched him realize the second cup wasn’t meant for him, that maybe he was interrupting something. You wondered if from just one mundane piece of ceramic, he deduced everything about your and Kojuro’s past. Tsunamoto cocked his head, and directed an inquisitive smile toward Kojuro who was suddenly couldn’t seem to drink his tea fast enough.

"I suppose there’s no point in trying to stop you,” Tsunamoto relented, graciously accepting the cup you offered.

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Kojuro quipped.

“Uh huh.” Tsunamoto noted. His gaze flickered to you.

“Let me bring you some oshiruko,” you said with a firm smile and a desperate need to catch your breath. 

“No need,” Kojuro waved away. “Bring him his favorite dessert.”

You cocked your head at him in confusion. The two men looked at each other in a way that made your cheek tingle. 

“Sake,” Kojuro said slyly.

The next morning, you arrived at training, where Tsunamoto had stepped in to lead. After sparring one-on-one with every retainer, he finally approached you. 

“Solid form,” he offered as your wooden swords cracked against one another. You had been on the defense the whole time, allowing him to gain ground or at least think he was. Luckily for you, his strength made him slower, and as his body twisted to strike at you, you quickly maneuvered under his swing, striking him in his side in a full low lunge. He let out a laugh as you smiled shyly to yourself. 

“I’ve taught her well, huh?” Kojuro called out from afar, who had apparently stopped by to observe training.

“Technique was always your strength,” Tsunamoto called back to him. 

You resumed sparring, Tsunamoto hitting a bit stronger and moving much faster than before. With every step you took, he met you there, almost predicting your movements. The confidence you gained now sputtered out as you barely dodged his attacks. Running out of ideas, you tried a new gambit Kojuro taught you but as you spun around, you felt yourself caught in a vise-grip, your back to Tsunamoto’s chest as if he was simply waiting for you to fall into his trap. His arms easily restraining yours, he brought his lips to your ear and lowered his voice, looking directly at Kojuro who was watching the two of you intently.

“See, I know a few of Kojuro’s weaknesses as well,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“Besides, who do you think taught him?” He let you go and jogged back over to the rest of the retainers as if nothing happened. Straightening out your hakama, you looked over at Kojuro who hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After a full day of cooking and preparing, you tried to make yourself scarce during that night’s feast. You spent the evening running back and forth between the kitchen and main hall, hauling food and empty dishes until someone, you weren’t sure who, grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit between Kojuro and Tsunamoto. Despite your initial protests, the two of them finally convinced you to stay and enjoy your own handiwork. You relented, and jovially ate, drank, and chatted with the rest of them, until you remembered something.

“Hells, I never spoke to Shiroishi about the crops today,” you confessed with a grimace. 

“Yeah, I'm not sure Shiroishi is in any state to discuss much of anything,” Tsunamoto said. Across the room, the retainer in question was somewhere between laughing drunk and falling asleep drunk.

“What kind of master am I?” Kojuro bemoaned. “My own page sitting here thinking about work when she should be enjoying herself?”

“She learned from the best,” Tsunamoto joked under his breath. 

“Milord,” you started, “You’re a good ma—”

He turned to you, his face serious. “I want you to forget about all your work. Take the night off and just have a good time, okay?” Since you and Kojuro slept together, “good time” had become something of a loaded term. 

“But Milord,” you teased. “Who will keep your desk clear?” 

“I can keep my own desk clear for one night, thank you very much!” 

“You didn’t even clear it when we—” 

You cut yourself off abruptly and bowed your head in embarrassment, suddenly realizing how much you had drank. Tsunamoto let out a satisfied laugh, and you thought Kojuro would strike you down then and there for your slip up. But he merely smirked at you, amused. It’s not like anyone else had heard outside you three—by now all the retainers were completely intoxicated and Lord Masamune had excused himself long ago.

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time, precious girl,” Kojuro fired back with a small, unbearably winning smile. You were at once delighted and flustered by Kojuro’s familiarity and Tsunamoto's presence. You didn’t know what to make of him playing witness to this charged tête-à-tête. 

Sensing the tension, Tsunamoto spoke up. "That’s our Kojuro, always with the last word.” 

“You see what I have to work with every day?” you fussed, turning to him with a big smile.

"You poor thing,” Tsunamoto said, playing along and touching your cheek. You were surprised by the gesture, but played it off well. You happily sipped your sake, oblivious to the glance Kojuro and Tsunamoto shared, an entire unspoken conversation transpiring above your head.

It was late into the night when the last of the retainers drunkenly shuffled off to their quarters for the night, and Kojuro asked you to bring a jug of sake to his office. When you arrived you were astonished to find the two of them seated across Kojuro’s desk boisterously engaged in a heated match of arm wrestling of all things. Only Tsunamoto could convince Kojuro to engage in such nonsensical activities.

“So these are the brilliant, visionary advisors of the Date clan,” you huffed as they cheerfully welcomed you. You sat down at the edge of the desk and looked back and forth between them before pouring the sake. With great effort, Kojuro finally pressed Tsunamoto’s knuckles into the wood. 

“Damn,” Tsunamoto grumbled. They downed the sake and immediately put their elbows back on the table, ready for another bout. You poured more sake and sipped on your own. "Alright, this is the tiebreaker,” Tsunamoto said, flexing his fingers.

“And what is the prize?” you asked. 

“A kiss from the beautiful page,” Tsunamoto cracked. 

“And smart,” you added.

“Right, a kiss from the beautiful and smart page,” Tsunamoto beamed.

Kojuro looked up at you, concerned. “[Y/n], you don’t have to—”

“Okay,” you said simply. Kojuro was dumbfounded.

“What?” 

“I said okay. I will kiss whoever wins this stupid competition,” you said with a shrug. Did those words just come out of your mouth? The two men looked at each other again, and again you felt that tingle in your cheek.

“You heard her, Kojuro,” Tsunamoto said.

“I suppose I did.”

The two readied themselves on Kojuro’s desk, grasped hands and began, but this round was different. For the first time since Lord Tsunamoto arrived, the two men went silent as they strained to defeat the other. 

“Kojuro, finally putting up a fight. Desperate for a kiss, old man?” Tsunamoto jeered.

"Put as much effort into training as you do into talking shit and you’d have unified Japan yourself by now,” Kojuro taunted back.

Unable to fathom the scene playing out in front of you, you simply took another shot of sake. It was a total deadlock for minutes until suddenly with a loud crack, both men were sent to the floor. Apparently Kojuro’s poor desk gave out from the pressure of the match or perhaps it had simply lost the will to live after years of neglect and misuse. The three of you devolved into a fit of laughter as you pieced together what had occurred.

“A draw!” Kojuro howled. 

“We both lost? How pathetic!” Tsunamoto asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and trying not to laugh again, though you sensed he was relieved at the outcome. The two men sat up on either side of the broken desk, looking down in amused pity.

“Or maybe,” you said timidly. “You both won.” 

You couldn’t believe what you had just said. What you had just implied. The two men froze and looked at you, waiting for the catch, for you to burst into laughter and exclaim, “Gotcha!” and tease them endlessly for thinking twice. But you didn’t. 

“[Y/n]?” Kojuro asked softly with a nervous smile. 

With the latest shot of sake taking effect, you leaned over to him and gave him a firm kiss. His body froze before you, and you instantly cursed yourself for being so stupid and so forward. What were you thinking? You expected him to pull back, graciously reiterate the need for professionalism, and dismiss you for the night, but to your surprise, he dug his fingers in your hair and deepened the kiss. His tongue grazed your lips hungrily and bit your lip the same way he did when you first kissed just weeks ago, and you felt the same rush of sensual relief.

The two of you parted with a small, uncertain smile. You took a breath and looked deep into the torrent of Kojuro’s eyes.

“I’m going to kiss him now,” you said. “Is that alright, Milord?”

“Of course,” Kojuro said with a genuine smile. “He earned it just as much as I did.”

Kojuro watched as you leaned over to Tsunamoto. For perhaps the first time ever, Tsunamoto looked thrown off, almost nervous, which exhilarated you. You lips brushed over his. He looked over at Kojuro questioningly, and Kojuro nodded encouragingly. Satisfied with this, Tsunamoto closed his eyes and drew you closer, hungrily lapping at and biting your lips. You expected him to be an aggressive kisser compared to Kojuro, but there was also a sweetness about the way he gently swept his tongue against yours. 

Tsunamoto broke the kiss before you were ready. You hadn’t even noticed that Kojuro had moved the broken table aside and moved closer to you. The two men stood up and pulled you up between them. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Kojuro asked. You looked at the dizzyingly handsome men on either side of you. “Want us?” 

“Yes,” you panted as you kissed Kojuro again, grabbing his collar. You felt Kojuro loosen your obi as Tsunamoto stood behind you and began to kiss your neck, his hands loosening your collar. You reached to grasp at both of their hair as Tsunamoto opened up your kimono, exposing your breasts. 

Kojuro leaned back and took the sight in before leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth. From behind, Tsunamoto took your other breast into his hand and possessively turned your head to kiss you. 

“Nghgh,” you moaned as both the men worked your breasts. Kojuro finally removed your obi and your body was completely exposed. He licked his fingers and placed them between your legs, where he began stroking you. You were already wet, but you had to admit you missed his touch. Tsunamoto slid the kimono completely off your shoulders, his hands trailed down the sides of your body and he grabbed a handful of your ass. 

“Fuck,” Tsunamoto exhaled. “You have this parading around your office all day?” You caught a glimmer of pride in Kojuro’s eyes as you set to work on Kojuro’s obi, freeing him of his robes. You were pleased to find he was already hard. You grasped him, and looked behind you to find Tsunamoto removing his own robe. 

“Come here,” Tsunamoto said as he lowered himself to the floor and lied down. Kojuro guided you to Tsunamoto’s head and gently pushed you down onto your knees until they flanked Tsunamoto’s ears. You could feel the warmth of Tsunamoto’s breath on your slit. Kojuro stood in front of you, his member in hand. You grabbed it and held it to your lips, teasing his tip with your tongue as Tsunamoto ran his fingers in and out of your folds, spreading them. You finally took Kojuro fully into your mouth just as Tsunamoto pulled you down fully onto his lips and eager tongue. You immediately felt a pulse of pleasure shoot from Tsunamoto’s tongue to your extremities, and you let out a loud moan around Kojuro. 

You started to squirm, but Tsunamoto held you in place like a clamp as he lapped you up. There was clearly no escaping your own pleasure—the only thing you could do, really, was take it out on Kojuro. You furiously swirled your tongue around him. Cursing, Kojuro ran his fingers through your hair and pushed further into your mouth, which in turn, made you grind your hips harder on Tsunamoto’s face, who moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Ride him,” Kojuro growled and you looked up. “I want to see.” He was wearing the same face he was when he watched you at training earlier that day. Feeling your climax start to build up, you began to ride Tsunamoto’s face harder, thrusting your hips back and forth whimpering, his fingers clenched deep in your hips, his tongue unabating. You started to lose focus and could barely hold onto Kojuro, abandoning his pleasure in search of your own. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, captivated, as you grabbed your own breast and unraveled before him on Tsunamoto’s face with a full-throated sigh. 

You got off Tsunamoto and collapsed as he got on his knees. "God I hope she feels as good as she tastes,” Tsunamoto said, licking the corners of his mouth.

“He would know,” you said boldly staring down Kojuro.

“Find out for yourself,” Kojuro said. The two men looked at you and you nodded.

Tsunamoto pulled you to him. He sat back on his heels and guided you into his lap, wrapping your legs around him as his tip teased your opening before pushing himself in. 

“You feel incredible,” Tsunamoto uttered in amazement. He stretched you out gently.

You surveyed the scar that trailed down Tsunamoto’s brow and onto his regal cheek. Your gaze locked on his other eye and as he began thrusting in earnest, it suddenly became so clear why Tsunamoto carried himself with endless confidence. You watched him roll his hips tantalysingly slow and deep into you, hitting all the right spots.

“How does he feel, precious girl?” Kojuro asked. He was stroking himself at the sight of you. 

“He feels so—uuuunnnh!” Your response was interrupted by a particularly deep plunge Tsunamoto took. 

You looked back at Kojuro and reached for him, but he leaned back just out of reach with a mean grin. “You need to learn to focus on the task at hand,” he said lovingly. He watched as Tsunamoto drove into you harder and faster, his strong arms essentially keeping you floating as he slid in and out of you. Kojuro was completely entranced, savoring the way your eyes glazed over as his oldest friend in the world fucked the woman he loved if only he'd let himself, wondering if the most precious things weren’t meant to be shared. 

Tsunamoto slowed down in an attempt to stave off his own climax. Kojuro kneeled behind you, steadying you as Tsunamoto pulled out of you and you got your bearings.

“Are you alright, precious girl?” You nodded, catching your breath. 

“Good. All fours,” Kojuro directed. You did so, swaying your hips in an attempt to further tempt him. Kojuro sidled up behind you and caressed your back, kissing the dimples on your lower back. Your eyes met Tsunamoto’s as Kojuro positioned his cock between your folds and pressed in. You let out a long, lusty moan that bloomed more for every inch he filled you. He hadn’t taken you from behind before, and you wondered how you’d be able to work alongside him anymore after this.

You lost yourself in Kojuro’s languid thrusts and found yourself again, grinding back against him. He whisked you up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest. 

“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you,” he professed softly into your ear. “That I haven’t dreamed of feeling you like this again.” He wrapped his arm around your torso to keep you in place as he dove in and out of you. Tsunamoto crawled over to you and bent down, pressing his tongue squarely on your clit.

“Ahhnn!” You cried out as he raked his tongue up and down from your clit to your opening where Kojuro was thrusting into you. 

The sensation was too much too soon, so you grabbed Tsunamoto’s hair, pulled him to your face, and gave him a frantic, sloppy kiss as you took his cock and stroked him. You felt Kojuro lean over your shoulder, and you pulled away.

“She taste as good as she feels?” Kojuro asked as Tsunamoto approached. You watched as the two men took each other by the lips. You joined in, the three of you licking, biting, sucking each other as you pumped Tsunamoto to Kojuro’s rhythm.

Tsunamoto stood up in a frenzy and placed his cock on your lips. You knew he was close, and you took him into your mouth. “You are taking us so well,” Tsunamoto said as you devoured him. As Kojuro devoured you. You whined as you felt the electricity build up in your core. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m so close!” 

Kojuro managed to fuck you even faster and harder. He brought his hand between your legs, his fingers fluttering on your clit as Tsunamoto all but fucked your mouth. Kojuro groaned as you screamed in pleasure around Tsunamoto’s cock. 

“I’m coming,” Tsunamoto rasped as he ejected into your mouth. You did your best to take it all as you reached your own climax. You felt feverish, heat tearing through your body and cracking you open. 

“Come for me my precious girl,” Kojuro snarled in your ear. 

You let out a cry as the pleasure rushed through you, leaving you trembling. You tightened unbearably around Kojuro’s cock, and he finally released into you with a curse.

The three of you collapsed on the floor, sprawled in a heap of pleasure and exhaustion and a giggle or two. 

“If only every trip to Oshu was this fun,” Tsunamoto simpered. You sighed a chuckle in response.

Kojuro reached up for his kiseru. You caressed his back, muscular by training, worn by war. “You know, [y/n],” he panted. “You should take the night off more often.”

You and Tsunamoto shared a knowing look, both helplessly endeared by the precious, precious man. 

#slbp sasuke #slbp smut #slbp kojuro #slbp tsunamoto #katakura kojuro #oniniwa tsunamoto #tsunamoto

[behindheremeraldeyes]

title: the next step is love

summary: Modern AU - It’s Sakura’s birthday, and after the party, she’s left to take care of the mess of dirty plates and glasses. Luckily, she’s not alone, but he can’t really stay forever, right?

a/n: Okay, this story was supposed to have come out way earlier, but I changed the plot so many times that I just couldn’t finish it for her birthday... The original idea was so different, and perhaps, I end up writing it another time when the inspiration strikes again (seriously, it was a nice one). Anyway, I hope you can still enjoy this one! As always, my fluff side took over me and I just had to make something simple and domestic for the Queen’s bday! Hope you enjoy it, and please, let me know what you think! (also, this is un-betta’d. I wanted to post this asap because I’m working on a different project, so... bear with me)

.

“Thank you for coming! ‘Careful on your way home!”

The sound of the door clicking shut reverberates across her entire apartment, and it only takes one second for that smiley expression to fade from her face. Her right hand is still placed over the door-knob, and for a brief moment, she closes her eyes, letting out a deep sigh in pure contentment. The last guests are finally on their merry way home now, and at last, she can stop worrying about things such as making sure no one’s feeling left out or re-filling toilet paper. Even if they’re all good friends, her perfectionist mind can’t simply allow her to enjoy the night without worrying about those details.

After turning the key, her hand moves to massage the back of her neck, and finally, she sets her toes free from her black heels. A mix of relief and calmness spreads all over her body, as a soft smile takes over her cherry-colored lips. This, perhaps, might be her favorite part of her birthday parties— or any party, for the matter— because, right now, she can finally savor all the things she's prepared for the night. The food, the decoration, the soothing music...

Oh, what a dream, she thinks, at first, before looking around with her lazy eyes and frowning at the scene. If only all of that mess could magically disappear by the time she wakes up tomorrow morning.

A sigh escapes her lungs as she makes her way back to the center of the hurricane that is her living room. Just like last year, she starts wondering why on earth she let Ino convince her to host her own birthday party instead of going out for a couple of drinks like most people do. Though the pinkette really enjoys having her friends over for a couple of hours, she can’t deny that the day after March 28th is probably the most tiring of the year. Sakura knows she's barely gonna get any sleep tonight, and by the time her alarm goes off around 5:30, she will certainly need at least 1 liter of coffee in order to go through her shift without falling asleep.

In theory, she could leave all that mess for tomorrow, sure, but thanks to her cleaning compulsion, that’s not really an option for her.

If only she could be a little more like Naruto...

Still, as she shakes her pink head, Sakura decides there’s no use in thinking about it tonight. That’s a problem for her future-self, and even if she’s probably going to regret that decision in the morning, right now, this is her moment. She can drink a full glass of champagne while eating another piece of her strawberry cake, and the best part is that she can do it all while enjoying the company of the only one whose presence will never be a bother to her.

Once she finally reaches her kitchen, the pinkette is fast to register the dirty dishes laying around the counter. There are way more glasses than the number of people she invited for the party, but for a brief moment, she forgets that she’s the owner of that mess. Her emerald eyes automatically drift towards the sink, and her heart skips a beat at the scene playing in front of her.

Not even in her wildest, teenage-ish dreams would she have ever pictured Uchiha Sasuke doing her dishes after her birthday party. Though she knows she’s the one who’s technically responsible for all of that, it’s inevitable for her to be entertained by how focused he seems to be while attempting to remove that lipstick stain from the cup.

How lovely, she ponders, bitting her lower lip in order to suppress a chuckle.

Too bad she can’t just keep watching him for the rest of the night.

“You know, even if I appreciate both your help and the view, you don’t have to do this, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura says, picking up some of the plates laying around and walking towards the sink. She’s standing by his side now, his tall body towering over hers, almost a head taller. The expression decorating his features remains unaltered, and she notices how he slowly moves to give her some space next to him. “You can go rest, if you want.”

“Do you want me to go leave?” He asks, unaltered, while scrubbing another knife.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She answers, grabbing a piece of cloth to dry the cutlery he has already washed. “I just don’t want you to do something you don’t want just because it’s my birthday or anything like that. It’s fine, really. I can do it alone.”

“Hn, It’s faster if we do it together.” He stops, a sly smirk taking over the corner of his lips as he closes the tap. His eyes are on hers, now, and she can feel her chest warming up in response. “Unless you wanna do it all by yourself.”

“Nope.” She says, promptly, handing him another dirty spoon and he’s quick to resume what he was doing. Her eyes watch the way the water runs through his fingers, and oddly, she can’t help but find that amusing. “If you’re willing to help, who am I to say no, right?”

A giggle escapes her lips when she hears the ‘tch’ that escaped from his lips, and eventually, they fall in a comfortable silence that is only disturbed by the clanking of the dishes touching each other. Every now and then, their fingers brush when he hands her the plates, and though she can still feel the sparks, those simple touches are no longer enough to make her blush in embarrassment as they used to.

His touch is no longer a stranger to her skin. His presence and his warmth have long been registered by her subconscious, marking every cell of her body with his constant presence. It’s been over 5 springs since their childish love finally bloomed into a serious relationship, and by now, both Sasuke and Sakura have grown used to one another. It goes beyond carnal desires or any poor excuse for a casual company, for their hearts share a connection deeper than words could ever describe.

Blame it on the fact that they used to be good friends before or even fate itself, but it’s impossible to deny the fact that they’ve reached the apex of their young love-life, to the point where doing the dishes together feels wholesome in ways neither of them can explain. There’s a sense of domesticity and mutual understanding shared in between unspoken words, and perhaps, that’s why it works so well for them as a couple. Even if they’re very different people, with different routines and personalities, they make it work.

They have enough trust, love and companionship to last for a life-time.

And though that should be enough—hell, that should be more than enough— Sakura can’t help but feel that there’s still something missing.

Something she can’t quite pin-point, but something that makes perfect moments lose their magic, for she knows they just won’t last. Even now, as they’re doing the dishes and making small conversation about how the party went, deep inside, her heart is heavy because she knows that once those dishes are clean, it will all be over and she will be left alone in her apartment before midnight strikes.

No matter how hard she tries, their moments together have their life-spawn shortened by the common laws of the universe, for every time there’s that stupid parting moment in which they both have to go separate ways. It’s painful for her to watch him disappear in the distance, and even if he doesn’t really express it with words, she can see the light in his eyes fading whenever they have to say goodbye. It’s always a new ‘good night’ and never a constant ‘good morning’ for them, and after so long, she’s sick and tired of this.

Perhaps, it’s just her tired-self speaking too loud in her head or even the few drinks she had during the party, but tonight, she doesn’t want the world to stand between them. Tonight, Sakura will break the natural laws, not caring about the consequences of finally taking the next step.

It’s still her birthday, after all. That has to count for something.

Her heart is beating faster now that she has made up her mind, and she realizes that she’s shaking when she picks another fork from his hands. She’s swallowing dry, and if not for the make up in her face, she knows he would be able to see a crimson blush decorating her cheeks. It’s now or never, she thinks. And before she has the chance to talk herself out of it, Haruno Sakura decides to act.

“Uhm... Sasuke-kun.” She starts, her voice shaky as his name slips from her tongue. Clearly, she forgot to think about the proper way of actually saying what she wanted, choosing instead to improvise— something she’s never really been good at. “I was thinking... Why don’t you spend the night here? You don’t have to go home after this.”

“Don’t even think about going to sleep, Sakura. You’re not leaving all of this mess to me.”

“Oi, that’s not what I meant!” She scolded him, a pout taking over her expression. “Shannarou, I just don’t want you to go home all alone at such late hours. Besides, is it wrong for a girl to want to stay with her boyfriend for the night?”

“You pervert.” He smirks, earning an elbow to his ribs in response. For someone so small, it’s undeniable that his girlfriend has some sort of abnormal strength people like her shouldn’t possess.

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant either! I just... I just don’t want you to leave, that’s all.”

Her words come out a little too low, but high enough so that he can hear them. Her voice sounded an octave too-melancholic, and perhaps, that was what made him actually take her offer seriously. “Hn, I guess I could. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I can go home once when you leave for the hospital.”

“Really?” Sakura starts, a smile now threatening to take over her features. Though she still had to convey her real plan, that was already a win. A small one, but a win, nonetheless. “Well, you don’t have to leave that early if you don’t want to. You can just...stay. Maybe even wait for me to get home from the hospital and then we could eat dinner together.”

“What?” His eyes widen at her idea, and right now, she can’t really tell if his surprised expression is good or bad. “Aren’t you going to stay there until late tomorrow?”

“Well, probably, but you can stay here... is that a problem?”

”It’s not really a problem, but... I just don’t want to abuse your hospitality. It’s still your apartment, Sakura.” He scratches the back of his neck, and she could see that he was truly concerned about his manners. His mother has taught him how to be a gentleman, and even if she loves that about him, right now, she wishes he could let loose and just take her offer.

She bites her lower lip at his words, a puff of annoyance inflating her cheeks at his answer. Her boyfriend’s has never been good at reading her signs, and now, when not even she’s understanding them, the pinkette is starting to freak out.

Things are not going as planned— not that she actually planned anything to begin with. Her head is spiraling as she watches the snow-ball being created by her messy words, and slowly, she can feel her chance slipping through her fingers. If she doesn’t say it now, Sakura’s going to miss her opportunity, and who knows what’s going to happen to them. Will they break up? Will he think she’s not interested in a long-term commitment? Will they never do the dishes again?

No, she’s overthinking again. They have a solid relationship that has been built over the years and she’s not going to ruin it all in one night because she’s acting like a coward. She’s a modern, independent woman. A doctor, damn it. She has done a lot of things that were harder than asking her boyfriend to move in with her.

She can do it. She will do it.

“Sasuke-kun!” Her voice is determined now, her eyes filled with a different fire in them. This is it. No backing out now. “I need to ask you something important. It’s about our future together.”

“Okay... I’m listening.” He states, a little taken aback by her sudden burst. He stops what he’s doing, his dark irises now looking into her emerald ones. They’re holding a certain hope in them, and if anything, she was not expecting him to be paying that much attention to her. She’s feeling pressured by them, intimidated even. Her knees are shaking, her lips are trembling and her mind is suddenly blank.

She can’t do it. Nope. Not with those eyes staring into her soul.

“I-I... I...” Her heart is beating faster, and she feels like it will burst out of her chest any minute now. She’s going to faint, she can tell it.

“What is it, Sakura?”

“I-I...” She swallows, then, sighing as courage escapes her body. The pinkette has chickened out, finally opting for her ever-reliable plan B. “Naruto is an idiot, right?”

“... Yes.” He starts, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But what does that have to do with our future?”

“E-Everything! I mean, did you see how drunk he was tonight? Thank god Sai offered himself to take him home tonight, but we can rely on that forever. As his best friends, we have to do something about it. He lives far from both of us and we need a plan whenever we have a drinking night together.”

A moment of palpable tension grows between them, and right now, she’s sure he can hear her heart beating like crazy inside her chest. I’m an idiot, she thinks, holding back the urge to lower her head and cry. Sakura has just ruined everything, and right now, she’s going to have to pretend to actually care about where Naruto crashes when he’s drunk just so her boyfriend doesn’t think she’s completely crazy.

Ugh, those damn eyes of his. Why do they have to be so *freaking beautiful?

Thankfully, they can also read her like an open book.

“Hn, you’re right.” He says, finally breaking the silence that surrounded them. His voice is calm and understanding, as always, and she can feel her heart settling down at that. If anything, at least, his reaction isn’t bad or anything. “I guess we will have to have a spare room for him when we move in together.”

“Yeah, sure. A spare room when we—“ Her mind stops. Her hands freeze while holding the cloth and her green eyes widen. Her lips part slightly, but no word dares coming out of them.

Did he... Did he just say what she thinks he said?

She doesn’t know what kind of face she’s making right now, but if anything, she’s completely dumbfounded by his words. Sure, it’s not like he’s making a move tonight or anything, but he did say the words, right? Move in together. The three words she was trying so hard to get out of her chest, simply rolled out of his tongue as if it is the most logical thing in the world— and perhaps, it is. He says them in a way as if that decision won’t change their lives forever. As if it won’t affect their routine and the amount of food they have to buy at the grocery store.

It’s a decision that goes beyond a drawer filled with socks or an extra tooth-brush. And even if he sounds as calm as ever, she knows he’s aware of all that, because, if anything, Uchiha Sasuke doesn’t do anything based on impulse. He’s the kind of man who thinks things through and studies every possibility before making a decision.

So that means...

“Sasuke-kun... Are you suggesting that we move in together?”

“Aa.” He nods, no hesitation in his voice. “Weren’t you trying to say the same?”

“I-I... I was?” She says, sounding more like a question, to which he simply quirks an eyebrow in inquiry. If anything, that was not the moment for doubts anymore. “I mean, yes! That was exactly what I was trying to say.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“Is it? Really?” She asks, hope now running through her veins and lighting up her entire system.

“Yes. It’s only natural for people like us, right?”

“Yeah...” He cheeks grow warmer, and her chest suddenly feels lighter. At last, he took the words out of her. “It’s settled, then.”

At last, their days of saying goodbye are counted and now they can enjoy each other from dawn to dusk.

A smile slowly makes its way to her eyes, and she can’t help but switch her attention to him. Sasuke is now looking at her, a soft expression taking over his face. She’s bewildered right now as she looks at the man who will be living with her. Totally and completely marveled, and more in love with him than she has ever been before in her life.

He understands her unsaid words and they share similar ideas regarding their past, present and future.

They are in love, and now, they’re ready to share the same roof above their pretty, little heads.

“You’re still staying with me tonight, right?”

“Tch.You really are a pervert, Sakura.”

He splashes her face with some water from the sink and her giggles fill her kitchen with joy. They’re young and in love, and for now, that’s all they need to take the next step towards their future together.

the end

#Sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #Sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fic #myssfics

[flowerwrites06]

blossoms and blood finale — jjk

Plot: Two lovers are ripped apart in the name of duty.

Pairing(s): Prince/King!Jungkook x Princess/Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: violence, angst, explicit smut, blood

Authors Note: I know a couple of you wanted this so I hope you like!

Pungent scent of medicated potions lingered in the air of the Queens’ bedroom as it now transformed itself into a makeshift home clinic. The royal physician Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed while Jungkook lay on the soft surface, half conscious. White cloth pressed against the males’ forehead, sweat beads gathered around his temples. Every breath he took trembled as light whines emitted at each weak heave.

Belle stood near one of the pillars of her bed, concern twisting her features even though she tried her to keep her composure. As far as everyone was concerned, she still had an arranged marriage with Hoseok. So an air of calmness had to stretch across her face.

Taehyung hooked a fingers on the bandage, letting a light sigh as he did. A patch of red soak through the bandage already. “It’s a surface wound. They will heal in a week or two.” He turned to face the Queen, hands placed on his lap.

“Thank you, Taehyung.” Belle crossed her arms over her chest. Scrubbing sounds made her ears prick up. The maids spend most of the morning getting rid of the blood stains on the floor. “I expected to have enemies…” Her tone rung solemn.

“It’s the side effect of bringing a lot of people together. Powerful but often prone to differences.” Taehyung answered in a plain tone as he packed his things back into his satchel. A few glasses clinked inside of it while he hung it gently over his shoulder. “Let me know if there are any abnormal changes.”

Her eyes were still fixated on Jungkook. How his chest rose and fell, a film of sweat covering his body all the while his features contorting. Anything but a peaceful sleep. Quickly Belle met Taehyungs’ gaze and nodded. “Yes of course.”

The physician padded closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself too much, Your Majesty. King Jungkook is known for surviving many battles. This is but a scratch.”

A scratch she should have received. Not him. Belle stayed silent and gave him a faint smile before he walked out of the room.

Minutes later, the maids also bowed down and excused themselves from her chambers as the room now had a faint flowery smell from the cleaning supplies. Apparently a few people had been concocting liquid that gave off a more pleasant smell after cleaning rather than the rancid one she remembered as a child.

Silence overcame the room as Belle was left to watch Jungkook struggling to keep still from the troubles in his weary mind. She knew the male had always been prone to dreadful nightmares considering the amount of battles he fought in from a young age. Fingers itched to comfort him. A more sensible part of her yelled not to dive too deep into this weakening state. But the part that wished she took the hit instead of him spoke a different story. She padded closer to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Pulling the wet cloth away from his forehead, Belle dipped it back into the basin of water placed on the nightstand. She lifted the heavy piece and squeezed out the excess before carefully resting it back on his warm head. Taehyung left the tray of simple tools over next to the bed. Grabbing another cloth the woman softly patted away the film of sweat on his bare torso.

She could still make out the faint traces of scars from previous battles. One stab wound right in the middle, the faint camel toned mark leftover. Scratch marks from a war tiger on his chest looking far less threatening than she recalled. Belle could still see how proud he looked having a mark of a glorious creature on his skin as if it were a sign of good luck. Then the newest addition. Bandaged and slightly soaking through with fresh blood.

Even to this day, Jungkook took a terrible wound somehow and still breathed. Taehyung wasn’t wrong in saying that he suffered far worse than this but the tug in her belly never changed. She still had to look at him in this manner. Breathing uneven and a pained expression across the features she loved so much.

Then Belle’s gaze caught something glimmering around Jungkooks’ neck. A plain silver necklace wrapped around his neck a little too tightly. Gently she pulled at the chain to fix it up and felt a larger object dangling from it just behind his jawline. Brows furrowed, Belle carefully brought the pendant back to the front of his chest and her heart skipped a few beats.

Breath caught in her throat as her shaking thumb brushed over the blossom design. It still shone so bright after all these years, capturing a simplistic beauty of a shy warriors’ gesture of love. Thick tears flooded at the brim of her eyes. The last time she saw this it had been drowning in a puddle of her mothers’ blood. Now as if a ghost of the past came back to haunt her, she had the ring in her hand. Reminding her of just that. It was the past.

Something she could never fix. The only she could fix was the future.

Belle looked over at Jungkooks’ half-conscious form, lips trembling. “You have to wake up for me.” She whispered, caressing his glowing cheek. “You have to be okay.” Tears trickled down her face as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

The door clicked open. “Your Majesty?” Seokjins’ voice rung through the room.

Belle hurriedly wiped away the wetness from her cheeks and took a deep breath. Standing up from the bed, she clasped her fingers together, standing as professionally as she could. “Yes?”

Seokjin stood near the door, glancing over at Jungkooks’ form before looking at her again. “I have some important news.”

She looked over her shoulder for a moment checking if the male didn’t change in his demeanor. “Okay.” Belle addressed walking out of the room despite feeling utterly disquiet about leaving Jungkook alone.

-

Leaving a small crack in the door, Belle turned to face the Prince with as much as of a calm expression as she could muster. Although her eyes were still reddened and her posture a little deflated. “What kind of news?” She continued the conversation in a small voice so it would not echo too much against the walls of the hallway.

Seokjin glanced over his shoulder at the four guards now stationed near the Queens’ chambers. Their expression blank as per usual but they both knew their ears now stood sharper than ever for any strange sign. Facing Belle again, he spoke under his breath. “I started asking around about the incident and what might have allowed the assailant to get this far into your chambers.”

Curiosity piqued, she straightened up. “And?”

“A few servants…” He side glanced possibly at the guards once again. “They saw King Hoseok conversing with the guards and handing them a jug of something. The guards that were supposed to posted last night were found unconscious.”

Belle took a deep breath feeling a rush of heat burst through her body hearing that name. She wanted to be extremely shocked by the whole ordeal but admittedly Hoseok had been welcomed with open arms to cause whatever secret havoc he needed to. Of course he’d take it in a heartbeat. “Was the assailant one of his men?”

“Well, no...” Seokjin leaned on the wall beside him. “…he was one of ours.”

The Queen averted her gaze, hardly any shock spread across her features. “Not really ours, was he?” Not everyone could be elated about her taking over all those kingdoms. Last night now became a painful reminder of that notion.

Seokjin sighed. “There’s one other thing.” His voice rung lower. “While the scene was being investigated they found a potion spilled on the floor. I asked for them to get a sample.”

Belle could vaguely remember the assailant holding something over her but the events just after waking up replayed in a fuzzy manner. “What was it?”

“According to the potions master, it’s an elixir to get douse someone’s willpower. For a small amount of hours of course.” He lifted a shoulder.

“Long enough to sign any contract.”

“Or make any public announcement that he wants you to make.”

The more evidence came to light, the more Belle knew Hoseok was not a man of change if it meant he needed to change. It only became relevant when things were moving his way. Poor traits of a King but also fooled when turned around, she thought.

“Should we organize an arrest?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Seokjins’ brows furrowed searching her expression. On a normal day, an execution or exile would have been organized at most but he noticed a rare glint in her eye. “What did you want to do?”

Belle met the Princes’ eyes. “King Hoseok isn’t fully aware of the aftermath, I’m assuming.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Perhaps we can deal with this situation on more familiar grounds to the Sun King.” Chin raised, the glint in her gaze became clearer now. A sense of mischief and manipulation for the traitor King. Any monarch with a strong will to do his bidding loved hearing things that benefit him somehow. Even if it was a bold-faced lie.

The Prince couldn’t help but have a tiny smile tug at his pillowy lips. “I’m sure that can arranged, Your Majesty.”

She nodded. “Good.”

-

Large mat laid out on the grounds of the royal garden, dark mahogany floor table placed in the middle as Queen Belle sat on one side and Sun King Hoseok on the other. Colorful rice cakes centering the two cups of auburn tinted tea, light wafts of steam still flowing up from it. The maid neatened up Belle’s dress train around her for comfort. Golden dress with meshed sleeves adorned in rich floral patterns and pink flowers around the borders of her straight neckline. Colours of the Queens’ dress contrasted beautifully amongst the pinks and purples of the garden and matched pleasantly with Hoseok sky blue ensemble.

From afar they may have looked like the perfect royal couple despite the light twinge of disgust at the back of Belle’s mind, knowing just what kind of a person she was betrothed to. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard. There was an attack in the palace last night.”

Hoseok had been taking a careful sip of tea when she spoke. He hummed in response, placing the tea back onto the table before nodding. “I did hear King Jungkook got injured. Has he been recovering well?” The man was talented in playing the saint. Every conqueror had to, after all, try to convince everyone that what they were doing was good hearted to prevent any revolution.

“He is. It’s a surface wound so he’ll be ready for trial.” Belle picked her cup, blowing onto it gently before taking a small sip only enough to disappear on her tongue and barely reach her throat.

“Trial?” His brows furrowed.

“Well a few servants saw him wandering around the hallways during the attack. It’s a classic move.” Belle took one of the smaller rice cakes and bit into it carefully.

Hoseok searched the Queens’ expression with an air of interest, leaves rustling a little against the day breeze. “You think maybe he tried to plant himself as an innocent bystander?” He stated rather than asked. Truthfully he never expected her to blame him so easily but it was understandable considering their dark history.

“Of course he did.” She placed the half bitten rice cake back on her plate. “Sending a servant to do his dirty work was already in poor taste as it were.”

The corner of his lip twitched as he tried to keep a neutral face while the Queen insulted his tactics. No, Jungkooks’ tactics. “That’s true.” Hoseok spoke through a slightly tightened jaw. “Usually professional assassins are chimed in for those situations.”

“Right.” Belle smiled. “If you ever think of assassinating me during our marriage, please do send your best.” She mused.

Hoseok let out an almost forced chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway he’ll be held on trial as soon as he’s awake. Then that kingdom is as good as ours.” A bright grin graced the Queens’ features.

“I can see why you’re the most feared Queen in our land.” Hoseok chuckled.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What fun is life without a little fear, yes?”

Belle hummed in agreement.

-

Candles lit to welcome the night. Another fresh bandage now wrapped around Jungkooks’ shoulder. Belle had a significant rush of relief watching the male breath in calm patterns with his face relaxed from any nightmare induced contorts. He looked relieved from pain. She stood near her vanity as one maid folded up some used clothes and stuffed them into the hamper.

Her hair now completely open from any pins, she could finally let the tightening headache pass from the release. Fluffing through the locks the Queen turned to smile at the maid as she bowed and walked out of the room with the hamper rested on her hip.

Once the door closed, Belle relaxed in the comforting silence of her bed chambers for the night as she sat on the empty side of her bed.

During the early years of her reign she remembered breaking down on the floor. When all the eyes were off her and the young Queen was left to her lonesome, dark thoughts and painful memories sunk right into her very core. It overwhelmed every vein and limb to a point where a maid sometimes found Belle sleeping on the floor. Namjoon caught her in that state more times that she would like to admit. He would immediately carry her back to bed without speaking of it again for her comfort.

Recalling that vulnerable version of herself in the past, Belle felt a slight twinge of accomplishment that she could sit in her chambers with pride. Not grief or heartbreak.

Except one thing had been left unresolved as of late. She turned to see Jungkook stirring, a long drawling sigh passing through his nose. Belle shifted closer as her hand caressed his forehead to help him relax. She pushed back his long locks watching him slowly flicker his eyes open.

Vision blurred as Jungkook finally stirred awake, the room slowly materializing around him. He relished in a familiar warm touch on his forehead causing a hum under his breath. When his gaze turned over to the side, he felt an immediate rush of comfort seeing Belle’s face. For so long the man had been dreaming of waking up to see her every morning only to find an empty space beside him.

Now every piece of his damaged body and mind calmed as if a long held wish came true. “You’re here.” Jungkook whispered in a rasp, clearing his dried throat.

Belle smiled before nodding. “I’m here.”

With a light grunt, the male tried to push himself up before a hot flash of pain caused him to drop down again. “Shit.” He hissed.

Belle placed a hand at back of his neck, helping him lift up gently before adjusting the pillows so he could sit up comfortably. His back now rested on against the soft headboard. She reached out to the nightstand and grabbed a cup of water.

Jungkooks’ eyes partially closed as his body tingled, getting used to the new position after lying down for who knows how long. A few seconds passed and he felt something cold touch his lips.

“It’s water.”

The word immediately caused his parched lips to part. Refreshing, cool liquid gracing his tongue and dampening his throat while the heaviness in his head slowly lightened. A light hum emitted from under Jungkook’s breath as he swallowed down the nourishment. Even as the cup emptied, he kept suckling on for more.

Pulling the cup away, she gave him a faint smile. “I’ll get some more.” Before Belle could climb out of the bed however Jungkook quickly used his good arm to hold onto hers.

“Stay. Please.” He let out a relaxed sigh, mind clearing in almost minutes.

The Queen looked at the male over her shoulder before nodding. She placed the cup back onto the nightstand and sat next to him, body facing him completely. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just got slashed on the chest with a sword.” Jungkook chuckled weakly. Licking his lips, his gaze fixated on the woman before memories of last night began sinking in. “Are you hurt?” Instinctively, he reached out to touch her hand. Thought of consequences seemed to bury itself somewhere deep under his weak state.

Belle shook her head with a reassuring smile. “Thanks to you.” She gulped down. “You didn’t have to do that though.”

“No one has to risk their life for someone.” His lips curled up. “But I’ll always want to for you.”

“That’s not comforting.” She frowned. “How did you think I was going to feel if you died protecting me?” Belle’s brows furrowed as the freshly lingering memories of last nights’ events now burst in harsh colours around them. She could almost still feel his blood between her fingers as it soaked through her robe.

“Belle…” He whispered, the grip on her hand tightening. “It’s what I do. I’m a soldier, remember?”

“You’re not just a solider and you know that.” Her voice cracked heavier at every word, eyes growing glossy. “You’re a King, all those people are looking up to you.” She nodded towards the door. “You can’t just come back to me after so long and then leave me alone again, it hurts.” Belle hung her head, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. She never thought after all these years, seeing Jungkook hurt brought her the same deep sorrow it always did. “The last thing I said to you was I don’t love you.”

Jungkook blinked slowly, lips twitching a little. “I know.” He whispered.

Belle let out a shaky sigh, eyes flickered up to meet his glossy gaze. “I-I didn’t mean—” She shook her head looking down at their hands connected. Caressing the top of his hand, she brought it up to her cheek. Warmth from his palm radiated to her skin.

He felt a rush of comfort touching her again. The distant broken visions of their past now hitting him like a bag of rocks to his chest. It’s been so long. Too long. How he survived without her touch for so many years. Unable to bear the distance, Jungkook leaned in, nose nudging on hers affectionately.

Heart raced out of her ribcages as her free hand came up to softly caress the side of his neck. Belle slid closer until their lips brushed. Thick heat tingled through her limbs feeling those familiar lips again.

As soon as their twin flesh touched, Jungkook took her bottom lip and suckled lightly. The faintest tinge of sweet berry still lingering on it intoxicating him further than he already was. A buzz swirled around his head. He wound his good arm around her waist, pulling her close against his body.

Hum emitting under her breath, Belle shifted as he held her, one leg swinging over so she straddled him. She felt his tongue slip through her teeth. Jaw slacked, she let him explore her mouth while her soft dress rode up, exposing her thighs.

Jungkooks’ hand snuck under the hem of her dress, nails grazing down the soft skin causing a tingle down Belle’s spine. Further and further he moved until he reached the swell of her ass. Instinctively, he kneaded the bouncy flesh.

Feeling the firm squeeze, Belle swayed her hips against his feeling something hardening between his legs. She felt the males’ grip tighten at every grind.

Jungkook broke the kiss moving his flushed lips down to her jawline. A flowery scent from the day lurked from the back of her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. His hands continued to push her dress up until the long skirt bunched at her waist. Her whole lower body now left exposed while she rubbed against his growing tent.

The more Belle grinded her bare core against the bulge, the more she could wetness soaking the thin fabric. Sloppy sounds slowly floating in the thickening air of long suppressed pleasure. A light moan croaked from her throat when she brushed onto a particular sensitive spot.

Pausing his small kisses, the male stared up at the beauty watching her features twist elegantly as she relished in the tiny waves of ecstasy passing through her. Jungkook could come undone just staring at that tiny smile appearing whenever Belle felt the right surge. Fingers dug into her hips, guiding them back and forth until his pants were practically drenched with both their arousals.

Belle met his hazy eyes, brushing their noses again before locking their lips into another heated kiss. Tongue almost immediately danced together as her hips grew relentless in its movements. She felt bundled area of heat collecting around her lower belly and shivering through her thighs causing a drawling hum to vibrate into the kiss. “I want you.” She mumbled breathily, their lips still barely connected.

Lightly groaning from the constricted heat around his crotch, Jungkook latched one of his hands off her hips and fumbled with his pants. He pushed it down far enough down to his knees before shifting it to his ankles and kicking it aside. His length now sprung free already twitching as if it could sense her heat.

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, lightly squeezing.

Jungkook hissed lightly as his other hand scratched down her thigh. He pulled at the hem of her dress over her head and threw it to the side. Wrapping both his arms around her waist, he dipped down to suckle on one of her nipples.

Belle threw her head back relishing the light tickles of pleasure from his tongue flicking at her erect nubs. She looked down at him pressing wet kisses on the valley of her breasts before traveling up to her neck. Affectionately, her fingers brushed through his cold hair. Her hips jerked a little feeling his teeth sink into the sweet spot of her neck, sucking until it made her head spin around in circles.

Impatience slowly creeping in, Belle raised herself a little causing Jungkook to softly detach from her neck and watch her ministrations. She positioned her dripping heat at the tip of his length carefully sinking down. A burning tinge of pain and mix of pleasure concocted in the bubbling reactions of her body.

He couldn’t help the deep groan vibrating in his throat when he felt her snug walls wrapped firmly around his cock to the point of near suffocation. If she moved too quick, Jungkook could have embarrassingly spurted in seconds. Nails dented the skin of her hips as his dark orbs watched his Queen adjust to his size. His whole body shivered a little seeing himself disappeared completely inside her.

Belle could feel the tip of his cock shyly brushing against her sweet spot causing a thick waft of pleasure to shoot through her. The ache from her stretched walls subsided, drowning in her desperate need to feel him again. She began with slow thrusts, grinding up and down to let the tip tease her spot at every move. One hand cupped at the back of his neck while the other gripped at his inner thigh. Hair curled over her face as the heat curdled around her lower belly, exuding through her skin in a light film of sweat.

Jungkook admired her little movements in awe, eyes near pitch black from lust. The deep friction from the patterned swaying caused his breathing to lose all control. Sounds of her cunt getting drenched by the second, squelching a little as she ground their hips together. Looking down, he saw the skin of his cock glistening more and more as she moved.

She bent her knees, pressing her feet against the soft bed as Jungkook wrapped an arm around her waist. Writhing bodies now stuck together, Belle gripped onto one of the ridges of the headboard to keep some of her balance. With an almost dizzying ease she began bouncing up and down his length. The new position allowed for stronger pressure on that tingling spot inside her while her clit rubbed against Jungkooks’ lower belly.

Sweaty skin burned a little as it rubbed against each other thrust after thrust. Slapping sounds echoed across the sin scented room. Belle’s wavy hair bounced along with her, lips parted and eyes closed, practically drowning in the thickening pleasure.

“I missed you so much.” Jungkook breathed out before biting down her collarbone to suppress a much louder groan.

Belle let out a shaky whimper, the pressure of her orgasm hurdling and his words creating a deadly mixture of emotions to bubble inside her. Tears gathered at the corners of the womans’ eyes. “I missed you too.” Lips quivered slightly as she moved legs as her feet rested on his thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she quickened her pace up and down his member.

Trembling breaths passed through Jungkooks’ lips as he caressed the swell of her ass, nibbling on her earlobe. He felt the coil in his lower belly tightening beyond his own control. Arousal splattered all over their thighs from the relentless thrusts.

In a harsh sudden wave, her limbs locked as the pleasure shot through her shaking body. Arms grabbing onto him for dear life. Belle kept on with her sloppy thrusts despite her hips jerking at every contact against her sensitive clit.

Her walls clenched around him so tightly, it made his own orgasm burst out of him. Ropes of cum filling the beauty up to the brim until he could feel more wetness dripping down to his thighs. Body twitched as they held onto each other, catching their breath and letting their hot bursts switch to a serene bliss.

Cleaning themselves up with a washcloth, the couple lay down peacefully next to each other. Belle’s head rested on his chest tracing the stab scar on his torso. As the swimming feeling in her mind began to settle down back to reality, she was reminded of the responsibilities that needed to be taken care of tomorrow. “I know who did it.” She broke the calm silence.

Jungkook stared down at the woman, fingers still absentmindedly brushing through her hair. “Dare I even ask?” Sarcasm oozed in every word hardly needing any explanation as to who might have wanted Belle harmed. He let out a small sigh. “What’re you going to do?”

“There’s a small plan. I’m not completely proud of it but he’s already into it.” Belle looked up to meet the males’ gaze. “Except I might need your help.”

His brows furrowed. “What kind of help?”

-

In the early hours of the morning as the greyish horizon sported a golden lining, Queen Belle’s council along with the Sun King and his guards gathered in the main throne room.

Belle adorned a slightly casual dress with soft tones of blue and green. She sat on her throne with a calm demeanor as per usual even in situations that welcomed a great deal of stress both politically and personally. Sun King stood on her right holding a small smile either by habit or he simply dove headfirst into her little play.

The council and guests then quietened down to a pin drop silence watching the Queen in anticipation. “This trial has been held to try the one responsible for organizing an attempt of assassination during peace holdings.” Belle announced.

Double doors opened with a light thud followed by armors from the guards clanging as they made their way in. Jungkook positioned at the center keeping one arm bent and hand placed on his torso. He walked and halted a little in front of Belle.

Hoseok watched him with that same smirk growing the tiniest bit. The sense of accomplishment exuded from him a little too clearly.

Though at the same time, Jungkooks’ lips curled into a faint smile as he bowed down keeping a fixated gaze on his Queen. The slight darkness in his eyes hinted what he was thinking about causing a slight tingle down her spine. Turning on his heel, the male stood over next to Seokjin casually.

Her light smirk then faded into a more professional expression. “King Hoseok…” Belle spoke calmly. “Please make your way to the center for your trial.”

The council once again turned deathly silent, eyes turning to the Sun King. This kingdom had been no stranger to having Kings or Queens standing for their crimes and being punished accordingly. Hoseok simply entangled himself into a long running tradition of intolerance for abusing power.

Belle noticed Hoseok trying to look around the room to see if anyone else was as confused as he was but his search failed in seconds.

Hoseok scoffed lightly, keeping a close eye on his men peeking through some members of the council. He noticed their hands tightly wound around the hilt of their swords. The action gave him a slight ounce of reassurance. Walking to the center of the throne room, a small smile played on the Sun Kings’ lips. “I assume there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

Belle shrugged briefly. “You tell me. Evidence came to light that you were conversing with the guards outside my door, providing them with a jug which they were then found unconscious with the next day.” She restated the information written out to her before this trial. The woman decided to keep the witnesses anonymous to prevent any bloodshed only to keep a secret.

“I was attempting to test your guards’ ability to stay at their post.” He explained with an expert sense of casual tone. “Clearly they failed.”

“Your diligence as the possible future King of this empire is appreciated.” Belle nodded in acknowledgement. “However the assailant was also found with a potion known to strip anyone of their willpower.” Her gaze narrowed. “Who might want me to lose my willpower? So close to our wedding.”

“The loss of your willpower can benefit anyone, Your Majesty.” Hoseok shook his head, struggling to keep his smile together.

“Yet conveniently this servant was last seen talking to you.” Belle smiled.

Hoseok stayed silent this time. All the explanations that seemed to be smoothly rushing through his mind now halted all of a sudden. Every piece of evidence now lay exposed in front of everyone to hear. The staggering grin on his face made it all too obvious that the all-powerful Sun King had been cornered.

She leaned in and rested her elbows on the table. “See this is the difference between you and me. You inherited your empire from your mother. I built mine.” Belle explained in a lower tone but it still echoed in everyones’ ears. “And I most certainly didn’t do it by being an inattentive fool.”

One of Hoseoks’ guards screamed sheathing his sword alerting all his other men to do the same but Belle merely gestured. All her soldiers overwhelmed the small crowd, choking and sounds of slashing swords echoing across the room. Armor clanged to the ground along with the unconscious bodies now filling them causing Belle’s council members to move to the side. Some of them murmured to themselves but otherwise used to the sight of proud citizens trying to protect their problematic Kings because of duty.

Hoseok glared at the Queen after seeing his men limp on the ground. The intention to keep a fake smile now completely dissipated. “Killing me will only heighten your enemy count.”

“Which is why I have no intention in killing you or those men. If you listen.” Lips curled up into a small smirk. “I don’t want war…but I also don’t tolerate kings who don’t quite understand who they’re dealing with. Though I understand my small and pretty demeanor may sway delusional fools into thinking too loosely.” Her brow raised. “You will ride back to your kingdoms and we’ll continue on as silent neighbors…or I can kill you right now and take your lands. It’s easy for me and your people either way.” She leaned back on the chair. “Your choice.”

Hoseok swallowed down, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re good, Your Majesty.” He licked his teeth. Glancing around the room, the Sun King bowed down with a light bitter taste on his tongue as he did so. “I will take my leave. Let’s never meet again.”

“Lets.” Belle lightly scrunched her nose, a proud smile adorning her features as the Sun King finally walked away from her and Jungkooks’ life.

-

Belle and Jungkook stood at the main palace balcony watching the chariots of the Sun King ride out of their gates. Sun rose out from the mountains giving the kingdom a new refreshed golden glow to welcome the new day. When she saw the chariots finally disappear and the gates close with a piercing thud, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I’m starting to like this new side of you.” Jungkook leaned to her side, closer to her ear.

“When I’m threatening to kill people?” Belle chuckled lightly.

“Not exactly that but it’s exciting to look at.” He grinned, shoulders brushing against each other gently.

When the light chuckles between the couple died down, Jungkook hung his head in thought for a moment. “I’ll step down from my throne.” He muttered. “I might be good at protecting people but you’re better at protecting kingdoms.” He nodded towards the closed gates. Belle knew how to communicate in politics. To Kings and Queens. She made him realize how many sides of a person it takes to make a monarch.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter with you.” Belle shook her head, keeping her gaze on her people beginning their days. “You’re going to be King eventually anyway.”

Jungkook eyed the woman curiously, brows furrowed.

Belle met his confused gaze with an innocent expression. “Unless your previous offer isn’t on the table anymore.” She gave him a cheeky smirk.

A bright grin slowly faded across Jungkooks’ features as his heart burst into a fit of joy. He grabbed onto her hips, pressing her body close to his making her giggle lightly. “It always was.”

Belles’ eyes flickered down to his chest, the thing silver string glimmering on the sides of his neck.

Jungkook followed the womans’ gaze down immediately understanding what she was looking at. He reached behind his neck and unclasped the necklace. It coiled on his open palm as he pulled out the ring pendant.

Stuffing the chain into one of his pockets, he held one of her hands up and slid the piece onto her ring finger. Another beautiful burst of memory spread through him reliving this moment again after so many years. He brought her ringed hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss.

“This time, no more leaving.” Belle whispered, staring up at the male.

“No more.” Jungkook pressed his forehead against hers.

After what felt like an eternity of distance and dread, they could finally feel like their kingdoms were home again. Their own shared home just like they always wanted.

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