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booksforevermore13 · 3 years

Text

I know now

Summary: Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

Read it on AO3 if you prefer.

...

"I learnt about fishes today." Harry heard Lily's voice and turned to look at her.

A smile tugged at his lips as he saw the small, though hazy figure of his daughter by the edge of the bed, red hair bundled on her head in an angry halo as she tugged her dress further down her knees.

One hand reached out beside him to find his glasses, flailing around when he felt a pair being gently put over his eyes. Harry kissed Lily's hands, brushing his beard against her palm and smiling as she giggled.

"Now, about the fishes," he started as Lily climbed up on the bed and crawled onto his stomach, Harry holding her by her side to keep her steady.

"I saw a movie today," she said, "about Dory. And Nemo. But I liked Dory the best," and Harry nodded, though he hadn't the slightest idea what she was saying. "Dory is blue in colour and she has yellow fins, like the yellow of the sun and she can breathe in water and make whale sounds, like this." She oohed and Harry laughed as she oohed until she lost her breath.

"Dory sounds good," he said seriously, lips set in a half-smile.

"I think she's really pretty. Even prettier than Mummy."

"Then I bet she's good."

"Mummy said so too. She said I was right."

Lily smiled triumphantly, and Harry smiled back, gently stroking her hair out of her bun. Lily hated her hair like that, but at three, it had grown past her shoulders, and Ginny had resorted to tying it every morning before school.

Lily didn't like that either.

"Daddy," she called now and Harry's eyes left her hair and settled on her.

"Hmm?"

"Can you make me Dory?"

"Make you - wait, what?"

Lily looked expectantly at him and he stared blankly back at her as he fumbled with what she said.

"Dory's a fish, Lils," he said after a while. "I don't think anyone can be Dory."

"But you can do anything," she protested. "And Mummy always says anyone can be anything they want."

And that was what Lily asked. Never an extra side of ice-cream or a piece of fudge in the middle of the night. A few months back, she'd asked him to turn her into a tiger. The month after, she'd wanted to be a princess. He'd agreed gladly to that, before she'd proposed he turn into a frog so that she could kiss him and he'd turn into a prince.

Now, it was Dory, the blue fish.

It seemed as if she took Ginny's advice most literally.

He was tempted to turn her down, at least the logical part of him did, but then he looked at her and saw the way she was staring at him, with that hopeful glint in her eyes and almost immediately knew she'd won.

She always did.

It wasn't a surprise when an hour later, when they looked into the mirror, they met with a disgruntled orange dad carrying his elated blue daughter, yet, both of them happy.

Dory and Nemo indeed.

...

"Think you can catch up, old man?" Lily said as she took off after the Snitch, her hair flying behind her, like her mother's had, years before. Harry watched with a smile as she flipped her broom in the air, hands steady as she shot off again in typical Weasley fashion. He had to warn her about that, but part of him — the part that defended his children from his wife after a poorly executed prank — knew she had it handled.

It was only after James had hollered at him to get moving, did he realize that he had to catch the Snitch too. "Sorry," he yelled as he took off behind Lily, searching for that familiar golden glint of light he'd gotten used to over the years before realising there wasn't any to follow.

He slowed down. A Wronski Feint, she'd been attempting and almost succeeded in pulling off.

She'd almost got him.

Almost.

"Why are you slowing down?" James yelled from his Keeper post as he dashed to block a Quaffle. Instead of kicking it away from him, he caught it, turned around and put it through the hoop.

Cheating it was, him playing Keeper and Chaser at the same time, but there were only four players, and his children were set on making it as realistic as possible.

Harry only smiled knowingly at James, the Dad-smile, the one that his children hated, before he heard Lily yell and took a sharp turn to face her.

She was holding something, something small and grinning widely and as Harry squinted, he saw a golden object in her fist, wings folded as it struggled against her grasp, a futile attempt to get out, as every Seeker knew.

"Wha—"

"Yes, Lily!" Albus yelled, before he even had a second to register his disbelief. He whooped and stuck out his tongue at James. "Take that, you oaf!"

"Oh, shut up," James muttered as his glare turned to Harry. "I swear Dad, if you took it easy on her—"

"I didn't!" Harry defended. "There - I thought - there wasn't any Snitch when I followed her!"

"What's she holding now, a trumpet?"

"Yeah I transfigured it into a Snitch," Lily said sarcastically from behind Harry and he could hear the distinct flutter of a Snitch caught. "Look around, you'll probably see the real one behind your shoulder.

Albus was laughing hysterically on his broom while they fought and Harry had a distinct feeling that there was something else going on between them three. He watched them for a few seconds, before turning to Lily.

"How did you do that?" he asked her, glancing yet again at the Snitch in her hand.

Lily shrugged, an arrogant smirk plastered on her face as her eyes gleamed with what he knew was glee. A smile made his way on his face as he took in her stance, one he'd seen many times before.

James yelled behind him, breaking through his reverie and Harry turned around, just barely catching him pass over a coin to his brother.

"You had bets?" he asked incredulously and Albus slipped the coin in his pocket with a sheepish grin.

"I thought that was obvious," Lily said flippantly from behind him and Harry frowned.

"What were you betting on?"

"Which of you'd catch the snitch first," James said, "thanks Dad. Really appreciate it."

"Your welcome," Lily piped in again and James glared at her. "What?" she defended, "everyone here knows I'm the only one here who can beat him."

"Bollocks."

"Yeah?" Lily mocked and Harry chuckled as he watched James rise up to the challenge, not long before they were yelling at each other, mostly led by James and Lily with the occasional comment from Albus that fuelled their entire brawl.

It'd take their mother to make them stop.

He laughed out loud when he saw Ginny walk outside with a chocolate covered spatula and brandish it at the three of them as she yelled something he couldn't hear.

He had been right.

Harry flew towards the ground, landing on his feet a few metres away from his wife. He smiled as he saw her turn to face him.

"Lily caught it," he announced, entirely unaware of himself and watched as Ginny smiled in amusement and turned away from him.

"Didn't expect that, did you?"

"Absolutely not."

They walked into the house, Ginny heading towards the kitchen and Harry following her. He watched her for a while as she bustled about, taking out the eggs from the fridge and flour from the cabinet, attempting to open the sugar with one hand before Harry did it for her.

"Where are they?" he asked after a second, noting the absence of his children hovering around the kitchen.

"The boys are upstairs," Ginny stated, "Lils said she'll be at Luna's. Said she had some work."

"Work?"

"Yes, well, we both know what work she actually has."

Ginny looked up at him, grinning. First year off at Hogwarts and Lily had stepped out the train with her three newly indicted friends, two of them being her cousins. The Marauders, they called themselves. The two years that had followed, they'd only grown closer, choosing to spend all their time together, Luna's house being their place.

Mostly because she never interfered.

Harry had only grown to notice the striking similarity they had to the original four.

"It's an acquired name, but I don't think they'll mind," Ginny said softly and Harry laughed, recognizing the words Lily had said the day she'd come back from Hogwarts.

"They won't," he agreed. "They'd be proud, actually."

He dipped one finger in the batter, laughing as Ginny swatted it off.

"Are you upset?" she teased as she continued mixing the batter with her spatula.

"About what?"

"Third time this week you couldn't catch the snitch" she pointed out and Harry laughed.

Five years ago, he'd been the one teaching Lily how to catch a snitch. How the roles had reversed.

"She's clever, I'll give you that," Harry said. "Though I can't fathom how she managed to hide the Snitch from me."

"She didn't," Ginny said with a smile. "I thought you of all people wouldn't fall for that."

"What do you mean?"

Harry waited for her answer but then frowned as he saw her smile fall.

"Nothing," she replied finally and sighed. "One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He didn't know what Ginny was hinting at. It had become obvious over the months that he was struggling, reaching out to Lily. At fourteen, it seemed whatever he said, it wasn't enough to understand her. His own daughter was a mystery to him, and sometimes he envied Ron for the easy understanding he had with Rose.

"I don't get it," Harry muttered as he slipped her hands around Ginny's waist, bringing her back closer to his chest. He bent forward, pressing his lips below her ear and Ginny smiled sadly.

"I hope you don't mind getting flour on that shirt."

Harry didn't answer, and Ginny arched her neck to look at him. "You're going to tell me what you're thinking?" she asked, and he smiled down at her as he saw her eyes shrouded with concern. Even after all these years, she knew exactly what he was feeling, every time.

He shook his head and Ginny turned around, Harry's arms still around her.

"I don't know her anymore," he admitted. "Not like-not like I did back then." He sighed. "I don't think I even know what her favourite colour is now," he said, looking down at his wife.

"It's still green, I can tell you. Green like the forest—"

"After the rain," Harry finished and laughed.

He remembered when Lily had said that for the first time. She was three, her biggest fascination then, being his eyes. He remembered how she had begged him one day to change her brown eyes to his green, and he'd wondered why. Her eyes were the most exquisite ones he'd seen, exactly like her mother's, but apparently, the three year old thought differently. He'd taken her to the forest the next day and told her to choose a leaf, any leaf so that he could transfigure it to something she'd be able to keep with her always. He'd not expected her to choose the entire forest, and Harry had simply smiled then at the innocence with which she'd looked at him.

"She's going to be seventeen soon," he said finally. "She's not… my little girl anymore."

"Yet she still looks at you like she's three."

"And I hope that never changes."

...

Ginny was outside. He knew she could listen to each and every word he said. He looked across him at Lily, and then back at the ground again.

This was not for Lily.

She was not made for the Ministry. She was not supposed to be an Auror.

How was Ginny not seeing this?

How had she accepted it so easily?

Twenty-five years ago, when he'd walked into the Ministry, he'd vowed that things would change. They had to at that time.

Fifteen years later, he'd found himself vowing he'd not let his children suffer the same fate he had had. That he'd not let them become a pawn of the Ministry.

To his credit, he'd succeeded.

Three years ago, when James decided to become a Curse Breaker, he'd felt the relief that one felt after a hard job well done. One year later, when Albus claimed his dreams of becoming a Healer, he'd been satisfied. He had been so sure he'd saved them from a miserable future.

Harry had never expected his youngest to say those words.

"Dad," Lily urged now. "Dad."

Harry looked up from the floor, and met with his daughter's eyes, carrying a look he'd seen many times before. It was the look she had before she caught the Snitch, the one she'd had when she'd asked him to turn her into Dory so many years ago.

It was when she was unstoppable.

"How'd it come to this, Lils?" Harry asked. "Why an Auror? I always thought you wanted to play Quidditch. Like your mum."

What had gone wrong?

"That was when I was eleven, Dad," Lily said, and he had that unworldly feeling that he had let her down. "I'm seventeen now. I know what I want to do."

"No you don't, Lils," he said. "The Ministry isn't what it was before. It isn't—"

"You don't think I know that?" Lily said quietly, and he could see the anger flashing in her eyes.

She knew that. She'd known that for years now.

She'd been on the receiving side of it.

Four years back, when she'd needed help, the Ministry hadn't given it.

Four years back, when she'd been cornered by Dementors in broad daylight, the Ministry hadn't come to her rescue.

He remembered the muffled cries he'd heard from her room that night, cries she'd tried hard to suppress, but hadn't been able to. She'd been the witness to the work of a Dementor. An innocent Muggle being a victim. He knew she blamed herself. For not being able to produce a Patronus. For not being able to save a person who'd only ever tried to help.

He'd failed in protecting her.

And she'd paid the price.

Eleven years back and it had happened again.

She had a friend. Julian. He remembered him. When they were seven, they liked to play in the pond at the back of their house, pretending to be frogs turned into princes. He remembered how the cookies vanished when they were together, how the swing he'd tied to the poplar tree in their garden was reserved only for them.

That day Ginny had had to go out, so Lily had gone over to play with him.

Harry had always known his work would one day catch up with him.

Just never like this.

When he'd got that message from Ginny, her horse prancing around the room in a panicked gallop, he knew it had happened. When he Apparated into their house, Julian's parents were the first thing he saw. Lying on the floor, victims of the killing curse.

But nothing could have prepared him from what he saw upstairs.

Julian's body. His eyes gazing into the ceiling, his hands which had never stayed still before, lying limp on the ground. It was very much unlike the sandy-haired boy he'd grown accustomed to see during the weekends, sitting opposite to him in the kitchen as he helped himself to Ginny's pancakes.

Beside him, Lily lay on her mother's lap, sobbing into her shirt, but refusing to leave Julian's side. He could hear her incoherent cries, her mumbles as she repeated a phrase over and over again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

And his heart broke, because his little girl had seen something no child should ever have to see.

Because she'd watched her friend die.

Because he'd failed again.

And she'd paid the price.

Lily knew the Ministry — better than even he did — how they chose whom to save, how they chose whom they forgot, their cases never to be heard of again. How the Ministry had slowly lost sight of what they were fighting for. How it was just a crumbling shell in the place of what it had once been.

And even though it was the most daunting thing he'd ever admitted to himself, deep down, he knew that Lily was wired to this. Just like he'd been at her age, this was what she knew she wanted to do.

But unlike him, he knew she'd succeed in what he failed.

And even though he didn't understand, he knew he didn't have a choice.

"I always thought you wanted to be a Quidditch player," he said, and Lily smiled, her eyes tired. As if she was tired of fighting for herself.

But he knew she still had fight left.

"I think you lost me there on the way," she replied finally and Harry smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I probably did."

"One day you'll realise she's more like you than you'll ever know."

He'd never understand, but he'd try.

He'd vowed he'd never let his children do the same mistakes he had, but perhaps, that vow had been more for him than it was for them. And in the end, he knew that him being an Auror had only fueled the fire he'd begun to see in his daughter.

Perhaps, him being an Auror hadn't been a mistake at all.

If that's what she wanted to be.

"You know, Dad," Lily said, and Harry, for a second there, saw a hint of fear in her eyes but didn't know what it was for. "I don't exactly need your permission."

"I know you don't."

"I'd just really like you to know."

Harry nodded, his green eyes glinting with unshed tears. Green like the forest a rainy day, she'd said. Green like his.

Because if there was one thing he'd always known about his daughter, it was that she knew him. That even when he'd lacked in being a father to her at times, she'd never lost sight of him.

Even when he hadn't listened to her present.

But he'd listen to her now. He'd do for her what he should have done years back.

Listen.

So he smiled because he'd lost her there, but never completely. Because she was his daughter. Because she was his to protect and let go.

Because she was more like him than he'd ever know.

Harry heaved in a breath, and looked at her, this time seeing her for herself, and not the little girl he had gotten used to in his mind.

"I know now," he said.

And Lily smiled.

...

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Huge, huge thanks to my teammates for beta-ing!!

#Lily Luna and Harry father daughter relationship #Harry Potter #Lily Luna Potter #Ginny Weasley #Hinny fluff #Family #Timeline #Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley #Albus Severus Potter #James Sirius Potter #Father Daughter fluff #Next gen #Next-gen fan fiction #Fanfiction #Hinny #Hinny married #written for the quidditch league fan fiction competition

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Hey! First of all, I'd like to say that I love your works on AO3! "Fifteen Minutes With You" (or smth along those lines) was one of the first fics of levihan I read, and I loved it!

Anyway, a couple of sentence prompts that've been rolling around in my head. I'll add some detail, but feel free to use or discard anything. Writing is tricky lol!

"What if I (insert bad deed)?"

"I'll love you just the same"

"And if I (do smth bad)?"

"I'll love you just the same."

I was feeling a childhood levihan thing goin on here, maybe angsty? Idk

And fluffiness

"Wow! It's been 4 days!"

"Since?"

"I last bathed!"

*thwack*

Aaah hello! Thank you so much, I’m always pleasantly surprised to find people who read my Levihan fics from back in the day :D it brings me so much joy, you’ve no idea.

I decided to go with the bath prompt - though admittedly, it ended up far less fluffy and far more angsty than I intended, I hope you can enjoy it regardless!

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

"Hange."

...

"Hange."

...

"Oi, shitty glasses. Hange."

No response.

Levi stands in the doorway, shoulder-leaning the frame and glowering into Hange's cluttered quarters. He has been calling her name for the better part of five minutes now, but Hange, hunched over her desk with her nose mere inches from the leaf of parchment she is scribbling on, had failed to notice him.

He kicks his boot against the door, and the resounding bang is enough to catch her attention. She jumps a little in her chair, and turns quickly to the door. She relaxes when her gaze lands on him.

"You scared me."

Levi grunts. "You didn't come to dinner.”

Hange blinks at him. Her gaze travels to the window, where the sky beyond had grown dark save for a speckle of stars and the thin smile of a wispy moon.

"I forgot.”

Levi rolls his eyes, pushing off the door frame.

"You forgot lunch, too." And breakfast, and countless meals over the last few days, weeks. Months, maybe.

She hums absently, turning back to her papers. "I've been busy. Lost track--I don't know how Erwin had enough time in the day to do everything."

Levi gives a noncommittal grunt and picks his way towards the desk, avoiding haphazard piles of books and papers and discarded scrolls, small, disorganised mountains of debris that must have made some semblance of sense to Hange. Even as he watches, she twists in her chair and reaches blindly into one pile, plucking up a stack of papers and dropping them onto the desk with a sigh.

Levi stops beside the desk, arms folded over his chest to look at her.

Up this close, Hange looks tired. It isn't an unusual sight--Hange has been prone to fits of research-fuelled insomnia for as long as Levi has known her, so easily side-tracked by her every theory and scheme that basic needs like sleep and sustenance often took a back seat. But there is something unsettling to her exhaustion, these days. There is no manic glint in her eye, no exaggerated waving or yelling, no aroused flush to her cheeks; recently, Hange is always pale, skin papery at best, but waxy and sickly more often than not. Her shoulders sag over the desk, shirt hanging more loosely over her frame than Levi remembers, and there's a near constant tremor to her fingers that barely ceases even as she presses pen to paper, scribbling notes and signatures on countless forms presented by countless people.

Her gaze is fixed dully on the newest expense report, now. The low orange light of her lamp flickers in the lenses of her glasses; fire dances on a matt black backdrop over her left eye, where the patch is strapped firmly in place. Her right is half closed, exhaustion pulling at the lid, the skin beneath is puffy and bruised deep purple. Her lips, dry and cracked, shift almost imperceptibly as she mouths the words on the page, reading quickly, scratching her signature where needed and flipping to the next page.

"There's food," he says, leaning his hip on the corner of the desk. "Stew, and the brats hid some bread from Sasha. Go eat something."

"In a minute," Hange mumbles. Levi huffs, and pinches the top of the quill, plucking it out of Hange's grasp. It's a testament to her exhaustion, that her fist keeps the motion of writing for a second too long before realising she is no longer making a mark on the paper. With a tired sigh, she sits back, and levels her tired gaze on Levi.

"In a minute," she says again, holding her hand out for the pen. "Let me finish these first."

"Eat. It'll still be here when you get back."

She looks very much like she wants to argue. Levi watches the way her brow creases in the middle, the way her eye pinches, narrowing at him, the way her hands ball into white-knuckled fists against her thighs. But she's tired. She is bone tired, and the righteous energy saps from her within seconds. She deflates, and brings a hand up to rub at her eye, knocking her glasses up to her forehead as she does.

Levi almost wishes she had fought with him instead. There's a terrible, gnawing guilt, seeing her like this--seeing the way the weight of his choice bears down on her. Hange is a worthy Commander, of that, Levi is certain--Erwin never would have chosen her if he didn't believe the same.

But things have changed. The world has changed. And what it means to be Commander of the Survey Corps has morphed into something unfathomable larger and more complex than what it was before. It is unchartered territory, and Hange has been thrown into waters black and bottomless.

Hange pushes her bangs back from her face with both hands. The hair, limp with grease, sticks in place, and even Hange seems surprised, pulling her hands back and looking almost curiously at her palms.

"Huh. Its been four days."

"Since?"

She gives him a look, then, and there's a flash of something old and familiar in her eye. She quirks the corner of her mouth in a grin.

"Since I bathed."

Levi swiftly raises his arm, and Hange flinches, but the curled fist that thunks atop her head is almost gentle. She blinks up at him in surprise.

"Disgusting. I'll hose you down after you eat."

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

Hange sits cross-legged in the tub, while Levi's fingers scrub soap suds into her scalp. The bathroom is mostly dark, save for the flicker of lamplight and the pale, foggy glow from the moon through the window.

She is quiet while he cleans her. She had eaten some food, though not as much as he would have liked; sipped at the stew and picked half heartedly at the bread the kids had painstakingly secured. It was better than nothing, but Levi finds his gaze travelling from the top of her soapy head to her bony shoulders, and to the knotted curve of her spine. He can see the shift of her ribs beneath her skin, and when she obediently leans her head back for him to rinse the suds from her hair, he can see twin points of bone at her hips, the skin brutally bruised from the pressure of their belts.

Something unpleasant rolls in his gut.

"Turn around."

Hange does, twisting until she is facing him and re-crossing her legs. Levi dips a cloth into the warm bath water and begins the meticulous process of scrubbing her down, starting at her shoulders. Hange dutifully extends first one arm, and then the other, and it is while Levi is thumbing at the grime between her fingers that she hums, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin upon them.

"It's been a while," she says, voice soft in the quiet. Levi moves on to the next finger; Hange's hands, like his, are calloused across her palms and at the tips of her fingers, from years of using the triggers on the manoeuvre gear. They are rough, but her fingers are longer and thinner than his own, and limp in his hand like this, they look almost delicate.

Levi hums in question.

"Since we did this."

Levi makes another non-committal sound. Things have been hectic, since everything that happened at Shiganshina. A whirlwind of learning, adapting, planning, everything moving at such a dizzying pace that moments like this had been all but abandoned.

Moments of peace, of quiet; moments where the world falls still and time slows to barely a trickle, they are a rarity none of them have been able to afford.

Levi dips the cloth in the water and rinses the soap from Hange's hands.

"We've been busy," he says. You've been busy, is what he thinks, but his guilt would sit too far forward, if he said it like that; it would be too brazen, and he knows already that his apology is not what Hange wants to hear. He made his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences. There is no room for regret.

Hange sits back when Levi brings the cloth down over her chest, crossing her legs so he can wash over her belly and sides.

"It's nice," she says. "I forgot. How nice it was."

"For you, maybe," Levi says. He taps her knee, and Hange hook her leg out over the side of the tub. Levi adds more soap to the cloth and smooths it over her thigh.

Hange lets out a low chuckle. "Just another floor to mop for you, huh?"

"The floors don't get this filthy."

He is careful around her knee, where scar tissue from a recent wound is still forming. It is tender to the touch, he knows, but Hange makes no complaints when he touches it. She lets out a pleasant little groan when his fingers knead into her calves, toes curling.

Levi washes over her foot, then taps the sole, and Hange draws one leg back in and raises the other one, and the process starts again. It is methodical and familiar; strangely comforting, in the mess of everything. They've been battered with new information, faced with a world that is so vastly different from anything they had imagined before, burdened with the insurmountable task of exploring it, of finding their place in it--all of this new, all of this frightening.

But this; this is an old tale. They have danced this dance for years, muscle memory leading them in each step. Shiganshina changed some things--Levi is more gentle in places than he used to be, careful cleaning the thickened, still healing skin on her back where Bertolt's titan had burned her. He used to dump water over her head like a dog, bit back smiles at the way she would cough and sputter and stare indignantly through her hair at him, but now is he careful to keep water from dripping into her bad eye. He slides the cloth over her face with more consideration, avoiding too much contact with the tender tissue above and below her clouded, milky eyeball. The swelling has lessened considerably over time, but the wound will remain raw for a long while to come.

When he is done, he helps her stand, and rinses her down with a pale of clean water before offering a hand to help her step from the tub. Standing up to full height, Levi can see the extent of the way her body has changed. She has always been a rake of a thing, all straight lines and sharp edges, but she has always seemed strong and sturdy. Something steady, dependable.

Now, she seems fragile in a way Levi has never known her to be. There is no room left for her to bend; too much pressure, and he fears she will snap, splinter into a million pieces he cannot hope to fit back together again.

He holds a towel for her. Hange takes it with a small, grateful smile, and wraps it around herself, then leans back against the edge of the tub and bows her head. Levi scrubs at her hair with a second towel, ringing as much water from it as he can.

She dries herself half heartedly and pulls on the spare shirt Levi had brought for her while her back and shoulders are still damp. The fabric sticks to her, highlights the protruding bones of her spine when she bends over to tug on her pants.

Once fully dressed, Hange stretches, popping her back as she does, and rolls her shoulders, her neck. She gives Levi a lazy, pleased smile.

"I needed that," Hange says. Levi clicks his tongue.

"I know. You stank."

Hange laughs, a light, airy thing.

"Always so kind, Levi," she says tunefully. She seems loose, more relaxed than Levi has seen her in what feels like forever. Her shoulders sit lower not bunched up about her ears, and her face isn't so pinched or strained. It's a relief.

It's short lived.

"I should get back," she says.

"You should sleep."

She shrugs a shoulder at him, waves a hand.

"Later," she says. Even as she speaks, Levi can see the tension rising in her; the respite of a bath and a hot meal had been brief, and already the weight is reloading. Her burden grows heavier by the second.

"A few hours, Hange. The paperwork will still be there when you wake up."

"And there will be more, no doubt," she says. "I'll get further behind than I am already."

There is no more room for negotiation. Levi can only count himself lucky that he managed to get this far with her, to do this much. He schools his face into a neutral expression and nods, scooping to pick up her wet towel and dropping it into the laundry basket as he follows her out of the bathroom.

Levi refuses to regret his choice. He made the right decision in Shiganshina, and he will not doubt himself for that.

But the tight, nauseous knot in his stomach does not ease. He watches Hange settle back into her desk chair, strap her eye patch over her still-damp hair, and bow herself over the pile of papers she had abandoned on the desk, and the sickening unease swells to his chest, pushing the air from his lungs.

He made the choice to condemn Erwin to death. He will do everything he can to ensure he has not done the same thing to her.

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

Thank you again for the ask!! If anyone else has prompts, please feel free to send them :) I can’t promise I’ll fill everything, but it’s a fun exercise

#levihan #snk #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #thank you so much!! i really enjoyed doing this one ;;#i like anything that lets me just gratuitously describe....anything #asks

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reyesstrand · 3 years

Note

24 for Carlos & Judd pls!?!?!

thank you for the prompt! also i have to admit that i wanted to have this up last night but then...everything happened and my original idea was swayed a bit by some of the scenes in the promo and....yeah askdasdfjsa. anyway, i’ve never ventured into this dynamic but it was really fun!! i hope you enjoy 💗

feel free to send me a number from this list! also available on ao3!

Carlos takes a deep breath as he slows the Camaro to a crawl.

The big and bold Engine 126 over the open bay door of the firehouse is like a beacon, and with every passing second Carlos feels himself growing both calmer and excited at the prospect of spending the evening with his boyfriend and the crew. A few other cars are already parked along the outside of the station, the sun slowly slinking down past the horizon and leaving streaks of orange in its wake. He sighs happily to himself upon hearing the faintest beats of music spilling out into the street, strolling toward the bay as his thumbs move across the screen of his phone, texting TK that he’s arrived.

The firehouse has started feeling like home over the past few months, as he’s been included in more gatherings. He feels like he’s part of the family, and it’s only affirmed when he hears his name in a familiar voice, and he grins as he looks over his shoulder and sees Grace locking up her car from across the lot.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, immediately wrapping her up in a hug when she approaches.

“Always the flatterer,” she jokes, squeezing him tight in return.

“You know how it is,” Carlos grins at her, eventually moving to sling his arm through hers as they move deeper into the bay. The music is louder, now, and they follow it and the smell of what can only be Paul’s cooking and the muffled conversation up the stairs.

These gatherings have become a sort of tradition of late, celebrating life in general with an occasional birthday or successful run of calls thrown in there. This one is much more laid-back; there are big plates of food waiting to be devoured on the kitchen island, but everyone is mostly just mingling.

Carlos immediately finds TK in the crowd, as he chats animatedly with Marjan and Nancy over by the sectional, where all of them are seemingly fawning over Buttercup. Grace must be aware of his distraction, because she hugs him close to her side for a moment before stepping away.

“I’ll let you go see him, sweetheart,” Grace says, eyes warm. “I should go find my husband, anyway.”

He nudges her gently with his shoulder before beelining for his boyfriend, who looks over and meets his eyes. TK winks at him and gets to his feet, murmuring something to Marjan and Nancy before strolling over to meet Carlos halfway, his hands behind his back in his typical coy stance.

“Fancy seeing you here,” TK grins, once they’re close enough. He shifts his head to the side and Carlos can’t help but to feel his heart swell, taking in the way that TK’s eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth curves up into a smile that’s always soft and reserved just for moments like these.

Carlos hums, smiling himself as he reaches out to casually lay a hand on TK’s hip. He speaks under his breath and through a smile: “How are you?”

“Oh, well,” TK glances around the room, stepping forward slightly. His smile widens when he meets Carlos’ eyes again. “Better now.”

“Really,” Carlos grins, and TK nods, closing the gap between them with a flash of mischief in his eyes.

The kiss is brief and casual—something Carlos couldn’t imagine when thinking back on their relationship mere months ago, when everything was fuelled by desperate want. They’re smiling like idiots when they pull apart, but Carlos still stays put where he always wants to be: in TK’s space, watching him smile back at him.

“Am I interrupting something?”

TK huffs a little, and glances over to where Judd gently looms over them both.

“Your old man wants to see you,” Judd says, and TK snorts.

“You know, I’d love to see you call him that to his face,” TK cocks a brow at him, before sighing and clapping Judd on the shoulder. He drops his voice and says, “play nice with him,” briefly squeezing Carlos’ hand and then stalking off toward the other side of the room.

Carlos freezes momentarily, which is kind of silly, really, because.

Well.

He’s known Judd longer than he’s known TK; ever since he was a rookie still getting used to the chaos of an active emergency. Hell, Judd was one of the first people to reach out to him when he was still getting a hang of things. But for whatever reason, the pressure of seeing him now as his boyfriend’s big brother has him feeling awkward.

And it’s evident that Judd’s feeling it too, because they’re both quiet for a few seconds that seemingly stretch on for eons, and Carlos finally reaches out his hand, for Judd to respond with his fist. Carlos winces as his fingers fold over Judd’s knuckles, awkwardly bringing his hand back and looking anywhere but Judd’s eyes.

“Right, so,” Judd retracts his fist and pushes it into his other palm, running his thumb over the back of his hand. “I just wanted to—”

Carlos can’t help but to cut in. “Judd, if this is about respecting TK’s boundaries, or whatever, I have no intention of—”

“Oh no, brother, I—” Judd sighs, and rubs the back of his neck. “I just wanted to tell you how happy we are for you guys. Grace is telling me it’s important that I...communicate my emotions, or whatever, and TK means a whole lot to me. To us, y’know? And you make him happy.”

Carlos feels his face go warm.

“Um, well,” Carlos stuffs his hands in his pockets, glancing over to where TK is very obviously keeping an eye on the two of them, disguising his actions by pouring pretzel sticks into a bowl. “Thanks? He makes me happy too.”

“That’s obvious from a mile away, kid,” Judd smirks, and Carlos rolls his eyes. “Seriously, we’ve got your backs.”

“Thanks, man,” Carlos says earnestly, feeling the air shift around him as TK sidles up to him again. He drops his arm over TK’s shoulders, and he immediately reaches up to grab at Carlos’ hand that brushes against his slowly fading gunshot scar.

“I knew you were a big softie,” TK teases, as Judd grumbles under his breath before reaching over to ruffle up TK’s hair.

When Judd heads back off toward Grace, after a successful fist bump with Carlos, TK links their fingers together.

“All good?” He asks, and Carlos’ heart surges as he presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

It’s the deepest truth when he murmurs back, “couldn’t be better.”

#911 lone star #lone star fic #tarlos fic #my fic #simplykelc

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dindooku · 3 years

Text

chapter 6

faith

rating: E (swearing, violence) angst and SMUT!!! pls b mindful but enjoy the show, things will b heating up from here; dindooku xoxo

Without realising, you let the force guide you through the hallways of the ship. An unfamiliar resonance vibrated in the air and you couldn’t stop yourself from following it. After a minute of trying to collect you emotions, the tap eventually burst and you silently stifled cries into your right arm sleeve as you paced the silent balls of the starship.

After what felt like only moments, but was actually a good half hour, you found yourself stood outside of an unfamiliar door. The resonance from before that you had been unconsciously following was now deafening and you didn’t realise you were knocking on the door until it slid open, revealing a familiar face.

“Amy, why are you—”Anakin rasps, the initial grievance at being woken at this hour all but forgotten when he sees the state you’re in.

“Who hurt you.” he grits out, baring a few sharp teeth at his sudden anger.

You don’t reply however, in fact, you don’t even know why you’re here. But the moment Anakin pulls you in and wraps you in your arms you know you’d somehow done the right thing; letting all of your emotions physically spill out into his chest as the sobs wrecked your chest. “Amy tell me who hurt you,” He demanded, stroking the top of your head with one hand while the other was wrapped around your shoulders. You noticed his complacency in his actions and how Anakin seemed considerably more comfortable with, well...comforting. He’d done this before, and a small curiosity peaked, you knew you’d question him later - but now wasn’t the time.

“I—I can’t t…tell yo…you,” You managed between strangled breaths. And that was the bitter reality of your situation. There was no one you could turn to.The one person you’d come to trust had all but stabbed your feelings and thrown you out into the dark. You weren’t close to Anakin, but with the way he was being so protective; how he was actually un-shy to show his concern - understanding that emotion was not a poisonous trait but actually a bittersweet gift you had to learn to master was endearing.

“Why?” He questioned, pulling you away from his chest and searching your eyes for an answer. The familiar twinge of something knocking at your consciousness took your attention, but not for long as Anakin only confirmed your suspicions. “Oh, Obi-Wan,”

Anakin had read your mind.

The blatant invasion of privacy had initially angered you, but you supposed it was easier and less painful that he read your mind and understood what had happened instead of prying for answers you weren’t sure you could give.

“Please, don’t, he…he made a mistake, it’s my fault” you blurt out. You were angry, beyond pissed off, but you really did not want the drama. Obi-Wan didn’t care for you the way you did for him and starting an argument wasn’t going to change that.

“Yes. Indeed, he has made a mistake. Stay put” Anakin commanded as he tried to let you go, but you wouldn’t have it.

“Please, please don’t go, I don’t want to be by myself, I have no where to go, no one. Please, can I just kip on your couch or something? I want to pretend this never happened. Please, Anakin.” You practically begged, fresh tears falling down your cheeks.

Anakin hesitated for a second but saw how wound up you were so decided he’d stay. He didn’t say anything and instead opted to pull you into another hug, silently shhh’ing you as you both slowly lolled back and forth to a silent beat. Anakin decided he would tell Padme about this, she’d understand - maybe somehow she’d know the words you needed to hear and offer better advice than he could give. That would allow him to deal with Obi-Wan at least. But that was for another time - he could feel how tired you were and you needed to sleep this off. He slowly pulled you out of your embrace and led you to the sofa, quickly grabbing a throw blanket and a couple cushions to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. It wasn’t long until you were out like a light, the drain from your whirlwind of emotions had sunk you into a heavy sleep.

______

Anakin stayed true to his word and stayed with you until the next day.

He left early in the morning to go to the mess hall and collect a packed breakfast, lunch and dinner for you. He highly doubted you’d want to be up and around the ship today after last night, the chance of running into Obi-Wan wasn’t one you wanted to take.

When you awoke in the morning you instantly went about trying to apologise for your state of person and the way you spoke to him, but Anakin brushed it off saying he would be stressed himself considering what you’d been through - he even praised you for managing to keep a cool lid until then. You both chuckled at this and soon things were comfortable, or as comfortable as they could be at least.

He could see the concern rolling off you but couldn’t stay with you all day, he had Jedi business to attend to, as well as a severe talking with Obi-Wan at the top of his list. So instead, he hatched the plan for you and his Padawan to meet.

_____

Anakin had left an hour or so ago now. He’d given you your own data pad to browse through, using a form of what you could only describe as their own type of internet. You had access to everything on this, and you soon educated yourself on the underpinnings of Coruscant, the Jedi and recent political galactic history. If you were to serve in the Army here, you’d need to know what you were fighting for. You did search for Earth, but as expected - there was nothing. Disheartened, you delved into the sweet fruit Anakin had brought back to you, glancing at your watch in the process. Time had flown by as it was now approaching 2.34PM, or it was at least by your personal body clock.

Over the course of the day you’d begun to listen to yourself more. You’d managed to hone in on this other presence within you, and within no time you found yourself able to use this new 6th sense to your advantage. You could sense when people would walk past the door before they actually did, and you were able to listen in on conversations which would normally be too far away to understand - yet you were able to hear them as clear as day. After a little research you found this to be the same Force that Obi-Wan had spoken about. Your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to see if you could use this sense in a physical form.

You placed the data pad down on the sofa as you sat cross legged into a relaxed but controlled meditative pose - one you were comfortable in and allowed you to focus. Your eyes fell upon the fresh fruit you had taken a bite out of. You thought back to the time with Obi-Wan at Dex’s and how he made the speeder move in the air - wanting to imitate the same movements on this piece of fruit before you. You centred yourself and controlled your breathing, and the process came naturally to you. You felt a familiar rush through your body, but this time it was controlled.

This power wasn’t fuelled by rage or anger or hurt, but it was calm, controlled and collected.

The fruit rose.

You didn’t hide the quiet squeal of delight that tingled your throat.

You were doing this.

Suddenly something brought you out of your concentration - a presence. You slowly dropped the fruit back to the coffee table. This presence was stronger than the others, and soon it stood still outside your door. You knew they wanted to come in and were about to knock, so you invited them in before they had to chance.

“Come in,” you say, picking up the data pad to act as if nothing had happened.

The door slid open and a familiar face walked in. It was the same creature that had spoken to Kenobi when you were in the Dojo’s back on Coruscant.

“Hey,” They greet you sweetly, placing weight on one side of their hip and resting a hand there. They were a creature you’d never seen before. They had orange skin and odd blue and white tendrils that flowed elegantly from their head. They seemed to have a female frame similar to yours, although you didn’t like to assume. You were hesitant to acknowledge them at first, but after reaching out through the Force you knew she was good. Her aura was calm, and the lights that surrounded her were bright and pure. “I’m Anakin’s Padawan, and you’re Amy, right?” Ashoka finished.

“Yes, Amy, Amy Croft,” you introduce yourself, placing the data pad down on the sofa and moving to stand. You’re interrupted in your movements by Ashoka making her way over to the sofa and sitting down next you you, crossing her legs like yours were and reaching out a hand. You sit back down onto the sofa and copy her, falling into your previous position but turned, your knees parallel to one another.

“Ashoka Tano,” she replied as the two of you shook hands.

“Is this a custom on Earth?” Ashoka asks, smiling innocently as you both moved your arms away and you picked up the fruit from the coffee table.

“What, shaking hands?” You ask back, taking another bite from the fruit you had no idea the name of.

“Yes,” Ashoka says, punctually. She didn’t seem condescending or rude like most would, just curious. And you supposed you were both in the same boat - curious.

“Yeah, it’s a formal greeting,” You say casually between bites. You feel at ease around her and she slumps back into the arm of the sofa. Ashoka looks down for a moment and fiddles with her hands before turning her attention back to you.

“Have you figured out how to use the Force yet?” She asks plainly. You’re dumbfounded at her brashness, but you like it. You wanted people to talk to you, not around you in fear that you’re fragile. You were still angry that Obi-Wan had hidden this from you. After researching the Force you now understood the conversation you’d listened in on in the hallways of the Jedi temple. Yes, Anakin had said he didn’t trust you, and you told yourself you would talk to him about that - but you supposed after the way he’d treated you and forgiven you so easily, you figured you’d just let it slide. However Obi-Wan would not get off as lightly, he was yet to prove himself - and by his absence throughout the day; not even bothering the check up on you, you knew your suspicions were true.

You bring yourself back to the moment with a little chuckle under your breath before you reply. You could answer with words and be honest, but you thought you’d let your next actions speak for themselves.

You finish the fruit with one final bite and instead of getting up to place it in the bin, you use the Force to fling it through the room instead. Much to Ashoka’s awe, she couldn’t deny the question that was how you’d managed to master your control of the Force so quickly. Usually it took years to be able to manipulate objects with the control you had just shown. Anakin had given her a brief run down before she came to see you, and she was sure he didn’t mention anything about you actually being able to use the Force, just that you had this odd presence and strong but unconscious connection. He was obviously wrong, they all seemed to be wrong. Although that didn’t surprise her, she knew the council could be twisted in their ways and she figured it was their own fault for being so blind to your capabilities. She would do what she did best and just observe and report back to Anakin and Obi-Wan.

You laugh at Ashoka’s shocked face and that breaks the ice, and you both spend the rest of the day sharing stories and Ashoka teaching you tid-bits about the Jedi Order, the Republic and the Separatists. Ashoka went on to explain they’d previously battled on Yerbanna, and the scene she described seemed to be intense. Nonetheless, separatist forces had found ground on the planet again so the Jedi were sent to restore the peace one again.

Hours had droned by and soon you were accompanied by Anakin again. He said he’d managed to find you a room of your own. You said goodbye to Ashoka and followed Anakin to your quarters. You were thankful they weren’t near Obi-Wan’s, and Anakin had managed to get you some that where quiet, secluded and out of the way. You didn’t need to tell him you needed your own space and time alone, and before he left for the evening he said he’d borrowed a droid to accompany you and retrieve your meals each day so you wouldn’t have to face anyone if you didn’t want to. He insisted that you could keep the droid with you at all times. He figured you needed the company and K9 would be the perfect fit for you. He had personally programmed it and explained how you can change certain parameters with the data pad he’d given you. It all seemed simple enough and you were excited to meet your droid the next day. Soon after Anakin had left, you hunkered down and got some well deserved sleep.

______

A few days had passed now and you knew you’d be approaching Yerbanna soon. You’d made good progress with your Force abilities, and much to K9’s dismay you’d managed to hold him in the air without faltering whilst you made yourself busy with a morning fitness routine you’d conjured. As each day passed you found it easier and easier to manipulate the Force around you. However, you kept your abilities to yourself, not wanting Anakin or anyone really to stop your learning or tell you what you were doing was wrong.

Whilst browsing the data pad you came across lightsaber forms and the various techniques. You scrolled through each of their meanings and found yourself most drawn to the centric of Soresu. You considered yourself a resilient person - the tests of time you had travelled through during your time on Earth and within this new life of yours certainly stood to prove that. You accessed the online Jedi archives (Anakin had given you his private password so you could do as much research as you wanted), and you soon found yourself browsing scholar articles explaining moves and forms. You drew out a plan and started from the beginning. There were some things you knew you wouldn’t be able to do, and some acrobatics seemed plain impossible - so you stuck to what you could do. Over the week you spent secluded in your cabin, away from everyone else; the troubles and terrifying new universe you found yourself in - you found comfort in the new presence within you…and of course, K9.

_____

By the fifth day you found yourself at peace with your relationship with Obi-Wan. You had come to respect his decision, despite his cruel ways of dealing with it. You had to forgive and let go so you yourself could move on. You recounted the words you had used to soothe Obi-Wan before:

Let go of the feelings that plague you so that new ones can heal you.

After researching Jedi meditation you managed to eventually crack the ice and release your feelings of hurt into the Force, and found that afterwards, your ability to focus and tune yourself into your environment came a lot quicker.

Now you understood why Obi-Wan was conflicted.

Now you could see both sides of the coin.

You didn’t resent him anymore, you sought peace.

You hoped that he had too.

_____

You had counted seven days in total. Your arrival at Yerbanna was imminent.

You were at peace with Obi-Wan now, and your situation at whole really. You’d had time to reflect and plan your next steps. You wanted to explore, to learn about the new galaxy you found yourself in. The limitless possibilities, the new gift you had found yourself able to control.

You could still feel Obi-Wan's presence, but now only occasionally. You had learnt to build barriers and control your emotions, and most importantly you’d learnt how to not be so loud.

____

You told Anakin to come in before he knocked (like you did every morning), greeting him with a smile and waving from under the blanket you cuddled up under every morning - cup of tea in one hand and data pad in the other.

“We’re here, we’ve got to be on the bridge in 15, I’ll walk you down if you like?” Anakin offered, and you obliged without arguing. You didn’t need him to tell you where it was; even though you hadn’t left your room. Over the week you had taken a moment to study the ships internals incase of an emergency…and you were just curious, too. You disappeared to your bedroom and put on your freshly washed army uniform.

You sported a black ribbed, racer-back tank top underneath a light green full sleeved tunic top. It was tight fitting but breathable, as well as extremely flexible. For trousers, you put on your light brown, loose fitting combat pants. They had numerous pockets for instruments and equipment - housing a compass, penknife and other useful tid-bits. Next you laced up your leather boots. You then loaded up each thigh holster with both of your G19’s, fastening a combat knife into the secondary holster next to your gun on your right thigh.

Earlier in the week, Anakin had asked politely if you wouldn’t mind him converting your guns. He made sure to say that he appreciated that they were yours, but he also made it clear that straight metal would not be sufficient against battle droids. So, reluctantly, you handed them over. He had brought them back the next day, and you wouldn’t have guessed anything was different. Anakin had done his best to keep the initial integrity of the guns, so now instead of shooting bullets, they shot plasma. You were overjoyed to say the least - pleased that he hadn’t completely wrecked your possessions. You thanked him by sharing a precious piece of dried Mango you’d been saving for a special occasion. Anakin loved it.

You quickly pulled on your tactical gloves before you finally got round to putting your bulletproof vest on, then slinging your M14EBR over your shoulder. You filled each of the chest pockets with equipment you’d need for your mission as well as the annotated schematics of the compound you’d printed earlier in the week. You fastened your hair into a ponytail, not bothering to clip back the loose strands of fringe that framed your face.

This was it.

Time to prove yourself.

You strolled back out of your room, fully armed and in your battle mindset.

“Lets fuck some shit up” you smirk to Anakin whilst absentmindedly twirling the karambit combat knife in your hand as you strolled out your room.

______

Each battalion debriefs in the bridge before your squad of six deploy. You didn’t chance a look at Obi-Wan, not wanting him to break your concentration. You had to focus on the mission - this was paramount.

You loaded up into the ship you’d be taking to the surface. You were nervous to be flying but you supposed it wasn’t anything you’d not done before - jumping out of planes was almost a normal entry for you back on Earth. You’d suggested to Anakin earlier in the week that your team used wing suits to infiltrate without detection. He’d agreed with you but unfortunately Obi-Wan had objected, saying the risk of being detected by the canons without defences was too much. You had to accept his refusal, meditating on it in the evening to centre yourself and release your frustrations.

If he was going to be cruel and wind you up, you would be the bigger person and just let it be.

The landing went without hitch, and your group was soon tracking through the dark of night on a planet you’d never been to before. The intel had provided a secluded area on the planets surface, away form the city. Apparently separatists where using the remote location to build a droid army without detection, and Republic scanners had picked up significant heat traces and increased traffic to the previously considered uninhabitable area of Yerbanna. Scouts had only confirmed their suspicions, which brought everything back to you - the newcomer from Earth who was infiltrating a Separatists base through underground vents.

You led the team through the manhole you’d highlighted previously on the schematics you’d printed out, and after the predicted half hour of scurrying left and right you found yourself at your destination.

“Right, we are directly underneath the compounds server room. If I am correct, the main current should come from this direction,” you point to the right of you, just past the shoulders of the six men you were leading, “but before we blow the charges I need to plant the bug.” You finished as you fished into the front pocket and brought out a file stick.

You had asked Anakin for a universal server port and electronic soldering kit earlier in the week after going over the intel and schematics. He asked why and you just told him you wanted to tinker with K9. What he didn’t know was that you’d managed to reform your USB stick, which just so happened to contain a kill code that you could download data from servers with whilst simultaneously planting a virus which would infect any other networks they were connected to - and if your suspicions were correct, this server room was interlinked with all of the separatist technology within this planet and any nearby. This meant that all the computer processing systems would be rendered useless once you pressed the button - boom.

No power. No fighting.

Or at least that’s what you hoped.

You hadn’t briefed Anakin and Obi-Wan about this - hoping to use the element of surprise to your advantage. If your plan was successful, they’d be left twiddling their thumbs, and if not, then - well, you’d have someone to watch your back.

You glanced at your watch. Right on time.

“Right boys, let’s get this show on the road” you said as you twirled a finger in a circle next to your head before opening the upper hatch.

You slowly peered your head into the room, using the Force to feel for any lifeforms or autonomous presence. The room was empty, only filled by the typical hum of servers. You pull yourself up and waved for the others to follow, signalling for them to take up their defensive positions and plant the charges in the room before you made your way over to the PC. You asked one of the soldiers to accompany you so they could translate any language you might not understand. You’d asked K9 to download a file that would translate your English into Galactic basic and vice-versa so that you could read the code that would show up on the controller you would use to manipulate and control the USB with. You made your way over with the soldier and pointed to the main computer.

“Where’s the info port for this thing?” You asked them. They pointed to the side of the PC and you placed your USB into the slot. You pulled out your controller so that you could start the process of hacking and infesting the framework.

“What is that?” The soldier asked, taking their helmet off so they could get a decent look.

“What’s your name, soldier?” You deflect, not taking your eyes off your controller screen. You were typing through the settings and trying to decipher the code so you could find a decent hidden spot to embed the virus.

“F06633” They replied.

You thought for a second, trying to conjure up a nickname.

“Well, F06633, I’m gonna call you Foxy, is that ok with you?”

“Yes sir”

“Please, call me Amy, foxy” you both grinned. You lowered your voice as you answered his earlier question, “This isn’t something I discussed with General Kenobi or Skywalker. So keep it close to yourself. I’m uploading a virus into the frameware which will disable all forms of communication as well as function of Separatist technology on Yerbanna,” you say, pausing for a moment as you find the embed site you had been looking for. This break in the code was perfect and would be hidden well.

“Was this your idea?” Foxy asks, peering around at his brothers to make sure all was well.

“Yes Fox, and not only am I going to disable all of their servers, but I’m also going to steal all of their data too,” you grin, teeth glinting in the low light of the room.

“Genius,” foxy chuckled deeply. You knew you’d made a friend here.

A minute had gone by and you had nearly finished the download. The upload was almost instant, however there was so much useful data, it was taking longer than you’d anticipated download it all onto your portable SSD.

83% …84%….85%…

“Sir, droids approaching” a soldier from the door whispered.

89%…90%…91%…

“Just a few more seconds, okay?” You whisper back, one hand hovering over the enter key and the other ready to grab the USB.

“Sir, they’re right outside” another informs you, trying their best to keep their voices down.

“93%…94%…95%…”

The reflection of the LED light for the doorways panel flicks from red to green. You can’t afford to lose this. You don’t even think before you swing an arm out behind you, halting the door in its tracks, using the Force to stop it from opening.

Foxy looks at you shocked, ‘You didn’t look like a Jedi’ he thought.

“I am no Jedi, foxy” you whisper, having heard his loud thoughts break through your concentration.

99%…100% - download complete

Your controller flashes green. You focus your mind and hold the door in place, sweat trickling down your forehead against the strain. You hit the enter key and upload the virus as you remove your USB stick. Instantly the server room falls into darkness and the strain against the door falls. So do the two droids outside the door; you’d crushed them in your panic.

You let out a pained breath, clutching at your heart as you turn to face Foxy. The both of you laugh in disbelief that it’d actually worked.

“Thank fuck for that,” you chuckle, placing a hand on his shoulder, closing your eyes and dropping your head in relief.

Your celebrations are short lived though as the sound of more droids can be heard scurrying down the hallway.

“Of course I jinxed it” you mutter under your breathe.

“What do you mean, Jinxed it?” Foxy muttered, slightly agitated at how you were just sat there and not moving - you needed to get out of here, and quick.

“I can only guess that some of the droids run on their own system, not relying on the server for code. Some will be taken out, like defences and canon’s, but the droids will remain. We have to follow the original plan - signal to the 212th and 501st to begin their assault.” You say to Foxy as you stand up and address the other soldiers in the room. You point to each soldier, asking for their names. Foxy interrupts his Com with Anakin and Obi-Wan.

“Wha—Amy now isn’t the time for thi—,”

“Foxy, just tell Obi-Wan and Anakin to be ready,” You assert. He doesn’t address you but still does as instructed. They all spoke quickly but in turn.

“E9468”

“V3538”

“O2639”

“D9390”

“T8363”

You thought for a moment but then had an idea, knowing exactly what you were to call them. You pointed to each soldier as you said their name.

“Echo, Victor, Oscar, Delta, Tango,” you said before turning to face Foxy, “and Foxy,” You smiled, turning back to face your new squad. You clapped your hands and rubbed them together briefly before pulling your modified G19’s into each hand. You strode towards the door and used the Force to push it open, sliding it across the hinges, “Let’s show them how it's done, eh boys?” You grin before stepping into the hallway and letting hellfire rain upon those who stood in your way.

“You heard her, let’s go!” Foxy shouted as they all filtered out of the room.

_____

Your body was on autopilot. If you closed your eyes you could remember a few missions similar to this. It almost felt like you were reliving past experiences - however this one was richer. You had the Force guiding you this time. You didn’t even need to look at the schematics, instead just following the feeling you’d come to trust, letting it guide you through the hallways. Every now and then you would have to duck and cover, but only momentarily. With each passing second, your use of the Force grew stronger and stronger. You were drawing in the energy around you and punishing those that stood in your way.

It was addicting.

You had gotten excited and crushed a few droids when your squad were particularly overloaded.

Now you were all pinned. You knew you could wait for Anakin or Kenobi’s squads to reach you, but you wanted this. You knew you could do this by yourself if you really wanted to, so you gave in. You pulled at the Force around you and let it vibrate through your consciousness, blending with your emotions and exerting its physical power over those you wished it to. You stepped out from the cover of the corner and threw your right hand out, halting the group of around 12 droids in their tracks, the red flurries of blaster bolts halted in the air.

You stared them down, grinning at the power you now held. With a flick of your wrist the bolts shot backwards, instantly downing the small squadron of metal in front of you. It felt glorious.

You turned back and waved for your group to follow, and before long you found yourself in the large warehouse that the 212th and 501st were currently working to siege.

Upon entering you were immediately shot at. You ducked and took evasive action, rolling behind the cover of a downed ship to the right of you. You signalled for your team to disperse and help with the other battalions.

“FOXY! Go help Skywalker and Kenobi, now! I have this!” You shout.

“Yes sir!” Foxy would’ve normally argued - he’d seen the amount of droids in front of you, but with the way you’d performed he had no doubt you would hold your own. Foxy waved the the group and they ran in the opposite direction to the aid of the other two groups.

You tucked down behind the cover, taking a second to breathe and concentrate. You briefly closed your eyes, feeling in the Force.

24 droids.

Easy.

You took another deep breath before you pulled from the Force like you had before. Jumping up, you ran towards the group of droids. They instantly opened fire but you blocked their attacks by pulling a large shard of metal in front of your body as a makeshift shield. You advanced again, pulling out one of your G19’s and downing a few of the droids.

23, 22, 21, 20…

You ducked to the right again, this time hiding behind the landing gear of a ship. You had to pull off something pretty spectacular here.

You pulled everything you could from the Force. And just like out of a movie, time seemed to slow as you moved from the cover of the ship, blaster bolts flying past you. You could predict each one though, you knew every move before it would happen. Breathing in, you forced your right arm out, palm open and fingers spread in front of the droids. And like before, you felt the addicting vibration of the power surging through you - you had them all in the palm of your hand. A tickling crackle of lightening danced between your fingers. And like that, you snapped. Violent tendrils of Force lightening lurched from your fingertips towards the droids, frying their processing systems, but you weren’t done yet. Your left hand rose too, but instead of using the violent electric pulse that coursed your veins, you tapped into the overbearing thrum that reverberated around your soul and clutched each of the droids forms within your grasp.You clenched your left fist tightly, crushing them.

The blaster bolts stopped and you stood admiring your handiwork.

“I could get used to this,” you mumble. Your appreciation is cut short by an unfamiliar voice.

“I haven’t seen you before, Jedi” comes a mechanical voice. You turn around to face the creature before you. It was tall and at least two metres high. It’s body consisted of metal, and they were hunched over at an uncomfortable angle, their cape falling over one of their shoulders. They had long, spindly arms and a mismatched torso of scrap metal. But when you met their eyes, you froze.

Molten gold stared back at you.

“And I can’t say I’ve met you?” You reply back, trying to win this battle of wits you’re now engaged in. You don’t get a chance to question them however, as Kenobi decides to join the fun.

“Grievous” He booms. You hadn’t noticed him approach behind you from the other side of the hanger. Everyone was creeping up on you now - you needed to focus again.

“Kenobi” Grievous coughs out, saying Kenobi’s name with extra gravel.

“Oh so you two know each other?” You turn sideways so you could see both of them, pointing a thumb on each hand toward their faces, “Is this something I need to leave you two alone with or…” You joke, finding the awkward triangle you are now in quite comedic. Neither of them say anything and instead just glare at you, so you decide to carry on with your little game for as long as you could, “Oh…I see… awkward breakup — they can be hard. Hey, don’t take it to heart Grievous, Kenobi always plays with his food,” you pathetically sympathise with Grievous, lacing your scripture with the deepest sarcasm you can fathom. Obi-Wan cuts you a knowing smirk but you don’t catch it, your sole focus on Grievous.

“Enough games Jedi, she’ll make a fine addition to my collection, Kenobi” Grievous confers between his guttural coughs. You give him a dirty look before turning to Kenobi, giving him a look and saying to him across the Force ‘can you believe this guy?’

Obi-Wan tenses for a second, realising that the voice in his head was you, and that you were now grinning over your shoulder with a look in your eye that only spelled trouble.

‘Don't’ Obi-Wan replied

‘Why not?’ You send back through the Force

‘He’s more powerful than you realise’ He warns.

‘Darling please, leave it to the professionals’ you grin back.

Before Obi-Wan can protest, you’re throwing your hand out and swiping it to the right, sending Grievous flying. Obi-Wan is in shock, he can’t move. He just stands and watches as you all but fling Grievous across the warehouse like a rag doll.

You race after Grievous, not bothering to wait for Kenobi to catch up. Sure, you could rely on your Force powers to pull your through this, and you expected a fight.

However you didn’t expect the jankey looking terminator to just ditch you and flee onto a ship. “Coward” you screamed as Greivous flew away, and you growled at yourself for being so complacent in your tactics. But you knew you could deal with him another time, you’d gotten what you came here for, and you hoped that Obi-Wan and Anakin would like the little surprise you had in store.

Soon the battle was won and you could finally breathe. You rejoined your group and asked them how they were, a few injuries here and there but they are all minor. You all loaded up onto the ship for a debrief on the main vessel.

_____

You’d signalled for K9 to meet you in the war room via the wrist communicator Anakin had given you as you followed behind Rex and Cody. The walk was short and you soon found yourself stood at stood in the centre of the room, leaning against the table as the holo-projection blurred to life. It showed all of the statistics of the mission, such as casualties, area covered and time taken by each squad to complete each objective. Once everyone had filled the room, the discussion began.

After 20 minutes or so, K9 made his way into the room. You stepped away from the table to greet him, giving him a pat on the head as you knelt down, petting him like you would a dog back on Earth. You remove the USB stick from your chest pocket and plug it into his mainframe, typing a few things into the keypad so that he could display the downloaded intel. You’d not had a chance to look at it yet, but when you did, your jaw dropped open in disbelief.

“Hey, Amy, why did it take you so long to get in, we were in the dark for a good couple minutes longer than we anticipated, what happened in there?” Anakin asked from the table, not noticing you had moved away to work on K9. They all turned to look at you, Obi-Wan included.

You were still working your way through your discovery and didn’t have time to look up, so you addressed him whilst crouching next to K9, “I was doing something,” you reply, not having enough mental space to give a proper answer.

“What do you mean, something,” Obi-Wan said, he was curious to say the least.

“Well, General Kenobi, if the Jedi weren’t so strict in their ways I can bet you’d want to kiss me,” you chuckle, removing the USB chip from K9 and running over to the table, instantly plugging the USB in. Anakin scoffs and Obi-Wan all but gasps, Rex and Cody following suit on their shock. But their shock soon turned from you to the holo-projector, which now showcased all of the droid construction warehouses that the Separatists owned, as well as other locations of interest. Everyones eyes were fixed on the intel in front of you, everyones except Obi-Wan’s. You took this brief moment of privacy to look at him, to really look at him.

You’d avoided him for the last week, and you had to admit he looked rough. It was like he’d aged ten years, the stress physically boring into his skin in the form of lines, and his eyes had lost their deep cerulean colour you had come so quickly to love. It saddened you, to know that you’d had this effect on him. You wished you hadn’t hurt him in this way, but you had be selfish and do what you needed to do, for your own sake. Things had moved too fast and you weren’t stable. It wouldn’t be fair to expect Obi-Wan to be able to deal with you, and it was unfair of him to expect you to be ok straight away. But now you’d had time to reflect, time to forgive him and let those feelings go. And that look was all it took to calm him. The soft smile you had gifted him even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He took it as a blessing, a wholehearted one; it wasn’t pitiful, it was just as warm and whole as he’d remembered it to be.

‘Im sorry’ Obi-Wan sent though the force.

‘I know’ you replied, softly.

“This really is remarkable, Amy, how did you get this?” Anakin asks, bringing his intense gaze onto you. You turned away from Obi-Wan, smiling back at Anakin.

“Well, you know that upload hardware and soldering kit I asked for earlier this week?” You said, smirking inwardly at your secret plan.

“Yes, I thought that was for K9?” He replied, stepping back and pulling the traditional Skywalker pose, leaning on one hip and crossing his arms.

“It was, partly,” you chuckled, “I hardwired the connector port to my USB so that it can connect to your data ports, then used K9 to translate my keyboard into galactic basic, vice versa. This allowed me to type code, and read your code too. I used the kill switch virus I’d designed back on Earth and embedded it into their servers, whilst simultaneously downloading all of their data onto the hard-drive. Thats why when you landed, the electric went out and you had no canon fire, and no shields.” You admitted, turning to K9 who was now at your side and giving him a slight pat on the head. No one said anything for a hot minute, and you began to think you’d done something wrong. You began to curl in on yourself, but Obi-Wan noticed your switch and said what everyone was thinking.

“That was truly marvellous, my dear. Well done,” He praised, his attention now back on the precious intel you’d managed to procure.

“Like I said, leave it to the professionals,” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders. It was no biggie, you’d done the same thing hundreds of times. You turned to the rest of the room, “I think I’m going to go clean up, if that’s ok with you all?” You asked, turning sideways to gesture you leaving.

Everyone nodded except for Obi-Wan. You turned to him, expecting an answer. You both locked eyes and exchanged silent words.

‘I want to talk to you’ Obi-Wan said.

‘I know. Come to mine after ok?’ You reply.

Obi-Wan nods in agreement, so you take your leave, K9 close at your heels.

______

You showered for longer than necessary, but the effects of the day were finally setting in. You’d used the Force more than you ever had today, and you supposed you had over-exerted yourself because every muscle screamed with a deep ache that couldn’t be fixed by stretching or painkillers. This was something you’d have to sleep off - you’d have to refrain from using the Force so heavily for a while. You supposed you had a weeks travel back, and having the comfort of your room should allow you the detox you needed.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping your body in one towel, your hair in another. You padded out and into your bedroom, changing into one of the large oversized tunics Obi-Wan had packed for you and some pants, then slipping on the cloak he’d packed, wrapping it around you like a wearable blanket. You could feel Obi-Wan’s restless presence heading to your quarters, so you stuck the kettle on and set out two mugs of tea, each with a teabag from your special tin - you’d not touched them in the hopes that you could maybe share the last two with Obi-Wan. You set out a few biscuits each and a sachet of milk, calling out to Obi-Wan to come in, just in time - like you’d predicted.

The door slid open and he walked in. He was puzzled for a moment, you weren’t in the front room. He then heard the familiar sound of water being poured and made his way over to the kitchen.

‘Sit’ you say through the Force to Obi-Wan

He complies, taking one of the filled mugs into his hand. He looks down at it to see what tea you’ve used and is pleasantly surprised to see one of your teabags in there, then his gaze flicks over the milk and biscuits set out…for him. He can’t help the toothy grin that pulls at his face.

‘Thank you’ Obi-Wan praises through the Force.

‘No problem, I saved them for you’ you admit.

“That’s very kind of you,” he says out loud as he removes the Teabag and places it on the napkin you’ve placed on the table before opening the milk sachet and pouring it into the cup, swirling the liquid using the Force instead of a spoon. You do the same before removing the Teabags from the table and placing them in the bin. You come back to an ecstatic Obi-Wan who is trying his best to hide his giddy pleasure of dunking biscuits into tea. Your heart warms at the sight of his childish excitement - an act so common on Earth yet new to this fully grown adult man. You begin running through things to say in your head but you don’t want to ruin this moment. You wished you could picture it somehow; have a permanent physical reminder that this did happen and that you could be happy. That this moment wouldn’t yet again be soured by the painful conversation you are yet to have. Sensing your thoughts, Obi-Wan makes the first move.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan starts. He swirls the cup of tea in front of him nervously, hoping that you wouldn’t chastise him too hard. He had already had it in the ear from Anakin, he didn’t want to hear it from you too.

“I know” you reply, soft and velvety. You take a sip of your tea, trying to calm your nerves. You’d been preparing for this moment all week and yet all you could manage was I know. He was going to need more than that.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Obi-Wan said, placing the mug to his lips and taking a long gulp. You could see the slight tremor in his hands.

“I know” you repeated. You’d known he didn’t mean to hurt you, he was only doing what he thought was right, what the Jedi order wanted him to do. You couldn’t blame him for following the code he had lived his life by.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought that if I denied my feelings and cut you off they would go away, but they haven’t, they’ve only gotten worse.” Obi-Wan admits.

“I know” you say again, taking another sip of tea. You just needed to hear what he had to say, he already knew your feelings - it was his turn to spill.

“Can you stop saying I know! I know you know, you know far much more than when I last saw you…which was too long ago. I…I apologise for—,” Obi-Wan starts, but you quickly interrupt him, not wanting him to run off with his words and make excuses.

"For not coming to see me? It’s ok, I understand.” You say. And you did, he was hurt and just like you, he needed the space to figure things out. You had both been through a world of emotions since your arrival. Space, ironically, was what you needed.

“You—you’re not angry?” Obi-Wan is astounded.

“No, Obi-Wan. I understand why you pushed me away, and really, I’m thankful that you did.” You admit.

“Thankful?” Obi-Wan says dumbfounded. He places the empty mug down on the counter in disbelief, this was completely and utterly not how he expected this conversation to go.

“Yes, it allowed me space to sort through my head and come to terms with what had happened. How I ended up here and what I should do, it also allowed me time to accept that you didn’t feel the same way I felt about you, and that is ok.” You encourage, not holding back and being as honest as you could be. You didn’t want to lie anymore, to hide and pray that he didn’t know how you felt. You’d made it rather clear how you felt, and he’d made it clear he didn’t feel the same, and that’s ok.

Silence engulfed the room. You didn’t need or even want to say anything - totally at peace with what had happened. If you from a year ago could see you now, they’d ask where they had taken the real you, because you know for a fact you have never been so level headed, never been so balanced before. Your time alone with the Force has moulded you into a new, improved version of yourself; a version of you that you are comfortable in, a version of you you have always wanted to be.

“Do you still have those feelings for me?” Obi-Wan practically whispers, cutting through the silence. You didn’t really know how to answer that question. You did have feelings for him, yes, but you also knew that he didn’t return his, or at least that’s what you had initially thought. It comes to you as to exactly why Obi-Wan is now in your quarters, asking you this question. Maybe he has changed his mind, maybe he does—

“Do you?” You return his question with one of your own. If he felt the same way you did, or still do, he needs to be honest and tell you.

Obi-Wan ducks his head, staring into nothing other than the stark white countertop you were both sat at in the kitchen. Silence fills the room again and despite your best efforts you’re becoming a little restless now, the anticipation at what he is to say is eating you from the inside. But you have to give him this, to give him this space. It would be cruel to force or rush him when he is being more open to you than he ever has.

“I made a mistake,” Obi-Wan murmurs. You chuckle at his admission, you’re not surprised by his answer. The sick part of you told you he didn’t feel the same way, and his repeated admission in the fact that having feelings for you was wrong stung. But you hid it well this time, trying to cover your hurt with sarcasm.

“You already told me that,” you look up to him, rolling your eyes as you say it.

“No, no — I mean I made a mistake by pushing you away,” Obi-Wan says seriously. He meets your eyes for a moment and then looks back at whatever he was intently staring at before.

“What do you mean?” You blurt out in response. Your heart is now lodged in your throat, you can feel each beat of anxiety ripple through your couscousness. This conversation is a fucking rollercoaster and you just wished he’d get to the point now.

“I should’ve listened to what the Force was telling me. Before, I followed the code to a T, and I thought I was doing the right thing by obeying the Jedi and refusing that these feelings were meant to be felt, but now, being away from you, feeling so disconnected…I’ve never felt so empty in my life. When you left, I felt like a part of me left with you.” Obi-Wan admits. He grips the cup harshly, and you catch the painful twist his face has pulled at his feelings now being open to the air. He closes his eyes in an attempt to dissociate himself from the reality he finds himself in. You can’t have this, no, he was hurt, and you needed to fix it.

To fix him.

“Oh Obi” you whisper and immediately get up off of your seat. You dart around the corner of the table, coming to a stop and turning him so that you can stand in-between his thighs. His head is dipped, his shoulders tense. You slowly run both hands up his thighs, your presence strong enough to distract him from his thoughts but light enough to soothe; up his torso until your palms are resting on either side of his face. You slowly pull his head up until his deep, cerulean blues meet your own. All you see is a lost, defeated man at battle with his own emotions. How had the Force, the anonymous being he had devoted his life to, his entire being revolving around its will; how had it punished him in such a way? Forced this precious soul to fight battles he could never win, to see atrocities no man should ever have to witness? It was cruel, how he had to face these things, these terrible, terrible things, and yet he was still forced to face them alone. The comfort that is so essential for healing, all but banned and twisted into a farce that all things good for you, things you can take comfort in and distract yourself from, all but lead to this Dark Side the Jedi Code so vehemently represses. And you wonder if this repression of basic function is what causes this split of morality that is so silently feared among Jedi.

Things can only balance if there are two sides to the coin.

There is no fortune without poverty.

There is no anger without peace.

There is no dark without light.

You cannot have one without the other, and it hurt you when you realised that the Jedi, the peacekeepers of the galaxy, the mighty beings that were to represent all that is good, were expected to fight others battle’s without feeling. To be a vessel not only to the Force, but to their own emotions.

To be at peace is to feel. And to feel is to be at peace.

You watch him, still, trying to tell him without words that feeling something of substance is not a crime, and that it will not disrupt the facade of equilibrium he has been convinced is real.

You decided the only way for him to see, is for him to feel.

You let down your barriers, and the floodgates are open. Obi-Wan gasps at the realisation that not only had you been hiding from him so well, but also at the intense emotion, passion and admiration he felt cascading from your signature. It was blinding, yet it wasn’t foreign. He felt these things too, and he caved at the realisation that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to fight this battle by himself, not anymore.

And at this realisation, you caught it. The momentary glint - the spark of midnight blue shooting across his iris’s that signified his understanding, his hope that things didn’t have to be this way. You gaze over his face as the lines of stress slowly ebb away and the serenity you had so closely cherished returns to his blessed features. You grinned, eyes glinting at the new, mortal man that sat before you.

Now you understood the fairytales and mythology of civilisations before you. They spoke of moments like this. Moments where something so foreign and untouchable, so incredibly powerful and methodical still had their flaws, their Achilles heel.

Obi-Wan’s was you, and you, his.

But in each-others weaknesses, you basked in the strength it gifted you. You had no weakness with him, and him with you. You supported one another like day and night, blinding opposites but useless without one another. You needed him to cool your thoughts and your violent emotions, and he needed you to fuel the flame that the tests of war and tragedy tried so hard to extinguish.

Things moved like clockwork now. You met halfway, sealing your admiration with your lips. The sensation was wild, but soothing - like stepping into an open field of grass; lost, yet comfortable, at peace. Your grip on him slowly evolves into something more desperate, wanting him to stay and never leave, to become stuck in this moment. Your hands work their way into his hair and tussle with the longer strands, anchoring yourself to him. This triggers something in Obi-Wan, and the instant you tug at him, he turns feral.

His unbridled passion cannot be held back anymore.

He pushes his hands underneath your thighs, gripping them tightly as he lifts you up to straddle him as he stands up. You squeal at the sudden movement but Obi-Wan kisses you harder, devouring you and distracting you from what was going on around you. He caries you to your bedroom, hands boring into the underside of your thighs in desperation.

He throws you onto the bed and you all but laugh at the sudden switch. The polite mannered Master was no more, this was a different being entirely. But he doesn’t join you like you’d expect, and you watch on confused as his searing gaze scours your body. The long tunic you had put on after showering has ridden up, and now your black laced panties are his to admire.

Obi-Wan paused at the head of the bed, admiring the form before him. This, this what what he wanted. What he needed; you.

You quickly remove the cloak you’d been using as a makeshift blanket, tossing it on the floor. This brings Obi-Wan out of his trance and he practically throws himself at you, eliciting a sweet giggle from your lips. You lock lips again and you feel the energy roaring through you now, the anticipation crackling like lighting at your fingertips.

He slides his calloused, war torn hands underneath the tunic, snaking them closer and closer to your breasts, causing you to arch into his touch in response. You groan, eyes closing in newfound pleasure when his right hand playfully tweaks with your right breast, whilst his other hand smoothes back down your tunic and begins to tug at the hem. You get the silent hint and briefly sit up, giving him space to practically rip the oversized garment off of you in one sweep. You both clash back together with further force, and you deepen your arousal by sliding you tongue over his bottom lip before taking a playful nip.

Obi-Wan’s hands grow restless but you battle for control, using his distracted state to remove his clothing. You both scramble with one another in a blur of lust and before you have time to really acknowledge the situation you find yourself in you're both naked, your hot bodies entwined with one another, moving in unison.

Obi-Wan groans into your neck once more as his erection presses into the inside of your thigh, a growing reminder of his incessant need for you. You twist your head up and push his shoulders, bringing his gaze to you.

“Are you sure, Obi?” You ask through the Force.

“More than anything, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan replies.

You smile at the new pet name and continue kissing as you both grind up against one another, taking your time to explore one another’s body. You take phantom touches to his cock, trying to hide your anxiety at how this was physically going to work. You meant it before when you said the gods had been shining the day he was born. It had been a very, very long time since you had done anything, and considering the Jedi code, you knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t much, if any experience too. You blush at the through that this was his first time, but you're rudely interrupted.

“The Jedi forbid attachments, that doesn’t mean we have to be celibate” Obi-Wan communicated through your bond. You instantly blush at his admission but Obi-Wan chuckles, taking the moment to still and admire your wanton state. Before you can apologise, Obi-Wan is slowly crawling down your body towards your cunt, and once at his intended destination, his hot breathe tickles you. You squirm at his teasing but continue to play into this little game he intends on playing.

“You were reckless today” Obi-Wan teases through the Force.

“You’re a fine one to talk, Master Kenobi” You smirk back.

He growls at your use of formality, that familiar heat you recognise now to be lust burning in his eye. He runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, gripping tightly, taking small bites every few inches. With each bite closer to your now soaked cunt, he bites harder, kissing the sure to bruise teeth marks after each one. This causes a wild moan to bubble in your chest at his incessant teasing.

“Stop teasing” you plead through the bond.

“Pardon?” Obi-Wan replies, mirth all but covering his face.

“Stop teasing, please” you beg.

“Please, who?” Obi-Wan growls into the inside of your thigh, just next the the juncture that joins to your pussy.

You look at him angrily for a second, he is hovering just over your cunt, his gaze locked onto yours and the most gut wrenched mischievous smile tugging at his eyes.

“Please, Master” you finally plead, desperation taking over your patience. You need him to touch you, you can’t hold out anymore. Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything but rewards you by placing a soft kiss on your folds before licking a stripe a lot your cunt, then immediately sucking on your clit, one hand moving up your body to flatten you to the bed as you arch your back out of pleasure, whilst the other begins teasing at your soaking entrance.

You groan loudly in response, your pleasure practically dripping from the lustful song he is ripping from your lips… but he stops, shaking his head slowly.

“Hush now, Darling, don’t want to wake the neighbours” Obi-Wan reprimands through the bond.

You growl at him, staring deadly daggers into those too-pretty-for-their-own-good cerulean blues, but he only smiles and continues his previous movements, teasing with his tongue and fingers in a devilishly sadistic way. He knows he is winding you up and testing your patience, and you should’ve guessed Obi-Wan, of all people, would find a way to teach you a lesson in the patience of a Jedi during a moment like this - ‘he really knew how to pick his moments’ you internally hissed to yourself. His grin grows wider but doesn’t let on that he heard you as he slowly edges two fingers in, instantly finding the magic spot within that you find so very hard to find. Fuck you haven’t felt this good in, well…ever - and the fucker had barely even started. How did he have this effect on you? He knew your body better than you, pressing all the right buttons like he’d memorised their gratifying reactions - but you daren’t complain, oh no; you were going to revel in this moment for as long as you could.

He slowly builds you to the edge, and you have to throw your arm over your mouth to stifle the screams, biting bruises into your own flesh in an effort to prolong the inevitable peak he’s holding you at. You would normally flip out at someone who denied you like this, but you were a masochist for no other than Obi-Wan. You’d do anything for this man right now, and somehow - he knew it, and in a very un-Jedi like way, he was taking full on advantage of your submission to him. But he takes pity, not on you but himself - he can’t hold back the need to give you pleasure, to give you what he so truly wants you to feel, to feel because of him, for him. So he makes you cum, hard.

You are euphoric.

This was more intense than anything you could describe. Your body screamed with a painful pleasure that all but ripped through you, searing but instantly soothing your being with electrifying pulses of luxury. You send your pleasure through the bond you share in the Force and Obi-Wan growls, removing himself from you as his last thread of restraint is all but scorched by your own thrill. He crawls over you and rests above you, just admiring your state for himself. He did this to you. Obi-Wan - he had somehow managed to tame the violent beast that had practically landed before him.

He can’t wait any longer. Seeing you’re still in your euphoric state, he checks in with you, just to make sure that you’re okay.

“Can I” he asks through the Force.

You nod impatiently at him. Yes you were practically high as a kite right now but you were all but screaming for him to fuck you. Obi-Wan gets the hint and slowly edges in, beginning a slow and tantalising pace. He wanted to enjoy this feeling, enjoy being with you. You open up to the Force, reaching across the tether you’ve both rebuilt in your intimacy. You don’t expect him to freeze. He instantly throws his shields up and tenses, his breathing against your neck erratic, panicked.

“Trust me Obi, please” you comfort him through the Force.

“I—I…” He stammers, the physical pleasure he was feeling right now blurring the words he wanted to say.

“Its ok, let me in, I won’t hurt you” you whisper to him, trying your best to comfort him, to show him you mean no harm - you only want to share your pleasure with his, and for him to share his passion with you.

“I don’t want to hurt you” He admits, closing his eyes in an effort to quell the fear that was bubbling in his chest. He hadn’t ever opened up his mind to anyone else. He knew he could control what we wanted you to see, but the risk of you seeing the things he has seen, the fear that you would see what he has gone through and turn to despise him, to hate him, it was a risk he didn’t know if he was prepared to take. Not now, not after he had finally gotten you, not now he was so close to being yours, and you his.

"You could never hurt me Obi, even if you tried. I’ll always be here, for you.” You reassure. You spoke nothing but the truth. You wouldn’t leave him. The last week had been agony - yes you had found peace but that was only a paperweight, a folded page on a chapter you would have to revisit because the pull of the heartache would be too much to leave bare, without conclusion. And Obi-Wan sees this, your complete trust, your honesty and compassion. Your faith, in him.

He lets down his barriers and the lights between you instantly bind. The light was powerful and despite it not being physical you still closed your eyes and squinted away as if it were; the red and blue hues of each of your auras swirling and mixing, testing one another’s presence in their own.

You both indulge in the feeling, and Obi-Wan continues moving into you. You had tried to prepare yourself for how much of a stretch it was going to be, but you had severely underestimated how full he was going to make you feel. With every push of his hips he hit the blinding spot inside you, gradually building the pace until you’re both on the precipice of euphoria. You can feel him resisting, trying to savour the moment as if it will be the last.

“Let go, Obi-Wan” you reassure though the Force.

“Let go with me” He returns, moaning a feral cry when you answer his question with a wild bite to his neck.

You both let go and orgasms rock the both of you. It is purely incredible, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Obi-Wan grunts and you practically scream, not able to hold back the physical intensity of your lustful frenzy. You absentmindedly reach out into the Force to feel his pleasure, but the sight before you catches your breath, holding it tight in your lungs. All you can see is the familiar dream that has plagued you this last week. Dancing in the distance are the beautiful shades of a sunset on a distant shore, your searing red and Obi-Wan's familiar ocean blue meeting in the middle, caressing one another until eventually the sky and sea are a jaded shade of purple, like a sunset on a distant planet of times before. The colours combined from above and below - finally admitting peace with one another as day turns into night, becoming one, forever intertwined.

As you come back to the land of the living you realise you’re both slumped in a heap on the bed, soaked in sweat.

You laugh, and instantly Obi-Wan worries that he’s done something wrong. He turns his head so that it is resting anxiously on your bare chest, his eyes searching yours for his mistake. This causes you to laugh even more.

“What’s so funny?” He mumbles, his anxiety soon turning to frustration at your teasing of him.

“Nothing,” you manage in between giggles, but the stern look he tries to give you only sets you off and Obi-Wan looks more disgruntled at the secret joke you’re hiding from him. You shake your head in a playful way and stroke his hair to reassure him before slowly getting up off the bed.

“Im going to need another shower now,” You snicker to him as you walk towards the fresher. You don’t hear him move so you stop in the doorway, turning your head over your shoulder as you address him, “Care to join?”

“Always, sweetheart.” Obi-Wan replies through the Force as he scrambles like a kid on Christmas after you into the fresher. You didn’t need to ask twice.

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imo-chan-imagines · 4 years

Text

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 7 』

· Oct. 1st → Fly! ·

Characters: (teams) Karasuno, Nekoma, Fukurodani, Aoba Johsai, Shiratorizawa, (indiv.) Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Aone Takanobu

Prompts: A. free choice!

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), Among Us (video game), PG, fluff, crack, video games, video game violence/death, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: Among Us is a bit of a hot meme at the moment (great game. Go and play it/watch other people play it if you can. Get a feel for the game if you somehow haven't already.) So I thought, 'Hey, why not?' I mean, I do need to heal my heart after my Day 6 post, so...

What an amazing week it's been! Well done, everyone! All of my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts are SFW, but there's a little treasure trove of NSFW on my blog, too. Please peruse to your heart's content. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy! ♡

Haikyuu boys / playing Among Us

☆ Karasuno ☆

Literally the loudest games you'll ever witness

You know that grainy, electronic crackle that happens when everybody yells on Discord at the same time? Yeah. That

Kageyama can't lie for shit. It's so obvious when he's lying that it's a genuine miracle if he doesn't immediately get ejected

And he stands in all the wrong places when he's faking doing his tasks 😭😭

But he sounds super suspicious when he's telling the truth, too 😅

Noya and Tanaka buddy up no matter what, and go around trying to clear or murder people together

They also end up fuelling each other's incorrect assumptions

Asahi is way too timid to murder anyone right away, so if nobody dies in the first two rounds, you know it's him or someone trying to frame him...

Daichi is the host and tries to keep order in the lobby...tries someone help him

Hinata: Guys, please stop swearing! Natsu is watching me play!! waahhh 🙈 so cute 😇

Hinata always has to be orange. Don't touch his orange

Ennoshita is the king of self-reporting and getting away with it it just be like that

Kageyama goes around called 'Milk' 🥛

Tsukki tries to big-brain the shit out of it 🤣

He's also hella manipulative as an imposter and refuses to kill Yamaguchi 😭

Suga likes to take out the oxygen/recator and lie in wait for the people who come to fix it he will giggle adorably when it ends up working, which sounds kinda pshyco, ngl 😂

But totally screams at his screen when someone he suspected sneaks up on him and kills him

Yamaguchi low-key prefers the mini games to the actual game 😭😭

And Yachi loves being pink and wearing the little flower in her hair ngl, she nearly fainted the first time she got killed

She doesn't play with them often because it's so loud 😬

☆ Nekoma ☆

Kenma streams the gaming sessions on Twitch, and now they kind of have a cult following 🤷‍♀️

These fans be thirsting hard, too like us

Check out my smut headcanons, y'all 🙌

Kuroo is the closest to a genius player you're ever going to see

He does his tasks fairly efficiently, he's good at remembering layouts and people's movements, he calculates the timings of his kills with terrifying accuracy, defends himself pretty well, whether he's lying or not, can gaslight the entire lobby into sussing an innocent person, and pieces together other people's lies with surprising ease

Do not cross Kuroo. He's scary at this game. He's not the Scheming Captain for nothing, y'all

Lev is the kind of person to vent right in front of someone by accident, which is so awkward, but so funny 😂

The entire team must wear the bear ears hat. Yes, that is a rule

It's the closest to cat ears they have right now....

Kenma is pretty quiet when he's playing. He doesn't normally play online games, but his streams took off on Twitch, sooo~

Kenma also has radar ears and can somehow detect when people are lying, but waits until he has proof to accuse them he smart 🤓

☆ Fukurodani ☆

'Whoever Talks the Loudest is Right' mentality 😂

And Bokuto will defend himself at the volume of an air raid siren

Akaashi stays as quiet as possible so he doesn't give anything away

When Bokuto starts sussing people, it turns into something out of Ace Attorney like, chill tf out, man 😂

But his guesses are normally completely wrong

Akaashi sets good parameters for the games, because he's sensible

If Bokuto is given the chance to host the lobby....he will set one task each, put everyone at 4x speed, give the imposter zero cooldown time, and sit back and watch the chaos

Whenever somebody doesn't have an absolutely airtight alibi–

Bokuto: That's hella sus, bro

Lots of childish nicknames, because...well, they're all mentally six years old

Except Akaashi, who has a higher mental age than all of them combined

Let me just say that when Bokuto and Kuroo play together, shit gets so funny

When one of them is an imposter, they will literally vent in front of the other one and trust them not to out them 😂😂

☆ Aoba Johsai ☆

Iwa-chan can always tell when Oikawa is lying, and constantly calls him out on it

Iwa: That's his lying voice. Shitty-kawa is lying. He's the imposter. Vote him off

Oikawa: IWAAA-CHAAAN D:<

Because Iwa's right about Oikawa when he is the imposter, it makes it easy to frame him when it's actually Iwa who's the imposter

And no-one believes Tooru 😭😭

Kyoutani has no chill as an imposter

He just murders everyone on sight, right in front of people, too

Kindaichi tends to accuse people with very little evidence, but his instincts are weirdly accurate

Oikawa gets killed almost immediately every game, so if he isn't dead two emergency meetings in, he's 100% an imposter 😭😭

He then goes around as a salty ghost when he's killed off, mumbling to himself about injustice as he refuses to do his tasks and watches the people who voted him off get murdered one by one

Not that anyone's holding a grudge 🙄😂

Oikawa refuses to be purple and always kills whoever is purple first because it reminds him of Ushijima 😭😭

☆ Shiratorizawa ☆

Ushijima refuses to play if he can't be purple give it back. N O W

And it takes him a long time to get used to the game and the rules

'Why are the lights off? What are these tasks? Why is that one flashing at me? Where is med bay? Why can I use this vent? What's this big, red button for?' etc.

You get the idea. Toshi = big noob

He doesn't really understand the concept of lying, either...

He keeps forgetting to mute himself and ends up saying some very incriminating stuff over the mic which has everyone in literal tears from laughter

Tendou is a sneaky S.O.B, using those vents like a pro and gaslighting perfectly innocent people he's a little bloodthirsty, too 🤫

And his initial guesses about who's the imposter are almost always 100% correct Guess Monster, y'all

Goshiki goes around trying to clear people by watching them doing their tasks, especially Ushijima

But then he gets called suspicious for hanging around people too much

The first time an emergency meeting was ever called, Ushijima literally asked "Why is my name in red?" much to everyone's amusement

Everyone's scared of Ushijima when he follows them, but it normally turns out that he just doesn't know where he's going

Shirabu tends to lose his shit when people start accusing him and he's innocent, and will never EVER trust a word that comes out of Goshiki's mouth

Speaking of, Goshiki and Shirabu – boy, do they bicker like eight year-olds, wasting entire voting rounds just arguing with each other 🙄😭

So everyone else decides to vote off one, and then the other at the next meeting 😭😭

Misc.

☆ The Miya twins ☆

Atsumu puts 100% trust in Osamu not to kill him, even if he is the imposter

How could he? He's his brother. His twin. His other half. They share a unique bond–

And then he screams in betrayal when Osamu slaughters him mercilessly 😂😂

Osamu is unaffected by the sudden outburst from his brother's room

Put them together as an imposter duo, though, and you're in for some trouble

They often win by executing a perfect double kill

And they're both pretty good at lying, but Osamu will not hesitate to throw Atsumu under the bus and vote him off if he's being too suspicious or the lobby has turned against him 😂

Ah, the bond of brotherhood 😂

☆ Aone Takanobu ☆

Aone doesn't talk very much

But when he does, his voice is so low and even that nobody ever suspects he's the imposter

I'm thinking like Corpse Husband, if you've seen him playing with Pewds and the gang

It doesn't really occur to people that he could be lying. He seems so trustworthy and honest

Finds it very hard to blame anyone else, though

Is fairly decent as doing his tasks as a crewmate, but it takes him a long time to remember the layouts of the ships

Almost never gets voted off the ship

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maddiewritesstucky · 4 years

Text

Call me maybe (but only during business hours)

A smutty gift for @raynakiasbel, for her endless patience with my infuriatingly slow writing and inability to focus on one thing at a time!

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3308

Tags: CEO Steve, College Student Bucky, Poorly-Timed Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Light Daddy Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones

Part 1 of the SugarVerse series on Ao3

Bucky is most definitely not watching the clock.

His eyes have absolutely not been glued to the LED display on the bedside table for what feels like a hundred goddamn years, watching the little white lines form number after number, blinking their way into the formation that will mean he can pick up his phone, and call Steve.

That would be all kinds of pathetic, and Bucky is not that kind of boyfriend.

He’s certainly not the kind of boyfriend who’s already fixing to climb out of his skin on day three (three!) of Steve’s out-of-town business trip. Bucky is one of those autonomous, self-sufficient boyfriends, who is entirely too busy with his own obscenely full schedule to care about the fact that he’s not getting dicked down at his every whim this week.

He has midterms to study for, and hours to log at StarkTech to go towards his internship, and Nat’s surprise birthday party to plan even though she’s literally impossible to surprise…he doesn’t have the mental real estate to spare on thirst right now. He might have become a whole other kind of hoe since being exposed to the many splendors of Steve Rogers’ cock, but twitching for it before they’ve even hit the seventy-two hour mark?

That would be highly problematic, if that was happening.

Which it isn’t.

Bucky is well accustomed to flying solo when Steve’s off in corporate alter-ego mode; he’s done this countless times over the past few months since he moved in with Steve, and he’d made his peace with it long before that. You don’t couple up with the CEO of an internationally renowned architecture firm and expect to see his face at the dinner table every night, and for the most part, Bucky has no complaints about having the stupidly plush bed all to his starfishing self a few nights a month.

It’s just...there’s a method to this, usually. And that method does not involve three entire days of near radio silence.

When Steve goes away, even on his busier trips, he always finds time to call Bucky at least once a day, even if it’s just five minutes as he’s crawling into bed to say goodnight. They’ll text, and Steve will send emails that are endearingly formal because his brain tends to stay in CEO-mode 24/7 when he’s on business trips, and they’ll generally tide one another over with tidbits of cyber-affection until they get back in the same physical space.

But this time? They’ve hardly been in contact at all. And it’s on Bucky, too, at least in part - he’s been swamped with his own workload the past few weeks, struggling to find quality time or head space even in the few days just before Steve left, and all they’ve managed so far is a few sporadic messages in their rare moments of down-time, which have so far been chaotically misaligned.

It’s been a drag, if Bucky’s honest, and he can occupy himself all he wants with his exam prep and his party-plotting, but at the end of the day…

Bucky’s just a boy, laying in front of a clock, asking his dick to hold out just a few more minutes.

Because right now, it’s 10:42pm.

It’s 10:42pm, which means that in exactly three minutes, Steve will be sliding into the crisp white sheets of whatever lavish hotel bed he’s being put up in; buck-ass naked because he’s as stringent on his no-pyjamas policy as he is on his bed time, and in exactly three minutes…

Bucky’s gonna call him, and phone-fuck the soul right out of his offensively perfect body.

He flips onto his back and nestles into the pillows, a dumb grin already fixing to his face in his hormone-fuelled stupor. The lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows bathe his naked skin in soft orange-gold, and his hand migrates of its own accord to the semi he’s been rocking ever since it occurred to him that he could just straight up call Steve and spring a jerk-sesh on him.

The whole thing feels deliciously sneaky-skanky. He’s never done this before, just cold-called Steve with an x-rated agenda. They’ve had phone sex before, a great many times in fact, but there’s always a lead-in; a text exchange turned sordid that spirals into a video call straight out of Bucky’s horny teenage fantasies.

But he’s never gone in jizz-first, ask-questions-later, and as certain as he is that Steve will be entirely on board, it feels just risky enough to have Bucky a little high off the adrenaline of it.

Here lies Bucky, Queen of the Sluts! Stretched out bare atop cream colored sheets, lit up by the New York skyline! Dick in hand and filth on the tip of his tongue!

He is power! He is scandal! He is ready for this!

He pulls the lube out from its hiding place under the pillow and slicks himself up, stroking slow as he tries to summon some small measure of nonchalance about the whole thing. He has a vision for how he wants this to go, and it does not involve him losing his cool the second he hears Steve’s voice on the other end of the line.

This is about seduction, about surprising Steve with some old-school nasty, no video or visuals involved - just Bucky’s filthy mouth and vivid imagination, and he’s determined to keep it together long enough to paint Steve a picture he can jack it to.

He pulls up Steve’s contact and waits out the final torturous minute with his heart in his throat, hitting the call button the second it ticks over to go-time. He hits the speakerphone button, dropping the phone onto the pillow next to him, and holds his breath through the four rings it takes for Steve to pick up.

“...James?”

And oh, but that bodes well...Steve uses his real name in two contexts, and two contexts only - when Bucky visits him at work and he’s in business mode, and when he’s got Bucky flat on his back underneath him, letting him have it.

If Steve’s already keyed up tonight? This just got a lot more interesting.

“Mm, there it is,” Bucky heaves a deep sigh, “that’s what I needed, that voice...”

His mind’s eye conjures up visions of Steve spread out across the bed, taut lines of muscle and bare flesh all laid out. He’s probably just had a shower, so his skin would be all warm and pink, smelling like soap and aftershave; his hair all fluffy from that irreverent way he has of rubbing it towel-dry...god, Bucky misses him.

“James? Are you alright?”

He can practically hear Steve’s brows drawing together in that way they do when he’s overworked; a tight-wound tension in his voice that Bucky has every confidence he can allay before the night’s through.

“Mm, be a lot better if it was your hand wrapped around my cock right now,” Bucky drawls, rolling his body for his audience of no one, “but I guess I’ll just have to settle for fucking my fist to the sound of your voice. Can you hear me touching myself, Daddy?”

He breathes a soft groan as he strokes himself slick and languid, and Steve is silent for a long moment that Bucky’s brain is all too happy to color in with pornographic images of how Steve might be listening; where his hands might be wandering, how his cock would be filling at the mental picture Bucky’s painting. Bucky thinks this might just be the best idea he’s ever had, and he doesn’t hold back on letting Steve hear exactly how good he’s feeling about his decision...

...Until Steve clears his throat, and unceremoniously hits him with an ice-cold dousing of you-done-fucked-up.

“I’m in a meeting right now, I have two clients with me.”

There is zero inflection in his tone, and if Bucky thought he had experienced true panic before, he was mistaken. He can physically feel himself paling; his mouth dropping open soundlessly, humiliation warring with plain confusion as to why the hell Steve is still working at this ridiculous hour.

And then it clicks.

Horribly, harrowingly clicks.

Steve isn’t working at stupid o’clock at night.

In the perpetual haze of Bucky’s overworked brain and Steve’s ever-changing schedule, Bucky had forgotten that this trip was taking Steve to Hawaii.

For Steve, it isn’t slutty phone-sex hours. It’s very sensible, 4:45pm strictly-business hours.

“Ohmygod,” Bucky gasps, bolting upright and looking desperately around the room like it might hold the solution to his colossal screw up, “Steve, I completely forgot--”

“Mr Barnes, I can give you exactly two minutes of my time right now because I realize it’s been difficult to touch base recently,” Steve interrupts, his tone cooling abruptly with the air of professional detachment and veiled authority Bucky’s heard him use on work calls a thousand times. “Can you tell me exactly what the issue is with the redesign?”

...Bucky blinks, breath caught in his throat as he scrambles to string together some sense from Steve’s response.

Steve hasn’t mentioned any specific projects lately, is Bucky supposed to know something about a redesign? Was there something he--

Oh.

His brain and his dick catch on at the same time in a borderline painful rush of blood. He hears Steve pull back from the phone to address his clients, placating them with an apology and the assurance that this won’t take long, and Jesus Christ...Steve is actually doing this.

Steve is actually going to let this happen, going to let Bucky have one-sided phone sex with him while he sits there in some boardroom, with actual clients sitting right in front of him.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a rush as he drops back against the pillows and wraps a frantic hand around himself. “The issue is you’ve been gone three fucking days and I wanna sit on your face.”

“Mm, I see why that’s problematic,” Steve muses, cool and unaffected, “what exactly do you need from me?”

God, Bucky can just picture it - Steve sitting there looking like a fucking wet dream in one of his distractingly well-fitting suits, with his hair swept perfectly over and his beard trimmed just close enough to show off the sharp cut of his jaw; radiating that air of quiet authority that makes Bucky want to bounce in his lap until he dies...

Bucky knows for a fact that Steve’s face will be betraying precisely none of what’s happening on the other end of the line, and why the hell is that such a turn on?

“Well I was gonna describe in graphic detail all the things I want you to do to me when you get back,” Bucky huffs, breaths coming faster already, “but if I’m on the clock now, guess I’ll have to settle for sayin’ I need you to bring that dick home ASAP...fuckin’ miss it.”

“I see,” Steve sighs, “well I’m not back in New York for a few days yet, how do you plan to manage this in the interim?”

Bucky curses under his breath, tightening his grip on himself. “Just have to fuck myself, imagine it’s you.” He sounds every bit as unconvinced of the efficacy of this plan as they both know he is, and Steve hums thoughtfully in response.

“I’m going to need more detail, paint me a picture here.”

Bucky knows he’s blushing, feels the heat of it all the way down his chest, and fuck this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Dirty talking at Steve and getting nothing back but clipped responses, void of emotion and the usual undercurrent of affection he’s become accustomed to?

Work-Steve needs to come to the bedroom more often.

“I’ll touch myself, like I’m doing right now,” he twists his grip a little on the upstroke, hissing at the change in sensation, “get my fist all wet and tight around my cock...pretend it’s your mouth.”

How close are Steve’s clients sitting to him? Steve wouldn’t be letting this happen if there was any way they could hear...but what if one of them has some kind of medical condition that gives them enhanced hearing? What if one of them can read minds and is hearing this entire conversation play out in stereo quality in their head?

Why is there a part of Bucky that hopes one or both of those things are true?!

“...And?” Steve prompts, almost brusque, and Bucky gives himself a second to revel in the way his dick twitches for the hard edge in Steve’s voice.

“And I’ll, fuck- ” Bucky stutters, rocking his hips with the rhythm of his strokes, pushing himself up through his grip, “I’ll use my toys, fingerfuck myself.”

“Right, well why don’t you go ahead and start that for me now,” Steve says, off-hand; pulling back from the phone to place an honest-to-god coffee order with the oblivious intern who’s now seemingly in the room too, and Bucky’s never felt more of an affinity for the whole bored-and-ignored thing.

He slicks up the fingers of his free hand and shifts a little onto his side, hiking a knee up as he slips a finger inside himself.

“Can I take that as a yes, Mr Barnes?” Steve asks at the breathy moan Bucky lets out as he presses in first with one, and then with two fingers, and Bucky nods frantically even though Steve can’t see him.

“Yes, fuck...I'm doin' it...feels so fucking good, Steve.”

And it does. It’s a difficult angle, and he can't quite hit the spot he wants to inside himself, but the steady stroke-tug against his rim while his fist flies over his cock is working for him; winding him towards what would, in any other non time-constrained circumstance, be an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He can hear Steve shuffling papers, making quiet sounds of agreement along with whatever conversation is going on in the background between his clients whilst they wait, unknowing, and Bucky can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or an immense disappointment that Steve has to bite his tongue right now; that he can’t unleash any of the filth he’d definitely be spitting if he didn’t have an audience.

Steve fucking loves to run his mouth, and Bucky loves to hear it; lives for the endlessly colorful obscenities Steve comes out with in the throws of it.

Just listen to you, he’d be laughing a little; his voice dripping with that indulgent, self-satisfied grin he gets, so goddamn easy for it, ain’t that right baby? Three fuckin’ days and you’re gagging for it...should be ashamed of yourself…

But Steve is in a very public forum right now, in the middle of a meeting no less, trying to give the impression that he’s very decidedly not having phone sex. Right now, he’s Steve Rogers - CEO, consummate professional.

But he is also an asshole, and when he asks Bucky “do you feel you have a firm grasp on the situation, or would a second set of hands be helpful on this one?” Bucky swears he can hear that faint hint of a smirk all the way across the fucking country.

“Might just have to go find myself a second set of hands if you stay away too long,” Bucky retorts, emboldened by the distance, and a little morbidly curious to see what sassing gets him when Steve can’t say shit about it.

Turns out, what it gets him is a full-body shiver and a throb between his thighs as Steve’s tone dips to somewhere in the realm of politely-veiled threat. “I would not advise that, Mr Barnes.”

It occurs to Bucky, then, that this won’t just be done and dusted once they hang up. At the end of the week, Steve will come back to New York, and he will absolutely have some Things To Say about this little interruption.

He can picture it now, the way Steve will stand there all calm, staring him down with his mouth upticked at the corner while Bucky fumbles his way through an explanation.

He’ll probably do that thing where he doesn’t say much but his eyes say everything, and Bucky will have to try really hard to seem remorseful even though they’ll both know he’s not actually all that sorry. And Steve won’t want him to be, not really, but it’ll be something he can use to their mutual benefit, nonetheless.

Fuck, Steve might spank him.

Bucky smothers a moan into the pillow next to him, twisting his fingers inside himself and brushing his thumb across the head of his cock as he turns that thought over, Steve bending him over his knee, or better yet, over his desk...

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, a sudden rush of heat twisting tight in his gut, “fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Steve huffs a vaguely incredulous laugh, and there’s a faint creaking sound like he’s settling further back in his chair. “Oh really? Who authorized that?”

Bucky lets out a deeply undignified whine, his whole body strung tight enough to snap; caught between the sensations of his hand moving frantically over his dick and his fingers scissoring inside himself.

“Come on,” he whimpers, teetering on the knife edge of losing it, “tell me I can finish, please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oh, fuck him, fuck him...how is he still edging Bucky when he was the one who put the rush order on this?

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky doesn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice as he changes tact, “if you don’t authorize this orgasm I think I’m gonna go blind, just fucking let me come!”

Steve pauses a beat, humming a considering sound. “No, I’m not comfortable signing off on that. We’re tabling this until I get back to New York.”

Bucky freezes, both hands stilling; his face crumbling into a mask of abject disbelief. “You can’t be serious?” His stomach drops, even as something in the back of his mind says he really should have seen this coming...or, not coming, as is the case.

“I'm sure we can come to a far more satisfying resolution in person,” Steve says, maddeningly cavalier.

Bucky’s gearing up to plead his case, but Steve’s not done ruining his night yet.

“In fact, Mr Barnes,” he piles on, “I’d like to make you personally responsible for ensuring no further action is taken on the matter until I return. Can I trust you with this?”

Bucky gapes down at his poor, oblivious cock still standing at eager attention in his grasp, unaware of the disaster that’s just befallen them, and he takes his hands off himself with a pained groan.

“This is criminal,” he objects, flopping heavily onto his back and throwing his arms out to his sides, “if my dick falls off, it’s your fault!”

“Great! Glad to hear it,” Steve chirps, as if he's not the worst person alive, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Whatever,” Bucky scowls at the shadows stretching across the ceiling, willing his mind off the throbbing ache of injustice between his thighs, “I’m totally not answering any of your calls.”

Steve’s smile bleeds into his tone a little when he responds, the closest he’s come to fondness yet. “Okay, speak soon, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky tries, really tries, to inject some petulance into his tone as he signs off with a grumbled “love you, I guess,” but he can’t quite bring himself to sulk as much as he feels the situation warrants.

After all, in exactly four days, Steve will come back to New York.

He’ll come home, and they’ll laugh about this, and in exactly four days…

Steve will make him forget what he was even upset about in the first place.

(Part 2 of the series here!)

#steve/bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve x bucky #stucky fanfic #ao3 stucky #daddy steve rogers

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itsscrystal · 3 years

Text

One shot: Three is the magic number.

Osamu x fem!reader

a/n: idk if this makes sense but suddenly this came out?? hopefully it doesn’t seem as bad

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of someone dying, but it’s a happy ending at the end so...

summary: is Osamu a lucky man? while he couldn’t end up with [l/n] [y/n] for the first two lives, maybe things would be better for his third life. afterall, three is the magic number, right?

ONE

Osamu never knew he could be so lucky.

To be able to marry the love of his life, [l/n] [y/n]. Their families have always been close. One day, their parents have decided that uniting the two prestigious families, Miya and [l/n], would be a good idea. Hence the arranged marriage between their two youngest children— Miya Osamu and [l/n] [y/n].

This wedding felt like a dream. He was so happy that he could finally stop hiding his blush whenever he saw her. To be able to stand next to her, not as her friend, but as her husband.

When he took a sip of sake with [y/n], love in his eyes, he was already looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her. He knew, this moment where they both made eye contact shyly over the rim of the cup, will be etched in his mind forever.

One moment. He didn’t know what happened. He only knew he blinked his eyes, at the same time admiring [y/n]’s flutter of eyelashes, when the bright orange flames licked her and everywhere.

“F-Fire! Put it out!” His twin’s panicked voice reached him. His hands let go of the wooden cup as he raced to save his beloved.

Orange. It was all he could see. Where is everyone? Why can’t he see anyone? Where is his wife?

He could only feel intense heat burning around him as he reached out in the direction of his love. Relief flowed in his veins as he felt one hand clutching his.

“[y/n]-sama? Is that you?” Osamu cried. Moving closer, he realised it was not her, but his twin. “We gotta go! `Samu, hurry!” Atsumu tugged on his hand. “B-But [y/n]-sama?” “Save yer life first! We can talk about her later!” Choking on the smoke burning on the wood of the shrine, he was dragged through the flames unwillingly, his hoarse voice calling for her.

It was only later when he was away from the site he looked hard for [y/n]. No, no, where is she! Fear fuelling his heavy legs, he ran back towards the flaming shrine, only to see a glimpse of [y/n] in it.

She didn’t make it.

“NO!” Osamu screamed and was about to take another step when he felt his twin pulling him back. “Yer not going back! I will not let ya die!”

I love you.

That was all Osamu could see on her face as she slowly disappeared from sight.

No, no…

“They’ve tried. They told us that there’s no way they can go back and save [y/n]-sama too. The fire was too big then. `Samu, I-I’m sorry for yer lost…”

Osamu never knew he could be so unlucky.

TWO

Osamu never knew he could be so lucky.

What are the odds that his best friend, [l/n] [y/n] would kiss her? None. Unless she’s in love with him too.

Osamu tried to quieten the pounding of his heart as he looked at the now-knocked-out girl. Earlier during the evening, as both their parents are out for a business trip, his brother, Atsumu, has decided to invite their friend over for dinner. As well as to raid the expensive cabinet of liquor at home.

Looking at his twin lying on the couch, dead to the world, he decided to just leave him there and carried [y/n] into his bedroom. Technically, he shares his bedroom with `Tsumu, but now it’s just HIS room.

I want to sleep on my bed too… I’ll just put her on `Tsumu’s bed. For a while.

Next morning, he woke up to two people talking. With his eyes shut, he decided to eavesdrop a little.

“[y/n]! So you’re here after all!”

“`Tsumu? Oh my god I actually slept on your bed I’msorryI’msorry—”

“Why are yer sorry? I like it.”

“Huh?”

“I mean it. I like seeing ya on my bed. I’ve been wanting to tell ya this for a while. I think I like you, [y/n].”

“Damn, luckily I’m not the only one. Dummy, I love ya too.”

What’s going on..?

“I thought you liked `Samu…?”

“What? I know both of ya look the same, but I like you. Not `Samu. Well… Unless you don’t like me…”

“No! I like yer too! A lot!”

Osamu was glad he chose to face the wall instead of `Tsumu’s bed. Because he could not stop tears from leaking out of his eyes.

Osamu never knew he could be so unlucky.

THREE

Osamu wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not.

Having a twin that has an identical face as him, seemed to bring more trouble than he wants.

Firstly, it did not help that his twin, Atsumu, was known for his bad boy reputation in school. This made teachers mistake him as his brother. Hence, he was often scolded and targetted by many of them.

<Well, while Atsumu was the residential bad boy, Osamu was the shyer, quieter twin that has way better grades and conduct. Pity people can’t seem to differentiate both of them, despite the very obvious difference in hair colour. He thought that if he could convince `Tsumu to bleach his hair piss-yellow, things might change. Apparently not.>

Secondly, of course his brother’s girls kept finding him. He’s tired of telling people repeatedly that No, I didn’t sleep with you last night. No, I’m not Miya Atsumu, but his twin Miya Osamu. No, I’m not interested in that. Yes, I like staying normal. If only people can just leave him alone! Or maybe stop identifying him as his brother.

While he loves his brother a lot, this is starting to become annoying and bothersome.

So his response to the girl was “No, I’m not Miya Atsumu. Please go away.” when she came to him and proclaimed her love for him. “I know?” She replied in confusion, head tilted to one side.

“Yep. You must’ve gotten the wrong Miya twin. That’s right. Good bye.” Placing his books neatly into his bag, he quickly grabbed it and left the library. Sheesh, can’t he get a little break from all the annoying girls? He just wants to study and get a nice grade for the test tomorrow!

“I mean, I know. That you’re Miya Osamu, not Miya Atsumu. Both of you have different hair colours. I have eyes that are working fine, okay?”

Osamu was surprised. Okay, someone finally identifying the right guy. “Uh, so what did you say earlier?”

She huffed in annoyance. “That my name is [l/n] [y/n] and I LIKE YOU. I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU.” Osamu wasn’t sure how to reply to her confession. Not like he had much experience with this kind of thing. “Uh… Okay? What do I say next?”

“...”

Osamu nervously pushed up his glasses that are beginning to slip down his nose. “I-I mean...”

“Let’s be friends?” [y/n] finally spoke. Osamu couldn’t help but shiver a little. When did her voice sound so good? “O-Okay.” Osamu nodded and then exchanged numbers with her. Maybe she'll be my study partner. It’s kind of lonely to study alone.

•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•

“And that’s it.” Osamu said. “What? Are ya serious? Lame!” His twin, Atsumu cried. “Ya need to bring her to a date. Ya can’t meet up just to study!”

“But all I do is study…” Osamu muttered. “What am I supposed to do…?”

“Easy! The movies!” “`Tsumu the last time I went to watch a movie I slept through it as I finished the popcorn.”

Atsumu was stuck. He wasn’t sure what to tell his brother. What he usually does can’t really be applied to Osamu. “Do ya like her though? Are there any feelings? Any spark?” “Are ya stupid? This ain’t some fairytale.” “Don’t ignore my question! Hey why are you hitting me with your pillow? Wait yer blushing—”

•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•

Osamu had decided to meet up with [y/n] again. This time, he decided to listen to his twin’s suggestion. Watch a movie. Yes. A movie.

Breathe in, breathe out. You will not sleep during the movie. Eat your popcorn slowly. Or drink water. Yes. You’ve brought two litres of water for this.

“I’m here!”

Osamu unconsciously smiled as he looked at his phone. Wait, why is he smiling at your text?

Looking around, he spotted [y/n] and took a moment to admire her. In a pink sweater and jeans, she’d never looked so good to him. Is it her fashion? Maybe that’s why she looks so good now.

He was about to wave and call her name when he saw a flash of piss-yellow colour. His brother, the more popular twin, Atsumu walked towards her and slung an arm around her shoulders. “What’s a pretty girl like ya doing here without a date? Your name’s [y/n], right?”

Osamu wanted to turn around and walk back to the campus. Maybe he should just text her and tell her he’s not feeling well…

“Sorry, Atsumu-san, can you remove your arm? I feel quite uncomfortable like that.” [y/n] boldly pushed his arm away before continuing, “well, I’m meeting Osamu-san. Do you know where is he? He hasn't replied to my text yet.”

“Are ya serious? He actually agreed to this? He hates—” “Hiya [y/n]-san.” Osamu decided to intervene before Atsumu could continue. “`Samu! It’s her? Oh my gosh FINALLY.” “Huh?” Both Osamu and [y/n] stared at Atsumu in confusion. “Nothing!”

“Oh! [y/n]-san do you want to go on a date with me? `Cause I’ve never seen anyone so pretty~” Atsumu suddenly asked. Osamu had never wanted to hit Atsumu so much. That jerk even winked at her cheekily and had flipped on what Osamu mentally called the flirting switch.

“Uh Atsumu-san…”

Osamu was panicking inside. Maybe [y/n] had given up on him and not liked him anymore. No! He was planning to—

“No thanks but she’s with me because I like her too just like how she likes me so now scram before I punch you you knew she’s the one I liked how can you `Tsumu I’m even willing to watch a movie like a movie and not study—”

“Woah! Woah. I didn’t know ya could speak so much `Samu! I was just joking ya know…”

“So you like me too?” [y/n] tugged on his sleeve and asked. “I-I…” Osamu couldn’t stop the flush on his face. Oh my god why did I choose this time to confess this is not what I’ve planned…

“Well, I’ve got to say, unlike you, I do not like her that way. So hurry up and say yes you idiot!” Atsumu whined and stomped his feet impatiently. “Yeah… I like you too [y/n].” Osamu replied and then tugged her into his arms. “So, uh, what movie are we— I mean just ME and [Y/N]— watching again?”

“Okay, I got the hint. I’m leaving y’all now! Have a good date~” Atsumu rolled his eyes and then screeched “`Samu REMEMBER TO KISS HER AFTERWARDS OKAY”

“SHUT UP YOU PISS HEAD” Osamu shouted.

Well, one is sure: at the end of the movie, Osamu had a girlfriend— [y/n].

Hmm… Well, Osamu can consider himself a lucky man, I guess.

THE END

“Aww… At least the guy got to be with the girl! Like in his third life,” Komori Motoya sighed and then gasped. “Wait! Miya-san! Look! He looks a bit like you!”

“HUH?” Miya Atsumu, one of the setters invited to the All-Japan Youth Camp, screeched. “From what you’ve just said, are you cursing me?”

“No! I’m just stating a comment. The image the author attached at the end of the story features the guy and girl in the story. Apparently she drew this up and said that she imagined them looking like that.”

“Hmm… It looks a little like Miya-san but not really. The hair colour isn’t piss-coloured…” Kageyama muttered.

Unfortunately, Atsumu heard that. “Oi! Tobio-kun, you’ll hurt my feelings like that! My hair colour is the definition of cool and beautiful. It’s not that bad!” Coming closer to peer over Komori’s shoulder, he squinted at the phone screen. “You’re right… He does look like me… But since it’s such a sad story, I’m going to say it’s `Samu! Not me!”

“Who?” Komori asked.

“`Samu. The obviously not-so-cool twin. Here’s a picture.”

“You sure he’s not as cool? To be honest, his hair colour is nicer than yours…” Kageyama frowned.

“Tobio-kun! Not you too!”

“See? That’s why I rather talk to the other Miya and not you, Miya.” Sakusa Kiyoomi’s voice could be heard as clear as day, even though he was standing ten metres away from everyone.

“Hey! Not you too Omi-kun!”

“And I’ve said not to call me that, Miya.”

a/n: in case y’all are still confused: the story about Osamu is actually a story Komori read online. thank you for reading this !! likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya twins #komori motoya #sakusa kiyoomi #kageyama tobio #oneshot #fluff #angst #itsscrystal

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isis-astarte-diana · 4 years

Text

But None, I Think, Do There Embrace (Part 2)

Part 1 ‖ Part 2

Summary: “The sight of Missy, conscious and walking, shakes loose a deep breath you didn’t realise you were holding.” The conflict isn’t over when the gun goes off.

Warnings: None? Unresolved tension, mostly!

Word Count: 1815

NB: The promised continuation of “The Grave’s A Fine And Private Place”!

“Please, please work!”

The TARDIS hums softly in an inarticulate but clear expression of disagreement. The screen you clutch at with shaking hands remains a blurry mess of jumping pixels, the sound a warbled static hiss. You have no insight into what’s happening on the bridge.

Before you’d even glimpsed the creatures in the lifts, the ship had slammed her doors so hard that you were knocked backwards and off your feet, landing painfully on the metal floor. When you’d scrambled back up and tried to open them again, they wouldn’t budge. You still know precious little about how she functions, but it’s apparent that she’s determined to keep her human cargo safe from whatever wants to take them away.

“Siege mode,” Nardole points out unhelpfully, still fiddling with the console. “Hostile life forms detected on the bridge. No communications in or out. Your life signs are shielded, at least.”

White-knuckled on the handrail, you glance around desperately for inspiration. “We can’t just wait here!”

“I know,” Bill groans, head bowed and cradled in her hands. She sits on the stairs, catching her breath, steadying her racing heart. “I know, but what can we do? The TARDIS won’t let us outside and even if she would I don’t think we could help, I mean - we’re human! Whatever these things are, we can’t fight them.”

“I don’t think we need to.”

You scowl at Nardole. “What do you mean?”

“If they really are only interested in you two, then presumably, once they realise you’re no longer on the ship, they’ll just... wander off, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” Bill sounds quite convinced. “I mean, that blue guy was there for, what? Days?”

At the mention of the armed alien, you wince. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from the image of Missy’s limp body, slumped in the navigator’s chair. “Days,” you agree flatly.

“Exactly. Just try and keep calm, and I’m sure they’ll be back very-”

The doors tear open, flooding the room with the colony ship’s bright fluorescent lights.

“-soon.”

“Chair! Now!”

Any relief you might have felt is drained immediately by the sound of the Doctor’s voice, sharp and furious and full of pain. He has one arm around Missy, supporting her weight, half-dragging her alongside him as he staggers through the doors. Even from across the console you can see the smouldering burn mark on her coat. It’s bigger than your hand and still smoking.

The sight of her, astonishingly still conscious and walking, shakes loose a deep breath you didn’t realise you were holding. You’ve grown to quite like Missy; her quick mind and deadpan black humour had endeared you to her when you visited the vault, and she’s proven herself a useful ally more than once with her effortless navigation of the TARDIS. In truth, despite Bill’s understandable trepidation, you’d been excited to see her at the helm of a new adventure.

Be careful what you wish for.

He drops her unceremoniously in the nearest seat and she lets out a heavy, pained noise at the impact. It makes you wince in sympathy. “Watch it! I’ve just been shot, or hadn’t you noticed?” She falls just short of her usual sardonic wit, too much strain seeping into the words.

“Shut up.” There’s no kindness in it. He works urgently at the buttons of her coat, pulling it open to expose her blouse and the wound left by the laser-barrelled weapon. He’s muttering angrily under his breath. “Missed all the vital organs.”

“Yes, well, if you want something done properly,” she mutters. Then, so sharply that you jump, “oi! What the hell are you doing, man?”

The Doctor has both hands poised over the injury on her side. At first you think it’s a trick of the light, an optical illusion triggered by stress and exhaustion, but as you watch they begin to glow in a vibrant, sickly shade of orange. Light pours from his palms and drenches her abdomen until the scene burns your eyes. It feels like staring into the sun.

“Be quiet,” he says calmly, ignoring her protests. “You’ll take weeks to heal on your own. You’re no use to anyone in this state. I’m just speeding things up a bit.”

You’ve heard of regeneration, of course, but this is the first time you’ve witnessed it. Despite the blinding intensity of it you can’t seem to look away. You move around the console as if in a trance, seeking out a better view. It is, at once, the most beautiful and most frightening thing you’ve ever seen, and you know with every fibre of your being that it is wrong, a violation of physical laws that you take for granted. What unfolds between the Time Lords in front of you spits in the face of everything you know about the universe.

Your normal Saturday has been resumed.

“Oh, for- get your hands off me!” She reaches down to knock him away but he’s already moving, stumbling slightly and bracing his hands on the back of the chair to steady himself. It’s clear that he’s expended some energy.

“Not quite good as new,” he observes. “You may actually have a scar.”

“I always fancied one of those.” She twists experimentally in her seat, testing the extent of her recovery. The only evidence of what should, by all rights, have been a mortal wound is a single low hiss through her teeth. “Consider it a touching memento of my full rehabilitation.”

“Rehabilitation?” He scoffs, cold and bitter. “Do you think this was a success?”

“I saved the humans, didn’t I? At tremendous personal cost, might I add.” She gestures to her side. “This is my favourite blouse, as well you know, and now it’s ruined.”

Provoked by her arch lack of repentance, he raises his voice. “You tried to kill a man! A frightened man, who asked us for help!”

“A stupid man, with a gun,” she bites back. Her hands are tight on the arms of the chair.

“I had the situation under control until you-”

“No you didn’t!”

You almost leap out of your skin when Bill interjects, her voice whip-thin and deafening even from across the room. All eyes turn to her. She’s a beacon of rage, practically vibrating, still fuelled by mortal peril and righteous fury.

“You had no idea what you were doing,” she seethes, pointing an accusatory finger at the Doctor. “You were just chatting away like an idiot, like you always do, thinking you’re so clever, and it nearly got us killed!”

He doesn’t take it well. “I was defusing the situation! It was a negotiation. I knew that-”

“Just shut up! You were negotiating for our lives!” At her side, one hand clenches into a tight fist. You can hear the angry tears making her voice waver as the adrenaline rush begins to fail. “D’you know what, Doctor? You made the wrong call. I never thought I’d say it but Missy was better than you today.”

She turns on her heels and heads deeper into the TARDIS, leaving her scathing words to hang heavily in the air. Shrinking in the face of conflict, you stand stock still, mouth agape, staring at the space she’s just vacated; Nardole makes an apologetic face and hurries after her. For a moment, you consider following, but think better of it. If it were you, you would want to be alone.

Face thunderous, the Doctor moves over to the console, manipulating switches and levers too forcefully until the ship dematerialises with a familiar mechanical screech.

“I think there was a compliment in there, somewhere.”

Missy stretches out in the chair, apparently unfazed, folding her arms behind her head. You don’t miss the slight flinch as the change in position tugs at her newly-healed wound. He ignores her, working his jaw in silent fury. “Oh, do try and cheer up, Doctor. I’m sorry that your softly-softly approach wasn’t up to scratch today but if you’re waiting for me to apologise for saving-”

“Don’t.” His voice is low and dangerous. “Don’t pretend to care about my friends.” His eyes dart over to you for a moment and you look away, removing your earpiece and inspecting it as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. “You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself. You haven’t changed at all.”

Not waiting for a response, he stalks out of the console room, brushing past you on the way. One hand skims lightly over your shoulder as if to make sure that you’re really there. You allow it. After the day’s events you’re drained, eager for peace and reconciliation that seems far out of reach. Even this gentle touch is almost enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Well?” Missy fixes you with her gaze and you blush, setting down the earpiece you’ve been fidgeting with. “Aren’t you going to run off, too?”

“I can if you want.” You’re aiming for jovial, but the words come out small and you wince. She raises an expectant eyebrow and doesn’t speak. “Actually, I wanted to say thank you. For saving us.”

“No need. It was all part of my devious plan.” She adjusts a stray lock of hair. Despite the flippancy in her voice it’s clear that his words have wounded her. You frown.

“He’s an idiot. Time Lord or not, I know a man with a bruised ego when I see one.” She chuckles wryly, looking down at the ruins of her blouse. Her hand uselessly attempts to smooth the fabric out. You move closer. Your pulse races when you reach out to touch her; she doesn’t pull away, watching from the corner of her eye as you rest your palm gently on her forearm.

Something changes in her posture. You think of the Doctor, of Bill’s hand crushing yours as you both waited to die, of how every living thing needs to be touched sometimes and your fingers wrap around her slender arm, the slightest pressure, your thumb sweeping back and forth over the thin cotton of her sleeve. She draws a sharp breath and turns to look at you again and you see a thin mist of tears glistening in her bright eyes. For the first time it occurs to you that she must feel as weary as you do.

“Thank you,” you say again, heavy with sincerity. “I’m pretty sure we would have died if you weren’t there. He’ll come around.”

Her face hardens almost imperceptibly and she clears her throat, blinking away the vulnerability with surprising ease. “The Doctor can do what he likes. I didn’t do it for him.”

“You didn’t?” Surprised, your fingers fall still. Her free hand leaves the armrest, coming to cover your own, and she looks up at you with something so akin to hope that your throat tightens.

“No,” she says softly. “I didn’t.”

#mine #missy x reader #request #the master x reader

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

Too Far Gone

Sith!Kylo x Female Reader

Warnings: Trooper violence against reader, drinking, swearing. NSFW 18+

Word count: 3.9k

Read Chapter 3 here on AO3.

The weeks had flown by morphing into months before you knew it, Poe had risen through the ranks quickly not only impressing Leia but everyone else in Resistance High Command. His flying skill coupled with his winning personality had everyone wrapped round his little finger, you could see when he walked through the base the amount of admiring glances that were chucked his way and it made you smirk. He really had the pick of the bunch. After a fairly successful and daring supply run Poe was promoted to Commander and he named you his Captain almost immediately. Standing in the conference room around the holotable you stared at the large construct before you called the Colossus.

‘I will send Commander Dameron and the Captain to gather intel from our spy on the fuelling platform, apparently the First Order has taken interest and I want to know why.’

‘I agree, we have to find out why the First Order is sneaking around and what they want with it,’ said General Ackbar, his bulbous yellow eyes blinking slowly. Leia turned to you and Poe a twinkle in her eyes as regarded you both.

‘You’re going to like this, come with me.’ You followed her into hangar one wondering what she was going to show you. ‘These are your new rides.’

‘Whooooa!’ Poe shoved past you as his excitement got the better of him. ‘Are these modified T-65s?’ Your eyes raked over the two spaceships before you, they were painted in bright gaudy colours, both ships had their top s-foils removed and their nose cones had been replaced but they were unmistakably T-65s the older model to your T-70. You crossed your arms as you regarded the fighters.

‘The Colossus, it’s a fueling platform, protected by the Aces squadron.’ Leia nodded at your words.

‘I need you to find out how far the First Order meddling goes. And I need confirmation on why they have shown interest.’

‘Yo! General! These are amazing!’ Poe shouted loudly.

‘I should hope so Commander! They cost an absolute fortune. Don’t ruin them.’ She moved to the side as two ball droids rolled up, one was orange and white and the other was blue and red, both of them beeping a greeting. ‘You will be assigned a droid each..’

‘Dibs on BB8!’ Poe jogged towards you, his face lighting up when he saw the little droid.

‘I would have taken CB23 anyway, girl power right?’ You knelt down and nudged the droid and she produced an arm to wave at you as she beeped in agreement. ‘When do we leave?’ Leia regarded you and you realised these questions should be coming from Poe but he was too busy talking to BB8 about the racers.

‘As soon as you’re ready, when you get there the contact will make himself known to you. He’ll know who you are.’

‘So are we just expected to fly in? Are we racing? Keeping a low profile?’ Details, you needed details Poe was rubbish with details he winged every mission he was ever on but you didn’t work like that.

‘You will fly in, ask for repairs, they will take you to the right hangar and then don’t get sucked into anything just watch, recon.’

‘Recon. Right.’ She patted your arm gently.

‘I’ll leave it to you Captain, your Commander seems preoccupied.’ You sighed wearily as you watched Poe, he was like an excited child but it made you smile.

‘We’ve got our work cut out for us CB.’ The droid beeped in agreement. ‘Can you stay with BB8 and do some diagnostics on the ships? Make friends with them and things, we’ll leave soon.’ She saluted you with her little arm before rolling off squealing commands at Poe and BB8. You watched Poe jump down as he headed towards you, he draped an arm over your shoulders as you both headed back to your room.

You sat on the bed as Poe was in refresher, you were warring with yourself about whether to take your lightsaber or not, the idea of leaving it behind made you panic but the idea of taking it also made you panic. What if it was discovered? What if you were taken by the First Order? So many things could go wrong with a mission like this. The bag sat heavily on your lap as you automatically untied the knots revealing the silver hilt. You gently ran your hand over the pattern you had carved into the metal feeling the ridges with your fingertips, the ridges that felt so right when you held it, the slanted top gave it an unusual appearance. Well all lightsabers were unique to the person who wielded them but Master Luke always seemed interested in yours but he never said why, and you’d never find out now. The door opened and you slammed the cover on your bag shut as Poe came out of the refresher, but he caught your movement.

‘You thinking of taking it?’

‘I don’t know, maybe, probably not. I don’t know, ok?’ You marched your way into the refresher and pushed the door shut. You could feel the pull to your weapon in here and it was driving you crazy, it was getting louder and louder, the headaches had started as the pressure built. But you kept ignoring it, you refused to acknowledge that side of you anymore, you’d cut yourself off from the Force as much as you could. But clearly, it wasn’t enough.

You splashed water over your face before heading back out into the room, Poe had got dressed, you’d been given plain flight suits and you packed some of your own clothes to change into. You ran the mission through with Poe, he seemed quite content to let you take the lead on this so you were going to. You headed back out into the hangar, the droids already ready and waiting.

‘Did you run diagnostics? Fuelled up? Ok then, Fire it up CB!’ You jumped into the cockpit feeling excited as the engines came to life, making the frame vibrate around you.

‘Red one can you hear me?’

‘Loud and clear Black Leader.’

‘You ready?’

‘Always.’

‘Good luck you two. Don’t get caught.’ Leia’s voice sounded in your headset.

‘Have faith General! See you soon!’ You followed Poe out of the hangar racing past him once you were in the clouds.

‘Wow! This has got a kick!’ You exclaimed as the g-force pushed you back into your seat.

‘You wanna race?’ You grimaced slightly thinking you shouldn’t.

‘I don’t know, maybe we should save fuel.’

‘Worried I’m going to beat you?’ You rolled your eyes as the sound of his smirk easily came across in his voice. ‘We can refuel when we get there.’ You looked at him through the transparisteel of your canopy noting his cocky expression and you felt a surge of competitiveness.

‘Sure. Let’s race flyboy.’

‘Alright! The girl knows how to play! BB8 count us down.’

‘Get ready CB…’ you murmured and she beeped in acknowledgment. BB8 let out a shrill beep and you released the throttle as far as it would go, feeling a rush as again the g-force pressure pushed you down and back into your seat.

‘Woooooohoooooo!’ You yelled as your engines flared and you sped away from Poe.

‘BB8! How’s she doing that? Give me more buddy!’ You spiralled up into the sky breaking the atmosphere at speed and just marvelling at how the blue and white sky gave way to the deep black of space. ‘You cheated!’ You grinned at the indignation on his voice.

‘Just take the loss, we all know I’m a better pilot than you.’ You heard him mumbling under his breath through your headset and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. You looked across at him again as you both glided smoothly in the nothingness of space.

‘Beautiful isn’t it?’

‘Yeah it really is, but we should get a move on, CB prime the hyperdrive, after you Black Leader.’

‘No no, ladies first.’ Without another word the white lights of hyperspace began to glow around you before blurring into a continual stream of white flashing light. You always enjoyed travelling at lightspeed, the silence was comforting, the sound of only your breathing keeping you company.

‘Well we’ve got 5 parsecs to go, these things really klick.’ Poe’s voice came over exceptionally loud in your headset shattering the brief moment of peace you had.

‘They really do. What do you think we’ll find once we get there?’

‘I don’t know. But we can’t come away empty handed. We need evidence for the Senate.’

‘I know. The First Order are being sneaky bastards.’

‘Try not to get us pulled into any fights.’

‘Who me?? More like you flirting with the wrong girl or something, keep it in your pants this time Dameron I do not want a repeat of Tatooine!’ You heard his groan and you knew he was covering his face in shame.

‘I was drunk…’

‘That’s no excuse! Let’s just both make a promise to not hit on anyone this mission.’

‘Sure. That’s a deal.’ You sighed slightly and saw you had three parsecs to go.

‘Nearly there.’ CB whistled and you frowned. ‘What do you mean you’re detecting something?’ You listened to a series of quick beeps and whistles from her as she chatted. ‘Black leader is BB8 reading the same?’

‘Yes Red one, something big is blocking our way.’ The proximity alert started beeping and flashing on your console. You flicked some switches priming the inertial damper to lessen the jolt coming out of hyperspace.

‘Dropping out now!’ You pulled the lightspeed lever dropping the ship manually and instantly you were faced with a huge starship looming ahead. ‘What the...that’s a First Order star destroyer. CB switch everything off and deactivate so we can glide by undetected.’

‘Good plan, BB do the same.’ You looked over as Poe as you both glided side by side, the First Order ship was huge, and you held your breath hoping they wouldn’t see you. You shivered as the coldness began to seep into the cockpit. It felt like it took forever to pass by, you started counting all the lights glowing from inside to keep yourself calm. You heard Poe release a breath in your headset as you both restarted the ships and bringing the droids back online.

‘That was close.’

‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’

‘Let’s just get down there and see what’s happening.’

You were both directed to a repair hangar and you glided in slowly and landed. A large mechanism came down and gripped the wings pulling it below the platform to make room for Poe’s x-wing. The owner of the repair hangar came out to greet you, he was coming up to middle aged, his black dreadlocks tinged with grey and pulled back away from his face. He had a weathered look about him and his voice was rich and deep, he gave you directions to a bar that you could wait in while they looked over the racers. A young dark skinned girl was already casting suspicious looks at you both as she climbed onto Poe’s one and leaping into the cockpit. As you walked away, the droids trailing faithfully behind, you heard her speak.

‘Yeager, there’s nothing that needs fixing here!’

‘Just fuel them up Tam, stop being so damn nosy.’ You smirked as you heard her sigh loudly before the door shut behind you.

‘So no hitting on people? That’s the deal right, because…’

‘No. No because ! The deal sticks. End of. I don’t want to have to rescue you, shoot or punch anyone for your sorry arse.’ He gave you a mischievous smile as he saluted you.

‘Yes Captain!’ You shushed him as you spied the traditional white and black armour of a stormtrooper ahead.

‘No titles!’ You hissed. You eyed the troopers cornering a poor civilian asking for ID their blasters shoved in his face as he shrunk away from them. You and Poe dipped your heads not wanting to attract attention, Leia had paid handsomely for these fake IDs but you’d rather not put them to the test at all if possible. You both made it to the bar without incident, Poe ordered your drinks as you leant against the bar surveying the eclectic collection of alien species around you wondering who your contact could be.

‘Let’s head out onto the balcony.’ You nodded taking the drink off Poe and letting him lead you outside. The busy platform stretched out below you as it bustled with people attending the market. As you looked up into the blue sky you could see rings just hanging in the sky, they must use these for racing. You wondered what it felt like, heading for such a small space, fighting other people for position as you both dived for the same point.

The telltale screech of a TIE fighter lazily cutting through the sky had your stomach clenching in fear, knowing you were a member of the Resistance always made you hyper aware of everything First Order related. Poe rested against the rail of the balcony, he seemed so much more at ease than you and you felt jealous with how he just absorbed these new situations like they were nothing. You downed the harsh liquid, coughing as it burnt a fiery trail down your throat.

‘Gods Poe what is this?’ He shrugged as he looked at the doors behind you.

‘You needed relaxing, heads up.’ You turned around to see Yeager from the repair hangar heading towards you both, he stood next to you not really looking at you as he spoke.

‘So the First Order numbers are growing everyday, they are looking to take over the fuelling station as a tactical move,’ he spread his hands. ‘Of course I have no proof, you’d find that in Captain Doza’s office.’ Your eyes travelled to where he was pointing and you saw a tower standing proud from the rest of the platform. ‘You’ll find it at the top of Doza’s tower.’

‘He named the tower after himself?’ You asked. Yeager shrugged.

‘You’ll find it difficult to get in there.’ Poe looked at the droids as BB8 rolled towards you emitting a series of beeps.

‘BB is right, we’ll easily gain access with their help.’ Yeager nodded as he looked over you both.

‘Get in, get out, the longer you will be the more likely you’ll get caught. Go when it’s dark.’ He pushed away from the rail and you nudged Poe’s arm.

‘This mission just got far more interesting,’ you whispered.

‘Let’s finish up here and have a look around without getting caught.’ You made a motion to the droids and they both rolled to your sides.

‘I don’t have a good feeling about this,’ you murmured. Poe paused before he opened the door, his brown eyes looked at your worried expression before grabbing you in a tight hug. You breathed in the scent of his leather jacket, loving how much this simple familiar contact made you relax.

‘I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine,’ his voice rumbled quietly through his chest. ‘We’ll be fine. Let’s face it,’ he pulled you away slightly so you could see that infuriating cocky grin he always had before he landed you in a heap of shit. ‘We are pros at getting each other out of trouble.’ You shoved him away swatting him playfully on the shoulder, but nothing could shift the creeping sense of dread you had, it coiled around your insides and you couldn’t help but take it as a warning. Something was coming.

Darkness fell on the station and your breath came in short quick gasps as you hid round the corner. Your palms felt clammy as you held the blaster in your hands, there was a Trooper standing right behind you, just round the corner. All you had to do was spin and shoot. Spin and shoot. Your eyes flew to Poe and he nodded at you, ok spin and shoot. You took a step swinging yourself around the corner and shooting the trooper before he could even react. He dropped to the ground and you hid again, your chest heaving as you realised what you’d just done. Poe leaned across you to have a look round the corner.

‘Clear,’ he breathed. The rest of the corridor was empty and BB8 rolled up to the doorway and you hoped this was the right door. The door whooshed open and you all dived in the empty office closing it behind you. Poe stood by the door as you rummaged through the desk finally coming across a data pad with the First Order insignia on the back, you grabbed it and shoved it in your bag. The light on your commlink went off and you pushed the button hearing CB’s agitated squeals and beeps, your eyes widened, without much time to react you pushed some buttons on the desk. You had spied a door in the wall and to your relief it opened .

‘Get in here quick!’ You hissed. It was a tight fit especially with BB8 crushing your legs together but you managed to arrange it so you could see out of the tiny crack in the door. A cold sensation trickled down your back followed by an oppressive feeling on your mind, it was heavy causing you to sag slightly against Poe, he managed to wedge an arm around you so you didn’t make any noise as you shifted. The door opened to the office and man you supposed was Captain Doza walked in, he was flanked by two stormtroopers, and a trooper in gold armour.

‘Commander Pyre this visit is highly irregular,’ he stated angrily.

‘Have you had a look at our proposal Captain? We are getting impatient.’

‘I have had a quick look but I need to go over the finer details.’ The gold trooper shifted slightly as he listened to a transmission through his helmet.

‘It seems the Supreme Leader has got tired of waiting. He’s here.’ The colour drained out of the Captain's face and you shivered against Poe again, he tightened his arm around your waist, you could feel his concern but he couldn’t voice it.

‘Is there anything you want to say before he arrives, Captain?’ Captain Doza finally moved heading to the drawer where you had found the datapad. He scrabbled around for a few seconds. ‘Is there a problem?’ Asked Commander Pyre.

‘It’s gone, the proposal it’s missing!’

‘We will not stand for this Captain,’ the Commander's voice rolled threateningly from his helmet just as the door whooshed opened again. The cold feeling intensified clawing its way through your body as the tall figure of the Supreme Leader marched into the room.

‘Well?’ His voice spat out of his mask as he regarded everyone in the room.

‘The Captain has apparently lost the proposal.’ said Commander Pyre. You closed your eyes feeling the raw fury emitting from Kylo Ren, it battered you making you feel tender and highly aware of everything around you. The hairs on the back of your neck sent a prickly sensation down your body, goosebumps flooded your arms and you noticed your heartbeat racing as it thumped loudly in your ears. The feel of Poe’s leather jacket pressing into you and the way his arm held you, mixed with the heat of his body and the familiar smell of him all bombarded you aggressively and you could feel the heat rising in your body as your stomach churned. You needed out. The feel of Kylo Ren’s presence was immense and you couldn’t shut it out no matter how hard you tried, the cold touch of the Dark Side made you feel sick.

‘I am tired of waiting. Commander Pyre, take the Captain to the Shuttle. Take the station by force.’

‘Yes Supreme Leader.’ The two white troopers grabbed the Captain and he instantly dug his heels in but it was futile.

‘No wait...please! My daughter!’ His voice faded away as they dragged him from the room the Commander following behind. But the Supreme Leader stayed, his mask slowly looking round the room as he scanned it, your eyes widened and you held your breath hoping he didn’t sense you, hoping he wouldn’t find you, because if he did, you were both dead. With a sudden swirl of his tunic the door opened and he left.

You and Poe waited a few beats before spilling out of the wardrobe in a tangle of arms and legs, you leant on the desk your stomach roiling at how close you had been to capture.

‘We need to get out of here.’ Poe whispered as he tried to grab your attention, but the sickness was boiling up inside you. ‘Come on move!’ He wrapped an arm around your waist heaving you towards the door, BB8 already working on opening it. ‘CB get those ships in the air!’ He whispered into the commlink as he dragged you out, your legs barely working as you still reeled from the effect of Kylo Ren’s presence. Poe paused and shoved you against a wall, he looked around making sure you were both alone before grabbing your face. ‘Come back to me, I need you. I need you to help get us out of this!’ You nodded concentrating on his brown eyes as you took a deep breath. ‘You might need this.’ You looked down as he pressed the cool hilt of your lightsaber into the palm of your hand. You looked at it, not believing you were really seeing it, your fingers snapped around it and you felt a surge within you. It cleared the fog that clouded your mind giving you clarity and strength you needed.

‘Alright, let’s do this.’

‘That’s my girl,’ breathed Poe as you took the lead. You knew you had to escape the maze of corridors before you were discovered, the longer you were in this place the harder it would be to leave. The First Order would be swarming the station in minutes. Finally you spied the door you had used to come in and BB8 hurriedly opened it only to be faced with Kylo Ren. Cold dread swept through you as a platoon of troopers crammed into the small space but you were frozen as you stared into the sightless mask, the silver lines around the eye holes captivating you, holding you in place. You could hear Poe yelling as he opened fire, he was yelling at you to run, to fight to do anything but just stand there. But you couldn’t move, trapped in a prison of your own making.

Pain blossomed at the back of your legs and you fell to the floor, the prison broken as pain became your main focus, another trooper smacked you across the face with the butt of his blaster splitting your lip and spraying blood on to the white leg of the soldier. You grunted numbness spreading over your face as the welt swelled quickly. You were alone, Poe had fled with BB8 and a detachment of troopers on their tail, you hoped they made it because if they didn’t it meant the First Order was already winning.

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jjaybank · 4 years

Text

Salt || JJ. Maybank

Chapter 3 : Smoke Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader (mentions of John B. x Reader) Summary: You are a backpacker who has wound up staying in the Outer Banks for a while and being taken in by the Pogues. Starved of love, JJ struggles with the realisation that he’s falling for his friend. Hard. A/N: In my head The Pogues are like in their early twenties in this okay, so humour me. Soft!JJ has my heart n soul and hopefully yours

Warnings: Drug use obvs it’s JJ, alcohol, soft!JJ, fluff

Tag List: @danicarosaline @sspidermanss @teamnick @x-lulu @pancakefancake @plantsarenice-love @mybnkjj @1believe-in-your-self1 message me if you wanna be on the tag list x

You spend the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon down by the sea; both riding the waves and lounging on the sand. You’re lying on your back, digging your heels into the sand lazily and nearly drifting off to the hypnosis of the waves lapping on the shoreline. Kie was attempting to snooze off the rest of her hangover beside you, dozing on a turquoise coloured beach towel. You moved up to lean back on your elbow and observe the boys, still playing like kids in the ocean. You laughed to yourself as you watched John B. and Pope attempt to cut JJ up, causing him to wipe out, but taking both of them down with him. They make their way out of the sea, pushing each other into the shallow water, and their howls of laughter echo around the empty beach. You close your eyes against the sound, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by friends in the sun. You’re pulled from your lull by JJ shaking his hair over you, sending seawater splashing all over you and Kie. Your eyes fly open to see him standing there, grinning at you, as Kiara shouts half-hearted protests. You push at his ankle, laughing while you force his leg out from under him and he buckles into the sand with a soft thud. He lies there for a moment and you think maybe he’s mad, but he turns his head to look at you and there’s a softness there. You realise, maybe too late, that you still have your hand on his leg. ~ The first clouds begin to roll in that evening.

You’re all sat out on the porch of the Chateau sharing JJ’s joint and listening to the cicadas chirp. Pope is stoking the fire pit, and the scent of weed and wood smoke is thick in the air. You can’t see anything past the orange glow that surrounds the five of you, the yard drowned in the black of the night. You feel so at home in your bubble of safety and calm. In stark contrast, your chest feels tight every time JJ catches your eye over the flames. You keep trying to divert you gaze elsewhere but there’s that pull again; the one you can’t shake, and the look of his that you just can’t place. He looks so good in the mixture of moonlight, and the glow of the fire. His blond hair hangs lazily over his eyes, the light from the flames licking over his tanned skin. You feel a wave of desire wash over you and catch yourself in shock. John B places a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze. He’s only offering you another beer, but you suddenly feel sick at the idea that JJ could interpret there being something there. For some reason you just can’t have him believe there is something going on between you and John B. You just can’t. You shake John B.’s hand from you, startling him. He looks down at you with a questioning eye and you shrug. ‘Sorry, man.’ You mumble, taking the bottle and offering an apologetic smile. When you look back up at JJ, bottle to your lips, he’s in deep conversation with Kie. There’s a spark of something deep in the pit of your stomach that feels uncomfortably like jealousy. ~ As usual, you and JJ are the last ones out on the porch. ‘Bunch of lightweights’ he smirks, as Kiara excuses herself for the night, following in the tracks of Pope and John B.

JJ and you always end up having your most speculative, absurd, and occasionally sordid, conversations out on this porch. In the dead of night. Surrounded by mosquitos and smoke. You find so much joy in debating the most outrageous conspiracy theories, cackling about your sex lives, and dreaming up your futures, with this ridiculous boy. But tonight felt different. JJ fishes around in his various pockets for a moment, and triumphantly produces a pre-rolled joint from the back pocket of his shorts. He passes it over the fire pit to you and you reach for it gladly, catching his zippo lighter in your other hand. He chews his lip between his teeth watching you light up, suddenly hyperaware of the joint between your lips and the knowledge that it will soon be between his. He finds himself mesmerized by the firelight flickering over your face. The way it sends shadows dancing over you and similarly causes your skin to glow with a golden hue. You sit in silence for a moment, passing the joint between you and submitting to the zen that washes over you. The silence between you is unheard of. You’re always the last to bed because you’re always high on the adrenaline that the conversation that bounces between you causes. There has always been a natural chemistry between you, and until it was threatened by the idea of you and John B., you never realised how much you craved it. Thirsted for his attention, his laughter, his gaze. You realise how much you need his touch. Just a brush of his hand on yours, an arm around your shoulder, an open mouth on your neck. Oh, God. You feel a blush rise up on the back of your neck and are glad of the fire and the excuses you can draw from it. What is happening to you. You shiver, partially from the cloud cover- partly from the rush of heightened senses you’re experiencing over JJ. To your horror he notices and pats the bench next to him. He smells of the ocean, the salt is still causing his hair to stand up and curl in odd places. He smells of beer, and the whiskey that he and John B took shots of earlier in the evening. ‘JJ,’ you say, so softly and cautiously it’s nought but a whisper. He puts his arm around you and pulls you into his side with a lazy smile plastered on his face. ‘What’s on your mind?’ ‘You believe me, don’t you?’ He shoots you a questioning look and you wring your hands together. ‘You believe me about there being nothing there with John B. That that’s all in the past? And what’s in the past- that was barely anything at all?’ You look up at him and watch the fire dance in his eyes. They’re dark and hooded from the weed and the alcohol. His jaw clenches, chin jutted out. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it even further. ‘I believe you.’ He’s still looking deep into the fire, but you’re satisfied by his words. JJ doesn’t lie. You can feel the mixture of alcohol and drugs running through your veins. They cause you to probe even further. ‘JJ,’ you say again. He hums in response. ‘Was it just about the rules?’ You feel him stiffen beside you and almost instantly regret your question. He doesn’t say anything for slightly too long; why isn’t he saying anything? Anxiety builds up in your throat, choking back the words you want to use to fill the void. You can’t look at him. Your mind is running a million miles a minute, trying to find a way out of this. Trying to rescue what you may have just wrecked. God, what are you doing? But, unexpectedly, his fingertips brush your upper arm from where his hand rests on your shoulder. It’s amazing how much comfort that small action brings you. Warmth radiates from that point of contact. You wonder if he can feel it too. He shifts in his seat and takes a drag from the joint. He holds it for a moment before blowing the smoke out in a thick cloud and watches it drift up into the stars. ‘No,’ he says finally, running a hand over his face and turning slightly towards you, ‘it wasn’t just about the rules.’ You don’t really know what you wanted to hear him say. It would surely be much simpler if that was all he cared about. But you experience an overwhelming feeling of bliss just hearing him voice those words. It wasn’t just about the rules. You’re not sure how long the two of you sat there, just staring into the embers of the dying fire. The joint is long gone, and the sounds of water lapping on the dock are hypnotic. At some point your head had fallen to rest on his shoulder. He was annoyed with himself for how much he’d had to fight a grin when it had. He didn’t dare move for fear that you’d notice and shift away. His fingers haven’t stopped drawing subconscious patterns on your upper arm. You wish for them to never stop. You don’t want the night to end. To have to think about what is or isn’t happening. You just know that you want this languid tenderness to continue forever. To feel his body against the side of yours. To be acknowledged by him in this sense. You think back on every other night you have shared this intimacy before, intimacy and vulnerability that you had brushed off as friendship. About how you’ve both been unwittingly fuelling this fire for years. You can’t believe how casually you had taken this feeling of closeness for granted, now that you find yourself thinking that you never want it to go away. Suddenly you hear movement in The Chateau. It’s probably just one of the others going to the bathroom or fetching a glass of water, but it brings you crashing back to reality. JJ withdraws his arm and you are suddenly aware of how cold the night air is. ‘We should head’ he says, jerking a thumb towards The Chateau, and you nod grudgingly. You follow JJ inside reluctantly, but well aware of how badly you need sleep. Once inside he surprises you by turning in the doorway, and he looks like even he is not sure why he did it. You look up at him, your gaze wide with uncertainty. JJ’s eyes scan your face for a moment, as if he’s considering something. And then he leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek. It’s gentle and oh so innocent. To an onlooker it could be just a friend kissing a friend on the cheek. But it’s so un-JJ, to commit to this vulnerability, to expose a potential weakness. For him his kiss screams, ‘please’. It says, ‘give me time.’ It voices the hope and the insecurity that he’s not quite ready to say out loud. You close your eyes into it, your mind frantically trying to remember the details while they’re still happening: His hair tickling your face. His hand on your arm. His breath against your skin. And by the time you open your eyes you are stood alone in the dark kitchen, left only with the lingering smell of wood smoke, weed, and the ocean.

[Chapter Four: Calm] ~~ lmk what you think xoxox

#its 2am help #Jj Maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #outerbanks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank outer banks #rosie writes #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b. routledge

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

being a father // bakugou katsuki

Author’s Note: I am so excited for this one shot! It’s my first Katsuki one shot and I adore Katsuki with all my life. I hope you like this, nonn!

Word count: 1802

Pairing: ProHero! Dad! Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, domestic au

Being a parent made several things challenging for the Pro Hero.

These days, he barely got enough adult time with his dear wife, you; and sleep didn’t come naturally anymore. Although, Bakugou Katsuki did know that there was nothing about his lifestyle that he wanted to change.

Through the years, after falling in love with you, he realized that things had gradually mellowed down. He didn’t hate so easily anymore and he could never admit it but he grew some patience.

However, all the credit that he wanted to give his darling wife, he knew the ultimate change came after his precious baby girl.

When his daughter came into life, Katsuki understood love in a whole other way. Everything that he had been building for his whole life made sense, his love for you grew to a thousand scales, and his anger—this was something he believed he would never lose, but his anger faced a big challenge.

Katsuki, as a parent, what most would not have thought of about him or expected of him, adored his baby girl with all his heart and would not think twice to kill a room full of people if that meant she would be safe.

He enjoyed waking up at night when she cried; he enjoyed letting you catch up on sleep (because he knew you needed it considering you were a bigger pro when it came to balancing your career and family); he enjoyed taking care of his precious baby girl, until he realized that she was exactly like him.

Perhaps, it was the universe laughing at him. It was pointing a finger at him and laughing for the brat that he was when he was much younger, and since he was now seeing himself in his daughter, Bakugou understood through various levels that he deserved a smack on the head when he was younger.

You’d always mock at him and tell him he deserved it, especially when the calls started coming in from the playschool that his precious little firefly was beating up someone who had accidentally called her ‘puny’.

But, the real challenge was yet to come.

Collapsing on the bed after a late night of work, he found you there, ready to cradle him and hold him till he fell asleep. There was a fear gnawing at the back of his mind, a fear he wasn’t too ready to talk about; however, you were better than that. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew there was something bothering your husband.

“What is it?” You asked, chuckling, and wrapping your arms around him.

He was now nestled on to you, his head on your chest and his arms around you. He could only show this level of softness with his family; and on rare occasions too, considering it took him years to open up to you, even after marriage, some things were simply newer than others.

He sighed before letting out an inaudible groan. You laughed some more before kissing his head, encouraging him to talk.

“What happens when she gets a quirk?”

You had given it some thought before, but you were surprised to find Bakugou worrying about the same thing. Your quirk was powerful as well, but it wasn’t destructive like Katsuki’s. Your hotheaded husband took years trying to master his quirk, to not let it activate when moments were not called for. Sometimes, you wondered if it was the quirk that made Katsuki the way he was.

“Then she gets a quirk, Katsuki. What are you really worried about?”

Perhaps, he hated this about you. He hated how well you knew him, and he hated how he couldn’t ever hide anything from you. But, maybe, this hate was only masking the immense love he had for how he needn’t pretend in front of you.

“What if it’s mine?”

Your eyes widened and you pulled away a bit before facing your husband. His fear wasn’t legitimate, but you understood why he was weary about it. Your heart went out to Katsuki, considering how hard it was for him to reach a point in his life where he finally accepted his quirk as himself. He might not have showed it as a child, but Katsuki’s fear of becoming weak was fuelled from the lack of control he had over his quirk, sometimes.

He didn’t want that for his daughter.

“Kacchan…” You used the nickname Midoriya had given him as a child, and you nuzzled your head in his neck.

Katsuki’s grip around you tightened, and he held you, waiting for you to calm his nerves. He knew you always had the best words, the best things to say, the only things that he wanted to hear when he was even a tad bit stressed. You were his wonderwall.

“Then you’ll teach her all that you didn’t already know. You didn’t have a Kacchan growing up. You had to be your own. But our baby has you.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. A second later, he shut his eyes, feeling a bit better. He knew it; he knew he had made the right decision marrying you.

It was only three days after that did his daughter display signs of a quirk. It was during dinner, and his little firefly was eating quietly, he believed she was just hungry. You didn’t say anything either, you let her be, thinking she needed her space. However, both of you knew something was up.

“Sweetie, is there something wrong?” You asked, kindly, wanting to hear your daughter say something.

She was quiet and continued eating. She frowned after hearing your question, and glared at the plate in front of her. Katsuki gave you a look before turning to her, his heart beating rapidly over something that might be bothering his daughter.

“Don’t like your food or something?” He asked, cocking his eyebrow.

The child flinched at the sound of her father’s voice and it alerted Bakugou. You turned to your husband with wide eyes and shrugged, unaware of the sudden change in the four-year old’s mood. Turning to her once more, you tried to reason with her.

“Sweetie, you have to tell us—”

“I don’t want to!”

A spark appeared first, which gradually grew like a little ball of vacuum. It then exploded, sending everything on the dining table, flying across the room. Katsuki’s eyes were wide and you let out a gasp, knowing what this was. You turned to your husband before noticing him freeze up, unaware of how to react or respond, and stuck to the ground. You turned to your daughter and saw that she had angry tears in her eyes, as she ran off upstairs.

It was different. It was much slower than Katsuki’s quirk, but it was much more concentrated. It wasn’t exactly his quirk, but it was as if she had inherited over 80% of it.

“Katsuki…” You let out, wide-eyed.

“She has my quirk…” He said, rubbing a hand over his mouth in shock.

You nodded, tears filling your eyes. You were beyond happy, but the circumstance was confusing. Your daughter didn’t seem happy about getting a quirk, and neither was Katsuki. However, you knew his fear; you knew he was only afraid of what could happen to her because of her quirk.

“She needs you, Kacchan.” You said, assertively.

He shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath. This was new territory for him. He had no idea what to do.

“Go talk to her. Only you can understand what she’s going through. Go.” You said, rubbing his arm.

Without wasting another second, Katsuki rushed after his daughter upstairs. She was in her room, the door unlocked, sitting on her bed, scribbling the life out of a book with an orange crayon. Katsuki stood by the door and waited, not wanting to interrupt her if she didn’t want him there. This was something about himself that he hadn’t ever revealed to anyone; that he sometimes didn’t want people around him, and wanted to heal on his own.

“Hey,” He let out carefully, “Can I come in?”

There was no response from the little Bakugou yet. Katsuki waited, watching her with careful eyes, feeling nothing but apprehension and nervousness. He was swelling with pride that she had a similar version of his quirk, but he was afraid as to why she wasn’t happy.

A few minutes later, she nodded. Katsuki walked in and crouched in front of her, looking at her with a soft expression. His family never made him feel like himself, but whatever he was feeling, he loved.

“Do you hate your quirk?” Katsuki asked, jumping to the point. This was another thing about him that he had noticed in his daughter.

They both hated beating around the bush.

“Why don’t I have mom’s quirk?” She asked, her voice breaking; invariably, breaking Katsuki’s heart. “I’m…”

Katsuki waited. It wasn’t easy for the Bakugou’s to reveal their weakness or what they’re thinking. Waiting helped.

“What if I’m not good?” Tears fell down her eyes and she broke out into tears, crying in front of her father.

Katsuki’s heart melted at the sight. A soft smile appeared on his lips, something the little one noticed but hated.

“Don’t smile! I’ll blow that smile off your face—”

He laughed at her choice of words. She was so much like him. Katsuki then looked at her tiny hands and held them in his palm. Little Bakugou sniffed before letting her father display this weird affection, a bit curious and feeling a bit warm. He held her little hands in his and kissed her knuckles, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“What if you’re not good?” Katsuki repeated, now looking at her with a smile. “We’re Bakugou’s. We’re the best.”

His daughter sniffed before blinking away her tears.

“Are you ashamed of me?” She asked him, again, not beating around the bush.

“I could never be ashamed of you, you little runt. You’ve got my quirk. Do you know how badass that is?”

“If mom finds out you said badass then she’ll be mad.”

Katsuki frowned before snapping, “What she won’t know won’t hurt her.”

His daughter grinned evilly before saying, “I have a badass quirk.”

Katsuki sighed, “You shouldn’t say that word. Not until you’re 30.”

Little Bakugou giggled before hugging her father, while Katsuki raised her in the air and held her. A second later, she made little sparks in her hands that he watched her do, his heart swelling with pride. There was nothing out there that could ever make him believe he could love more than his little firefly. And with her having his quirk, Bakugou was sure of one thing.

If there was anyone he could allow being better than him, it was her.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsu #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia #bnha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki #domestic au #prohero #reader insert

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.3

Balmeria Roadhouse was as it always was at stupid o’clock in the morning. Two road trains parked up in the back parking space. Another sitting at the diesel pumps, the driver sitting inside the roadhouse taking a much needed break. Pulling up at the bowser, Lance heard the click of the pump release, the roadhouse on the older side where a pin needed to be entered instore before you could use the bowser. Shay was definitely on, her brother Rax also worked there, but he’d seemed to take a real dislike to their group, making one of them go in and ask to use the pumps instead of being a normal civil person. Yeah, he fell into the people that thoroughly annoyed Lance, but Shay... Shay lit up the room. Her smile was bright, hair always dyed shades of blue, huge silver hoop earrings that surely had to hurt her ears, then topped off with an ensemble that threw back to the golden years of “emo”. When she joked about it, a little bit of him died on the inside. It was hard being 44 when his friends were young enough to be his kids.

Pidge climbed out after Hunk, as Lance started fuelling up. The rain was coming again, he could smell it on the air. Maybe making a run for snacks hadn’t been the brightest idea mid-storm, but you never knew what would happen. He didn’t want to pressure Hunk, not after the tour from hell, but seeing Shay might just be thing his friend needed to perk him back up. Leaning back against his car, he closed his eyes and let himself just be. He loved this life. Out of all his “lives” as Lance, this was the most peace he’d ever found... as a near on hermit.

Hearing the slow roll of tires over wet gravel, Lance paid it no mind. The pump handle clicking to indicate the tank was full. Shaking the last few drops out the nozzle, he set the handle back in the cradle with a sigh. It should be illegal that filling a tank cost $90. He could still remember when it was $1 a litre. Back in the good old days and all that. Heck, when he’d been 20 it’d only been 65cents a litre. His precious girl was killing his bank account... but he’d never say that out loud, at least not with Pidge in earshot. And not with his Mami in earshot either. She mistakingly thought he kept his girl around out of some sense of misplaced guilt over his condition, not because no other car made him feel quite the way driving his bronco did. Giving Shay a wave on the security camera, Lance double checked his wallet in his back pocket before shoving his hands in his jacket, then making himself jog over to the roadhouse door as if he was scared of getting wet. As he jogged he noticed that the people who’d pulled up were one of those “people” who park way too close to the front door with the bonnet hanging over the edge, making the walk way smaller than it was supposed to be. From the look of it there were two of them in the black sedan, their car practically screaming for attention. Good luck with that, Lance was more interested in the road train by the diesel than two rich kids taking their car for a joy ride.

Letting himself into the warmth of the road house, Lance headed straight for the drinks at back. Grabbing two bottles of coke, he also snagged a bottle of orange juice for the morning. Carrying the drinks up to Shay, Hunk was spluttering over Shay’s flirting. Neither of them were aggressive enough to make that first move, Shay’s bubbly personality came from being in customer service, the “real” Shay was a shy blushing mess especially in the presence of Hunk

“Hiya, Lance. How’s it going?”

“Any day my glasses decide not to fog up is a win. How’s the night been?”

“Slooow. Seriously slow. Must be the weather, all the smart people are staying home”

Lance laughed as he nodded

“Yeah, it’s the night for it, alright. Hey, we were thinking of having dinner at mine on Saturday night, can you swing it?”

Shay shook her head, her gaze flicking to Hunk, then back to him

“I’m working both nights this weekend”

“It doesn’t have to be Saturday. Friday works too. Or Monday. Actually, any night works. One of the perks that comes with working from home”

“I can do Friday... are you sure you don’t mind?”

Now Shay was sounding like Hunk. They’d be the sweetest couple

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. It won’t be anything too fancy, maybe dinner than vegging out in front of the TV. I mean, please don’t feel pressured at all to come, I won’t be offended. I was just thinking how nice it’d be to actually hang out outside of this place”

Shay nodded quickly

“That sounds fun. I’ll finally be able to meet Blue”

With her blue hair, Shay had thought Lance was talking about her whenever he mentioned “Blue” to Pidge and, or, Hunk. His cooing over his precious princess making her uncomfortable. Shay remained in the dark until Pidge started teasing him mercilessly over Lance buying his baby girl a bigger and better cat tree to celebrate her first birthday

“She’s a bit of a snob, just so you know. Oh, you totally don’t have to bring anything, but I know what parents are like, so if you drink bring a bottle of that and we’ll pretend it’s for me”

Shay laughed. Lance felt as if the gift giving had slowly slipped from society, a bit like dinner parties

“Sometimes you sound like my dad”

Pidge slammed her palms down on the counter, excited to have someone agree

“I know, right?! You should have heard him earlier, I could have died of shame when he was talking about being “totally radical!”

“Much retro, so lame”

Huffing are the pair, Lance grabbed a pack of gum to toss in with everything else

“Remind me why I associate with all of you?”

“For the laughs. Oh, we better move, they’re coming in”

Spying on the two guys from the flashy car, the group moved aside as the door chimed. Shay swapping tills so she wouldn’t have to start ringing up his purchases from scratch

“You guys got everything you want?”

Pidge nodded happily

“Shay’s rung up my two slushies. I decided I needed one of each instead of two raspberry”

“I really should have only let you get one. You’ll be awake all night from all that sugar”

“Jeez, thanks, dad...”

Pidge made the telephone gesture with her hand, raising it to her ear. She played along with her fake fall, humming and nodding a few times before holding her hand out towards him

“The 1970’s called, they want their idiot back”

Swatting at Pidge’s hand, Lance felt a bump against his back. No apology was forth coming as Shay served the two strangers, the taller answering Shay’s polite attempts at small talk. At least one of them wasn’t a total douche.

When the pair left, the group moved back over. Shay finishing off scanning the last few items

“That’s $143.95 all up. Pidge said you were having a movie marathon when you got home?”

Fishing his wallet out, Lance pulled out his credit card, handing over as he shook his head

“She might be, but I’d hardly call it a movie marathon when she’s watching over what she taped tonight. Hunk and I are about ready to call it night”

“That sounds like a good plan. The weather’s supposed to turn bad again”

Entering his pin, Lance waited for “approved” to show on the reader, before taking his card back and sliding it away

“I heard that too. That’s why I’ve got to get these two home. If you write your number on the receipt, I’ll add you and chuck a text to confirm. You know where my house is, don’t you?”

Shay giggled, printing off the receipt like Lance has suggested

“Seeing it’s the only house on the road, I don’t think I can go wrong”

When the door chimed again, Lance turned out of habit. He hadn’t seen the diesel drier leave yet, so had thought maybe the man was waiting for someone. Walking back in, the taller of two strangers was scratching the back of his head. Greeeeat. The guy wanted a favour. He could tell by the way he was forcing himself to appear casual

“Hey, me again. My brother and I just tried our car but it doesn’t seem to be turning over. You don’t happen to know anyone around here that can help us out?”

That was what google was for. A quick google search would tell the man the towing service was shut for the night, unless he wanted to call someone in Platt.

Shay took the question in her stride, being a roadhouse she’d probably dealt with this kind of thing before

“That depends. If you need to reach Platt tonight, then you’ll want to call a Platt number for a tow. If you can wait until tomorrow, my friend Hunk here is the son of the town’s mechanic”

“We were actually hoping to stay a few days in town, you know, check out the old museum and that. My little brother’s really into photography. We’ve got a hotel room back in Platt, so I guess I need the number for that towing service”

The stranger scratched the back of his head again. Lance knew he was staring, but it was kind of hard not to when the man had a massive scar across the bridge of his nose

“I’ll give them a call, but they might not want to come out with the storm rolling in”

“Yeah, my brother was taking photos of the sky tonight, that’s how we ended up here in the middle of the night. I’d really appreciate it if you could”

“No worries, you’d be surprised how often it happens. Do you and your brother want to sit inside and wait?”

“No, thanks for the offer, but he’s not exactly a people person. I’m Shiro, by the way”

“I’m Shay. Welcome to Garrison”

“Thanks. I’ll just browse while you make that call. Thanks for this and for calling”

“It’s fine. They love me there because I send them so much business. Go ahead and take a look around”

There was no way that Lance was leaving Shay with a creeper. Hot or not, he didn’t know the man. An ordinary person wouldn’t be running around with a scar like that, his mind unhelpfully pointing out it could have been the result of a car crash or some kind of accident where he’d smacked his face hard against a pile or a corner. Whatever it’d been, Shiro had done a really good job of it. He carried himself with an air that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like he was hiding something, but exposing himself all at the same time. Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he settled on the fact that though he’d never see the man again after this, he’d be unfortunately stuck remembering him and always wondering about that damn scar.

Shay was brisk on the phone, she laughed at lot, Hunk practically melting in pining over the sound. Two quick phone calls later, Shay hung up her phone, swapping back to her customer service face

“Shiro, I’ve got some good news and some bad news”

Replacing the magazine he’d been flicking through, the handsome stranger wandered his way back to the counter. Shiro laughed nervously, something making Lance’s skin prickle

“I’m not sure I like the idea of bad news”

“Well, there’s been an accident in Platt, the storm knocked a set of lights, so they won’t be able to send someone until tomorrow. The good news is that Hunk’s dad runs the local autoshop, he can take a look first thing tomorrow morning. The bad news is you’re either stuck waiting the next 12 hours in here or we can try getting you a room in town... you could probably call a cab out from Platt, but that’s going to cost about as much as getting a room”

Shiro sighed. Lance didn’t blame him. Being stuck sucked arse

“Don’t worry, man. My dad will sort you out tomorrow”

Hunk tried to comfort the stranger, Shiro looking at him properly for the first time

“Uh, thanks for that. I’m Shiro...”

Pidge stepped forward

“I’m Pidge, that’s Hunk and this loser is Lance. We can give you a ride back in town if you need”

Lance stepped on Pidge’s foot. He wasn’t a damn taxi service, for all he knew this guy and his “brother” could be serial killers

“Really? That would be fantastic. You three are locals right, you wouldn’t happen to know of any good places to stay?”

“Sure do. We know everything about Garrison. Hey, why don’t you crash at Lance’s tonight, then he can give you a lift in tomorrow when he drops us off?”

Lance ground his foot down. He didn’t want two strangers in his house. It was his house. Access was limited to people he actually knew and liked... a grand total of five including Shay

“What? They’re stuck. It’s the nice thing to do”

Damn Pidge and her “niceness”. Shiro scratched the back of his head again

“I don’t want to put you out...”

“Nonsense. He’s got enough rooms. And it’s only for the night. What kind of people would we be if we left you stuck?”

“At least let me pay...”

“Already taken care of. The only thing is you’ll have to ride in the back of the rust bucket out there. This one refuses to get a new car”

Lance huffed

“There’s nothing wrong with my car. She’s got four wheels and starts”

“When she wants to. Go let your brother know what’s going on, while we finish up here”

“I will. Thank you so much for this. You three really saved our butts tonight. So, the bronco, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one”

“I guess we’ll get settled then... Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“It’s fine, go on, we’ll be out shortly”

When Shiro left, Lance rounded Pidge. Tempted to keep his foot on hers, but scared he’d apply too much pressure and accidentally hurt her

“What the fuck was that?”

Pidge fluttered her eyelashes

“What was what?”

“Volunteering my house? We don’t know them”

“Exactly! I saw you staring”

“Because he’s got a big arse scar across his nose...”

“And now we can find out why”

Lance rolled his eyes, trying to keep his panic internal

“And what if they’re both serial killers?”

“You’re just being stupid. It’s a guy and his brother. Oh! Maybe they’re into ghosts, everyone who comes here’s into ghosts”

Hunk groaned

“Pidge... Lance is right. We don’t know them”

“Too bad. It’s only for tonight. Consider it our good deed for the year”

Shay giggled

“I thought that was that tour of yours”

Pidge jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, grabbing Lance by the arm and shaking him

“Oh my god, that means two good deeds in one day! Karma, here we come!”

Karma could fuck off. If there was any kind of karma in the world, he wouldn’t be what he was now. He wanted his cat, his bed, and not to have two strangers in his goddamn house. Packing their shopping neatly into a bag, Shay placed two slushy cups down on the counter with a clatter as the lids slipped off

“Whoopsies. Anyway, I won’t keep you guys any longer. Lance, you’ll text me right?”

“Sure thing, Shay. Pidge, get your damn slushies so we can go”

“Do you think they want slushies? We should get them slushies. That’s the nice thing to do right?”

“If they wanted slushies, they would have got their own”

Blowing a raspberry at him, Lance knew that Shiro and his brother were getting slushies whether they liked it or not

“Shay, two more cups please!”

God, Lance was done. Grabbing the bag off the counter, he shot Shay a tired smile

“Wish me luck”

“Better you than me. Have fun”

Like that was going to happen. With a wave, Lance wandered towards the door. Behind him Hunk had been nominated to help Pidge with her slushies. What kind of idiot just opened their home up to strangers? His Mami would be so disappointed... Actually, she’d tell him it was the right thing to do, which only made him feel worse.

#klance #vld au #ashratherose #on ao3 #vampire Lance

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ficklefics · 4 years

Text

Purpose - Part 2: Honesty Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

Jeremiah has set you apart from the others. But who he is is still a mystery. And you still don't know what he wants with you.

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Violence, Threat to life, Murder, Family loss, Depression

Ecco had taken you to an office and left you there, the door locking behind her. Cupboards lined the walls, and a table dominated the floor, accompanied by a few chairs. The only light came from a flickering bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. You immediately try to open the cupboards, looking for something to help you, but they’re all locked tight. You throw yourself into one of the seats, wincing as splinters dig into your thighs. How did you get yourself into this mess? And even more importantly, how are you going to get out of it?

You stand up, determined that you aren’t just going to sit down and let this happen to you. You wanted answers, and you would get them, no matter what. The door can’t be that strong, not if it’s as decrepit as it looks. You cross the room and begin to slam your hands against it. It shakes in its hinges, but other than that it doesn’t change. You kick it in frustration and thump your forehead against the cold wood, groaning. There must be a way out. You just had to think.

Before you get a chance to do so, you hear heavy footsteps approaching the door. At the last moment, you back up before it slams open. It’s him. Jeremiah. Whoever Jeremiah is. He strides past you, as though you aren’t even there. The door slams shut, and you begin to inch towards it. If you made a break for it now, you might be able to get away before he even notices you. But you shake that idea away as soon as it appears – just because he hasn’t acknowledged you doesn’t mean he isn’t paying attention to your every movement, every breath. He unlocks one of the cupboards, pulling out rolls of paper and tossing them onto the table. He discards his hat and jacket, leaving him in a white button-down and black waistcoat, with a blood-red tie. His hair is like ink, almost green in the dull light. Now that you can take the time to look at him, his beauty is even more evident. He’s hunched over the table, muttering once more as he examines the papers. They look like blueprints, and maybe a map of Gotham, but it’s difficult to tell from a distance. You watch as his eyes dart across the pages, as his lips twitch. You wish you could know what was going through his mind. He stands there for so long, apparently oblivious to you, that you begin to wonder if he actually hasn’t seen you. But just as you start to suspect his head snaps up, pale eyes locked with yours.

“I assume you have questions?” He straightens up, eyes never leaving you. Something about his voice makes you tremble slightly – you’re not sure what. A torrent of questions floods your mind: Why am I here? What do you want from me? But one spills out ahead of the rest. “Who are you?” His lip twitches, almost a smile. “Who am I…” He steps around the table closer to you, and you instinctively step back. You may not know he is, but you know he’s dangerous – you had to kill someone to even meet him, for fuck's sake. Your fear makes him chuckle. “That guy – the other survivor – he acted as though I should know who you are. He said… “You’re the reason we’re all here.”” His smile grows darker, excited in a way, as though he can’t wait until you find out who he is. “You did something. Something important. What?” There it is. The real question. What did Jeremiah do to have so much power, for so many people to worship him, for so many people to fear him? “I think you already know the answer to your question, (Y/N).” You shake your head, confused. He tilts his head, the smugness building. “I’m the person you’re looking for.” The person I’m… Oh. Your mouth drops open in shock. It was him. It was all him. “You did it. You destroyed Gotham.” “Not quite as much as I’d wanted to, but a little destruction is better than none.” You’re shaking. It was him. All him. Before now you had planned out everything you would do when you met the person responsible for ruining your life. Ask them why, force them to answer you, make them pay for what they did. But now that he was right in front of you, only a few steps away, you were frozen. Jeremiah was watching your reaction, still smiling. Something about that smile… you snapped. “You bastard!” You step forward and grab his shirt, fully intending to make him suffer, but before you can do anything his hands are on you, the smile gone – he twists one arm behind your back with an unimaginable strength, his other hand gripping your hair as he forces you against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick. You yelp, struggling against the pain blooming, but his grip is like a vice – bruising, unrelenting. “True, but that’s not the point.” His body is flush against your back, and when he speaks his cold lips brush your ear. You let out a shaky gasp, your eyes wide. “What are you going to do with me?” You feel him chuckle. “Well, that all depends on you. Will you behave, or do I have to kill you?” At some point he must have released your hair, because now you feel a sharp blade against the side of your neck, making you draw in a sharp breath. “Please… please don’t kill me…” You can’t breathe. This is worse than the roulette. One false move and you’ll be sliced open, and you know Jeremiah would leave you to bleed out on the floor whether he had intended to kill you or not. The blade glides across your skin, up and over your cheek, brushing your hair back and nicking your ear. He smiles against you, and you prepare for the worst. “I won’t.” He steps away and you collapse against the wall, gasping for breath. “For now.” He leaves you there while he opens another cupboard, pulling out a black suit jacket and slipping it on. “Follow me.” You follow his instruction immediately – you don’t know why – catching up to him in the corridor outside the room. “You still haven’t explained.” He ignores you, striding through the maze of corridors, moving away from the sounds of digging. “What do you want with me?” “You’re different from my other recruits, (Y/N). They would follow me blindly to the ends of the earth – they do.” He’s leading you up a flight of stairs now. You’re still confused, not seeing what that has to do with you. “I can’t trust them. They would do anything to get ahead in my favour. But you-” He stops abruptly and turns towards you. You stumble to a stop, surprised. He grips your chin once more, examining your face, your wide eyes, lips parted from hurrying to keep up with him. You watch him, scared to make any noise or movement. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you (Y/N)?” You shake your head as much as you can; propelled by both honesty and fear. You wouldn’t lie, you know that, but you don’t want to think about what would happen to you if you weren’t special, if you weren’t different from the others who had come to this insane cult. “Even if you were scared that I wouldn’t like the answer?” Your agreement with him comes less easily this time, but you nod. “Good.” His hand drops to your shoulder pushing you up the final set of stairs. He gestures for you to open the door in front of you, and you hesitate only for a moment before doing so. You are immediately met with a burning sunset casting Gotham in orange light. Your mouth falls open – you haven’t seen anything so beautiful since before the bridges were destroyed. Since Jeremiah destroyed the bridges. You can’t forget that it was him. That he is the one who destroyed your life. You can play along, for now, you have to, but you can’t let yourself be ensnared by his charms. You take a small step forward, glancing back to Jeremiah for permission. He nods and you keep going to the very edge of the roof. From here you can see Gotham spread out before you, a beautiful ruin. Fires burn, buildings are closer to rubble, people shout and yell and sob, but it’s all dimmed by the vivid oranges and pinks that wash over it all. “Why would you want to destroy this?” You wonder aloud. Gotham was never perfect, but it had a heart, a soul, one that struggled on despite the adversity it faced on a daily basis. “You don’t see the imperfections.” You jump at the closeness of his voice. Somehow he has silently moved to stand directly behind your shoulder, just to your left, looking across the city with you. “I did not intend to destroy it for destruction's sake – I am not my brother.” His brother… Jerome. You knew you recognised the name, but only now do you make the connection between the inhuman nightmare standing beside you and the chaotic terror that brought Gotham to its knees on his every outing. “I sought to create a new Gotham, a better one. I didn’t want people to die. Destroying the bridges was a last resort.” “But people still died.” “A shame. But a necessary sacrifice.” “My family was a “necessary sacrifice”?” You spit, stepping away from him, his presence fuelling the anger that has returned. “My friends?” “I didn’t kill your family, (Y/N),” He’s getting impatient now. You can hear it in his voice. “That was the people of Gotham. The people that you would seek to protect. The people that wouldn’t be welcome in my new world.” His new world… “Would I be welcome?” The question is like acid on your tongue. But you can’t stop yourself from asking it. “Again, that all depends on you.” He steps closer and you force yourself to stay still. “I need you to trust me, and only me, completely.” “I don’t know if I can do that,” He said not to lie, and you’re sure that he’d know if you did. He lowers his head and sighs. You hold your breath. “That’s very disappointing, (Y/N).” His hand flies up and wraps around your throat – you instinctively try to yelp, but your airflow has been cut off, and you merely let out a pitiful whine. He pulls you towards him so that his forehead is pressed against yours, forcing you to balance on the tips of your toes. When he speaks you feel his lips move against yours. “If you can’t do that, if I can’t be certain of you, then truly, I have no use for you.” His arm straightens and you find yourself being held over the edge of the building. You cling to his forearm, tears of fear and pain forming at the corners of your eyes. You hate yourself for how weak you are. “Please, I can try, I will, please-” He groans, his hand flexing around your neck. “I just don’t know if you’re the right one, (Y/N). How can I, when you fight me like this?” Your heart aches at the disappointment in his voice. Rationally you know it shouldn’t matter, but you’ve been so alone for so long… Maybe Jeremiah can make you whole again. “I’m sorry. I’m scared, confused.” Your voice is broken up by desperate sobbing. He tilts his head at you, examining you clinically. “Please, Jeremiah. I know I can do what you want me to.” “Can you?” You nod rapidly, whimpering as his hand loosens and you glance down to see the fall awaiting you. “Prove it.” “I’ll do anything; anything you want me to do.” “Let go of my arm.” Your mind screams at you, your body tenses in resistance, but you release him obediently. Now the only thing keeping you from falling is Jeremiah. Your hands twitch by your sides, grabbing at your jeans, seeking any sort of purchase. He smiles, a cold, menacing smile.

“Good.”

And he lets go.

PART THREE

Tags:@yagurlrosie @yagirljoana @psychobitchtess @mistressoftorture

#jeremiah imagine #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #purpose #honesty #ecco #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #gotham x reader

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insfiringyou · 5 years

Text

BTS - A Celebration to Forget (All Members)

Contains: Fluff. Smut. Humour. Cheating. Breakups. Fingering in public. Oral sex. Presumed vaginal sex. Angst. New relationships forming.

V throws his girlfriend Cassandra a surprise party at a suburban hotel to celebrate her getting a part in a stage production of Cats. The alcohol-fuelled party acts as a catalyst for regretful acts, a breakup and a new relationship being formed. This is set after the events of ‘The Play’ but before Suga desperately proposes to Jeong-sun in ‘Stranded’, prior to their breakup.

This is a major chapter in our headcanon universe (find out more about our headcanon universe plot and characters here) and involves all members of BTS and most of their headcanon girlfriends: Cassandra (V’s gf), Angel (Jimin’s gf), Jeong-sun (Suga’s gf), Ji-eun (RM’s gf) Min-seo (Jin’s gf) and Young-soon (Jungkook’s gf). Supreme Boi is also here and this fic introduces Ara (Jimin’s second girlfriend).

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below cut

PART ONE

The low murmur of chatter from the kitchen drifted through the hallway and Jungkook clutched his cell closer, shifting a little to the left to allow Yoongi to bypass him on the stairs. The older male was likewise talking on the phone and, while he would never ask, Jungkook had some idea of who might be on the other end of the line. He had not yet spotted the dark-haired girl he had once seen kissing Yoongi here tonight, and wondered if his band-mate was feeling as sad about her absence as he was his girlfriend’s. They had been in China for the past week and he hadn’t yet had the chance to visit Young-soon since returning to Seoul the previous evening. While he had spoken to her on the phone throughout the trip, all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and see her smile as he picked her up and spun her around in the hallway of her apartment. He also couldn’t wait to give her the giant stuffed panda he had bought for her at the sanctuary in Sichuan.

“Are you sure you can’t come later?” Jungkook asked his girlfriend for the third time that evening. He was seated on the third step of the grand staircase which adorned the foyer.

“The conference doesn’t finish until midnight.” She sighed on the other end of the phone. “They’re doing it on FaceTime with someone from America. I’ve got to watch the desk until then.”

“What are you doing?” He asked, thinking she sounded incredibly bored.

“Playing Solitaire.” She smirked. He could just about hear the low noise of the computer game in the background and couldn’t help but smile sweetly to himself. His cheeks had been rosy since she had answered the phone ten minutes before; the sound of her voice comforting him. “You could always come here.”

He shook his head although she couldn’t see him. “Taehyung would kill me. He’s been planning the surprise for over a week.”

“What musical was it again?”

“Cats.”

“Does she have a big part?” Young-soon was referring to Cassandra, Taehyung’s girlfriend. The news had come shortly before their visit abroad and the older member had been unable to stop himself from talking about it almost non-stop all week.

“Not really, but it’s her first time in such a big venue.” He moved against the wall to let a couple he didn’t recognise squeeze past him. “Taehyung says she’s really excited about it.”

“Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will...” His voice drifted off as the sound of laughter from across the hall caught his attention. He peered through the slits of the banister to look through the doorway where he could just about spot Cassandra and Taehyung talking to Donghyuk by the drinks counter in the kitchen. The woman had dyed her hair from its natural brown to a deep cherry red colour, matching the rose, deliberately or otherwise, which adorned Taehyung’s lapel. While Jungkook had spoken to her on a number of occasions, he always found himself tongue tied. She seemed perfectly nice and easy to get along with; at least Yoongi and Hoseok never seemed antsy around her, but the image of her completely nude on stage with her pale body streaked in artificial blood, always seemed to come back to him at the most inopportune moments. Young-soon had laughed when he explained this to her, saying he shouldn’t get so wound up whenever he sees a pair of breasts, but he had to protest that she hadn’t been at the play, and therefore had no idea just how intense the plot had been.

On the stairs, Jungkook groaned. “It’s no fun without you. Everyone else has brought their girlfriend.” He complained, picking at a loose thread in his jeans with boredom.

“You’ve got Hoseok...and Yoongi.” His girlfriend reassured.

“Yoongi’s on the phone to someone.” He said, not correcting her on the fact that, if his suspicions were true, Yoongi wasn’t as single as he once assumed. “And I can’t find Hoseok.” He thought about it. “I’ll probably go home soon anyway.”

“Well, I’ve got to go.” Young-soon said. The sound of the computer game in the background had ceased and Jungkook suspected her boss had just walked through the door. “Try to have fun.”

“I will.” He said without much confidence, bottom lip sticking out a little. “I love you.” He finished.

“You too. See you Tuesday.” She hung up.

Upstairs, Yoongi heard Jimin and Angel approaching the spare bedroom he was currently occupying, voices raised. He had been looking for somewhere quiet to speak to Jeong-sun, with the downstairs area being too rowdy and raucous, but most of the second floor rooms were already taken. He stood up from the edge of the bed and slipped out the door, giving them both a brief wave with his spare hand as he entered the first guest bathroom he found and closed the door behind him.

“Where did you say the hotel was?” Jeong-sun asked, her voice clear on the other end of the phone despite the hundred miles or more between them.

“It’s near Hwangsong Park.” He murmured, pacing the small room a little. The suburban hotel, which was typically used to host weddings, 21st birthdays and anniversaries, boasted a quiet back garden, fifteen en-suite guest rooms and a mini golf course.

“That’s quite far...did you get a taxi?”

“I drove Hoseok and Jungkook.” He explained. “Supreme Boi’s been renting it on Air BnB for the past month.”

“You’re company are clearly paying him too much.” Jeong-sun said, the smirk in her voice obvious.

“I think he won the jackpot on a scratchcard.” Yoongi shrugged. He had heard this from Jimin and suspected it was likely true. Over the past six months, Donghyuk had not been shy when it came to flashing his cash at every possible opportunity. His girlfriend echoed his suspicions a second later.

“That would explain the party on the yacht.”

There was a moment of silence as Yoongi smiled to himself. There had been no real need to call her other than wanting to hear her voice. She was already in Gwangju when he returned from China and the need to have her close to him, in some way or another, was overwhelming.

“This bathroom has heated flooring...” He murmured, sliding off his sneaker to feel its heat against the sole of his foot.

“Are you that bored?” He gathered she was rolling her eyes and grinned, knowing she was right.

“I just like talking to you...” He shrugged to himself. “How’s your dad?”

“The usual. He wants to take me fishing tomorrow.”

His lips widened in a toothy grin. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought of his girlfriend in a body warmer and wide-brimmed hat, sensing it was the last thing she wanted to spend her time off work doing.

“It’s not that funny...” She sneered.

“I know.” He calmed himself down. “You might enjoy it...” He suggested, predicting her answer before it came.

“I doubt it.”

Outside the bathroom, Jimin and Angel headed back downstairs, edging against the banister to avoid Jungkook who was playing a darts game on his phone without much vigour. They walked across the foyer and stood in the kitchen doorway, glancing around the crowd of guests.

“Which one is she?” Angel asked, brushing her dyed blonde hair over her shoulder casually. It had gotten a little tangled during their brief tryst in the bedroom where she had attempted to get him worked up with the palm of her hand. Frustratingly, he had protested that he wasn’t in the mood. Despite it being so unlike him to turn down the opportunity for a quick release, she had felt somewhat relieved.

“Don’t you recognise her?” Jimin frowned as he pointed at a girl with red hair in the centre of the room.

“She’s changed her hair.” The comment came out a little cattily. “Where’s she from again?”

“Holland I think...”

“What language does she speak?”

Jimin shrugged as they entered the room, moving automatically towards the counter which boasted a number of alcoholic drinks. He had only heard Cassandra speaking in his own native tongue. “Korean?”

Angel ignored his answer as she looked around the room, a little bored. She noticed a white man in the corner who seemed to be the focus of attention with a group of men and wondered if, like Cassandra, he worked in the theatre. “Do you think he’s got a girlfriend?” She murmured to Jimin, pointing discreetly at the man.

“I don’t know. Why?” He glanced at the figure with an air of indifference.

She shrugged. “He seems quite popular.”

“I don’t recognise him.” Jimin said, making Angel frown. She had expected a different type of reaction from him. Jimin walked towards the marble counter and was bumped into by a short woman wearing a baby blue camisole and matching shorts who appeared to be likewise making a beeline for the alcohol.

“Sorry...” He apologised, stepping aside to allow her to go first. He turned back to Angel who was unintentionally watching the woman as she poured herself a glass of vodka and orange juice, her eyes fixed on her tanned legs, visible below the short hem of her shorts. There was something strange about her outfit which Angel didn’t quite have the inclination to focus too much on.

“Do you want a drink?” Jimin asked his girlfriend.

She nodded, blinking. “Something strong.”

Across the room, Namjoon and Ji-eun stood opposite Cassandra and Taehyung as they sipped their glasses of red wine. The two couples could not have looked more different, with the older pair dressed smartly in matching black. In contrast, Cassandra wore a long, floaty paisley print maxi dress and Taehyung boasted a suit in a dizzying, royal blue; the red rose in his lapel complimenting the splash of colour well.

“How many weeks is it running?” Ji-eun asked the other woman politely as she drank from her glass. Namjoon’s hand brushed her hip gently, holding her beside him.

“Just twelve.” Cassandra replied. “The original cast member dropped out with an injury, so I got the call back two weeks ago.” She glanced at her boyfriend with a relieved smile. “I couldn’t believe it.”

Taehyung smiled back, his pride in her evident.

Ji-eun placed her hand on top of her boyfriends and met his gaze, inadvertently mirroring the pose of the couple opposite. “That’s great. We’ll have to get tickets...” She tried to sound enthusiastic but it came off a little awkward. She knew that, like herself, Namjoon would be thinking of the last play they had seen together, where Cassandra had stripped off completely on stage.

The other woman didn’t seem to notice the slight apprehension in Ji-eun’s voice. “I’ll sort something out. There’ll be plenty of tickets for everyone at the matinee.” She beamed.

Taehyung looked at her hungrily, sneaking his hand across her shoulder. “I don’t want Jungkook seeing you in that little leotard...” His fingers brushed through the ends of her red ponytail in a gesture which seemed surprisingly intimate for the public space they occupied. “And that tail as well.” He purred, gazing down at her beneath thick black eyelashes.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably. “Is it a singing part?” He asked

She nodded, looking at him. “A duet. Macavity.”

Taehyung smirked, moving her hair over to her other shoulder playfully. “It’s about a very naughty cat.” He sensually skimmed her neck with his fingertips.

Namjoon nodded. “I know. I’ve seen it on Broadway.”

Ji-eun moved from foot to foot beside him, clearly feeling just as awkward.

Brushing her cheekbone with his knuckle, Taehyung smirked. “Shall we go and find Eric Shun?” He murmured, making her giggle loudly. Her cheeks turned pink as she clasped his hand in hers.

“Yeah...I have to thank him.” She nodded, letting him lead her from the room.

“See you later.”Ji-eun called after them before turning to her boyfriend, quizzically. “Who’s Eric Shun? Is he foreign?”

Namjoon sighed, watching as the young couple headed up the staircase, just visible through the open doorway. “It’s a made up name.”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “I thought he just had cruel parents.”

Namjoon grinned and pulled her by the hips to nestle closely against him. She sighed loudly, feeling his fingers move along the curve of her waist beneath the silky black fabric. “I feel overdressed.”

He shook his head, skimming upwards until he reached her spine. The dress was incredibly low cut at the back, exposing her smooth, condensed milk coloured skin. “Don’t be silly.” He protested, murmuring quietly against her ear. “That dress looks really sexy on you.”

She couldn’t help but smile as his low voice vibrated through her body but quickly moved away when she spotted Jin and Min-seo walking into the kitchen. Jin approached them looking a little dishevelled and warm; unbuttoning the top button of his white shirt beneath his suit. His girlfriend trailed closely behind, tugging the hem of her knee-length lilac dress and smoothing out the crumples which had formed in the delicate material.

“Sorry we’re late, the taxi broke down.” Jin explained, dabbing his perspiring forehead with the back of his hand. “Is everyone already here?”

Namjoon nodded. “We got here about an hour ago.”

“Where’s Taehyung and Cassandra?” Jin asked.

“They went to see Eric Shun.” Namjoon said blankly.

Jin threw back his head in laughter as Min-seo clutched at his sleeve, smiling shyly. “What, what?”

He shook his head and reached for her hand, taking it gently. “It doesn’t matter.” He recovered himself. “I’ll tell you later.”

Ji-eun, glad to see Min-seo, stepped forward. “Do you want to get a drink?”

The younger woman smiled and nodded, stepping away from the two men. Ji-eun linked arms with her easily. Since their first meeting on Donghyuk’s rented yacht several months before, they had gone on several double dates together with their boyfriends as well as one memorable solo shopping trip where Ji-eun had tempted Min-seo into buying herself a new set of underwear and nightgown to wear for Jin. The younger woman had protested a number of revealing garments with a polite and awkward blush, but had agreed on a silky pink night dress which, she had to admit, accentuated her cleavage nicely while covering her stomach and thighs. She had yet to wear it for Jin, feeling bashful whenever she thought of donning it.

Ji-eun led her towards the drinks counter, only stopping to nod her head at a shorter woman who had left the table when she saw them approaching. “Is she wearing pyjamas?” The older woman asked, picking up on the strange detail that Angel, earlier, couldn’t quite place. The matching blue shorts and cami the woman was wearing was certainly not designed for everyday use and looked out of place at the party. Min-seo turned to watch her leave the room as she walked towards the foyer. She shrugged easily and Ji-eun shook her head with a frown.

“I don’t recognise her.” The older woman said. “She must know Supreme Boi.”

Min-seo smiled as they passed another of Jin’s band-mates she recognised. His hair was dyed bleach blonde and was wearing a patterned white shirt and a pair of well-fitting navy trousers; somehow able to look both formal and casual. “Hi Yoongi.” She smiled, timid and mouse-like. He turned politely to say hello.

“Did you come with -” Min-seo started, meaning to ask about Jeong-sun. Despite only meeting her twice, she had found her instantly likeable; a calming and reliable respite from the intimidating people she usually ran into at parties. While she had grown to feel more comfortable around Namjoon’s girlfriend as they spent more time together, she couldn’t help but still be a little anxious when they were alone, particularly when Ji-eun asked her questions regarding her sex life with Jin. She knew it was only natural to be curious and that it was something most women discussed with their friends, but she still felt that it should be kept private. She couldn’t help but speculate that Jeong-sun would have the same reaction if asked and that, like herself, she would want the details of what happened in private with Yoongi to stay that way. She wondered if they could invite her the next time they went shopping. She had never heard Ji-eun mention Jeong-sun, but then again she had never heard her talk about Jimin’s girlfriend either.

“Do you want a cocktail?” Ji-eun interrupted, pointing towards the variety of bottles which littered the counter.

“Oh, what?” Min-seo’s thoughts were scattered as she turned to look at the older woman.

“They have plenty of mixers.”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” She turned back to Yoongi, realising he was still waiting patiently for her to reply. She waved a little awkwardly as Ji-eun pulled her away towards the counter. “See you later Yoongi.”

He smiled at her before weaving his way through the crowd and into the foyer. Ji-eun watched him go. “I always see him on his own. Never with the others...” She commented, unfastening the screw-top lid to a bottle of clear liquid.

Min-seo followed her gaze, noticing the way he clutched his phone to his ear before he left. “I think he’s just shy.”

“Namjoon doesn’t seem to think so. He told me he writes a lot of their songs.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Min-seo watched as Ji-eun poured a couple of cap-fulls of the liquid into a red plastic cup. She hovered the bottle above a second cup.

“Do you want vodka?”

In the hallway, Yoongi grasped his phone, struggling to be overheard over the clatter of noise. “Hang on Jeong-sun, I can’t hear you...I’m just going to step outside.” He noticed the front door had been propped open and walked towards it, stepping past the staircase. Jungkook had since left his spot on the third step but Yoongi could hear his voice, protesting quietly.

“I’m not drinking...”

“Come on JK. It’s a party, you have to drink!” Donghyuk complained. Yoongi glanced around the hall, looking for the source of the voices.

“Yeah, it’s a party...” He heard Hoseok echo, agreeing with Supreme Boi. He figured they must be upstairs, just out of sight. The vastness of the foyer was making their voices bounce in strange directions.

“I made some punch I think you’d like.” Donghyuk offered.

“Oh, the punch is great!” Hoseok exclaimed, clearly a little tipsy himself. “It tastes like mangoes!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as he stepped out the front door. “Better.” He pressed the phone back to his ear and began to follow the curve of the building around to the spacious garden at the back.

“I said he uses a spinning rod.” Jeong-sun said, carrying on the conversation they had started in the foyer.

“For fishing?”

“No, for pulling girls.”

Yoongi grinned at her dry reply and took a seat on the patio. Several sets of metal tables and chairs adorned the space around the back of the building and he chose one with an ashtray.

She continued. “He got his bait mixed up with his beef sandwich filling the other day, he keeps it all in the freezer.”

“Your dad sounds fun.” He smiled.

“He ate it anyway. Apparently it doesn’t taste too bad with brown sauce and garlic.”

Yoongi could hear the grin in her voice. He paused, thinking. “How long are you in Gwangju for again?”

“A week.”

He sighed. “I’ll be in Tokyo when you get back...” He said sadly.

“I figured.” Her voice had a tone of acceptance to it which Yoongi found hard to swallow. There was a pause before she spoke again. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

He remained silent as he turned around to glance through the window behind him which looked into one end of the kitchen. He could just about make out the two figures in the corner. “Jimin and Angel are arguing.” He murmured. Even from this distance, he could see the way she was avoiding his touch and, earlier on, he had heard them bickering upstairs.

“I know, she told me.” Jeong-sun confirmed.

“How bad?”

“I wouldn’t buy your best man suit just yet.” She grimaced.

“He’d ask Tae first.” He murmured, thinking. “I think she’s a bit much for him.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause before she spoke. “She’s a bit much for me sometimes.” She admitted reluctantly. In the background, Yoongi could hear the loud sounds of splashing water and the huffs and puffs of a man struggling with something. If he didn’t know better, the noise could be interpreted as something vulgar. He grinned, despite himself.

“What’s your dad watching?”

“Deadliest Catch.” She said drolly, making Yoongi laugh.

“Why’s it so loud?”

“He refuses to get a hearing aid. I told him he could use my discount.”

Yoongi smirked, knowing it was no good. From what she had told him about her father, he seemed ridiculously stubborn. Turning to face the garden, he heard Hoseok’s loud, echoing laughs from somewhere around the corner. In the other direction, he observed a lone figure walking around the side of the house, clutching a red plastic cup.

“Jungkook’s wandering around like a lost puppy.” He commented, watching as the maknae stumbled on a piece of loose AstroTurf and almost lost his footing.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” Jeong-sun asked, curiously.

“Yeah. She couldn’t make it.” The younger male turned back the way he came, realising the garden was almost deserted, and disappeared back into the house.

“What about Hoseok?” Jeong-sun asked.

“I can hear him but I can’t see him...” He smirked and, as if on cue, his best friend turned the corner from the opposite direction he had seen Jungkook leave. “Here he comes.” Yoongi grinned as he climbed the stone steps onto the patio and stumbled over drunkenly. The younger male slipped the phone from Yoongi silently and pressed it to his ear.

“Hi Jeong-sun!” He exclaimed noisily, immediately knowing who was on the line. “Why aren’t you here?” He tottered from foot to foot on the paving.

Yoongi could hear his girlfriend’s voice on the other end as he got up from the patio chair. “I’m in Gwangju at the minute.”

“Wow!” Hoseok proclaimed. “How’s the weather?”

“Humid. My dad’s taking me fishing on the river tomorrow.”

“Oh, I used to love going there! Make sure you take mosquito repellent.” He blurted, stumbling a little over his own feet.

“I will.” She agreed easily.

“What have you been drinking?” Yoongi grimaced, his lips tugging upwards in an abashed smile.

“I don’t know, Donghyuk gave me it.” Hoseok admitted as Yoongi took the phone from him.

“That’s a bad idea.” He moved the cell to his ear.

“I’ve just had one!”

“Go get some water.” He instructed before sitting back down on the chair.

“He sounds like he’s having a good time.” Jeong-sun chuckled.

“He won’t be in an hour.” Yoongi observed him on the decking by the edge of the garden, standing beside Donghyuk who swiftly handed him another cup of punch. Hoseok sipped it greedily, making Yoongi roll his eyes. He turned back to the phone. “I miss you.”

“Don’t think about it.” His girlfriend advised. “I’ll see you soon - after Tokyo.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I’ll bring you back some Matcha.”

“Don’t bother, it tastes like snot.”

He snickered under his breath, not wanting to draw Donghyuk’s attention. “I love you.”

“You too. Take care of Hoseok.”

He smiled and shook his head, reluctant to hang up. “I’ll try.”

PART TWO

“I kept the leotard on for you...” Cassandra breathed sultrily as she finished unfastening the final button on Taehyung’s white shirt. The blue suit had been discarded in the next room on the double bed along with her tights and shoes. He smirked, brushing the wide sleeves of her dress from her shoulders and stretching the elasticated bodice down her body. The ginger and white tabby stripes of her Lycra costume became visible as he uncovered her, pulling the loose bust of her oversized dress away from her breasts and allowing the fabric to pool at her feet. The small en-suite they were currently occupying was in the room Donghyuk had taken as his own. They figured, after testing several of the guest rooms and finding them locked, they were less likely to be disturbed in the master suite.

“You forgot to bring the ears.” Taehyung murmured as she turned herself around to grind slightly against his crotch. He let out a low, carnal moan at her touch and she stepped away, teasingly. Frustrated, he hooked his forefinger beneath the elastic at her bottom and pulled her closer, making her gasp loudly.

“I didn’t know you were throwing me a party.” She smirked, her breath increasing as he brushed his hands along the partially exposed curves of her fleshy backside and up along her ribs, gliding easily along the smooth fabric. “Why does Donghyuk have pineapple capsules in his bathroom?” She muttered in a breathy voice as his hands cupped her breasts and pushed them together. They were facing the glass cabinet above the toilet, watching each other’s expressions in the mirror as he slipped his fingers beneath the bust of her leotard, running his fingertips gently along her cleavage. The bottle of capsules, placed on the shelf below the mirror had caught her eye.

“Why do you think?” He smirked, meeting her gaze in the glass as he slowly pulled down her top, stretching the material over the fleshy roundness of her breasts until her pink nipples were visible. His lips moved to the side of her neck where he kissed along the flesh sensually, opening his mouth against her skin and making her whine as his palms cupped her chest. He massaged her bare breasts erotically in circular motions.

“Won’t he be mad?” Cassandra moaned as Taehyung took a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it briefly.

In reply, Taehyung reached forward with his spare hand and tugged on the draw below the mirrored cabinet, opening it. Cassandra glanced down at the array of condoms which filled the draw. Every brand and variety she could think of were represented there and she couldn’t help but smirk at Donghyuk’s blatant confidence as she pulled one out at random.

“Glow in the dark?” She grinned, meeting Taehyung’s eyes in the mirror once more.

“In case the lights go out.” He breathed against her neck, touching his tongue to the skin there briefly before he let go of her body and shuffled in front of her, getting down on his knees between the cabinet and the toilet. She smirked as he ran his palm along her exposed thigh, easing her leg onto the closed lid of the commode to gain better access as he slipped his finger under the gusset of her leotard and eased the fabric to the side. His head slipped between her thighs easily as he ran his tongue along her exposed core, savouring her the taste of her pink slit as he ate her out hungrily.

Watching as he crouched beneath her, she grasped her large breasts in both hands, massaging them and snapping her head back in pleasure at the feel of his mouth on her quickly-swelling clitoris. He moaned into her wantonly as he opened his mouth wide against her pussy, assaulting her with quick, sloppy motions as he slipped his arms around her back to pull her into him by the arse. Needing more, she grasped a handful of his brunette hair and pushed his face desperately into her crotch; savouring his animal-like grunts as he stuck out his tongue and lapped at her like she was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

They almost didn’t hear the bathroom door open, if not for the cries of “Oh god! Occupied!” which echoed around the tiled room. They both turned in unison to look at the source of the outcry and found Hoseok jolting backwards in a desperate attempt to close the door.

Taehyung, his lips and chin glistening with Cassandra’s juices and his fingers still hooked around her leotard and holding the gusset away from her slick pink opening, grew increasingly frustrated as Hoseok fell backwards onto his backside as he scrambled into the bedroom next door. Cassandra watched on, too shocked to move and cover herself, as the older male made an attempt to grasp the inside handle and failed miserably.

“Close the door!” Taehyung called out, heatedly. Hoseok nodded and pushed the door with his feet, managing to get it shut.

“What’s going on?” A female voice asked from the bedroom doorway. Cassandra thought she recognised it as belonging to Ji-eun.

“Don’t go in there!” Hoseok cried as he got to his feet. “Tae’s in there!”

In the bathroom, Taehyung rolled his eyes as Hoseok ratted him out. He moved back in to kiss Cassandra, pulling the stretchy fabric further aside as he closed his lips around her clitoris, pecking it a couple of times.

“Is he okay?” She asked above him, her hand resting awkwardly on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I don’t care at the moment...” He murmured bitchily, pressing his pout against her wet nub. “I hope he broke something.” He continued to capture her clit, alternating between chaste, closed-mouth pecks and gentle nibbles.

Sighing above him, she reluctantly pushed him away. “Come on. Let’s get dressed.”

Outside the bedroom, Ji-eun followed a very startled Hoseok down into the foyer where they separated. Hoseok went into the kitchen to find some more alcohol in an attempt to forget the sight he had just witnessed while she side-stepped the woman in the blue pyjamas who was munching on a bread stick. She looked around the downstairs rooms for her boyfriend, not noticing the stranger walk out of the open door and into the garden. The woman followed the terrace around the building until she came to the wide patio outside the kitchen.

Yoongi was alone at one of the tables, smoking a cigarette. He flicked the ash from the end into the terracotta tray indifferently, thinking about nothing in particular, when the short woman caught his eye. She smiled softly and sauntered over to the circular table, the knitted boot-style slippers on her feet making no sound against the pavement. Her features, while not unattractive, were slightly unremarkable and forgettable; the fact she was a couple of inches shorter than average being her only truly discernible feature other than her bigger than average bust which jutted over the top of her low-cut camisole. While he was sure he had never seen her before, she reminded him of someone.

Slowly, she sank down onto the chair opposite him, wincing a little as the cold metal connected with her bare thighs. Yoongi took a deep drag of his cigarette, closing one eye against the pillar of smoke as he watched her reach out for the half-full packet he had left on the table. Her eyes never left his as she smirked and took a cigarette from the packet before lighting it with his purple clipper. She returned it to the table and inhaled slowly, wanting a reaction from him.

Yoongi glanced at her, unimpressed. “Sorry, I’m taken.” He said.

She blew out the smoke messily and stood up. Yoongi’s eyes followed her nonchalantly as she walked back the way she came across the patio, blowing out frustrated columns of smoke as she disappeared around the corner. She skulked past Namjoon who was seated at another table near a flower bed of fragrant roses and threw a cold look at Ji-eun as they passed.

Namjoon watched this exchange with amusement. “What was that about?” He asked as his girlfriend joined him behind the table.

She shook her head. “No idea. Did you see she’s wearing pyjamas?”

Namjoon smirked. “Maybe she’s a guest at the hotel. Donghyuk didn’t say whether anyone else was renting along with him.”

“Maybe.” Ji-eun agreed listlessly as she placed her palm on his knee. “Min-seo and Jin went home. She has work tomorrow.” She began to stroke his thigh softly. “What are you up to?” She asked.

“It was too hot inside.” He explained while watching her hand. “It’s a nice night.”

She murmured in agreement and he touched her slender waist, encouraging her onto his knee.

“You look really sexy...” He murmured, pressing his lips against her dark hair and inhaling her raspberry scent along with the soft floral of the fragrance she wore. His hand ran across her exposed knee as she wrapped her arms loosely around his wide shoulders, feeling secure.

She smiled at him, embracing his desire as he echoed her movement and stroked her thigh. “I’m glad you think so.”

He nodded, refusing to drop her gaze as he slipped his hand higher, brushing it under the black hem of the fabric. “It’s really short.” He murmured in a low voice as he felt between her thighs, teasing her soft, cool skin before pressing upwards, slipping his fingers along the smoothness of her labia. His breath hitched. “Too short not to be wearing underwear...”

She smirked, pressing her nose to his with a grin. “I was wondering when you would notice.” His hand was paused against her slit and she sighed, quickly looking around to check that nobody was looking. “Don’t stop...” She whispered against his lips, gasping when she felt two fingers push between her folds and find the tight ring of her entrance.

Across the terrace, Yoongi finally stood up from his seat, feeling his backside and thighs growing numb from the cold metal and knowing if he stayed where he was he would be tempted to call Jeong-sun again. He decided to take a walk. He spotted Namjoon and Ji-eun seated around the corner in a shady part of the garden, locked in an embrace and kept his distance, his gaze fixed on the dim gravel pathway which snaked its way through the AstroTurf. Ji-eun noticed his presence and briefly pulled Namjoon’s hand away from the space between her thighs, tugging down the short hem of her dress until she saw his blonde hair disappear behind the garden wall.

Jungkook was seated alone on the steps which led to the back door, chin resting against his knuckle in a pose which looked eerily like the statue of the thinking man. Yoongi offered a small wave as he joined him. The sight of Namjoon and Ji-eun being so affectionate together in public had brought another stab of longing to Yoongi’s chest as it occurred to him that even if Jeong-sun had been able to come tonight, they would have found themselves sneaking around like horny teenagers afraid of being caught necking by their parents, in an attempt to not be seen. Now, here was Jungkook sulking and drunk because Young-soon had been at work. Yoongi tried to remind himself that they were both alone and gloomy for the same reason, but he found it hard to feel as sorry for the maknae as he was currently feeling for himself. At least the other members knew about Young-soon.

“How are you feeling?” He asked Jungkook, pulling another cigarette disinterestedly from the pocket of his jeans. The night was warm and pleasant; the sweet and heady scent of flowers drifting on the air around the large brick building.

The younger man shrugged, clearly intoxicated. “I wasn’t going to drink.” He protested, sitting up and watching as Yoongi lit his cigarette and exhaled. His eyes followed the silver plumage of smoke and hesitated. “Can I have one of those?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” Jungkook accepted this without question and got to his feet. “M’going to get some fruit juice.” He waved, taking the stone steps one at a time.

“Good idea.” Yoongi murmured as Jungkook entered the building, leaving the back door open a fraction behind him. He turned back and finished his smoke in silence, gazing up at the stairs ahead. There were hundreds visible in the navy sky now they were away from the light pollution of the city. The soft tinkling of laughter brought his attention back to the door behind him.

He could see through the pane of single-glazed glass that Jungkook was speaking to the strange woman who had taken one of his cigarettes. They were standing, side by side, in the narrow and otherwise deserted hallway at the back of the property, drinks in hand. Yoongi suspected Jungkook had forgone the fruit juice in favour of some more of the mango flavoured punch which had gotten Hoseok so giggly earlier in the garden.

Yoongi sighed as he stood up and walked a little through the garden, passing the fragrant and pretty flower beds as he followed no route in particular. He thought of Jeong-sun, away in Gwangju with her dad for the next week and, after that, when he she got back he would be playing the Tokyo Dome. He knew he should just invite her; pay the measly 144,000 won it would take to get her to Japan and have her stay with him in the hotel. Hell, they could even rent an apartment together. The others would never have to know. He could fake a sickness; not have to perform on stage and instead spend the week alone in solitude with her while they ordered takeout, not even having to leave their bed for more than ten minutes at a time.

He realised he had ended up back at the door where he started and glanced through the glass. The hallway beyond was empty; there was no sign of Jungkook and the short woman. With a knowing sigh and a surprisingly large amount of frustration, he reached for his phone and found the maknae’s number in his recent messages. He typed quickly with his thumb and pressed send: Don’t do anything stupid.

He was right in knowing he had never met the short woman before, but her familiarity suddenly became clear. It was something in her smug confidence and the way she held her hips when she walked. Jungkook had met someone like this before on the same day Yoongi had been paired with Jeong-sun in a closet during a game of seven minutes in heaven. This woman was shorter and did not have burgundy hair, but her intention was just as clear.

PART THREE

“Aren’t we going home?” Angel asked, finishing the cup of Strawberry Daiquiri Jimin had brought with them.

He shrugged, looking around the kitchen and seeing that the majority of the guests were still in attendance. “I want to stay for a bit.”

Angel sulked but remained silent as she put some distance between them, walking over the kitchen counter and pouring another cup of pre-mixed cocktail. Her face lit up when Donghyuk walked over from the doorway, looking her up and down slowly, visibly admiring her. They had been friends, and occasional fuck budies, for years and, unlike Jimin, he actually knew how to have a good time.

“You look really good in blue.” The man smirked, ignoring Jimin’s glances as his gaze fell to the deep crevice of her dress. “Is it cold in here?” He smirked.

She grinned widely, looking down at her aquamarine dress. “You can see my nipples, I know.”

“I’m not complaining...” Donghyuk looked briefly at Jimin, waiting to see if the younger man was going to do anything, before slipping in closer.

The loud crash of heavy glass hitting marble filled the room and Jimin, thankful to be getting away from Angel and Donghyuk, rushed over to the source. A young woman was crouching on the floor, trying to soak up the pink liquid she had knocked over, with a tea-towel. Jimin glanced at the cabinet, seeing it had been his half-full bottle of Daiquiri.

“Are you okay?” He asked, rushing to her side. She was petite and delicate looking, with a heart shaped face and big, expressive eyes.

She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy!” She fretted, her cheeks staining pink. She looked up at the overturned bottle which, thankfully, hadn’t broken. “Was it yours?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jimin said, standing up. “I’ll grab some towels. He returned a moment later clutching a wad of kitchen paper and started to blot at the sticky fluid, mopping the floor haphazardly. The girl continued to fuss over the accident, growing more and more flustered and upset with each passing moment.

“I’m really sorry!” She cried out, trying her hardest to clean her side of the mess with the now sodden towel.

“It’s honestly nothing, don’t worry.” Jimin put on his softest voice, feeling guilty that he had inadvertently made her feel this way. He took a quick glance over at Angel and Donghyuk and observed them both peering at him and the girl from across the room.

“I brought some wine if you want it. It’s in the fridge.” The girl said as way of repayment and Jimin shook his head; he had drunk enough that evening anyway. Cassandra came walking across the kitchen towards the pair.

“Ara, is everything alright?” She asked, bending down to help with the spill.

“I made such a mess!” The girl moped as the older woman methodically dried the last remnants of the alcohol, eventually standing up to discard the soaked towel in the washing machine. As Jimin watched Cassandra leave the room towards the pantry he saw Angel and Donghyuk trailing after her, holding hands. He wondered why he hadn’t bothered saying anything to them earlier, despite them blatantly flirting in front of him, and why he didn’t feel jealous now. He guessed he had known that things were over between him and Angel before they had even stepped foot out of the taxi that evening.

“Are you alright?" The girl asked, following his gaze towards the doorway.

Jimin turned back to her, meeting her big brown eyes. “Fine...” He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Jimin.”

Her expression lit up her entire face as she returned his smile, transforming her previously anguished features into something beautiful. “I’m Ara.” She held out her sticky hand and began to shake before she noticed. “Oh!” She exclaimed bashfully, flashing her teeth in a smile which looked, to Jimin, both a little goofy and adorable. “I’m sorry, I smell like strawberry daiquiri!”

Directly upstairs, the lady in the pyjamas led Jungkook by the hand into the master bedroom.

“Is this Donghyuk’s room?” Jungkook asked, peering around the dark space. The moonlight outside illuminated the laptop and speakers on the desk in the corner.

“Who?” The woman perched herself on the edge of the double bed, pulling open the draw in the bedside table.

“Supreme Boi.” Jungkook clarified to a shrug. “Oh, aren’t you friends?”

She shook her head absently, rummaging through the pairs of socks and wires in the draw with interest.

“Do you know Cassandra?”

“No.” The woman peered at him. “I live across the street.”

“Oh.” His drunken mind took a moment to figure this out. “How did you get in?”

She shrugged once more. “The front door was open.”

Jungkook laughed, suddenly finding this funny. He stepped over to the bed, leaning past the woman to close the draw. She stuck out her bottom lip and turned to look up at him. He hovered by her, still letting out a few amused giggles. She reached out and touched his waist softly.

“Do you work out?” She asked with a surprising amount of curiosity as she ran her hands along his stomach.

“Sometimes.” Jungkook smiled timidly.

“I can tell.” She smiled wisely, as though revealing a secret. She slowly pulled up the edge of his un-tucked shirt, revealing his bellybutton. It took him a moment to realise what she was doing before he quickly tugged it down, grinning with embarrassment.

“No!” She exclaimed dramatically, smiling. “Let me see!”

Jungkook thought for a moment, his better judgement battling wildly and struggling against the several cups of mango punch Donghyuk had concocted before the party. The woman gazed up at him beneath her eyelashes; her expression deliberately soft and harmless.

Jungkook smiled. “You promise not to touch?”

She nodded innocently, taking a quick, cheeky peek under his shirt in a slap-sticky way which made him chuckle, before sliding the shirt completely from his muscular body and dropping the fabric to the floor. He looked at her as she stood up beside him, a toothy, child-like grin on his lips. She couldn’t help but tweak his nipple a little.

“Don’t!” He squeaked, but his grin remained.

“You show me yours..I’ll show you mine.” She smiled, before placing her palm flat on his right pectoral with a dramatic sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with you! You’ve got a great body.” She exclaimed, talking in the educational tones of someone who knows best. Although he had not declared otherwise, her tone confused him, making her compliment stand out as something exceptionally kind.

“Do you think so?” He asked, wide eyed as the woman slowly eased him onto his back. “My girlfriend says I spend too much time at the gym.”

“Is she crazy?” She asked theatrically.

He shook his head, peering at the woman as she began to straddle him. “She’s perfect.”

The comment took her off guard and she suddenly found herself worrying. “Is she here?”

Jungkook shook his head. “She’s got to look after the desk.”

The woman relaxed. Jungkook wasn’t making much sense, but at least he seemed sure his girlfriend was not at the party. “What’s wrong with it?” She mocked.

“No, she’s an administrative assistant.” Jungkook spoke, pronouncing the words clearly, as though incredibly proud of her.

The woman shrugged as she settled against his crotch. “Sounds boring.” She reached towards the centre of his jeans and squeezed him gently through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low moan as she moved her palm back and forth. “Are your jeans tight?” She whispered.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, they’re okay.”

Continuing her motion and basking in the small, breathy sounds he made beneath her, the woman paused briefly to slip her breasts from her camisole, pulling them up one by one over the lacy trim of the fabric. Jungkook licked his lips unwittingly at the sight of her large raisin coloured nipples as they appeared above her baby blue top. She didn’t need to encourage him; his hands automatically moved to push them together, squeezing them in sexy, kneedy motions as his mouth lulled open absently.

“Do they feel good.” She asked, returning to his crotch, popping open the button which held them together.

“Yeah...” He moaned in a breathy voice. “They’re big...” He sounded completely entranced as he continued massaging her.

She smirked. “You can suck them if you want.”

He frowned; his expression momentarily uncomfortable, as though something incredibly painful had occurred to him. The thought seemed to dissipate and grow smaller in his eyes as his eyes moved along her naked breasts. “Are you sure?”

She nodded and shifted off his knee, moving backwards to cradle his neck as he moved on top, their roles reversing as he pushed her down into the covers. “Knock yourself out.” She said as his lips puckered around the hard bud of her right breast. He seemed to lose himself in the motion, moving from one breast to the other as he gently sucked her nipples. She wondered, after a few minutes, whether he would ever grow bored of the act and gently encouraged him away, growing a little restless. Instead of backing off completely, he pressed his head between her cleavage, using his palms to brush her breasts together as he kissed along the inside of her flesh, moving from the right to left, back and forth as he nuzzled her a little with his nose. As his eyelashes brushed against her softly, she slipped him out of his underwear and squeezed his length, holding him in her hand and working him up.

Eventually, he pulled away so suddenly the woman worried he had finally sobered up enough to come to his senses. Instead, he looked down at her body, running his dark eyes along from her breasts to her curvaceous legs.

“Are you wearing pyjamas?” He frowned.

Her lips curled up at the corners and she rolled over onto her back, reaching back to unhook her bra beneath her camisole. “They’re Victoria Secrets.”

Behind her, his expression darkened momentarily as they battled with a memory. She didn’t see and instead wasted no time in sliding her shorts and panties down her thighs, revealing her soft, round arse.

“Do you want to fuck?” She asked in a breathy voice.

Jungkook frowned. “It’s not our room.” He protested.

She shrugged. “We can be quick.”

Two hours later, the grandfather clock in the foyer struck 2am and Yoongi walked into one of the spacious living rooms, finding Hoseok nestled into a sofa fast asleep. He sighed, reaching down to nudge him gently.

“Hoseok!” The younger man stirred. “It’s time to go!” Yoongi said quietly, not wanting to wake the other guests who had also found themselves dozing.

Hoseok opened his eyes with a grimace. “Is it late?”

“2am.”

Hoseok groaned, curling back into himself. “Can’t I just stay here?”

“No. I’m driving back.” Yoongi started to walk away and Hoseok quickly got to his feet, grimacing at the pain in his head. On the porch outside, Yoongi checked his cell for any missed messages and found none. As he walked back to the Hyundai he had parked in the gravel drive, he found himself gazing along the windows on the second floor.

Luckily, Hoseok fell asleep as soon as Yoongi pushed the passenger door shut, meaning any questions about why they were waiting so long for the maknae could be avoided. The night had finally started to cool off and Yoongi turned on the heating, directing it at Hoseok who clutched his jacket to himself as he snored.

Eventually, a dark shadow crept out of the front door and sank down against the stone steps outside. Yoongi could see, even from this distance, the younger man rubbing his tired eyes. He had fallen asleep following his climax, rolling over onto his side and away from the woman who had taken him to bed. The sound of the door-handle rattling had jerked him awake and a pair of voices he thought might have belonged to Angel and Donghyuk drifted through the crack under the door as they searched for a spare room. He left the room minutes later, dressing quickly on the descent down the staircase. Now on the porch step, he clutched his shivering body against the chilly night air.

Yoongi sighed as he realised the maknae had not noticed him and honked the horn, making Hoseok jump. Jungkook’s head snapped up, squinting as the headlights were turned on. Slowly, he walked over to the car and got in the back, fastening his belt automatically.

Yoongi glanced at him through his rear mirror, noting the way he appeared to be sobering up by the second; the blurry, confused look leaving his eyes and being replaced by a dark sense of awareness and understanding.

“Did you get my text?” Yoongi asked in a low voice as he turned the key in the ignition. Beside him, Hoseok had already started to drift again.

He watched in the mirror as Jungkook removed his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Jungkook was silent as he pocketed the device and covered his face in his hands.

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

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