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yandere-wishes · 10 months

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ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her?

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that.

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom.

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing.

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe. They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it.

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile.

"What's the old man saying this time?"

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face.

When did you fall in love with him, again?

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless.

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him.

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money.

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be.

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders.

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right.

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero.

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy.

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference?

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now.

Even though you doubt Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders.

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain.

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask.

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek. Sliding from one universe to another.

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home.

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again.

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind.

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror.

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one.

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth.

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm.

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit.

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside.

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor.

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses.

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul.

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too.

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions.

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms.

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 2 months

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A Pirates Life For Me

Pairings: father Killian Jones x child/teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Killian Jones child

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, and Killian Jones being the best father ever, I guess there’s some spoilers for those who haven’t watched all seasons I guess, mention of when he died, NOT proofread yet

A/N back to writing ya’ll (hopefully), thought I’d start it of easy with some headcanons, so a few other will come out too but this is the first because recently I’ve been obsessing over Killian again along with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hunter (from tbb)

Side note half of this got deleted and couldn’t really remember what I wrote so it’s definitely not as good as the first draft

First things first you were raised on the Jolly Roger, you would most probably grow up as a pirate, and when old enough you’d help him fighting against the other pirates that would attack you at times

I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to deal with wearing dark colored clothes, he doesn’t do light color therefore neither do you at least until you’re old enough to decide for yourself what clothes you want

You’d beg Killian to buy you the biggest hat ever as you read somewhere that pirates has hats, he never bought you that hat… he did steal a tiny hat that fit you perfectly though…

He was scared to death that he would be like his own father, but don’t worry he’s both like that he’s the best and he’d never leave you like that

Your initials are written beside the wheel (you know where he wrote with his hook for Bae/Neal)

Things you carved into the ship as a kid can still be seen in the most random places

He childproofed the ship, put child locks on nearly every cabinet not knowing if it was child appropriate things in them as the crew would put their things in random places, he did not find the thought of you finding a knife, sword, or gun and accidentally hurt yourself very comforting

Adopted child, biological child, doesn’t matter he loves you the same.

Depending on when you were born you might of watched The Dark One rip the heart out of your father’s lover

One of many traumatic events

Killian values you more than anything else, if he had to choose between revenge or you, he’d always choose you, he’d do anything for you even if it meant him dying

He still knows how to say no to things though

He made a mental list in his head on things he would teach you

1. How to sail

2. How to navigate with stars

3. Sword fighting

4. How to survive on Neverland (just in case Pan decided to kidnap you or something to mess with him)

5. How to escape from Neverland

6. What plants are poisonous or not

7. Do not make deals with the dark one

And then the list goes on and on, he would want to teach you everything he knows about everything really, he just doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did, or to end up being a villain as he wants you to get your happy ending

Somewhere along the road you got dragged into wanting to help your father get revenge, nearly succeeded in multiple occasions, but as it turns out villains don’t really get their revenge

You once made the crew find a hook and clothes similar to Killian’s and later on that day you’d run up to Killian, hand clutching a hook and act as if you were the captain of the ship, imitating your father (with a really bad “adult” voice). He would let out a wide smile, eyes twinkling and a soft gaze as he looked down at you trying to reach the wheel. He’d eventually pick you up and let you steer the destination as he helped you turn the wheel the other way than he had set the course too. This was also the first time he taught you how to sail. Or somewhat, it wasn’t like you took much of the information in as you soon got bored and went to watch over the railing at the crashing waves.

Btw I’m tired of fics where Captain Hooks child likes Peter Pan, why because a parents ideals usually sets with the child, meaning you’d probably hate Peter Pan and Rumplestiltskin as much as your father does

He would tell you stories of his older brother and how he was a hero and he wished you’d met him, you would eventually in hell though later as you went to rescue your father so that’s fine, turns out he wasn’t the hero your father made him out to be, but that’s fine you only need one hero and that’s your dad

He would also tell you stories of his adventures, it made for quite the long entertaining tales as he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead before continuing his story which he altered to be a bit more child friendly and a bit more dramatic

He lets you have some of his clothes when he’s going away for a long time because he knows you’ll miss him

He lets you wear his jackets/coats, you freezing he’s already put his jacket/coat over you, even if they’re too big for you , he loves how adorable you look in it as he’s reminded that you’re still just a child and he doesn’t want you to grow up

He’d try to teach you how to paint, might succeed might not still he loves the bonding time he’s good at painting in any universe you can’t tell me otherwise

He hates seeing you hurt

If you get hurt on a raid he’d made sure whoever hurt you would suffer, you want him kiss the injury better, he’d do so in a heartbeat even if it meant his reputation would falter slightly

He starts dating someone else (Emma) he’d make sure that person treated you right, if not he’d dump said person

If he founds out you like someone he wouldn’t be overprotective, he’d still be protective but he’d mostly be supportive. He’d tease you about it until it became annoying, he’d encourage you and give you advice (even if most of his advice failed)and if it failed he’d be there to comfort you through it all

You’d blame Emma for turning Killian into a dark one and you’d blame Emma for Killian’s death

When you rescued Killian from hell he promised you he’d never die again if not of old age and that he’d never take of his good luck ring ever again as you thought he jinxed it by giving it to Emma

You were glad for his sake when he married Emma just because you saw your father happy with someone else again and not just grieving and seeking revenge for his ex lover

He hugs surprisingly great, he’s like your human sized pirate teddy bear

He misses the times when you would come into his room late at night after a nightmare and crawl under the covers and cuddle close to him, not because you had a nightmare but because he liked that you knew you would always be safe with him

He would hate that you’d have nightmares after his death and you no matter what age you are in would sometimes go into his room to make sure he was still alive and maybe even sleep beside him, he’d wake up to you sprawled out over the whole bed clutching his side tightly as if you were afraid he’d disappear

Will make sure you get your happy ending

He’s just father material it’s as simple as that (just look at Nook, love Nook though but original Hook is the best)

#Killian Jones #x reader #x you #x y/n #x child!reader #x teen!reader #killian jones x daughter!reader #killian jones x fem!reader #killian jones x teen!reader #killian jones x reader #Captain Hook #captain hook x reader #ouat x reader #Killian jones x gn!reader #Killian jones x child!reader #Killian jones x son!reader

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elmundodeflor · 4 months

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If there's anything Levi Ackerman's learnt, is that things never go as expected.

He was born in a place where every day he was put up to challenge. He had lost his mom and friends.

He found it ironic— some kind of tragedy one almost wants to laugh at. Each time he thought he could finally sit back, get comfortable, relax, life showed him how wrong he was for it.

"Farlan and Isabel, right?", Hanji's voice makes him startle. Their words turn to drawings in the air— figments of ice that spiral through the night. "Were they your siblings?"

Levi shrugs it off. It's been a year since that day, but the memories still make his chest hurt. Like a wound that has yet to get closed.

"None of your business.", he says. Hanji looks at him through the corner of their eye, then lets out a soft giggle. He never understood them; — how they could still be light-hearted in a world so heavy. He was harsh and closed-off. They could have gotten offended at him for his distance— shouted at him for being this cold. But they hadn't. They hadn't and, instead, they could only graze him bright smiles in turn.

"You know...", they speak. They're in the headquarters' rooftop, watching the snow. It's New Years Eve; the first one where they can see the yard turn this pristine shade of white. "My father used to tell me that, upon celebrations, our big, big family table didn't start where he sat, nor ended where I was sitting."

Levi raises a brow. He can see their hair, poking out of their hat, dusted off with snowflakes. The slightest tinge of pink that burns on the bridge of their nose.

Hanji continues.

"He said that the table kept going, and going, and going, until it wrapped around the world and appeared right behind him.", they say. "That everyone we knew was sitting there besides us. Grandpa, my mom... even Farlan and Isabel could be there, too!"

Levi scoffs. He can frame the picture in his mind, actually; vivid, and wild, and colorful. He didn't know Hanji's family, but he imagines them, as well; all with their same brown eyes and glasses. The table's filled with food; warm rice, roast-beef, potatoe soup. He can taste the sweet and spice on his tongue, smell the veil of smoke that comes from the kitchen. His mom sits next to him, graceful as she's always been. She wears a white shirt, a silver necklace ducked underneath.

He turns to her and smiles; a small tug at his lips that resembles hers. He's dying to tell her something, to ask her questions, to introduce her to Hanji.

"It's nice, I guess...", they say, once more. They're leaning on the railings, staring over at the skies. "Dad used to say that, in order to meet everyone again, we had to pretend that we were little kids. That it was important for us to believe in magic..."

Levi stays silent; his eyes closed when the wirlwind blows. He had always expected for miracles, back when Kuchel would return home late. He had always hoped for some force to make her warm again. To fill the tiny holes that'd crack his heart.

Now, little there's left of that child he once was. But he can play pretend, as Hanji's father would say. He can see, instead of just look.

Farlan and Isabel bicker over who'll take the spot next to him. There's a bouquet of flowers, front and center, surrounded by dry leafs and candles. He can hear Erwin's voice, as he pours up some wine for him. He can watch over at his squad, who he's proud of, all passing down the plates and drinks.

It's a sight he grows fond of. An image that's warm and makes him bubble up with joy. He feels less alone, now that he's allowed himself to believe. That he's let kid-Levi have this one wish turn true.

"Hey", Hanji elbows him, almost as if to wake him from his daydream.

He blinks at them, still dizzy, and his breaths swirl into white clouds. Now, they'll go downstairs to have dinner with everyone else, and there won't be roast beef or potatoe soup. The table won't have fresh flowers. There probably won't even be wine. Still, he thinks, Erwin will be there. And Mike. And Nanaba. And his squad, too.

They'll light candles, and there will be a trail of smoke coming from the kitchen. And so, when the clock hits twelve and everyone cheers, he swears, he'll believe in magic. He'll be a child all over. He'll see, and not just look.

He'll sit next to his mother, and ask her the questions he'd been dying to. He'll let Farlan and Isabel take turns on the chair besides him. He'll have champagne with Hanji's dad.

It's okay with him, really— that he'll only get to have this, a small portion of them, for the rest of his life. He's finally come to terms with one's own, human fatality. Erwin's the big brother he's never had, Hanji has that same grace of his mother's.

"Beep-boop", they wave a hand in front of him. "Earth calling Levi?"

He rolls his eyes at them.

"What is it now?"

They pout, then drag him by the sleeves of his parka.

"Have you even been listening? We have to get going!"

Levi stares at them, — at how their glasses have almost frosted. Petra tells Oluo that his cravat's ridiculous. Moblit's rushing over with the food. There's the clink of porcelain and the smell of bread. It all floats up to the roof, where they both have been, then fades off with the snow.

He's aware, this year there won't be dessert, or champagne, or his mother, either. But he has this, instead— these people he considers family. A big, big group of misfits that somehow fit together.

He feels less alone, now that he's allowed himself to believe, that love can take shape in such cruel world. This is what kid-Levi would have wanted, he tells himself. The warmth. The company.

"Let's go, then.", he says, and Hanji laughs at him, dragging him further down the stairs.

Truth is, spending New Years like this— being a Scout— comes as a complete surprise to him. That this isn't at all how he expected things to be.

Then again, he figures, however, he's alright with it. This, — Hanji, the family he's found, being a Scout, even—, is the one choice he won't ever regret.

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kinocomix · 2 months

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devlog 17: things my therapist told me

the script for TSTW is still coming along. the first couple of scenes are the most sensitive ones because they effectively have to hook the reader when little has happened in the story, so I can confidently say that those 8 scenes have been polished enough that I don’t have to worry about them anymore. Now, the main plot begins.

here’s the soundtrack for the rest of this devlog:

youtube

I don’t think there could ever be a fully professional way to talk about the things that heavily affected you as a kid. As an adult, I had to wrestle with the fact that there’s never really a good time to talk about feelings and be happy. There’s always someone in the world suffering more than you, someone dying and something terrible happening to the children of a country being genocided by zionism (free palestine).

Today I’m going to talk about the themes at play in “The criminal mastermind’s pocket diary”, the project I’m working on while writing the script for my other comic, which is coming along well. While a lot of what I’m going to talk about will pale in comparison to the suffering of others in the world, I find it valuable to remember that in order to fight the dragons that plague the world we must confront and quell the evil within each and every one of us.

With that in mind, one thing I haven’t mentioned about the central point of killouette is that in more than one way, her experience is very much my own. Growing up in Beyrouth it seemed like there was one of three options: you’re either born with money in which case your safety can be bought via being in safer areas and schools, or you’re in a middle/lower class area where you’re stuck with the other two choices. One is to pass the time on the street and acquire the culture thereof, the other is to be an indoor kid. My parents, who had good intentions, decided that the best course of action to not have me become a thug was to never let me leave the house except to go to school or family outings. Combine that with a poor financial situation and a tiny house, it meant that growing up I didn’t have the internet, and could rarely take up the space required to do activities. Doing something as simple as reading a book was complicated because most of our books were stored in the sofas which were designed to maximize what we could do in our tiny house. It doesn’t end there, you see my mother has always been a clean freak, so she valued tidiness over most other things. Now imagine all that for a second. An understimulated child, often told they’re “gifted” who could never explore the world or do many things inside either. you can see how that’s a recipe for someone with the personality of a blank sheet of printer paper.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I still had some fun because I, in addition to being cursed with the gifted label, had an overactive imagination. So the underside of beds became forts, and broken appliances became experiments. The few friends I had at school became a window into the outside… I eventually became a normal human being but there’s something about that entire period in my life that made me feel very bitter towards my parents. Why were you throwing your anxieties onto me? Why couldn’t I just join the scouts? Why couldn’t I stay over at a friend’s house for longer than two hours? Looking back at all of that having gone to therapy I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would have fallen madly in love with the craft of comics had it not been for me overcompensating for all those missed years. Part of me really wants to heal that inner kid in my head who still wishes for some adventure though. That’s killouette.

Killouette’s parents are much like mine. Not evil, just a little overprotective. Projecting just enough that it’ll seep into killouette’s behavior as an adult. But now, as a kid, I’m giving her something that I wished I had when I was a child: privacy and space. Killouette has her own room and her parents don’t feel the need to constantly police her as long as she’s in there. That might not seem like much, but I think that would be enough for a smart kid to do some pretty amazing things.

you may have also noticed that Killouette doesn’t have any noteworthy character flaws, and it should be obvious at this point that the goal of me making this is in part to empower her. With that being said I am fully aware that while my experience is relatively common, it’s far from universal. This is why the cast is so varied: each child represents to some extent a different way of growing up. I can’t do them all sadly, but I think the grounds will be covered pretty well with what we have.

there’s also other kids to consider, so I have some things I want to explore with them as well. I don’t want to spoil too much but here’s a quick fire round: Talbas has anger issues because of neglect and video games. bata has well meaning parents but the constant taunting and threats of being sent to far away places cause anxiety in the way she acts. motsik has the most ass, dogshit parents. 0/10 not having a good time. abuse central, destination anywhere else. falefil is spoiled and his parents haven’t taught him certain things about respect and money. that tends to influence his behavior. zmik is the closest to killouette, except he is a version of her closer to me allowed to leave the house. he’s included in the cast partially as a way for me to extent empathy to a younger me, but also for anyone who might be going through something similar to what i did as a kid. lastly there’s claude. claude is for all intents and purposes, if we were to put her in a realistic framework, some weird mish mash of immigrant and orphan child genius. i imagine claude would experience some alienation from some people, but i’m not worried about the story getting sidetracked since her friends have her back and the adults in the story are losers anyways.

On a more general note, I’ve been noticing how my approach to writing has been evolving to suit whatever project I'm currently working on. It was weird at first cause I thought a writing technique is something that you’re just stuck with. With prior comics for example the main concern was always “how do I portray what’s happening in the most raw way possible” whereas with TSTW it’s more “let’s try to be more efficient with the framing of the ideas, as long as it feels right”. With Killouette, it’s not about showing things in the most realistic way possible because if that was the case, for starters this amount of genius kids would not be two buildings apart in some suburb in beyrouth and killouette would not be able to hide the amount of things she does. but that’s not the point. a bunch of what happens in the story could happen with real kids in real life, and the point of the book is to capture a young sense of ambition and wonder. the type of mischief that leaves you laughing and being impressed instead of wondering what’s happening in the world. I’m not here to tell you about kids committing actual awful actions, I'm here to show you kids having a good time despite it all. that nothing can stop life and the desire for it.

If the kids of Palestine can still find it in them to laugh and have fun, the least I can do is have some imaginary abused kids triumph over their circumstances.

next week, we’ll be improvising some doodads and seeing how we can recycle previous unused work.

devlog updates on Tuesdays.

#comic #webcomic #kinocomix #devlog #journal comic #Youtube

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chuchotements-de-le-radiateur · 1 year

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DnD character concept: Artificer

So, despite my interest in DnD I have never had a chance to play it. This means jack shit to my fantasy, which immediately latched to the whole concept and started imagining characters, locations, etc.

So i just decided to go through the classes and come up with some interesting concepts for them. Let's go alphabetically and start with the Artificer.

"The clockwork heart"

Cracked glass and bent gears. Pocket watch dropped by a careless nobleman, stomped and forgotten, picked up and traded by a curious kid. Traded for what — you don't remember. The glass is removed, the shards are melted and cover is reformed anew. The gears are taken out one by one, by steady hands holding the tiniest of pincers. There is rhythm and order to things. You know that. You feel that. Hands keep moving, pick up the pieces and slot them into their place. A clank of metal, a tug of a spring, a turn of a screw. Then another. Three more and the hands rest. The ticking is rhythmical, steady, but something is amiss. Your eyes follow the hands with curiosity, watching what they will do next. After a brief pause the cover is removed again, the edge of a spring is bent just a tiny amount and everything is covered again. And pause. The ticking continues, but there is a note there now, one that you feel more than hear. All is right. Your hands rest. For now, the panic subsides. But soon the the chaos will become to much again, demanding to be ordered, to be fixed, and the hands will start moving again. You hope you will find something to fix by then. The ticking inside you used to be soothing, calming, reassuring, but lately you can barely sleep, as it grows louder and louder with each passing day, and subsides ever slower.

There was an explosion. Or so you've been told. You were an apprentice to a talented artificer, helping them make their ambitions a reality, push the limits of what is possible, weaving magic and technology together in ways you couldn't imagine. You weren't as well educated, as experienced, as driven, but you were talented and willing to put in the work. They inspired you, and though it was hard, you kept working. But days, weeks, even months prior to that day turned into a blur, with shattered fragments flashing in the dark. Fire. Pain. Sound. Hands. Their voice. You were found in the smoking ruins of their laboratory, alive but covered in bruises, cuts and burns. One wound was different — a big scar on your chest, almost healed, but one that was not there just a day ago. And the artificer was nowhere to be seen.

Days spent trying to remember what happened, you finally realized: whatever you did together, whoever made a mistake, you paid for it with your life. You remember dying. And then their hands, their voice, arguing with someone. You don't know what your master did to save you, but you are alive, and they are gone. And where you once heard heartbeat, you now hear ticking of gears and twisting of springs.

But as the days kept flowing, you understood that that's not all that changed. You see the world differently, understand it more clearly, sharper, ideas filling your head and your hands being more precise than ever. You build things you never thought you could. Except that you are getting less and less certain, if it is an ability, or a compulsion.

What you don't know, is that your master did not save you, or build the heart that keeps you alive. You were not a victim, You were a sacrifice. A price that your master paid for their communion and ascension with something beyond your comprehension. But whatever it was, it wanted you alive. It gave you this heart, it filled your head with ideas and kept your hands steady. And as you encounter more danger and make mistakes, as you fall in battle and come close to death again, even after your allies bring you back, even after you heal, you feel the ticking getting louder. And one day, as an dagger cut your hand deep as it could, as you were pushing the assassin away, you could swear that instead of the white bone, under the blood flowing from your hand you saw a dull shine of bronze and gold.

#artificer #dnd #dnd ocs #dnd character #dnd character concept #dnd backstory #dungeons and dragons #This reminds me of that wierd japanese horror? Tetsuo #the iron man #And a little bit of Hoffmann stories #like sandman etc #This backstory might be used for a warlock #but I like the idea of not adding classical warlock abilities #and instead expressing the horror and the power through the inventions #gadgets and gizmos #from beyond #Oh and just in case - feel free to use this in any way you want #as I am not likely to

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actualsunflower · 1 year

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complaining about changes and the immense stress they bring and also stupid societal standards

Long story short is I wanna cut my hair. My whole life I've been back and forth, very very long hair, then super short hair, back to really long, straight bald at one point... 3ish years I cut my hair when I started T (it had nothing to do with being a Real Boy or whatever I just wanted to) but now it's very long again. I really love my hair, I always have and it's always been the only thing I liked about myself. I also very heavily imparted this on Jay lol I've always cut and colored it myself too cause I dont trust anyone else

I look good with short hair, and I look good with long hair. But long hair is so hard and expensive to keep up with and it's hot and it's a pain to manage. It looks really good though because my hair is very fluffy, curly and thick. I also seriously freeeaakkkkkkkk when my hair touches my face or my neck wrong so it's pretty much always up in a bun or clipped up which is a downside or short hair cause I can't get it out of the way the same way. Can't have cute hair styles. But having cute hairstyles is also kinda a problem. Cause the people I live with are transphobic and they taught the toddler in the house to ask me very inappropriate questions and make stupid ass comments about 'girl hair' all the fucking time like so often I literally just go hungry, run out the front door as fast as possible, or don't go to the bathroom until they leave so no one can say/ask me anything. It's annoying as hell. But it has nothing to do with me wanting to cut my hair, idc about the stupid society standards of my hair equaling my gender. But I don't want THEM to see it as that. I don't want the stupid smug satisfaction. Because I KNOW they'll get the kid to start saying shit. My rm would probably deny that but I know they will, I'm not stupid if they didnt do shit like that the questions and comments wouldntve started in the first place. I want short hair cause it's easier and cheaper to take care of, because it's cute and I look good, plus the summer is coming up and my hair is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hot every single year But then. Theres the change. Oh my fucking GOD the CHANGE. I get so stressed and angry if my day even goes a tiny bit off schedule. THE TOLL??? OF LOOKING DIFFERENT?! Like I have schizophrenia and I very very frequently have hallucinations where I already don't look like myself imagine shaking that off and I REALLY DO LOOK DIFFERENT?! But like I said I've cut, dyed, shaved my hair a shit load of times through out my life! And every time it's been ok in the end. I get over it, it's no big deal in the end and grows back pretty fast, but taking that leap is very, very scary. And idk what to do. cause at this point it's all I think about, just cutting my hair and wanting to and I keep going into the bathroom with my scissors before I shower and brushing out my hair and looking at it but ultimately deciding not to. What am I supposed to do??? Schedule with my therapist and be like hey....... should I cut my hair? No I dont wanna talk about my stress or the austism or whatever I wanna talk about my hair lmao

Life would be so incredible if I could just go back and forth whenever without like, wigs cause then everyone would know of course cause irl you cant cut your hair long and back again. But god that would be incredible

#sunflower posts

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reidjumpers · 3 years

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Here Comes the Sun: Love Song

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning/Includes: None! Fluff, BAU team being wholesome, Spencer is happy

Series Summary: A journey of going through parenthood with Spencer.

Chapter Summary: Spencer never knew it was possible to be in love more than he already had with you, but he didn’t mind being proven wrong from time to time. The love that burst from his chest was like a garden of fireworks in July, warm and exciting and merry. It was impossible for him not to smile every time his eyes landed on his sleeping daughter in his arms, her tiny mouth yawning every now and then.

Note: in the spirit of father’s day, I present you a very delightful and soft fic about Spencer and BAU team meeting his daughter for the first time. I also would like present an idea: dilf!Spencer Reid. Discuss.

previous chapter, series masterlist.

Spencer plopped into the couch with a quiet sigh. Sleep deprivation slowly caught up with his body as soon as he landed on the soft cushion, eyes drooped and struggled to stay open, but the weight on his arms kept rocking him awake. He blinked his eyes to clear his vision, smiling widely at the bundle of joy in his arms.

The sun and the world outside had been long awake, but Spencer marveled at the stillness and quietness of the hospital room as he held his newborn daughter close. She had come earlier than her due date the doctor carefully predicted, seemingly eager to meet her parents and love to give them a series of surprises. You had swatted him awake in the middle of the night with the urgency of a dying person in your arms, panicked when your water broke when the sky was still dark outside.

After long hours of sweat and pain, your whines and cries filled the walls and Spencer was rendered helpless as he held your hand, your daughter came into the world right when the sun rose into the horizon, her wail was strong and loud as she announced her presence into the world. He didn’t know that the sound of a wail could be so relieving and beautiful, goop and any other bodily fluids was not a concern as he finally held her for the first time, squirming and screaming.

He hadn’t put her down since except when she was being cleaned and you fed her. Spencer never knew it was possible to be in love more than he already had with you, but he didn’t mind being proven wrong from time to time. The love that bursting from his chest was like a garden of fireworks in July, warm and exciting and merry. It was impossible for him not to smile every time his eyes landed on his sleeping daughter in his arms, her tiny mouth yawning every now and then. Her nose really resembles yours, he thought, and he couldn’t be happier.

Spencer made a mental note to call your parents and send a letter to his mom. Taking tons of pictures too for them to see.

But for now, he just wanted to sit down and relish the moment. You were sleeping soundly on the bed, exhausted from the long hours of labor and nine months of growing an absolutely beautiful human being. Spencer made sure to be quiet and careful with his movements to not wake you up, determined to let you get a peaceful sleep after antagonizing days of lack of sleep.

He never knew it was possible for him to reach this point in life. To think about it, he never knew it was a possibility or even an option for him before you walked into his life unprompted. Spencer always liked to think about it as a gift straight up from Gods above, not that he ever told you that out loud.

A quiet and gentle knock on the door bursted out his bubble. Spencer blinked as he quietly shuffled towards the door with his daughter still in his arms, reluctant to let her go in fear she would crumble into dust and everything was a mere figment of his imagination. He didn’t make it halfway through the room before the door was gently swung open, a familiar face peeked through the gap with a soft smile.

“Hey, boy wonder. Heard that the newest member of The Reids was born this morning,” Garcia greeted him with a soft smile. She wore a blue outer with a white dress underneath that reminded Spencer of Cinderella’s fairy godmother. The thought made him grin. “Oh my God, is that her?”

“Hey, Garcia,” Spencer made sure his voice was quiet, careful not to stir his daughter and you from slumber. “Come here, meet Aika.”

Garcia shuffled towards him and Aika in his arms, her heels clicking against the floor. Spencer noticed the team quietly let themselves into the room, quiet and no words exchanged as their eyes landed on your sleeping form. Even then, you were still stirred awake from sensing another presence other than him and your newborn baby, smiling when you caught the sight of the whole team in your room. And Aika must have sensed another presence in the room she was not familiar with and started to wail.

Spencer cooed, “Shhh. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just your aunts and your uncles.” Softest of voices reserved for her, rocking her back and forth in vain attempt to ease her fear of unfamiliar presences. Everyone cooed and awed at the sound of her wailing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of his heart cracking in his chest at the sight of her crying.

Your hands immediately reached for Aika, an exhausted yet happy smile on your face as Spencer gently placed her on your chest. Her wails immediately quieted down and turned into soft whimpers and sobs, melted right away at the first contact of your skin as if it soothed her from any worries the world might offer. Spencer’s heart was aching from the sight alone, happiness blossoming inside his chest like flowers in the spring and he swore he would turn the world upside down if it meant his daughter and you were happy and safe.

Morgan pulled a chair next to your bed, “Hey, mama. How do you feel?”

You scrunch your nose. “Sore, but happy,” you sighed happily as Aika curled up on your chest, nodding off. “She’s really fond of giving her parents surprises.”

“Figure as much,” Emily nudged your shoulder gently, a wide smile on her face. Spencer noticed that a presence of a child near the team tends to fish out their best smiles, soft and happy and warm. It wasn’t the first time they were near children, but it was only now he took notice. “Given that her parents love to give us surprises too.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Would you like to hold her?”

Emily nodded, excited with the prospect of holding your newborn but also scared at the thought of holding one. Spencer stood right next to her immediately, reminding himself that he didn’t need to freak out at the sight of his baby in another person’s arm beside him and you.

“Careful, watch her head,” Spencer grimaced.

“Be gentle, Prentiss,” Morgan joked, standing up to see Aika closer in Emily’s arm. Emily’s face was a flashing mixture of awe and concern.

“Hush, I know, I know,” Emily shot him a mock glare, lips twitching into a smile. Aika blinked her eyes towards Emily briefly before she fell back into her peaceful slumber again, as if she didn’t just cry her hearts out minutes before. “Hi, Aika. Auntie Em here.”

“She’s beautiful,” JJ breathed. Her knuckles gently caressed Aika’s cheek and cooed at the sight of her leaning into her touch. She turned around slightly to address you, “She has your nose.”

Spencer grinned and nodded in approval, glad that someone beside him noticed the little quirks and beautiful resemblance between you and Aika. Everyone made a round to greet Aika that was sleeping soundly in Emily’s arm, loving and adoring with their soft voices. It was such a thrilling and relieving fact that Aika was born with so many people who love her already.

“A baby girl for the first time after three boys,” Rossi mused after he greeted Aika, “I have the feeling she will be spoiled rotten by every one of you here.”

You and Spencer shared a look while Garcia snorted, “Please, I spoil everyone equally.”

Laughter rang through the wall, warm like summer breeze and familiar like an old sweater. Hotch announced that he will head down to the cafeteria to grab something to bite, and everyone followed him with the exception of Emily. Rossi announced about paying for everyone’s food — that includes yours and Spencer’s — and a loud cheer was out and faded as they took a sharp left turn towards the hallway.

Morgan was halfway out the door when you called him, “Morgan, can you stay here for a little while?”

“Yeah?” he turned around slowly, walking back in with eyebrows furrowed together. “What’s up?”

Spencer glanced at you and you nodded at him. There had been a lot of conversations between you and him regarding this decision. An honor that both you and him would love to give. “So, we’ve been talking a lot,” Spencer glanced at you. “We both agree and would love to have you and Emily as Aika’s godparents.”

“You kidding…” Emily trailed, surprise painted clearly in her face. Spencer scooted next to her immediately, hands hovering right below Aika in fear she might have dropped her out of surprise. “I— wow. Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. What do you say?”

“I’ll be honored,” Morgan replied almost immediately. His voice was soft and gentle, a little bit strained too, Spencer thought that he might cry and burst into tears any time. “Thank you.”

“Wow. Aika, did you hear that? I’m your godmother,” Emily whispered, delight laced thickly in her voice. “We’ll team up together to prank your parents once you’re old enough.”

“Please don’t install any evil streak on my daughter!” you slapped Emily’s side gently and laughed. “If anything happens to either me or Spencer, it’s your duty to make sure that Aika is loved and her voice is out to be heard by the world.”

“And as her godfather, my first order of business is to make sure that her parents are safe and sound to watch her grow up.”

Spencer smiled, even Aika made some quiet baby noises as if she was agreeing with her godfather. Morgan made a smug comment about how he was right and Aika is agreeing with him. Relief washed Spencer like a wave crashing the shore, calm yet strong enough to knock him. Aika was born into a world filled with people who loved and will love her, and with love she shall live.

=======

series tag list:

@measure-in-pain @wooya1224 @reidemandweep @manuosorioh @jswessie187 @starrfruit @averyhotchner @sebby-staan

additional note: if you’d like to be added into the tag list, please send me some ask or message me so it’s easier for me to tag you in the next update!

#spencer reid #dad!spencer #dad!spencer reid #dad!spence #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #cm fic #fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #bau team #bau x reader

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teeterarting · 3 years

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here's a list of things i love about PSMD for no reason other than i think it deserves appreciation (spoilers)

the hero gets adopted by a nuzleaf. Hero, a young child that doesn't know why they were brought into this world, attacked by beheeyem, scared and alone, finds someone that takes them under his wing and gives them a home. it's really sweet that once Nuzleaf brings them to the Village, Hero's not alone anymore.

yes it was all a trick, he deceived you. but being betrayed by your father figure hits so much harder. it's much more personal, especially when both Hero and Partner are kids. and when Nuzleaf goes through all that ordeal in the post game, then gets accepted back into the village?? And his little speech to Hero????? it's heartbreaking and incredibly touching at the same time

everything is just so cute!!!! you go to school with your new friendo and you're friends with the schoolkids, and you make the trip to school every morning taking in the scenery, the smell of dew and fresh grass, and the sun on your face... and you take classes about Mystery Dungeon mechanics, and principal Simipour is a big BRO, the school nurse Audino is super kind and helpful... and you get to play with your pokemon friendos in summer vacation, and explore a dungeon with 'em... AND your bond with your Partner begins to form, getting stronger and stronger from then on. PSMD's beginning arc is so warm and pleasant, it's like reliving childhood memories all over again, when things were happier and you didn't have to worry about how cruel the world is. this story section's one purpose is to get the player used to the game's mechanics, as well as foreshadowing. unfortunately most of the school kids get forgotten later on, but I still love this part for everything it is, even if unintentional.

it's not just the beginning that's cute. PSMD'S ENTIRE WORLD IS ADORABLE. It's just filled with life every town you go. there are a bunch of pokemon locals and they all have interesting things to say, in the main story and the post-game. there's a point where their comments get repetitive, but that's bound to happen in any PMD game. Even then, the days are never the same. one morning you wake up and the Lively Town locals are exercising, then the next they're having singing lessons, and then they're practicing martial arts. and you get to connect with (or recruit) some of them just by.... chatting!!! Sitting next to that big ol' venusaur and sharing stories, laughing and having fun. it's good stuff.

Sometimes you find travelling pokemon in dungeons and it's jsut the coolest thing. Imagine you're exploring a dungeon, then your Connection Orb notifies you there's a fellow explorer in the floor. First thing you do is try to find them, and when you do - oh dang a travelling Archeops!!!! And then they just,,,, exchange their experiences and thoughts on exploration and how hard it is to fend off those enemies and the cool treasure they found the other day (the game calls it "[Team Name] and [Traveller pokemon] compared notes"). then the traveller heals you, fills your belly and restores your PP. and they go on their way. idk man it's such a cute interaction. explorers chatting, empathizing and helping each other, bc their job is not an easy one...

PSMD Partner is the most developed Partner in any PMD game yet. They start off as this naive, hyperactive kiddo, then stuff happens, and worse stuff happens, and you get to see how they grow and change and by the end they're a different person than they were before (in more than one way ...). It's just so nice to be by their side, from the beginning to the bitter end, and watch their growth. in contrast, Hero is a little unbalanced in that their backstory is not explored as much, and their personality is kind of a blank - probs meant to be vague so the player can be in their shoes. to me this just gives you the opportunity to shape their character however you want, so you can have tons of different hero/pardner dynamics.

The music is rlly flippin' good. Some of the tracks are recycled from previous entries, but when they go original??? it's a blast!!! "Echoes of the Mystical Forest" is one of my favorites in all four entries, it has no right being so amazing for a random dungeon. "Time to Set Out" makes me cry immediately (also i think it would be a better fit for the parting ways scene at the end...). Don't even get me started on "Second Dark Matter Battle", it has everything an epic climax needs and MORE. the Partner remix????? absolute genius

speaking of which, Dark Matter ITSELF,, is freaking amazing. Its actions were foreshadowed in the very beginning, though they were not blatant through the game. i do think they could have done a better job at showing the pokemon's negativity raising in the world, as well as negative feelings in the characters... but it's not like Gates did a good job at it, either (outside of cutscenes, all the locals in Post Town are incredibly nice to you and fights didn't "break out often". it's like the game tells you the world is a dark place, but what it shows in gameplay doesn't add up). so i'll cut them some slack. Still, I find Dark Matter a more compelling villain than the Bittercold for several reasons. it is sentient. its speech is a jumbled amount of voices all talking at the same time - the anguished voices of the world. It actually concocted a plan to hurl the planet into the Sun, using pawns like Nuzleaf and Yveltal to do its dirty job. in the Voidlands, Hero and Partner discover its past, and how it'll come back after defeat, like a cycle. when Partner accepts Dark Matter, they accept negative feelings as something everyone has within themselves. Most of all, the fact that Dark Matter is a manifestation of negative feelings doesn't make it just a generic threat, a final obstacle to be defeated so the world can be saved. It makes Dark Matter - negativity itself - a natural part of the world, the yin to its yang. and that's why I LOVE IT SO MUCH DANG IT EVEN THANKS PARTNER FOR THEIR ACCEPTANCE

The fact that Dark Matter can possess pokemon that have "even the smallest amount of darkness in their hearts". it makes me think of Mr. Nuzleaf and what he might have gone through in the past to make him so easy to be controlled. Did he hold a grudge against someone?? Did he commit a crime?? Had Nuzleaf always been malicious???? And if so, is this why he shows so much remorse in the post-game??????? because he had always been this vile fiend and then he met this small kid and got attached, but still carried on with his evil actions because his malice was still stronger than the positive feelings and Dark Matter's hold on him intensified?????? I don't know!!!! and as much as i wish the game could have given us that sweet mr. Nuzleaf backstory, it's pretty fun to have freedom to come up with your own version.

Everything about Super's climax is just phenomenal. Every single flippin' legendary is there to help you. Arceus is in the game. MEWTWO IS THERE. and when things are looking hopeless, they really seem hopeless. First the Tree of Life is dying, then your allies get turned into stone and sent to hell The Voidlands, Arceus gets turned into stone, the entire world is stone (except for several mon' that are still safe and holding onto hope, but they're so few). Your Harmony Scarves stop working and you and your Partner are back to your feeble, basic stage forms. You are bordering exhaustion, you have no Emeras, it's just you and your Partner against an eldritch abomination that's killing the life on the entire planet like a parasite, devouring all hope. but you still fight back. Given how adults in the game always discourage the village children from going adventuring, that they cannot do this or that because they're so little and fragile, it's awesome how Hero and Partner beat Dark Matter as tiny kids.

PSMD is not a flawless game. in fact there's plenty of things that hold it back and i even mentioned some... but it's still full of love put into it and it resonates w me more than PMD Explorers of T/D/S and Gates to Infinity (Rescue Team is a close second). its my all-time favorite PMD game.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #psmd #pokemon super mystery dungeon #Teeter rambles #long post

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sunnyville36 · 3 years

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Put it on me

Requested from anon

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

Themes/warnings: idol!verse Felix, light angst/argument, make-up sex, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe out there folks!), slightly rough sex

Word count: 1.6k

As always, happy to hear your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

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You’re staring at the half eaten meal on your plate when you hear the door open.

You and Felix have barely had 2 seconds to spend with each other the past few weeks with Stray Kids working on their upcoming comeback, so you thought you would surprise him by making your signature chicken carbonara that he’s been dying to try. You had texted him earlier to tell him your plans and he had sounded super excited. He mentioned dance practice might run long, but told you he would come straight over to your place when it ended to spend some time with you. So you put his portion in the oven to keep it warm and waited for a text saying he was on his way, but it had been over 3 hours since their practice should have ended and you hadn’t heard anything from him.

Your boyfriend comes around the corner into the kitchen, and you can immediately tell he’s not in a good mood, but you hope some food might lift his spirits.

“Hey Lixie,” you say, standing up and crossing the short space to give him a quick hug.

He wraps his arms loosely around you, trying to keep his sweat-stained tank top from ruining your shirt. “Hi Y/n.”

“How was practice?”

“Fucking exhausting,” he sighs, plopping down in a seat at the table and letting his head fall into his hands.

“I can only imagine,” you respond, making your way over to the oven. “Maybe something to eat will make you feel better?”

“Oh, I-I’m not hungry, baby.”

You turn back to him, see his head is still in his hands. He’s trying too hard not to interact with you, and you feel like something’s up.

“After that insanely long practice? You must be.”

“I uh… I ate with the boys.”

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, but try not to jump to conclusions. “Lix, dinner must have been hours ago by now; come on you should eat something, I kept your pasta in the oven - “

“I just came from eating,” he interrupts, looking anywhere but the spot where you’re standing with one hand on the oven door.

“You what?” you ask, voice quiet.

“After practice ended, we all went up the street to that 24-hour ramen place.”

His head is bowed, eyes looking at his lap, and you can tell he’s feeling guilty. And you know it’s petty, and you should really just brush it off and move on, but you find yourself feeling more hurt than you thought you would.

“But I… we said we were going to spend some time together tonight, and I made this special just for you…” you trail off, trying hard to stem the tiny drops of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“I know but - look, the members were at each other’s throats all night and it was such a tough session and I didn’t wanna just bail on them when Chan suggested we all grab food to sort it out - “

“So you decided to bail on me instead?” you scoff, anger rising in your chest.

“No, it wasn’t like that, I’m still here aren’t I?”

“You could have at least texted me about the change of plans. I’ve been waiting here for hours thinking you’d walk in the door any minute when you might not have even shown up at all!”

“Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around how you spend your time sitting around!” he snaps back, throwing up his hands in an annoyed shrug.

“Right. Because all I do with my time is sit around pining after you. You know, this was one of the only free times for me too, and now it’s wasted.”

The air is tense between the two of you. You’re rapidly moving towards a full blown fight, and this is far from how you wanted your evening to go.

“So I’ll just go then, if your precious plans are ruined,” Felix mumbles, standing to grab his jacket from the hook by the door.

In all honesty, it’d be better if you let him leave, give the both of you time to cool down. But you’re too upset to think rationally, and all you can see is him not even caring enough to stay despite your disagreement.

“So you’d rather walk away than talk about this?”

He turns back, fists balling at his sides. “We’re not talking, you’re just yelling at me, and I didn’t even do anything!”

“It’s not what you do; it’s what you don’t do. You never even want to spend time with me anymore! I feel like you only want me around when it’s convenient for you!” you shout, voice wavering.

Something shifts in his eyes then, as he stares at you from across the room. He looks hurt, offended almost, more angry about what you just said than at any previous point in your argument.

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” you press, enthralled by his aura, his usual lighthearted demeanor being replaced with one oozing with dominance. With desire.

“Of course I want to be with you. Always,” he says, voice low. Assertive. Sexy.

“Then prove it.”

He’s on you in a matter of seconds, hands grabbing your face and lips crashing against yours. Your own hands find themselves on either side of his slim waist, still sticky from sweat and exertion. He pushes you up against the counter, melding your bodies impossibly closer as his tongue slips into your mouth. The kiss is messy, filthy, nothing like the two of you normally do during your lazy makeout sessions. His leg is slotted between both of yours, and the tensing of his thigh against your core as he moves to lean over you makes you heady with want.

Suddenly, you’re turned around in his hold, your back flush to his front, hiding nothing from you as you feel the hardness in his pants growing against your ass. He’s frenzied, his normally delicate touches replaced with rough grabs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping below the hem of your skirt to run along the damp folds of your panties. He brings his lips to your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want me to show you what I never get tired of tasting?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, letting him half-drag, half-carry you over to the living room and ease you onto the couch, the first gentle touch from him since this whole thing began. That turns out to be short lived, as the next thing you know he’s on his knees in front of you, flinging your legs apart and waiting for your almost imperceptible nod before moving your panties to the side and bringing his mouth to you.

He devours your pussy, licking up and down your center and sucking on your clit. You moan his name, and you can feel him smile against you as he focuses his tongue on teasing your clit with little kitten licks while ramming two of his fingers inside you. Normally it takes you begging to get him to be this rough with you, but something about your fight must have got him really riled up, and you weren’t about to complain.

After bringing you to the brink of your high a few times but never quite enough to send you over, he lifts his head from between your legs, mouth dripping with your essence, and moves behind you on the couch, gently positioning you on your hands and knees. He leans his whole body over yours, again whispering his question in your ear.

“Can I fuck you like this?”

You rarely do it from behind, but every time you have you’ve loved it, so you nod your head eagerly, letting out a breathy “yes.”

He’s ready as soon as you say so, pushing into you with such force you jolt forward slightly, your laughter-tinged gasp giving him a sign of just how much you enjoy it.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, kitten?” he purrs, lifting you up off your arms so your torso rests on his chest.

“Yes… fuck... Felix, please more.”

He draws out then pushes back in, picking up the pace each time. Soon he’s pounding into you, his left arm supporting your hip and his right arm wrapped loosely around your neck as you lean against him. The way his cock is angled is causing him to hit you perfectly each time, and you’re moaning his name again as you feel his quick hot breaths next to your ear.

“You promise to never doubt how much I want you?” he growls out, voice strained from the effort not to release just yet.

“Yes, yes, Felix I promise, please let me cum, please.”

“Let go for me baby.”

You reach your peak at the same time, his groan in sync with your high pitched scream.

When you’re both aware enough to speak again, Felix pulls you down to sit between his legs, leaning you against his chest.

“You were right,” he starts, voice sincere, “about - about earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was all that time and I’m sorry for leaving you alone when I promised we’d spend the evening together.”

You look up at him, wanting to apologize as well. “I’m sorry about what I said. I know you’re not intentionally neglecting me. I’ve just been upset recently that we don’t have a lot of time together anymore. But I should have told you that earlier; I shouldn’t have brought that up in an argument.”

“So we’re even then?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You give him a playful punch to the chest, smiling. “Yeah, we’re even.”

“Then I think it’s time for round two.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz imagines #skz smut #lee felix #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fic #lee felix x reader #lee felix imagines #lee felix angst #lee felix smut #felix x reader

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

atlas heart || part 37

a/n : uhm,,, so this was 20 pages long,,,, whoops -- hope you enjoy the pain!

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“Jimin… psst-- Jimin, wake up--”

“Wake up, motherfucker!” Jimin’s eyes fly open right before he’s shutting them again, unable to cover his face in time to block the throw pillow that’s being launched at him. It falls to his lap when he sits up, and Jungkook chuckles in the doorway.

“Y/n’s been in here for fifteen minutes, trying to be nice and soft about waking you up, but you sleep like the dead. We’re gonna miss our ride at this rate.” Jimin blinks the sleep from his eyes as he focuses in on the girl that’s kneeling next to him on the bed. She’s nodding along as Jungkook speaks, and even in his half-awake state, Jimin finds her insufferably cute. He also notices that she’s fully dressed and seemingly ready to leave, her backpack by the door.

“What time is it?” His voice is groggy, but the yell he lets out when Hoseok appears suddenly at the door, disheveled and angry, is crystal clear. It looks like the Slytherin’s also just woken up, which is bad news for someone who’s yet to see Hoseok’s infamous ‘morning temper’.

“It’s almost 4:30 in the fucking morning, that’s what time it is. Our ride gets here at 5 -- I’m leaving whether you’re ready or not.” He disappears then, dragging a fearful Jungkook with him back to their room to pack their bags. Y/n turns from the doorway, settling back on her heels as she chuckles awkwardly.

“He’s just really excited to see Yoongi…”

When a minivan fit for a soccer mom with 4 kids screeches to a halt in front of the house, Jimin has to rub at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. At the wheel sits Jin, an alarming amount of excitement in his eyes as he chugs coffee from what’s less of a cup and more of a vase with a lid. In the passenger’s seat is Namjoon, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life, and behind him are Taehyung and Yoongi, the Slytherin scooting into the middle so Jungkook can pull the end seat down and squeeze into the back row.

He waves Y/n in, and she pulls a stunned Jimin into the back with them. When the end seat locks back into place, Hoseok is throwing himself into it, wrapping himself around Yoongi once the door is closed. His boyfriend smiles with contentment, and even half-asleep, Jimin can appreciate the quiet happiness they share.

Jin slams his concerningly large coffee cup, now empty, down into the middle console and lets out a roar of energy.

“Next stop, Quidditch World Cup!” Pressing down on the gas hard enough that Y/n actually feels the tires squeal against the pavement before starting to turn, Jin takes off, rounding the rest of the massive courtyard before flying back down the winding driveway. Her hand reaches for Jimin’s on instinct, and if she wasn’t squeezing so hard, he might have blushed.

“What’re the chances of us dying before we even get there?” Jimin chuckles at her question, cutting himself short when the car slides into traffic much too recklessly, so he just hums.

“Probably much higher than you want me to admit--”

“Hey, who has my road snacks? I’ve got such a hankering for one of those cinnamon roll thingies--” Jin reaches blindly back into the middle row, searching for the bag of food on Taehyung’s lap.

“Both hands on the wheel!” It seems the entire car’s in agreement, because Jin just returns to his previous position, a small whine leaving him.

“Alright, alright, you big babies. Namjoon -- feed me, buddy.” The Ravenclaw groans loudly, and for a moment Jimin can’t believe he’d missed all these idiots while he was away.

When Jin pulls into the campground for the World Cup, they’re all gasping as they take in the scene around them. The arena’s unbelievably massive, towering over them in the distance. The sea of people is endless, crowded beyond belief with spectators and traveling merchants preparing for tomorrow’s match. Following Yoongi’s directions until they manage to find the plot of land his parents had reserved for them, Jin pulls off into the treeline and puts the car in park.

The group stumbles from the vehicle, groaning and stretching, shaking off the anxiety of entrusting Jin with their lives for hours. It’s a little past 11am, enough time for them to set up before lunch. Y/n follows Jimin into the spacious area, admiring the excited chaos of the enormous campground around them. She can hear Jin mumbling a spell under his breath to shrink the car and put it in his pocket, followed almost immediately by Jungkook excitedly asking if he can 'do that with a house -- or Hogwarts!'

Jimin takes her hand, and for a second, she thinks that maybe he’s making a move on her, something that leaves her embarrassingly hopeful. But all he does is pull her close to him, pointing at Yoongi with his other hand. The Slytherin is pulling a tiny tent out of his own pocket and setting it on the ground in the middle of their plot of land. Y/n doesn’t even see Yoongi utter a spell before the tent is growing to full size, and she can only imagine that the inside has been bewitched to fit all 8 of them -- something else that Yoongi’s done without speaking.

“Nonverbal magic?” It slips out without her thinking, and Yoongi hears it, glancing at her and becoming visibly shy under her curious gaze. He nods, pointing back at Hoseok, whose attention is caught trying to convince Jungkook not to try shrinking himself with Jin’s spell.

“We both know it -- most Slytherins do, actually… should I call it a defense mechanism? We don’t like to let people know what we’re thinking.”

“It’s pretty fascinating, if you think about it.” It comes from Namjoon, where he and Tae are unpacking not too far away. “Even in class, Yoongi would always practice nonverbally -- he’d get in trouble for it, too.” The Slytherin shrugs as if performing nonverbal magic isn’t difficult for most people unless the caster is under incredible distress.

“What can I say? A habit’s a habit. I haven’t used verbal magic in years -- it’s just more comfortable this way.” He ducks into the tent then, poking his head out and waving them in once he’s checked the quality of his adjustments to their living space for the next couple days.

They all head inside, Y/n looking around in awe when she sees just how big it is. There’s a section of bunk beds on the far side of the room, and the rest is filled with endlessly cozy spaces -- couches and cushions, corners piled high with blankets and pillows. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner, which Jin makes a beeline for in order to 'preserve his perishables'. Jimin shakes his head at the scene, always amused by the depth of the Hufflepuff’s stomach.

Jungkook pulls Y/n to one of the couches, where they collapse on it in a sibling pile that Jimin’s gotten used to seeing over the last 24 hours. It doesn’t stop the rest of the group (sans Hoseok, of course) from gawking at the pair, everyone unused to seeing the dynamic that’s been essentially nonexistent at Hogwarts. They don’t even notice, Y/n looking up at Jungkook with emotional eyes.

“I can’t believe I have friends to share this with.” She doesn’t realize the group is listening, and they all feel simultaneously touched and saddened by her words. Jungkook only ruffles her hair fondly.

“Get used to it, kid -- things are looking up for us.” It’s then that Jungkook happens to glance up, catching Taehyung’s gaze and seeing glossy tears in the boy’s eyes. Looking around, he notes that everyone’s got a similar expression, and he wonders what they must think of Y/n -- of the girl they don’t know enough about to understand her sentiments. He also wonders why they seem so moved by her words.

The awkward moment’s cut short by Namjoon clearing his throat. He points toward Jin, who’s standing by the fridge.

“We have enough food in there to feed us for a week, but Jin said it’s all ‘snacks’, so it looks like we have to go buy lunch.” Everyone nods, accepting that Jin would probably bite them before letting them into the kitchenette, and they start heading back out into the campground.

By the time night’s fallen, they’re all exhausted and a bit giddy. It’s almost 10, the effects of waking up at 4am weighing down on the group as they sit together in front of their tent. Hoseok and Yoongi had set up a small fire for them to gather around, Jimin playing music quietly from the small speaker Tae had packed as they talk amongst themselves.

Namjoon leans against a decently sized pile of rocks, reading quietly with the light from the fire. Y/n suspects he’s not actually reading, having caught his smile every time someone had cracked a lame joke, but she doesn’t call him on it. He looks peaceful there, in his quiet corner. Yoongi and Hoseok sit together on one side of the fire, whispering to each other and smiling about things only they know. Jungkook, Tae, and Jin are huddled, having a small argument about some of the merchandise being sold by the traveling shops that are set up around the campground.

Y/n sits with Jimin, watching the group and jokingly judging Jimin’s music taste as he scrolls through his phone. They’re sitting awfully close together, and Jimin thinks in the back of his mind that they must look about as cozy as Yoongi and Hoseok do -- that thought brings him much more joy than it should.

Despite the endless chatter and liveliness of the campground, the night starts to wind down, the sky clouding over in a way that makes it seem darker than it already is. It’s a perfectly good time for everyone to head to bed, but the chaotic trio has apparently decided to escalate their quarrel, the three of them jumping up at the same time.

“We’re going to check out some stuff -- it’s important!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the group right before disappearing into the crowd with Jin and Tae. Namjoon promptly shuts his book, standing with a groan and heading in the direction they’d just gone. He offers them a shrug as an explanation.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on them.” He’s gone soon, leaving Jimin and Y/n to make awkward eye contact with Hoseok and Yoongi. Y/n locks eyes with Hoseok, and Jimin gets the strange feeling, from the way Hoseok’s eyes widen and then narrow suspiciously, that they’re communicating telepathically. The Slytherin shakes his head subtly, and then again a little more forcefully, before sighing heavily and rising to his feet. Holding his hand out, he helps Yoongi -- who looks as confused as Jimin feels -- to his feet before pointing noncommittally in the same direction their friends had gone.

“Apparently, I’m hungry enough to go searching for a snack, even though we have snacks in the tent.” Yoongi smirks at the clear annoyance in Hoseok’s voice, tugging him toward the crowd.

“Come on -- let’s go find a tree to make out under.” Immediately, Hoseok’s gaze becomes one of mischievous excitement, and he practically skips after the shorter boy into the distance. Jimin makes a noise of disgust, mirrored by Y/n’s expression.

Jimin only properly registers that they’re alone when his phone automatically starts playing a slower song -- rather, he properly registers that Y/n had asked Hoseok to leave them alone. Turning to her suddenly as if for an explanation, he finds that she’s staring into the fire with the intensity of someone who’s very socially awkward. He can’t help the breath of laughter that leaves him, one that becomes real laughter when she glares at him.

“You look like you just realized the consequences of your actions.” Her jaw drops, and she pushes at his shoulder, affronted.

“Sue me for wanting to spend time alone with you!” Immediately, she’s hiding her face in her hands, groaning. She wonders if maybe -- if she wishes for it enough -- the ground will just open up around her and swallow her whole. Her ears feel like they’re being set on fire when she hears Jimin’s laughter ringing through the air, and she hates that she loves the sound anyway.

“When are you just going to admit that you’re in love with me, Y/n? I promise I won’t laugh.” She mumbles something into her hands, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘you’re already laughing’. Jimin tugs at her wrist, dragging her out from her hiding spot and forcing her to look at him.

“How about we make a deal?” Y/n sends him another glare, but it’s her pout that catches his attention and drives him to the brink of insanity. “We can say it together -- count to three and admit how crazy we are about each other at the same time.” Y/n rolls her eyes and snatches her wrist from his hold, turning back to the fire, which has basically died down completely by now.

“Stop messing around, you big dork.” Jimin holds his hand to his chest and gasps.

“I have never been so serious about something in my life as I am about this.” He keeps talking, a dramatic monologue about his integrity, but something triggers the alarm bells in the back of her head -- the same alarm bells that have kept her alive up to this point -- and she’s immediately distracted.

Glancing around, she finds that nothing’s changed in their surroundings -- families and groups of friends still celebrate the start of the World Cup, the chaos of thousands of people in one place never-ending. But there’s something in the air, something that sets her nerves on edge. Looking up, she realizes that it’s gotten exceptionally dark, the clouds concentrating into one dense curtain in the sky, removing any sign that the stars had been there in the first place.

“Jimin, wait… this doesn’t feel right.” Realizing, based on the pained expression that fills Jimin’s face when she interrupts his secretly heartfelt rant, that she’s said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Y/n shakes her head quickly, motioning out into the distance. “I’m talking about this -- something’s off.” She ignores Jimin’s lingering eyes on her when she stands from her spot on the ground, looking to the treeline and taking in their surroundings. He joins her when he gets a clear look at her face and sees how urgent her gaze is.

The breeze is gone, leaving her with the taste of stale smoke in her lungs, the air still foggy from the bonfire. It seems the sense of freedom had left with the boys, since all she can feel is an invisible weight coming down on her chest -- something coming for her.

And come it does, in Jimin’s frozen form and horrified gaze, staring straight over Y/n’s shoulder into the sky behind her. Whipping around, terrified about what she might find, she’s stepping backwards and colliding with Jimin’s chest before she can even register what she’s seeing. The clouds have darkened considerably and are moving of their own accord, twisting and turning as they take shape in the sky. Jimin begins to shake uncontrollably as the storm clouds become one, revealing the skull with the open jaw, a massive snake emerging from within and wrapping itself cleanly around the top.

“That’s-”

“Guys!”

“Jimin, Y/n-”

“We’re so fucked!” The rest of the group comes crashing into the space in panicked chaos, tearing through their campsite with thinly veiled terror. Taehyung and Namjoon make a beeline for their tent as the sounds of pained screams start to filter in, replacing the comfortable memories of the bonfire with something much darker. Yoongi stands near the fire pit, turning in circles and pulling at his hair desperately as he realizes where they are.

“This isn’t -- this tent, it’s in the middle of --” He stops, breathing hard, hands still buried in his hair as the thought finally hits. “My parents put us in the middle of Slytherin territory.”

Jin comes in behind everyone else, firing curses over his shoulder as he calls out to the group, scanning their faces and doing a mental headcount.

“We need to get out of here -- the muggleborns should go first.” He locks eyes with Namjoon as the older Ravenclaw exits the tent carrying a bag. Namjoon nods, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist and moving toward Y/n, who hasn’t left Jimin’s side.

“I grabbed everything important, so let’s just go.” He reaches for Y/n’s arm, triggering Jimin’s protectiveness. Jimin pulls her closer on instinct, and Namjoon sighs as he releases Taehyung in order to grab both of them. “We need to go.” He addresses Y/n under his breath. “You’re not safe here, either.” They keep eye contact for just a moment, but it’s enough that Y/n is left with the feeling of ice in her blood even after Namjoon’s turned back to the group.

How much… does he know?

Before she can question Jimin about Namjoon’s suspicious behavior, Jimin’s tugging her toward his friends as they move toward the edge of the forest. Pulling back and forcing Jimin to a stop, Y/n points at Jungkook, who has now flanked Jin and is defending one part of their campsite from the oncoming hoard of Slytherins.

“I’m not leaving without him.” The conflicted look that crosses Jimin’s face tears at Y/n’s heart, but she stands her ground, motioning back toward Jungkook. “I have to stay-”

“What? No, you have to go!” The call comes from behind her, and it’s only a matter of moments before Jungkook is by her side, shoving her into Jimin’s arms. “Take her with you! Don’t you ever let her out of your sight-”

“Jungkook, watch out-”

Taehyung yells out to him, just a moment too late. Y/n watches in horror as a red light appears just over Jungkook’s shoulder. It grows bigger and bigger as it flies toward them, accompanied by the disgusted shriek of “Blood Traitor!”, and all she can do is hug Jungkook to her as she waits for the curse to strike him in between his shoulder blades.

Pulling him close, she barely manages to catch the flash of silver that appears, encompassing them as another body slides into view and blocks out everything else. The shield charm is cast wordlessly and so powerfully that it knocks the Slytherin who’d attacked them clean off his feet. Thrown back at least ten feet, he’s left bewildered and sore.

Hoseok stands between Jungkook and the army of Slytherins, breathing heavily as the shield dissipates around them. He holds his head high as he stares down the group, resigning himself to the fact that, after years of hiding his true self from his housemates, his loyalties have been clearly defined in that moment.

The silence that follows is only broken by the soft fwip of a wand being slipped out of a pocket, and it’s as Hoseok is whipping his head around that another red light appears, its caster completely silent. The curse burns through the air, almost as if in slow motion, cutting through the space right under Hoseok’s ear with the sharp precision of a skilled marksman and meeting its target on the other side, searing the ends of Hoseok’s hair as it goes. The Slytherin who’d been poised to attack from the treeline is hurled backwards, disappearing into the forest as everyone watches him go, Yoongi’s wand still trained on the spot where he’d stood.

The cold fury that fills Yoongi’s eyes is replaced with concern as he lowers his wand and rushes to Hoseok’s side, giving him a once over before turning to face the growing crowd of Death Eaters in-training, aligning his loyalties just the same as Hoseok had. Y/n allows herself the small smile that arises when she sees the gaze that Hoseok casts upon Yoongi, filled with the kind of love she could only hope to have in her own life. The moment doesn’t last long.

The group of friends, realizing almost simultaneously that they’re being surrounded, forms a huddle facing outward, wands steady as they prepare for the attack.

“If we make it out of this shit alive, I’m going to throw the biggest fit of my life when I get home.” The mention of the Dark Lord’s most loyal Min family sets off the first wave of curses, their traitorous son the target.

One by one, the group takes down their attackers, tiring out but never giving up. Minimal injuries are sustained on their end, their will to survive too strong to forgive even the slightest mistake. Jimin keeps one hand on Y/n at all times, unwilling to lose track of her for even a moment, as if she’s not been stuck to his side all night.

Curses rain down on them from all sides, the Dark Mark in the sky peeking through the shower of red lights as they fight for their lives. Jimin feels Y/n stagger beside him, but she seems to be unharmed when he looks her over. Glancing in alarm at the moon, barely visible amongst all the smoke and mayhem, Jimin curses under his breath as he remembers the date -- and more importantly, that she hadn’t yet taken her dose for the night. He pours all his energy into his attacks from that moment on, everything suddenly becoming much more urgent.

Time passes so slowly that none of them are quite sure how long they’ve been there, fighting in a war they’d never asked for. Just when Y/n thinks they might be losing -- that they might be forced to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, or even killed where they stand -- there’s a loud pop and a gush of wind passes over all of them.

From within their circle comes the angered cry of Sirius Black, who manages to deflect a rather mean curse headed straight for Jin’s chest. He’s followed by James and Remus, the three of them throwing themselves into the mix so carelessly that it catches the Slytherins by surprise. James takes advantage of the delay, surging out of the circle toward the largest density of Slytherins and pointing his wand at the ground closest to them.

“Confringo!” The earth beneath their feet shudders under James’ command, collapsing in on itself before exploding outward, sending no less than 10 people flying through the air and creating a chaos too intense for the rest to handle. The world around them becomes fuzzy and confusing, and Y/n feels nothing except the hands that pull at her and urge her forward into the forest.

They all manage to stumble far enough away from the mess to gather their bearings, but the shouts of their enemies are not far off. As soon as they confirm that they’re all alive and relatively unscathed, Remus takes Y/n by the elbow and pulls her gently to him. Jimin is reluctant to let her go.

“I need to talk to you -- we have to go somewhere safe.” Sirius is collecting the rest of the group and giving them the location of a safe place to meet, a small cottage in the countryside where he and Remus had been living.

“You guys head there first, we’ll meet you.” He hands the keys to Jungkook, who nods in understanding as he sees that Remus has no intention to rejoin the group. Jimin starts to reach for Y/n, unhappy with their separation, but Hoseok speaks up from the back. He’s being half-carried by Yoongi, his leg having suffered a bit of damage from James’ blasting curse, but not so much that he couldn’t walk. Y/n bites back a smirk, suspecting that Hoseok had just been looking for an excuse to need Yoongi, who is absolute garbage at hiding how pleased he is.

“Make sure you come back soon. I trust you guys, and I know you need to talk in private, but I don’t like not having Y/n close in times like this.” Remus nods, acknowledging Jungkook as well, before leading Y/n away. The boys start to apparate away, James helping Hoseok and Yoongi get to the house safely before returning to join his friends. Remus has led Y/n a safe enough distance away that the Slytherins would have a hard time finding them and is explaining the gravity of the situation to her.

“-- to infiltrate a pack of werewolves living in the mountains. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Y/n.” Y/n examines Remus’ face, noting the new scars and the exhaustion that lies heavy in his eyes. He looks nothing like the bright school boy from just a few months ago, and she knows he’s seen unimaginable things in the short time that he’s been working under Dumbledore. They all look drained and, frankly, terrified. The lives they’d been promised from a young age were fading away into this dreary nothingness, this thankless job where nothing is more uncertain than the future.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Just tell me you’ll be careful -- all of you.” Remus looks taken aback by her words, and Sirius can’t suppress the soft chuckle that escapes him, amazed at this girl standing before him, not nearly as reserved as they’d all thought her to be.

“Of course we’ll be careful, love. Don’t you trust us?” Y/n shakes her head, smiling despite her scoff.

“Trust you guys? I didn’t realize you were an aspiring comedian, Sirius.” They laugh openly now, thankful for even just this moment of reprieve from the hell they live in. Remus leans over, patting her adoringly on her head, as if they weren’t damn near the same age.

“Good, that’s good. Don’t trust anyone, Y/n, you hear me? Don’t trust anyone you wouldn’t die for. Can you do that for me?” Y/n nods, the picture of those boys in that cottage in the countryside coming to mind so easily.

“I know who my people are. There’s no one else besides them -- and you guys. So try your best not to get yourselves killed?” James salutes her once as Sirius nods. Remus moves to agree, but the sound of leaves crunching not too far away triggers an immediate response in him. Lunging forward and taking her into his arms, he throws Y/n over his shoulder and takes off running, knowing better than anyone else what it would mean if she were caught. Y/n watches with horror as two Death Eaters appear out of what looks like thin air, sending James and Sirius into action. She can do nothing but watch as they deflect curses while maintaining their ground.

Remus sets her down a long distance away, trying to warn her again, but her attention is on the action they’d just managed to escape. She tries to push past him to go help James and Sirius, but he grabs her by the shoulders quickly and forces her to look at him, shaking her roughly in the process.

“Listen to me, Y/n- listen to me!” She meets his eyes, alarmed by the frustration in his voice. “The public knows. They know now just to what extent the werewolf population is siding with Voldemort. Everything before this summer was just speculation -- of course the evil magical beasts should side with the Dark Lord, right? Well, the Minister of Magic just released a statement this morning. Everyone knows now. And it won’t matter how much we cry and beg and plead for our lives -- if they catch us, we’re dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Y/n can do no more than stare into Remus’ eyes, wishing this all away -- wishing that they could just be back in school, a bunch of kids with no worries about the war. But the longer she stares into his eyes, the longer she realizes that they don’t just have to worry about the war now. They’re part of it. Two werewolves with way too many people keeping their secret. James, Sirius, Peter, Jungkook, Hoseok, and now Jimin? And --

Does Namjoon know, too? Just who the hell else has to be put into danger because of what I am?

Y/n steps through the front gate of the cottage, having been dropped off by Remus -- she’s not of age yet to apparate alone -- before he disappeared again, presumably to help his friends escape. She’s barely within ten feet of the front door when it’s flying open, Jimin appearing before her with wild eyes. He rushes at her, taking her into his arms with a desperation he didn’t even know he felt. She pats at his back, unsure of what to say, still dazed from everything Remus had told her.

“I was only gone a few minutes…” Jimin pulls back, looking at her as if she’s insane.

“I don’t care. Those were the worst few minutes of my life. I hated not knowing if you were okay.” He looks her over, patting at her arms gently. “You are okay, right?” When she nods he sighs before glancing around them urgently as if realizing they’re out in the open. He tugs her inside, shutting the door tightly behind them. He’s about to motion her down the hallway into the living room, where the rest of their friends are regrouping, but she stops him. The look she gives him is suspicious, and he’s unsure why.

“Jimin, you told me you would never breathe a word of what I am to anyone…” He looks at her with alarm, shaking his head.

“I didn’t tell anyone anything -- why? What happened?” She examines him for a moment, seeing that Jimin’s as confused as she is. She proceeds with caution, realizing that if Jimin really hadn’t said anything, then this conversation is about to be very uncomfortable.

“I think… Namjoon might know something…” Jimin feels like he can’t breathe then, the air stopping short in his chest as his heart drops out from under him. He swears without thinking, the word slipping out as he processes what she’s saying.

“Fuck… shit… fuck…” Y/n squints at him, unsure of where his mind’s just gone. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, another swear falling from his lips as guilt overcomes him. He opens his mouth to explain, but he can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

“Before I figured out… everything, I would talk to Joon about things that confused me… about you.” He opens his eyes just enough to glance at her before looking away, but he’s surprised that she isn’t fuming with anger. She’s only thinking carefully about his words.

“So, he probably put it together on his own.” She comes to the conclusion as she ponders, offering the reason for Namjoon’s comment to her earlier. Jimin lurches forward, taking her hand in both of his, eyes pleading.

“I swear to you, Y/n, I didn’t say a word of this to him after I figured it out. I completely dropped it, and when he asked me why, I just told him I was respecting your privacy by minding my own business -- I promise, I never said anything--”

“Jimin!” His name cuts through the air, and his mouth snaps shut immediately to give her room to talk. “I’m not mad at you. I’m more worried than anything… I wonder who else knows…”

“Uhm, actually--” The new voice has them both turning to look to the end of the hallway, where Tae’s standing awkwardly in the doorway to the living room. He’s flanked by Jin and Yoongi, Namjoon standing with Jungkook and Hoseok just inside the room.

“--I think we all know…” The blood drains from both Y/n and Jimin’s faces as Jungkook and Hoseok look to each other in alarm. Jin nods, Yoongi smiling awkwardly to confirm what Tae’s saying. The air in the house is cold, no one willing to break the tense silence while Y/n processes what she’s just heard. She meets Jungkook’s eyes then, his gaze betraying the immense fear that he’s feeling, much like the ice running through her veins.

None of them even notice the front door opening behind Jimin, the three Marauders stumbling into the house, disheveled but generally unscathed. They stop short at the scene before them, glancing amongst themselves before James is breaking the silence himself.

“Are we… interrupting something…?”

“Okay, someone start talking before I go insane.” They’re all crowded into the living room meant only for a few people, Y/n and Remus sitting together on a couch in the middle of the room, everyone else taking up the extra seats and floor space. It looks like a club meeting gone horribly wrong, if the discomfort in everyone’s eyes is anything to go by. Y/n looks around after demanding an explanation, finally looking to Namjoon, as he’s the only one she’d been aware of until a few minutes ago. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“After Jimin suddenly stopped all the obsessive theorizing and curiosities, I got suspicious… I had a feeling he’d put everything together, and I was worried that he was getting himself into some kind of trouble because that’s just the kind of nosy Ravenclaw he is. I just put it together myself so I could help him if I needed to…” Jimin grimaces at Namjoon’s words, knowing them to be true but disliking the description all the same.

The glare of irritation Jungkook’s been shooting him doesn’t help, but Hoseok pulls the Gryffindor’s attention away with a bump of his knee against Jungkook’s thigh. When Jungkook drags his burning gaze away from Jimin to look at Hoseok, Jimin’s shocked to see that Hoseok’s simply shaking his head at the Jeon heir, silently telling him to back off. Jimin’s eyes widen then, never having experienced such a sense of stunned relief as he feels in this moment with Hoseok’s quiet support.

Jungkook turns his annoyed gaze over to the spot where Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi sit. He locks eyes with his roommate of six years.

“Tae?” The boy in question looks down at his hands sheepishly, glancing at Y/n in a way that seems almost apologetic. When he lifts his head, he speaks directly to her, feeling that his explanation should be for her and her alone.

“Jimin’s my best friend… it would be weird if I wasn’t worried about him with him acting so strange. I didn’t really figure it out until the beginning of the summer, when I started spending more time with you -- I noticed how sick you’d get around the same time each month, and you’d always look so tired afterwards. I know we don’t know each other as well as Jimin knows you, but I was worried about you, so I… did my own digging and put the pieces together. It also explained a lot about all the times Jungkook would run out of our room in a panic in the middle of the night. There were just… a lot of things that made sense once I’d started to think about it.” Y/n keeps her eyes on him, trying to process the guilt in his eyes and wondering why he sounds so upset. “I know that you’re probably terrified of us knowing, but I promise I was just worried about you. I’m sorry I was snooping in your life…”

Y/n sees then that Taehyung feels the same kind of responsibility that Jimin had always carried in his eyes -- one of fear that his actions would bring her harm. He’d been sitting with that for the whole summer, quietly trying his best to keep her safe by pretending he knew nothing at all. She opens her mouth to tell him that he has nothing to feel bad about, but Jin’s clearing his throat.

“I, uh-- we--” He gestures to the space between himself and Yoongi, whose gaze is one of cautious observation as the conversation goes on around him. “We… were on our way back to Yoongi’s room and overheard you and Hoseok talking -- something about Jimin finding out… Hoseok was really upset, and he was kind of yelling. We didn’t mean to eavesdrop -- it’s just that we were right outside, and you were trying to calm him down, and he was just saying a lot of stuff that was confusing and weird, but it was obvious what was going on.” Jin glances over at Yoongi as if to confirm his story, and the Slytherin only nods. He turns back to Y/n, finishing his explanation. “We found out together--”

“Actually--” Everyone’s attention turns to Yoongi, who shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. He clears his throat, scratching at his neck while he finds his words. “Actually… I already knew by then. I think, based on what everyone’s been saying, that I probably knew before any of them…” He trails off, leaving the group to devolve into strained chaos.

“Wait, you knew?”

“How long have you known?!”

“When did you find out?” Ignoring the barrage of questions, Yoongi only looks to Hoseok, whose eyes tell how shocked he is. Flicking his gaze to Y/n, Yoongi continues.

“Do you remember when we first met? That night in the Hospital Wing -- it was before winter break.” Y/n’s jaw drops as her memories fly all the way back to December -- almost a year prior. “I went to visit you, originally because Hobi had mentioned something about going to visit a friend and I was looking for an excuse to see him.” Hoseok laughs under his breath, still stunned into disbelief about the situation, but Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking, almost rambling now.

“I had just found out that you guys were even friends -- it was really weird for me to think about, you know? Until then, he’d only ever been friends with Slytherins, and even then he seemed hesitant about getting close to them. I mean, I get it, that’s how I was, too. But to find out that my roommate since first year had a secret friend group with people that made no sense for him to know -- I was curious about you. I wanted to see what you were like. Especially because Jimin was, like, obsessed with you -- sorry, Jimin.” The Ravenclaw grimaces again, hating that he’s been described only as obsessive but knowing that that’s exactly what he’d been like.

“So… what does that have to do with finding out about me? How did you know?” Y/n leans forward, elbows on her knees as she looks intently at Yoongi. He sighs in response.

“Look. My entire life, I’ve been trying to separate myself from my name. My parents are objectively fucking insane, and I want nothing to do with them, especially now that they pulled that bullshit with the World Cup reservation. I can’t be like them, okay? I would rather die fighting on the right side of this war than ever pledge my allegiance to that nose-less freak. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still live at the Min Estate. And the Min Estate -- it’s like a beacon for the wicked and evil. I’ve seen every kind of creature walk through the doors of my house whenever my parents hold their Death Eater meetings. It’s like a monthly book club, but for murder. So I know what werewolves are like. I know the signs and the symptoms, and I know how cruel and vicious they can be.”

Y/n breaks her gaze then, staring down at her feet as he confirms every fear that she’s ever felt -- that she would be seen as a monster, an evil beast with only the instinct to kill. All the same, it hurts to hear him say it out loud.

“And that’s why I knew you were nothing like them.” Y/n’s head whips up, and she sees that Yoongi’s focused on conveying to her with his eyes that he means what he’s said. He doesn’t see the affection that fills Hoseok’s gaze, replacing the icy fear he’d been feeling the entire time Yoongi’s been talking.

“You’re nothing like them, Y/n. You’re kind and considerate, and you’re so shy around new people that even I’m in pain just watching you struggle to talk. You’re really fucking weird, and your sense of humor has been shaped by growing up with a crazy ass Gryffindor brother and this sarcastic asshole--” He points then to his boyfriend, finally feeling confident enough to look Hoseok in the eye as he cracks the joke before returning his attention to Y/n.

“So, yes, you’re a werewolf. But you’ve got nothing to worry about with me. Or any of us, to be honest.” The rest of the group nods then, and Y/n feels the air returning to her lungs after so long of holding her breath. It’s only when she looks to Remus, who still seems unsure, that she remembers how complicated their situation is.

“I appreciate that, I really do. You guys have no idea how scared I was that you’d find out… but it’s not as simple as you think -- not that any of this has been simple to begin with. It’s just… more complicated--”

“So, are we talking about Remus, or something else?” Taehyung speaks up, looking genuinely confused about what she’s alluding to. James and Sirius tense where they sit on either side of Remus, whose gaze has just become very guarded.

“I’m not sure what you mean--”

“The ‘you being a werewolf’ thing? Yeah, that wasn’t hard to figure out once I knew what to look for in Y/n.” It’s Jin who cuts him off, Yoongi and Namjoon nodding along. Jungkook throws his hands in the air, flopping back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.

“Just how bad are we at keeping things a secret around here?!” Remus groans in response, but James and Sirius seem to be taking the news in stride.

“Look on the bright side, Moony -- now we have an army of hooligans to keep you guys safe!” Remus rolls his eyes in irritation before looking to Y/n for help. She stares down at her hands, feeling more exhausted than she’s ever felt in her life -- and she experiences monthly painful transformations that leave her bedridden for days after.

“This isn’t a joke, James.” The Potter boy snaps his mouth shut when, for the first time since meeting her, Y/n’s voice carries an edge when she addresses him. “The number of people that are in danger now because of what we are has just doubled. And now there are muggleborns involved -- what’s going to happen if anyone gets wind that they know something about us? With what the Ministry’s just released… it’s too much. This is all too much.” Namjoon hums then, pulling Y/n out of the dangerously dark mental dive she was just about to take.

“I mean, we’re involved in this war whether we know about you guys or not. We’re already fighting for our lives -- what difference does it make if we know what you are? If anything, it gives us a reason to fight harder.” He gestures among all of them, all eleven of them in that room.

“We’re all we have left in this war -- why wouldn’t we do everything it takes to keep each other safe?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jimin x reader #park jimin

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vaxxy-the-raven · 3 years

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Not me sitting here thinking about Vax'ildan and Scanlan flirting on and off as they struggle with falling in love with other people and realising what it is love actually is for them and those people they are falling in love with.

Not me imagining them flirting over drinks, Scanlan playing a dirty song for Vax on a guitar, winking at Vax as Vax laughs and claps his hands in time.

Not me picturing the two walking hand in hand to throw people off from creeping on Vax when Vax has to go undercover as a princess for a job while Vex is sick and Keyleth doesn't look anything like the real princess.

Not Vax jumping in to save Scanlan from some upset bar patrons when Scanlan starts drunkenly singing about how sexy all of the woman in the bar are that night.

Not Scanlan writing a song that disses Syldor Vessar to hell and back to cheer up Vax after they run into Syldor for the first time since the twins ran away from Syngorn.

Not Vax carving a tiny wooden guitar figurine for Scanlan out of boredom one night and not Scanlan keeping it on him at all times after Vax dies.

Not Scanlan reassuring Vax that he's most definitely a man no matter what others say when Vax comes back from an almost one night stand crying and with a broken nose after the other person realized Vax was Trans. Certainly not Grog, Percy and Scanlan later tracking down the other person to give them a taste of their own medicine while Vax is distracted with a job.

Not Scanlan and Vax stargazing together on Scanlan's birthday because that's what Scanlan would do with his mother on his birthday back in the past.

Not Scanlan watching fondly as Pike gave Vax & Grog both maths and reading & writing in Common lessons, not Scanlan taking both men out to celebrate after a good day of lessons or for passing a test.

Not Scanlan helping Vax through episodes of overstimulation by creating the mansion just for himself and Vax to hide in with some stuff Vax finds soothing added to it.

Not Scanlan singing Byroden lullabies to Vax whenever Vax wakes up crying from a dream about Thordak attacking Byroden with Vax's mother still sleeping away in her bed.

Not Scanlan locking himself away for a few months after Vax's death, just writing poem after song after biography after poem after song and so on while grieving Vax's life being cut way too short in battle when he himself got to live "for so fucking long!"

Not Scanlan and Pike growing snowdrops in their garden after they marry and move into a small cottage in Byroden together, with Grog of course, roughly where the twins' old house used to stand.

And definitely not Scanlan and Pike naming their second child, and first son, after one of their best friends; Vax'ildan.

Not Pike and Scanlan occasionally babysitting Vex and Percy's children, not Scanlan singing songs and telling stories of Vax to the kids, not Pike crying and telling Vex'ahlia about this when Scanlan isn't around.

Not Keyleth and Scanlan talking about Vax over wine together, reminiscing about how it is they met the rogue and laughing about how Vax was always getting kidnapped or severely hurt.

Not Scanlan visiting Vax's grave whenever he's in Whitestone, not Scanlan taking wine and dark chocolate as offerings to Vax himself instead of the Raven Queen at the temple in the crypt Percy had commissioned for Vax, not Scanlan visiting Vax's grave on Vax's birthday to sing Vax's favourite Byroden lullabies.

Not Scanlan picturing Vax smiling at him when it's finally his time to pass away too, laying in bed surrounded by family, dying peacefully.

#critical role #cr spoilers #vax'ildan #scanlan shorthalt #vaxlan #pike trickfoot #pikelan #grog strongjaw #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #keyleth #vaxleth #critical role headcanons #trans vax'ildan #neurodivergent vax'ildan #lynias shut up challenge #long post

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Night Changes [Nine]

Summary: Will Poe and the reader be reunited?

Warnings: Angst, character deaths, language, smut. TW-pregnancy, birth, infant, breastfeeding. WC—+10k

A/N-At the end.

“Rey,” At the sound of her name, Rey paused and glanced around to see Leia standing next to the Falcon, waiting. Meeting her kind eyes, she hoped Leia wasn’t going to try and convince her not to go again; she’d already told the wise General that she had to find the Wayfinder, that she needed to complete Luke’s mission and get to Exegol. Finn, Poe, Chewbacca and C3PO were already on board, waiting for her to join them; it was time to leave.

“Leia?” She stepped toward her mentor, who looked around cautiously before lowering her voice to speak to Rey.

“I need to give you something.”

Rey frowned, confused, glancing down to Leia’s empty, “What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, her eyes tired. Rey understood—she felt exhausted too. “I can’t explain it. And you must keep it to yourself until the moment is right—trust me, you’ll know when that is—if you do end up needing to,” Leia took hold of Rey’s hands, squeezing, “I’ll show you, but you must keep it tucked away no matter what.”

Seeing the seriousness in Leia’’s eyes, Rey swallowed and nodded, “Of course. I promise.” She returned the pressure to the General’s hands and watched as she reached up and pressed her fingers gently to Rey’s temple.

In a brief flash, Rey saw enough to understand.

As he was pushed roughly through the doors to an open hangar with Finn and Chewie, Poe couldn’t help but reflect on his life over the past year and a half. He’d had a lot of close calls, even been captured, but this was the first time he felt like he was going to die, as General Hux and a couple of Storm Troopers stood behind them, ready to execute Poe and his friends. He hoped Rey was able to escape, at least.

And Leia could get the news of his death to you. She would make sure you were taken care of for the rest of your life. He had no regrets, no, not with you on some planet far away from all of this and free to raise the baby. He’d done everything he could, fought as hard as possible, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to live.

Poe tried to picture what the baby might look like, whether they got your smile, his hair. Pain shot through his broken heart that his child would grow with only pictures of him, no memories. He glanced up at Finn, eager to distract himself; he could hear Hux speaking to the Troopers and ignored them.

“What were you going to tell Rey before?”

Finn hesitated, appearing uncomfortable, “You still on that?”

“Oh,” Poe frowned at him incredulously, “Is this a bad time?” He just wanted to hear Finn admit aloud he had feelings for Rey. He could sense it between them, especially recently, and thought that they made a good pair. In another life he could see himself with them, you at his side, enjoying a late-night dinner, laughing around a table while the kids pretended to be asleep in their bedrooms.

Nodding, Finn gave Poe a wary look, “It sort of is?” Poe scoffed, shaking his head.

“So I tell you my deepest secrets but right before we’re about to die you’re locking down on yours?” Poe hadn’t just told Finn about you; after he’d confessed your existence, he hadn’t been able to stop sharing with his friend, who listened attentively as Poe described his life with you, how he’d love you since he was ten years old.

Finn blanched, and after a pause opened his mouth to respond, only shots went off behind them and they flinched. Poe expected to feel pain, or perhaps nothing if the shot was well placed, only they heard thuds behind them and instead glanced around to find Hux holding a blaster, eyes on the dead Troopers momentarily before he looked up at them.

“I’m the spy.” He claimed, a dark smirk on his twisted face, and Poe felt a rush of confused relief—he and Finn exchanged looks as Chewie groaned.

“What?” He exclaimed at the same moment Finn yelled, “You?” In disbelief.

Hux ignored them, “We don’t have much time, we have to go.” He gestured for them to follow and after a brief pause, they hastened to climb to their feet.

Poe hurried forward and grabbed a few of the fallen Troopers blasters, passing them to Finn and Chewie before taking one for himself. His blood was rushing, the feeling of being alive still—of getting lucky, again—made him feel powerful like you were out there somewhere sending him the strength and good fortune that he needed at every turn.

As they ran behind Hux, Finn touched Poe’s arm. “That was too close—made me realize, do you have a way of her knowing if something happens to you?”

Poe nodded, “Leia will tell her.”

But he sincerely hoped that would never happen, that you wouldn’t be standing in the doorway of some home he’d never know and hear the words that he had died, that he was never coming for you. The idea of you being in that kind of pain was something he couldn’t fully fathom, and it only renewed his determination to get to the Wayfinder and finish this fight once and for all.

11 Months Ago

“Doesn’t matter how many galaxies separate us, I will always be with you, and you with me. I promise.”

Memories of your life with Poe had a way of burrowing into the forefront of your mind when you least expect them; when you let your guard down. The emotional goodbye all those years before, back on Yavin-4 when you were just kids—Poe leaving with Charlie to join the Resistance...it was a lifetime ago. And as much as you believed his words both then and now, it didn’t make the pain any easier to endure as you lay here without him, the Healer and Kes having left you alone with the newborn baby cradled in your arms.

You were surprised when the Healer had passed you the baby—after almost nine hours of labour—to see the tuft of dark curls on their head; Kes had remarked that Poe had come into the world with as much hair, and you’d laughed through your mixed tears of sorrow and joy and love. So they took after their dad—what a beautiful, heartbreaking thought.

Stars, you hoped Poe would meet them before long--before they grew too much. Just seeing the tiny creature, skin-to-skin with you like the Healer recommended, both made your heart feel complete while simultaneously tearing it apart. He should have been here to hold your hand, to cut the cord and press soft kisses to both of your heads and cry tears of joy from it all.

It wasn’t fair. Up until this moment you’d been able to lock back to anger and the bitter feelings over having let Poe send you away because it had been the right choice no matter what way you looked at it. But now, as you lay exhausted and bursting with love for the baby you made with your soulmate, you let some of that anger free through wretched sobs because it wasn’t fair that he had to miss this, that for all you knew he could be...

You stopped yourself from thinking of the worst-case scenario. It wasn’t helpful to imagine what he was doing now, where he was, if he was okay. And you’d promised him you would keep him alive in your mind unless you knew for certain that he wasn’t.

A small whine met your ears and you glanced down at the baby, smiling at their pinched expression as they struggled to adapt to their new surroundings. “It’s okay, little bug. Mama is here, shhh...” You cooed softly, running a lone finger over their hair in a gentle motion. You watched their eyes flutter beneath the lids, enjoying the feel of your touch, and then froze when they opened their eyes for the first time to look up at you blearily.

Stars, they had Poe’s eyes.

Now - 35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

When Temmin died, Poe truly began to lose all hope.

Before watching another friend’s x-wing get shot down, he’d managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel for that hope, for any remaining belief that they could win this fucking fight. That everything he’d ever sacrificed was worth it because now they had arrived and it was time to put an end to it all—but then he was screaming for Snap to watch his six, heard the anguished cry through the comm when he was hit, the searing memory of losing Charlie so many years before in the same way making his stomach churn, and he just felt so...

So fucking hopeless.

Leia was gone. The Resistance was down to pathetic numbers, and he had finally lost all hope.

Shit, if he was being honest with himself he’d been running through these last few days with urgency and adrenaline that prevented him from overthinking the odds, a blissful denial that anything other than winning could occur. When he’d told the remaining fighters of the Resistance that this was their final stand, that help would come, he had meant it as much as he’d hoped it was true.

“Help will come if they know there is hope,” Poe had stared around at his friends, at their doubting expressions, “They will. We have friends out there. The First Order wins by making us think we’re alone. We’re not alone—good people will fight if we lead them.”

In all of the time that had passed between when he’d said goodbye to you to this moment, he’d never once regretted sending you far away from the fight. Even here, with Rebel, after Rebel dying and a fleet of Destroyer’s that would wipe out entire planets unless they bent to the will of the First Order, he felt a sense of peace knowing that you were safely tucked away well beyond the reaches of their tyranny. His child would grow up with a mother who could share stories of Poe’s life, his love for you, for them.

It still stung, though, knowing he would never see you again. That he would die fighting and his last thoughts would be of you, of his little family, and you would have no idea. He hoped when you did find out the Resistance was done, the fight was lost, that you didn’t take it too hard—didn’t blame yourself in any way. He wanted you to be mad at him, not at yourself, not after everything you’d done for him, everything you had sacrificed.

He almost could have laughed, bleak as the outlook now was it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did that no aid had arrived, that Lando and Chewie flew to the inner core worlds for nothing—clearly, no one was coming. Just like the Battle of Crait, they were alone; only now Leia was gone and Poe was the General, he was the one everyone was screaming for orders from through the comms, he was the one that had to say it aloud.

“My friends,” His voice was scratchy, choked up, as his mind played flashes of his life—of you, of losing Charlie, marrying you, losing Leia. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

He would die taking down as many enemies as he could. He would tell the rest of them to either do the same or flee—he wouldn’t blame them if they fled. Poe could almost imagine himself doing it, but the idea of finding you somewhere out there and saying he’d left at the final hour made bile heave in his stomach. He would never abandon the fight, not when you had wanted to stay as much as you had, but left for the baby.

As he struggled to pull in a breath to speak, he recalled the last time he saw you.

It was late, the base quiet and most of the Rebels sleeping, all except for Poe and you—it was time to say goodbye, under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t allowed to follow you into the hangar because he couldn’t know even the most minute details of how you got off-planet. Still, he would walk you as far as he could, and savour every final second together.

“I changed my mind, I’m not leaving you.” You whispered, halting in the hallway and turning to face Poe. One hand ran absentmindedly over your swollen stomach, the other reached up to grip his forearm. Your lower lip trembled, and he felt every word you wanted to say to convince him you should stay.

Poe took a shuddering breath, “Sweet girl, you aren’t leaving me—stop thinking about it like that. You’re saving our baby, keeping them safe, remember?” He tried to keep the desperate plea minimal in his voice because it had been like this for the last few days. One moment you were reluctantly prepared to leave, the next you were begging to stay. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could stand before he broke down and let you stay.

Your pretty eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, just like his. You’d each cried more than enough to last a lifetime, and although heat pricked the corners of his eyes now he knew no more tears could come until you were out of sight. He would cry in his bed alone tonight, and probably every night until he saw you again, but right now he needed to show strength.

You stepped into his arms and Poe hugged you close, your body angling your stomach so that it wasn’t pressed between you both. “I don’t...Poe, I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.”

Poe stared at you in disbelief, “Not strong enough? Are you kidding me?” He brought his hands to cup your cheeks gently, “You are the strongest person I know. What you are about to do for us, for our baby, is the most incredible sacrifice anyone could make. Everything you are doing and have done in your life only proves how amazing and strong you are—no matter what happens, please never forget that, okay?”

You whimpered sadly, nodding your head, and Poe shakily pressed his lips to yours, capturing you for one last kiss. It was soft and for one brief moment, he let himself imagine it was a greeting, though in truth it only made his heart fracture further rather than make him feel any better.

“Whatever happens, Poe, we’ll be okay...so don’t worry about us, focus on yourself,” You reached up and pushed your hands into his curls, savouring them one final time. “Promise me you’ll never stop fighting, flyboy.”

Poe smiled sadly down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your beautiful face, “Never, sweetheart, I promise I’ll never stop fighting. And this isn’t goodbye,” He pressed one hand gently against your belly, “It’s just a...see you soon. Once I’m finished blowing shit up in my x-wing.”

You laughed, tears streaming down your face and then pulled Poe against you again, his hand stuck between your bodies as you crushed him in a strong embrace. “I love you, Poe.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

35 ABY - Sorgan

You missed flying, though the place Leia had sent Kes and you to barely had any air traffic, the planet much too out of the way. Still, it had a sky that night or day you’d find yourself gazing into, wishing you could feel that weightlessness that came with blasting off from base, that you would look to your left and see Poe in his ship, the stars stretching beyond.

Poe. Stars, you missed him more and more every day. You had trouble believing it had been over a year, that the baby was now eleven months old and starting to try and walk and they’d never met their father. Though each time this knowledge became too heavy, you reminded yourself of the peaceful life you were living on Sorgan and how that had been the whole point of you leaving the fight—for the baby, for safety.

Sorgan was so far removed that no news reached the planet from the middle and core rims, something you’re sure Leia knew when she decided to send you here. You sometimes felt suffocated, not knowing a single thing about what was happening out there, but then you knew if you did know, it might make it harder to stay. And you couldn’t leave, you knew that for certain the moment you’d laid eyes on your newborn when the Healer had set the baby in your arms, face pinched as shrieks filled the air until they’d calmed, skin to skin with you.

You had gazed at the beautiful baby and you knew that you could never bear to part from them, no matter what you did or didn’t know about the war. Nonetheless, it was perhaps infinitesimally easier to be ignorant and allow yourself to imagine that it was all going fine.

You were living in a small but cozy yurt on the edge of a fishing village. The simple space comprised of the main room that hosted the barebones kitchen with a big table to eat at and a couple of comfortable sitting chairs, and had two rooms, one on either side, for sleeping quarters. The baby was in a crib at the end of your bed, where you were laying now. Very much awake even as they slept soundly.

Or so you thought until you were jerking from your thoughts at their sudden cries. You waited for a minute, the soft cries more whimpers than anything, and hoped the baby would soothe themselves back to sleep. They hiccuped, however, and started to cry again from the jolt. You sighed before sliding out from under the covers and padding softly to their crib.

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” You accused, grinning at the baby with the scrunched face, all the drama of their dad and only eleven months. Carefully lifting them, you tucked the baby against your chest and began to stroll slow circles around the bedroom, swaying as you went. “You know, when your dad finally comes and meets you he’s taking night duty over. I don’t care how many wars he wins.”

The little coo you got in response was enough to tell you Bug was on your side.

Though every day apart from Poe was painful, you did savour the good moments with the little piece of your heart that remained, beating for the baby you held now. And on this peaceful, sleepy planet most days had plenty of good—even if you were sad. Kes was an incredibly positive man, and like his son knew how to read you well, often stepping in to whisk the baby away whenever he sensed your sorrow was too hard to contain. You tried to spend all of the energy you had smiling for Bug because that was the only thing you could really do.

The guilt was heavy. You knew Poe would be devastated if he knew just how much you carried, living so comfortably—if a little rustic—on Sorgan all while he spent every day fighting to stay alive. But it was easier to focus on that guilt, to hate yourself than it was to be afraid of losing him—never seeing him again. Stars, the guilt was practically a salve in comparison to that.

Some days though, it was harder to keep the frame of mind that staying was the only option. As the baby grew, the guilt began to feed a steady flow of ‘what if’s’ into your mind. It was getting harder to ignore the sense of it. When Bug started to mix food into their diet, weaning partially from your breastmilk, you told yourself you could wean them completely, earlier than you planned but then you could hire a ship to take you back to D’Qar...

Only, you didn’t even know if D’Qar was still safe anymore.

It was a circular battle you couldn’t win no matter the choice you made, though you always chose the baby, chose to stay because you promised Poe you would. He’d told you that you were making the greatest sacrifice, and he had been right—he knew he could distract himself with the fight, and that you would only be able to distract yourself so much with raising the baby. He understood you would spend every day apart wishing you could rejoin him.

A soft snore pulled you from your thoughts and you glanced down at the baby to find them fast asleep again. You smiled fondly, that little chunk of your heart giving a happy beat as you settled them back into their crib and ran your fingers gently over their soft cheek.

“Goodnight, Charlie, my sweet girl.” You whispered heart clenching at the sight of her chubby cheeks relaxed in sleep.

Deciding a cool drink was needed, you slipped from the quiet of your room and into the main extension of the yurt you shared with Kes. A single lamp lit the small space dimly, and you helped yourself to a glass of water and took a seat at the table. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there before Kes appeared and sat down across from you with a knowing smile on his face.

He sat silently for a few minutes as you sipped at your drink, speaking only once you’d finished. “Can’t sleep again?”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair, exhaustion setting deep in your bones.

“I keep having the same dream, Kes. Poe and Bug, back home on Yavin-4. Only, the beach is in colour but they aren’t.” You choked up, glancing toward your room, where you could see the crib through the doorway.

Kes followed your gaze, “Bug will meet him someday. I know it. You need to believe that too, kiddo, and you really need to get some sleep.” He patted your hand gently before standing and you watched him make his way to his room, pulling the curtain across his doorway as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed your palms into your closed eyes, willing your mind to settle so that you could go to bed and get some rest. You just don’t think you could stand to have the dream again—always waking up and wondering, would you ever really get to see Poe again? Would he ever get to meet his little girl?

When you climbed back beneath the cool sheets of your bed, you fell into light sleep, your dreams the same as ever—Poe playing with Charlie on the beach back home on Yavin-4 while you sat on a blanket on the sand watching, laughing as they splashed each other. Your family, together again.

35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

As wretched as it was to think of never seeing you again, this wasn’t the first time he thought he was going to die. At least here, in his x-wing, he could take out as many enemies as he could before going out in a blaze—just like...like Charlie.

“I thought we had a shot. There’s too many of them.” He finished speaking to the remaining fighters in resignation, his eyes heavy—he was tired, so tired. Enough so that when a new, familiar voice came clear over the comms, he sat up straighter before his mind even registered what they were saying.

“Oh, but there’s more of us, Poe. There’s more of us.”

Poe spun his ship around, his heart frozen in his chest, flew up over the wreckage of the one First Order ship they’d so far managed to take out—and there it was.

Lando and Chewie were back; he could see the Falcon, and behind them were thousands and thousands of ships. And still, more coming as he looked, pulling out of light speed to fall in with the Falcon. Poe could hardly believe his eyes, but right before him, he couldn’t doubt for a moment that his friends had come back and they...

They had brought hope.

You sat with your toes in the water, the sun shining on your back warm and comforting. Charlie splashed around happily, her water suit covering her arms and legs, joining her cute straw hat in protecting her from too much sunlight. She kept looking from the water around her chubby legs to the flowing stream behind her-as if dissatisfied with the ankle-deep water you had set her in.

“You can go in the river in a few years,” You cocked a brow at her as she gave you a pouty look. “You’re very cute, but mama says no.”

With a resigned sigh that seemed far too mature for her, she went back to splashing the water and you slid your toes towards her, wriggling them so that she tried to catch hold. When she managed to grab your big toe, you laughed and she giggled brightly, her gleeful peals filling the quiet around you.

It was a beautiful day on Sorgan. They all were, really, even the rainy days, the ones that kept you inside the yurt listening to the rain while Kes tried to teach Charlie how to crawl and you laughed as you watched them. But the sunny days were the best, the ones you could fill with endless activity to distract yourself as much as to tire out the baby. Because when your mind settled, it tended to stray off into dark thoughts.

Maybe Poe was gone.

Maybe he would never come to find you here, your little family would be memories of Poe as you raised his little girl with Kes instead. The weight of that responsibility, of ensuring she had a happy life all while missing a whole section of your heart for the rest of your own was heavy so you tried not to overthink it.

You channelled that energy into Charlie, focused on her and you think you were doing a good job of keeping her safe and content. You showed Charlie pictures of Poe every day, wanting to ensure she knew his face even if she would never get to see it in person. She’d been looking at him since she was just a little bean, and you repeated his name, ‘dada’, every time as well. She wasn’t speaking yet, but it couldn’t hurt to keep the association in her mind when she was ready to start talking.

Charlie stopped splashing and glanced up at you with wide eyes, her expression familiar. “Hungry, Bug?” You reached out for her and lifted her from the water, carefully standing and wading to the grassy spot you’d set your picnic up.

You dried her off first, then let her crawl on the blanket while you dry your feet before following her to sit. She beelined for you as you untied your tunic, lowering one side and easing your breast out, grateful your nanny droid had provided you with a soothing balm for your aching nipples. Breastfeeding was your favourite way to bond with her, but Stars, it came at a cost.

You settled Charlie against you and watched as she closed her eyes, suckling softly. You adjusted the tunic to protect her from the sun and fell into a quiet state as she fed. It was sometime later that the sound of a large ship captured your attention, breaking you from your meditation.

Charlie was asleep against you, her face still pressed to your breast, and didn’t stir as the ship, far in the distance, flew past. You wondered briefly, a jolt of electricity coursing through you wondering if it was Poe come to find you both. But when the ship flew only further away, you pushed the idea from your mind. It was probably a shipment from the core worlds going to the markets. You made a mental note to plan a trip there for the next day—if there were fresh supplies, you might find a treat or two. Get something nice for Kes, perhaps.

Feeling exhaustion hit, you napped with Charlie there on the river's edge. You had nothing to fear on Sorgan, and in fact, many of the neighbours in your village were around, not too close but enough so that if needed they could come and wake you. You kept Charlie protected from the sun but let it shine on you, the brightness no match for the gentle lull of sleep, the soft trickle of the river.

When you woke an hour later, you felt more rested than you had in some time, pausing as you sat up to stretch the kinks from your body. Charlie was wriggling and you knew she probably needed to be changed. “Time to go home?” You asked her with a grin, and she made a sour little face in response that made you laugh. You loved how expressive she was, how even though she wasn’t talking yet she managed to let you know how she felt.

With practiced movements, you packed up the little picnic, hoisted your bag over one shoulder before lifting her to sit against your hip, and made the short walk home. Kes was sitting outside the yurt when you arrived, reading, though he set the book down at the sound of your footsteps and grinned widely when Charlie cooed for him.

“Did you have a nice time, ladies?”

You smiled, “She sure loves the water, I should start taking her in the river, see how she likes floating,” Kes took her from you carefully—Charlie made a face and you both laughed, “Sorry, Kes, I think she needs to be changed.”

“No worries, you relax for a bit and I’ll deal with diaper duty.”

Nodding gratefully, you set your bag down on the chair Kes had vacated and turned to gaze out at the grassy lawn. It was a simple home, certainly not where you would have planned to raise a baby, but it was peaceful. You start to think about the next steps, how long you would stay on Sorgan before leaving. You would go ahead first, find out if it was safe, and then you wanted to return to Yavin-4. Not for a few years, although you’d like to leave before Charlie got too old and she was too attached to this place.

You stepped away from the front of the yurt to stare out over the fields. First towards the villagers as they came in from working for the day in the waters, ready to put their feet up before making dinner, and then you turned toward the river and watched the water for a while, your arms crossed, listening distantly to Charlie and Kes making each other laugh inside.

When a voice broke through your thoughts a short while later, you started in surprise before spinning, recognition of the honey-warm tone slamming into you.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

“Rey, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you—“

Rey cut Poe off, gripping his arm with a soft smile, “It was Leia, Poe. She found me before we left Ajan Kloss, she put the coordinates in my head, just in case she didn’t make it.”

Poe hugged her quickly, “Still, without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find her here.” He hurried to the ramp, hitting the button to lower it with excitement mounting within him by the second.

“What do you want us to do?” Finn was standing next to Poe as he waited for the ramp to lower onto the grass.

Poe glanced up at his friend, “I have to go alone, can you wait for me here? I’ll come for you—or send for you—if I find them.” He adjusted his jacket as he spoke, nerves slicing his stomach to pieces. He hadn’t felt this close to you in almost a year and a half.

Finn nodded, a small smile on his lips, “We’ll wait. She has to be here, Poe, you’ll find her.” He clapped Poe on the shoulder encouragingly and he swallowed, unable to form a response so he just returned a half-smile and then clambered down the ramp.

Sorgan was a quiet, sleepy planet full of green. If you were here, the idea that you spent all this time in such a place was comforting to Poe—you would have been able to enjoy the land, be outside, not cooped up somewhere.

He was in a small village, and the market that lined the street was bustling with after-work crowds that were in the tens, the people all smiling at one another in a way that revealed how kind of a place it was. He wandered for a few minutes until he spotted a stand that carried medical supplies and approached the vendor, a friendly-looking older woman who grinned at him.

“Hello, stranger. How can I help you?”

Poe held up the photo he had of you, one he’d taken not long after finding out you were pregnant, your hand on your small belly and a big smile on your face. “Have you seen this woman, ma’am?”

“That’s Mrs. Carstairs,” She responded with a small nod. Poe felt his insides inflate, his excitement now ready to burst forth in a shout of glee that he had to bite back. He took a steadying breath, realizing that you had used your mother’s maiden name as your cover.

He grinned, “Yes, (y/n)—“

The woman cut him off, her eyes widening, “Oh now, you must be the husband. Now that I look at you, the baby has your eyes.”

Poe’s stomach turned over at this information. The baby had his eyes? “That’s me, do you know where I can find her, please?” He made to pull out some credits to pass over to the woman for her trouble, only she reached over to take his hand gently and shook her head, smiling.

“No need for that, dear,” She jerked her head in the direction of a nearby road that split off from the village, “Just follow that, about twenty minutes you’ll come across a fishing village. She lives right off that road on the outskirts of the village.”

Saying his thanks quickly, Poe ran faster than he had in his life in the direction she had indicated.

When he finally saw the little yurt along the main road, he breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was lowering in the sky and casting a golden glow over the ponds, fields and the nearby river. It was beautiful, and as he passed the fishing village he smiled at the villagers, who gave him curious looks before returning friendly smiles. He slowed to catch his breath, his eyes moving back to the yurt, now much closer. And then his gaze snapped to a figure standing not far from the door, gazing out in the direction of the river.

It was you.

His heart about ripped out of his chest at the sight of you alive and well. The closer he got he could see how you’d barely changed—your skin had seen more sunlight, your hair was longer, and he could see the soft curves of your figure that motherhood had brought on. He watched you for a moment, standing a few feet back, and he could hear his dad inside the yurt making a baby laugh.

Making his baby laugh.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

You spun around so fast you were a blur, though Poe didn’t miss the way your hand twitched toward the blaster at your hip before your eyes landed on him. Seeing this only made him grin more broadly, but nerves for the reunion kept him rooted to the spot. What if you were angry with him? The thought hadn’t occurred to him before this, but perhaps you-

“POE!” You cried out, and then you were running forward and jumping into his arms and it was everything he’d dreamed of and more. He caught you and held you close as you both fell to your knees in the grass, and Poe let himself get lost in the moment, sobs pulling from deep within.

He hugged you as tight as he could and then started to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my sweet girl, I missed you. Stars above, I missed you,” He murmured, his eyes closing as your fingers sunk into his curls and tugged him, your lips crashing to his in a desperate kiss that felt exactly like coming home.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to find us,” You whimpered after pulling back, your body still pressed against his, “I can’t believe you’re finally here...”

Poe shook his head, “Leia had a backup plan all along. Stars, you are so beautiful,” He swept his fingers over your cheeks, getting a good look at you now and seeing how well cared for you looked; Sorgan had been good to you. “I’m here now. It’s over, we’re safe now.”

You released your hold on his head to run your hands over your face, wiping at your tears, “Poe, the baby’s just inside, I—”

Poe and you both turned your heads at the same time at the sound of Kes coming out the door, his excited shout of glee making you both grin wider. He was holding the baby in his arms, and they looked around at the sound of your laugh, eyes just like Poe’s wide and curious—what a beautiful sight.

For a beat, the baby just stared at him, and then as Kes moved closer, a smile—a little smirk just like yours—appeared.

“Dada!”

Kes froze and glanced down at the baby in surprise, and Poe heard you gasp, one of your hands landing on his arm and squeezing excitedly. “That’s right Charlie, sweet girl, this is your Dada!”

Poe couldn’t stop staring at the baby, who hadn’t looked away from him either even as you spoke to her. She made grabby hands then, reaching for him and he tentatively raised his hands. His dad closed the gap between them and lowered the baby and he took hold of her cautiously, words caught in his throat and his heart beating fast.

She was a solid thing, sturdy in his arms and cooing happily as she gazed up in wonder at Poe. She was stunning, her eyes honey-brown and lined with thick, long lashes just like yours. Her skin was soft, and she was chunky, her baby rolls making him smile wider. After a minute, she spoke again, “Dada!” She raised her little fists towards his scruffy jaw before glancing at you.

Poe followed her gaze, “How does she know me?” He breathed, his heart in his throat.

Your watery smile only grew, “Showed her your picture every day. Wanted her to know her daddy, even if he...he couldn’t be with us,” You shuffled closer, one arm securing itself around Charlie and grasping Kes’ arm. “That was her first word, Poe. She said it just for you.”

Tears stinging at his eyes, Poe sat huddled with his family, clutching the baby closer with one arm, the other around your shoulders. His dad had thrown his arms around both you and Poe and was lamenting about how good it was to see him while Charlie cooed happily in his arms.

The moment was better than he’d ever dreamed.

Poe couldn’t put Charlie down. He carried her around for the rest of the evening, following you into the comfortable yurt you had called home all this time, one hand always on you, keeping you close.

Dad was making dinner and Poe enjoyed the banter you had, the routine of living together clearly having established itself long ago. He felt a jolt of gratitude for his dad dropping everything on Yavin-4 to take care of you and Charlie all this time.

He ate with one hand, relinquishing his hold on you but tugging you into his side before eating, his eyes constantly drinking in every expression on the baby’s face. He hadn’t realized how in love he would be so instantly, and certainly had not expected Charlie to adore him just as much—he’d thought the baby would be shy around him, maybe cry when he held them. But you had ensured she knew his face, his name—just another thing you did for him.

Poe was never going to be able to thank you enough for everything you had done.

“Poe?” Your soft voice broke into his thoughts and he looked around at you. You gave him a tentative sort of look, “Where is BB8?”

His shoulders relaxed automatically, “Oh he’s on the ship I came here in...with my friends,” He grinned and you copied him, your eyes curious, “I’ll go get them tomorrow and you can meet...I have so much to tell you, sweetheart.”

Your expression softened, “We have all the time in the world now.” You reached up and stroked his jaw, the motion so familiar his eyes automatically closed and emotion swelled in his chest. Before he could reply, he felt a second, much smaller hand land on his jaw and begin to copy the movement.

He smiled, looking through his lashes to see Charlie watching you intently as she imitated you, “Clever baby,” He murmured, and Charlie lit up at the sound of his voice. He turned his head and kissed her little hand affectionately.

“She gets her brains from me,” Kes piped up, tossing a wink at you before collecting everyone’s plates. He set them in the large stone sink before glancing at his watch. “You want to put her down for the night in my room?”

As you nodded, your eyes falling from Kes to Charlie, Poe felt a flush begin to creep up his neck at the idea of being alone with you again after so much time. He wanted to hold you close with nothing separating your bodies and curl into your healing warmth. Your hand reached for his, pulling him from his thoughts, and you tipped your head toward the baby in his arms, whose eyes were blinking slowly as exhaustion set in.

“Time for bed, little Bug,” You murmured, leading Poe towards your room. The curtain across the doorway sat open, fluttering slightly in the cool evening air, and the room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight outside and some of the filtering light from the lamps in the main room of the yurt.

Poe carried Charlie to her crib, pressing his lips gently to her forehead, “Goodnight, Charlie, I love you.” He whispered, smiling to himself when she replied with a sleepy little coo. You took her from Poe then and took a moment to show him how to put the baby down for the night.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched you soothe Charlie, your fingers brushing delicately over her cheeks until her fluttering lashes settled and a small snore confirmed she was asleep. Poe hadn’t felt so much love in such a long time, he was half convinced he wouldn’t survive all of it thrumming through him now. And Stars, he was fucking proud of you, of how good of a mother you were; you’d done an amazing job raising Charlie so far, and he briefly worried about how he would ever be able to compare to you; if he could be as good of a parent as you were.

Once you had Charlie tucked in, you pushed the crib silently into Kes’ room, then wandered over to an armchair and picked up a blanket. When you turned to look up at Poe, his breath caught at the expression on your face. “Come with me, flyboy.”

Gulping, Poe followed you outside and across the grassy lawn in silence. You led him straight to a secluded spot along the riverbank, the flow of the water the only sound he could hear aside from his heartbeat. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he suddenly felt nervous, alone with you for the first time in over a year—he’d faced down death countless times since, and yet it was this moment that was giving him pause.

He watched as you carefully spread the blanket out on the cool grass, then slipped off your shoes before stepping towards Poe with a soft smile. “Come here,” You whispered, and he closed the gap between you both eagerly. Kicking off his shoes before pulling you against him in a crushing hug, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar scent deeply.

He couldn’t have said who started to cry first, just that the moment he had you tight in his arms, you were both taking shuddering breaths. He let himself sob in a mixture of joy and sadness for everything, one hand cradling your head against his chest as you sniffled. “Sweet girl,” Poe drew back to look down at you after a few minutes, “Maker, I missed you. Every day was...shit, just complete shit without you.” He admitted, eyes closing automatically when you reached up to brush the tears from his face.

“I missed you too, but you’re here now, Poe. You’re here and you’re safe,” You whispered, leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to the end of his nose, “You’re safe, baby.”

He kissed you then; harsher than he’d intended, but you met him with equal intensity, your hands sliding into his hair to draw him closer, teeth clashing. The need then, to be with you, became overwhelming—he pushed your pants down frantically, then undid the tie of your wrap tunic and slid it off your shoulders, grunting when he realized you wore no chest band beneath.

You’d started undressing him, but when your hand passed over his length he brushed his fingers against your pebbled nipples in response and you hissed, body jerking away slightly. Poe’s eyes snapped open and he quickly pulled back from kissing you, “Sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

You tugged at his shirt, smiling softly, and he removed it before glancing down your body, his eyes drinking in every glorious curve, the fullness to your breasts. “Breastfeeding is hard on these,” You replied, gesturing toward your somewhat swollen nipples, “You didn’t hurt me, just need to be careful.”

Poe nodded his understanding, surveying your postpartum body with a new wild hunger he’d never before experienced. You were beautiful, always, but something about seeing your shape with its new fullness, your milk-filled breasts and soft stomach—it made him feral. With a groan, he quickly helped you to lay down on the blanket, careful to avoid your chest as he peppered kisses down your warm body, relishing in every square inch of you. “My beautiful love,” He spread your legs apart, his hand trailing down the slit of your wet heat, “Oh sweet girl, so wet for me. You’re a fucking dream.”

As much as he wanted to taste you, lick you until you couldn’t see, the need to be inside of you was too great to allow for any more time apart. Propping himself on one arm, Poe gripped your thigh, lifting it from the ground, and gently rocked his hips forward, groaning as you tightly gripped around his cock, your body needing his just as much.

“Oh fuck, Poe...”

“I know—I’ve got you,” Poe whispered, settling between your thighs, he dropped your leg and lowered his body fully over yours, careful to keep his weight on his arm. He captured your lips against his as he slowly dragged his cock back, then rutted forward, building a slow pace meant to draw out the feeling of bliss for as long as possible. “Missed you—dreamt of you every night, baby, every fucking night.”

You had one hand tangled in Poe’s curls, the other pressed into his lower back and your legs wrapped around his hips. You whimpered, “N-never leaving you again,” The words came out strained, thick with emotion even as you moaned at the feel of him moving within you, “It’s you a-and me, f-forever. Forever.” Your back arched slightly, and Poe groaned at the change in angle, your walls clamping around him harder.

“Fuck,” He felt himself getting close and quickly slid his free hand between his body and yours, slamming into you as he circled your clit tenderly. “Forever, sweet girl, I promise—cum for me, let me feel you—“

“Poe—“ You whined, your eyes fluttering as your pleasure spiked, and he felt your body go rigid beneath him as his hips stuttered—he came with you, spilling himself with a groan as you trembled and moaned, then pressing himself as deep as he could while you both came tumbling back to each other.

When Poe finally collapsed next to you, he slipped out of you carefully before tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you both caught your breath. “Still...still got it, flyboy.” You joked, giggling when Poe shifted to look down at you with a smirk.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

“Ah well, it’s busy work running around after a baby, you know. Keeps you fit.” You grinned, snuggling against Poe as the cool night air seemed to seep between you. He reached above his head, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over your upper body to protect you from getting too cold.

Once he was satisfied you were comfortable, he rolled so that he was looking down at you, your head resting on his forearm. “Sweet girl, you—I mean, Charlie is perfect. You kept her safe, raised her, taught her who I was...I can never thank you enough, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Oh Poe,” You smiled, your eyes glistening as you gazed up at him with a fondness that he felt almost undeserving of, a hand cupping his cheek. “You came back to us, that’s all I could have ever asked for—you’re alive and you’re here.” You choked up, then, and Poe leaned down to press his forehead to yours, cupping your cheek softly with one hand.

You lay together for a short while; until the cold became too much. Curling up together in bed sounded almost too good to be true. “Come on, sweet girl, let’s get some sleep,” He gathered you in his arms, pausing as you grabbed at the clothing he wasn’t going to bother putting on, and carried you into the yurt, the blanket abandoned in the grass outside.

When Poe had his body pressed against yours under the comforter of the bed you’d slept in alone all this time, he kept his arms securely around you and felt peace wash over him, “Going to introduce you to some pretty special friends in the morning, and then we can plan our next steps, my love.”

With a happy little sigh, you tucked your head into his neck and fell asleep promptly, your light snores lulling him until, just at the precipice of sleep, he smiled to himself—he was home.

The first thing you noticed when you woke early the next morning was the bed next to you was empty. Your hands roamed for Poe and when you didn’t find him you sat up quickly, wondering if perhaps you had dreamt of the day prior, of him coming home...

Only, a little giggle from outside your room sounded and you heard Poe proudly declare, “Clever, just like your mama, Charlie girl.”

You hadn’t ever known happiness like this, truly. Your heart was full and repaired and you couldn’t believe how after so much time, so many years of mistakes and pain, you were married to your best friend and he was currently waiting for you to wake up while caring for your baby, the little girl who shared traits of the both of you. This felt like a dream, but it was so raw it couldn’t be anything other than real.

You sprang from bed, throwing on your robe and hurrying out to see Poe holding Charlie as he sat in the armchair, bouncing her on his knee as she giggled for him. When you paused to watch, a smile stretching over your face, he glanced up at you and his own broadened, eyes shining brightly with affection.

“Morning, mama,” His thick morning voice always sent heat through you, and the fact that he was sitting shirtless, his hard muscles flexing as he moved Charlie only doused further fuel on the fire within. He seemed to read that in your expression, his soft eyes darkening somewhat before he sent you a wink that said there’d be time for that again later.

Charlie had looked around to follow Poe’s gaze and she cooed loudly when she saw you, her hands raised towards you. You frowned, “Oh, now you want mama time? Could it be that you’re hungry?” Charlie made grabby hands as Poe laughed and you pulled her from his arms before settling into the chair next to him, easing your robe open enough for her to have access to your chest.

Settling her in for her meals was second nature to you; you knew the way she preferred to lay, how to hold her just right, that she liked to feed quietly in the mornings but at night you were allowed to rub her back and speak soothing words to her. As she began to suckle, you carefully adjusted your breast to make the angle more comfortable, then glanced up remembering that Poe was watching.

The expression on his face was stunning—he was watching you rapturously, as though the sight before him was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. You saw emotion mixed in with the awe and the adoration, and you knew he was feeling grateful he hadn’t missed something as pure as this entirely, that Charlie hadn’t grown too much.

You leaned your head back to rest and smiled at Poe warmly, “She’s on partial foods now, you can feed her yourself a little later, if you want.” You whispered, and his face brightened even more. You felt a bit like those first days after you’d joined him and your brother on D’Qar, the giddy joy of reuniting making the smiles stretch for days.

“I’d love that,” He shuffled his chair closer, resting one hand behind where you were holding Charlie, the other raising to brush over your cheek. “Does it...hurt?”

You shook your head and his look of concern relaxed, “Not really, she’s good about not biting,” Poe cringed at the thought and you giggled, “She’s a good baby. Now, you said you wanted us to meet your friends?”

He nodded, his expression softening sadly, “They’re the reason I was able to make it home to you...I have so much to tell you, but I want you to meet them first.” Poe’s eyes dropped down to watch Charlie again and you let him have a moment, recognizing he had suffered a great deal over the year and a half apart.

You let your eyes wander over his bare torso and noticed now, in the morning light, that he had some new scars, some angrier than the others. The idea of him having been hurt made your stomach sink, and you couldn’t help but lean toward him, capturing his lips against yours when he glanced up. He moaned softly at the tender kiss, petting your hair, and you let yourself sink into the moment, pulling back only when Charlie stirred.

“Where did you leave them?”

Poe gestured toward the main village, “Just outside the village, on our ship. I could go and get them—“

You shook your head, “I think a walk will do us all good. Let’s get dressed, eh Charlie?” You made a face at the baby, who was sleepily peering up at you, happy with her tummy now full, and she smiled at your expression.

Poe insisted on changing Charlie’s diaper and dressing her, so you merely stood by and watched, handing him her daytime outfit and trying not to laugh too hard as he struggled. You could see the joy in his eyes as he attempted to get her arms through the sleeves, his big hands so incredibly gentle as he worked. It took about twice as long as normal, but eventually, Charlie was ready to go and you took her from Poe, strapping her to your chest with a sarong, watching him as he dressed.

You wanted to ask about the new scars. But you were afraid when you did, it would open up the vault he was currently guarding and all of the terrible stories would come tumbling out. Enjoying this peaceful reunion for a little longer wouldn’t hurt anyone, so you resisted the urge and instead popped your head into Kes’s room to let him know where you were going.

“It was hard, not knowing anything,” You admitted quietly as you walked along with Poe, Charlie gazing around happily. The arm draped over your shoulders tightened somewhat at your words. “Leia sure picked a good place for us, though. It’s been quiet, safe.”

You glanced at him, the tension in his jaw confirming something you’d suspected since he’d arrived-after he’d mentioned it was thanks to one of his new friends that he’d been able to find you. Leia was gone, but he didn’t know how to tell you—just as much as you were avoiding asking him for details, he was reluctant to give them.

“Yeah, she knew what she was doing,” He replied softly before his eyes lit up. You followed his gaze and saw a large ship, its ramp lowered, come into view just as a familiar orange and white blur was speeding in your direction.

“Buddy!” You yelled, hurrying forward and dropping to one knee to greet BB8, one arm securing Charlie closer to ensure she didn’t get too jostled from your movements. The droid beeped and whirred excitedly and the baby began to giggle, craning her head to look at BB8. “Charlie, this is BB8, wave hi—“ You laughed as Charlie roughly flopped her chubby arm in the direction of the droid.

You could feel Poe’s hand resting lightly on the crown of your hand, and you looked up at him to speak but before you could, another voice chimed in. “Poe, man, you found them!” A handsome man with enviably smooth skin and a friendly grin was walking towards you with a pretty woman who had sad eyes next to him.

Poe helped you to stand back up, his arm securing around you as he led you forward to meet his friends. “Finn—Rey, meet my better half, (y/n), and my kid, Charlie.”

You saw the pair shoot wide-eyed looks at Poe when he said Charlie’s name, and you realized he must have told them about you, about your brother. The thought warmed your heart even further. You reached out and grasped each of their hands in turn, grinning, “It is really lovely to meet you, thank you for getting Poe back to me and Charlie safely.”

Finn smiled warmly, “Hey, he saved our asses as much as we saved his,” Poe shoved his arm playfully, laughing. Rey was quiet, you noticed, gazing at the baby thoughtfully. You wondered who she had lost.

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked, and Rey met your eyes in surprise, though after a brief pause she smiled nervously and nodded. Her smile lit up her whole face, and you were glad you thought to offer the baby as a way to pull it from her—babies had a way of making the sad a little less daunting.

You lifted Charlie out of the sarong, “Say hi to Auntie Rey, Charlie!” Charlie began to babble incoherently in that cheerful baby talk as she settled against Rey’s hip. She watched her, smiling to herself, before glancing between you and Poe.

“She’s beautiful,” Rey’s hand caught one of Charlie’s, squeezing gently, “Takes after her mama, clearly.” She tacked on, throwing Poe a look that made you laugh out loud.

Finn, you noticed, was watching Rey hold the baby with a quiet expression of adoration that made you smile inwardly. He caught you staring and grinned cheekily. As he began to chide Poe teasingly, a sudden memory came to mind, of the last time you had spoken to your father.

“Just remember, family always comes first—but we can make our own family, sweetie,” Dad squeezed your hand, “Family is what we make it, big or small, blood-related or not. So you make sure to surround yourself with good people, people you love and trust, and you’ll always have a family.”

And as you stood there, gazing at your new friends, the people who had ensured your Poe had come back to you, you realized that you were only adding to your family today. You felt like the luckiest woman in the entire galaxy, your heart was bursting with joy and hope for everything still to come.

Poe pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shot him a smile, knowing he felt it too.

Here, you thought, was where the next chapter of your life began. And you couldn’t be more excited.

A/N—THANK YOU for reading this story, for enjoying this journey with me and loving my characters so much. I’m hopeful you loved this final chapter and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. And of course, we still have the epilogue coming!🤍

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#Night changes series #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fluff #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #rey star wars #finn x poe #poe and bb8 #oscar Isaac

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jjkpls · 3 years

Text

first love (m)

genre : fluff, angst, light smut

pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)

word count : 4.6k

warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader

Seokjin doesn't mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn't. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he's been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.

He can't really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God's sake.

But his father wasn't into it, given his ambitions, his own growing company and all the promising opportunities he envisioned both for him and for his only son. Therefore Seokjin went to law school, graduated with excellent mentions, followed an accelerated program in business development and managing and joined his father exactly where he was expected.

He isn't exactly complaining.

He likes his job, most of the time, likes the money and luxury that come with it especially and appreciates the work safety.

Now, you can't blame him for being quite the drama queen in his everyday life. All that pent up, buried alive passion for the arts of acting need to express, somehow.

That's what he'd say to you when you used to yell at him for starting weeping loudly in your ear when he'd call you to cancel a date last minute because he couldn't come, instead of just, cancelling it, aplogize, get over it like a normal person.

Or when you'd kick him in the ribs because he'd be all wild gestures and screeching screams when he'd teach your son to ride a bike and he would fall, as he should to learn, making the boy cry even when he wasn't hurt, solely from the projection of his dad's fear.

You're not here to tell him yourself but the glazed, annoyed roll of his son's eyes tells him precisely what you would. Those eyes are the worst. The prettiest he's ever seen. The ones he loves the most. The ones you also wear on your own pretty face.

"Since when?" He has a hand pressed to his chest, preventing a heart attack it seems, gaze wide and alarmed. Timothy sighs.

"A while. They were already together for Valentine's Day-" He explains patiently. That kid is sweet. The way he's slumped over, obviously annoyed to have to be the one telling his dad and having to deal with the consequences but still, he's watching over him with a soft eye, mouth torn in a sympathetic pout. He wouldn't mind his parents to get back together even though he is almost sure it wouldn't be a good idea for the both of you. He's heard tales of dysfunctional families, of parents hurting each other and their children and doesn't want that for any of you. He can't imagine it happen. You two are too good for that. That's probably why you had decided to separate in the first place.

Seokjin is quickly making maths in his head. Not really counting the time but situating himself in that time frame. Where was he at when she was out with this guy? What was he doing?

He may have been in Japan when it started. He remembers a call from you, you were asking him to take Timothy for a couple of days. You sounded embarrassed and he didn't know why but couldn't take the time to investigate, he had a flight expecting him and a conference call waiting to start in a couple of minutes. Important stuff. None of it would have mattered if he had known what you were up to.

"You okay, dad?" Timothy asks, awkward but kind. His mom basically.

"Devastated." Seokjin says with the widest grin on his face. He's not devastated. It'd be ridiculous to be for something absolutely predictable, fair and normal. He's not mad, nor disappointed. You deserve to be seeing people, have them desire you and make you feel good. He wishes it were him but if he can't do that, if you won't let him, he's glad you still can allow someone else to do it.

He's surprised though, he can't lie about that.

Honestly. That's stupid. But he didn't expect one second that you were seeing someone. You never mentioned anything and you didn't look like it. If there's a way you look when you're dating.

He remembers rosy cheeks and short skirts. You were younger.

"You think it's serious?" He asks casually, surprising even himself. His heart is in a turmoil but he showed enough to Timothy, acting like he was half dying, gasping for air and all.

"I don't know. She doesn't want to bring him home yet. Like, introduce him to me. I asked." Timothy, not only is he nice, he is smart. He's thirteen, shouldn't know much about Love and adults' matters yet. He's supposed to still be at that stage when one believes children and adults are two very distinctive race of humans, one that depends on the other and the other having it all figured it out, having reached a certain knowledge and expertise on all things and can't really be wrong on accident.

Timothy knows precisely what his dad would love to hear. And he gives it to him. Not to feed him vain hopes. Not even for this tiny hidden greed to have you back together. Simply because it's the truth and if for once the truth is pleasant to hear, then he should give it. Seokjin's smile only gets brighter. He shares a glance with his son, a glint winking his way and Timothy rolls his eyes, unable to hide the lift of the corners of his lips.

"Anyway, I heard you won that science fair at school?" Seokjin has already left his seat on Timothy's bed. He's rummaging through his leather bag and Timothy knows what it means. He has a present for him. Seokjin always has a present for him. Most of the time, he can justify it by some event or some success Timothy had encountered. The thing is they don't see each other that often, therefore, almost systematically, something new has come about and Seokjin can explain why he's brought a brand new console, a new laptop, a TV for his room or that one limited edition of this way too expensive branded pair of sneakers.

You used to get really mad at that. You'd say that he shouldn't, that he didn't need to bring him all these expensive stuff because what he'd like (it was a long time ago when Timothy was too young to have his own opinion and you would speak for him) is for his dad to be here more often. You'd say he wouldn't have to buy him shit for any other times than Christmas and his birthday if only he could be here for him. His dad would be his present.

It caused a lot of drama, a lot of crying. You had made sure not to scream, not to be too angry but Timothy felt from the way you squeezed him hard against your bosom that you were very upset. His dad had apologized, had said the most with his eyes only for you to understand. Timothy was staring, trying to get it too because he was involved, wasn't he? But that was one of those adults moments he wasn't allowed to participate in yet.

From then on, his dad wasn't late anymore when he'd set dates with him, his phone would be turned off when they were together and he would text him more often.

It was really nice. Because at first, Timothy felt that maybe if his dad wasn't so present it was because he didn't want to. For some reasons. He thought maybe he was too much of a coward or too nice possibly, to leave you two altogether, to disappear from your lives and start another one somewhere else, one he would have chosen and shaped as he'd want. Turns out Seokjin really appreciated his son and the time he got to spend with him. The more time they spend together, the more Timothy is met with awed eyes and whistling lips, impressed as his dad is by his smartness, his humour and hidden talents. He just was very busy. You explained that to him. That he was passionate by his work, that it required a sacrificial amount of time in one's life, and that he shouldn't ever take it personally because even he loved you and couldn't give you that time.

It's the conversation that led him to think that maybe his parents are meant to be, except they won't because... circumstances.

In any case, no matter how often they meet now, Seokjin still brings him gifts each and every time. The difference is that he has to think of a reason, sometimes make one up to not be struck down by your fury.

"Yes, I did."

"Of course, you did! Cause my son is the smartest." Timothy waits for the moment he says that his brain and the magic fuel filling it all come from him. It doesn't come. Instead, a neat white box is held in front of his face. There's a pretty tie made of ribbons glued in the middle, to hide the picture of what's inside, but there's no doubt that this is an iPhone. He rips the tie off and surprise surprise it's the iPhone 12.

"Mom is going to kill you." Timothy says first, before even thanking him, heart pounding from excitement and face split in two by the wide banana grin.

"Probably." He shrugs, unapologetic.

"Thanks, dad!" Timothy doesn't forget to add, eyes shiny and toothy grin even shinier.

He hopes so. That you're going to be mad. You two are too old to have petty fights now. You don't waste your energy in screaming and finding the worst things to say to hurt his feelings. You just cross your arms under your tits, clench your jaws and adopt that pout on your mouth, eyelids low and eyebrows high, the embodiment of condescendence and you look sexy as hell. He smiles and winks at you, calls you by an old pet name and you're swooning even though you try to hide it. No one is charming like he is, and no one charms you as he does therefore he's not too worried.

His son was just going around with this prehistorical device you dared to call a smartphone. With the broken screen, and the non-functioning selfie cam and the safari app needing a good ten minutes to charge one fucking page -this was deliberate as you wanted him to have a phone to call and text you and not go and lose himself on the internet or whatever. He's almost fourteen though and he's doing a great job at school and is such a good kid at home, he deserves it.

"I know and I don't care. I don't need you to tell me my son is good." You are infuriated. The perfect picture of you he had imagined, the only difference is that, you've just walked out of work, you seem to have had a rough day and your hair is a mess. With the wild locks hanging off of your bun, framing your pretty face, you look even better. "I don't want him to have something so expensive on him, first of all."

"His dad is richer than Cresus, what do you expect?" The cockiness dripping from every pore should suffice to make you explode. Of course, it doesn't. He has that stupid side grin. The one he's got you with in the first place.

"And what about- internet and even just the darn AppStore? He's too young to-"

"Are you worried about porn?" He frowns, you flush. That's precisely one of the things you think about. You don't want him to fall upon stuff he doesn't need to see -in your opinion for a good ten years at least- or start taking interest in social medias where creepy fuckers could hang out.

You flush because apparently, it's a word complicated still to hear from him. "I've made a parental software installed in it. And a localisation too. Not that we really need it with him but you know."

"Oh." All tension escapes from your torn face and tensed shoulders.

"Oh, wow, my first love is such a good dad." He mocks, voice high, hardly resembling yours, barely biting back a smirk. He even goes as far as swiping the right side of his bangs back, eyes closed, mannerism insufferable.

"Shut up." More flush. A fist to his chest for punishment. Bad idea. Apparently, he went back to the gym.

"You should be nicer because I have something for you too." He says, eyes glancing mischievously as his hand dips in the pocket of his trench coat. "Well. I don't want it." You cross your arms on your chest again which only serves to push your tits forward to him and he wonders what you're playing at. Probably the same game he plays when he winks and smiles and lifts his eyebrow to you.

"Wait 'til you see it." He sees the moment you realize it's a jewellery box. He reads the instant wild excitement, he catches also the gloomy shadow you try to paint over it because you don't want to accept it. How many times does he need to be told to stop? He won't ever stop.

"You can't buy me, Seokjin." You're eyeing the velour box in his hand, a tiny beautiful red in this large pearly white palm. You want it. You always do. You don't dare uncross your arms though because you know that if you even do something as reckless as taking it in your hand, just to have a look at it, you won't be able to refuse it.

"Of course, I can." More of that smirk. You glare, it makes him wheeze as he does.

You have never ever been able to refuse any of his shiny presents. You're not a gold digger, that's precisely why you felt so guilty all the time, accepting to receive from him things you could never afford for him -or yourself. He's born richer than you'll ever be, he loves to spend it on his loved ones -and on cars and designer clothes- and amongst everything else he loves, he adores covering you in shiny little rocks.

No one has ever worn diamonds the way you do. You look beautiful without them, magnificent with them. They were made to enhance your beauty and you were made to give them sense.

"You're such a dick." You say, tone way too monotonous to still have been in total control of your free will. Your eyes are glued to the shine of the two dainty clear earrings nested in the case. He's holding it open in front of your nose, like a hypnotizing stick. He sees your determination wavers. Your arms have just untied. Your hand is getting close. He smiles already savouring his victory.

"Take them, petal, I don't think your new boy could ever afford them." Your hand freezes mid-track, face falling you look up. He's a bit surprised to see guilt in those eyes. Shame and guilt. Even though, you have the right to see whoever you want. Obviously.

"How-" His head tilts slightly towards the hallway, where the bedrooms and the one Timothy is in, probably playing with his new phone. "Great. Bribing our son into giving you off my personal information."

"I gave him the iPhone after he told me." Seokjin feels the need to precise. His son loves him and he confided for this very reason. He wants to believe. He hopes that it's not because he's worried his dad would have a mental breakdown if he were to learn the news the day his mom would invite him to their wedding or something.

You sigh. You don't know what to say it seems. He doesn't want you to feel upset. He's not going to congratulate you either. He can't.

"Take them."

"He could- he's a doctor, you know." You sound like a petty little girl saying that, fingers aiming for the box but mouth reshaped by contempt.

Thankfully, the mesmerizing glee on your lovely face makes up for this last information.

A doctor.

He snorts, huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Are you really being disdainful over the noblest of all professions?"

"I bet he's not as handsome as I am." Seokjin says, staring away into space in a very Vogue kind of pose.

"And it's relevant because your face saves lives too, right?" You add to his clownery, biting on the smile wanting to take over your face.

"Precisely." You're already putting them on, watching your fingers work in the reflection on the microwave door. He's loving it. One is on, reflecting the light coming from the window, bringing a new sense to your whole stance. You don't look tired anymore. You look very fancy. Sexier than before. Your butt sways a little in excitement when you take a new look at yourself, now beautifully decorated and he's reminded of an idea he once had but never got to realize.

He wanted to have a fashion designer make a garter holder made of tiny diamonds. Solely diamonds. It would fit you just right, maybe a bit tight on you, would dig slightly in the meat of your thighs, enough to look fucking sinful and not too much so it doesn't hurt. He was quite young when he had the idea first and was probably not rich enough to make it happen.

He now owns a few palaces perched on the last stage of skyscrapers in three of the most expensive cities in the world and he would sell one in a beat if it meant he could get that for you and see you wear it for him.

You'd probably end up accepting it and then wear it for your new boy so that's out the question.

He doesn't hesitate when he reaches a hand forward, slip his fingers through the tie holding your hair in a bun and slide it off. You don't even flinch, he's still allowed to do that.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." You whisper with a smile, both for the compliment and for the present.

"You went to the hair salon." You nod, forcing yourself not to show your surprise. He doesn't need it to throw himself some flowers, "See? I noticed." He adds with way too much pride for so little.

"Your lenses work, congratulations." Sarcasm is the only answer to his stupidity, you both have figured this out long ago. "Is he nice?" Seokjin can't help but ask. He doesn't want to know too much about him. Kind of hopes that it won't be necessary as the guy won't last too long. But he can't resist his curiosity.

"Yes." You say without much of a hesitation. "Last week, he took me to this nice French restaurant in Songpa." You tell, eyes looking away, a bit pensive, mindlessly playing with one strand of your hair. Your face is taken over by that air. Seokjin realizes then that you really like him.

"I used to take you to very nice restaurants all the time, remember?" He's just messing around now. He knows it's not that relevant. Knows it won't get him higher in your regard,

"And I would spend half the date with the waiter while you'll have yours with your phone. I do remember." Especially given you don't recall your common past the same.

He does remember now that you mention it. His memory has been awfully selective and mainly, what he could picture when he thought about those times, is how beautiful you looked, how much he wanted you and felt like even sitting right next to you, he couldn't satisfy that need, was missing you even if you were right there, and the mind-blowing sex too. The later probably happening because he owed to make it up to you because indeed, his job was on the dates too and you hated that. He remembers the late mornings, the lazy ones, you'd make him carry you on his back because your legs and your hips hurt too badly.

"Ouch!" Toppling over, hand on his bosom where it actually really hurts, he yelps in agony, pretending to have been shot. You giggle and slap his shoulder, pester him to stop when you both hear Timothy ask from his room if everything's okay. You'd think he would know by now that his dad is just a clown whose shenanigans shouldn't be taken seriously.

"Are you seeing someone these days?" What a shame, Seokjin really thought for once he'd be solely cool and collected and handsome. Instead, he can feel his ears start to burn in embarrassment, walks a few steps back, pretending to want to throw a glance through the window when really, he'd do anything to not have see you notice.

"Someone?" He huffs. "Some three, actually some four or five. You know how the ladies get with me-" He sounds dumb as hell. It suffices to make you laugh. You've always laughed at his antics. Even when you were going through complicated times, like the pregnancy and the soon to follow break up, he'd try to dry your cheeks and lighten your gaze, heartbroken as he was to see you like that, and it would always work.

"And I know how bad you are with maths." He nods, doesn't look at you, simply stares at the shiny tip of his italian shoes. "You should call me sometimes, Jin." You don't need to tell him, he knows. You say that to him almost every single time. It's just you being kindhearted, the way you've always been. But first, he hates the idea that somehow, to some degree, it's a pity hand you're holding out for him. And secondly, he knows he'll fuck up if he calls.

He won't be able to talk about his job or politics or what's on the dumb tv these days. He'd probably start by asking what you're wearing and end it all by serenading you. What a bad idea. "You don't ever call, only Tim. Which is fine but-" He is lonely, he does miss you, but he's not that stupid. "I miss you too, you know." You look awfully sincere when you say this. There's still a sad shade to your eyes and he suspects it comes from you worrying about him rather than you simply wanting him more in your life. Maybe it's there for both reasons. He can't be mad at you for caring about him still, can he? Ultimately, it's sweet. It's not your fault he tends to be a loser in his very personal life.

He wouldn't know who he is trying to comfort when he strides forward and place a kiss on your cheek. The other one he's cradling in his palm feels warmer the longer he touches it. He doesn't let it go once he backs up and away. You're looking up to him with your eyes looking all round and childish. Quiet and in expectancy. You look like you do when you would wait for him to kiss you. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he smirks.

"Expecting me to kiss you?" He asks with an eyebrow raised high. Pretend judgment in his tone, even remonstrance. As if. "How scandalous, when you already have a boyfriend." You know he's just kidding and he can tell that. He wouldn't play with that if he wasn't sure. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you feel wrong or bad in any way. He loves you too much for that. You could let him kiss you and he wouldn't hold you accountable for it. Therefore he does. Because he's dying to since the last time it happened a couple of weeks back. And when your own lips welcome his, with that much willing and tenderness, he suspects you've had too.

He doesn't allow it to go too far. He thought you would stop him, at some point, but you don't. He's the one pulling away when his tongue, instinctively, means to reach out for your own. He knows what comes after that, and what comes after that and after and after. And even if you transpire guilt and shame, he can sense in the way your eyes stare into his that you would have let it all happen.

He's not lacking in desire, he hopes you know that. Honestly, since earlier, and that random flash of the diamond garter holder, his brain is half clouded by the thought of your thighs and his face buried in between them. You used to make the most delicious sounds, pulling at the root of his hair and chasing your high with your hips. Also now that he's met your mouth again and he envisioned what could happen if he just let go, he can't help but think about that dresser in your room. The gigantic thing you wanted him and Timothy to put together as sort of a father and son enterprise to bound or whatever - he ended up paying a guy to do it for them and they played Mario Kart instead but you don't need to know that. Point of the matter is, that massive dresser has a massive mirror on its door and that massive mirror sits perfectly in front of your bed. And all he can think about is how bad he'd like to fuck you on your bed while you'd watch yourself in it. He'd pull back your hair, hold in tight in his fist like he knows you love so you could see your own cute face while his cock would reshape your cunt to its fitting, all this with the pretty little shiny earrings adorning your ears.

Fuck, what a concept.

And it is to say that right now, he knows, you'd let him. He's not that wicked though. He feels your too weak to resist him today therefore he's not even going to chance it. He doesn't want you to do something you'd hate yourself for afterwards.

"I should go, I still have documents to send for a new contract before-" He takes a look at the expensive watch heavy on his wrist, you roll your eyes. "Half an hour ago, great." He offers you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries before he's off to the hallway, giving you his broad back. "I'm going to say bye to Tim."

"It's just- like that, Seokjin." The words are pretty badly chosen. They don't mean much. Seokjin still gets it though. He can picture you behind him, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head to the side. It doesn't mean much.

"I know, petal. Don't worry." He throws over his shoulder, faux lightness in his tone even though his heart feels raw. It doesn't mean enough, is more accurate. This kiss like every single one of your shared looks and words and bickering and touches, they all mean that you still fit perfectly good together. However, it's not enough because somehow, someday, you came to the conclusion that you were not meant to be. He's confused as to why and how he agreed with you then. Here's the main reason why he never calls you.

When Timothy looks up from his new phone, wearing your eyes and his smile, he feels a whole new range of pain affected to his sensitized heart. How can you not see that you're meant to be?

A/N: Happy Lunar New Year :) this little thingy was inspired by Arsène Lupin and the relationship between Assane and Claire for those who watched it! I don’t know if i translated well the alchimy and unfightable attraction and connection they still have even after having seperated. ANYWAY, hope you all are doing fine, hope you liked this, LET ME KNOW what you thought, tell me about your day, your resolutions if you have any, what’s the weather like where you at etc lmao xoxo

PS: stay tuned for a new upcoming series i’m quite excited about ~~

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #ksmutclub #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #bts scenario #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin scenario

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songandashadow · 3 years

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august fic rec

so this list is a whole mess because I haven’t made one in so long and in the time since I last did, I discovered a whole bunch of new fics and authors that I can’t even begin to put in one rec. Instead here’s a small part of the massive amount of fics I read recently. Please give these authors kudos, comment and enjoy. :)

❀ This Could Be Something by 28sunflowers | 6k words

After a hookup gone wrong, Harry keeps getting sick at random times without reason. That is, until Louis shows up at his door with a wild explanation.

Sometimes, "happily ever after"s come in the strangest forms.

❀ (Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites | 86k words

a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

❀ Love You a Latte by 1Diamondinthesun | 15k words

Louis Tomlinson doesn’t drink coffee and definitely doesn’t go to Starbucks. Enter barista Harry Styles. Add a double shot of espresso, stir in 90s references to taste, and top with whipped cream and love.

Or, the coffee shop AU featuring girl direction, creative espresso, and a professor and a barista falling in love in one beautiful autumn.

❀ Please Be Naked by Only_angel_28 | 17k words

Louis starts squirming, desperately needing something to do with his hands. Needing to do anything, really, to distract him from the perfect male specimen standing naked in front of him. In the end, the only thing he can do is strip out of his own jeans and briefs, which he does with trembling, clumsy fingers, his heart beating out a violent, chaotic rhythm in his chest the entire time.

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath, and slowly raises his eyes from where he was staring at his own bare feet to meet his gaze.

“So,” Harry says bashfully, his voice gone even deeper somehow. “We’re naked.”

“Yup,” Louis squeaks.

“You okay?”

No!

“Yup,” Louis repeats, sounding just as unstable as he did the first time.

This is the last favor Louis Tomlinson is ever doing for Zayn Malik. (Because, after today, he’ll be dead, but that’s neither here nor there.)

❀ The Sleeping Giant by LadyLondonderry | 3k words

In the centre of the pond, there is a sleeping giant.

He rises out of the water, eyes closed and face at peace, sitting as if in a trance. Moss grows up his back, tangles in his hair. He is at peace here, or perhaps he is peace. Perhaps he is what keeps the pond and the clearing so quiet and serene, blessing the forest with his presence.

❀ I Heard You Talking by lululawrence | 10k words

It had been an hour of their noise that Louis had been dealing with, and for some reason the fact that these grown men were being this rowdy in the quiet carriage over a game of Uno was the breaking point for him. He stood up and turned around, making his way down to where the group of five were somehow gathered around a table.

Louis stopped at the table and cleared his throat, mouth open and ready to politely request they keep it down when the man who was sitting with his back to Louis turned.

He was stunningly gorgeous.

Blinking a ridiculous number of times in an attempt to pull himself together, Louis coughed and spit out, “This is the quiet carriage.”

God, he was nearly forty and that was the best he could do in front of a set of pretty, green eyes?

Or the one where Harry is famous and Louis doesn't have a clue. Good thing his son is able to help him out.

❀ The Lonely Planet Guide to Second Chances by 1Diamondinthesun | 102k words

When Harry and Louis broke up, the last thing on Harry's mind was the non-refundable surprise trip he had booked for them across Europe. Harry was supposed to be moving on, not sightseeing with his ex. In hindsight, touring the continent with Louis was probably a bad idea. So naturally, that's exactly what Harry did.

Or, the breakup travel fic featuring romantic sunsets, awkward bed sharing, and second chances against a backdrop of some of Europe's most iconic cities.

❀ got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove | 124k words

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

❀ bright eyes, blue denim by 4ureyesonly28 | 2k words

Louis' favourite jeans have suddenly disappeared from where he always got them. Harry is a store manager with an affinity for customer care, particularly when the customer has bright blue eyes and happens to be very flirty.

❀ Take Your Time by Layne Faire (HisDarlin) | 11k words

When Harry finds himself in the middle of a messy break-up with no place to live, Louis offers a spare room in his flat. Unbeknownst to Harry, Louis has been infatuated for years. Over the objections of their friends, who know the truth, Harry accepts. Can Louis survive Harry moving into his home…and closer to his heart? Will Harry see what's right in front of him?

❀ I'm Tripping Over Your Every Single Move by lookingfortherainbow | 5k words

“I could pretend to drown,” Harry gasped, looking like he was in awe of his own genius. “Oh my god, what a story to tell our kids. He’d be my reason for almost dying, my reason for staying alive. By the way, have you been working out more lately?”

Liam stared in utter disbelief at his friend’s wild imagination, vaguely noting that Harry was now petting at his bicep in a daze, no longer holding it in a death grip. Sometimes, he wondered why Harry wasn’t at least minoring in theatre.

“Harry, babe. You’re here on a scholarship. For swimming. You’ve literally won multiple events in this very pool. Because you’re so good at swimming. You come here almost everyday to train, which I don’t think has escaped any of the lifeguards who work here. I don’t think that’s as good a plan as you think it is,” Liam said, eyebrows turned up with concern.

Or, Harry is the local swimming star athlete and Louis is the lifeguard that turns Harry into a fish out of water.

❀ the pinker, the bluer by docklands | 1k words

Harry comes out as a trans guy during the pandemic. Working from home and away from everyone, he finds liberty to explore his self-identity. One night, however, he decides to go out.

❀ Lovin' It Up by letsjustsee | 6k words

What did Niall know? This had nothing to do with the few times (okay, countless times) Louis had pined over the idea of Hot Neighbor while drinking. Nothing at all. So what if he had perfect lips and long legs and the cutest little curls around his ears? Certainly not Louis.

He continued to scribble away, most of his words indiscernible except for one written in large letters at the very top of the napkin: REVENGE

Or, a neighbors AU in which Louis vows to get revenge on the guy who didn't hold the elevator for him - no matter how ridiculously attractive he may be.

❀ My Strange Addiction by phdmama | I'm Hot for Teacher verse

The guy at the other end of the bar has been checking Harry out all night.

❀ take the time for you by pixies | 1k words

Dating hasn’t really been very easy for him, lately, not ever since he moved to London earlier in the year for his job. He’d had terrible luck with online dating and was too dedicated to his current projects at work to make time to go out to the bars or to try to socialize more than once every few weeks.

aka, Harry ends up at speed-dating to get his friend off his back and has a better night than expected.

#larry fic rec #larry fic #fic rec #larry stylinson #mine #recently read #august 2021 #larry #larry fanfic rec #larry fanfiction

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years

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I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead:

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it.

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before.

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.”

“If I come home.” He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody.

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet.

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected.

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about.

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience.

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye.

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else.

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles.

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs.

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering.

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance.

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples.

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect.

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things.

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy.

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day.

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?”

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?”

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease.

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie.

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes.

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more.

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for.

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall.

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger.

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously.

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue.

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared.

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them.

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes.

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why? What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job? Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with?

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same.

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.”

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?”

He glares, and Shireen clarifies.

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs.

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question.

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits.

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them.

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home.

Instead she asks an even crazier question.

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

#my writing #work in progress #jonsa fic #jonsa dystopian au #kind of inspired by songs of a distant earth #when I get to the new planet #whenever that happens #shireen!

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