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chocolate-teapots · 2 years

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Couples Therapy: Jung Hoseok

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Who knew that couples therapy could get

so personal?

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Warnings: kind of smutty, swearing, mentions of domestic abuse, psychological abuse, unprofessional medical advise, ray of sunshine hoseok, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism, fantasizing.

"Y/N? Your 2 o'clock just walked in."

I threw myself around in my chair almost falling off at my receptionist, collecting myself and my notebook and readjusting myself as I stuttered around. Things were hanging out, hairs were pointing anything but south and I wasn't just talking about the ones on my head.

"Great! Uh, send them right in Joyce."

There was a crash that made her jump and evacuate my office. I was the one who really needed the therapy today that was of course if I could successfully land myself in a relationship first.

I was officially 20 minutes late for work this morning, not even having enough time to shower or be a functioning adult. Luckily my natural stress that would be building up around this time woke my body up like clockwork, meaning I had only missed oh around 3 appointments! I rescheduled the two with shaky hands and nudged one forward to now but that didn't mean that I was any more prepared than I would've been.

I was pretty sure I wasn't even wearing a bra! How unprofessional...If only my professors could see me now- or not that would be weird. Let's hope the room doesn't get cold anytime soon.

A knock made my hands fumble around even more for a pen. I had my notebook, some papers to make a new client file but no god damn pen. I was on my hands and knees, carpet scratching awfully against my nails as I pawed the ground for some ink. Any ink.

"Come in!"

Where the hell did I put the one I literally just had? Literally, a squid would do.

"Hey there, take a seat I won't be a moment,"

Where's that fucking pen?!

"Excuse me Dr?"

I grimaced, sticking my head out above my desk in a blotchy cluster.

"Yes?"

"Your pen- well- it's behind your ear," the handsome man on the sofa points towards my bird's nest and surely enough the pen mocking me tucked on my ear.

Well god damn.

"Thank you. Now enough weirdness for today, I apologise for having to bring forward your appointment uh there was an emergency," I laughed uncomfortably under my breath at my little lie, you fucking low life this is what you've become after years of studying the same shit over and over?

Emergency = too many gins last night.

When I finally got the chance to gather all the loose bits of myself that ran away, I finally noticed the rather odd couple sat on my sofa. If you could call them a couple at all. They were hot sure but there was no chemistry, nothing between them that could pull them together again just dead air and Prada.

It felt like the worst arranged marriage prank ever. She was stunning but very needy and traditional. He was outstandingly handsome, too charming to believe and a free spirit, warm but distant, chill, needed his own space sometimes.

"I'm Dr Y/N I'll be taking your appointments from today and into the foreseeable future after your transfer request from Dr Rosen. I have a bit of paperwork for you but it shouldn't take too long so I want to just jump straight in. What's going on?"

They awkwardly gestured for each other to start like a high school presentation. I smiled warmly as the woman leaned forward slightly wishing the other had the chance to talk just to match a voice or even a name to that face...

"We've been married now for almost a year and things aren't... working out. I need to be loved and feel wanted as a wife should. As... amazing as Hoseok was- is- he's just too calm and like he doesn't care anymore," her pink lips began to spit toward the end of her speech, resenting the qualities of her husband that she never had and almost envying them.

What is going on here?

"And Hoseok? Do you agree that you are unable to fulfil the emotional needs of your wife?"

His tired eyes search for the right words to say, his relaxed position on the sofa reflected his free-spiritedness. He ran his hands through his hair and swallowed, knowing exactly what he was doing. I began to sweat in my already sweaty skirt.

"Well, I-"

"Oh, he agrees all the same! As a woman, I'm sure you understand Dr but my husband he's not trying anymore and I feel alone in my own marriage. Do you understand?" her wicked eyes find sympathy in my own but my heart is screaming at the woman ripping me out from the inside.

I smell something beginning with 'b' and it wasn't beef.

"Well you know Mrs Jung moments where we start to question our partner's character can also be moments of insecurity for us. We're not actually dissatisfied with the attention we're not receiving and we're just in our own heads that's all."

Many times in that appointment I tried to hear his voice if even to know what he sounded like at this point but like a bad translator, his beloved wife jumped in every time, censoring his words like she had something to hide. Her long nails irritably dug into the leather tapping and patting as I scribbled down 'crazy fucking bitch' in my notes. The noise itself made her transfer her impatience to me- the most patient god damn person in this god damn universe alright?

"I think that's enough for today."

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The randomized couple made another appearance later that week this time with the crack on the iced lake that was their marriage getting longer and stronger.

"Great to see you both again! Have you tried revisiting the old memories as I recommended?"

I seemed to have triggered something as she scoffed, scrambling towards the other side of the sofa even though she was already on the fucking edge. He was relaxed but miserable with a few more lines under his dark eyes.

"We tried Dr but Hoseok had to cancel last minute because he had dance practice with his band," she mocked bitterly, sounding double her age but acting like a child.

It was so obvious what was going on here, it was screaming at me.

Knowing he wouldn't contribute I asked: "Hoseok, is your job a reoccurring subject of strain on your relationship?"

His heart-shaped lips suck in a handful of air sharply, finally aching to talk, desperate and I wanted to hear him with open arms. Come on, just a little more-

"Well, I-"

An obnoxiously loud ringtone cut him off and his wife embarrassed answered it without hesitation in the middle of the appointment. I glanced to Hoseok in slight sarcastic disbelief before remembering she's still his wife by choice like it or not. Fuck. I've fucked it all up. He laughs rubbing his forehead with his perfectly structured hands.

"Right now? I mean I'm in an appointment but I can- sure."

His dark, mysterious gaze caught my admiring and he lifted his eyebrows smugly with fascination. Shit. I turned away to the very interesting conversation happening that I was being paid for.

"Okay, I gotta go. See you soon," she hangs up with a sigh telling me how she didn't even want to be here in the first place.

"Dr, I'm so sorry but something has come up. I gotta go like right now..." she apologises half sincerely and I show her how sad I am she's leaving... half sincerely.

"Hoseok," she snaps lowly at him as he doesn't get up from the sofa at the same time as she did, as usual, glaring at him to follow like a dog.

He continues to stare at me and it's one of those stares where I know he's staring and I pretend I don't know but he knows I know and he doesn't even care. He shamelessly devours me from that sofa and ignores his wife who he came with to this appointment.

"Actually I need Hoseok's signature for a couple of things. Do you mind if he stays behind? No extra charge," I look up at the woman who looks between us as if it was a tennis match.

I was trying to swat the tension away like it was a pesky fly but I swear I only wanted to see him finally be able to get to the bottom of this without the shrieking wench.

"I can't see that being a problem. I'll see you when I get home," she mutters to her husband who waved her off lazily.

The door shut and he let out a breath I didn't even know he was holding.

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He stretches his neck, every stretch making the buttons of his shirt cling on for dear life.

"Hoseok, if I can I'm gonna be frank here. I apologise."

I swallow, readjusting so many times that it only made my rising skirt worse and everything that wasn't my bare skin more frustrating. Wedgie.

"Go ahead," his long fingers tangle in his hair giving himself a sensual scalp massage on my couch to someone who isn't his wife.

"How long have you known that your wife is emotionally abusive?"

His honest skin loses its glow and he seems to sink into the sofa, losing the extra height that his little flirting game gave him. It was very common for people in unsuccessful relationships to take any opportunity they can to forget so I wasn't taking it too personally but the other voice down there was saying otherwise.

"My friends have known the day I started missing practice and I've known since...our honeymoon."

A year of suffering in silence? His voice was small, he looked small, he accepts it.

He thinks he...deserves it.

"It's easier said than done to just break off something you've been working at for so long but have you thought about separation?"

"Every single day but I'm starting to believe I don't even know what that means," he shakes his head as if ashamed for fantasizing about another life "she always says the right thing to lure me back in again. She's always...there."

I knew she was manipulative and insecure the moment I saw her. My heart ached for the visually pleasing and amazing guy but I knew that it didn't matter how good-looking you were, mental illness and abuse skips no one.

Jung Hoseok was like a really old painting that hadn't been restored but you could see the potential poking through the dust if you really looked.

"Has it ever gotten... physical? Threatening?"

He keeps his focus to his right not intent on answering the question I already had the answer to. The way he calculated every movement of his wife, no matter how small she was, just screamed his fear of her temper that she kept hidden behind her sickly sweet façade.

"I don't expect you to understand but I feel really stupid. I'm not talking about fragile masculinity here but she wasn't like this before we got married. Things like that don't usually just happen to people. It's always the other way around too, no one cares about this way..."

He was right. Who could possibly want to hurt this guy?

"I understand everything Hoseok. And you're right although it is less common, relationship abuse concentrated on men is very underrepresented but I'll be with you every step of the way but if I ever feel that you are in serious danger I'm obliged to take this further. Just wanted you to know."

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I couldn't stop thinking about him especially at night. Although it was sometimes the way that you probably think I mean, I meant when I was eating my dinner wondering what was he eating? Would he eat anything at all? Would she cook for him? Was he even allowed to eat...

Silly dramatic scenarios that could definitely be true.

"How are we today?"

He stayed behind a lot to do nothing but bat his eyes playfully and talk about how his friends were telling him exactly the same things I was but more dramatic and emotional.

But Hoseok was also a lot more clever than he was letting on. I was getting sucked out of professionalism and books slowly and into his wrath. Every time he ran a hand through his hair or dragged his hands from the base of his legs right to the place I wanted to touch most, he knew exactly what he was doing and many times it was when his wife was a mere foot from him. That's when things started to get interesting.

He smiles all giddy on the couch as if Joyce slipped something in his coffee.

"I'm great actually for the first time in a long while."

I sat up suddenly interested in his flushing cheeks that seemed to spread beyond his slightly unbuttoned white shirt. He had some life in his cheeks that only meant he's surrounding himself with the people that truly care.

"I've moved back into my old room at the dorms and well I-" he looked at me "I met someone."

Fuck.

"That's great Hoseok. I'm so happy for you," I smiled cartoonishly.

Who am I kidding? A guy like Hoseok doesn't stay on the market for very long.

"So tell me about the lucky girl," I swallowed with a fist clenching my pen, feeling him saunter even though he was just sitting on the sofa, one of his perfectly sculpted hands sinking down his body towards the button of his pants. I couldn't stop shifting in my chair feeling a friction-wedgie on the horizon.

"Oh she's not a girl, she's a real woman," his hand slips beneath the opening of his trousers arching his back with the sweet release of his own touch.

What.

The air tickles my shoulder and drags up to my neck as I watch my client fuck himself on my couch. I'm frozen in place, trying to look everywhere but the intimidating outline of his desperation in his pants, the head just peeking out. But, even if I wasn't looking at his squinting eyes, whimpering lips, flexed things I could still hear his lazy groans and hard breathing.

His hand runs up and down his length teasing, not himself but I as the moment runs on for longer than I would care to admit.

Damn it. This was so wrong and in his little smirk and through his groans he knew it.

"I didn't know how much I wanted her until I realised..." he panted, eyes devouring my flustering form before settling on my tightly crossed legs that were bouncing with restraint.

"She wants me too."

With difficulty, I drag my greedy eyes away from his body and slip a hand under my suffocating skirt wanting to make the dull pulsating ache stop so I could get on with my day, parting my legs with newly found confidence for him to see exactly what I wanted.

Hoseok dragged his tongue over his panting hungry lips and I could only moan with the wonder of its capability. What would he feel like lost under my fingertips?

"Let me have you," he strokes faster while not ripping his eyes away from what I was doing once. "Please Dr."

My legs were aching at my lack of flexibility but some things were just worth suffering. As much as I would cringe at this later, watching him watch me was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. I wanted him to have me but I didn't dare cross the border of professionalism. If I was going to watch my client have sex with himself I'd do it in my chair on my side of the field.

Each one of my pants has me looking around. Pant, the door is locked. Pant, Joyce has gone home. Pant, I shaved. Pant, he was married. Pant, fuck it she's a bitch.

"Y/N," he groans, finally closing his eyes as his clenching thighs began to twitch.

"Hoseok," I said all the same, determined to see him finish in my office.

If I couldn't solve his problem then I'd definitely solve another.

"Y/N."

"Hoseok."

"Y/N?"

I shot up slightly in my chair, a confused Hoseok sat on the sofa in front of me, legs wide open, gawking as a red rash creeps from underneath my blouse and onto my clenched jaw. What the fuck just happened.

"I'm sorry Hoseok I must've- well I don't know... What were you saying?" I stutter flustered, what an impression I've made.

I can't believe I just dozed off in my appointment to fantasize about one of my clients masturbating on my sofa! A married man! A damaged man.

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"I took her back."

I tried not to let my judgement cloud my advice but considering how sinful and flustered I was, that proved to be more difficult than what I thought.

"Was it on your own terms?" I fixed my glasses on my nose, stray messy hairs tickling my neck just like in that stupid dream.

I bet she manipulated her way back into his life, cried on his doorstep saying how fun it was that one time they went ice skating or some shit. Bias. Bias. Bias.

"Well yeah, I wouldn't have taken her back if she wasn't right," he got suddenly defensive, insecure about the choices he had made this past week.

"Hey, it's alright. She's your wife, you can't just do things just because a therapist told you to. I only know what you're feeling because of classes and experience in this job, I have no idea how you personally feel. If you love her, all of her, then you've made the right choice."

"And if I don't?"

Fuck, I wasn't expecting that. Um.

"Then you need to take control, defeat whatever it is you're feeling and do what is right for you, despite the feelings of others. At the end of the day, only you know what's best of you Hoseok."

"What's best for me?"

He takes a moment to ponder, stuck in a very difficult situation that could possibly change the rest of his life. But, there's a glint.

"I know you've been fantasizing about me," he smirks out of nowhere making me feel like the god damn client.

I tilt my head, do I plead guilty?

"I haven't exactly been innocent here either I just can't help myself when I'm around you. I don't know if it's the chair or the office or..."

The fuck is wrong with my chair?

"Because it just feels right."

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this, not just his situation but he was the type if you saw him on the streets you'd immediately picture what the rest of your life would be like in his arms.

I really liked him, wanted him so bad it suddenly seemed good.

"I think this is very inappropriate and I'm not entirely sure what you're feeling isn't just desperation to fill the hole your wife has left behind. I can assure you, Mr Jung, I am not the right person to be filling it," I admit.

"Are you taking notes right now?"

I finish writing 'fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk' on some paper, immediately scribbling over it before he craned his neck just enough.

"Hoseok, I need you to calm down. I am a professional, this is my job. As much as I have grown to care for you and want to help you more than any other person, I cannot help you if you cross the line."

"I don't believe you."

"Excuse me?"

He looks at me finally.

"I said I don't believe you. But I'll ignore your stubbornness for now. Just help me."

#bts imagines #bts smut #hoseok imagine #jhope #hopesmut #bts #jimin

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lone-spidey · 1 year

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For the followers of mine who might’ve been wondering if I was ever going to be making some sort of “comeback,” well, as you can see from my description that won’t be happening anytime soon. I’ve decided to take an “indefinite hiatus,” which is just a fancy way of saying that I won’t be making posts for this account any time in the foreseeable future.

As I believe I’ve stated in a previous post, I am no longer hyperfixating on the MCU, and I have no motivation to make posts for this account. I might still reblog MCU related posts if I see them on my dash but, seeing as I don’t use tumblr much anyways, it will likely be very rare.

I am not planning on deleting this blog, but I also have no plans to maintain it, so don’t stick around for my sake. If you want to unfollow, I encourage you to do so.

To my 261 followers: Thank you so much for following, and for all the happy memories :)

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hornyforfictionalpeople · 3 years

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hi there! i just wanna say that i love your writing and it would make me so happy if you could do a george weasley x ravenclaw!reader smut. just one where it’s both their first time and it’s kinda awkward on both sides but pretty fluffy too. thank you! :)

A Night of Firsts

A/N: AAAH MY FIRST REQUEST! thank you so much for requesting and you’re too sweet! i did take some creative liberty with this so i hope you don’t mind :) and oml this is my first smut so i’m sorry if it took a bit, i didn’t want it to be pure shit 😅 also i used she/her pronouns but if you were requesting for gender neutral or he/him pronouns please feel free to tell me! i tried looking for any mistakes but i wanted to get this out ASAP. also my requests/inbox are open so please request i pinned the post with my rules on them!

Pairing: George Weasley x ravenclaw!femreader

Warnings: smut (first time between characters) fluff, and a healthy dose of awkward! 😌

You two have been together for a few months, fairly new but the soft caresses and warm snuggles in the dark made it feel longer than that. Every soft kiss that came with sweet promises was true bliss to your ears. Sure you haven’t been together very long and yes no one expected the notorious prankster to get with a more goal-oriented Ravenclaw but so what? You two had it deep for each other, plain and simple.

You were walking down the halls, deep in thought and making your way to Potions, a class you didn’t want to miss. But very probable detention was the least of your worries, not with this tension between you and George. Now unlike the other squealing, over-sharing girls in your dorm who talked way too loud about their sexual escapades. You had your fair share of kisses, wandering hands that never went below the belt (much to your dismay) but it was uncharted waters, a whole new ordeal you have yet to experience. It’s not that you or George was never in the “mood” per se, but two virgins trying to say they want to “do it” ends with a lot of beating around the bush.

But you have finally had it, this pent up sexual frustration was not helping your ever-working brain. And the constant teasing and jaunts of your fellow dormmates of “Y/N it’s such an experience you’re really missing out” or “Y/N I’ve been with his twin and his was exceptionally sized”.

But teases aside you had a class to attend, you thought as you sat in your designated seat towards the back of the room where you could see a mop of long ginger hair in the seat beside yours.

“Hey, darling what’s got your knickers in a twist?” George muttered in your ear as you plopped down in your seat.

“W-what?!” your voice raising an octave with your shock. Red starting to creep around your neck.

“Love are you okay? You walked in and you looked angsty.” George questioned you.

“N-no I’m fine, really Georgie I am just uh girls in my dorm kept me up all night. Just a bit tired is all.” I mean what else were you supposed to tell your boyfriend, that you were heavily lusting over him and wanted him to finally have sex with you? Not a great conversation starter. “Just shush and eyes up front George, I swear I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say love.” and with that, you opened up your potions textbook, desperately trying to pay attention to the droning tones of Professor Snape.

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God that was the longest class of my life, you thought as you packed everything into your bookbag.

“You know love if you’re up for it, we can always skip the next class you look a bit tired.” George suggested, eyes searching your face in worry.

Oh god this is embarrassing, I really can’t hide my thoughts easily it seems, you huffed in thought. “You know what George why not? W-we have something to uh discuss anyways.” you replied absentmindedly.

“We do? What is it? New prank idea? A cool invention that can potentially harm someone? Wait! This isn’t the “I think we should see other people conversation” is it? PleaseY/NwhateverIdidIcanmakeituptoyo- *mpfh*”

“Georgie please stop speculating and running your mouth, we are not breaking up anytime in the foreseeable future okay? So please calm down I’m not talking about that, i-it’s er something else okay?” you hastily explained whilst covering George’s mouth with your hand. “J-just come on.” you stutter out moving your hand from his mouth to now his wrist, tugging him out the classroom and down the corridor to your dorm.

“Okay so what is the secret you’ve been dying to tell me?” George wonders aloud as he jumps onto your bed. “Now come on Y/N spill.”

“I-I think no I uh believe that we should uh you know George uhm we should takethenextstepinourrelationship. AndbesidesI’monthepotionsoIwon’tgetpregnantoranythingyouknow? Oh thank god that was good to get out I’ve been holding that in for far too long.” you rush out all in one breath.

“Y-you mean s-sex?” George questioned, a rapidly deepening bright red settling upon his face.

“I mean yes I’m very ready but I really won’t try anything u-unless you would want to as well of course and I really don’t want to force you into anything really but I mean if say I’m ready and your ready and uh we are ready together-”

“Love,” George says as he rises from the bed to walk next to you and massage your arms - finally understanding, “We can but only if you’re ready alright? Just tell me clearly.”

“George I really want to.” you softly murmur as his hands start trailing towards your shoulders, curling a tendril of Y/H/C around his finger.

“Okay uhm, this is also my first time so uh if something hurts or you don’t like it just uh t-tell me to stop okay?” he says as he trails soft kisses down your throat, stripping you of your robes and undershirt.

His warm breath was making your skin overheat as he made a path down your body with his lips. Goodness the girls were right, I really was missing out, you thought as George started sucking deep bruises on your clavicle. He tentatively looked up at you as he made his way to your chest and a small nod from you egged him on. His long fingers slipping around your sides to unclasp your bra, slowly removing it from your body so he can commit every expanse of your body to memory. Each curve and soft arch were devoured by his eyes.

Continuing his journey exploring your crevices, he leaned down further towards your breast and cautiously started to feel around, listening for every small moan or quick breath that indicated he was doing something right. Replacing his hands with his mouth, he slowly led a path down your collarbone to the valley of your breasts, littering kisses all over your bust.

Stopping just below your hips, he slowly makes work of your trousers - slowly sliding them down along with your underwear and taking in the gorgeous view beneath him.

“Goodness darling, you’re stunning.” he murmurs as he leans down all the way positioning himself right at your all ready slick entrance. “I-I’ll just go really slow and uh pinch my wrist if it’s too much, okay love?”

He continues with a nod from you, his movements slow and unsure as he sheathes himself inside of you. Inch by tanalyzingly slow inch, listening for every wince of uncomfort or gasp of pleasure. He stills himself halfway in when he hears your sharp intake of breath.

“Babe you have to loosen up or it will hurt worse okay?” he murmurs softly, stroking your hair in attempt of soothing you. “J-just go in a-all the way. I-It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Okay love, just breathe.” he answers as he bottoms out in you, filling you to the brim with his length. Heavy, wanting pants escape from the both of you as George experimentally pulls out a little and pushes back in.

Seeing your pleasure in his actions he starts a pace, blissfully pausing every time he presses inside of you. Eye rolling back into your head with each cautious thrust, your fingers tangle in George’s soft hair, wanting to feel any part of him you can.

As he picks up his thrusting, his big hands come to wrap around your waist and up to your chest, carefulling pulling and tweaking each breast with fevor. Both of you in a newly discovered state of euphoria. Bodies tangling together, writhing with sexual content.

Each moan of yours egging George on, closer and closer to both of yours peaks. His hand cautiously moving towards your mound, slowling finding and circling your clit with pure luck. His hips and fingers work harder, desperate to get both you and him to your sweet releases.

Each flick of his fingers, thrust of his hips, and your adamant tugs on his hair makes something snap gloriously within both of you. A flowing stream finally let free as you both reach your highs. Pleasure overwhelming the both of you in waves, twitching legs pulling tighter around each other. Bodies in a thin layer of sweat due and both heads of hair in disarray.

George lands feather-light pecks on your neck as you both come down from your peaks. He slowly hikes you up onto his torso, sinking down under the covers in exhaustion. Holding you tight like a lifeline. Stroking your hair in weary circles, breaths mixing together and softening as your tiredness overcame you.

#george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction

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alovesongshewrote · 3 years

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Almost A Thousand Years - Killahead, Part 2 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years. You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years. And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain. But somewhere in that time, things changed. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: B A T T L E

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS KIDS!!!!! also, i swear to god this was written a month ago, before aaron confirmed the skulls and wizards thing

Taglist: @furblrwurblr @rainningdoom @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458 @sitherin-mxschief @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip @dolphincommander @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @justarandomhoman @tales-of-hisirdoux @blixeon @yagirlcheesely

It was about as surreal as you thought it would be.

As a child you were trained to fight; to stab, to slice, to claw, and to bleed. You were taught that humans were the root of all evil and that the Gumm-Gumms would one day take what was theirs. Now you were fighting with the humans, the evil, the oppressors, against what had been your home, your people.

And it was going surprisingly well. It turns out having insider knowledge is very helpful on the battlefield. You were able to block everything they threw at you, to dodge and weave through their attacks and land some pretty good hits of your own. Douxie had your back, of course, blue light striking down as many opponents as it could take. In return, you took out anything that even threatened to get too close.

It was going well. But it didn’t last.

“WHERE IS THE WITCH SPY?”

“Oh no.”

“(Y/N), stay behind me,” Douxie’s voice was a dull hum against the roar around you, and of course, the screaming troll in front of you.

“JOIN YOUR BROTHERS AGAINST THIS PATHETIC ARMY!!”

“Oh god.”

Douxie noticed the fact that you weren’t even close to listening to him and took action, moving in front of you, striking any Gumm-Gumm soldier who even looked your way.

“RETURN HOME (Y/N) (L/N)!”

So, that was it. That was what had kept you in the dark as a traitor for at least a hundred years. The very sentence that made you avoid Britain with all your strength. The thing that drove a wedge between you and the man you now loved.

Four words were all it took.

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N), love, please, answer me!”

You jerked your head, snapping back to reality. No matter what events were relevant to your personal history, there was still a battle going on. You had to keep fighting. You struck down another few Gumm-Gumms just as Douxie used some of Archie’s fire to dispose of another, another few.

“Ha, I've always hated those twits!”

“Valid!” you cried as you ducked under an opponent’s strike. You took out their knees, rising again, just in time to see Morgana descend from a sky wormhole. Just what you needed.

“Night has already fallen.”

“Oh, really? Couldn’t tell.”

Douxie rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, but you could see the grin on his face. That boy loved you and all of your shenanigans. You were shaken from your thoughts, however, when Morgana started firing spells into the crowd, yeeting her magic around with reckless abandon.

“Morgana’s returned! She’s enemy number one!”

“Go!” Jim yelled, “We’ll hold the bridge!”

“Hisirdoux, with me! I-You!” oh no, he was talking to you, “I take you in as my apprentice, spare your life from the sword, and this is how you-”

“Master, they didn’t have a choice!” Douxie grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from Merlin’s wrath, “It was a matter of survival!”

“Survival! What-”

“Please, Master, let them help. If we leave them here, any of the nights might try to attack them!”

“And why should that matter! They are a traitor, are they not? Death on the battlefield is more merciful than anything they might receive after the battle is won.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them,” Douxie’s voice was calm, but you could hear the anger behind it, “(Y/N) has proved their loyalty to me hundreds of times. They’re more than capable and I trust them with my life.”

You broke from your reverie, eyes painted with concern. How could he trust you so easily? Why did he, even after everything that had happened? This shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you. He did love you, after all, and yet, you still found yourself surprised by this revelation. You couldn’t help the hesitant smile that crept onto your face as you squeezed his hand slightly. He really did love you, didn’t he?

Merlin grumbled something, probably regretting that binding spell right about now, before motioning for you to follow him.

You cast a wave back to the kids, a silent wish for their luck, before you ran after Merlin, your hand still entwined with Douxie’s. He didn’t let go until you reached a small group of ruins, at which point you, your wizard and the old man stood, backs facing each other, all of you peered out into the darkness. Archie flew above you, dragon eyes finding nothing out of the ordinary. Not yet, anyway. You kept your sword out in front of you, and you could tell that Douxie was doing the same with his brace. You had no idea what Merlin was doing, but you never did, so that wasn’t a big deal.

“I feel dark magic.”

“It means she’s close.”

You and the familiar both gasped as something ran through the trees. A chill made its way into the woods, surrounding you and raising goosebumps on your skin. You felt your heart begin to race as strange echoes continued to ring out through the air. They soon morphed from a collection of noises into a laugh- Morgana’s.

“An old man, a foolish boy, and a traitor; lost as always.”

Your small group moved slightly, scanning the forest for any sign of the sorceress. You could feel her presence, but there was nothing there.

“Do you dare run… or face my vengeance?”

Oh. There she was.

“Um, is there a third option?” Archie asked, sounding much too calm for the situation at hand. You couldn’t blame him though, you would have done the same. But you weren’t doing the same. You were looking over your shoulder just as a collection of roots shot out at you. Thanks to your little turn, you had an advantage, cutting the offending plant parts before they could get to you. Douxie and Merlin, however, were not so lucky. The latter was pulled to the ground and stabbed through the shoulder with a particularly sharp root. He barked out an order for Hisirdoux to run, which he could not do because of the roots clinging to his shoulders. You used your sword on what you could, and a blast of green energy from Merlin took out the rest. A little anticlimactic if you ask me.

Despite your escape, Morgana cackled, even as Douxie fired spell after spell at her with little success. While he made his attempt, you helped Merlin to a standing position, a task that became easier when Douxie rejoined you at the old wizard’s other side.

“Merlin, you’re injured! Badly… (Y/N), is there anything-”

“Hisirdoux, if I should fall this day…”

Merlin handed his former apprentice a scroll, one which was covered with notes and instructions about building a tomb, and the heart of Avalon. Your brows furrowed as you read over Douxie’s shoulder. That wasn’t ominous at all.

“Why are you giving us this?”

“Foreseeing the future means preparing for the worst of it,” he glared at you for a moment, and you wondered what exactly he could see. He clearly hadn’t seen your act of treason coming, but there were other things that made you wonder. Your thoughts were interrupted by more ominous Merlin content, “That includes your wounded friend.”

“Jim? What about him?”

“The corruption in his heart has no cure. When he returns to the future, it will overtake him.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

You’d had your suspicions, but hearing it from the master wizard himself brought it to another level of reality. There was no cure. There was no solution. You were going to go home, and you were going to kill Douxie. Or you’d try to, at the very least. Maybe, now that Douxie was a master wizard himself, he could do you both a kindness and kill you where you stood.

…

Yeah, no. He wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon, but a witch could dream! You feel his hand on your back, a gesture meant to comfort you that only made you sick. How he still cared about you, even after all of this would confuse you for years to come. For now, though, you just accepted it. There wasn’t time for much else with an evil sorceress on the prowl.

“No, no there must be some other way! I made a promise to them, to Claire, to get them home alive, all of them!”

“Yet, to save time itself, you all must return home, even if it means James Lake will be no more.”

That wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. While a distance stemming from your past had momentarily sprung up between you and the kids, the gap between you had since closed. You loved those little monsters like they were your siblings, and you’d do anything for them. The thought that Jim would have to die, to make another sacrifice when he’d already given up so much, was just another thing that killed you inside.

“And there’s no other solution?” you tried to keep quiet despite the rage that boiled inside you, not at anyone in particular, but at the situation as a whole, “There’s no way to fix this that doesn’t get Jim killed?”

Merlin shook his head, but you didn’t need that confirmation. You already knew the answer.

“Such is the burden of a wizard,” the old one spoke as your small group made its way deeper into the night, “To make the hard choices mortals cannot,” he grunted, slouching forward slightly, reminding you that you should really take a look at that stab wound at some point. Merlin, however, paid no real mind to this, instead, continuing his little monologue, “Now it is yours to bear.”

You looked away from your wizard companions to see a giant skull, lodged between a rock and… well, another rock. Some may call it a canyon, you called it fucking ominous and terrifying. The skull was lit from within, orange light seeping through the space where eyes had once stared out into the world. You wondered, for a moment, how these old bones had ended up here, and how they had stayed. What was the last thing this being saw? Was it the sky above, or the ground below? What could kill something as large as this? You didn’t ask your questions. It didn’t seem like the right time.

And really, it wasn’t time for anything other than nerves and anxiety. Without a word, you followed Merlin across the rocks until he stood in front of the skull, on top of an odd sort of contraption. You stood a few steps behind, safely off the weird cage thing.

“Morgana, reveal thyself!”

Before you could question the logistics of giving yourselves away, a portal, ringed with gold and made of shadows appeared, releasing the queen of the apocalypse onto another rock. Yep, that sure was an evil sorceress. Just what you needed at this time of night.

“Look what has wandered into my web,” nice starting point. Threatening, but not over the top. You cast your sarcastic thoughts aside for the moment, as valid as they were, preparing yourself instead, for a fight.

“These are dark powers you medal with, Morgana. Who granted them? Who resurrected you from death?”

“Wizards beyond your ken,” ah shit. Just as you suspected. ‘Wizards beyond your ken,’ was mysterious witch for ‘The Arcane Order.’

And then she was gone again. Dope.

“So, uh… we should head into the big skull of doom?” you asked, eyebrows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yep, let’s go.” You and Douxie nodded at each other before helping Merlin scale the rocks and get into the skull, asking Archie to stand watch for a moment, just to secure his safety. He agreed only once you’d promised to call him if things got rough.

Inside of the first skull, you found a second, slightly smaller skull. What the hell was it with magic dudes and skulls, huh? Morgana had this as her lair, the Arcane Order’s ship was a skull, Douxie had his whole vibe and Merlin kept skulls in his office. Shit, even you kept bones around, though you were a doctor and arguably had the best excuse. Your thoughts ran wild as you examined the space around you, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of your least favourite murder-witch.

“Morgana!”

The two wizards prepared for battle, but you hesitated. Something was wrong here. Morgana was crying, no-sobbing. You recognized this, whatever this was. You’d seen it in yourself back in the 1300s. Yep, something was wrong alright, and judging by this, someone was probably dead.

“It’s your fault!” She cried, “You’re the reason Arthur is gone!”

Oh, so you were right. That didn’t really explain how Arthur’s blood was on your hands though.

“What?”

“Gone?”

“Uh, guys? It kinda sounds like the King is dead.”

Your companions had no time to respond as Morgana rose through the air, seeking misplaced revenge instead of proper justice. She fired a spell at the three of you, which Douxie ran to shield you from. Merlin joined him a second later, limping towards the younger wizard with your help. The second he stood on his own, your magic joined theirs.

“She’s too powerful! We have no choice but to seal her away!”

“I know. I’ll try to buy some ti-”

Douxie was cut off when Merlin knocked you both clear across the room and out of the way of another spell, one which left the old wizard in chains.

You felt the impact that Douxie suffered and you were sure he felt yours. Nevertheless, the two of you pulled yourselves up just as Morgana started on another speech.

“Oh, shame! Little Douxie finally gets his staff, just in time to die with it!”

She aimed her next attack at him, but you interfered, knocking her away with a shield made of your magic.

“And you! Traitorous little wretch!” you weren’t exactly sure which treason she was talking about or who she learned it from. You’d betrayed a lot of people over the years, she’d have to be more specific, “Why do you still fight alongside them?!”

You knocked away another attack before answering, “The shorter one is cute!” With that, you went on the offensive, landing a kick to Morgana’s stomach and striking her again with the butt of your sword. Your small victory didn’t last long though, as she struck back, the impact slamming you into the opposite wall and probably cracking a few of your ribs. You’d have to apologize to Douxie for that one.

Morgana scoffed at you, looking down at your crumpled figure as you struggled to stand, “Only a fool would fight for love!”

Her voice may have contained a little more rage than was necessary, and she may have been projecting a little bit, but she didn’t have time to say anything else. Douxie handed a few hits with his staff, using surprise to his advantage, and holding up surprisingly well despite the pain you both were in. Morgana turned her taunting onto Douxie, mocking him as they fought.

“You can’t even wield it!” you winced as she landed a hit, “You should stick to your usual tricks.”

You bit your lip as she struck him in the face- twice. This really wasn’t a great day for either of you, was it?

“Use the power of your staff! Make it your own!”

“Please, Douxie.” Your voice was quiet, and there was almost no way he heard it. Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but in the next second, his staff turned into a fucking guitar so that was probably it if you had to guess. Or maybe it was the next second when he avenged you by smacking Morgana in the face with said guitar, sending her flying across the room. You knew that as a doctor you shouldn’t hope for someone to crack a rib, but this was an exception you were willing to make.

“What?!”

“BABE! THAT WAS HOT!!” you yelled, too shocked to say much else.

“Bleeding balroths! This is nuclear!” your wizard said, spinning the staff around.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that as you pulled yourself up from the ground. Of all the things Douxie had ever said and done in his life, that had to be the Douxie-est.

“Did you just strike me with a-a lute?!”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh. No, uh-uh. Spellcaster guitar, darling.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the fuck he just said, but you were 110% there for it. He played a lil’ riff on his staff, and you had a very brief mental debate on whether or not that took the throne for the Douxie-est thing he’d ever done.

“Needs tuning though.” He continued to play the riff for a solid minute, and you weren’t sure what was funnier. The fact that this was, in fact, something that was happening, or how Done Merlin looked with literally everything at that moment. It was both. Both was good.

“I meant make it your own weapon!”

Douxie finished playing just in time to shield himself from another of Morgana’s attacks, “Well, this is technically an “axe!”

“You are a huge geek!”

“And you love it!” your wizard yelled, playing again while running from Morgana, looking for an opening while avoiding a volley of spells. He was right. You did love it. That’s why you were going to help at the next opportunity, your (and technically his) poor ribs be damned.

“Hisirdoux! This is no time for dreadful music!”

“Dreadful?”

“Absolutely infernal.”

“I mean, I thought it was good!” you yelled, launching your own round of spells at Morgana, making it harder for her to land a hit on Douxie.

“No worries, this is just the opening track!”

“What do you hope to do? Blow out our eardrums?”

“Well, pardon me if this rock is too freakin’ awesome for your medieval sensibilities!” You had no idea how he did it, but he managed to land on one of the light fixtures (of all things) while you weren’t looking. You couldn’t really see him from where you were, but you were almost certain that he was doing the sign of horns and sticking out his tongue.

“Enough of your noise!” Morgana cried, blasting you to the side quickly before returning to her real fight. You were lucky that this blast was not as strong as her first. You were able to roll out of it without causing any real damage, a benefit to both you and Douxie. Speaking of, your wizard found himself locked in a Harry Potter-style duel, two magics facing off against one another in a single stream. It was not looking too good for your boi though. He seemed to notice this, and jumped from the light and returned to physical combat on the ground. Unfortunately, that did not end well either, and you bit back a cry as Douxie was thrown through the room. Yeah, things were looking rough. Time to call in the cat calvary.

You swore you were only gone for a moment, but in that time, Douxie managed to get himself pinned against a wall.

“Do not fret, Merlin. You’ll find a new apprentice to replace him. Are people not dispensable, after all?”

“Ok, go, go now!” you whispered to Archie, your tone intense, which was fair considering the situation. The familiar did as told and flew at the witch, sending her fling off balance and keeping her away from Douxie. Arch did a quick loop near Merlin, tossing the wizard his staff before circling around to land on Douxie’s shoulder. Merlin and Morgana began their fight as you ran to your wizard and his familiar.

“Nice work my dudes, you think you can keep it up?”

“Probably! Arch, light me!” you liked the sound of that. You liked the sight of it even more as blue flames encircled Morgana, trapping her, and allowing Douxie and Archie to make their final attack, keeping the sorceress in place.

“Hurry, I can’t hold her that long!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” you said, voice quiet as you threw your own spell at the witch from below. Hopefully, that would make things a little easier. It did. Douxie was grateful.

“You have lost yourself, Morgana! Bound to dark magic. I have no choice but to seal you away! Sigilia infractum!”

It seemed to work for a second, but then, for like, the third (?) time in that battle you were blasted back, Douxie fell with you and hit the ground harder.

“Man, this sucks,” you whispered as you pulled yourselves up, going to Merlin’s aid.

“Master!”

“She’s too powerful,” he groaned, “You have to finish this, together.”

“We can do that… we can do that! Let’s go!”

You and Douxie moved in sync, matching each other’s movements exactly. Using his staff, Douxie’s blue magic replaced Merlin’s green while yours froze the witch again, keeping her from attacking you.

“Sigilia infractum causera!”

Finally, the blast from the spell did not hurt you, instead, it did as it was supposed to, trapping Morgana. You let your own spell ease up, instead, lending whatever strength you could to Douxie, God knows he would need it.

“I will destroy you all! No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will end all that you love until you feel my agony!”

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to threaten that! Come up with something original, then we’ll talk.”

The witch roared and threw a spell in your direction, but it disappeared into a shadow edged with purple.

“Hey! Hands off my teachers!”

Oh, Claire! Claire had found you somehow, that was good.

“I swear on all your lives, I shall rise again!”

“Already seen it,” the girl cried, throwing some much-deserved sass Morgana's way, “You don’t win. See you in 900 years!”

And with that, the spell was complete. Claire opened another portal, dragging Morgana into it. With that big historical event over, your adrenaline failed you and you staggered forward. That was pretty convenient considering it let you catch Douxie, who was doing much worse than you were. You noticed his eyes rolling back slightly, which was a cause for some alarm.

“Hey, heyheyheyheyhey, stay with us, you nerd, don’t pass out on me,” you weren’t sure you could handle the stress if he did.

“Douxie! Are you okay?!” Archie and Claire moved in, the former knocking Douxie back and licking his face relentlessly.

“Ugh! That’s-that’s disgusting!”

You and Claire both laughed at this, glad that at least this part of the fight was finally over. Douxie stole a glance at you and wondered if he had somehow died during the battle. How else could there be an angel before him?

“Well,” he turned his gaze from your smile to Claire with only minor difficulties, “I think we just saved history.”

You sat back, all fears forgotten for now in a moment of relief and elation as you watched your boyfriend give the girl a high-five.

“And you took down a ninth-level sorceress.”

“Damn right,” you giggled, which was new, but not unwelcome. You turned to Douxie, “Sharp work, samurai.” Your friends rolled their eyes at your antics, though they did it out of love.

The excitement calmed for a moment, allowing Archie to speak, “Merlin would be proud.”

“Yeah, if he wasn’t out cold.”

“I mean, it’s not a great look for him, but full transparency? I could probably take a three-hundred-year nap right now.”

Douxie laughed, but he wrapped a hand around yours and whispered, “Please don’t.”

You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you would not answer your problems with sleep. Not today, anyway. To be completely honest, the problem immediately at hand could be solved rather quickly, by you, at least.

“Anyway, Merlin’s still been stabbed, so I’ll just-”

Fortunately, this was just a stab wound. No magic, no tricks, no possession, just medicine. That was what you knew, it was what you could deal with. It was over too quickly. Was that a thing you could say? Could you wish for medical treatment to last longer? Was that something you could do? Not to mention that he was your boyfriend’s surrogate dad, which just made things complicated. Either way, it was over too fast. You returned to Camelot, mourned the dead, said your goodbyes, and that was it. Time was up. You had to go home.

Home. What even was home now? You knew the answer. Home was Douxie. Wherever he was, you wanted to be. He made you feel safe, feel loved, feel every good thing that humans are supposed to feel, but- To save the world, to save his life, you would have to leave him. There was no other choice, either you stayed in the past and everyone died, or you went back to the future and risked his life by staying with him. You had to go. As soon as you got back, you’d have to run. You didn’t know where, to-to Spain, or Japan, or Cuba, Vietnam, Egypt, France, somewhere, anywhere, just to keep him safe. You didn’t want to do it. You just wanted to stay by his side, forever, if possible. But that was the thing. It wasn’t possible. And that broke your heart.

And if possible, these gosh darn kids were going to break you even more.

“Everybody, ready yourselves. We don’t have much time. I’ll dial us in for when we left.”

“But what’s gonna happen when we get there? The danger we escaped, it’ll be waiting for us. And Jim’s still hurt.”

You bit your lip as you and Douxie approached Jim and Claire. You really didn’t want to be the one who had to say this. You didn’t want to be around when she heard the news. Shit, you didn’t even want it to be news. You just wanted your kids to be happy, and to not kill your boyfriend, and to live for once. Maybe fate just didn’t like you.

“Claire, about that… Jim is-”

“Ready to face the inevitable,” Jim held out a hand to stop you.

“Jim, are you sure?” Douxie asked while you maintained your silence. You were pretty sure if you said anything you’d lose your composure.

“Jim?” Oh God, and now Claire was going to find out how screwed you still were. This was gonna suck.

“Claire, the shard in- There is no cure. That’s what Merlin told me earlier.”

You winced at the horror on the young girl’s face. She didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did.

“That’s crazy! We can find something! I’ll learn a spell, we can stay here!”

“If we don’t all go back right now, the future won’t exist. What kind of hero would I be if I sacrificed everyone else? Not to be ironic, but we’re out of time.”

“No! Douxie, (Y/N), tell him! We can fix this! You can fix this!”

You brought your hand up to hide your eyes from the sorceress. She was right, you should have been able to fix this, and tears wouldn’t solve anything. Your only solution was running away, and Jim- oh God, Jim. See, it was things like this that made you start drinking in the twenties.

“I’m sorry, Claire. He’s right. We must go back now, but when we do, we’ll find a way to reverse this,” he stole a glance back at you, and your distraught state only drove him further. He had to do this, to fix things when you got home. He owed all of you that much, “I promised I would return you home, and I am, but the portal can only stay open for a few moments. This is our one shot. Trust me.”

A moment later, he joined you at the base of the ship before taking your hand and leading you onto it.

“We’ll fix this,” he promised, his voice low so only you could hear, “Together. We’ll go home to the future, and we’ll fix this, and then-” your eyes met his as he paused, “And then, maybe, we could start our future.”

Despite the tears that threatened to fall, you smiled ever so slightly, “We’ll build a new one if we have to.”

It wasn’t until his lips met yours that you started crying. It wasn’t his fault it was just- fuck you would miss this. You smiled again as you pulled apart, though the tears hadn’t stopped. It was for his sake, really. Under normal circumstances, you might pretend that everything was fine, but for just one second, you wanted to believe it.

“I love you,” your voice shook, and you hated it.

“I love you, too,” his voice was strong, yet tired. And you loved it.

You pushed a small smile onto your face, trying to cast the illusion that you were okay, and that everything was okay, and that no one would die when you returned. Your attempts were quickly halted by a sting on your cheek. That came from him, you realized, as you noticed a thin cut that ran across his cheekbone. You ran your thumb over it, his skin patching together and healing under your hand. At least you could still do that one thing. Sure, you were a traitorous assassin, but by god could you heal a small cut.

Douxie smiled, his grin seeming more natural than yours. He kissed you one last time before letting you go and taking the time map. You watched him, not saying a word as he said something under his breath and activated the map and the heart. A beam of light lit the night sky green, going on for a moment until it formed a portal. You could almost see your time on the other side. That was it. That was how you would get back to the future. Yay.

It was weird. You’d known Douxie for so long, and hated him for most of that time, but now? Now you were dreading going back to your time, going back to general safety because it meant that he would die. It was just odd to think that there was a time where you would have wished for this, for a chance to kill him and avoid the blame. If you wished for anything now, it would be another way out.

You followed Douxie onto Merlin’s airship and walked past him, standing as far away as you could. You didn’t know what would happen when you crossed that barrier. You might try to murder him instantly, you might be able to control yourself, you might be able to fight off your curse entirely. The point is, you didn’t know, and distance was the best solution. So, you stood alone and stared off into the night as the ship moved off towards the portal until Steve’s ramblings returned your attention to your friends.

“Man, Camelot was crazy! Why don’t they ever talk about that in the history books?”

Douxie gave the blond kid a pat on the shoulder, and you watched as Steve headed towards the front of the ship where Jim and Claire stood. The girl was looking back towards you, but you couldn’t meet her eyes. Her boyfriend was doomed, and there was nothing you could do about it. And you would have done anything. For those kids, you’d give your own life in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t an option. Not now, not yet. Douxie, however, met her eyes, though only for a moment. You didn’t have to hear him to know what he was thinking.

“My burden to bear.”

And with those final words, the world turned green, and you were gone.

#hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #almost a thousand years #aaty #angst #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux

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project-pnf-404 · 3 years

Text

Checkpoint and important updates 2!!: Electric boogaloo!!

Heyo guys!! Long time no talk. So, I’ve got some cool update stuff to show you guys. I’ve been doing a lot of blog “housekeeping” since the end of the last event. (don’t worry it hopefully won’t be boring update stuff lmao as it includes some new supplementary content). So, first and foremost, thanks to the inspiration from @koppais-smallest-nerd I’d like to let you guys know that I am now adding screen reader access to all future posts!!! This one included. At the bottom of each post under the, “read more”, image descriptions for all images will be added! Screen reader accessibility will also be added to all previous asks on the blog. However, getting through all of them will take a tiny bit. As, of this update, the first 4 asks have had image descriptions added. As well as all the supplementary content in between where applicable.

I’d also like to show you guys some supplementary content for the blog. Between these dashed lines are in character day 1 log entries written by the rest of the crew.

———————————————

I originally wasn’t sure if I wanted to put these extra day 1 logs on the main blog or not. But, I’ve decided that all supplementary content that may be story related will remain on the main blog for the foreseeable future, while BTS content will end up on PNF-404-Plus.

That being said since the end of the 1st event and my time away from the blog a lot has been going on when it comes to the blog.

For one the entire desktop version of the blog has had a large overhaul. A new theme has been added to the main page.

But, not only that but new side pages with supplementary content have been added!! This includes an event list, a bio page for the crew members of the S.S Drake, a Piklopedia page for the new Piklopedia, and a music page to top it all off!!

The Event List will show each new event as they are added! You can click on the current known events to go directly to all posts tagged with that event tag. Speaking of which all Event 01 posts have now had their tags updated with the Event 01 tag making it much easier to navigate.

The new Crew Members page has bios for all the members currently on the mission or known in the story so far! These Bios are pretty in line with cannon with some fanon, and light headcanon added in for good measure. I recommend taking a look as it does have some interesting info in there. Also quick note: all of these bios are written as if it is prior to the beginning of the blog.

Then there’s the Piklopedia!! Here you can read each of their findings as they explore PNF-404! Currently the findings will be on each area they explore (not each creature they find) as they haven’t found any new creatures yet. There is also a map of places they’ve discovered and more!

Lastly, a new music page has been added. On this page, I’ve created event-inspired music playlists. Some of the songs have been mentioned in the past. But, here you can listen to them all in one place and see which songs are for which part of the events. As well there’s a secret songs playlist. This playlist has nothing to do with the blog directly but is filled with music given to me by people I’ve met from this community while I’ve been here!! Currently, there are 5 songs there, however, there will be more added in the future! What makes it secret is that you won’t know who gave me the song XD. (well unless you’re the one who gave me the song lmao) who knows if you’ve ever shared music with me before you may find your song there!! (There is also one song I’m sharing with you guys in there too so have fun figuring that out lmao. )

As well the table of contents has been once again updated with a lot of this new stuff as well as some other new information!! As for mobile users as of now, all of this is on separate Tumblr pages. However, in the near future, I will be uploading much of this stuff , such as the Piklopedia entries and Crew Bio’s, as individual posts! However, in the meantime, if you feel like you can always check out these pages on your phone browser instead if you’re a mobile-exclusive user. (Though some pages don’t look as good on phone)

Welp, I think that’s it as far as updates go!! I should be back with brand new ask posts soon (likely within the next week or so!) so keep a look out!! I’ll see ya guys again soon and thanks for reading!!!

In the first image, Alph’s Day 1 Log entry is shown. His log says, “To think I thought the first day would go well. Then again I didn’t think I would get sucked out of the ship either so maybe I should stop being so surprised. At the very least Louie and I were able to find our way back despite some obstacles and I was able to fix the ship in time. Though if it weren’t for Chunks we would have never found the pikmin we did. That little guy sure saved the day.

However, Then there's what happened to Brittany… To see her in a situation like that... I can’t even bear to think about it. Tomorrow I will be checking over the entirety of the Drake to make sure a crash like that doesn't happen again. I can't help but think that the crash was due to me overlooking something during maintenance... However, The only thing I can do now is to make sure something like this never happens again for all our sake, especially Brittanys’. “ It is then sighed by Alph

In the second Image Charlies Day 1 Log entry can be read it says, “I should have been on top of things. As this crew’s captain, everything that went wrong was under my watch and things should have gone much smoother. That being said I am very glad that all of my crew have made it out alive. Though I am still worried about Brittany. If only I was able to keep her safe…

But, at this point, we all must press forward. We have a task to complete and after seeing how devastated some areas are, we must get to the bottom of what’s wrong with PNF-404. Nothing will get in my way, not with my steely fists that is!!” It is then signed by Charlie

In the third image Louies’ day 1 log entry can be seen it says,

“

Going back to the pikmin planet wasn’t at the top of my list of things I thought I’d be doing anytime soon. Yet somehow I find myself back here and stranded again…. At least I wasn’t fully alone this time…

Alph and I eventually found a pikmin that we later named Chunks. He sure acts differently in comparison to any other Pikmin I’ve seen before. But, even still, if it weren’t for Chunks, we wouldn’t have been able to help Brittany or find any other pikmin for that matter. So, we should thank him for that.” It is then signed by Louie

In the fourth image the updated version of the Project: PNF-404 Tumblr is shown. It now has a bright cyan futuristic aesthetic to it. In the fifth image a picture of the new events page, listing all the past and future events planned so far is shown. It has 1 known event Titled Event 01. The other 3 are titled Event unknown. In the sixth image, the new crew members’ character page is shown. A picture of Olimar is shown along with a description of his traits and a biography. It reads as follows,

CAPTAIN OLIMAR

AGE 38

ALIAS(ES)Olimar

SPECIES Hocotatian

GENDER Male

TITLE(S) Employee of Hocotate Freight, Xenobiologist

AFFILIATION Hocotate Freight, Planet Hocotate Government

Fatherly, well-meaning, and resourceful, for an almost 40 year old Hocotatian he has a lot of bravery and guts. Olimar first and foremost loves his family and cares deeply for others around him. A Hardworking employee of Hocotate Freight and family man, Olimar tends to try and stay level-headed while looking out for others.

Having been one of the first to visit the Pikmin planet Olimar has extensive knowledge of the planet's life. Lucky for him he just so happens to have gone to college for xenobiology. Many of his findings can be found within his many log entries known as the Piklopedia.

But, for as much as Olimar tends to be on top of things, his trips to the pikmin planet have had him face many dangers and life-threatening events. Though these issues are not something he brings up…

In the seventh image, The new Piklopidea page is shown, In one section it displays a map of PNF-404 with 2 marked locations. The first of which is highlighted in blue is named the “Silent Stream” the second, is highlighted in orange, Its title is “Glacial Gardens”. To the right of that is a description introduction for the Piklopedia. It says” To help ensure the progress and success of this mission all crew members must write down their findings in this log. Overview:

CAPTAIN Olimar: Writes In-depth biological analysis of fauna and how the ecosystem affects said fauna.

LOUIE: Writes about Recipes and ingredients that can be found in each area. ALPH: Looks at the area with the eyes of an engineer. He uses this insight to discuss the benefits and flaws of what he’s analyzing. BRITTANY: Uses her botanist skills to look into the flora of the area along with talking about the aesthetics of things and adding in her own general opinions.

CAPTAIN CHARLIE: Writes about combat strategy and how one can use the environment in an area for a tactical advantage.

To the left is a map showing the current locations discovered by the crew. The one highlighted in orange has yet to be explored.

The final image shows the new music page! 6 playlists can be selected on the left each having 5 songs. To the right is an image of the event 01 cover art. With (from left to right), Brittnay, Charlie, Olimar, Louie, and Alph all looking up with a distressed expression on their faces.

END ID

#pikmin #supplementary content #alph #louie #charlie #ooc #Event 01 #not an ask #update #man why are my posts always so long XD #I’m writing most of this in the middle of the night I’m really tired #tomorrow imma look at this and be like what the heck did I write lmao

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goulets · 3 years

Text

Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***

#jaydick #reposting this initial chapter from 8 years ago bc the other one's formatting got all screwed up #we are back at it again though #my fics #heartlandverse #forgot to put this in the description but the word count for this chapter is 6000

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nostalgiabones · 4 years

Text

Cuddles are the Best Medicine // L.H

I feel like I’ve been writing this forever but finally, here is a blurb that was requested by anon, of reader and Luke taking care of Bella when she’s poorly! Thank you as always to @calumrose for helping me with this & reading it over and over again, and for the title since thinking of one is the bane of my life lmao. This is the first blurb I’ve done for my Adoption AU, but I’d love to do more so please let me know if you have any requests here! And feedback is appreciated as always.💘

If you haven’t read any of my Adoption AU before, find them here: Missing Piece & As Time Goes By

“Do you want more of your water, Bella?”

Luke is met with a gentle head shake against his chest, indicating that the poorly toddler wanted nothing other than to remain there for the foreseeable future. It had been around a month since she officially became a Hemmings — since you and Luke were granted the adoption order to become her legal guardians.

“She’s gonna get dehydrated if she doesn’t have any liquids,” You murmur, standing up next to where Luke was holding her on the sofa. “Especially if she keeps throwing up.”

It was the first time she’d had a stomach bug since she came home with you and Luke — you’d only ever had to deal with minor colds and an ear infection, but never her throwing up like this. It had started earlier that day, first her rejecting her favourite lunch, before she had thrown up all over Luke’s shirt. It had shocked her, definitely scared her — hence why she had been so reluctant to eat or drink anything since, in case she was sick again.

“Are you sure you don’t want a little bit, baby? Just a small sip,” Luke coaxes her, warm palms smoothing up her back as she hid her face in his neck, as if it would make her invisible. “I promise it won’t make you sick.”

She whines against his shoulder, her skin hot against his — like a small furnace in his lap. Her fever hadn’t gone down for a few hours, and dressed in nothing but a diaper and a thin tshirt — she was uncomfortable. It takes her a moment but she pushes away from Luke, sitting up in his lap, holding her hand out for the sippy cup full of water so she can have a drink.

“Can I have this?” Luke asks, gesturing to her pacifier. As you were approaching her second birthday, you and Luke knew it would soon be the time to wean her away from her favourite comfort — she wasn’t ready just yet. Especially not when she was ill. Whenever the time came, it would be a difficult process for you all. “You can have it back when you have a drink.”

She places the yellow pacifier in his hand, taking the sippy cup and reluctantly having a drink. It’s as if she realises how thirsty she is as soon as she has a small drink, taking bigger gulps.

“Slow down, bubs, we don’t want it to make your tummy hurt again, do we?” You warn her in a soft voice, as she stops drinking the water and passes the sippy cup back to you. She looks back at Luke, opening her mouth so he can pop the pacifier back between her lips, where she wanted it to be. ��Is that better?”

“My poor baby,” Luke whines sympathetically, pushing her thick curls away from her flushed face so they didn’t bother her. Her forehead burned under his touch, his much cooler hands providing relief as she leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry you don’t feel good, Bella. Is there anything that will make you feel happy? Do you want to watch Belle?”

Disney movies were Luke’s go to whenever he wanted to cheer Bella up — Beauty and the Beast being her favourite, since Belle was the princess with the name closest to hers.

“Where’s piggy?” She asks behind her pacifier, looking around the room for the sweet dog. Luke smiles at her request, guessing she was asleep on your bed upstairs, where she usually was. Luke whistles, calling her name and waiting to hear her paw prints trudging down the stairs.

“There she is.” Luke pats her as she jumps up on the sofa next to him, her head landing on his thigh, close to where Bella was sitting. Bella’s tired eye lit up at the sight, her own hand gently tapping Petunia’s head as she relaxed, now that she was there. “Did you come to help Bella feel better?”

Bella yawns behind her pacifier, snuggling against Luke as he runs a hand through her hair. He flicks on the TV, turning on her favourite Disney movie as quiet background noise, hoping to distract her from how poorly she felt.

Fatigue seems to take over her as her eyes flutter, small fists rubbing at her face as if it would keep her awake. Luke could tell she was fighting sleep — a sight he had seen and dealt with many times before.

“Get some sleep, okay? I’m right here.” Luke whispers to her, kissing her forehead. She wraps her arms around his middle — rubbing her cheek against the soft material of his hoodie as she tries to get comfortable. He keeps up the soft circles on her back, knowing it would help her fall asleep.

It took a bit of persistence, but he finally felt her breathing even out as she fell asleep, letting her body rest.

***

“Does she still feel hot?”

Luke nods as he very gently touches her forehead, not wanting to startle her as she sleeps. Her nap had lasted for just over an hour, which was how long she usually slept for in the afternoon, yet there was no sign of her waking up anytime soon. He shifts her gently, his lips brushing the top of her head as he holds her.

“I don’t want to wake her up.” Luke pouts at you in concern, gently resting his cheek on top of her head. He knows she’ll get upset, especially since she felt so unwell before falling asleep — she finally looked comfortable, and he didn’t want to disturb that. “I think we’re about to have a very grumpy toddler.”

“I know, it’s been three hours since she last had her medicine though, her fever isn’t going down.” You tell him, gently pushing her curls away from her face as she fusses in Luke’s arms a little. “She can go back to sleep after if she wants to.”

Any form of routine went out of the window when she didn’t feel well — you knew her napping for this long in the afternoon would mean she wouldn’t sleep well in the night, but you had to do everything to make sure she felt okay, and if that meant her napping all afternoon — that’s what she’d do.

Luke nods, sighing in reluctance before he gently taps Bella’s shoulder, shaking her ever so slightly in the hopes of slowly waking her, without startling her. He shifts her slightly in his arms, moving her away from his chest so she would wake up. She instantly clings onto the neck of his hoodie, wanting to stay cuddled up to him.

“Bella,” He murmurs, shaking her shoulder a little as she whined around her pacifier, a hand lifting to rub her eyes. She’s half-awake for a moment before she starts crying, pushing her face into Luke’s shoulder. “I know, I know you were having a good sleep. I’m sorry.”

“No,” She cuddles back up to him, a sad tone in a her voice. “Sleepy.”

“I know you are,” Luke murmurs, pushing her hair away from her face and kissing her forehead. Her skin burns under his lips. She reluctantly sits up a little and opens her eyes, stretching in his lap. “You need some more medicine though, baby, to make you feel better.”

“No more,” She cries, hiding her face against Luke’s shoulder as if it could stop you from giving the medicine to her. He stands up with her in his arms, rubbing her back as he followed you into the kitchen. “No please.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Luke coos to her as she cries, knowing how much she hates the medicine she’d had three hours precious. The combination of her feeling so unwell along with her sleep being disturbed definitely didn’t help. Luke also felt bad saying that she had to have it when she said no — teaching her consent had been something you tried to focus on. Yet some things, she just had to do. “We can’t even bribe her with food because I don’t want her to throw up again.”

“Listen, Bella.” You get her attention softly, running your finger over her cheek so she’s looking at you. “If you have your medicine, we can go and watch a movie in our big bed, how does that sound? Whatever you want to watch, okay?”

Her whining didn’t stop as you filled the syringe with the correct amount of medicine, handing it to Luke as he gently took her pacifier from her mouth.

“Open up, sweetheart.” Luke coaxed her, his fingertips smoothing up and down her back. She did, reluctantly — her face scrunching up at the taste as she swallowed it. “That’s my girl, I know it’s not nice.”

“Drink please.” She holds her hand out for her sippy cup, wanting to get rid of the unpleasant taste. You handed it to her and she had a drink, soon getting over the medicine. “Bed now?”

“Shall we get you all cosy in your pyjamas? Then we can have a cuddle in our bed.” Luke asks her, starting to head upstairs so he could get her changed. He thought back to when she’d refuse to let him hold her, to when she resisted any kind of comfort from her — he had no idea how you would’ve dealt with her being ill if she still reacted that way with you. It made him feel content that she seeked your comfort when she didn’t feel well. “You’re being so brave, bubba.”

“Piggy cuddle?” She asks, peering over Luke’s shoulder to check whether the smushy dog was following along behind them.

“Yeah, piggy can cuddle with us too.” Luke reassures her, his lips brushing her cheek in a soft kiss.

It wasn’t long before Luke had dressed her in a clean, thin tshirt — knowing her cosy pyjamas wouldn’t help her fever. She was still sleeping in your room — her crib at the end of your bed, where it had been since the night she came home. The time was coming for her to move into her own room, though. Luke didn’t want to think about it — he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fall asleep without being able to look across the room and see Bella right there.

“Doggy, please.” She requests, her voice quiet beneath her pacifier as she spots the well loved dog in her crib, the material worn and limp from the amount of times it had been washed. She wouldn’t sleep without him. Luke picks him up from her crib, along with her blanket, in case she wanted it to cuddle up to. He replies with a soft ‘got it, baby’ before he sets her down on the bed.

He turns down the lamp in the corner of the room, just leaving a gentle glow, enough to be able to see what he was doing. He hadn’t planned on going to bed at 7:00pm, yet he knew Bella needed the comfort, and he was happy to give it to her. You were already sat at your side of the bed, more than happy to join in on the early night.

“Hi, you, come here.” You hold your arms out towards her, cuddling her against your chest as she yawns. Her eyes don’t leave Luke — watching to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere, that he wasn’t leaving. She’s warm in your arms, her cheeks flushed from the fever, eyes heavy from being tired even though she spent most of the afternoon sleeping in Luke’s arms.

Bella waits until Luke climbs under the warm duvet at the other side of the bed, before she pushes away from your chest and crawls in between the two of you. She rests her head on Luke’s shoulder, her legs splayed out diagonally — little toes pressed against your arm as she gets comfortable. Luke makes sure she has her dog and blanket close to her. She rubs her face against the soft material, finding the sensation soothing.

“You should go and take a shower, babe.” You whisper to Luke, noticing how Bella’s eyes had finally closed and she was drifting off to sleep. Luke looked almost as tired as Bella. He had held her all day, been at her side and let her nap on him without a break. “You’ve had her all day. She’s nearly asleep anyway.”

“I don’t want to move her.” Luke replies, although a shower does sound like a nice idea. He wasn’t complaining that Bella had been poorly, and he loves taking care of her — it just takes a lot out of him too. “Do you think she’ll stay asleep?”

“I got her,” You whisper, gently moving her so she’s resting in the cradle of your arm, against your shoulder. Luke slips out from the bed, waiting for a moment until he knows Bella has settled down again. “Go, babe.”

Luke manages to get himself into the bathroom and turn on the shower until Bella realises he’s not there anymore. She sits up from your arms, looking to Luke’s side of the bed to see where he’s gone — a cry slips from her lips when he’s no longer there.

“He’s just in the shower, Bella.” You reassure her, rubbing her back gently as she cries for him, trying to coax her to lay down again. “He’ll be right back. Come here, it’s okay.”

“Come back?” She asks, looking up at you with teary eyes. Her skin is still hot to touch, and she nuzzles into your shoulder when she lays down again, your skin slightly cooler than hers.

“Yeah, he’ll be right back.” You promise, fingers dancing up and down her back lightly to calm her down. You sit together for a few moments more, until you hear the shower shut off, and Luke humming quietly as he heads down the hallway, back to your bedroom.

“Look who’s awake again,” Luke calls out, spotting Bella sat up in the middle of the bed, her eyes immediately lighting up when she sees him. “Were you not having a good sleep? I know you don’t feel good.”

“Hug.” She whines sadly, her fingers spread out as she makes a grabby motion, not stopping until Luke scoops her up and cuddles her against his body.

“I’m right here.” He reassures her, swaying with her in his arms for a moment as she clings to him. He climbs back into the bed next to you, letting her cuddle up to him, her face pressed against his neck as you tuck the duvet around them. “My little cuddle bug.”

“Night night?” She asks, usually the phrase she uses when she’s about to go to sleep. Luke smiles at her sweetness, resting his cheek on top of her head as her eyes begin to flutter again.

“Yeah, get some sleep baby. Good night, we love you.” He murmurs, stroking up and down her back, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of her neck as she falls asleep. His own eyes are heavy with tiredness, but as long as Bella is comfortable for the moment — that’s all he wants.

***

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honney-boy · 4 years

Text

Best Thing You Never Had (part one)

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x Reader ,

Reader x Topper Thornton

gif by→ @sci-fi

WORD COUNT: 5.7k+

Summary: You're dating Topper; lately the relationship has been a bit rocky but you guys can get through it right? You also meet the pogues, and begin hanging out with them, especially JJ when the others weren't around. Being around both boys makes your head spin, and as it turns out, they're both the best thing you never had.

Warning: fluff, angst-ish, underage-smoking + drinking, mentions of implied smut

Request: yes by @jjxobx

A/N: Sorry again for taken so long to get this up but here it is! I got carried away and ended up splitting this request into a couple of parts.

if you want to be tagged in any of my work, send me an ask or message me! taglist is at the bottom of the fic :)

The sun sat high and bright in the sky. Blue skies with a gentle breeze, but it felt like a hotbox. Your dark sunglasses shielded your eyes from the bright light, but even with your tank top and denim shorts, the rays still heated your skin, leaving it warm and sticky.

Unamused and bored, you sat on the short rough grass of the golf course at the Island Inn Resort. Home and the heart of the country club, your parents insisted on paying a lot of money for memberships just for four people. The place wasn’t all that bad; there were plenty of things you could do. There was a tennis court, a pool, a gym, and other group activities. Still, some members embraced the stereotype of the luxurious lifestyle, flaunting the money, and being snooty. Some members had kids you went to school with, and you hated them just as much as their parents even though all your parents were friends.

You really shouldn't have come with him, or the other things you did with him after the fight you two had last night. It was another stupid fight that started out as a playful banter when he was taking you home. It escalated to the two of you yelling at the top of your lungs once someone said the wrong thing that got the other irritated, you getting out the car and deciding to walk yourself home. That didn't settle with him either. He ended up convincing you to get back in the car - really your feet were beginning to hurt - and took you home where he came in, and you two spent the next two hours forgetting about what you were fighting about.

You let your head fall back, and a sigh left your lips while closing your eyes and listened to what was around you. You could hear the water splashing along the shore, a little chatter from others on the course in different areas, and the frequent smack of a golf club hitting the hard rubber ball across the green. You wanted to be anywhere than here right now. You wanted to have a beach day and hang out by the water. Even hanging in your pool sounded nice, but you were being a nice girlfriend and came to the country club because your boyfriend asked you too.

He could pretend that the fight didn't happen, but you were over his recent nitpicking.

The sound of little laughter pulled you back and drew your attention away from the sun.

"Hey babe, this one is for you," Topper said, pointing a finger at you and his face serious. Rafe rolls his eyes while standing next to him and mimics Topper with a different pitched voice.

"" Hey babe, this one is for you." don't dedicate an air shot to her," Rafe said, walking around Topper so he could get a better view of where his putt would go. Topper scoffs, shaking his head at his friend, but decides to not pay him much attention as he turns to look at you again. Though he could see your face, he couldn't see your eyes past your dark sunglasses, which means he didn't catch your eye roll. You held your hand up, hiking your thumb, and adding a smile to show you heard him and appreciated the gesture. But to top it all off, you cheered him on.

"You got this, babe! Hit the ball in the hole for me," Your words seemed to brighten Topper's spirit before he turned around. Rafe snickered at your lack of knowledge with golfing terms, but he knew you didn't really care too much for it. Topper fixes his posture, positions his feet shoulder lengths apart, relaxes his body, and concentrates on the ball for a few seconds before swinging his club. The hit sent the ball a few feet in the air, landing on the ground with a few bounces then rolling the rest of the way to the hole. All three eyes watched the ball slowly draw closer to the hole, catching the edge and circling its shape a few times before finally landing in the cup.

"Ha eat that." overjoyed, Topper threw his hands in the air, a grin set on his lips as he looked from you to Rafe.

"Yeah, yeah, nice back door putt, but I can do better."

"Okay hotshot, I want to see you try."

"Alright then, let's move on up so I can show you how much better at golf I am than you." Rafe grabbed his bag containing his other clubs and balls, leading the way to the next part of the course. Topper doing the same, took ahold of his stuff but made his way over to you and held out his hand. You graciously take his hand, letting him help you off of the ground. You felt his fingers lace through yours as he pulled you both in the direction of Rafe.

He turned his head to look at you, "Did you see that play?" he asked you, and you smiled, pulling yourself closer to him and nodded. "For a minute, I thought the ball would decide not to go in—you know you should let me teach you how to play."

"I don't golf, tennis is more my sport," you say. You reach for your glasses and lift them to sit on your head; you glance at Topper, seeing him still look at you smiling.

"I know you don't, but I still want to teach you," You arched a brow giving him a hesitant look but still shook your head lightly. "Oh come on, Y/n, don't you trust me? I promise I won't set you up for failure." He gave you a little nudge with his shoulders, hoping to win you over. You knew that if you didn't at least let him try, he would be bugging you about it for the rest of the afternoon, and you surely wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, not like you were anyway.

"Fine, you can teach me your golfing ways," you reluctantly agree. Here you go deciding to do something with Topper again even though you should be mad at him, but you were irritated with yourself that you gave in to him quickly. Topper grinned even more at you.

"You'll be learning from the best," you force another smile on your face, and the two of you walk across the fairway to the next tee. Since Rafe walked ahead of you guys, he made it to the next tee and began setting up for his turn. You were too focused on getting to the next area that you didn't notice that Topper stopped; you only figured that out when you got pulled back with your hand still entangled with his.

You glance back at him, the grin on his face is gone, and his cheery mood is replaced with a serious one. "What's wrong with you?" he asks and pulls you closer to him. "I know there's something up, so don't say there isn't anything wrong." He knew you too well, you couldn't say he never paid attention.

"Nothing is wrong-" he gives you a look, but you continue. "-it's just a bit hot out today." you shrug your shoulders half-heartedly and pull his hand to get him to start walking again. "Come on, let's not have Rafe wait on us all day." He didn't budge, his eyes were still set on you.

"Is it because of the fight we had? I thought we were past that, we made up," You turn away from him, wanting to drop his hand but you didn't. You took a deep breath, faced him again, and shook your head.

"I know we made up Topper, it's not that," you answer and tug on his hand once more, and this time he did move, so you took that as a sign to continue walking to where Rafe was.

"Then what is it? I can tell something is bothering you, we've been together for a while. You gotta give me more credit than that."

"I know that that's why I see no point in lying to you," You see Rafe almost done setting up for his next turn, which ushered you to pick up your guy's pace. "So please believe me when I say there's nothing wrong." Topper stopped in his tracks, which caused you to stop once again. You whipped around, ready to snap at him for not believing you and keeping up with his stubbornness, you saw it in his face, but his words threw you off.

"Okay, I believe you," He meant it, and you knew it, though his eyes said something else, you knew he was sincere with his words. "I'm sorry."

You stepped closer to him and stood up, kissing his cheek. You flashed a smile once you stepped back. Topper smiled back, it was almost sweet, but when his hands wrapped around your arms, it stopped you from dwelling. And then he kissed you.

"Hey, you two, we're supposed to be golfing, not sucking each other's faces off." Rafe sounded a bit annoyed, but you both knew he didn't give a shit.

You pulled away first, patting Topper's bicep and stepping back. "Well, you have a bet to foresee and some lessons to teach." He held your gaze for a split second, nodded his head and walked over to Rafe, and stood next to him.

Rafe was right, he did better than Topper, and he wasn't going to hear the end of it. You knew you wouldn't either, along with the future constant complaining of your boyfriend. But now, it was your turn at attempting to be a golfer.

"Alright, it's pretty easy. Just uh, line up to your target..." Topper took his club—shifting on both of his feet to get into his stance. He glanced up at you for a second and then focused back down on the club. "Nice, easy backswing." moving his arms a bit, he tapped the ball twice with the club, and the third time he went full swing and hit the ball. You both watch the ball fly in the air, bounce a few times, and roll into the hole. "And voila. That's the basics of the swing."

You ready yourself by grabbing a ball - Topper had already gotten you a club - and kept repeating Topper's instructions in your head. Line up to your target, Was his feet shoulders width apart or just a little bit? You stood where he had lined your ball, standing on the same side of the ball you saw him stand and with a deep breath, you tried your best to remember his instructions and went for it. You swung at the club and felt the melt slip right through your fingers.

You wince seeing it land some feet away, turning to look at Topper, the corners of your mouth turn down with a pout. "Did you see that I suck." Topper smiled, finding your pouting state cute, it even brightened his poor mood.

Shaking his head, he grabbed another club by Rafe - who had a massive grin on his face at your feeble attempt, he and you both knew he would tease you about it later - handed it to you. "No, you're new to this, it'll take some practice, I promise you'll get better," he says.

"I highly doubt that this is why I play tennis."

"Yeah, and I like watching you play," he said with a smirk and moved to stand behind you. You began situating yourself - rolling your eyes at your boyfriend and his boyish ways.

"You only like to look at me with a tennis skirt on." You said in a matter of fact tone, which made his smirk grow.

"Hey, what can I say, my girl looks good in a skirt," you playfully huff at his comment; you stood in your previous stan, lining the club with the ball ready to swing but hands on your hips distract you.

"Hands to yourself, Thorton."

"I'm not trying anything," he says through an airy chuckle. "I'm helping you fix your stance." His hands stayed on your hips as he got closer to you; close enough, you could practically feel his body heat. He put his left leg in between yours and used his foot to spread your feet apart. "It helps if your feet our about shoulders widths apart,"

"Shoulders width apart, got it." Topper moved his arms around you until his hands were on top of your own gripping the club. Not only was your back to his chest, but you could feel his breath against your neck; when he spoke to you, you shivered as a chill went down your spine.

"You're gonna want to look at your target first. Imagine the ball going toward it till it lands - or rolls - into it," all you could do was nod as you gazed at the hole. "Then look at your ball-" your eyes quickly move down to the highlighter yellow rubber ball at your feet. "-take a deep breath while your mind imagines you making a putt. What I like to do is take my club and ready my swing with small taps on the ball." Topper, with his hands on yours, moved yours back a bit and then forward to tap the ball, he did it two more times before he spoke again. "After taking a deep breath, I relax and give my club a full swing like so," He pulled your arms back a bit further this time, and you both swung your arms forward, only missing the ball since he was simulating how it should go. "Think you got it this time?" he asked, moving his arms from around you but kept his hands on you.

"Yeah, think so," you mumbled, and he took a step back.

"Alright, let's see what you got."

You loosen up a bit, keeping your feet shoulders width apart and took a deep breath. You had this, if you made it, maybe you wouldn't have to play golf with them. You look over your shoulder at the boys, both of them waiting for you. Rafe looked like he wanted you to hurry up, and Topper just sent you a smile, which you returned. Turning back, you eyed the hole, imagined the ball flying in the air, and then rolled until it fell into the hole. You looked at the ball, doing what Topper did - tapping the ball three times with the club - and then when you got ready to swing, you drew back your arm and swung as hard as you could, keeping the grip you had on the club.

"Holy shit Top, Y/N did better than you!"

You get out of the car, grab your bag you had packed, and walk toward the water. You scan the beach - hand held up to your eyes, blocking the sun - looking for your bubbly blonde friend. You catch her running out of the water, being chased by a guy with a severe tan and shaggy brown hair - that had to be John B, the guy you hear so much about. You smile, watching him wrap his arms around her waist, making her laugh with the biggest smile on her face. You didn't want to ruin their moment, but she was expecting you to come.

After hitting a 'perfect putt' as Rafe referred to it as you were super proud of yourself that you couldn't help but tease your boyfriend about being better. He called it beginners luck, he was just too bitter about it, but you didn't care. At some point, while the boys were playing, Sarah sent you a text asking you to come to hang out with her and a few others at the beach. You gladly accepted the invitation and let Topper and Rafe know you were going to go see Sarah. Rafe didn't care, and if Topper did, he didn't voice it or show it. He told you to have fun, be safe, and gave you a kiss on the cheek before you left. You headed to your house first to grab a suit just in case. When you get to the beach, you see a handful of people scattered along the sand and in the water. At first, when you left Topper, you felt bad because he wanted to spend time with you. It was sweet of him, but you know he's only kissing butt because he was trying to get you to not be mad at him, but leaving the club and coming to the beach was the right decision.

"Hey Sarah," you called out to her. You pulled the attention of a few people on the beach, but she didn't seem to hear you, so you cupped your hand around your mouth and called her name again a little louder. "Sarah!" She turned away from John B, her eyebrows pulled together as she looked around. You wave your arms around, which finally grabbed her attention; she pulled away from John B, said something quickly to him, and ran toward you.

"You made it!" she beamed and pulled you into a tight hug. "I thought Topper would never let you go," You give her a squeeze and pull away enough that just your arm is around her waist, and she left an arm around your shoulders; you didn't really care if she got you wet.

"He almost didn't. After that fight last night, he hasn't really let me leave his side,"

"Now you see why I left him," You gave her a side glance, one she missed while waving toward the group of people a few feet away around what looked to be an unlit fire pit in the sand. "Hey guys, this is y/n, the friend I was talking about. Y/n this is the gang, Pope and Kiara," she gestured to a guy with a tan hat that sat backward on top of his head. Though he was sitting down, you could guess that he was a decent height - taller than you, of course - his skin was dark brown, and he was toned. Then she moved to the girl that sat next to him, Kiara. She had long wavy dark hair; her skin was a strong brown-red that was sun-kissed and warm. Kiara gave you a small smile while Pope gave you a little wave. "And John B, you already know." John B took two of his fingers and gave you a salute.

You met John B a while back when you went to bother Sarah when you were bored and didn't want to be bothered by Topper. When you got to her house, the one place you knew she would be - if not outside - was in her room. What you didn't expect to see was a pair of broad shoulders hovering over your really good friend's small frame. It was awkward, to say the least.

Your eyes move over to the last person she hadn't introduced yet. He had sandy blonde hair, a hat on his head backward like Pope, his skin sun-kissed like Kiara and a pair of sunglasses to top off the surfer boy vibe he was giving. Even with the sunglasses on, you could feel his eyes on you, and his gaze was almost intimidating. "And this is JJ." Sarah finished. You could finally put a name to the face, but as soon as his name fell from her lips, he moved his attention to the ocean. It bothered you when it shouldn't have, but you hated when others weren't polite.

You just smile, keeping your arms crossed. "It's nice to meet you guys; hope I'm not intruding your hang out."

"Oh, no, you're not intruding. The more, the merrier," Kiara said. "Don't just stand there, come sit with us, we don't bite." She waved you over, scooting away from Pope to make room from you, which you thanked her with a smile.

"JJ might," Pope jokes, JJ tilts his head back, probably rolling his eyes.

"Haha, funny. Better watch it before I bite you,"

"Oh, kinky," Sarah teased.

"Bet that does get a rise out of you." John B added with a snicker.

"Bet that does for you too; you and Sarah don't hide those hickies very well. That bandana isn't fooling anyone." Pope and Kiara let out a course of 'ohs' and Pope whistled, and you joined in with a muffled laugh covered by your hand.

You guys carry on with the conversation, all light-hearted and entertaining, staying on a topic no longer than ten minutes, not counting the 30-minute discussion about if F.r.i.e.n.d.s or That 70s Show was better. You liked That 70s show the most, and Pope agreed with you while Sarah, John B, and Kiara loved F.r.i.e.n.d.s, and JJ liked both shows. You liked hanging with pogues, you could finally see why Sarah liked them too. They kept you in the conversations, easing the awkwardness at the beginning; you were chiming in. That's what it seemed like, and you hoped you were. Even though you were included in the conversations—every once in a while, Kiara would say something to you, Pope would ask you a question. John B would ask for your opinion, and Sarah answered for you sometimes—it didn't take you long to figure out JJ hadn't said anything to you. He just chimed in when it seemed best, laughed when something funny was said, but he didn't ask you questions or ask for your opinion. You usually didn't mind if someone never said anything, but that made you feel weird after it came to your attention, it was like JJ chose not to say anything. When you did speak, you'd see from your peripheral that he was looking at you, you even caught his gaze, but he always averted his eyes.

You guys had been talking and hanging out for a few hours, and you knew that because the sun had set and the moon began to slowly rise in the sky. At some point, Pope had gotten up and lit the small bonfire you guys sat around, and like the other times before, the topic had changed.

Through some laughs over something dumb, JJ said, Kiara took a drink of one of the beers passed to her. After her laughter died down a bit, she asked everyone: "Okay, okay, so if anyone of you were on Fantasy Island, what would be your fantasies?" It was definitely an interesting question, and one you - all of you had to think about. Sarah decided she would go first, immediately, piping up with her fantasy.

"If I were on the island, I would wish for my future home to be an animal rescue. I'd live by the water, saving baby turtles and sea life with my rescue dogs running around enjoying their life."

"That's so cute, I can see you doing that in real life anyway. Make it a reality Sarah," you say, and some of the others nodded their head agreeing with you. John B pulled Sarah closer in his side, kissing her on her forehead and mumbling something to her, which caused her to smile. After Sarah, it ended up being Pope's turn, and his fantasy was to be a successful man, and with that success, he wanted to take care of the people he loved. He would get his parents a house in the figure eight - Pope knew his dad would never leave the island he was born and raised on - he would pay their bills, and the rest would go toward black-owned businesses that need it.

John B wanted his own boat business where he built and repaired boats for others or sell. On top of that, he would have a little surf shop where he crafted surfboards for tourons to rent, or for the ones who wanted to get their own. "I want everyone who gets a board for me to have a great experience, and if someone is buying their first—ever surfboard, I want to be the one to give them their first."

Kiara wanted to live through her favorite decades. Experience the music, styles, compelling, and peace movements of the '60s and '70s. Live through the time where iconic musicians like Freddie Mercury, Mariah Carey, TLC, Tupac, Micahel Jackson, Aaliyah, and more were in their prime. But if she had another choice, she wouldn't mind being the first woman and woman of color president. You loved both of their fantasies, they were empowering and selfless. Both Kiara and Pope, even Sarah, wanted to make the world a better place or live through experiences that haven't lived before. Heck even John B wanted to make an impact. Their fantasies put yours to shame, they could turn theirs into a reality.

When it was finally your turn, you didn't answer right away, and to the others, you looked like you were still thinking about your fantasy, but you already knew it. Your fantasy was a bit silly, but maybe you could think of a cover like a self-owned business idea like John B's. Or a world and local changing influence like Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. "Well, this may sound weird, but it's a fantasy right, so who cares," you started off, lifting your shoulders in a shrug. "If I were on Fantasy Island, I would bring back my childhood best friend Chewie; he was the family dog. Chewie and I would live on an island in Greece where everyone knew each other, loved each other, sang and danced their hearts out." Hearing yourself describe your fantasy caused you to laugh as if it were a real fantasy. "Basically, I'd live with my dead—but an alive dog in the movie Mamma Mia."

Kiara tilted her head with a thoughtful look. "That is definitely one fantasy, but i really like its sound." she pulled her lips into a grin, laughing softly and slightly buzzed. Some time ago, JJ had lit a blunt, and it was being passed around.

You smile and shake your head at Kiara, you agreed with her, you had one hell of a fantasy, but it's something you always wanted. Sarah joined in and giggled along with Kiara. She leaned forward, passing the blunt to JJ, then laid her head back on John B's shoulder. "I miss Chewbacca, he was a good pup," she mentioned, her words making you smile more significant, and you couldn't agree more.

"You are right about that."

"Wait, you named your dog after a Star Wars character?" John B questions; you nod and from the corner of your vision, JJ offering the blunt to Pope but, he shook his head. JJ just shrugged and took another few hits of it.

Still looking at John B, you answer: "Yeah, my dad and older brother are huge Star Wars fans, and they got me hooked on it at a young age. Chewie was a big dog with curly brown hair like Chewie, and at four years old, he looked like the Wookie copilot. Can you really blame me?"

John B chuckled and shook his head. "I guess I really can't."

JJ leaned forward, already knowing it was his turn to speak. He inhaled the smoke of the blunt and held it out for you and tilted his head toward it. "Wanna take a hit?" You looked at him with round eyes, caught off guard by him, finally saying something to you. But just as quick as it happened, you blinked a few times and reached for it only for him to pull it from you. "Have you ever smoked?" You wanted to roll your eyes

"Yes, I've smoked before JJ," you replied, with an unamused face. "Now, give it here."

Huffing out a short laugh, JJ let you take hold of the blunt. "Alright, chill out, no need to get serious and demanding." He was shocked that you have actually smoked. Sarah mentions you here and there when she was around them and not once had anything she said about you hinted at such actions. You were good, you weren't rebellious like Sarah or outspoken; JJ assumed you were a goodie two shoes, and he still thinks it. Maybe you could change his mind. He watched you place the blunt to your lips, draw in the smoke, then take a deep breath to let it take over your lungs.

He tore his eyes away before you looked at him, and when he looked at the others, they two were impressed at how well you handled it. You hadn't choked like Sarah did her first time. "Let's see, if I were on Fantasy Island and granted a fantasy, I'd want unlimited days to chill with my friends and have tons of Mary Jane, beer, and some waves. Probably use some of that time to find my true self, do some more things I love, learn something new, fall in love if it comes," he lifted his shoulders in a half shrug and sat forward on his elbows. "That's all."

"And what if something goes wrong like John B goes crazy and has black gooey crap come out of his eyes because, I don't know, he went crazy." Pope picked at the fire with a stick he found while gathering wood earlier in the day. Pope had a good point. Fantasy Island was known for its fantasy granting and the dark and twisted reality that comes out of it.

"I'll throw 'em in the water, problem solved," JJ replied, as you passed to Kiara.

"Here, Kie."

"Well, if he comes at you with a weapon, would you still throw him in the water?" Pope asked.

"Duh, and I'd run, it's a basic human instinct," JJ said like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. All those horror movies you've seen only supported his answer; all the people seemed to stay and try to figure out what the noise was or trip on thin air, giving the killer a chance to get them.

"JJ does have a point," John B Spoke. Clapping his hands together, he threw in another question for the group to go around and answer. "Alright, in your opinion, what's the best pizza topping slash pizza?"

Sarah's expression lit up at the question. "Good pizza, that's the best pizza."

"That doesn't answer the question, Sarah."

"She's stoned, let her be, "Kiara said through a chuckle. "Hmm, to me, the best pizza is veggie pizza."

John B shook his head "Veggie pizza is alright but not the best. The best topping is cheese." JJ made a disgusted face, one John B frowned at because he noticed. Pointing at him, he says: "Dude, I'm telling you, the best pizza is cheese pizza."

JJ scoffed, clearly not liking his friend's choice. "John B shut the hell up, cheese is the most disgusting flavor of pizza ever,"

"Well, without cheese, is it really pizza?" Kiara wondered aloud, causing you and Sarah to giggle at the thought.

"Whatever," JJ brushed you guys off. "We all know the best pizza is pepperoni pizza." you pretend to gag. To add dramatics, you lean forward as if contents we're coming out onto the ground. You earned an eye roll from the blonde and giggles from Kiara and Sarah, even a soft chuckle from Pope.

"For a dude that smokes, you have horrible taste."

He frowned, offended by what you said, "What is that supposed to mean? I have an amazing taste."

"It means your taste is bad once you're high. I don't know about you, but when I have the munchies, I mix stuff that tastes amazing. Like for example, the best pizza, Hawaiian." JJ's face scrunched up; Pope thought about it but ultimately agreed with you that Hawaiian was a good type of pizza, he wouldn't say it was the best, but he had his opinions, and you had yours.

"Never had Hawaiian, you'll have to introduce it to me, "Kiara confessed while gazing into the fire until she peeped up at you. You grinned and nodded already planning possible days for you two–even Sarah–to meet up and hang out so you can make them your homemade Hawaiian pizza.

"Definitely! Just let me know when and we can plan a hangout."

John B cut in, letting his thoughts out. "I think I tried it once...I don't think I liked it."

"Yeah, you did, I was there, and you kept throwing pineapple at me—which by the way, pineapples do belong on pizza." You all grew at JJ's response, Pope even pretended to hold back hurl.

"JJ, man, just stop."

"I agree with Pope and acknowledge my previous statement: "For a dude that smokes, you have a horrible taste"." You say to the blonde boy across from you.

"You don't even know me, so how would you know what my taste is?" Whether he meant it to sound the way it did, you didn't miss the irritation in his voice. You were only joking, but you guess he took it to heart. Before you could say something else, John B leaned forward, tapping JJ on the arm, gesturing to the blunt before speaking up.

"Chill JJ, no need to be hostile, this is supposed to be an enjoyable hangout, just enjoy it, "JJ grumbled something you couldn't really hear from where you sat, but you didn't make a fuss about it. He just sat back in one of the fold chairs the group brought and took the blunt back from John B, smoking the rest. For the rest of the night, you guys continued talking and laughing, even going for a swim in the water. You liked hanging with the pogues, and you also admitted it to Sarah when you dropped her off at home after you guys were done hanging out. She even asked what you thought of everyone–disregarding John B because you had already met him–and you weren't lying when you said you enjoyed their company, you would totally hang with them again if you could, and they didn't mind. You knew right, then Kiara would be a close girl friend like Sarah, and the boys would be like brothers, but when it came to JJ, your mind wondered. You wanted to know more about him, you weren't sure why but that boy intrigued you.

Taglist :)

#outer banks imagine #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x y/n #jj imagine #kiara carrera #topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #topper thorton imagine #pope heyward #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #pogues x reader #obx pogues

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bedlamsbard · 4 years

Text

Part 8 of the other side AU! No, this isn’t the final section; at this point I’m afraid to say that there’s one more since I think I’ve said that the last three times.

Previous: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

6.8K below the break. Please note that I don’t warn.

***

“Kanan.”

His smile when he raised his head to her was automatic, lingering on his lips before he seemed to grasp the seriousness of her tone.

He was so handsome it took her breath away, and he was here, he was here. Hera flattened her palms against the door behind her and said his name again, just for the sake of saying it and not immediately wanting to weep. “Kanan,” she breathed.

He took a step towards her, reaching for her hands before stopping when she didn’t reach back. “What is it?”

Hera had spent the day with the other Hera and her family, which had been just as odd an experience as the previous day’s – just as emotionally fraught, because her little cousin Xiaan had been there too, and the last time Hera had spoken to Xiaan she had just moved into her new dormitory at the University of Alderaan, with a few of their cousins along to visit. All of them had been there when the Death Star had destroyed the planet. Not here, she thought. That won’t happen here. She was certain of that now. Bail Organa had the Death Star plans, and the circumstances meant that Xiaan Syndulla wouldn’t be going to university anytime in the foreseeable future. What had happened to Doriah and Xiaan – and presumably to the rest of her missing first cousins – in this universe was terrible, but at least they were still here and alive. She understood why Doriah had been so upset to hear that she had a half-human child, too.

She looked up at that child’s father and smiled, drinking in the sight of him. He was beautiful, still the most handsome man she had ever seen even with his younger counterpart to compare him with. “I love you,” she said..

Kanan smiled a little, crookedly. “I love you too.”

“Will you go to bed with me?”

He curved his palm gently against her cheek, and Hera smiled up at him. His hand was big, and warm, and very alive, the calluses from lightsaber and blaster use still half-familiar after all these years. “Yes,” he said gently, and kissed her.

Hera put her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. “I haven’t done this for a very long time,” she murmured.

“None of those rebel heroes wanted to comfort a beautiful widow?” Kanan asked, only a very slight hint of strain in his voice.

“Well, Lando Calrissian offered,” Hera said, and had to laugh a little at the expression on Kanan’s face. She kissed him again and said, “You know I’ve never been interested in anyone except you.”

Which was why it had been so much of a shock the first time. There had been people that Hera had found attractive, but even years later Kanan was still the only person, male, female, or any other gender, that she had ever wanted enough to act on it.

Kanan kissed her again, the stubble on his jaw scraping against her skin. Hera kissed him back, trying to get her jacket off at the same time and mostly just succeeding at getting her arms caught in the sleeves. “Wait –”

She stepped back until she could untangle herself from her jacket and hang it up. She took her gunbelt off after that, even though the holster was empty since the other Hera and Kanan still hadn’t returned her blaster and Hera hadn’t had a reason to ask.

“I could have terrible scars,” she said slyly, and saw Kanan raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve told you to stop crashing starfighters.”

“I’ve never crashed that many,” Hera said. “I mostly don’t fly combat anymore – I command shipside.” She shrugged as Kanan raised an eyebrow. “I also ran one of the pilot training centers for a while, when I went back to duty after Jacen was born, so I wouldn’t be in combat.” She hesitated for a moment, uncertain if Kanan would take offense at the fact that she had gone back to duty at all after having a child, but all he did was nod.

“Well, I hope you weren’t crashing those ships.”

Hera laughed and stepped up to kiss him again. “I wasn’t the one crashing ships. I had to keep taking over them on remote because some of those recruits had a little more enthusiasm than skill.”

“Mmm, sounds like someone I know.”

“You had better be talking about someone who wasn’t planning on taking her clothes off in the next five minutes,” Hera teased.

He winked solemnly at her. “I know a lot of bad pilots, but none of them are in this room.”

“Modest, aren’t we?” Hera caught his hands in hers and guided them to her waist. “Speaking of taking my clothes off…”

He grinned and kissed her again, tugging her shirttails free of her pants. “Well, if you’re going to be pushy about it, I guess I could help.”

Hera shivered a little as his fingers skated over her bared skin. She didn’t hate being touched the way she could tell the other Hera did, but she wasn’t accustomed to it anymore either. As it happened Lando had propositioned her, using almost that exact phrasing, but it had been good-natured and no more than half-serious. He would have taken her up on it if she had said yes, but hadn’t been bothered that she had said no, just gotten her a drink and talked with her about some ideas he had for adapting pod-racing to Bespin before Han and Leia had called him away with a better offer.

She put her hands up to cup around Kanan’s face as he started to bend his head to her shoulder, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones. He raised his head to her, smiling, and Hera said, “I love you. You – you believe me, don’t you?”

Kanan laid his hand alongside her cheek and said gravely, “I always knew.”

Hera shut her eyes, then opened them again because she couldn’t bear to not be looking at him as long as he was here. “I made a mistake, not telling you before.”

“Hera –”

“I love you,” she said again. “I need you to know that, Kanan, I love you, I love you, I love –”

He kissed her. “I know,” he said against her mouth, the words humming against her lips. “I always knew. I’m sorry if I made you think I didn’t.”

Hera was crying softly; she wasn’t even aware of starting, just that there were tears running silently down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. “I’m love you, I’m sorry, I love you –”

Kanan kissed her again, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “I know,” he murmured, “I always knew. It’s all right, Hera, I’m here now. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” she said furiously. She touched his face gently, reassuring herself that he was real, then put her arms around his neck again and drew him close to her. “I made you doubt me,” she said, low-voiced. “And then I never had a chance to make it up. I had to live with that.”

“I never doubted you,” Kanan told her. “Hera, I love you. I just –” He hesitated. “I don’t know what I wanted. I knew something was coming, and I didn’t know what it was, and I was afraid.”

“You knew we were running out of time.”

“No. Yes. No – I don’t know. It doesn’t work like that.” He tipped his forehead down against hers. “I’m here now. You did that. You did that.”

Hera folded her fingers against the back of his neck, shuddering, and whispered, “You’re here,” uncertain if she was trying to convince herself or telling Kanan a simple fact.

“I’m here,” he told her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise me,” Hera said, but shut her eyes, because she knew from his moment of hesitation that he couldn’t promise her that any more than she could promise him. “No, I know,” she corrected herself. This had been a nice vacation from reality – literally – but she was going back into a war and she was taking Kanan with her. And both of them knew exactly what that meant.

He kissed her gently. “I’m here now,” he repeated.

“I used to dream about you,” Hera whispered.

“You’ve got me.” He ran his thumb gently over the line of her cheek, brushing the tears away. “I’m here.”

Hera kissed him again. They were pressed so closely together that she could feel his heartbeat, and he was very warm and very alive in her arms. “I love you,” she whispered. “Will you take me to bed, please?”

“Yes.” He smiled down at her, then kissed her again as he dropped his hands to the front of her shirt.

Hera shifted back a little so that they had more maneuvering room and let go of him so that getting undressed would be slightly less complicated than staying tangled up together would be. She watched him as he undid the fastening on her shirt, shivering at the slight roughness of his callused fingers against her skin, and again as he drew his hands deliberately up across her stomach to her breasts. She was wearing her own bra, but had borrowed the shirt she was wearing from the other Hera in lieu of having brought a change of clothing; it hadn’t been on the list of things anyone had thought about back when they were planning this op.

“I remember this,” he said, his breath warm against her ear.

“I’d hope so, since for you it’s only been about a week and it wasn’t like you didn’t have a lot of experience with them before,” Hera said, grinning despite herself. She helped him get her shirt off, then unclasp her bra, which he did with what she considered a reasonable and enjoyable amount of generous groping. She kissed him in exchange for that, one arm looped around his neck, then laid her hands against the front of his borrowed shirt and smiled at him. “My turn.”

He grinned back at her.

His shirt was easier to get off than hers had been, and once Hera had stripped him out of it they spent a few more minutes kissing before they got down to the serious business of getting the rest of their clothes off.

Hera shifted a little uneasily once she was standing naked in front of him, both a little relieved and a little disappointed that he couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see the jagged scar that cut across the outside of her right thigh and halfway down to her knee, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was there, and he –

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she told him, resisting the urge to lick her lips. “Even with the hair,” she added gravely. “Between you and your – your counterpart, it’s growing on me.”

“Is his short too?” Kanan arched an eyebrow, amused. “Well, don’t expect it to stick around unless you want to help me keep it trimmed.”

“Anything to keep you from cutting it yourself again,” Hera said. She reached for his hands, shy, and then hesitated. It might have been only a few days for Kanan, but it had been six years for her.

Kanan stepped close to her, smiling, and Hera raised her face to him. He kissed her, lipping her mouth open slowly as Hera put an arm around his shoulders, feeling the muscles of his back flex beneath her palm. She shivered as he moved his mouth from hers to press a kiss to her jaw, then down the line of her throat. He put his hands against her waist to brace himself as he kissed his way down her collar bone, lingering on each breast and making her shudder before he continued downwards. He sank to his knees with boneless grace, his mouth still moving over her skin as Hera laced her fingers across the back of his skull, his cropped hair soft against her palms.

He kissed the faint, nearly-faded stretch marks on her belly, then the sharp edge of each hip bone. His hands brushed across her thighs, then paused on the scar. His white eyes shone through what Hera had always thought were absurdly long lashes for a man as he raised his head to her.

“What happened here?”

It took Hera a moment to remember how to speak. “My starfighter got shot up,” she admitted. “They had to cut me out of my X-wing.”

“I told you to stop crashing ships,” Kanan said gravely.

“It wasn’t a crash –” she started to say, then gasped as Kanan moved his mouth to the wet heat between her thighs. When Kanan finally leaned back, grinning, his mouth shining, Hera had to force herself to unclench her fingers, shuddering.

“I didn’t crash,” she managed to say. “I was teaching. One of my students shot me down. By accident.”

Kanan’s eyebrows climbed. “Even the Phoenix Squadron newbies know to check which way their guns are pointed before they pull the trigger.”

Hera fought down her pang of regret at the mention of Phoenix Squadron and tugged him to his feet, pulling him into another lingering kiss. “Lots of new recruits after Alderaan and Yavin,” she said after she drew back, breathing hard. “Not everyone has combat training, you know.”

He kissed her back. “Live rounds in training, though?”

“That goes for the mechanics too, but the cadets were supposed to be shooting at targets. That weren’t me.”

“I’d hope not.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and took another deep kiss from her as Hera put her arms around his neck. She felt pleasantly shivery in his arms, but nowhere near satisfied, not yet. She pressed her hips meaningfully against his, catching her lower lip briefly between her teeth as Kanan moved his hand down from her waist.

“For the record,” Hera breathed against his mouth, “I’m not having sex on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed, even if we have to go up a ladder to get to it.”

Kanan grinned, kissed her again, then drew back enough to take her hand in his. He led Hera across the small room to the bunk; Hera tried not to watch his backside in case she forgot what she had said two seconds ago and had him on the floor.

They went up the ladder with a great deal of giggling, kissing, and enough good-natured groping that Hera was gasping when she landed on her back on the narrow bunk. She put an arm around Kanan’s shoulders and pulled him down for another kiss. Kanan braced himself between her thighs, kissing her back.

“I missed you,” Hera said softly against his mouth. She needed him like she needed to breathe, shifting her hips as she tried to urge him to stop teasing her and get inside her. But she needed him to know this, too. She couldn’t tell him enough times. “I love you.”

She felt his lips curve in a smile against hers. “I love you too,” he murmured.

He curved a hand around each thigh and Hera hissed through her teeth, reaching down between them to help him one-handed. She felt rather than heard her low groan as he pressed into her, digging her nails into the hard muscle of his back. It had been a long time.

Kanan dropped his forehead briefly to her shoulder, breathing hard. For a few moments, neither of them moved, overwhelmed, then Kanan whispered, “All right?”

Hera shifted her hips a little and felt him breathe in sharply. “Yes,” she said, “yes – better than all right.”

He turned his head, meaning to kiss her neck. Hera caught his mouth with hers, hooking one foot over the back of his ankle as she did.

“Come on,” she gasped as they began to move together. “Come on, love –”

Her whole body was sensation. She let her attention still from its usual restless inventory of facts and figures, tactics and personnel, to nothing more than Kanan and his body against hers. He was a revelation, and she sank into him.

“I missed this,” Hera mumbled against Kanan’s neck sometime later. She felt too loose and relaxed to even raise her head enough to look at him, just let the words hum against his skin as he stroked a hand across the small of her back. She knew it didn’t matter whether or not he could hear them; he would know what she said anyway. “I missed you.”

“I love you too,” Kanan said. He sounded sleepy, but his voice was clear. His thumb moved in soothing circles across her skin, making Hera sigh with pleasure.

She could hear his heartbeat, feel his chest moving up and down with every breath. He felt solidly real, alive and beloved and there. “Kanan,” she said softly, just to feel his name in her mouth and know he would respond.

“Mmm?”

“Marry me.” It wasn’t what she had meant to say, but the words came out anyway. She pushed herself up on an elbow as Kanan went still, watching his face with a sudden start of panic that washed away her weariness.

He put a hand on her elbow to reassure her. “We’ve never talked about that,” he said, his voice quiet. He didn’t add that the last few times they had seen each other, he had been trying to convince her to talk about their relationship, though marriage had never come up.

Six years for her, a few weeks for him, Hera remembered, not for the first time. She sat up the rest of the way – it felt important to be sitting up for this conversation. Kanan pushed himself up too, taking her hands in his.

“Do you want to be married?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Hera said, though she took a minute to think about it first. Not about whether she meant it or not, because she did, but she knew Kanan wouldn’t appreciate a quick answer, not after the way they had left things six years ago. She squeezed his hands and said, “I love you. I want to be with you. I want to raise our child with you. Besides, the Alliance – the New Republic – has tax benefits for registered domestic partners.”

Kanan blinked. “Tax benefits? Since when do we pay –”

“New Republic, love, not just the Rebel Alliance anymore.”

He sighed. “That’s a real government, isn’t it.”

“That was the point of the whole rebellion,” she pointed out, her mouth quirking. She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “There’s a veteran’s pension too.”

“There are a lot of things that have changed.”

“A lot of things. Not everything.”

“No,” he agreed. He kissed her back, his mouth warm against hers. “Not everything.”

“I want to marry you,” Hera said again. “I want to be married to you. If – if you want –”

“Yes,” Kanan said. He kissed her again. “Yes.”

Hera put her arms around his neck. They went back down onto the bed together, Hera pressing Kanan down into the mattress as he smiled up at her. She kissed his mouth and murmured, “Do not knock me up again, I don’t have time to be pregnant right now.”

“All right,” he agreed gravely.

She smiled and kissed him again, running her hands down his bare chest. Kanan put an arm around her waist, flattening his palm against the small of her back.

“I love you,” Hera said again, the words humming against his lips. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

The next few days, waiting until they could return back to their own universe, were the closest Hera had come to a vacation in years. Even on her infrequent trips back to Lothal or Ryloth to see her son Hera was working, going over reports or on holocalls with other members of the Rebel Alliance. She couldn’t do any of that here except make lists that might or might not be relevant for this universe. She spent more time than she cared to admit in bed with Kanan, sometimes making love and sometimes just talking. It was very good to have someone she could just talk to again; as a flag officer she couldn’t confide in her subordinates and seldom had anyone else of her own rank around. While Zeb was sometimes around, mostly her old crew was somewhere else and Hera couldn’t talk to them just because she felt lonely. Kanan knew her – maybe he didn’t know her now, but he had known her then, and he was learning fast.

The Syndulla’s Gamble left for several rotations – Hera got the impression that they couldn’t be away from the Free Ryloth fleet for very long – then returned. Hera was able to introduce Kanan to both her parents, an experience that made her sheepishly nervous. They weren’t her parents, not really, but they were at the same time, and she wanted them to like Kanan and Kanan to like them. She was cautiously optimistic afterwards that it had gone well. Even if this Alecto Syndulla wasn’t her mother, she wanted her to like Kanan.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been so easy for her to relax considering the circumstances, but Hera had been in the war long enough and seen enough things – both strange and terrible – that now that the initial shock had worn off, she couldn’t bring herself to be much bothered. The other Hera and Kanan were pleasant enough, even if they both made Hera feel terribly old, and…she had Kanan. That was what she had wanted for a long time, and having him now was almost more than she could comprehend.

Their next to last night on the Ghost, the other Kanan woke them all up. Kanan felt the edges of the younger man’s nightmare bleeding into his own dreams, a welter of pain and terror and the durasteel strength of the Grand Inquisitor, and dragged himself to wakefulness a full minute before the other man started screaming.

Hera jerked awake beside him. Kanan forgot what bed he was in and fell the six feet from the top bunk to the floor, catching himself in a crouch that jarred every bone in his body and made him bite through his own lip. He stumbled out of the cabin and had a moment of blank confusion as he tried to remember which room he was in and which room the screaming was coming from. For a moment past and present seemed to blur together, the veil between universes slipping as he reached out with the Force to steady himself. He heard conversation from the direction of the common room, Zeb and Sabine teasing Ezra with Chopper’s occasional interjections, and smelled the familiar acridity of fresh paint from the room behind him – Sabine’s room. He shook his head and it was gone again; he crossed the hall and went one cabin over.

The other Kanan had already stopped screaming by the time the door slid open for him. He was curled into a knot on the far side of his bunk, his Hera leaning over him; she looked up as Kanan came in, but he didn’t. He felt her hesitate as he came towards him, then she scrambled off the bunk so that he could crouch down beside it. He was vaguely aware of Hera following him in, drawing the other woman aside.

Kanan could hear the younger man weeping, nearly soundless. He reached out with the Force before he followed through with an outstretched hand, feeling the other Kanan flinch away from him in both body and mind. For a moment he felt the other Kanan’s blind panic threatening to drag him down into his nightmare, the real world starting to fray away around him, then he drove himself down deep into the Force. He cast his mind out for an anchor, starting to reach for Hera before he sensed something else instead, something that would work better for this sort of thing. Kanan let the solid, familiar strength of the holocron hidden beneath the bed anchor him, distantly noting that to his senses it felt the same as his own had. Exactly the same, as if somehow the two were one as far as the Force was concerned. Only when he was certain he wasn’t going to lose himself did he feed himself into the other Kanan’s nightmare.

The boy’s terrified mind seized on him with so much strength that Kanan felt his tie to the holocron stretch under the unexpected strain before it finally settled into the weight.

He opened his eyes to bright sunlight.

If he had been in control of his body the shock of being able to see again would have made him hesitate if only for an instant, but he was a passenger in someone else’s nightmare. He was aware at once of the ache of recently cracked ribs, healed enough that he could move without difficulty aside from the occasional painful twinge if he turned too fast or tried to bend over at all. Pressure against his face took him by surprise, a hard mask covering nose and mask and sealing against the sides of his face; he felt the other Kanan’s weary familiarity and resignation, and the faint, constant pain where the edges wore away at his skin.

A hand closed on the back of his neck. Kanan’s mind flinched away but not his body; he didn’t have to look up to know that it was the Grand Inquisitor’s – the Hunter’s – hand on him. The Pau’an’s grip wasn’t hard enough to hurt, though all he would have had to do was squeeze and he could have shaken Kanan like a massiff with a pikobi. He could tell from the boy’s distant, barely comprehending misery that the Hunter had done just that before.

The complicated tangle of the boy’s conflicting emotions made his stomach turn over. There was hatred there, which Kanan had been braced for; there was also love, which he hadn’t been. He could sense the same ties of apprentice to master that he had felt before, stronger now from proximity, and still so fresh that the psychic wounds made by their creation had barely scabbed over.

It took him a moment to realize that they were breathing together, the other Kanan’s breath unnaturally slow for a human, in time with the Pau’an beside him, his heartbeat slowing to match his master’s. When the Hunter raised his head, Kanan looked too – not a beat behind, but at the exact same moment.

They were standing at the edge of a broad purplish-green expanse of manicured lawn. There was a big mansion behind them, but the two Inquisitors’ attention was on the large pavilion set up at the center of the lawn. The distant sounds of conversation, laughter, and music came from the pavilion.

The Hunter released him.

Any relief that Kanan might have felt was lost in the wave of bloodlust that went through him. He could tell, just barely, that it was external rather than internal; it felt a little like what he had read about what the Jedi called pack instinct, though usually that only appeared when there were a dozen or more Jedi – or Force-users, he supposed – intent on the same goal. He couldn’t tell if the boy was aware that it came from the Hunter rather than from inside himself; he couldn’t tell if the other Kanan cared. He supposed at this point it didn’t make a difference.

As the two Inquisitors started across the lawn, moving with the smooth, inhuman grace of trained Force-users, it struck him that it was entirely possible that that moment of bloodlust had only been a part of the other Kanan’s nightmare, not his memory.

They were at the entrance to the pavilion before anyone realized they were there. It was a trick that Kanan had never learned the knack of, a way of using the Force to suggest to any observers that what was seen was only what was expected. To the guards positioned outside the pavilion – their rich livery suggesting they were the private bodyguards of whoever owned the mansion behind them – it must have appeared as if the two Inquisitors had appeared out of thin air.

Kanan flung a hand aside, sending the two nearest guards flying as they started to reach for their weapons. He and the Hunter were moving in perfect lock-step as they entered the pavilion, the nearest occupants only just starting to turn and stare at them.

He wasn’t even aware of reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, just that it was suddenly in his hand, the gleaming red blade springing up before his eyes. The Hunter had his in hand as well.

Kanan had already known how fast a single Jedi, never mind two, could go through a troop of battle droids. He had never thought to wonder if a Jedi – a trained Force-user – could do the same through other human beings.

He found that out now.

He could feel the younger Kanan’s mind flinching away from the nightmare, from the memory. If he could have closed his eyes, he would have, but the boy had seen exactly what he had done, and Kanan did too. Real or imagined, the boy was trying to lose himself in the killing, to numb himself enough to stop thinking about it and just go on with it. Kanan was aware in a vague kind of way that it wasn’t the first time he had done something like this, nor would it be the last.

He flexed mental claws as if digging his feet into Lothal’s rich earth, feeling the strain of the holocron binding him to the real world. The kid was strong in the Force, as strong as Kanan – obviously, and his control slipped for an instant as he reminded himself of that. It wasn’t strength versus strength; it was the blind, panicked terror of the kid’s nightmares versus Kanan’s greater experience and control.

The kid fought him with the terror-strength of a cornered animal. The abattoir dissolved around them as the boy’s mental claws raked him, a hound’s teeth snapping before Kanan slapped him down with one paw in reflexive defense. He was only half aware of having taken this form in the Force, fitting himself into paws and claws and teeth so he wouldn’t be distracted by the knowledge of his own physical body. The kid had done the same, reflexive; shadowed and smaller than Kanan but with the air of a creature that would chew off its own limb to get out of a trap.

They tumbled through the Force, a half-acknowledged welter of memories and nightmares – mostly the kid’s, though he was aware of the shared horror of Order 66, of his friend Stance’s death, of being lost in the living dark beneath the Jedi Temple as a youngling. The other Kanan fled him, and Kanan might have let him go if they hadn’t already been tangled up in each other, so that he dragged Kanan behind him into the dark even as Kanan tried to free them both. His tie to the holocron flexed, but held; he was vaguely aware of Hera’s hands on his shoulders in the waking world before the kid caught him in what might have been a killing grip in the real world, his hound’s teeth closing on the back of Kanan’s neck, and they fell out of the Force into another nightmare.

Literally fell. The back of Kanan’s head connected with a hard surface beneath him, making his skull ring. He was half-aware of his counterpart fading into the waking nightmare of the memory, leaving him a passenger again.

He was so frightened.

Not him, he realized a moment later, but the boy – a little younger, with a splinted wrist, a bruised eye swollen nearly closed, and a newly split lip. Other injuries too, half-healed wounds, none more severe than the wrist in its splint. He flinched as a black-gloved hand closed around his throat and dragged him to his feet – really flinched, not just the reflexive mental flinch from before.

“Again,” said the Grand Inquisitor, releasing him.

Kanan took a staggered step back, rubbing at his bruised throat, but put his good hand out anyway and called his fallen lightsaber into it. It was an Inquisitor’s lightsaber, double-ended and with a curved half-moon guard. He must not have had it long; the kyber crystals in it hadn’t attuned to him yet.

The Grand Inquisitor – the Hunter, here – watched him with what might have been a smile on his pale features. Kanan wouldn’t look at him straight on, keeping his gaze slightly averted as he ignited one blade of the lightsaber and brought it up before him in a guard position.

The Hunter already had his lightsaber in hand, the blades deactivated at the moment. Kanan watched him through his good eye as he prowled sideways, the back of his neck tickling. He didn’t reach for the Force, no more than the subconscious knowledge of it that every Force-sensitive had, but that failed him this time; he turned to parry a blow that never came and the Hunter backhanded him hard enough to split his lip open again. Kanan staggered backwards, his mouth full of his own blood.

The Hunter caught him by the chin before he could recover, fingers digging into his skin. Kanan swallowed reflexively, gagging on blood, but all of his attention was on the Hunter’s cool yellow eyes. The confusing tangle of emotions that Kanan had felt in the boy earlier wasn’t there yet, not in full; the kid was terrified of him and hated him despite his best attempts not to fall prey to that, and there was a burgeoning hint of something that wasn’t love, not yet. The connection was already there, the tie that bound master and apprentice, and the kid knew it with despairing certainty.

“You are the Force made flesh,” said the Hunter, his voice soft and dangerous, and Kanan flinched at every word. “You earned your lightsaber on that truth. You gain nothing by denying it now.”

Kanan’s mouth worked silently.

The Pau’an looked at him for a long moment, his gaze boring into Kanan’s eyes, then he released him with a jerk. “Again,” he said.

The boy fumbled and nearly dropped his lightsaber, making the Hunter frown. He was shaking so badly that there didn’t seem to be much point in fighting the Hunter, but he ignited the blade and brought the weapon up anyway.

The Hunter just looked at him for a moment, his expression suggesting further disappointment, then he moved his hand and the lightsaber slipped free of Kanan’s fingers before he realized what was happening. Kanan flinched from him, wide-eyed, terror humming through his veins as the Hunter seized him again.

“A lightsaber is only a tool,” he said. “You are the weapon. We are the weapons.”

In the nightmare if not in reality the other Kanan’s terror was overwhelming, blanking out his awareness of everything around him. The numbness that had come later wasn’t present yet; he was all raw nerve endings, the shadow of the dark side scraping against him whether or not he reached for the Force. But already all of his attention was focused on the Hunter, his rapid, shallow breathing starting to slow to match the Hunter’s, his heartbeat doing the same. He wasn’t doing it consciously; Kanan was aware of the overwhelming pressure of the Hunter’s mind on his, forcing the master/padawan connection onto the open wounds left behind by Depa Billaba’s death.

Ezra, Kanan thought, with sharp, genuine fear that he felt reverberate down to the kid. He had never thought of the shattered connections left behind after Master Billaba’s untimely death as a vulnerability, never thought of them at all in the face of the horror that the Force had been after the Purge. Of course, he had never had anyone take advantage of it – had never even considered that that was a possibility. It was something only someone trained as a Jedi could or would have done.

The kid’s exhausted, all-encompassing terror was beginning to fade, too focused on the Hunter to sustain fear. It had an almost soporific effect on Kanan; he grabbed for the Force and pulled, lashing out with mental claws.

The Hunter vanished as the younger Kanan turned on him, his panic back in full force. Kanan reached for the holocron, meaning to drag them both back to reality, just as the boy flung himself at him. They tumbled through the Force in a welter of bad dreams and memories, into Kanan’s own private nightmare.

Flame roared up around him, heat pressing in from all sides, and he heard Hera scream.

His mind went blank with panic that he was vaguely aware he hadn’t felt at the time. He took one breath, two, heat searing his lungs –

– and the kid pulled him out.

Both of them hit the floor of the cabin, gasping for breath. Kanan threw himself sideways immediately, feeling the other Kanan’s momentary reaction to Kanan’s weight on top of him. His mind was still too scrambled from the succession of nightmares to concentrate on the Force; he heard rather than felt Hera scramble towards him, kneeling down beside him. He turned his face into the smooth warmth of her thigh, gasping for breath as she flattened her palms against his back.

The sound was mirrored by the younger Kanan’s ragged gasping. “Don’t do that again,” the boy said when he had caught his breath.

“Sorry,” Kanan said; the words came out muffled against Hera’s skin. He turned his head enough that he could speak clearly and repeated, “I’m sorry. I thought that would go differently.”

“Not your fault,” the kid said, a little stiffly.

“Love?” Hera whispered, stroking a hand over the back of his neck. “Are you all right?”

“Give me a moment.” He turned his face back into her thigh, breathing in her familiar scent – nothing at all like the acrid smell of burning fuel or the coppery tang of blood. He was vaguely aware of the other Hera doing the same with her Kanan, but didn’t make any attempt to listen.

“All right,” he said eventually, and let Hera help him up. He drew the Force around himself as he did, sensing the other Kanan still kneeling on the floor with his face buried in his Hera’s shoulder. Belatedly he released his tie to the holocron, and winced as he felt the boy flinch; he had sensed that. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Not half as sorry as I am.” The other Kanan’s voice was muffled. He felt Hera – the younger Hera – glare at him, and winced.

He didn’t bother telling either of them that he hadn’t expected that outcome, since that was self-evident and the boy could pluck it from his mind anyway. He just folded his hand into Hera’s and left the cabin.

“Are you all right?” she asked him again once they were back in their own cabin with the door closed.

Kanan put his arms around her. She was warm and very real, comfortingly alive in a way that made the rapid pounding of his heart slow – to human normal, not the slower pulse common to Pau’ans.

“Kanan?” she insisted when he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” he made himself say. “Yeah, I will be, I just need a moment. I did something stupid.”

She guided him over to the bench below the bunk and sat down beside him. He could still feel the other Kanan’s terror thrumming along his nerves and pushed it out of his awareness with a force of effort; it wasn’t his to know.

“You didn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t make it less stupid.” He pressed his face down into her shoulder, then kissed her neck just for the sake of feeling her pleasure in the Force. It was clean, and honest, and utterly hers. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“The screaming woke me up.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s go back to bed. Unless you don’t want to?”

At the moment Kanan couldn’t think of anything better than curling up in bed with Hera in his arms, especially with a closed door shutting them off from the rest of the world. He kissed her neck again, then followed stood up and nearly brained himself on the top bunk. His body still felt not quite his own; he could feel his eyes straining to see in a way he hadn’t done in years. Phantom pain from injuries he had never suffered made him wince and Hera turn towards him, radiating worry.

“I’m fine,” he told her.

“Mm-hmm.” She cupped her hands around his face, studying him, then kissed him quickly. “Come on and sleep it off, love.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #other side au tag #as always comments are appreciated #especially as I'm not having a great time just now

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 8.2k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries (PG-16 Rating)

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

The skies were gray and the streets were damp and yet the air remains humid. The scorching heat on the pavement permeates the soles of his leather combat boots. It’s the familiar stench of Down Hill. Jungkook could already smell it when he’s just reaching the boundary between it and Middle Town.

Jungkook looks down at the scrap of paper that’s been in his pocket since the day started. Namjoon had to write the address of this Y/N L/N, lest DOJ traces his electronic trail and take him in for unnecessary questioning. Jungkook himself had to make up some petty excuse of a “hurting arm” to file a day-off. He just hopes all of this spent effort will worth him something.

Jungkook nears the 7-Eleven sitting in the fork of the streets. Namjoon wrote Y/N’s studio is cramped among the apartments around this area. He said she never really penned down a home to accommodate covert meet-ups like this. All she has is her studio.

In “Mini Palais, 23-B,” Jungkook mutters again, huffing in front of a door with cracking cadet blue paint. He finds the unit after climbing up a series of stairs at the end of the alleyway jammed between the decaying 7-Eleven and a battered motor shop. Jungkook raises his hand to knock when the door bursts open.

In front of him is a girl. Namjoon already said so and although Jungkook thinks it’s accurate enough for the girl who’s looking up at him through chopped raven bangs, it also wasn’t really enough to describe her. Because the girl in front of him was an aberrant mix of a girl and a woman. Jungkook thinks she’s around her early thirties if he were to consider Namjoon’s history of working with her for about ten years in FJO. There are faint lines around her eyes to support that. However, her relatively small height, plump cheeks, and the natural rosy hue of her lips beg to decrease ten years off that supposed age. With her youthful face, messy half-bun, and the white, floral off-shoulder dress flowing past her knees, no one will argue with Jungkook if he were to say she’s just 22.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, um,” Jungkook flashes his badge, “I’m Jungkook Jeon, a captain in the Federal Justice Organization. Precrime, Murder sector. I’m here to um, avail your…services for a case.”

The girl cocks her head to the side and gives him a once over. “I’m sorry, I don’t do services for the FJO anymore.” She moves to close the door but Jungkook was quick to block a foot between it and the wall.

“I’m a contact of Namjoon’s!” Jungkook exclaims, “He’s Lieutenant Seokjin Kim’s close subordinate.” This is a card he didn’t want to use but it looks like he has no other choice left. Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, I’m a very close contact of Namjoon. We’re best friends. I even live with him. He’s the one who told me to, um, consult you for the case I’m handling.”

The girl opens the door an inch. Jungkook hands a folded paper to her. She spreads it open and scans through the letter. Jungkook doesn’t know what it actually says. Namjoon just thrust it into his hands on his way out and told him not to open it. It must be an effective personal request because by the time the girl reaches the end, she’s pushing her door wide open, tilting her head to the side, beckoning him to come inside. However, her face remains grim.

“I’m Y/N L/N. This is my studio. I know you already know I prefer to transact business here even for ones intended to be covert. So first off, I want to say I’m sorry you have to travel to such a place like this.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Oh no, it’s definitely alright—”

“I kinda think it’s not when you grew up in a comfortable life. You must be quite shaken up.”

Jungkook freezes. Y/N looks at him, “Oh, I didn’t look into you or something. It’s just a hypothetical guess, seeing your,” she motions to his silver watch. “That’s expensive. No one from here will be able to afford it anytime soon.”

Jungkook’s shoulders turn lax. Y/N points to a chair next to a table in the corner. “Just wait there. I’m about to finish this piece in just a sec. Then I’m all yours.”

Jungkook nods and makes himself comfortable on the seat. Unlike its appearance on the outside, Y/N’s unit is not much of a concrete wreck. It still looks a bit rough. The ceiling has cracks all over it. A small white bulb precariously hangs on its center. It looks too weak to illuminate the whole room when the night comes. Jungkook thinks it’s a good thing that the unit has huge gaping rectangular windows to let in the natural light. The floor is cemented in gray but the work on it is unimpressive as there are numerous uneven layers, rough patches, and dents that could only be ascribed to poor mason work. The white wallpaper is torn around, some even wet at the edges—probably due to a leak during rains.

However, the flowers painted on them is vibrant enough to uplift the dreary unit. Paintings are littered around. Many are big, a few are small. Some were seated on easels, several are just laying around on the floor. Newspapers are strewn across the majority of the floor. Buckets and tin cans of paints line up the corners like a prayer circle.

All the colors present in the room can only be attributed to the paint that’s strewn across the newspapers, the paintings, and the 6’ tall canvas of an owl in flight Y/N is currently working on. The girl is standing on a small foldable ladder, painting the feathers of the bird at the top of the canvas. When the wind blows her hair to the side, Jungkook finds a mirage of colors on the scarlet spider lilies inked on her spine.

After about two minutes, Y/N steps down and dumps her brush into a rusted bucket filled with water. She turns to the man on the chair and makes her way to the stool opposite his. She fixes down her dress and finally looks at Jungkook. “So, what case do you have for me?”

“This,” Jungkook slides a couple of pictures toward her. They are the screen captures from the CCTV records that caught the black Jaguar. “There’s an unknown driver who’s doing an illegal time jump patterned to Precrime’s traveling agents. We tried to run in the license plate but it just turned to be ‘invalid.’ All we know is that the suspect is male, slim, and tall. He’s interested in the Winston Assassination, and has probably inside ties in FJO since he easily entered the Special Operations Building just ten days ago.”

“None of the traveling agents has seen this man before? Precrime or Forecrime?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Y/N licks a finger and flips to the next picture, “What about the car?”

“None of the agents has seen a suspicious sedan sports Jaguar before. It’s the first time we have someone presumably well-to-do threatening the justice system.”

Y/N nods. Jungkook inserts his hand into his pocket and retrieves a black USB. He hands it to the girl. “Here’s more of the screenshots from the CCTVs, taken in each second. I can’t give you the CCTVs because of the protocol. I can only give you these. Just imagine they’re moving,” Jungkook purses his lips as he looks at the girl. “I want you to identify this man for me.”

Y/N tucks the USB into her dress’ pocket. She slides the pictures back to Jungkook. “This seems to be a heavy identification check then. Not that I couldn’t handle, of course. However, Namjoon must have told you that my rates are quite high—”

“Money is not a problem.”

Y/N cocks a brow, “So you did grow up a comfortable life.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw.

Y/N chuckles, “Okay, I’m not gonna dwell on it more. It’s settled then. Send your weekly payment to this account,” Y/N tears a piece from the rolls of paper by her side, scribbles on it, and hands it to him. “Every Friday, 10 AM sharp.” Jungkook looks at the paper before tucking it in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N crosses her arms, “We can start next week after you give me the downpayment.”

Jungkook zips open a duffel bag and places a stack of bills on the table.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Y/N smiles, “I like that.” She flips through the bills before deciding they’re legitimate and dumping it into a box by her feet.

Y/N turns to him. “Now, where are we? Oh—you must already know, but what I really do here is foreseeing the future for whatever cause you have. It’s not just trivial fortune-telling but a purposive one. I can accurately give you whatever you want to know.”

Jungkook nods. Y/N’s leans forward on the table. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really have terms and conditions with my clients. Or any contract to ensure them their protection, as what I do tend to…increase risks. Emotional security and mental stability on your part. Those two and physical toll on mine. It will be absurd to provide any contract as what I am doing is anything but guaranteeing protection. I can’t also be fully transparent about the mechanisms behind the things I will do for you. Otherwise, my gift won’t work. What I can only assure is I’ll never proceed on any memories you have set boundaries on. Should you decide to stop this negotiation anywhere in the future, I will automatically concede and keep the confidentiality of whatever that may happen. As long as on your part, you won’t consider asking for a refund.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles, “Now first things first. Tell me any hurting point you have.”

Jungkook goes stiff. “Is this actually necessary?”

Y/N nods. “I know this is a tough question, but we’re talking about memories here.”

“I know but I can’t just divulge them to a stranger—"

“I think you don’t get what I’m saying.” Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle. “Look, Jungkook, when I attempt to see the future concerning this elusive driver you’re after, it is inevitable for the past to re-appear. There is no future without any past. Your past memories can clog up with the ones involved in the case because you are in the case. You’re heading it. Good or bad, memories will come up. That’s their thing. They spring up at the most inconvenient times. No matter how old they already are. No matter how long you must have already moved on from them. Memories demand to be remembered and you cannot just disregard them even if you will it to because it never gave anyone a choice to do otherwise. So, if you don’t set the boundaries on the memories you don’t want me to cross, I’ll just see everything in their utter unadulterated form.” Y/N leans forward, “And I can assure you, you don’t want that to happen.”

Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue. “Fine. I’ll give you my hurting point and that’s that. No further questions.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook digs in his back pocket for his wallet and flips it open. There’s a tattered white edge of a picture peeking through the flaps. It’s been years since he pulled it out. Its replica, now tucked in his shelf, has prevented him from doing so for so many years. Jungkook closes his eyes and slides it toward the girl. “This boy. Anything that concerns him, I don’t want you to cross or even bring up. Understand?”

“Okay.” Y/N hands back the photo to him. “We go to the second step then. You must already have your assumed suspects. Tell me their names.”

Jungkook draws back. “I can’t tell you that, that’s highly classified information. FJO’s protocol doesn’t allow it and—”

“Do you seeking my help part of the protocol?”

Jungkook looks down, “No.”

“Right. So, tell me their names. I need to know them to make a memory map.”

Jungkook’s brows meet “A what?”

“A memory map,” Y/N repeats, “It’s something I make to identify points of certain memories in time. It guides me to the memories I need to tread to reach what I’m really looking for. It’s like a demo version of Forecrime’s box trainings but except of a machine, I’m doing it manually by hand. For all we know, the real suspect must be close to these suspects.”

Jungkook’s brow quirks up.

Y/N leans forward, “So, tell me their names?”

Jungkook turns his face away from her, looking at his clasped hands. “Well, I…only have one.”

“And that is?”

“Leigh Anderson. Winston’s assassin. FJO has been after him for 17 years. He also has a number of sponsors who’s been sending him missions with promises of large sums of money. But most of all, he’s rumored to have access to time jumping technologies. Illegal of course. FJO is the only one licensed to be utilizing them.”

“That’s good,” Y/N quips. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

Jungkook turns to his duffel bag and retrieves a picture. It’s Anderson in the scene of Winston’s murder that FJO has pinned to their system. The one in the crime record Jungkook produced. He hands it to Y/N. “Is this enough?”

“More than enough,” Y/N smiles. She stands up and walks to one of her cupboards, reaching for a ceramic bowl. She pours some tap water in it and turns back to the table, a short, white candle in hand. She places the candle on the water, letting it float. She retrieves a lighter from her dress pocket and lights up the wick of the candle.

Y/N puts her palms open on the table. “Let’s start now. Do you have your clicker with you?”

Jungkook’s brows meet. “What?”

“Your time jumper,” Y/N grits.

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “I don’t see any reason why would you need it—”

“We’re going to the past to have a tangible memory to start on my memory map.” Before Jungkook could tear himself away from the table, Y/N launches forward and snatches the small, black device hanging on the man’s belt loop. Jungkook shoots an arm out and grabs onto it.

But it’s too late. Y/N’s already pushed the button.

The air is knocked out of Jungkook’s windpipe. A numbing pain starts to settle on his chest, a migraine forming on his temple. His limbs also feel stone-heavy. Precrime traveling has always been like this and yet Jungkook can never get used to it. However, he’s not left wondering about it for long because in the next second, Jungkook’s standing in front of a dark road. Tall shrubs and trees shadowing the moon, CCTVs mounted on the lamp posts lining the concrete. It’s Somerset Road.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Why is he here? He tries to move but his limbs are stuck by his side, unmoving as he grunts. He tries to take a step back but the effort is futile when his feet are seemingly glued onto the dark asphalt. Jungkook sighs and turns to the road in front of him again. And this time around, Jungkook’s mouth falls ajar.

Y/N is standing idly at the other side of the road, opposite of him.

“H-how did you travel here—”

A car zooms past. Jungkook turns his head to the sound. The air is punched out from his esophagus. It’s his car—the silver-gray Ford. And there at the other end of the road emerges a black sedan sports Jaguar. The Jaguar speeds on and drives into the Ford, swerving it around, tires screeching loud on the pavement. It topples down, rolling around, then round, and round. Three times, Jungkook counted. Just like the CCTV Hoseok retrieved. The Ford stops, upside down. The black Jaguar zips past it. Like the CCTVs have shown, the Jaguar reaches the other end of the street and disappears. A second passes. The body of the driver in the car drops onto the cold pavement. It lolls his head to his side, bloodied face turned towards the man standing on the pavement.

Jungkook’s facing right into his past. He isn’t reliving the memory. He is living it. There’s no anger but pain. Fresh, unadulterated pain that cannot be accounted to the lacerations on his injured arm.

The wind howls. Jungkook remains frozen in his position. Then suddenly, everything stops—the distant honking of the cars, the wind, the clatter of the crushed car pieces falling onto the ground. What the fuck is happening? Jungkook turns around, only to come face to face with the girl.

Y/N’s arm shoots forward and fists the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him down to her level. “You didn’t say this business is personal!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook spits, tearing her hand off him.

“It is, Jungkook! You said you were involved. I didn’t think it was this level of involved!”

“It doesn’t change any fact that I’m still going to be involved either way! I’m still going to head this case because it’s tied with Winston. What difference does it make if I am the victim of this fucking man?!”

“A lot!” Y/N screams. Jungkook stops. Y/N sighs, “It does a lot of difference, Jungkook. We’re already risking a lot in this until it turns out you’re a focal point in this case! You’re a fucking victim of this culprit! A conflict of interest is highly possible. You will be unable disassociate yourself from this and objectively investigate this case—”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should do or not, Y/N.” Jungkook steps forward to the girl. “I know what I’m doing. And I know it when I say I can investigate this following all the legal protocols.”

Y/N tilts her head. “How can you say that when you’ve just been face-to-face with your past self?”

Before Jungkook can say anything, Y/N closes her eyes and clicks her finger. In just one second, everything around Jungkook falls beneath his feet—the trees, Somerset Road, his bloodied self. It rips themselves off from his senses until all he could see again is the dilapidated atelier, the barren ceilings, and, Y/N.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as air fills his lungs again. “H-how could you do that?”

Y/N blows off the candle. “My gift.” She glances at the man. “The accident is taking a serious toll on you. I have to take us out of the time jump.”

Jungkook sits back and glowers at her. “N-no, what I’m asking about is—how could you snatch my clicker and make a jump without any remorse? You do know that’s illegal!”

“I know. ‘FJO’s traveling agents and officials are the only ones allowed by the law to engage in time jumping activities’ yaddah yaddah bullshit.” Y/N leans on the table, face hovering the Captain’s. “But involving a then-law practitioner, much more an outsider like me, into your case is also illegal. I have my gift, yes. But I can only see the future and I won’t be able to see it accurately if I don’t have some sense of the past. Plus, I have no other pragmatic choice to start this case on the right foot. I already saw the future of our negotiation before you sat down on that stool. There’s nothing else I could say other than it didn’t end favorably for any of us.” Y/N turns back to the table she’s clearing, “Not that it’s any different now. Especially when I just learned the case you’ve showed me is more personal than you presented it to be.”

Jungkook purses his lips. He stands up, gathers his things, and wordlessly makes his way out of the atelier. He didn’t bid the girl any farewell.

“Looks like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Jungkook looks up at his friend before looking down at his crossed arms, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee.

Namjoon takes a seat cross Jungkook. “Did something happen?” He twirls the tea bag around his own mug, “Care to tell why you’ve been sporting those dark eye bags since two days ago?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing when the doctor precisely told you to have a healthy lifestyle to help your wound heal faster.”

Jungkook looks at Namjoon.

Namjoon points to his bandaged arm, “It indeed doesn’t look it’s healing fast like it’s supposed to.”

Jungkook sighs. “Fine, you caught me.” He purses his lips then looks at his friend, “I’ve been wondering. You know our clickers are designed to identify the agent it was assigned to before it could work. But, is it…possible for clickers to work on someone that doesn’t belong to FJO as long as someone from FJO is present?”

Namjoon keeps his gaze on him. A look of surprise seems to wash over his face. But it soon gets replaced by a look of recognition. Namjoon places the tea bag onto the saucer on his left. “I see you already met Y/N.”

“Y-you knew that about her?”

“I do,” Namjoon mutters over his cup of tea. “I learned it when the Bureau looked into the Linton Park serial murders. Seokjin’s team, including me, followed the memory map she made for us—a trail of memories that specifically belongs to anything related to the murders. But then, we hit a dead-end for the supposed next victim. Can’t identify her. We only had images of flashing movement—blood splattering in a barn, people running on a green field. There are just cops and a woman.”

Namjoon places down his cup, “And so, Y/N told me she needed me to help her make a time jump in the past. I pressed on the clicker and,” Namjoon shrugs, “Y/N successfully made the jump. And also successfully return with the info of the victim—a girl working on a farm. Y/N tied it to the flashing images of the field and deduced the running was not about us chasing a murderer’s accomplice. But us running after a victim before Linton could. It was hard to tell at first why the victim is running away from us. Until we learned through Y/N she was an illegal immigrant.”

Namjoon pulls his lips into a tight smile. “I think it’s an additional gift. But at the same time, it’s also a setback. A rightful one at that. Y/N’s inability to time jump in the past unless with a clicker a meter radius within her balances the power of her future-seeing gift. She still needs to rely on the system even if her gift for the future is, hypothetically, unbound from any constraints.” Namjoon takes a sip of his tea. “How ‘bout you? How did you learn this…extra ability of hers?”

“She snatched my clicker from me,” Jungkook leans back in his seat. “She said she needed a ‘tangible memory’ to start on her memory map. She ended up thrusting us back into the time of my car accident.”

Namjoon freezes. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘us’?”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Yeah. We did the jump together, that’s why I’m asking you about this thing with the clickers.”

“Jungkook, she never did that before.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “What?”

Namjoon scratches his nape, face scrunched up. “When she asked me to let her jump through my clicker, she didn’t take me along with the jump. It’s only her. Like it should always be as one clicker is only for one user. It’s always been like this in all the situations she asked me for a time jump in the past.” Namjoon looks at him, “I don’t know why you got in the same loop as her.”

The night was quiet but devoid of peace. Like an ugly pause in a running film that’s just about to unwind the questions they laid at the start. Even after intaking his blue pills, Jungkook finds it difficult to close his eyes shut.

“Big brother!”

Jungkook turns around. The small boy stands on his tiptoes, small arms reaching for him. Jungkook smiles, “You want to climb on my back again, Daehyun?”

“Yes!” Daehyun giggles.

“Alright then,” Jungkook crouches in front of him and Daehyun’s squeals grow louder as he loops his stubby arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stands up, securing the boy’s short legs around his torso. “Ready for some wind, big boy?” He asks. Daehyun nods frantically and soon, Jungkook is zooming on the green field, turning the heads of the children and volunteers in the park. But all Jungkook could hear was Daehyun’s laughter filling the nice summer afternoon. It brings a huge smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then—flashing blue and red lights. Cold pavement. A lone school bus standing in the middle. Its yellowness highlighted by the police’s yellow tape surrounding the area. Reporters dot every possible space on the crossroad. “Shooter on the loose.” ��Poor child.” “Blood splattered on the seats.” But all Jungkook could hear is the white noise of the chattering. And the call of “Big brother!” he’ll never hear anymore.

Jungkook jolts awake. He sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s all in the past,” he mutters repeatedly under his breath. But no matter how many times he repeats it, it doesn’t shake off the horror he’s reeling in. He’s had this dream again and again for eight years straight. He should be already accustomed to it.

Jungkook sits up straight. He turns back to his computer and sees a couple of pictures open on the desktop. It was the screenshots of the CCTVs Yoongi gave them. He looks at the top of his desk. His notes empty of anything new other than Leigh Anderson’s name webbed next to an un-filled space for sponsors. Jungkook covers his face with his palms and yawns. Just then a series of text messages come in.

Unknown: This is Y/N. I know we left on bad terms three days ago. I’m the one to blame for that for overreacting. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done a case for FJO. I’m still kinda hung up separating personal services from investigative ones. (2:13 P.M.)

Unknown: Nevertheless, I hope you’re free this day. Meet me at Somerset Road. 3 P.M. I don’t want you to waste the money you gave me yesterday (2:13 P.M.)

Somerset Road is a thirty-minute drive from the FJO Main Headquarters. However, it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook parks his car on the side road. It seemed like hours have gone by when the sun is about to set in the alcove of trees in the distance. It’s just three in the afternoon. Jungkook steps outside and shuts the door. From his position, he could make out a girl in ripped black denim pants and black tank layered with a pink see-through mesh shirt. From the striking red of the spider lilies on the top of her spine, Jungkook could tell it was Y/N. He almost didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t know she has an undercut had her high ponytail didn’t highlight it.

The girl turns around and looks at him. “You’re late.”

“I have to bribe the Maintenance Office first to give me this afternoon’s CCTVs when we’re done.” Jungkook strides toward her, “How did you get my number?”

“Namjoon.”

Jungkook cocks a brow.

Y/N shrugs, “he wrote it in the letter you gave me. Should you, quote-unquote, be ‘difficult to deal with.’”

Jungkook keeps his lips in a straight line.

Y/N rocks on her toes, hands in her pocket. “Let’s get straight to it then. Take your clicker out and push it.”

“What are you intending to do—”

“A time jump.”

“Of course, I know that. What other purpose do we use our time jumps for?” Jungkook spits. “What I want to know is what we’re supposed to be doing first before I follow whatever you want me to do because I cannot just blindly trust you with this—”

Y/N turns her head to him, one brow cocked up, “Didn’t I tell you before I don’t fancy How-What-Why-Whatever questions to what I do or else my gift won’t work?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, will you just push it or do you want me to snatch it from you again?” Y/N takes a step closer to him, leveling his eyes with hers. “I already did a read for today. I know its new hiding place.”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his stance.

Y/N crosses her arms. “If it would assure you, this session won’t end taxingly fruitless like the last time. I’m positive we’ll get something by the end of today.”

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I did a read for today. I saw you with an astounded face and me with a happy and proud smile. Obviously, we must have ended up finding something.”

Jungkook is still unconvinced.

Y/N sighs, “If you don’t want to do anything of what I can offer you, you know you can just terminate our connection anytime you want. Just so you know you can’t refund the 10,000 zials you gave me for the downpayment.”

Jungkook keeps his gaze on her. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and shakes his head as he takes out his issued clicker tucked in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N smirks. “See? You know you’re gonna need me in the end and you still try to put up an unnecessary fight.”

Jungkook grunts. He turns the clicker’s indicator to “1-2 weeks” timeframe and pushes the button.

It was just like their previous time jump—like any other Precrime time jump. It felt like nothing yet also everything at the same time. An amalgamation of sensations and perceptions flashing in front of him in the blink of an eye as he is transported back to the night of his accident. Jungkook looks down at his feet. He’s back to where he last stood at—the left side of the road next to the corner where his car will come from. Jungkook turns to his left and he almost jumps in shock. Unlike their last jump, Y/N is no longer on the opposite side of the road, but beside him, shoulders almost bumping his. Jungkook takes a staggering step away from her.

Even if Namjoon laid everything he knows about Y/N’s skills yesterday, Jungkook still finds it hard to accept that a clairvoyant is able to look into the past with such effortless access. Aren’t they only supposed to see the future?

“What are you looking at?”

Jungkook tears his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

“Thought so, too,” Y/N quips. “We’re here to work after all. Not ogle at each other.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. He’s not left to his frustration for long as after a second, the burning of tires on the asphalt is heard on their side of the road. A silver-gray Ford appears and it zooms past them in a flash. A black Jaguar subsequently shows up on the other side, its form nearing them each millisecond that passes. It’s only time ‘til the two crashes and sends Jungkook’s car rolling three times on the road.

But, it didn’t happen. The howls of the wind stop. The screeching of the tires halts in awkward silence. And the cars are frozen still. The Jaguar’s bumper and Ford’s right door are separated by a mere inch. It’s the second before the accident happens. Paused in a picture-like frame as if someone hit the pause icon on a video.

Jungkook whips his head to his side. Y/N has her palm closed in a post-click of her thumb and middle fingers. Jungkook feels his throat clog up, “H-how did you do that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s because of my gift. And it’s also just seconds ago I told you I don’t like questions about how my gift works.” Y/N steps away from him and onto the road. “Follow me.”

Jungkook silently follows behind. It’s only a matter of seconds that they reach the side of the door of the silver-gray Ford. Jungkook lets his fingers touch on the coated metal. It felt cold on his flesh. Solid. Real. Jungkook can’t help but be astonished. This is no regular time jump. Totally unlike the first one he did with the woman. For this time, Jungkook doesn’t feel he’s living the film of the scene, just like any of the standard Precrime time jumping. This time, Jungkook feels he’s in the scene. Not in a film, not like the virtual reality experienced by Forecrime agents. But in real-time.

“Take your hands off your car.”

Jungkook tears his hands away from his car. He looks at the girl. Y/N gives him a pointed look, “I know this time jump doesn’t feel like the standard time jumps of Precrime so you may be astounded with,” she motions around them, “all of this. But I prefer you not to get too overwhelmed. We’re here for work.”

Jungkook nods, reluctant. Y/N walks further into the side of the road, now a foot away from the spot where the cars should crash. Jungkook quickly follows behind. When he’s by an arms-length away from her, he faces back to the scene in front of him. And then, Y/N clicks her hand.

The trees sway again. The winds continue their violent gush on the road. And the cars collide. The film is playing again.

But then, Y/N clicks her fingers. The scene stops, frozen yet again. The bumper of the Jaguar has dug into the Ford’s door, crushing the metal with its momentum. The side mirror is broken, glass shards shattering in mid-air.

“Come here,” Y/N beckons. Jungkook walks close behind as Y/N stops by the point of intersection of the two cars. From their position, Jungkook could see the past him hunched over on the wheel, seat belt digging into his torso. The window by his side is broken, a splotch of blood marring the clear glass. And on his right, Jungkook could see the driver of the black Jaguar. Non-existent.

Y/N looks at him, “So we know the man you’re after is doing an illegal time jump similar to the pattern of Precrime’s traveling agents. But what you don’t know is: he’s a professional.”

“W-what?”

“Look,” Y/N flicks her wrist and makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hand. The sound goes void again and the cars back away from each other in slow motion. Jungkook’s brows shoot up. The scene is rewinding. Y/N is turning back the time before the Jaguar collided into the Ford. And then, Y/N moves her arm horizontally to her left and clicks her fingers. The Jaguar moves forward again, but slowly this time. Jungkook could see the silhouette of the driver with arms taut on the wheel disappearing into a cloud of smoke until it turns no more but a nonexistent person on the seat as it hits the door of the Ford.

Y/N clicks her fingers and the scene pauses. “As you saw, it only took the driver,” she glances at her watch, “ten seconds before completely disappearing into his time jump. From how fast he disappeared, we could say it only took him twenty seconds in total to make the entire jump. I can only deduce this as the memories we have are short of the time we could see him in his solid form. The same way goes for the CCTVs you gathered. It only captured the last ten seconds of the whole accident. The Jaguar nonexistent in the frame from 20:23:39 and anything beyond before that time mark. The CCTVs only showed the Jaguar from 20:23:40 to exactly 20:24. The last 10 seconds, devoid of any driver.”

The girl continues, “Now, to be able to completely vanish in just 20 seconds, you must be a professional in time jumping in the past. Which can only be done if you’ve undergone training under Precrime. However, this could also be just any other outsider that’s gotten lucky doing an illegal time jump. Considering Somerset Road has a strong electromagnetic field that can help anyone do their time jumps faster and more successfully—including the risky ones that involve a huge time frame of unbounded jumps into the past. But to know that about Somerset Road, much less know how to effectively take advantage of its field during a time jump—you should be a long-time agent of Precrime.”

Y/N faces Jungkook, “The man you’re after is either a professional Precrime traveling agent or an outsider who’s fed with all the necessary information only a Precrime agent could know. It’s an inside job.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. It can’t be. Every time-jumping device has a permanent tracker that can never be taken out even by the best engineer. Allen McGregor designed it to be like that to ensure these devices will not be used for personal interest. Every agent is tracked of their traveling activities and logged straight into the Investigation Bureau’s files. They’re inputted in glass files similar to the crime records—void for editing, copying, and deleting. And should it be an outsider utilizing Precrime’s technology, a travel will still be tracked back to the agent whose device was used.” Jungkook looks at Y/N. “There have been no reports of anyone traveling on Somerset Road the night of my accident.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’m just saying what I saw. Especially this.” Y/N makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hands and the scene rewinds again. The Jaguar is frozen back into five seconds before it hits the silver-gray Ford. Y/N walks toward the car, Jungkook close behind. The girl motions to the passenger seat and Jungkook stills. There on the leather seat is a red file case. Unprecedented murder. Precrime Murder Sector. But this is not what rendered Jungkook immobile in shock. Rather, it’s the label on the file case.

“Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

“See?” Y/N smirks, “Told you we’ll find something today.”

A click of the hand and soon, the dark night sky of Somerset Road bleeds into the burning colors of the sunset. There’s no longer the silver-gray Ford and the black Jaguar. It’s just Jungkook and Y/N alone in the road, back to where they were before.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as he beats his chest. When he finally stabilizes his breathing back to normal, he turns to the girl. “You…Ho-how can you be so sure with all of these vi-visions?”

Y/N looks at Jungkook, an indecipherable look on her face. “This is what you paid for 10,000 zials. I’m handing you what your eyes missed on just the way they are.”

Jungkook holds in his breath as he knocks on the glass door.

“Come in.”

Jungkook pushes the door open and salutes. “Chief Nathan Spencer.”

“Captain Jeon,” the Chief of Precrime glances up at him before returning back to the stack of papers he’s signing. He motions to the chair in front of his desk, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jungkook pulls back the black chair and sits.

“So, what brings you here?”

“This week’s report, sir—the joint investigation with DOJ on the unidentified black Jaguar.” Jungkook places a brown folder on the Chief’s desk.

The chief looks at the captain. “Still no progress in the identification?”

Jungkook shakes his head, face grim.

“That can’t be helped,” Nathan sympathetically mutters. “It’s not the first time FJO has handled a difficult case.”

“But it is the first time FJO can’t identify a suspect with its current system.”

“You’re right,” Nathan nods. He flips open the brown folder and skims the report. “How’s the auditor doing?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Fine. Still…meddling with our processes.”

Nathan lets out a light scoff. “As expected of someone who’s running for a promotion. Always been a know-it-all jerk, this Min Yoongi.”

Jungkook makes a tight-lipped smile.

Nathan chuckles. “Forgive me. I’ve always had a prejudice against DOJ’s auditors. Most, if not all of them, always give us a hard time more than what’s necessary. Anyway, what else do you have for me, Jungkook?”

The captain sits up straight. “I would like to ask a favor, sir.”

Nathan clasps his hand on his desk. He leans forward. “What is it?”

“It’s for the investigation. DOJ has access to all of our files—Precrime, Forecrime, and even the Investigation Bureau. So I figured if I can also do the same since our sector seems to be their main target. If I have the same leverage on our own information as them, I can have control over this investigation and drive them away before they can even assume power over us.” Jungkook leans on the table, “We could see the problems first before they become visible to DOJ.”

Nathan raises his brow. “So what do you mean?”

“I would like to have unrestricted access in our archives. Everything that contains anything pertaining to FJO.” Jungkook leans forward, “Including the Memory Temple.”

The chief sighs, “That’s a big favor, Jungkook.”

“I know. That’s why Chief General Andrews told me to go to you.”

Nathan’s brows shoot up, “The Chief General?”

“Yes, Chief General Matthew Andrews. He said you’re good friends with Chief of the Bureau, Natasha Ryde. Chief Andrews wants to ask if you could do a favor of a friend for a friend.” Jungkook slides a white envelope underneath the folder, “Of course, not without considerable credit.”

Nathan purses his lips. A beat. He shakes his head, sighing. “Okay…I’ll try to put in a word for you. I can give you the entire archives tomorrow. But the Memory Temple could take a while. Two days or three.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiles. He stands up and heads to the end of the room. Before he could disappear behind the door, he salutes one more time, “Thank you for the kind accommodation, Chief.”

Jungkook heads to the main elevator and hits the second floor below the Superiors’ Hall. The metal doors ding open and soon, Jungkook’s looking at a wide expanse of glass wall reflecting hundreds of shelves on the glass panes.

Jungkook heads to the entranceway and salutes at the guard, “Sally.” The guard returns the salute, smiling. Jungkook tilts his head, “Did the Bureau come by to retrieve Precrime files?”

“Not yet, sir. The Bureau’s still busy in their matters with DOJ. They halted the synching of files for now.”

“That’s good,” Jungkook quips and pushes the glass doors open.

Tall metal bookshelves snake like an accordion around the floor. The spaces between them is occasionally filled up by wooden desks that mandatorily come along with a wooden bookstand and black study lamp. It looks like a hedge maze made of old books, monochrome papers, and multi-colored files.

Jungkook heads to the leftmost aisle—Precrime’s archives. He weaves his way through the bookshelves until he stops in front of a separated room in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s made completely out of glass, just like FJO’s offices. The only difference is that this room contains five sets of desks and chairs, bookshelves, and the Archive Manager’s huge white station as the centerpiece.

And before Jungkook could finish leveling his eyes to the scanner set by the door, he could already feel the growing stare of Emily Young.

“Captain Jeon.”

“Ms. Young,” Jungkook nods to the manager.

Emily smiles, “To what do I owe your visit today?”

“Jonathan Winston’s Assassination case file.”

“As usual,” The thirty-seven-year-old manager sing-songs as she stands up and disappears into the back room. It doesn’t take long for her to retrieve what the Precrime captain is looking for.

A long expandable, red file with the label in Arial 12 print: “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Just like in Y/N’s time jump. Identically the same. Jungkook looks at the manager, “Do you have a log of anyone who looks into this file?”

Emily chuckles, “I don’t think that will bring anything new to the table, captain.” She scans the numeric code of the file and turns the monitor of her computer towards him. “There’s no one who’s been looking at this file but you.”

Jungkook peers in. Indeed, the log on Winston’s file contains nothing but his name. From August 15, 2047, the date of Winston’s assassination, to the most recent date, August 3, 2059. The day after Leigh Anderson’s suicide. The day after the Winston case was closed cold. There’s no other name in the log for 12 years other than his name.

Jungkook looks back at Emily, “Are you sure this is the complete log on this file? No one borrowed the file earlier than July 12th?”

“That’s the whole log, captain. There’s no record on August 1st because we’re closed to do an inventory check.” Emily leans back in her chair. “Everyone knows you’re busy on a case in Down Hill for the entirety of June. The Allison future murder is all over the news. Of course, with a Metropolis resident as a future victim. And with you busy on another case, this Winston’s file is devoid of any viewers.” Emily releases a chuckle. “Every cop has an obsession with a particular case. Everyone here knows Winston’s case is yours. I think I will remember if someone other than you looked into this file because I swear that day will be a miracle.”

Jungkook purses his lips, face undecipherable. Right then, his phone rings loud. He turns to his back and picks it up. “Hello?”

“Captain.” It’s Jimin.

“What is it?”

“You have to come to the sector now. There’s a file from Precrime. It’s…a blank.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Jungkook ends the call. He faces Emily. “Thank you for today, Emily.” The archives manager nods with a playful salute at him. Jungkook quickly returns the salute and pushes the door open. Soon, he’s tearing past the labyrinth of shelves.

It doesn’t take Jungkook longer than ten minutes to reach the left-wing of the 2nd floor. The cold sweat from the discovery in the archives is still clinging on his nape.

As soon as he steps into Murder Sector, everyone’s eyes are set on him. Including Yoongi. Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue as he slides in the gloves over his hands. “Jimin, give me the run-over.”

“Captain, Jeon. It’s a grayish-white file. Precrime, Property and Crime Scene Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Eric Williams. Crime record validated by traveling agents Hannah Peters and Ivan Park. Case number 3571, hit-and-run, destruction of property. Suspect is unknown. Victim’s name is…Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook whips his head towards the secretary, eyes wide.

“It’s your case, sir.” Jimin confirms, “Eric accidentally time jumped into the night of your hit-and-run while he’s traveling for a T-Bone accident in Middle Town. Property and Crime Scene figured this blank is a crucial update on your case.” He walks to the end of the glass board and slides the disk into the middle slot.

Jungkook turns to his front. The glass board lights up and a video starts playing. It’s Somerset Road and it’s almost pitch black in the grainy film. Eric stands frozen on the pavement for a second. But the seeming serenity of the scene soon dissipates as he looks down at his gear and frantically fumbles for his time jumper. Suddenly, hot blinding light fills his peripherals. Eric’s head shoots up. A car is speeding toward him. The headlights grow larger and finally, the car becomes visible. It’s the silver-gray Ford. Eric turns around and right then, a black Jaguar zooms past him, merely missing him by a hairsbreadth. But the Jaguar doesn’t stop and further increases its speed. It bulldozers right into the side of the Ford, sending it flying across the barren road. Eric picks up his feet and dashes to the cars. But his efforts are futile. The black Jaguar has already disappeared before he could even take his 12th step. And then, the record stops.

Before Jimin could even state the protocol run-through, Jungkook frantically swipes through the blank record. He slides across the frames in reverse, back and backward until he reaches the first second of the blank.

“Sir, I’m afraid we have to do the protocol first—"

Jungkook’s hand stills on the board. The frame freezes. It’s a close-up of the black Jaguar as it barely grazes Eric’s body. Jungkook zooms in. There inside the passenger seat of the car is a long, red expandable file. “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Jungkook feels his blood run cold. It’s the same file he just had his hands on less than 15 minutes ago. It’s the same file he saw in his and Y/N’s jump. Y/N’s vision is true.

Jungkook feels his pocket vibrate and he quickly whips out his phone. However, he wasn’t able to dwell on it longer as a hard force pushes his shoulder backward, forcing Jungkook to tear his eyes off the screen.

Yoongi glares at him, “Why are you indifferent about this? You know something about this, didn’t you? Captain Jeon!”

But even with his name called out loud, Jungkook couldn’t hear anything. All that registers in his mind is one single message.

Y/N L/N: Have you ever heard of a Sooah Kim before? (11:14 A.M.)

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N | Hi hons! Thank you for reading the 2nd chapter! I hope I got you guys more curious about the story hehe. Anyway, I have some announcement: I have finals for a major coming up this week so I’ll spend the next whole week studying. So, I’ll try if I can update the next chap the week after next week, on Sunday, too. But nothing is certain yet as I still have some uni stuff to do. Don’t worry, I only have 3 projects left to do to finally finish this sem. So as soon as I’m done with them, expect more frequent updates from me!

If you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all in my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probable your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading and giving a chance to My Time! :”)

Notes: As you know, this is a mystery fic. So, it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

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thanks--for--listening · 3 years

Text

tethers

hi party people guess who finally finished her fic for the wilds! i’m tagging it as leatin but you could probably read it either in a ship way or just in a friendship way. takes place after the ocean scene but we’re pretending Leah hasn’t gone into the woods to find nora yet. (also on ao3)

The sun was overbearing. Leah tried to open her eyes, but the glare surrounded her, didn't leave room for anyone or anything else. There was no warmth or feeling — just light. She might have compared it to drowning, but the metaphor didn’t hold up anymore. She knew what drowning looked like; there was nothing bright about it.

The waves had been all darkness, pain and pressure toying with her like she weighed nothing at all. She’d heard the ocean described as unforgiving before, and she hadn’t understood it until she was out there. The water didn’t care about her. It didn’t care about anyone. There was fear, a survival instinct that couldn’t be ignored, but there was also something intoxicating about its indifference. Giving up control offered a serenity she hadn’t prepared for. A part of her still longed for it, although it wasn’t strong enough to break through the sun, to drag her up and off the beach.

The constant light might have tricked her into thinking she’d succeeded, but she was pretty sure the afterlife wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Every muscle in her body groaned, as if they’d rusted over in however long she’d been asleep. There was a quiet but constant pounding in her head, and she let it ground her, let every beat sync up with her heart and confirm that she was still alive.

Her other sensations came back slowly. The hunger, deep in her gut, made itself known in whispers that weren’t easily ignored. The sand beneath her, damp and cold, served as a constant reminder of the hell she was waking up to. But more than anything, it was the feeling of a hand running through her hair that motivated her to blink away the sun and let reality come back into focus.

Fatin wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were cast outward, at the infinite ocean surrounding them. She stared at it like she could see past it, like there was more to look at than their own personal wasteland. Like she saw something that wasn’t there.

Leah’s eyes drifted to her hands. She could feel her right one still absentmindedly combing through her hair, but her left was in its own world. Her fingers kept moving, up and down and left to right, slowly then quickly, then slowly again. It looked sporadic at first, but the longer she watched, the more she felt like there was a rhythm to it. A pattern, although one she couldn’t decipher.

Fatin glanced down, as if she felt her eyes on her. “You’re up.” The worry in her voice contradicted the smile on her face. “How do you feel?”

“Drowsy.” Speaking took more effort than it should have. Her voice carried it's now characteristic crack, the sound almost not coming out at all.

“Here,” she said as she reached for a water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

Fatin helped her up, held her head as she drank. It didn’t matter that the water was warm — it came with the same relief it had in the few weeks they’d been here. Every sip calmed her, brought her back down to Earth, dampened the pounding and gnawing and rebelling going on inside her body, if only for a moment. Calm wasn’t something she held onto for very long.

She put the bottle down, shifted so her head ended up in Fatin’s lap. They’d never talked about it, this position she often found herself in. Leah wasn’t even sure how it had started. All she knew was that she liked the way it felt, to lay against her, to feel the warmth of another person underneath her. And after that day they’d spent searching, when all she could think about was Fatin dead in a ditch somewhere, Leah couldn’t deny the comfort it gave her, knowing for certain that she was okay. That she was alive.

Fatin never stopped her, not once.

“How—uh, how are you feeling? You know, up here?“ Fatin tapped on the side of her head as she asked. The hesitation was so unlike her. Guilt reared its ugly head, reminded her of an indisputable fact: Fatin’s fear, her worry, it was all her fault. They were in hell, and she was making things worse. The way she always did.

“Better.” She answered confidently, even though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was true or not. The desperation was out of the forefront, at the very least. But she wasn’t sure that would classify her as healed. As normal. Leah didn’t think she’d ever fit that label, not before this fucking island and definitely not on it. She did her best to ignore the sinking feeling that she might not find normal anytime after their castaway adventure, either. She would always be this way. That girl who ran to the ocean, she would live somewhere inside her forever.

Fatin sighed in relief, and all at once she made the white lie worth it. “That’s two things to celebrate.”

“Two?”

Her face lit up. “We’ve got food now. Starvation is officially put on hold.”

She tried to smile. Truly, she did, but whether it was her body’s slow reaction time or her mind’s lingering hold on her, something wouldn’t let it happen. Pretending kept getting harder, and she couldn’t help but worry about what happened when she lost the ability entirely.

Fatin noticed. She always seemed to notice. “Aren’t you happy?” She could hear it in the way she spoke. The concern. Leah hated it, hated being the reason for it.

“Yeah,” she answered a little too quickly. “Sorry. I’m just really tired. But that’s good, it really is.”

She didn’t look like she believed her. Leah didn’t know how to explain it, her lack of response. It was a little bit of everything: the dread at thinking about what came with survival, the fog from whatever she’d swallowed not fully faded, the lifetime spent not knowing how to feel anything the right amount. She was all or nothing, always had been. And right now, no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape the nothing.

There was a numbness to it. She’d get moments, watching the world speed around her while she felt trapped in slow motion. The island had broken it initially, but the adrenaline faded with every day that passed, and it took any sort of regulation with it. All she was left with was her typical, fucked up self, her zero to a hundreds. And everyone else was left with it, too.

“What was that thing you were doing earlier?” She asked it mostly as a distraction. Fatin may not have been as shallow as she’d once thought, but she also didn’t pass up many opportunities to talk about herself. The attempt may have been futile, but it could work, if it managed to catch her off guard. Or if Fatin decided to amuse her and ignore the obvious avoidance.

Leah knew she had her when she scrunched her eyebrows together. “What thing?”

“With your hands. You were, like, not tapping exactly, but you were doing...I don’t know. You were moving a lot.”

“Oh. That.” Fatin didn’t blush, not visibly, but she’d seen that smile before. She knew what it meant. “It’s nothing.”

“Does it mean something?”

“No. It’s stupid. Just an old habit.”

She could hear the lie. It didn’t make sense, how something so inconsequential could be worth hiding. Genuine curiosity snuck in, made her forget about distractions entirely. “It’s not like you could embarrass yourself more than I already have, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Leah saw the smile tug at her lips. “Okay,” Fatin said, sounding more herself. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. My reputation depends on it.”

She forced her hand up to her lips, weakly mimicked zipping her mouth shut. Her arm screamed, but the effort was worth it for the laugh she got in return.

“Alright. Sometimes, when I get bored, or when I need to get out of my head, I mentally run through whatever piece I’m learning.”

The connection took a second. “You mean cello pieces?”

Fatin nodded. “I use my thumb as the makeshift fingerboard,” she said, holding her hand up in front of her. “And I just...go through the motions.”

Leah watched as her fingers moved. She could see it more clearly now, the intentionality of it all. The routine. She moved quickly, confidently, with so much purpose and familiarity. It was something so small, but she felt like it shattered whatever was left of the misconstrued perception she’d had of her.

Fatin stopped after a few seconds. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s cool.”

She laughed. “If you think this is cool, your social education has failed you.”

“I’m serious.”

“Leah, it’s the cello. Nothing about the cello is cool.”

“Anything is cool if you’re good at it. And I heard you’re, like, really good. Like, Juilliard-level good. That’s cool.”

The smile faded. Leah didn’t understand it, felt a quiet desperation to get it back. “Yeah. Well, if one good thing comes out of this, it’s that I can leverage my parents to make sure I never have to go there. Not sure they’ll be able to say no to me ever again.”

“You don’t wanna go? But isn’t that, like, the be-all end-all school for music?”

“Yeah, if you wanna spend the rest of your life playing concertos written by dead racist white men and wasting your best years wearing concert attire.” She tried to smile, but Leah could see right through her. “You know me, I can’t live my life confined to an all black wardrobe.”

She hesitated, just for a second, before asking, “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”

For a second, Leah thought she’d deny it, but instead she just shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time if you wanna explain it.” She motioned vaguely around then. “Schedule’s all clear for the foreseeable future.”

Their eyes met, and even if she’d been strong enough to move, she would have sat frozen in place. Fatin had a way of staring into her like she could see every thought running through her head, like every emotion she had was out on display. It was captivating, and fascinating, and terrifying, and Leah never wanted it to stop.

“My parents started me in lessons when I was little,” she said after a minute. “Tends to come with the territory when you’re first gen. Music is supposed to teach you discipline and patience. Immigrant parents eat that shit up.”

“I’m sure you took to that lesson real fast.”

Fatin cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah. Throw your kid into nonstop music lessons before they know how to read, and you could come out of it with me, every parent’s dream. Clearly I’m a walking success story.”

“I mean, you kinda are. That is, if you’re really that good.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m fucking amazing. But it isn’t because of some child prodigy bullshit, or because I have an abundance of patience. Most people aren’t born good at something. You have to work for it.”

She meant to ask it as a joke, but sincerity slipped out. “And...that’s what you did? You worked at it?”

“You don’t have to act all surprised. Yeah, I worked at it. I worked at it a lot.” She held up her hand, and for the first time Leah saw the rough calluses Dot had mentioned earlier. “You don’t get monstrosities like these without spending a lot of fucking time on it.”

“Wow.” She tried to imagine it, a tiny Fatin slaving away at an instrument that had to be just as big as her. A teenage Fatin locked away in a practice room, playing over and over and over again, wounds reopening so many times that even weeks on an island couldn’t properly heal them. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about it.”

She didn’t say anything. For a second she wondered whether she’d gone too far, crossed a line she hadn’t realized was there. An apology was sitting at the tip of her tongue when Fatin sighed and said, “I used to be.”

She could hear it, the way they were treading into delicate territory. Part of her was scared to keep going. Every one of her companions seemed to have their own personal landmines hidden in their time before the crash, and the last thing she wanted was to set off an explosion. She knew how to blow up, but she wasn’t strong the way Fatin was — if she missed a step, she may not be able to put the pieces back together.

It was the feeling of Fatin’s left hand stalled in the movement, still fingers content to stay tangled in her hair, that made Leah push aside the fear. She could beat herself up later for whatever mistakes she was bound to make, but she couldn’t do nothing.

“What changed?” The words were an invitation, one she wasn’t sure Fatin would accept. The pain was palpable. Her eyes drifted away from Leah and back out into the ocean, and a small part of her wanted to go back in, to find whatever it was Fatin kept searching for.

“I did, I guess.” She spoke like she was saying the words for the first time. “It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t a popular kid. I had a weird name and a weird family. I brought the wrong lunches to school and I wore the wrong clothes, and no one cared to look any deeper. But none of that mattered, because I had music.”

Leah could see the light creep into her eyes, slowly, quietly. “When I played,” she continued, “I understood everything. I could hear it, the way each note, each piece, was supposed to sound. I could practice, and practice, and practice, and I could get better. I could learn to do everything right.”

She talked about playing the way people talked at funerals: reminiscing about someone who was already gone, picking only the happy memories and pretending for just a moment that no other ones existed. And Leah knew it wasn’t the whole story, but there was something compelling about listening, about imagining a world in which everything made sense and no error was so abhorrent it couldn’t be fixed with a slight adjustment.

“By the time I was in middle school, my future had already been decided. I’d spent every day after school rehearsing, spent every summer at music camps. I never complained, because I truly thought there was nothing else. Nothing could be better than sitting on stage, impressing rows and rows of people who could only dream about having what I had.”

“It sounds amazing.” Leah hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it was true. It reminded her of writing. Searching for the right words, the right structure, the right pacing. The satisfaction that came with it. She may not have had an audience to look out on, but she’d had glimpses of the feeling. The ability to control the world around you, just for a second.

“It was, at first. Every crowd, every teacher and ensemble member, they all wanted to hear me. They wanted to be me. And maybe it’s shallow, but there’s nothing more intoxicating than being desired.”

“It’s not shallow.” It came out as a whisper. Leah turned her eyes down, even when she was certain Fatin’s had found their way back to her. She knew if she gave her the chance, Fatin would see everything, all the guilt and pain and humiliation. The pages might have burned, but the need for them, for what they once meant, hadn’t turned into ashes yet.

“Maybe it’s not.” Her voice felt softer as she spoke again. “But it’s easier to say that when it’s coming from an audience. From something you have to earn. It’s a lot harder when it’s coming from boys who see a body instead of a person.”

“So that’s what changed.” She tried to put some humor into the words. The last thing she wanted Fatin to think was that she was judging her. She might have done it before, but the high ground she’d once placed herself on was sinking by the minute.

Fatin chucked. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s the classic story, really. Girl turns fourteen, goes through puberty, and suddenly popularity is offering itself up on a silver platter held by boys in football jerseys and envied by girls with Pom Poms. Trends shift. What was out is now in. And for the first time in my life, I was in.”

“That sounds nice.” She wasn’t sure whether she was lying or not. It did sound tempting, but popularity had always seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

Fatin just sighed. “Part of it was. I’d spent years not really interacting with anyone outside of a rehearsal hall. I thought it’d be hard. But when you're used to searching for emotion in sheet music, faces become so much easier. All these kids projected everything, gave me all the right answers. I never even had to try.”

So much of who she was began to make sense. Her perceptiveness, her empathy, her uncanny ability to read a room. Fatin had gone from an open book to a complete mystery in the last few weeks, and for the first time since, Leah felt like she was beginning to figure her out.

“The people I started to hang with, they were so different from everyone I’d ever met,” Fatin continued. “They were bold. Independent. Filled with confidence that wasn’t reliant on anyone else. It was…” she shrugged. “It was revolutionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They showed me an entirely different life. Everything I’d thought I could only get while performing was out there, waiting for me. And the options — there were so many options. For so long, music was the only thing I cared about, because it was the only thing that ever made me feel...I don’t know. Seen. Heard. Wanted. But when the world started paying attention to me, I started paying attention back. And the cello wasn’t enough anymore.”

“So, why didn’t you stop?”

Fatin rolled her eyes. “You say it like it’s that easy. I could complain until I ran out of air, but that wasn’t going to change anything. Juilliard was my future. My parents weren’t going to let me throw that away for complete uncertainty.”

“Even if you didn’t want it anymore?”

“What I want hasn’t mattered in that house in a long time.”

Leah hesitated, before asking, “Is that why you’re going to move?”

“You could say that.” She seemed to search for the words. “I thought I’d...my mom, I thought she’d…” Fatin sighed, and she could hear the way her breath shook, went unsteady for just a moment before she kept talking. “I don’t have anyone on my side. The only thing that could keep me there are my brothers, but I’m not what they need. Not now.”

She let the silence fill the space around them. She’d only known Fatin from glimpses in the halls, but in each one she was always talking. Surrounded by people. The idea of her alone was almost unimaginable. “At least you have your friends. I’ve only ever had one, and I went and threw him away.” She thought about Ian, about the tent, about every moment she’d blocked out when her view had been dominated by hand-written notes and whispered confessions. “You still have people to go back to.”

Fatin just shook her head. “It’s not that kind of relationship, hon. We don’t...the people I spend my time with, we don’t talk about the real stuff. I’m not sure any of them are gonna wanna stick around after I come back with all this.”

Leah frowned. “But what about the guys you…”

“The ones I’ve fucked?” Leah nodded. “No. Everything is temporary with them. It’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah. We worked because we both knew what we were getting into. They used me, and I used them. They wanted a good time, and I...I wanted that feeling back. The applause.” She exaggerated the word, like she wanted it to be a joke. It didn’t work. “I wanted more of it. I wanted them to need me more than I needed them.”

“That sounds—”

“You can say it. I already know.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m a skank, and I’m taking all of us women down with me and my reckless promiscuity.”

“I was just going to say it sounds lonely.”

She watched Fatin bite her lip, turn her eyes up toward the sky. Leah looked up with her. The clouds could have been painted, they were moving so slowly. It calmed her, although she couldn’t figure out why.

“There are worse feelings,” Fatin finally said, “than laying with someone who wants you, even if it won’t last.”

He crept in quickly, reminded her of the pain of being left, abandoned, desired and then repulsed. She thought about the dark that had followed and never stopped, the missed calls and the unheard screams. The deafening thud in her head telling her to swim until she reached the end. She thought about the paranoia, the intensity of knowing when something was wrong but having no way to prove it, no way to fix it.

“Fatin,” she said softly, eyes still glued to the clouds. “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t think I want to go back home, either.”

She could feel the stare, but she avoided it. “You don’t have to go home.”

“I have nowhere else to go. And even if I make it back, I’ll have nothing. No one.”

“That’s not true. You’ll have me.” Fatin put her hand on her chin, tilted her head, waited until their eyes met. “And there’s no if about it. We will make it out of here. I promise.”

“It’s not just the island. I can’t leave all my problems in my childhood bedroom. I can’t walk out of my own head. I…” she tried not to, but she felt the tear slip out anyway, felt it make its way down past her chin. “I don’t know how to live like this forever.”

Fatin bent over and hugged her, brought their heads together in a way Leah didn’t think was physically possible. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say that everything’s going to be easy. But I know it’ll get better.”

“How? How do you know?”

“Because nothing could possibly be worse than this.” Fatin raised her head, but she kept her hand in her hair. Leah let the motion bring her back down, let it fight off the waves as best as it could.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there. Long enough for the panic about the future to subside. Long enough for Dot to come over with food. Fatin eased her up, helped her eat slowly, and Leah was grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d have had the self control not to over-indulge without her.

Sleep threatened, tried to tug at her eyelids when Fatin pulled her back down into her lap. She resisted, searched for something to focus on and found the ocean in front of them. The moment leading up to it had been a bit of a blur, desperation blocking out the rest of the world, but she knew who she’d left on the beach. She knew who’d had to watch.

“Hey,” Leah forced herself to tear her gaze off the sea, to look her in the eye. To not hide from the pain. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that yesterday.”

Fatin shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I know you...you’re not wired like everyone else. You have to be stronger. And that sucks, it really, really does. But promise me something, okay?” Leah nodded, and Fatin put her hands on her cheeks, made sure she couldn’t look away, even if she’d wanted to. “If you ever start feeling that much darkness again, don’t run to the waves. You run to me.”

She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself to do anything but nod. Fatin stared at her for another moment, searched her eyes for something and seemed to find it. She let go, but her hand didn’t make its way back to her hair. Instead, they formed fists at her sides, held nothing but air and frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Fatin.”

Leah could feel the breath she took. It was heavy, weighted with burdens Leah knew and ones she didn’t. “I’m sorry.” She spoke to the ground instead of at her. “When you ran out there, I didn’t know how to get to you. I didn’t know how to bring you back.”

“But you did.” This time it was Leah who searched, who’s eyes begged her to listen, to believe her. “Rachel may have carried me to shore, but you saved me, too, Fatin.”

Leah reached for her hand, unraveled it until it fit inside her own. She ran her fingers over the calluses, the marks that told a deeper story than she’d ever suspected. Part of her wondered if they’d ever go away, if any of their pasts would leave them unmarked, or if they’d have to carry those scars forever.

“You know what,” Fatin said after a moment, “you should come with us. Dot and I, you should live with us in LA after this.”

She tried to imagine it: a tiny apartment, the three of them desperately trying to figure out adulthood on their own. It sounded crazy, and unpredictable, and reckless. She wanted it more than anything.

“Okay, but on one condition: you have to play the cello for me, at least once.”

Fatin scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I just need to hear what all the fuss is about! If I’m living with a music virtuoso, I wanna get an exclusive performance before you retire all together.”

She rolled her eyes, but a grin fought its way through. “I’m not opposed to the idea of playing again, so long as it’s for you.”

“Really? Just for me?”

Fatin fake sighed. “Alright, Dot can listen too, I guess. But my piece selection will consist exclusively of Top 40 covers. If you hear the real stuff, you might become possessed like my parents and try to ship me off to Juilliard in my sleep.”

“Possessed? So what, you’re some kind of Siren now?”

She held her hands up in fake surrender. “I’m just stating facts. My playing convinced my immigrant parents to push their daughter toward a career in the arts. Who knows what other power it holds.”

They laughed, and Leah kept to herself the thought that she could never be a Siren. Sirens were supposed to be tempting only from afar, their beauty a mirage meant to lead sailors astray; the closer she looked, the more confident she became that Fatin was no facade. She might have been the realest thing Leah had.

“If I’m being honest, I kind of miss it.” She looked back at the island. Leah watched the way she stared at it, the hints of appreciation that slipped into her gaze. “This place may be a living nightmare, but it would be a hell of a spot to play. Not for an audition or an audience or anything. Just for the beauty of it.”

“What’s the piece? The one you were practicing before you came here?”

“You wouldn’t know it. Unless you’re a closeted classical music fan.”

“Can you show me what it sounds like?”

Fatin turned toward her and smiled. Leah knew she felt everything in extremes, but she was certain that she could spend forever looking at Fatin’s smile and never grow tired of it.

She began to hum. It started off fast, the notes bouncing from high to low and back again before Leah could even really process them. The cello was about as foreign to her as any other instrument, but even she could tell it sounded hard. The movements she’d seen earlier began to make sense, the speed at which her hands had shifted. It was impressive, even now, with no instrument in sight.

When she began to slow down, each note taking up more and more time, Leah closed her eyes. She could hear it now. The timidness that had appeared at the start faded, and all that was left was the emotion. The passion. Part of her longed to point to it, to show her that it hadn’t vanished the way she’d thought, but the last thing she wanted to do was stop the music. So instead she kept her mouth shut and just listened.

Their hands had found their way back to one another. She let them stay there, momentarily intertwined. Her body still ached but she ignored it, forced her energy into memorizing this moment. When she’d jumped into the ocean, she hadn’t felt strong enough to pull herself back. Her brain could be so selective, so misleading. It could steal the few tethers she did have, leaving her disjointed from everyone around her, from reality itself. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it, but she wanted to try. In her mind’s brief period of peace, she silently vowed to make as many as she could, to stock up on moments that made her feel grateful to be alive. She started with this: Fatin’s melody, accompanied only by the quiet push and pull of the waves.

#ahh ok here we are #i spent the majority of my time writing this frustrated bc i never felt like the flow really came together the way i wanted it to #oh well #here it is anyway #pls tell me if you like it i thrive on the validation from others #the wilds #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #leatin #leah x fatin #TFLAO3 #fanfic

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jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 20 - The Queen’s Cruelty

Staring blankly at the art on the underside of your canopy, you try to unravel all that occurred tonight.

“Though I trust it will not come to that. You are a force of nature of itself, Honey.” Reaching for your hair, Varis takes a strand of it between two fingers, much like he had when you first met him. “One I hope to claim for myself.”

It is taking all your control in that moment to not recoil in disgust, letting him twirl your hair between his fingers. You’re already shaken by what he’s unveiled to you in this trip, your mind spinning in circles trying to figure out what he could possibly do with knowledge like this.

“But...I am happy working for Zenos.” You murmur, frowning deeply. You meet his gaze head on despite your voice wavering slightly. “Ignoring the sex, loathe as I am to admit it, I have enjoyed our banter, our duels. And I don’t think you can give that to me.”

Varis studies you silently, hand dropping from your hair and you swear you hear the guard behind you reaching for something. Instincts kicking in, you spin around and strike at his wrist, effectively knocking the gun he had just grabbed from his hand. Swiftly, you grab that same wrist and quickly spin behind him to twist his arm behind his back, grunting as he whines in pain as you kick the gun out of arm’s reach.

Varis is still quiet through the whole event, hands tucked behind his back as a covetous look fills his gaze. Looking down at the guard you had disarmed, he tuts. “While I appreciate your quick action for her speaking out of turn against me...you are far out of your league.” He hums, eyes sliding back up to you. “Nonetheless...this is an unfamiliar feeling to me.” Varis chuckles, eyes narrowing.

“For all my life, I have had everything I have ever desired handed to me without question. Women have been no different. Any woman would be grateful for the attention I have basked you with, Honey.” The way he says your name makes you sick to your stomach, a sort of wanting that sounds warped and twisted. “No one has resisted me as much as you have. It will make claiming you all the more rewarding.”

Whereas anytime you were forced to be in Varis’ company only filled you with indescribable hate, now you felt unnerved and wary of his presence. Something about his attitude changed where you were concerned and your instincts screamed at you everytime to give him a wide berth. You had hit the jackpot as it were in terms of information, the only issue is you didn’t know what to do with it, and you had no way of contacting your superiors.

You had to wonder if they were worried about you. Surely they kept track of you in the news, but you wondered if they tried keeping track of you with shadier means. Zenos destroying your phone effectively killed any contact you had with them. Zenos making you his personal bodyguard scattered months worth of carefully laid plans like leaves on the wind. And after seeing first hand what the personal technology the Galvus name was capable of, there was no way you were getting any inside info out of the compound.

It’s probably best it remains that way. May the Twelve save your soul when the police find out you’ve been fucking the heir’s son because you wanted to. Really, you had no idea how things could get any worse.

Well, Varis could continue holding you hostage like he had been. It had only been two days since Varis had shown you the Aetherochemical Research facility, your mind still unable to fathom it. You knew it might as well have been the closest thing to rocket science, so you didn’t feel too bad for not understanding it, but the persisting feeling of something much bigger at stake wouldn’t leave you alone.

It was rare your gut was ever wrong, especially when you felt it so strongly. You wish you could explain the feeling, because you were positive that normal people didn’t have a gut feeling so intense it sat at the back of their minds. Anytime you had tried explaining it to Y’shtola and Lyse they had brushed it off as you just being perhaps a little paranoid, but you were never wrong.

Whatever it was, you would just have to be on the lookout for it.

Dressed for the day, you dust yourself off as you waltz down to Varis’ office where you had begun to meet him to start the morning. He started his days a little later than his son, having no wish to work out at the crack of dawn. You leave out much later than Zenos does as a result, leaving you restless with nothing to do with the extra free time.

Reaching the door, you knock twice as you hear not just one, but two voices from inside. Raising an eyebrow, you hear a “come in” from the other side of the door, hand reaching for the knob and giving a solid turn as you step inside the office.

To your surprise, you meet not just golden eyes, but a pair of ruby ones as well.

“Good morning, Honey.”

Seated in one of the plush lounge chairs lies Elidibus, his ruby eyes twinkling with curiosity and concealed amusement. You feel almost as if he is studying you somehow, starting to feel unnerved by his presence, but for different reasons entirely.

As if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning.” You return with a bow, awaiting your orders. “Good morning to you as well, Emissary.”

Elidibus gives a polite nod of his head, a welcoming smile on his face. “It has been a few months since we’ve seen each other last. Have you been well?”

Nodding, you cast a wary glance at Varis who somehow seems less annoyed. “Yes, I have been well.” Focusing on Varis now, you take a deep breath. “What are my orders for today?”

Frowning, Varis closes a folder you didn’t notice was on his desk and fixes you with a disappointed look. “Due to the nature of business Elidibus and I must discuss, I am unable to keep you as my bodyguard for the upcoming months. You may return to your duties with Zenos.”

Shock stills your tongue for a moment, genuine surprise on your eyes as confusion stalls your thoughts. Brain finally catching up, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near your son.”

Instead of frowning, Varis smirks, reclining back in his chair. “This is true, but unfortunately it is more important that this information regarding my campaign trail remains classified. Your actions and failures with Garlond’s bodyguard have proven you untrustworthy.” His eyes narrow, but his smirk remains present. However, if you wish to make your position permanent...you may stay.” He pauses, smirk growing wider despite you not gracing him with an answer. “Loathe as I am to send you back to him, it will make winning you from him all the more satisfying.”

You can feel bile nearly come up your throat at those very words, quickly composing yourself as you give a deep bow. “I understand.” You reply, knowing you got off lucky this time and at least won’t have to serve under him for the foreseeable future. Giving one final bow, you turn to exit the room, nearly reaching the door before you sense something flying for your head.

With preternatural reflexes you turn just in time to catch it, finding you had caught what looks to be an inkwell that was once sitting upon Varis’ desk. Examining it, you look back at the two men in the room, finding Varis looking at Elidibus in question. Sliding your gaze to Elidibus, his own is even more scrutinous than before, though he seems to also look surprised. You didn’t even hear him move to stand. “Can I get an explanation as to why I had something thrown at the back of my head?” You ask, staring both men down.

“I have heard rumors of your skill, and merely wished to test it for myself.” Elidibus answers, a purr to his voice as he circles the desk to retake his seat.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just ask to see me fight?” You huff angrily, tossing the inkwell back at him.

Astonishingly, he catches it without missing a beat.

“That is true,” he sighs, rolling the inkwell around in his hand, ruby eyes looking at you in a new light. Now you especially get the feeling he knows something you don’t. “If you don’t mind, perhaps I will come watch a spar with yours. That is, if young Zenos does not mind.”

Huffing a laugh, you give him a sarcastic look. “Oh yes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.” You drawl, complete with an eye roll. How you felt so brazen in front of Elidibus was anyone’s guess, especially given you were in front of your boss as well. There was a strange sense of ease you felt around the Emissary. Or rather you didn’t feel you had to be so on guard around him. Given his relationship to Varis, you would think he would put you incredibly on edge.

Strange.

“Either way, I will take my leave.” You bow and turn back around to open the door and step out into the hallway.

That was weird, you think as you head to grab a few extra things from upstairs before heading back down to catch a car ride to the office. Zenos has been long gone of course, having done his training and headed off to work well over an hour ago, and your heart stutters in your chest to even think about seeing him once more. It had been well over a month since you had been able to speak with him; winter’s chill had finally set in and his gaze was as cold as the wind outside. Not that you would ever admit to anybody, most of all yourself, you were nervous.

Extra knick knacks in tow, you head on down to the front door and step outside to hop in the car where the chauffeur awaits. Yuyusho gives you a gentle greeting as you step inside, somewhat soothing your nerves. Engaging in some small talk helps keep your mind at ease as he drives along, Yuyusho driving neatly as he safely navigates the bustling streets of downtown Kugane. Once at the Galvus highrise, you swallow thickly, wishing silently Yuyusho would’ve run over a broken bottle or something and popped a tire. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back, so you exit the car and wave goodbye and head on in.

It’s strange to enter the building alone, not having to flank either Zenos or Varis as they go about their business. Building security welcomes you as you head toward the elevators, and you're thankful that Zenos takes after his father and keeps his office on the uppermost floors. This gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to say when you get up there and face him.

Would he be cold toward you still? Hell, did he even know you were on your way? He had to, right? Would he be happy to see you, but wouldn’t show it like a normal person? Would he be happy in his own “Zenos” way? Maybe he’d tell you to die in a fire.

The more questions popped up, the sicker you felt until you had to stop the elevator on the closest floor and briskly walk to the closest restroom. Splashing water on your face, you gaze at yourself in the mirror, a few stray hairs clinging to your skin.

What were you so nervous for?

This man had seen you naked. Twice.

And despite him not being your first, you know he’s seen the most vulnerable parts of you had never dared show anyone. Not even Lyse or Y’shtola. You hand this man’s ass to him on a daily basis for crying out loud. He should be afraid to see you.

Yet, here you are, anxiety twisting your gut like you’re somehow a teenager working up the courage to ask their crush out on a date.

There was so much unsaid about your relationship. Perhaps sex did not change things for him, but it certainly did for you. You had never been a blushing maiden saving herself for marriage, but to you, sex was not just about the sex itself. The intimacy of it all, the kissing, the touching, how they would linger on your skin for hours after...that is what led you to Estinien.

That is what made everything with Zenos so confusing.

In the back of your mind, you knew why you were afraid. To face the unsaid, to unpack the feelings beginning to grow out of control was to acknowledge you felt anymore more than annoyance for the Galvus heir.

And as a fucking undercover cop, that just would not do.

It would be so much easier if he just treated you like shit in bed! How could you have ever guessed he would be a considerate, passionate lover? Any other day, he spoke to you as if you were his servant, barked at you, insulted you to the point that anyone else would’ve cried or filed a lawsuit by now. But in his arms you felt safe.

You felt like you belonged there.

You felt like he cared.

Words are the only thing you understand.

You watch your eyes widen in the mirror, realization dawning on you.

Touch.

Zenos understood touch.

Twisted as it was, it made so much sense now why he was never bothered by you kicking his ass. Why he always saw your manhandling him as just friendly banter and flirting. Why he held you close in the fountain, why he never let anyone else near you, why he felt like he was making love to you--

A hysterical laugh bubbles up from your throat, escaping too fast to catch, and another one follows soon after. What did it say about you that a monster like him figured out how to communicate his feelings to you in a way you understood before you could do the same for him?

Not that you didn’t know this already, but by the Twelve, you were fucked.

Smoothing your hairs back in place, you dust yourself off and straighten up in the mirror. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, you stride out the restroom feeling a little better, but not any more confident. You won’t let that stop you however, head held high as you head back to the elevators and resume your trip up the building.

Reaching the upper floors, you take one final breath before stepping out. Looking left and right, you find the hall is surprisingly quiet, not dissimilar to how it had been your first few days here. However, as the months had gone on, employees would chat more and converse amongst themselves. It was mostly due to fear of upsetting Zenos somehow that had kept them quiet, and you guessed that in your absence, he had been taking out that excess energy on his subordinates.

Frowning, no matter how much you wanted to see him, treating people, even if they were his employees, like shit was unacceptable. Feeling a bit more sure, you stride down the hall and make a beeline for his office. Passing by cubicles and copiers, you can see various expressions on their faces, ranging from surprise to relief at seeing you pass by. You swear you hear someone whisper “thank the kami” as you head by. Fixing your jaw, you reach the opulent doors that lead to Zenos’ office and knock three times, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Sounding entirely too much like his father, you open the door, cool air brushing across your face as you step inside. The grand door shuts behind you and across the way you can see Zenos sitting at his desk, not an onze of surprise on his sharp features. In fact he’s scowling at you, so much so that if looks could kill you’re sure you would’ve taken psychic damage from how hard he is glaring at you. Naturally, instead of offering an olive branch, you go straight for the throat.

“Well don’t look too happy to see me.” You tease, throwing a smirk his way, though it fades as you realize he isn’t rising to your bait.

Maintaining his frown, his fist clenches tighter around the pen in his hand. “I’m not.” He responds, clipped and to the point, his eyes jolting where you missed Livia sitting on the couch in your spot. Glaring at her for no reason other than the fact that you can, you repress a satisfied grin as Zenos orders her to leave. “I see father has deigned to take you back. You are dismissed.”

Livia, seeming to know what is best for her, stands and bows to Zenos, remaining entirely silent as she strides out the office without as much as a word. The door shutting again sounds much more final as it leaves you alone with Zenos in his office. Clearing your throat, you eye your spot, shrugging slightly. At least she’s warmedit up for you.

Before you can move to sit down, Zenos cuts you off. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Shooting him a deadly look, you find yourself getting annoyed quickly. “The fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m sitting down, you idiot.” You snap back. Zenos places his pen down with the utmost care, seeming to do so for worry of crushing it in his fist.

“I would have thought you had learned some respect while attending my father.” He seethes, the words scathing and meant to bite, but as usual you rise to the challenge.

“I kick your ass on the daily and you expect me to fear your old man?” You laugh, throwing your head back to cackle at the thought of allowing Varis to make you do anything. “The bastard’s lucky I didn’t kill him in his sleep. Trust me, I thought about it. I had plenty of opportunities to snap his silly, little neck.” The words sound wrong from your lips, not for the words themselves but how much you mean them.

Zenos seems to realize this too, but his expression doesn’t lighten in the least. “I see.” Is all he says, picking up his pen again. “Well, since you are here, I have some work for you to do.”

Arching a brow, you stand up straight and cock your hip out to the side. “What happened to your secretary? What’s-her-face,”

“I fired her.” Zenos interjects, looking more annoyed by the second. “Are you really going to stand there and continue to question me?” He places his pen down once more, standing to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. His suit is tailored to his form as usual, accentuating his figure deliciously to the point you can already feel desire creeping into your gaze. “I spent a month without your presence, and I must say, it helped me realize what a terrible subordinate you truly are.”

Snapped out of your shameless ogling, you fix Zenos with a menacing look, remaining still as he makes his way toward you. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are a terrible bodyguard.” He huffs, having made his way toward you. Looking down his nose at you like he did the first time he met you. “You talk back to your superiors. You think yourself untouchable and above consequences. You question orders instead of following them. Livia was the perfect picture of an ideal bodyguard. A silent shadow.”

Scoffing, you give him a sly look, seeing the lies in his words. “Really, Zenos. You’d have me no other way.”

This seems to anger him as he raises his fist as if to punch you but your reflexes are faster, blocking it without a flinch. You hold his hand, gripping his fist tight within your palm. “Now I have a question for you: when are you gonna sit and talk like a fucking adult and say what you really want to say, instead of trying to go back to treating me like shit, huh?”

Jerking his fist back, he says nothing and retreats to his desk, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor amongst the furniture. “Stand there for all I care. I have work to do.”

Sighing, you go ahead and plop down onto the closest couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table and prepare for yourself for a long, slow day.

As the morning drags on, Zenos seems set on ignoring you, scribbling away at Hydaelyn knows what. Once or twice you comply with his wishes and do run a few errands for him since it seems he really did fire his secretary. She was a nice girl and you could not understand what could have possibly led him to sacking her; she did her job well and was pleasant to talk to. If this is what just a month without you around was like, you hate to think about how much the long term employees had to deal with. No doubt the majority of them felt the paycheck was too nice to give up and would rather deal with their boss’ abuse.

Once again he wasn’t responding to any of your teasing, closing himself off and speaking to you in one word sentences. As the day waned on, you found that sad feeling creeping up again, just like you had felt that night at the gala. A wish to understand why he was being so cold to you, and what could be done to get back to normal.

Words are the only things you understand.

With the sun having set, you stand just outside the office, a stack of copies in your hand. It was easy to cling onto your pride, to try and maintain your moral high ground, because at this point it was the only thing you had. Because you knew as soon as you let go, that was it.

Would it be so wrong to be mine and mine alone?

Zenos had been vulnerable. He may not have realized it, but remembering that pained look on his face, the desperation to understand, he had bared his heart to you with sparkling clarity, and perhaps it was you who was closed off. In your fight to not give in, you had alienated yourself.

You could have easily left messages or snuck to see him during your time with Varis, anything to let him know that you still cared.

With a melancholy sigh and your mind made up, you push open the door and stride into the office, eyes set on the blond haired man across the room. “Zenos.”

He doesn’t even look up, still scribbling away at whatever documents are beneath his hands. While angered by this, you keep a cool head on your shoulders and make your way over to his desk. Standing in front of it, you place the papers down gently. “The files you wanted.”

Not that you were expecting any actual thanks, you’re still pissed when you don’t receive any. Deciding that your anger seems to be the only thing that ever gets anything out of him, you let the feeling take hold of you. “Zenos yae Galvus.” You growl, slamming your hands on the desk.

That seems to get his attention, if only because you slammed hard enough to cause his hand to jerk and ugly mark now lies upon whatever document he was writing. With a cool and relaxed tone that sounds like the calm before the storm, those blue eyes you adore look at you with a look that is venomous. “Speak quickly before I kill you.”

“You wish you fucking could.” You snap, jabbing a finger in his face. “We aren’t doing this bullshit. Not again.” The surety of your words makes him frown but he says nothing more, so you continue. “Are you really going to act like a child, again, because your father dragged me around? You heard him yourself; he’s the top dog around here so if I want to keep my head on my shoulders I better fucking listen to him! Didn’t you say that?”

You watch as his bottom lip nearly pokes out to pout but he stops himself. Barely. You're right and he knows it. “And what problem is it of mine?”

“What your problem is, is that you’re taking out your daddy issues on me! The only person on this damn planet that gives a damn about you!” You nearly yell, teeth bared as you let your emotions flow free. “I figured you’d be happy to see me again! I hated every moment of every day of every bell with that excuse of a man!” Your chest is heaving and you start to feel a little warm.

“You assume much, thinking I spent any time thinking about you.” Zenos scoffs, crossing strong arms across his broad chest, eyes narrowed on your form. “I knew you were foolish,”

You cut him off with a frustrated yell, close to ripping your hair out. He didn’t get it. He really didn’t get it.

There was only one way to get him to understand.

Marching around his desk, you take satisfaction in seeing the small amount of alarm in his expression as you give a firm push on the back of his chair that pulls him from his desk. Spinning him toward you, you waste no time straddling his lap, grabbing him by the hair and pulling back, finding him already half hard beneath you. A filthy moan comes from that pretty throat of his and you swallow it whole, pressing your lips to his in a crushing kiss, passion sweeping you away as you feel what it is to finally be near him like this after so long.

Your tongue demands entrance before he gets the chance to do it first, your hand having a firm grip on his hair as you bite harshly on his lip, hips already rolling into his own. You feel his hands snake around your body to crush you to him, pressing you closer than close as you finally part for air. “You fucking idiot,” you rasp, tilting his head to go for his neck, peppering kisses and love bites on his perfect skin, claiming what is rightfully yours.

It surprises you as much as it doesn’t as he turns into putty beneath your hands, any tension that he had held at the mere sight of you all day going away with his hands on your body. His hands are greedy, groping your ass, your hips, your thighs. Feeling, touching, as if you had disappeared from the very star and he was sure you would never return.

His hunger is deeper than you could have anticipated, for he steels his grip at your hips to grind against your core, standing to his feet to sit you on his desk, the documents atop it instantly forgotten. The change in control is so jarring, his hand reaching to pluck yours from his hair, pinning it to the wood beneath you. “Honey,” he breathes, his other hand leaving your hip to undo the button on your slacks.

Unzipping your pants, he shoves his hand in them with a small amount of decorum, fingers wedging themselves between your thighs before you can spread them wider. “Give me a second,” You hiss, wishing he didn’t have you crushed halfway beneath him with hardly any room to move.

“I won’t even give you that long.” He groans against your neck, finding what he was looking for as his fingers brush across your lower lips, still covered by your panties. Your hips jerk, almost to the point of embarrassment, having never felt so sensitive to a lover before. Granted in that entire month you hadn’t even seen Estinien; going without sex ever since the day Varis split you and Zenos apart. Zenos seems to notice this, pleased as he searches for what he knows will make you scream for him.

With that thought in mind, panic shoots through you, trying to shove him off you for at least five seconds. “I didn’t lock the door--”

“And I couldn’t give a fuck.”

The use of such foul language is enough to still your movements from shock alone, body going rigid until he pulls your head back further by your hair, lips ravishing your neck. It was already enough that you werent supposed to be fucking the Galvus heir in the first place, and here he was refusing to lock the door just in case someone wants to pay him an unexpected visit and finds you kneeling under the desk with his cock halfway down your throat.

Twelve above, the idea excites you more than it should.

Because what is a bigger fuck you to Varis than immedaitely being released from his side to go do the very thing that got you there in the first place? What would grind his gears more than showing Zenos how much you care in the only way he’ll understand?

At the very least the hour is late; most of the nine-to-five workers have gone home and if anyone pops in on you, it’ll be a janitor looking to clean Zenos’ already immaculate office. However, with his aggression already this high, you don’t doubt they’ll actually have something to clean later. In the corners of your vision you already see one of his pencil cups tipped over from how roughly he put you on the desk and you know the papers are crumpled beneath your ass. Humming, you let him have his way with you, knowing now that he needs this outlet.

“If anyone has missed me, it is you.” He purrs, feeling how wet you are for him. Before you can even open your mouth to protest he nips at your bottom lip, gasping at your look of surprise. “Your body will always tell the truth, my beast. I like that about you. You may curse my very name until your dying breath, but your body will always let me know just what you feel.” He continues brushing the pad over a finger between your lower lips, his other hand moving to unbutton your shirt. “I’ve been thinking...would you be opposed to wearing skirts? It would make this much easier.”

Clamping onto his shoulders, you try to push him off you but instead your arms curl around his broad frame. “I thought you wanted me to be a good bodyguard.” Your voice is already breathy, face warm from embarrassment. What happened to the control, the confidence you had walking in the room? Just a few touches, and now he’s got you bucking into his hands.

“It took me time to realize...but I want you to be no one else but yourself.” He whispers, finally slipping a finger inside. He lets your body adjust as you throw your head back, toes curling in your shoes. With gentle lips he trails kisses along your pulse, inhaling deeply to breathe you in. “Livia bored me. She obeyed every order, and never spoke out of turn.” He frowns, pumping his finger out of your wet sheathe.

Whimpering, you move your hands to grab for your pants as best as you are able with him halfway on top of you. Shoving them down, you try to lift your hips but Zenos is stubborn and continues to pump that single finger within you. “Let me get my pants off--” You snarl, kicking him in the shin, smacking him on the shoulder as he barks out a rich laugh.

“Very well.” Pulling his hand from your pants, he backs off entirely, your body immediately missing the warmth. Not hiding your confusion, you watch as he sits back in his chair, almost slouching as he gets comfortable. “Go on. Take them off.”

Flushing deeply, somehow you find yourself stuck with stage fright. “A-Are you going to just watch me?” you ask incredulously, shoving your blazer off your shoulders.

“Well of course. Why not make it interesting?” He croons, eyes half lidded and molten with lust.

Despite your continuing nervousness, when you have one of the most powerful men in the world looking at you like that, it’s hard to not feel at least a little sexy. While you were by no means a lady of leisure, you did your best to finish his task of unbuttoning your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders in a way you hope is sexy. You can’t help but feel a little silly, but Zenos’ attention is focused on you entirely, and judging by the tent going on in his pants, he likes what he sees.

You only wish you had cuter underwear, your panties and bra built to be practical and not for looks. You decide to leave your bra on for now and begin to push your pants down your legs, hands gliding across your skin as the clothing falls to the floor. As you bend over to kick out of them and get them off your ankles, you can’t help but stare at the obvious bulge in his pants, mouth watering as your eyes hone in on it. Continuing your way down to the floor, you rest on your knees and place your hands on his thighs, using force to start spreading them before you as he quickly catches on and splays his legs wide.

Scooting closer between them, your hands reach for his pants, caressing his length through the material, able to feel how firm and hot it is through his slacks. His breath hitches immediately, and you hazard a glance, finding his eyes still half lidded, but no less focused on you. He doesn’t look smug or amused, he looks almost…

Reverent.

With that in mind, you slowly unzip his slacks, hands fumbling in their hurry to free him from his underwear, which are of course as fine as the suits he wears. Face to face with the thing that rendered you unable to walk straight more than once, you give yourself a moment to look at it.

Most genitalia looked a little weird, but you had to give it to Zenos; he had certainly lucked out that it had looked as perfect as the rest of him. His length was just enough that you would need both hands to grip him effectively, and you didn’t even want to start on his girth because that was the start of all your problems. The skin is like satin beneath your fingertips, his abdomen twitching as he remains silently still at your exploration. While giving head was not your most favorite activity in the world, you had to admit you wanted to do this more than anything to speak in a language he understood.

Leaning forward, you press the head of his cock to your lips, tongue darting out to swipe the precum beading at the tip, the salty taste coating your tongue. Pressing forward, you take the head into your mouth, a second hitch of his breath all the encouragement you need. Patiently, you slick his length with your spit until your hands can glide along with ease, lips still wrapped around the head of his cock.

You have no practice with deepthroating, but have heard plenty of tips from coworkers and friends alike, relaxing your throat as best as you can to take him as deep as possible. Given how big he is, you know you can only go so far, but it seems to not take much, for you feel a hand snake into your hair, pulling gently. Glancing upwards, his head is thrown back, his mouth agape as a moan comes forth, a sigh of Honey on his lips. Just hearing that has you moan around his cock, Zenos’ thighs tensing further at the vibrations you send through him.

Fully enamored with your task, you allow him to bob your head up and down at a reasonable pace you can handle, his eyes coming back to look at your lips wrapped around his cock. He still has that reverent expression, bordering on grateful, edging on...adoration.

On something more.

“You feel,” He groans, hips threatening to jerk and push too far but you use your strength to hold him down as he uses your face, hand gripping tighter and tighter in your hair. “I’m close,” he grunts, and you take a deep breath, preparing for his orgasm.

He moans your name in bliss as he comes, cum shooting into your mouth and down your throat, and you do your best to swallow it all down. Pulling off, a last few drops spurt onto your lips and chest, the viscous liquid warm and sticky as it clings to your breasts. Reaching up with your fingers you swipe it off your skin, sticking your fingers in your mouth to lick them clean in an unintentionally lewd display.

You watch as he catches his breath, looking as if had sucked the soul from his body. His skin is entirely flushed, cock beginning to soften before your very eyes as his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.

"Stand up. Now." Zenos orders, still sounding breathless in his post orgasm haze. Standing to your feet, he grabs you fiercely by the hips and pushes you back toward the desk, feet scrambling for balance as he practically forces you onto it. You land on your back with no amount of grace, propping yourself up on your elbows as more of the items atop the desk tip over.

"Use your words you brute," your tirade is sharply cut off with Zenos ripping off your underwear, seams digging into your skin before they give way to his superior strength. Habit compels you to complain, but somehow his impatience is so arousing you find yourself once again shocked into silence. This gives Zenos plenty of time to scoot forward in his office chair and take a thigh in each hand, kissing the skin as one might worship a god. It is like night and day the way he treats you in bed. You knew he held you in high esteem, but only by touch do you truly grasp just how much.

It is evident in how he does not explicitly ask to do things to you, choosing to forgo words as he gazes up at you from beneath his lashes, lips drawing nearer to your molten core, asking permission with only his eyes. There is a beauty in the respect that he gives you, knowing full well he could use his strength to overwhelm you and take you hard and fast, but instead he chooses to be near…

Subservient.

His lips brush just across your petals, breath hot despite the fire you already feel between your own legs. Curling his arms around your thighs, he flexes his fingers into your flesh, gripping just to the point of pain as he holds you still. When his lips first touch your center you whimper, hips instinctively jerking forward into his face of which he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grips you a little tighter, as if to encourage you.

His tongue slips between your lower lips, tasting you, his eyes fluttering closed as he throws himself into his task. It is your turn for your head to fall back in bliss, a long moan pulled from deep within, the looming threat of a passerby having fled your mind. The heels of your feet dig into his back, your fists clench without anything to hold onto. Zenos devotes himself to his task as well as he would training, using his strength to subdue you so you don’t crush his head between your thighs.

Unable to take it anymore as he pushes you closer to orgasm, you finally lie back and thread your fingers through his hair, canting your hips toward his face and his mouth that is oh so lovely in this very moment. Your moans increase in pitch and frequency as he pushes you closer, that feeling of too close, too fast making itself known once again. Somehow only he has made you feel that way, as if he is giving you no other choice but to come.

When he hums, the vibrations shoot up your spine and you finally orgasm, crying out his name in abandon as you arch off the desk, crumpling the papers beneath you even further. Back arching taut like a bow, you clutch hard at his hair, the resulting moan providing an endless feedback loop of pleasure as the vibrations once again shoot through you as you still come down from your high.

Unable to hold fast to him any longer, you finally release his hair, watching as he sits up, licking his lips much like a cat. Only he is no house cat; he is a predator beyond compare, a beast in his own right. Something that could never be tamed or domesticated. Certainly not trained. A beast that would yield only to another just like it.

“Did you really not miss me at all?” you ask, wanting to hear it despite experiencing very clearly just how much he did. You allow him to move you as he wishes, his hand grabbing your own and pulling you up to a standing position. You give a sharp squeal as he unexpectedly spins you in his hold, pressing your back to his front.

He leans to brush his lips against your ear, his breathing ragged and torn with pleasure. “Such notions are beneath me.” He asks, his length nearly to full hardness and ready to go again. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point, but still, it was a wonder how you could go back to regular men after this.

He presses you harshly against the edge of the desk, the glossy wood pressing uncomfortably into your flesh. His hand presses firmly on your back urging you to lay your front flat against it, your hands shoving documents and stray pens aside. The cool surface does little for how warm you feel with him against you, the shuffling of clothing reaching your ears as you mull over how to respond.

“Well, I did.” You breathe, voice quaking much more than you’d like. “I-I missed you.”

His touch halts on you for a second, and fear grips your heart too tightly to even think about taking a look at his expression. Your face is on fire, a cocktail of embarrassment and vulnerability coursing through your veins. It feels like forever until he reaches for your left leg and hikes it up on the table, holding it in place as his other hand takes his cock and rubs it along your folds, slicking himself with your juices. Satisfied, he begins to feed himself slowly inside, his name torn from your lips as he slowly works himself inside.

He leans down above you, snaking a hand beneath your abdomen to hold you close to him, burying his face affectionately into your neck. You are surrounded by him entirely, his very existence eclipsing your entire being. It is hard to tell where he ends and you begin, especially as he is pushing those last few ilms of his cock deep inside you. Your hands reach for the other end of the desk to grab onto anything, until the hand that is holding your leg leaves it to grab your arm and pull it back toward his hair. You hold tight, enjoying the shiver he gives at the contact. Once he hilts himself fully he burrow further into your neck, tongue reaching out to taste and mark and claim.

He takes you.

He takes you as if there is no Galvus enterprises, no Varis, no Estinien.

As if you are not a cop and he, the son of a mob boss.

As if you are just a man and a woman in too deep but unable to turn back.

Every plunge of his cock into your core leaves you wailing beneath him, the desk shaking with the force of his thrusts, what few items remaining on the top rattling until they fall off entirely. You’re distantly aware of his computer monitor crashing to the floor but you cannot bring yourself to care and neither can Zenos, if anything he pounds harder, determined to bring you to the peak once more.

It’s personal.

Despite how much you don’t want it to be, you’re tired of fighting it. Fighting yourself.

When Zenos tilts your head to kiss him, you don’t bite back.

When you caress his face like one would a lover, you don’t think too hard on it.

And when he brings your world crashing down on you with another orgasm that has you crying his name out against his lips, you revel in the feeling of him being there to hold you through it all.

There’s no getting around that your skills have suffered slightly in your time apart from Zenos, who happily takes it upon himself to come to your room for your own personal wake up call. Smug as ever, he stands in your doorway already dressed and ready for the day as you chuck the smallest pillow you have at his infuriating face. He doesn’t even bother moving, cracking a joke that he would be more than willing to help you dress, to which you throw your alarm clock at him.

Of course, he catches it.

“Can't believe I’ve gotten this out of shape…” You sigh, throwing your head back to squeeze water directly into your mouth from your bottle. Sweat runs down your skin in small rivers, the air conditioning doing its job of keeping you cool. Seated upon the floor with your legs strewn, you look every bit unladylike as you are. Twisting the cap back on, you heave out a sigh.

“All because what? I got a few hits on you?” Zenos scoffs, holding an offending out expectantly. Scowling, you toss the water bottle at him rather than toward his hand, and he catches it without flinching.

“Yes.” You answer, smirking at him. “I can’t afford to have you catching up to me. Someone has to keep you in your place.”

He returns a smirk of his own, only his is tainted with desire. “Really now? I look forward to it.”

Finishing off the last of the water, he tosses it with perfect aim into the trash can, walking over to where you were seated upon the floor. Reaching out, he offers his hand and you grab it without a second thought, allowing him to pull you up to your feet.

“Do we have anything planned today?” You ask, heading to grab your things from the counter on the far wall.

“Today all that is on the agenda is to prepare for a trip; there is another charity event we must attend, as much as I hate to do so.” He drones, making his way toward the door. Before he exits, he looks at you over his shoulder. “We only have a few things to take care of at the office today before we return here and prepare for our trip. Or rather, you prepare for the trip. Packing my own things is beneath me.”

Not knowing what else to say aside from sticking your tongue out at him, you wave him off as he exits the gym and heads out to most likely shower before heading downtown. Slinging your gym bag over your shoulder, you make your way toward the door as well, opening it slowly only to find it stopped by a pale hand. Instinct immediately takes over, hand moving to strike whatever attacker had somehow made their way into the estate, before your hand only stops ilms from punching Elidibus in the face.

Releasing the breath you were holding, you nearly collapse from the shock alone, not expecting your mission to nearly end prematurely via way of “local bodyguard decks Garlean Prime Minister in the face” making the eleven o’clock news. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Emissary.” You finally get out as your lungs catch up with your racing heart. Where had he even come from? Was he lurking around some corner? You didn’t sense him at all…

“I apologize, I did mean to startle you so.” He chuckles lightly, ruby eyes gleaming with mirth.

“I merely meant to catch up with you. I knew you would immediately return to training with young Zenos, and made sure I woke up on time to speak with you.”

Relaxing a little, you find his eagerness to speak with you a little off putting, but otherwise you see no harm in it. It still baffles you that a whole ass dignitary would be scrambling for the chance to speak with you, especially since you can’t figure out the reason for his fascination with you. “What did you want to speak about?” You ask, taking a few steps out the doorway and into the hall. You watch as he gently allows the door to shut, ruby eyes never leaving your form.

He is dressed in a stark white suit, accented with golden embroidery on the lapels and cuffs. His hair is neatly trimmed as usual, though it seems longer than usual, in a neat braid down the back of his neck. “I will say, your reflexes had certainly intrigued me. I had always...sensed you had something special about you, Honey, and had taken it upon myself to find out.”

Unsure what to make of that, you shrug lightly and begin making your way toward your room so you can take a shower yourself. Elidibus isn’t through with you yet you realize, for he remains in step beside you. “Well, I’ve always been that way, since I was a kid. I was always faster than others, able to fight in ways nobody else could.”

“Is that so…” He murmurs, something in his voice making you slow your walk to face him more. Once he catches you looking at him, he fixes his face with a suspiciously kind smile. “What a rare gift, you must have. I will admit, when I had thrown that inkwell at you, I had not believed my own eyes. So this morning, I sought to watch your sparring match with the young master.” He pauses, raising a hand to tuck under his chin as if in thought. “Indeed, I saw for myself your ability. Zenos has always towered above his peers in combat, but to see someone not just stand toe to toe with him, but to dominate him so completely…”

Frowning, you stop walking, facing him full on. “What are you getting at?”

He stops a few steps ahead of you, staring at you with a sudden wisdom that makes him look twenty thousand years older than you rather than twenty. “Nothing...I just had the thought that perhaps some legends may become reality.”

A sense of apprehension fills you, one that is equal to the amount you felt when at the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Standing before the face of something greater, something far beyond your comprehension. “What...do you mean?”

The Emissary gives you an inquisitive look, as if he holds a million secrets and is willing to share none of them. “It is most intriguing that you have no idea who or what you are…” He murmurs, and you swear his eyes glow.

Standing before the Emissary, you feel as if he knows you better than you do yourself, and not in a way that makes you feel comfortable at all. You feel as if you stand before some sort of judgemental god, and he is readying himself to pass judgement on your poor mortal soul. “Elidibus...do you...know something about my past?”

The Emissary stands there silently, watching, waiting. Seemingly thinking over what he is to say, or perhaps inwardly laughing at how he will tell you nothing at all. “Have you really thought nothing more of your abilities? Thought you were just extremely talented?” He asks, voice as neutral as possible.

Frustrated, you rack your brain for an answer. “I don’t know. Growing up I thought...I just always thought I was really good. A strong fighter. You know how there are those like olympians? People who can lift weights with their pinky finger and stuff like that.”

He huffs out a short laugh at that, shaking his head, looking bemused as he takes a step closer toward you. “Oh, Honey. Really, you think that being able to snatch things from the air when you don’t have eyes in the back of your head isn't a little abnormal? Having the reaction time of coeurl is just a little quirk?”

“Rookie, you put her down so fast it was almost unnatural.”

“No one moves like that! It’s unnatural! You’re a freak!”

...Was there really something different about you?

Looking strangely content, Elidibus gives you an reassuring pat on the shoulder, jarring you from your thoughts. “Well, sorry to question you this early in the morning, my dear. I’m sure I’ve held you up long enough and we both know young Zenos has a temper on him. I’m sure we’ll find another time to chat.”

Still a little shell-shocked you nod weakly, and give a limp wristed wave goodbye. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for the talk. See you later, Elidibus.” You continue down the hallway, thinking on his words. Were you really that different? Were you just not an outlier?

When you turn back to try and ask Elidibus a question, you find the hallway completely empty.

The trip Gyr Abania is relatively problem free, the flight smooth and relaxing as you are once again treated to first class seating. You decide to have a juicy steak on your flight over, despite the flight taking only a few bells, knowing this was one of the few times Zenos couldn’t monitor your nutritional intake like a damn hawk.

Once you set foot on Gyr Abanian soil, you find it strange that it is still so warm. Kugane will no doubt have snow in the next month if not next few weeks, meanwhile in the arid land of Gyr Abania, you could easily wear some short shorts if you wanted to. The landscape is so different from Kugane, where even the more rural parts of Hingashi are rolling plains and lush, green grass, Ala Mhigo is dust and dirt, but no less beautiful. There is a magic to the barren land, and you feel no less fascinated by it all despite Zenos’ unamused sigh.

You ignore him, because even if your cover is a street rat that got swept into gang life, even as a cop you could only dream about saving up enough money to leave the country. Hingashi had the misfortune of essentially being an island unto itself, surrounded by the Ruby Sea and the plains of Othard where natives of the Azim Steppe kept to the ways of their ancestors. Travel outside the country was a true luxury, and living in Kugane made rent sky high, and your savings very little.

“I honestly don’t see the appeal.” Zenos feels the need to comment, expression bored as ever. The taxi rolls through the grand city, many of the buildings hailing to Gyr Abanian architecture, and you snap as many pictures as you can.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” You snark, flashing him an angry look. “I’m not going to listen to a rich kid who’s probably seen it all already. So shut up.”

“Shut up? I think not. Unless, you have something between your thighs that will keep me quiet…” he trails off, staring out the window as you whip around to face him, your cheeks on fire.

“Zenos yae Galvus!” You hiss under your breath, sneaking a quick look at your driver who seems otherwise unaware of the words that just passed from his lips.

Zenos shrugs, smug look already in place as he fixes you with a molten look. “He doesn’t understand a word we are saying. However, if you require me to translate, my Gyr Abanian is rusty, but I’m sure I could--”

Your hand is over his mouth before he can finish the sentence. Naturally, like a kid, his tongue licks a clean line on the palm of your hand and it takes all your willpower to not pull back on reflex.

Since that night at the office, things had become incredibly pleasant between the two of you, as if something had been unlocked and you had had the key all along. The key being that Zenos responded to touch, and as a result, you used it more. When you were angry, you had no problems throwing him over your shoulder. Now it was more tender gestures such as a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention, or a playful shove when he said some ridiculous innuendo. It made being around him feel the same, yet brand new all at once, but you knew that largely due to the fact you had just stopped fighting it.

“It” being feelings you still were not ready to explore, but at the very least, you had dug this hole, so you might as well freshen it up a bit. Make a home out of it the best you can.

That didn’t mean you didn’t fight Zenos himself of course, but it made the days go by easier now that you weren’t stuck in that state of constant denial. The state of trying to hold yourself back from trying not to fraternize with the enemy and failing miserably.

Friends with Benefits Plus you had called it, because what else did you call sleeping with your boss who you would kill and be killed for? The boss who would kill for you without question?

Unfortunately, you get no time to explore the city of Ala Mhigo, at least not tonight. With a few carefully placed touches and some begging-not-begging, Zenos had acquiesced to staying an extra night to tour the city the next day after the gala, given the two of you didn’t stay up too late and party all night. Which, was unlikely to happen as Zenos hated these events anyway, and didn’t even want to go.

“Why send you then? I thought your father ate this shit up.” You ask as you ride in the limo with Zenos on the way to the event, senses on high alert due to this being a solo mission. Security is thankfully tight from what you saw, but you still remain focused on your job. Zenos had been taken away once, but you were determined to make sure that was the last time.

“I actually don’t know.” Zenos muses, as if he is just now realizing it. “Not that he filled me on every single detail of his schemes, that or I tuned them out because I didn’t care, but as of late he’s been…” his brows actually pinch together in thought. “He’s not told me anything as of late.”

“I take it that’s not a good thing…” You mumble as you hear the crowd of the red carpet getting closer even from the inside of the limo.

Zenos doesn’t answer, looking incredibly displeased and too deep in his thoughts. Deciding to leave him to it, you place a steady hand on his back as the two of you enter the limelight, pulling out your shades as the first camera flashes reach your eyes. Zenos becomes the picture of a celebrity in seconds, face schooled into an expression of cool indifference as paparazzi clamor him with questions. As his bodyguard you become his shadow, hanging just behind him as he answers questions, greets other celebrities, and makes his way down the red carpet to go inside.

Reaching the front doors the facade stays in place, the picture of the perfect son of Varis zos Galvus. As you tail behind Zenos, you spot Estinien and Cid across the way, the latter giving you a big wave to ensure you saw him. Naturally the paparazzi's attention turns to you immediately, and you duck behind Zenos' hulkish frame in a sudden bout of shyness. You don't have to look at Zenos to know he's rolling his eyes, continuing forward as more reporters attempt to swarm him.

Part of wishes you could leave Zenos long enough to go and speak with Estinien, to try and clear the air between you, but you can’t leave Zenos’ side, not when you are the only one here to protect him and confronting Estinien would mean confronting your own feelings about Zenos as well.

By the Twelve, when did you become such a coward?

“Something on your mind?” You hear Zenos ask, having zoned out on whatever conversation he was having with another businessman. That isn’t to say you’re unaware of your surroundings, but you have been taking the time to gaze at the various art pieces for sale, studying them with your peasant like tastes. “You have been concerningly quiet this evening.” He notes, flashing a winning smile at whatever celebrity waves at him as they pass by.

“No…” You murmur, suddenly quiet and shy, not wanting to tell him just what was on your mind. Things had gone back to normal, you would dare say even improved from the norm, but you still weren’t at a place where you would willingly vent to him about your problems. That was Ardbert’s job.

“Do not lie to me.” Looking up, while Zenos’ voice was surprisingly gentle, his expression spoke of retribution if you dared to disobey him. “I hate lies. Are you unwell? Do we need to retire early?” He questions, reaching a hand for your forehead, skin to skin. Your face heats immediately, stunned he would ask such questions.

“When did you start giving a damn about how I feel?” You ask, trying to push things back into more familiar territory.

Looking down at you, he arches a single brow. “Does that matter?” He tuts, smoothing a stray hair of yours out of place. That he feels so comfortable and at ease touching you so intimately in public like this while you’re overthinking every single interaction with him makes you wonder what goes on in his head. “You belong to me and I take care of things that are mine.”

Pushing his hand away (whereas months ago you would have slapped it), you try to not feel pleased by his words. “How many times do I have to tell you people are not possessions?” You grumble, knowing your face is still warm from embarrassment. “Don’t you care about paparazzi? What if the tabloids catch you doting on me?” Or worse your father…

“I care little for whatever tabloids have had to say and that is not about to change.” He lets his arm fall back to his side, giving you a sly smile. “And perhaps, I want to make sure a certain person sees just who you belong to…”

Looking up you follow his gaze to where you can spy a trace of silver hair retreating through the crowd.

“You asshole!” You snap, smacking Zenos hard in the chest, wishing you could deck him in the face but sadly you’re in the middle of a party. “How could you do something so cruel?!”

He scoffs, expression turning into one of irritation. “Cruel? You would most certainly know of cruelty, Honey.” He breathes, leaning into your space as if there is not an entire party around you. “You have been the sole object of my desire for months. Whereas you have gone between myself and another man, sleeping with him every weekend.” Your eyes brim with tears as he stands back to full height, giving you that condescending look that is oh so familiar. “Now, who is the cruel one?”

Your lip trembles as your heart breaks, hands reaching up to clutch each other as you find a deeply hidden pain you never would’ve thought possible in his eyes. Unable to look at him any longer you back away from him until you push through the crowd to get away. You ignore the looks you get as you put as much distance between you and Zenos as possible. Reaching the exit, you feel like you can finally breathe as you stumble into the hallway, nearly keeling over with how fast your heart pounds in your chest.

Standing straight, you swipe a flute of champagne off the tray of a busboy as he passes by, downing it in one gulp as you let your legs carry you down the hall. The security guards stationed outside the doors give you a questioning look -- it is no secret who you are and who you work for -- but otherwise mind their business as you amble down the hall.

What a mess you were.

You hunch over into a slouch as you find a door that leads to an enclosed garden, the fresh air doing wonders for your nerves. The air is balmy and cool, and you are actually thankful for the warmer climate of Gyr Abania. It’s not necessarily pleasant enough to stand out and hold conversation in, but feels nice enough that you can stand and think about what you’ve done.

Now, who is the cruel one?

You were going to hell.

You were supposed to be the righteous one. The one who actually knew anything about feelings, who had any emotional intelligence, the one who knew how to not treat someone like a fucking slave.

And here Zenos goes, acting like he had the ability to treat you like a decent human being all along.

You wish you could laugh but you’re still technically in public, and decide to just silently weep into the night instead.

He had really wanted you for that long, huh...looking back, you wonder just how many of those touches were invitations. If he would let you flip him over because he loved to have your hands on him. If his insistence at instructing you was to save face, or was it to share something he enjoyed with you?

“Gods...I’m the clueless one.” You murmur to yourself, furiously wiping at your cheeks like a madman. While you were running off into Estinien’s arms, Zenos was pining for you the whole damn time, though he’d probably die before he admitted it. And where he was at least forthcoming about his feelings, you instead made things worse by sleeping with Estinien to run away from truths you did not want to face. And you ran back to sleep with Zenos when Estinien wanted more out of you than just sex.

“You really are an awful person.” You whisper to no one in particular, no one aside from yourself.

“Are you sure I’m not a bad kid?”

Blue eyes look down at you in surprise, a sweet face framed by blonde hair coming to scoop you into her arms. “Why would you ever think you’re a bad person?” She asks, wiping some stray tears from your face. Your cheeks and eyes are puffy from your latest tantrum, lip poked out in an adorable pout.

“Y-You said I was bad.” You stammer, rubbing at your eyes with small hands.

“What you did was bad, my dear.” The girl nuzzles your face, peppering your cheeks with kisses. “But sometimes, the bad things we do do not make us awful people. We just have to promise to do better.”

Wiping the last few tears from your eyes, you gaze to the stars in the sky, finding comfort in their presence. It is not often you think about your childhood, what little of it you can remember, but sometimes you remember what wisdom Minfilia tried to impart to you as a child while essentially being a child herself. A calming breath fills your lungs with cool night air and you feel like you’re finally ready to face the music. Turning around, you exit the garden enclosure and head back to the party.

Oh Minfilia...what would you do? You wonder, still stuck in your thoughts until the sounds of an explosion reach your ears.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

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SinoAlice: Guild Co-op Event - The Songful Banquet of Cherry Blossoms Translation

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Welcome to my whims. Hameln is fine.

問題デス。春とイエバ！？ Question, question! What does Spring entail?

モチロン！潮干狩りとキャンプですネ！ It’s got to be clamming and camping, of course!

確かに以前の春は潮干狩りデシタが…… アレは春イベントに水着ヲ出せト言われたプランナーが苦シ紛れに考えたモノ。 I know we did clamming last year for the Spring Event, but that was only because the Planner managed to come up with the idea of swimsuits after much turmoil...

言わば産みノ苦しみノ歴史なのデス。ソレを思い出サセルのは鬼畜の所業デスよ！ In other words, it’s the dark history of how it came to be; one of pain and suffering. Only a demon would make one shudder to remember such a time!

ソンな内情をブチマケラレましても…… Even if that’s how it truly is on the inside...

トニカクやり直しデス。春とイエバ！？ In any case, let’s start from the beginning again. When it’s Spring, it’s-!?

エ、エエ～ット……お花見……とか？ Um, errrr…Flower viewing, perhaps...?

ピンポーン！正解デス！！Bingo! That’s right!!

エッ、本当に！？ソンな正攻法でイイノ！？ Huh? What!? Something as straightforward as that does it!?

ええ。タマにはストレートも必要デス。 Of course. Simple is best, sometimes.

ワ～イ！お花見オ花見、楽しいナ！嬉しいナ！ Yay~! Flower viewing~! We’re going to be flower viewing! Oh, how fun! How exciting!

余興ノ人員も揃えマシタ。まずはグレーテル、さらにシンデレラ、そしてハーメルンです。 The entertainers have already been gathered. First, we’ll have Gretel, followed by Cinderella and Hameln.

スゴイ！最初から混乱しか予想デキナイ！ That’s amazing! I can foresee the chaos and confusion they’ll bring right from the get-go!

お花見ナンテおかしくなったモン勝ちデスよ。 The one who makes for the most chaotic Flower Viewing wins.

じゃア、この3人ニハ早速余興ヲ──ん？誰か来たヨウですが ……コレは……？ Should we get the 3 entertainers started now then? Hmm? There seems to be someone headed this way? ...This is…?

……ナルホド。まあイイでしょう。飛び込み参加モ大歓迎デス！ゲストを迎えテ楽しくヤリましょう！ I see...Well, that works too. Any last minute participants are welcomed to jump in anytime! Let’s all enjoy ourselves together with the guests!

ソウですネ。トテモ楽しくナリそうデス。エエ。とても……ネ。 Yes, this looks like it’ll be real fun. Absolutely so, indeed...

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一度だけ。友達に連れられて、アイドルのライブに行った事がある。 Once. Just once, did I ever attend an Idol’s concert at the insistence of my friend who dragged me along.

それはまさに、夢の世界だった。 It was a world akin to a dream; something I never thought possible.

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「みんなー！今日は　ハ　ナ　のライブに来てくれてアリガトウ！ハナにピッタリのこの場所で、最っ高の歌を聴いていってね！」 “Everyone~! Thank you all for coming to Hana’s live today! I’ll grace your ears with the best and greatest song out there in this perfect place of mine!”

薄紅の花びらが舞う、酒に似合いの風景に安如として乱入してきた『ライブラリ No.1の　ア　イ　ド　ル　』とやらば、クソが１００回つくようなくッッッッソド下手な歌を勝手に歌いだした。 The scenery was well-suited to a cup of sake, the air aflutter with the pink petals of the cherry blossoms. If only the place hadn’t been jacked by the “Library’s No.1 Idol ” Speaking of, she’s so bad at it that she's about a 100 times shittier than what’s already considered crap; singing shitty songs all on her own accord and wrangling ears everywhere.

「これは……聞くに堪えませんね……」 “This...I don’t think I can stand listening to this anymore…”

「おい、ナルシスト。あの女を消せ」 “Hey, Narcissist. Erase her.”

「私が手を下す必要ないかと」 “I doubt I’ll even have to do anything, really.”

そういって、ナルシストが指を示した失では、極度の音痴に我慢の限界を迎えたナイトメアたちが怒　り　を募うせていた。 That being said, he pointed his finger at something. A group of nightmares were already seething in anger at the hellish ear grating they were forced to suffer through; already reaching to the limits of their patience.

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さくら～↑舞う～↓ 景色～↑↑のぉ～↑ The fluttering~↑ dance~↓ of the~↑↑ Sakura in the background~↑

Ｎｏｏｏｏｏｏｏ↑↑ 歌ウノヤメロォ！ NOOOOOOO↑↑ Stop singing!

ロォ↓マンス～↑ 恋のぉ～神～～↑↑ Ro~↓ mance~↑ The god~ of love~~↑↑

耳ガ腐ルゥゥ！助ケテェェ！！ My ears are about to drop off! Someone, save me!!

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「あたしの歌で踊りだしたくなる気持ちは判るけど、暴れるのはダメだぞぅ✰」 “I understand that my singing makes one feel the urge to dance but rampaging? That’s a big no-no✰ ”

ナイトメアの蹴散うしたハナさんとやらば、その場で軽やかにターンをしてーー Kicking the Nightmare away, she did a light twirl on the spot.

「　ダ　ン　ス　ならこう踊らなきゃ！」 “You’ve got to dance like this if you’re going to do it!”

この世のものとは思えぬ醜い歌に合わせ、心を抉るような　前　衛　的　な踊りを始めました。 She started to dance Avant - garde , coupled with the horrid song that was out of this world; one so appalling that it almost felt like someone was gouging my very heart out.

「眩暈がしてきた……」 “I’m actually starting to get dizzy from seeing this…”

艶やかな褐色の肌を持つシンデレラさんの殺意の失わせるほどの醜悪な歌と踊り。 A horrible, ear-grating song and an equally unbeautiful dance. One that actually made the glossy brown-skinned Cinderella lose all the killing intent that she wielded.

これには、さすがの私も辟易です。 That being said, this also repulses me, of course.

しかし、不思議な事に、綺麗な足を持つグレーテルさんだけは魅　入　ら　れ　たように歌に聞き入っていたのです…… But the strangest thing was that Gretel, the one with beautiful legs, seemed utterly charmed and entranced by the song...

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席なんて、ステージからもの凄く遠いスタンドだったけど。 The seats were so far from the stage itself. Rather than seats, it was actually more like a stand.

そこから観る会場はサイリウムの光に包まれて、まるで花畑みたいだった。 Watching the stage surrounded by psyllium lights from afar, it bore a resemblance to a flower garden of sorts.

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ステージでアイドルが歌う。あたしの席から顔なんて見える訳ないんおに、それでも笑顔だとわかる。 The Idol sung atop the stage. I knew that they were smiling, even though I can’t possibly see them from my seat.

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「ねえ兄様。あの歌…… 懐かしくありませんか？昔、兄様と二人で過ごした夜の森で、冷たい月明りの下で聴いた……」 “Hey, brother? Isn’t this song nostalgic…? It’s the same song we heard at night, back in the forest where we lived together. Under the cold, icy moonlight…”

「森の奥から聞こえてきた、歌……」 “The same song that resonated deep within the forest itself…”

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ヤヤヤヤメヤメヤメヤメロメロンー！ SSSST- STO- STOP STOP STOP-!

オカシクナルルルルルルリルレロ！ I’M STARTING TO GO CRRAAAAZY!

わあ！斬新なコールアリガトー！ Wow! Thanks for new cheer!!

ハハハハナハナハナヒヒヒヒヒヒヒッ！ HAHAHAHANAHANAHA-- HIIE!!

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アイドルの歌と踊りに合わせて、会場が揺れる。アイドルはキラキラしていて、とても可愛くて。それを観るみんなも、とてもキラキラしていた。 The venue broke out in an uproar in response to the Idol’s song and dance. The idol was shining in the limelight and absolutely adorable. And the audience shone too, as they looked on.

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クソ下手音痴女　ハ　ナ　の歌と踊りは戦意を失わせた。怒りを抱く事すら勿体ないろいうか…… Listening and watching the shitty tone-deaf woman Hana singing and dance made me lose all the fight in me. Or, more like...It would be a waste to even feel rage at this...

そういうレベルにまで達しているのは、ある意味芸術と言ってもいいのかもしれない。遠のく意識と視界が、現実を拒否するように段々と霞んでいく。 It might even be called art, considering just how bad she was. My consciousness slowly faded as my vision grew hazier, as if rejecting reality itself.

「スモークいいわね！もっと焚いて！会場をハナ色に染めちゃってー！」

“The smoke’s looking good! Keep it coming! Fill the area with colour―!”

音痴女の声に呼応するように周囲の木々が揺れた。そこから黄　色　い　煙　が大量に吐き出される。 The surrounding trees shook, seemingly responding to the tone-deaf girl’s command. And then, a yellow smoke spewed forth.

「これは……　花　粉　……？」

“Is this… pollen …?”

横にいたナルシストがそう呟いたような、そうでないような……なんだ？頭が……

I feel as if the Narcissist beside me had muttered something like that...or not…? What’s this? My head...

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大量の花粉が！これはイケマセン！ A large amount of pollen! This won’t do!!

桜の花粉ッてコンナに飛ばないのデハ？ I thought the pollen from cherry blossoms wasn't this bad?

ライブラリの桜ですカラ。 Well, it’s the Library’s cherry blossoms.

その一言デ説明が済むの、最高デスネ！ Nice! The explanation’s done and settled in a single breath!

こんな事もアロウかと。ハイ！花粉ブロック！ 99.9％花粉を遮断！機能性も抜群デス！ Well, I did think this might happen. So...here! Pollen Block! It’s 99.9% effective!

呼吸も99.9％遮断！死ヘノ片道装備デス！ But that prevents breathing itself by 99.9%! It’s a one way ticket to death itself!

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ライブが終わったあと、会場から出っていくみんなは、とにかく笑顔だった。あたしも、もちろんその一人。 Everyone left the venue with a smile on their face once the Live ended. I, of course, included.

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その少女は、歌を歌った。皆を笑顔にしたいのだと、そう笑った。それがあまりに純粋で、あまりに無邪気で。だから私は、彼女に新しい歌を教えた。 The girl sang, and sang she did. She laughed about wanting to make everyone smile. All so innocent, all so pure. Thus, I taught her a new song.

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アイドルって凄いなって思った。たった一人で数万人を笑顔にできる、そんなアイドルに、あたしは憧れた。 I thought that Idols were amazing. Just one person, able to bring smiles to countless others. I admired Idols; they were my admiration.

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その少女の声には力があった。我らに活動を促す力が。そうーー我らの時代を、もう一度取り戻す力が。 That girl’s voice held power. The power to urge us to motion; to act. That’s right―— The power to reclaim our reign once more.

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あたしは小さい頃から病気がちで。人退院の度に、周りに迷惑をかけていた。誰かを笑顔にする事より、誰かを悲しい顔にする事の方が多かった。 I was always sickly ever since I was little. I only inconvenience those around me, whenever I get admitted to the hospital. Rather than making people happy, I made people sad, more often than not.

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「スモーク焚きすぎちゃって道が見えないわ。誰か道案内してくれないかしら。これからオーデイションがあるのよね」 “There’s too much smoke; I can’t see the way. Could I perhaps, get someone to lead the way? I’ve got an audition on the way.”

ハナさんは、こちらをじっとみて言いました。つまり、私達に案内を要求しているのでしょう。その気配を察したシンデレラさんは、冷たい声で拒絶しました。 Hana spoke, keeping eye contact with me the entire time. In other words, she’s probably asking us for help. Cinderella coldly refused after having grasped the situation.

「金はあるんの？まあ払われても断るけど」 “Is there money in this? Well, not that I’d take it either even if you offered.”

「そんなぁ……ひどいですぅ……！」 “No way...how mean…!”

ハナさんの泣き声に呼応して、一層花粉がと飛散します。これは宜しくありません。 More pollen was scattered upon her cries. This isn’t appreciated at all.

「少しくとも、あなたの姿は美しい。私が　案　内　いたしましょう」 “You’re a beautiful one, at least. Allow me to lead the way.”

「ありがとう！貴方、お名前は？」 “Thanks! What’s your name?”

「ハーメルン、とお呼び下さい」 “Call me Hameln.”

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ハーメルン……メルちゃんね！よろしく！ Hameln…? Mel, then! I’ll be in your care!

メル……？ Mel…?

ところでぇ……メルちゃんは──ハナと手を繋いではくれないの？ By the way...Won’t you join hands with me, Mel?

？こうしてあなたの手を取っていますが── ? But aren’t I already holding onto your ha...nd…?

──テヘッ。 ──Tee-hee.

花粉のせいで見間違えましたね。失礼。醜い。 I’ve blundered due to the pollen in the air. Pardon me, that was unsightly.

ギャアッ！勘違イシタノハソッチナノニー！ Gyaah! You’re the one at fault though!

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こんなあたしでも。アイドルになれば誰かを笑顔にできるのかな。知らない人にも、幸せを感じてもらう事ができるのかな。 I wonder if I can bring a smile to someone else’s face too, if someone like me can become an Idol. I wonder if I can make people that I don’t know feel happy too?

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会場いっぱいに咲くサイリウムの光の花に包まれて、可愛いドレスを着たわたしがステージで歌を歌うーーそんな未来を夢見ながら桜の木に向かっ歌っていたある日、頭の中に素敵な歌が流れてきた。 The venue was blooming with Psyllium Flowers of light. Dressed in a cute dress, I sang; and sang I did―— I continued looking on, holding onto that dream for the future. One day, while I was singing to the Cherry Blossom Tree, a beautiful song sounded in my mind

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入院した病室の窓から桜が見える。その桜の木に向かって、あたしは歌を歌った。桜が散る頃には退院して、オーデイションを受けに行くんだ。 I can see the Cherry Blossoms from the window of my Hospital Room. I sang to the Cherry Blossom Tree and sang I did. When the Cherry Blossoms scatter and I get discharged from here, I’ll go for an Audition.

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少女は夢を抱いていた。しかし、少女は病も抱えていた。やがて少女に声は枯れ果てて、その儚き夢も叶うことなく――

だから、私はその身に命を蕾を宿した。 The girl held onto a dream. However, sickness also had a clutch on her. Eventually, her voice faltered and faded, that fleeting dream of her’s never coming to pass.

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――桜が咲いて、散って。入院してから何回目かの満開を迎える。あたし、少しは歌が上手くなったかな？早くオーデイションを受けたいな。 ――The Cherry Blossoms bloomed and scattered. I’ve seen many a cycle of it coming into full bloom ever since I was admitted. Have I gotten a little better at singing? I want to hurry and go for an Audition.

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これ以上、あのクソ下手音痴女のせいで花粉を巻き散うされちゃ堪らない。仕方なく、私達は手音痴女を案内していた。しかし―― I can’t stand being showered by more Pollen because of the shitty tone-deaf girl. I suppose we don’t have a choice but to show her the way. But――

（あのブラコン、やけに大人しいな） (That Bro-con is being unsettlingly quiet.)

ハーメルンと手を繋いでご機嫌な音痴女の後るに歩くグレーテルが、普段よりも妙に静かで気にかかる。いつもなら「兄様、兄様」と一人でぶつくさ言っているはずなのに。 His unusual silence caught my attention, as he walked along behind Hameln, who had joined hands with the joyous looking tone-deaf girl. Usually, he’d be muttering “Brother, brother” all by his lonesome.

「……あ」 “…Oh.”

そのグルーテルが、小さな声を上げた。 That very Gretel made a small sound.

「兄様に……　花　が咲きました……」 “ Flowers are blooming…on Brother..”

籠の中の『兄様』からは、全く似合わないファンシーな花が咲いていた。 Fancy unfitting flowers were blooming in the cage where “Brother” was held.

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何やら呻き声も聞こえますね。 I seem to hear something akin to moaning.

そんな事どうでもいい！兄様、兄様！ There’s absolutely no way that’s the case! Brother, brother!

でも意外と似合ってんじゃない？その花。 But don’t you think that suits him surprisingly well? That flower, I mean.

似合って……ああ……兄様、可愛いです…… It suits him…? …Ahh…Brother, you’re so cute…

ねぇ、ドラゴンがいるんですけどぉー。 Hey, there’s a dragon here though―

グウ……ズズッ……鼻ガ詰マッテ…… Ugh…sniff, sniffle…My nose’s all stuffed up…

呻き声はコレでしたか。何とも美しくない…… So this was the cause of all the moaning. It’s not the slightest bit beautiful at all…

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――桜が咲いて、散って。あと何回、この景色を見られるだろう。歌おうにも声が出ない。乾燥した唇が裂けて、血が滲んだ。 ――The Cherry Blossoms bloomed and scattered. I wonder how many more times I must witness this scene? No sound comes out even if I sing. My dry, chapped lips crack as blood oozes out.

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少女の顔は美しい。伸びた四肢も美しい。そして少女から漂う匂い。これは――ああ、今まで花粉で気付きませんでしたね…… The girl had beautiful features. Her limbs were all so beautiful as well. Then came the smell that came along with her. This is―― Ahh, I never noticed due to all the Pollen flying about up till now…

「この腐臭は、美しくない」 “This smell of rot is not beautiful in the least.”

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――桜が咲いて、散って。今年も、何とか見届けられた。来年まで頑張ろうね、と気気遣う看護師の声がする。 ――The Cherry Blossoms bloomed and scattered. I somehow managed to see the petals off again this year. I hear the kind, caring nurse telling me to do my best again next year.

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いつの間にか桜の木の下に来ていました。そこには、人の形をした植物が、綺麗な花を咲かせていくつも立っています。 Before I knew it, I was already standing below the Cherry Blossom Tree. There were many human-shaped plants, all with stunning flowers blooming on them.

「兄様。兄様と同じ花ですよ」 “Brother. It’s the same flower as the one blooming on you, Brother.”

花が咲いた兄様と、花の咲かない私。それがなんだか、とても悲しい。 Brother, who had flowers blooming on him, and me, who did not. That was utterly saddening, in a sense.

「それならお　揃　い　になってみる？」 “Then how about you try becoming a pair ?”

どこからか、歌う声が聞こえてきます。二人で過ごした、森の奥でも聞いた声。あの時、兄様は近づくなと言ったけど。 I could hear singing coming from somewhere. A voice that I heard even back in the depths of that forest; back during the time I spent together with Brother. I recall telling whoever that had been to stay away from Brother, back then.

「じゃあ、願いを叶えてあげるね」 “Then, let me grant your wish!”

兄様、私はあなたと一緒がいいのです。 Brother, I want to be the same as you.

「ブラコン！」 “Bro-con!””

誰かが叫んでいるけど、邪魔しないで。私は今、とても　幸　せ　なのだから―― Someone was yelling. Don’t get in the way; For I’m extremely happy right now――

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あいつ、花に寄生されたのか！？ That guy; Is he being parasitized by those flowers!?

花を咲かすグレーテルさんも、また美しい。 Gretel’s beautiful even with flowers blooming on their being.

アンタも、頭に花を咲かせてもらえば？ How about we make one grow on your head too?

それも良いですね。きっと美しいでしょう。 That might not be too bad of an idea. It’ll be a dazzling sight to behold, I’m sure.

嫌味が通じないのか。このナルシスト…… Can’t you tell sarcasm when it’s in front of your face, you narcissist...!?

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――冬なのに、桜が咲いている。ああ、枝に積もった雪がそう見えるんだ。それでもいい。最期に見られて良かった…… ――The Cherry Blossoms bloomed and scattered. Ahh, so that’s how the branches look like with snow piled on them. This is fine. I’m glad that I managed to see it in the end…

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突然現れた予定外の乱入者。歌に合わせて撒き散らされる大量の花粉。しかも思考を惑わすオマケ付き……とくれば、異変の　原　因　は明らかだ。 An intruder had appeared out of the blue; this was not planned. The large amount of Pollen being scattered around along with the song. Along with the added effect of addling your mind… In conclusion, the root cause of this was startlingly apparent.

「どう考えてもアンタだろ？」 “No matter how you think about it, you’re the one behind all this, aren’t you?”

武器を突きつけつろ、ハナは震えた。 Hana trembled as Cinderella pointed her weapon at her.

「ち、違うもん！メルちゃん、助けて！」 “N-No, you’re mistaken! Help me, Mel!”

「残念ながら、あなたからは腐臭がする。大変醜い臭いです。私に助けられる価値は、地を這う虫ほどもありません」 “Unfortunately, there’s a rotting smell coming from you. It’s a horribly ugly scent. And I’m not obligated to help anyone or anything who’s worth is equivalent to a worm, crawling on the ground.”

「……っ」 “…Ngh.”

ハーメルンの言葉に息を呑むと、音痴女は派手に笑い出し―― The tone-deaf girl sucked in a deep breath at Hameln’s words before breaking out into laughter――

「お前ら全員、花人形にしてやる！」 “I’m gonna turn all of you into Flower Dolls!”

義姉と同じくらい、

醜　く　顔を歪めた Her face distorted uglily ; it was almost as bad as Gishin’s own.

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みんな、あたしの歌を聴かなかった！だから花人形にしてやったのよ！！どう？これなら黙って歌を聴くでしょう！？ No one was listening to my song! That’s why I turned them all into Flower Dolls!! How’s that for a change? Now you’ll shut up and listen to my singing, right!?

人形にしなけりゃ聴いてもらえない歌なんて、アンタ才能ないんだよ。それだけの話だろ？ If no one’ll listen to you unless you turn them into a Doll, doesn’t that just mean that you don’t have the talent for it? That’s all there is to it, no?

なのにアイドルを名乗るとは……ああ醜い。 And still, you dare call yourself an Idol…Ahh, how ugly.

違う……あたしは、アイドルなのおぉ！ No…I’m…I AM an Idol!

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――あたしは、アイドルになりたかった。満員の会場で、光の花に囲まれて、楽しそうに歌うアイドル…… だって…… みんあの　笑　顔　が、見たかったから。病気がちのあたしの周りには、悲しい顔しかなかったから―― ――I wanted to be an Idol. An Idol, singing happily in a full-house venue, with flowers of light blooming all around… Because… I wanted to see the smiles on everyone’s faces. Because there was nothing but sad faces around me, due to my sickly nature――

「生まれ変わったら、今度こそ……」 “Next time, if I’m reborn…”

そう呟いて、少女は光の中に消　え　去　っ　た　。 The girl murmured her last as she faded away from the light.

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……結局、この少女も　駄　目　だった。確か、これで３４人目だ。それにしても、笑顔を見たいと言いながら、自分が見られる事が目的になるとは、まさに本末転倒…… …That girl was a no - good either, in the end. I’m certain this makes it the 34th person now. Even so, to think that her goal would be for people to notice her despite how she’s always crowing about how she wanted to see everyone’s smiles… She’s certainly got her priorities wrong.

しかし、これだからこそ人間は面白い。では、私は次の　苗　床　を探すとしよう。 But this is precisely what makes humans all so interesting. Well then, I suppose I’ll have to find another nursery .

手始めに、少女を殺したあの３人を―― How about those 3 who killed the girl, for starters――

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桜さん。今まであたしの歌を聴いてくれて、ありがとう。アイドルになる夢は叶わなかったけど、あなたはあたしの、たった一人の観客でした。 Dear Cherry Blossom, thank you for listening to my singing. I never fulfilled my dream of becoming an Idol, but you’re my one and only audience I ever had.

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黒幕はアノ桜の木デシタ。 The mastermind was that Cherry Blossom Tree.

木にヨル支配とは、どこかで聞いたヨウナ。 A tree that rules everything? I feel like I’ve heard about this somewhere…

ソンな物語もドコかにアッタような？ I feel like a story like that exists somewhere out there.

トコロデ、あの桜ハどうシマス？ By the way, what are we going to do with that Cherry Blossom?

アア、ソレならすでに対処済みデス。大事ナ兄様に花ヲ咲かせた木ニ腹を立てタグレーテルが根本カラ桜ヲぶち倒しマシテ。 Ohh, that’s already been dealt with. Gretel was mad that the tree had made flowers bloom on his beloved Brother and chopped it up, roots and all.

エッ……黒幕を……？ Eh…He did that to the Mastermind…?

ソノ倒れた桜を眺めナガラ酒を飲ンでいたシンデレラが、「確か桜の木は、スモーク用のチップとして売れたな？」と思いツキ、ハーメルンに命令シテ。 And then Cinderella was looking upon the fallen Cherry Blossom whilst sipping on a cup of Sake pipped up, saying “Come to think of it, Cherry Blossom Wood can be sold as Smoking Chips, right?” And thus, she ordered Hameln to procure it.

エエ……黒幕がスモーク用……？ Ehh…Using the Mastermind as smoking material…?

ハーメルンは「艶やかな肌の主の言う事なら」と、ソレは美しく桜の木をカットして。結果、ライブラリ特製燻製用桜チップとしテ見事に高値で売れマシター！ハイこれ売上報告書。凄いデスヨ。 “If that’s what the master of glossy skin wishes.” Said Hameln, and he beautifully cut up the Cherry Blossom Tree. As a result, the Library’s Special Cherry Blossom Smoked Chips are being sold for an astoundingly high price!! Here’s the Sales Report. Amazing, isn’t it!

エエエ……本当ダ。黒幕メッチャ売レてる。 Ehhh…You’re right. The Mastermind’s selling really well.

この売上デ燻製肉でも食べニ行きマセンカ？ How about we use the Sales earnings to go eat some smoked meat?

行クー！人ノお金で食べるオ肉大好き！ Count me in―! I love eating meat when someone else’s paying!

燻製に使うチップはもちろん桜デ…… The wood chips we’re going to use for the smoking will be Cherry Blossom, of course.

∘◦ -————❈ ❀ 𝔉𝔦𝔫. ❀ ❈————- ◦∘

#Sinoalice #シノアリス #Translations #Hameln #Gretel #Cinderella #The Songful Banquet of Cherry Blossoms #Kitamura Eri #Maeno Tomoaki #Maaya Uchida #前野智昭 #喜多村英梨 #内田真礼 #桜花ノ歌宴

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