#but at the same time………… the family weaving language. i wonder if that could be counted as part of linguistics. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

torukmaktoskxawng · 11 months

Text

tsamsiyu ta’em - a new leaf part two

Masterlist - part five

Summary: Desertion must run in the family.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 9k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Thank you so much for 300 followers! 🎉

Right from the start of the day, Jake knew something or someone was bothering his sister. She was quiet, she kept to herself, and she went stiff when anyone came near her. It was as though they were right back at the start when he first brought Kayla to High Camp. What was worse is that the kids had noticed and asked their father what was wrong with Auntie, and Jake couldn't afford to tell them that he didn't have all the answers and he had been wondering the same thing. A small part of him was scared that something had happened to her back at Bridgehead or maybe she was changing her mind about staying. Whatever was wrong, Toruk Makto needed to fix it, one way or another.

She had been particularly moody to him all day, but unfortunately, she had to be in close proximity to her brother when they were both given the task of tending to the ikran and their harnesses. She decided to be silent, cold, and distant as they worked. Jake decided not to push his luck and worked in silence alongside her, just trying to be a comforting presence despite not knowing what was wrong. He did, however, notice other presences around them, and they were paying particularly close attention to his sister.

It was a small group of young Na'vi warriors, likely around Kayla's age if not a little younger. They stood off to the side, openly staring at Kayla and whispering to each other. Jake couldn't tell if they were curious or making fools of themselves by mocking her, but Kayla didn't appear to even notice them at first. Then, some avatar scientists joined the group, also publicly gawking at Kayla when their fellow Na'vi friends whispered to them, too. They laughed quietly among themselves and one unfortunate bastard was cursed with a snorty laugh that drew Kayla's attention to the group, sharp eyes locking onto them before she could even blink. The whole group quickly turned away, all either embarrassed or ashamed.

Jake took this opportunity to laugh and lighten the mood, "You've got a growing group of admirers, it would seem."

Kayla paused, still watching the group of men and women now clearly avoiding her gaze before actively ignoring them, bringing her eyes back down to her hands as she worked on weaving together a spare banshee harness. Jake huffed with amusement, "What? Not your type?"

"Not my priority," she muttered, "Besides, I'm pretty sure they're not staring at me because they wanna get some."

"Does that mean you have someone?"

Her eyes shoot up to him like a bullet, narrowed and glaring into his soul as she spits out, "Would I have come to Pandora alone if I did? I'm not the one who abandons people when they need me."

The silence is thick and palpable, able to cut through with a knife. Both Sullys stare at one another, unblinking. One stared in shock while the other glared in rage, but it's not hard to tell which is which.

Jake swallowed back the emotions when his throat suddenly dried, ears lowering in shame, "I'm sorry."

"After all, 'Sullys stick together', right?" She mocked, and one look at her and Jake could tell why she was suddenly pissed off at him. The shame quickly eats him up and threatens to spit him out as her voice wavered, "Usually, I'd find it sweet that you taught your kids some of our family's old traditions... but when that tradition ended up becoming a lie--"

"I was going through it," he tried making up excuses as a desperate attempt of calming her, "I wasn't thinking."

"You were going through it?" She huffs out a laugh of disbelief, the smile that briefly graced her lips was vile and hysterical, "I get that you were twins, Jake. But Tom was my brother, too."

Jake lowered his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. It seems as though Kayla can't just settle on one emotion, all her thoughts that have been stewing for some time beginning to boil over like a volcano. Her voice shook, either in rage or distress, Jake didn't want to look up and find out. "And for a while there, I thought I lost both of you."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. Doesn't excuse the fact that you left me all alone, found yourself a wife, and had a few kids all the while letting your sister believe you were dead!" She snapped, growing angrier by the minute when tears started to brew in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to punch him and scream but she was frustrated because she had clearly missed that opportunity when they first reunited, "I missed out on so much of your life, Jake. I missed out on their lives, and you didn't care."

"I did care. I still care--"

"You didn't. If I recall, the last thing you ever said to me was 'have a good life, kid' in that passive-aggressive tone of yours."

His eyes flick up to hers, "And your last words to me were even less than friendly."

"Sue me." Kayla snarled back, quick as lightning, "My brother abandoned me on a dying planet, all alone, and didn't bother to make sure I was taken care of."

The wording felt like heavy lead beginning to build in Jake's gut, tilting his head curiously at her, "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just did exactly what you told me to do. I grew up." His ears pin to his skull as his mind prompted him to a distant memory of the last time he ever spoke to Kayla. The shame and humiliation were evident in his eyes when she glared back, "To make ends meet I became a marine. You didn't give me much of a choice."

His hand reaches out before his brain could order it to do so, "Kayla--"

She hissed ferociously for her first attempt, the sound coming low from her chest and throat, baring her sharps fangs at her brother, "Don't fucking touch me."

Jake pulls his arms back, afraid she'd bite, and raised them in surrender so she had a clear view of both of them. Defeated, Jake keeps himself back and willingly exposes himself to her verbal lashings, "Alright, let's hear it. I wasn't sure how long it would take us to talk about it. But there's no easy way around it. So come on. Let's talk."

Her eyes were still pooling, threatening to spill, as she shook her head when words failed, "Maybe we shouldn't."

"No, we should. I knew this was coming. Go ahead."

She took a moment to try and find the right words, but there weren't any that she hadn't already said. Instead, Kayla confessed what she had been feeling all this time after having bottled it up for so long, "Initially I was glad that you're still alive. Now that the initial shock and relief have worn off-- fuck you, Jake."

She picked up her work and turned a full one-eighty, walking away and keeping her head low so no one would think she was making a scene. She wasn't able to get far before Jake comes after her, being sure not to touch her, and instead making her stop in her tracks when he rushed around to cut off her escape, "Look, Kayla, wait-- hate me all you want. I know I deserve it. But don't take it out on anyone else but me."

The words were enough to confuse Kayla as her rushing thoughts pause, peering up at Jake in puzzlement, "What makes you think I would do that?"

"I can't afford not to," his whole posture displayed the stern form of an olo'eyktan, shoulders stiff with the weight of hundreds of lives relying on him, "Kayla, you and I, right now, are on opposite sides of a war. Alright?"

The firm reminder breaks the spell and Kayla quickly looks away, deciding to focus on a Na'vi child in the distance, running away from their mother as they laughed instead. Jake sidesteps until he's in her field of view again and she is forced to make eye contact. His expression stays serious, like a father talking down to their child, "Whatever punishment you think I deserve for what I did, I'll take it gladly. But don't do anything to punish anyone else, like telling Ardmore where we are. Don't feed my family to the wolves for my mistakes."

It hurt to think that after everything Kayla has seen in these last few months, Jake would believe she could possibly do something so monstrous. Her eyes widen at him, shattered as she voiced this in such a soft tone, "Do you honestly think I could do something like that?"

He doesn't relent even though he wants to. He wants to believe his sister loved his kids and would never throw them under the bus for crimes he committed, but he's seen too much. He knows what people like Ardmore are capable of, and has seen firsthand what they can do to get what they want. "It's like you said. Twenty years is a long time but it's enough for someone to change. And the side that you're fighting for, the Sky People... They have done nothing but hurt the Na'vi. They've killed animals, entire ecosystems, and even the People themselves. I watched them destroy Neytiri's home and there were many casualties. Men, women, and children. All for what? For the ore that lay underneath. I thought we had driven them away but now they're back, and they're more ruthless than before. That field outside Bridgehead. The Kill Zone? That used to be a forest. A beautiful, powerful, living forest. And now it's gone. Burnt down to the dry desert it now is."

Kayla's eyes dart away, her expression crumbling into a whole range of emotions that she tried to contain, conflict and sadness being only a couple of them. Jake doesn't relent, "Come on, Kayla, you know I'm right. You know what the Sky People are doing is wrong."

It was a weak attempt at defending herself and her species, but Kayla's sisterly instinct to argue with her brother was a lot stronger than common sense, "... They're my people. They're your people."

"No." He shut her down firmly, harshly, "I chose my people. I chose people who love life. 'People who love the ground they walk on and respect the animals they hunt. They believe that everything must return to the dirt so life can start all over again. When have you ever seen a human give back?" When he's met with silence, he takes a different approach, "You're a soldier, Kayla. Soldiers don't have the freedom to make their own choices. They're not allowed to feel or have their own opinions. I would know because I was a soldier, too. I was just like you. But now I'm a warrior."

She frowns, staring up through her eyebrows with doubt evident through her yellow orbs, "There's a difference?"

"Yes. Warriors are loyal and brave. They have honor. They're not mindless animals who only do what they're told regardless of whether or not what they're doing is wrong. Only a soldier does that. I refuse to be a soldier ever again."

The arguing side of her finally gives in, exhausted from spewing all her emotions out all at once in the heat of the moment. She just wants to sleep now, and at this point, she'll do whatever it takes to get back to her nivi, "What do you want from me?"

The opportunity presents itself and Jake finally admits the motivation behind bringing her here in the first place, "I'm asking you to stop being a soldier and start being a warrior. Join us. Join us and learn to love life again as you did before. Stay here. Be a part of our family. Fight for the survival of our family." Kayla looked as though she had expected him to say this, but still appeared unsure, scared of the danger of staying. Jake took a brave step forward and gently placed his hands on either of her shoulders, "My kids love you and they need you. Do you love them?"

She thought of Neteyam, so kind and brave and nurturing. Kiri, so full of hope and life and is just trying to know herself. Lo'ak, desperate for approval and to make himself seen, yet so reckless and funny. Sweet Little Tuk, so full of love for everyone around her and all-inclusive when showing her creativity and happiness. Kayla even thought about Spider, who smiles and laughs with her and tries to make her feel welcome, despite being an odd teenager who has yet to figure out how adult life works. Going beyond the kids, Kayla thought about Neytiri and Norm, people who have included her in everything and accepted her despite their differences, and who have grown to be her friends and family. Kayla's eyes briefly flick back to Jake and nodded, "Yes."

He smiled, "And the forest? The colors? The people?"

"Yes."

"All of that will go away if the Sky People continue to stay here. They'll dig up and burn every tree all the way down to the roots. They'll be an infestation to this world that you've grown to love. Please, Kayla. Stay here."

Determination and desperation intertwine on his face, and Kayla hated how she had to be the one to break such confidence in him. She partially wondered when did their roles reverse, where she had given up but he had hope. Maybe it had been when he first came to Pandora and saw his life through other people's eyes did he decide to change, and even though Kayla was proud of her brother for becoming a better man, she still felt the hurt of abandonment. Despite wishing she could hurt him as he hurt her, she didn't want it to be like this, "I can't, Jake."

His face had started to fall before she could quickly add, "Not when my real consciousness is in Bridgehead. As long as my body's there, I'll always have to go back."

He breathed a small sigh of relief through his nose, calm now that he knew she wanted to stay but just couldn't find the courage to do so, "Then wake up and run away."

"... How?"

"I have a plan."

~~~~~~~~~

The nights were a little cold high up in the cave systems of the floating mountains, but Kayla was ignoring the cold in exchange for looking into a cracked mirror hung up off to the side of the Longhouse, meant to be used for when the avatars needed to do their nightly routines. Kayla purposely waited until she was the last one to use the mirror for the night, the other avatars already lying in their hammocks, waiting for lights out to be called.

Her reflection was something she had only just begun to get used to. Big, yellow eyes, and cerulean skin with natural, flowing blue stripes perfectly shaping the angles of her face. Kayla pressed a finger to one of the many star-glittered freckles on her cheek that she had recently learned the Na'vi call tanhì. She followed the design for a while, losing count after twenty and then meeting her cat-like eyes in her reflection.

It was a face she was going to have to get used to if she was really going to go through with this. She once saw the avatar as a separate person entirely, but now she understood that they are one in the same both mind and soul. No matter what form she took, either blue or peach, she was still Kayla, and she had to remind herself of that every day in the mirror, no matter what reflection was looking at her. Although she was beginning to wonder just how much time she’ll be spending in her human body after tonight.

A plan had been set and now all she had to do was go to sleep and wake up in Bridgehead. Easier said than done, her nerves acting as a stimulant to keep her awake. Already, she was hearing snores coming from the biolab trailer. She heard quiet chatter in the distance, but other than that, the whole camp was asleep, marking just how late her rushing thoughts kept her up. Taking one last look at her avatar, she finally pulls away from the mirror and gets comfortable in her hammock, internally asking Eywa to wish her luck before closing her eyes.

She's awoken by the same blinding white lights and lab coats, asking a hundred questions a minute while routinely going through the motions of giving her nutrition and simultaneously taking blood samples through various needles and tubes in the crooks of her arms. Kayla blankly stared at her pale arms, a little thinner than normal. She hadn't had time to take care of her body in between links and decided that this should be one of the many reasons she needs to leave. Her stomach growled at the idea of freshly cooked teylu waiting for her back at High Camp and was extremely disappointed when a scientist handed her a granola bar instead. Finally, after they had bandaged her fresh wounds and were satisfied with her answers, Kayla stood from the ledge of the link bay and steadied herself,

"I need to talk to General Ardmore."

The general was summoned and brought to the biolab by the time Kayla was offered water and a full meal. The corporal even had time to pull her hair up into a more respectable bun before she would stand in attention for the general. Frances Ardmore walked in and Kayla salutes stiffly, keeping her eyes lowered until she had been given permission to speak.

"Report."

Kayla looked up with a stern look in her eye and a monotone voice, lying through her teeth gracefully, "There's a crash site near the location of what used to be the Na'vi's Hometree. A gunship with some bodies inside. It's not my brother, I know, but with your permission, General, I'd like to go out there and extract them."

"With your avatar?"

"Just myself, ma'am. I had to leave my avatar behind at the crash site." The general's eyes narrow and so Kayla quickly adds before she could be interrupted, "She's safely hidden, I assure you, but I left a tracker on her so I can find my way back. With your permission, I'd like to take a gunship out there and I'll retrieve the remains myself and bring them back so they can be properly identified and sent home to their families. There won't be any need for extra manpower or wasted supplies."

Ardmore didn't speak for a while, and Kayla had to use every muscle in her face to keep herself from smiling at the idea of Ardmore trying to remind herself that she needs to act sympathetic to the families of possibly deceased soldiers. Kayla was sure that Ardmore could care less about some bodies that were over a decade old, but courtesy forces her to be civil as she curtly nods to Kayla, "Permission granted. You get there, you extract the remains and come right back. That's it."

"Yes, ma'am."

The next morning, with a large satchel of "rations" at her hip, a mask over her face, and an AR rifle strapped to her back, Kayla is led to a gunship and then left alone. Remembering her previous training, Kayla strapped herself in and begin the process of starting up the engines while waiting for Control to clear her for take-off. Finally, she gets her orders and she barely contains her eagerness when responding cordially and taking off, floating up into the air before flying away. Silently repeating the rendevous coordinates Jake had provided her the day before, Kayla beelined in the direction of what used to be the Omatikaya's home.

In Sector Twelve, about ninety-three kilometers from the abandoned Hell's Gate facility, now sat a slowly healing memorial site of Hometree. Kayla had heard stories about this place, mostly from Mo'at, Neytiri, and even Neteyam, despite the fact the young Na'vi boy had never seen its former beauty before the RDA had decimated it. Despite never seeing it stand tall and mighty, Neteyam told stories that he had heard from the Na'vi around him who had seen it. He even proudly stated how his own bow, much like his mother's and maternal grandfather's, was made from the wood of Hometree. It is from Neteyam's stories that now let Kayla's imagination run wild as her gunship slowly circles around the site of the former home of the Omatikaya.

Most of it was still barren, Eywa's hold not yet fully restored over this land. Plants and signs of life were visibly, but not yet solidified. The great corpse of such a large, magnificent tree was still visibly, lying across the landscape like a fallen giant. Vegetation was growing all around its trunk, uproots, and branches, cementing it to the forest floor where it will one day fully return to the dirt to give back what it had taken from the Great Mother. Neytiri once told Kayla that the tree will likely not fully decay under her children's grandchildren are born, but by then, she hopes that more songs will be sung for them to remember it by.

Reaching her destination, Kayla slowly lowers her gunship to the forest floor but wisely chooses to stay inside the vessel, knowing that the world's immune system will not take her presence lightly-- not in this mundane form. She anxiously waits, breath somewhat shaking when she exhales, and purposely cuts the engine. She won't be needing to bring this gunship home, after all.

She's thankful that she doesn't have to wait for very long, hearing the familiar, echoing call of an ikran approaching. Sighting familiar blue and purple wings, Kayla grabs her things and climbs out of the gunship, double-checking that her mask was tightly secured before stepping out into Pandoran air. Tightly holding the strap of her bag, she makes the trek over to the ikran and its rider, who has landed a bit of distance away from the gunship out of paranoia.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath of air, his expression solemn and grave as he took in the human form of his sister, in the flesh, for the first time in over two decades. She was shorter than he remembered, with her dirty-colored hair cut to her shoulders and those familiar, Sully blue eyes staring back up at him through her mask. It was like staring at a ghost, haunted by several memories and none of which Jake was entirely proud of, given the latest argument with his sister. Kayla stared back at him with an all-knowing gaze, equally somber and grim as she stood off to the side of his ikran, patiently waiting. Bob had bristled underneath his rider, clearly uneasy about the human beside him, but through the bond, the banshee kept mostly to himself, aware that he was not allowed to eat this human. Jake broke off tsaheylu and dismounted, trudging over to Kayla and motioning her to lift her arms.

"You're a lot smaller than I remember." He stated slyly while inspecting her person for any trackers or listening devices, gently taking the bag from her shoulder and flipping it open.

"Last I checked, I was taller than you in your wheelchair, so watch yourself."

He glanced up from the bag and hissed playfully at her, causing a small smirk to form behind the glass of her mask. Jake hands her back her belongings and then rejoined his ikran, taking a few sticks of dynamite and a detonator out from the pockets of his saddle.

Kayla frowned at the sight of the explosives, glancing between them and the gunship, "Are you sure you don't want another gunship on your side? Two is better than one."

The Na'vi shook his head, "We can't risk it. For all we know, the RDA is tracking all their gear now."

Sighing in defeat, Kayla nods and stands off to the side while Jake rigs the gunship with explosives and calibrates the blasting cap with a timer. He walks back to his ikran, forming tsaheylu before hopping on and reaching down to Kayla with an offered hand. She takes it willingly and allows him to lift her up on the banshee while Bob grunts disapprovingly at the added weight. Jake places Kayla in front of him on the saddle and they take to the sky, high enough to be out of range when Jake finally hits the button setting off the detonator.

The gunship explodes in a blooming flower of fire and debris, the smoke rising into the air in the form of a small mushroom cloud. The loud noise disturbs the wildlife momentarily, with small forest ikran and stingbats taking to the sky. Jake doesn't give the explosion much thought as he grabs a tighter hold on Eywa te' Bob tan'sey mak'ta with one hand, but squeezes Kayla's shoulder with the other, "Now with any luck, they'll label you killed in action."

"Or missing." She muttered.

"Ardmore isn't gonna want that kind of paperwork. She would much rather label you as a traitor than start a manhunt looking for you lost in the woods. You said it yourself, she doesn't like wasting resources on just one individual."

"... So that's it? Just like that, we disappear?"

"Not what you were hoping for?" He peered down at her briefly before looking ahead, continuing to fly.

Kayla hesitates, glaring ahead at the skies while internally fighting with herself before finally confessing her inner thoughts, "A part of me thought it would've been easier for the both of us if I never found out you were still alive. We could've just-- lived out the rest of our lives living in our respective worlds."

Jake allows the wind to fill in the silence, noting how defeated she sounded even with her back to him and the air whipping past them, obscuring her voice. He shakes his head despite the fact she couldn't see him, "The 'what if' scenarios aren't a thing around here. We don't believe in that kind of thing. Everything happens for a reason, and everything happens because it is the will of Eywa. I hope, in time, you'll learn to call this world your own as I did, kiddo."

She drops the debate, for the moment, and scoffs distastefully, "Okay, new rule. No more 'kiddo' talk. I'm not a child."

He smirks, "No? Then why are you small like one?"

He earns himself a sharp, small elbow in his ribcage when she reached back at him and a threatening promise, "Just wait, Sully. Soon I'll have your kids pinned against ya with all the stories I have of you up my sleeve. You'll regret the day you decided to pull me into this world."

~~~~~~~~~

Her nerves returned when they flew back to High Camp and a horn was blown to announce their arrival. Bob lands and Jake helps Kayla down before letting the ikran fly away. Na'vi were beginning to gather, and Kayla, yet again, felt more exposed than usual, even more so now as she was given some obvious glares regarding her obvious sky demon body and military clothes. Jake places a hand on the back of her neck, yet again, and led her away, immediately finding his family huddled together in the back of the crowd, waiting for him. He and Kayla part through the Omatikaya that have gathered and now stood in front of the Sullys.

Kayla wasn't surprised to see them all slightly hesitant by her human presence, and even though she couldn't blame them, it still made her stomach clench uncomfortably. She couldn't meet any of their eyes due to the height difference, and to her horror, even Tuk was taller than her in this form. When Kayla's eyes met the youngest Sully child's, Tuk shied away behind her mother's leg, clearly curious but unsure of getting closer. Off to the side, Kayla noticed that Norm, Max, and Spider were also there to greet her, and, much to her disappointment, even they stood taller than her as her fellow humans. The traitors. Kayla has never felt so small in her whole life.

Jake pats Kayla's back in sympathy while addressing the family, "Alright, Sullys. Your Aunt Kayla is going to be a more permanent presence in our lives now, and she's going to need help to feel welcomed as both a human and a Na'vi. I'm counting on you to have her back, okay?"

And of course, Neteyam is dutifully the first to step up, offering his hand out to Kayla with a gentle smile, "It's wonderful to meet you, Auntie-- again."

She sees a small hint of humor behind his eyes and relaxes, taking his hand in both of hers and smiling up at her oldest nephew, "You, too, 'Teyam."

He steps aside when he felt the shadow of his little brother behind him. The ice is broken and Lo'ak is milking the height difference with good-natured laughs and Spider was egging him on, glad that he was no longer the shortest out of the group. Kayla felt a grin twitch on her lips without her consent and pinches Lo'ak's side to make up for it, laughing when he yelped in surprise. Kiri had walked up, holding Tuk's hand so she didn't feel alone and the sight of the girls reminds Kayla that she had come bearing gifts to try to ease the kids back into accepting her.

"Kiri--" she calls out while frantically fishing around in the bag she kept strapped at her hip. Pushing aside a few necessities she had taken with her, she pulled out a book and sighed in relief, smiling up at the girl while holding the gift out to her, "As promised."

Kiri's eyes widen and reached out, gingerly taking the gift as if it was something precious. She read the title and then the author's name before glancing back down to Kayla, eyes and smile warm, "Thank you, Auntie."

Finally, Tuk's shell cracks and she begins by poking and prodding at the human woman that now stood shorter than her, lifting Kayla's arms and inspecting her form in awe before her fingers find her aunt's hair and instantly start playing with it. The girl giggles while stating, "It's so soft! We gotta braid all this, Kiri."

"Tomorrow, sweetheart, okay?" Kayla shines a smile at her youngest niece, who nods eagerly and puts her whole weight into hugging her aunt, who is barely able to catch her before they could fall.

Jake smiles while watching the heartwarming interactions before tapping Human Norm on the shoulder, "You got a space for her, right?"

"Absolutely. The second half of the old shack is still functional and is currently being used as storage. She can have my old bunk if she wants."

Jake's nose scrunched up, a little put off by the suggestion, "I doubt she'd want it if I told her all the things you and Trudy got up to in that bunk. She can have Grace's old space."

Norm snorts while shamefully scratching the back of his head, "Sure thing. Probably a better idea." He breaks away to greet Kayla himself, putting on the widest grin as he stands next to her, comparing their height difference with his hand much like before, "It's nice to see that this transfers, no matter what form you take."

Kayla rolls her eyes and shoves him in the chest, causing Norm to bark out a surprised laugh. Through reacquaintance with her family and friends, Kayla had noticed Neytiri standing off to the side in her peripheral. The human woman took a moment to pointedly stare at the Na'vi woman, their eyes meeting and forming a standstill. Neytiri was stiff, both in posture and expression, a statue that didn't waver against Kayla's gaze. It unsettled the Sully woman but she tried not to show that in her eyes, instead she brought her fingers to her forehead, and lowered them in Neytiri's direction. The Na'vi woman blinked, and with the gesture, her posture began to relax. Neytiri smiled. It wasn't big or emotional, but it was small and sincere. She nodded back in response.

After dinner, Norm brought Human Kayla to her new room she would be sleeping in when out of her avatar body. It was a separate trailer from the biolab, standing on its own and older than some of the buildings the humans have taken from Hell's Gate. Norm explains that the trailer was a part of Site 26, a small mobile link meant for avatar scientists who went off-grid for research in the mountains. He tells the story of how he was part of a small science group who retreated there to work so people like Parker Selfridge and Colonel Miles Quaritch wouldn't be breathing down their necks back in the day. After he and Kayla go through the airlock pressure doors and step inside, Kayla takes off her mask and looks around, immediately noticing a few familiar sights.

The first was a wheelchair, abandoned, covered in dust, tossed off to the side. Clearly, the place needed some cleaning, but Kayla wasn't worried about the dust at the moment. She beelined for the wheelchair, bending down and helping it stand back up on its wheels. Norm stands in the doorway and watches the scene in front of him with a solemn reaction, explaining as she continued to look around, "This is it. This is where Jake and I made our last stand as avatars before the fight. The other half of this shack is where the link bays were, but the trailer was completely demolished back in the war and so we left it abandoned out in the woods."

She moved over to the desk and lifted a picture from its home there, blowing away the layer of dust and revealing the contents of the picture. It was clearly Jake at the front of the group photo, human, sitting in that very same wheelchair, smiling at the camera lens. Kayla's finger briefly traces her brother's old face, willing her mind to remember it after staring at his avatar form for so long. Standing on either side of him was Norm and a woman Kayla didn't recognize. Clearly of a military background, the woman -at least younger back then compared to Kayla now- grinned behind her sunglasses, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and spilling over one side of her shoulders. Behind Jake, with both hands firmly placed on his shoulders, stood an older woman with short, curly red hair and sparkling eyes as she smiled, proudly, at the camera.

Kayla hears Norm shuffling around behind her and gently places the picture down, turning back to him as the male scientist was moving around some old equipment and patting the mattress of a bottom bunk off to the side of the trailer, "This was Grace's bunk. It's yours now."

That night, as she sat alone in her new living quarters, Kayla got to work on making this place feel more like home. The first order of business was to clean away all the old pictures and put up the new ones-- well, not really new compared to the photo of Jake, Norm, and the two women. Kayla retrieved her envelope of pictures and placed one photo on the mini-fridge, inspecting it for a moment before she had to move on.

The picture was definitely older than the ones of Jake and the scientists. It was a picture that was taken roughly a month before Tommy was killed. The twins were sitting on the couch so Jake could feel a bit of normalcy, requesting that his wheelchair be kept out of the frame of the photo. The twins smiled at the camera, and Kayla stood behind the back of the couch, leaning over her brothers with a wide grin on her face. Present Kayla smiles to herself before moving on to the next big step of her life.

~~~~~~~~~

As promised, Kayla spends the next morning and afternoon with her nieces, in human form, so that she can watch and learn how to properly braid Na'vi hair. She learns this by letting the girls use her unconscious avatar as a demonstration. Kayla's avatar hovered in her sleeping hammock, unconscious to the world, while both Kiri and Tuk weave every little bit of her locks into various small, intricate braids, pulling them tight along her scalp and purposely braiding the hair behind her large ears so the locks were out of her face. Kayla watched from off to the side, trying to pay attention even as the braiding took hours to complete. Tuk eventually got bored and left her sister to finish the look before excitedly asking her aunt if she could braid her human hair instead, to which Kayla agreed but only if the braids were larger and didn't take as long.

As the girls worked on both human and Na'vi hair, they decided to share their parents' love story, much to Kayla's awe, amusement, and horror all in one. Of course, she was curious about how her brother and Neytiri met and why Jake decided to turn against his own kind for her, but Kayla wasn't hoping for any specific details. Unfortunately, the Na'vi do not shy away from such topics and even openly talk about it to their young, as Tuk liked to prove to her auntie as she refused to spare her any... scrutinous details.

"-- And then they mated before Eywa!"

Kiri's body and tail go rigid even as she frantically scrambles over hammocks to cover Kayla's ears while berating her loudmouth sister, "Tuk!"

Despite the uncomfortable conversation, Kayla found herself laughing to the point she was crying, holding her ribs as they ached and wheezing until she couldn't breathe. She didn't find the initial storytime hysterical, but Kiri's haste to spare Kayla's dignity, Tuk's innocent gaze, and Kiri's hands practically folded on either side of the human woman's face definitely acted as the cherry on top.

Days went by and Kayla was much more comfortable jumping in and out of her avatar form, even more so now that she wasn't waking up and being constantly poked and prodded. On one of her first days as a human in High Camp, Kayla wore a tank top and was bombarded with concerned questions when Max noticed all the needle scars on her arms. Although she tried not to think about how she was practically a guinea pig for the RDA, her family wasn't letting her forget it. Max must have told Jake because the olo'eyktan regarded his duties for the day to instead take some time to spend with his little sister. He grabbed a child's bow and brought her down to the forest floor to do some fishing, even keeping a spare mask strapped to his hip for her if she needed it. He never asked about the scars, but Kayla could feel his eyes on her arm when she pulled the string of her bow back and tightened her form per his instructions.

After firing and missing a few arrows, clearly distracted by his stares, she sighed heavily before turning to look up at him, "It'll never happen again, thanks to you."

~~~~~~~~~

In between lessons, Kayla was finally getting to know other humans who honorably live among the Omatikaya. One individual, Jocelyn, was one of Kayla's personal favorites, aside from Norm and Max. Jocelyn was a biolab tech and didn't own an avatar, so she goes about her day normally, as a human, with a breather mask always secured on her face. Her knowledge stemmed from fixing vital technology -to help the humans survive- all the way to medical training -to keep the avatars kicking-. Not only did she live among the Na'vi, she talks to them fluently, and they don't appear bothered by her tiny presence. Kayla often sees Jocelyn, short as she is, trailing after a couple of young Na'vi hunters. Two young men, to be precise, who always love showing their little sky demon friend things they've brought back from their travels outside High Camp. They always let Jocelyn take samples and further inspect whatever they bring home. Not only was she a technician and a healer, she was also a scientist and she was always hungry for more knowledge of the world she lived in.

But even though she's full of wonder and excitement, she is also pretty strict. The kids in particular exasperate Jocelyn and Kayla always gets a kick out of watching her trying to wrangle the Sully kids whenever Spider sneaks them around the biolab. Kayla has interacted with Jocelyn loads of times at this point and always found her intriguing, but this took the cake, especially when she noticed how Spider practically had the female biotech wrapped around his finger. To be fair, Spider has most of the human scientists and avatars wrapped around his finger. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and the humans left behind on Pandora were no exception when it came to raising Spider.

However, despite this, Kayla couldn't help but wonder why Spider doesn't hang out with anyone else outside of the humans and the Sullys. He's an overall good kid and he's passionate about the Na'vi culture. If it weren't for the physical looks, Kayla would've definitely thought he was one of the Omatikaya when they first met.

She decides to ask him about this one day when Spider decided to sit down and teach her more of the language. Kayla was in her avatar form that day, now sporting tightly braided hair with beads that clicked when she walked. Kayla had to admit that she liked her new look even more knowing that her nieces had woven her a new identity. Spider appeared relaxed while teaching her certain words that are generally used in combat while her mind was still buzzing with her own questions.

"So do you just hang out with Kiri and Lo'ak or do you have other friends?"

Spider shrugged, "Some of the other scientists had kids while being stuck here, but I was older than all of them so I didn't play with them much."

Kayla nods, indicating she was listening. She had been told of Ardmore's initial threats to the humans who harbored Jake Sully and the Omatikaya when the Sky People first returned to Pandora. Some humans, especially the ones with families, stood down and surrendered in exchange for full pardons and safety for their children. That included Spider's foster family, the McCoskers. From what Kayla has heard, Spider's foster family was not the greatest of guardians, especially the foster father. He had betrayed Jake and the Na'vi to Ardmore, being responsible for the deaths of fellow humans who sympathized with the Omatikaya. Jake didn't go into depth with what happened to the McCoskers and the other humans who surrendered, but she assumed that for Spider's own sake, no one wanted to mention them now that they're gone.

Spider didn't appear to notice Kayla's inner turmoil as he continued, "Tuk is kinda in the same boat. I hung out with Neteyam for a while there. We're the closest in age... but he hasn't really been wanting to hang out anymore."

"Why not?"

The boy stares off in the distance, unable to keep his eyes on Kayla for long before he has to look away again as he muttered, "Probably because he's training to be the next olo'eykan. Which is fine. Good for him."

It sounded only partially genuine, and Kayla doesn't back down, "But Kiri can still hang out with you even as... uh... what's the word for tsahik in training?"

"Tsakarem."

"Right." Silence lingers until Kayla braves awkward silence, "It... it doesn't have to do with whatever Neytiri has against you, does it?"

A scowl immediately forms behind the breathing mask, "She hates me. Hates the fact her kids love me even more."

"From my experience, it doesn't take much to be on her bad side," she tried lightening up the mood, "I wouldn't sweat it too much, kid."

"You don't get it."

"Don't I? I know she's not overly fond of humans."

"It's more than that with me. To her... I remind her of the man who nearly took everything from her family. My father was Quaritch."

The name sounds bitter on Spider's tongue, clearly a bad taste for him. Kayla's comically big and yellow eyes widen even further, "You mean the colonel who ran security at the mine before the humans were sent back to Earth?"

He only nods and she hisses in sympathy, "Shit. Okay, I can see why you'd have a hard time getting on Neytiri's good side."

"Yeah. No kidding."

~~~~~~~~~

Unlike Spider, it didn't take Kayla a whole lot to get on Neytiri's good side, but it's not as though she had to try. Neytiri was already warming up to Kayla, both in and out of her avatar form. The Na'vi woman sometimes enjoyed Kayla's presence in her human body, despite not wanting to be around the other Sky People that live amongst her clan. In many ways, Neytiri felt as though she was with Grace or Sylwanin again. They would've loved Makayla Sully. She was more level-headed than Jake -or at least compared to when he was younger- and she was observant, someone who calculates before doing anything. She thought ahead and she always had something Neytiri remembered Grace calling 'common sense'.

Neytiri grew to appreciate Kayla and would fondly watch her interact with Jake. Neytiri was aware that her mate had at least one sibling in the past, but up until now, she could only imagine what kind of a brother he was. With Kayla around, Neytiri got to see a side of her husband he hadn't let anyone see before. With Kayla around, a bit of mischief returns to his eyes, always ready to tease his sister without a second thought, regardless of who was watching. Mo'at wanted to berate the olo'eyktan for such childish behavior, but Neytiri was quick to silence her mother, "They need time to be reacquainted as siblings."

And siblings they were. Neytiri often smiled when around the adult Sully siblings. Watching Jake and Kayla interact often reminded her of other sibling duos, such as Neteyam and Kiri, or even herself and Sylwanin. But it's not to say Jake and Kayla were the most perfect siblings. Kayla still had trouble forgiving Jake for past mistakes and would often remind him of said mistakes just to add dirt to the fresh, reopened wound. Neytiri understands why Kayla must hurt Jake the way she had been hurt, but Jake was still Neytiri's husband and she was protective -if not a little possessive- of him. So, to try and find peace between the brother and sister, Neytiri decides to take Kayla hunting without Jake present.

Kayla didn't refuse, slipping into her avatar form and excitedly following Neytiri to her ikran. The pair fly down to the forest floor and immediately pick up a trail that had to be yerik. While tracking the animal down, Neytiri found it the best time to breach the topic, "Jake tries his best to help you feel at home here. You try your best to push him away."

Blunt as ever, she takes Kayla off guard, the female avatar turning back to face her with wide eyes. They stood in silence, the hunt momentarily forgotten until Kayla's mind catches up to her and she shakes off the initial shock. She turns back to the task at hand, following the tracks Neytiri had instructed her to follow with a scowl on her face, "Jake was the one who told me that relying on others won't help when you're trying to survive. I'm just living up to his advice."

"He's not like that. Not Ma Jake."

"Then congratulations, Neytiri," she exclaimed sarcastically, "You got to experience the best side of him. I didn't. I lost a brother before him. I can do it again."

"Can you?"

She is met with silence again, staring at the back of Kayla's head. Neytiri took the moment to admire the braids her daughters have woven into their aunt's hair before bringing herself back to the present and gently adding, "I understand."

"Do you?"

"I lost my sister," Neytiri forced out, her tongue tasting bitter from the words. She never said such things out loud, and the shock that sinks into Kayla's face was one of the reasons why. Neytiri despised any pity people send her way after everything she's lost. She didn't want the pity, especially now when she has more family than she ever thought she'd have. "The Sky People murdered her right in front of me. I was only a little older than Neteyam when it happened."

Kayla's mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something comforting to say but the only words that come out are her initial thoughts, "Oh, my God. I'm sorry."

Neytiri tightens her lips together and briefly smiles before letting it fall, having heard all those words before. She took point in the hunt, walking ahead while following the tracks so she wouldn't have to look at her sister-in-law, "Can I ask? What happened to Tomsully?"

"He was killed," Kayla explained automatedly, "Some... murderer with a gun shot him down in the streets and left him to die alone. It was cold and raining that day. They said he didn't suffer, but..." Kayla shook her head to refrain from thinking about it, "I wasn't there. Neither was Jake. I was job searching and Jake was out drinking his life away. He never mentioned?"

"He grieves as I do. I don't talk of my sister. My children don't know enough about her. Ma Jake says little about his old life."

Kayla swallowed thickly, eyes hard as she stared at the back of Neytiri's head, "Let me guess. He never mentioned me."

The Na'vi woman paused in her steps, hesitating before finally turning back to meet Kayla's eyes, "I did not know he had a sister until you came here."

That stung. It stung knowing that neither women were ever aware of each other until now but Kayla couldn't wrap her head around another mystery, "So-- how are you so calm about all of this? Why are you so accepting of me? I'm part of the same species that's responsible for your sister's death."

"So is Ma Jake."

"But you're not hostile toward me like you had been when you first met Jake, or so I'm told. Why?"

Neytiri smiles, opening her mouth and taking a breath before whispering, "... You are my husband's sister. He shares your blood... as do my children."

She steps closer to Kayla, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, much to Kayla's surprise as Neytiri proclaims, "You are Makayla te Suli tsmuke te Toruk Makto. You are my family now. Ma tsmuke."

Kayla's ears and tail twitch in attention to the sound of her name, using her newly gained knowledge of the language to finally understand what her sister-in-law said. Slowly, a smile formed on her lips, warm and quivering ever so slightly, nodding to Neytiri when she didn't have any other words to say.

She had always wanted a sister.

~~~~~~~~~

By the time the kids had gotten used to Kayla's human form, they were dying to show her their world through her eyes and not her avatars'. Without her night vision, everything glowed so beautifully at night and Spider suggested taking her to some fields to watch the fan lizards fly. Lo'ak was immediately all for the idea, dragging the rest of his siblings into it so they could all go. His parents were hesitant at first, but then Kayla reassured them that she'll keep a close eye on the children and so Jake and Neytiri relaxed before seeing them all off, wishing them to have fun.

The children didn't waste time once they were deep in the forest, hunting for kenten as eclipse rolled around. Before she could blink, Kayla was completely surrounded by floating lizards, glowing in many shapes and colors, flying above her head with helicopter-like wings. All the kids laughed at her reaction, the human gobsmacked by such wonder. Tuk tugged her along and the kids all began running around in the fields, disrupting more fan lizards and laughing as the animals took to the sky, igniting the world around them with their soft lights.

Kayla stood off to the side, watching the children and laughing with them. After a time, Spider had taken a break from the fun and collapsed on the ground at Kayla's feet, laughing in between catching his breath. Looking up, he noticed the adult's eyes on his and his smile immediately fell, quickly turning his eyes away to watch his friends play in the fields while trying his best to ignore Kayla's stares and shrink in on himself.

Kayla didn't take it to heart, only bluntly stating what she thought, "You prefer me in my avatar form, don't you?"

Spider's shoulders rise and fall but he still couldn't look at her, "... Sorry."

"No sweat. Can I ask why?"

He shrugged, "I don't know."

"I think I do. Can I guess?" Spider shrugs again and Kayla plops down in the spot beside him, resting her arms over her knees when she brought her legs up close to her chest, "Originally I only wanted to hang out with you and the other humans in my own skin so you didn't feel intimidated, but I think you're actually more intimidated by humans compared to Na'vi. You prefer my avatar because it's all you've ever known living here."

They sit in silence apart from the Sully kids laughing when one of the kenten decided to land on Lo'ak's face to rest. Spider huffed a small laugh at the scene but otherwise didn't say anything. Kayla grabs his attention again by elbowing him, "It's not a bad thing."

"It's not?"

"Why would it?"

He spares a glance at her, the reflection from both of their masks making it difficult to find her eyes right away, "You don't think it's bad that I prefer hanging out with a species other than my own?"

She flashed an amused, exasperated expression, "Kid, my brother permanently transferred his soul from one body to another of a completely different species. Do you think I'm one to judge you when you're the one teaching me the Na'vi ways and hanging out with my brother's kids?"

She laughed and Spider's ears heat up in shame, a little embarrassed for assuming the worst out of her. He looked away and mumbled under his breath, "My foster family didn't want me to forget where I came from."

"That's not bad either unless they forced you..." Initially, Kayla brushed off the silence until it began to linger too long, then she spared a glance back at Spider. He was stiff, unable to stare back while stubbornly keeping his eyes on the Sully kids. Kayla's eyebrows furrow, "Did they force you?"

"... What is Earth like?"

"Sure. You strike me as the kind of guy who would like music concerts. I'll start there."

Beating around the topic and finding a new one. Classic. It almost would have been easier if Spider had just said 'yes', but Kayla doesn't scold him. Instead, she hums, staring up at the stars as she thought back to her homeworld, "Nothing you would miss, kiddo."

"Can you tell me things I might've missed?"

A/N: Jocelyn is technically one of the many unnamed scientists we see in the Way of Water. She's the one who Tuk annoys with her toy in her first scene and further gets after the teens when they cut through the Avatar Longhouse. She technically doesn't have a name but I used her actress' real name to fill in the blanks.

Sorry if this felt a little rushed, but the next chapter is gonna be the start of the events that transpire during the Way of Water! Buckle up! We're getting close and I'm so excited to share with ya'll! Thank you so much for the support!

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tabbycat-of-hatchetfield · 3 months

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Hatchetfield is No Place For a Tabby Cat - ch 1

mandatory introduction chapter!

Tabatha Danehower rolled out of bed, or as far out of bed as she could mentally handle that Saturday, and slapped the snooze button on her alarm clock. She groaned: whichever one of her wonderful family members had decided to reset her alarm was going to be in for a world of hurt. She stumbled to her feet to address herself in the mirror.

She was tall for her age, 5 '8, probably because her dad could have been an NBA star…but instead taught algebra to a bunch of snot-nosed sixth graders. Her eyes were about the same shade of brown as caramel that’s been sitting on the stove for too long. Her skin was pale, with some weird red blotchy bits left over from sitting in the sun for too long (that’s what happens when you burn like a fucking vampire). Her blonde hair was tied down into two braids; she hadn’t even bothered undoing them before bed. Still, she forced a smile. For the first Saturday in ages, Tabby went downstairs before 8:00 o’clock.

She was surprised to see the rest of the family was already awake. Her mother was sitting at the dining room table with a mug of hot tea and a piece of toast with jam. Her father sipped coffee, leaning against the cabinets in his brightly-colored pajama bottoms and Star Trek t-shirt. Her little brother, Levi, was sitting in the family room on his bean bag chair, eyes fixed on Paw Patrol on the TV.

Tabby yawned and sat down across from her mother, helping herself to a pear from the fruit bowl on the table.

“My, my! Someone’s up early!” Her mother commented, flicking a finger at her daughter. “You look like you were hit by an 18-wheeler, dear! Look at that hair…I told you to take out the braids before you went to bed, but did you listen? No.” Mrs. Danehower made a sharp little tsk tsk noise, taking a dainty sip of her tea.

Tabby rolled her eyes and shot a glare at her mother. “Maybe if you let me cut my hair we wouldn’t have this issue.”

“But you love your long hair!” Her mother seemed taken aback.

“Correction, you love my long hair. I love not having to suffer every time I have to comb this fucking mess.”

“Tabatha! Language!”

“Oh, forgive me. I love not having to comb my diddly darn frickity frackity pancake-flippin’ hair.”

Tabby took another massive bite out of the pear, tossing the core into the trash can on her way to the living room. Once there, she flopped over on the sofa, kicking her legs up. Levi glanced up at her.

“Good morning!” He chirped, and Tabby couldn’t help but smile. This kid was the one constant in her life: from the moment her little brother was born, the two had been practically tied at the hip.

“Morning, stinker.” She teased, ruffling his hair. “Sleep well?”

“I dreamed I was a dinosaur.”

“Me too bud. Me too.”

Saturday morning crawled on. By the time it was 9:00, Tabby and Levi had already built a blanket fort, complete with one of their mother’s duvets for a “rug” inside the hideaway. Tabby had just returned from upstairs, heaps of plushies in her arms, when she felt a bump against her leg.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” She leaned over the pile of stuffed animals to see a real, non-stuffed animal weaving between her legs. “You little shit, Raisin.”

Raisin was Tabby’s pride and joy–she had always been a cat person, but she had shown signs of cat allergies since Kindergarten. Her dad, being one to enjoy the strange and unusual had hence, about a year ago, showed up with a box containing what appeared to be a small, hairless rodent of some sort. Her mother had shrieked, Levi had started laughing his ass off, but Tabby knew what it was instantly.

So now, there was a wrinkly-faced, pink-skinned, hairless feline monster prowling the Danehowers’ apartment, and there was nothing they could do about it. He went by the name of Raisin, but real servants to the hairless god knew his full moniker of Sir Oatmeal-Raisin Cookie Cake the Fourth. His hobbies included licking the butter out of the butter dish, laying on the stairs so people trip over him going down, and antagonizing the neighbor’s dog by meowing loudly at the shared wall.

At least he didn’t shed.

At this moment, Raisin seemed to be in a mellow mood, so Tabby wasn’t too worried about his antics. She returned to their fort (the artfully named Forty McFortface) and deposited her weight in plush bunnies, cats, and one alligator named Kevin.

#hatchetfield oc #my ocs #tabatha danehower #tabby danehower #tabby cat chat #not rp #ooc #HINPFATC

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 7 months

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Desert Rain

post-overblot not-therapy-session with jamil and azul. cw: none besides jamil's sailor mouth also on ao3 gift for @basuralindo 🐙🐍

Kalim and his fucking parties.

Jamil had a half a mind to let Kalim get poisoned if it meant he’d never have another extravagant event dumped in his lap. Maybe he could fake his own death while was at it. Should it wait until after he finished college, or would it matter? Maybe he could enroll at another school under an assumed name.

Couldn’t be that hard. He’d been invisible his whole fucking life, after all.

“Still sulking?”

Jamil scowled, though only the shifting, moonlit sands could see it. “Leave me alone.”

Words had never stopped the approach of Insufferable Azul™️ before, and they didn’t stop him now. His cane pinged on the tile in time with the snap of his expensive shoes. Jamil wondered how bad it would be if he pitched forward from his perch on the window ledge just to escape this conversation. He could catch himself with wind magic. Probably.

He cringed at his own suggestion. He could still taste the bitter ink in his mouth. Forget magic. He should drop out, disappear, and take up underwater basket-weaving.

Azul had the sense to maintain a safe-ish distance and looked out at the desert below. “I was going to let you know there is plenty of food, but I suppose you would know, since you made most of it.”

Any other time, Jamil might have been able to mask his emotions. Instead, he snapped like the snake that carried his family name. “How about leave me the fuck alone, then? Need me to translate it into Fish while I’m at it?”

Azul gave a light, insufferable chuckle and rested his elbows on the ledge. “At least you are expressing yourself this time.”

Jamil gave a low growl, but he didn’t feel like engaging with this bastard, now or ever. Looking at landscapes was supposed to calm a person down, but all he could see was how the moon’s glow reflected on the pools and puddles glinting in the valleys of the dunes. Even now, he couldn’t escape Kalim.

He hated himself for being this dramatic about it.

“I wouldn’t expect a rich bitch like you to understand,” he said flatly.

Azul snickered. “Clever. I admire that.”

“Could you just go away?” Jamil’s anger was now fizzling into defeated exhaustion. He needed a vacation at any time, but now, more than ever, the fatigue was settling into his bones. It felt like someone had yanked away the stick propping him up and was now beating him with it. “I don’t have the energy for this.” Wow, another honest statement. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d tasted lies for so long that the truth had become a foreign language.

“I do not completely understand,” Azul said. “You are correct about that.” He shrugged. “But I have gathered enough information to support a hypothesis, if you’ll allow me.”

Back to being annoyed. “It’s a free country,” Jamil grumbled.

Azul turned around and leaned back against the wall so he could look sideways at Jamil, who was suddenly fascinated with the stitching on the inside of his hoodie and furiously avoiding eye contact. “You feel that Kalim has been holding you back,” he began. “With his status and incompetence, certainly - but even if he were capable of independence, you would be in the same situation, yes?”

Jamil didn’t answer that.

“Personally, I’ve found it a more constructive use of my time and energy to…make use of such people, if you will.”

“Good for you. I have not enjoyed this lesson on Bullshit 101. One star.”

Azul outright laughed. “See? It feels better to be yourself, doesn’t it?”

Jamil sighed. “What do you want, Azul?”

Azul tilted his head and flicked his gaze to the ceiling as if itemizing the answers. “Mmm, well, if we’re being specific-”

“From me.”

Azul’s eyes rolled over to look at him. “Would you believe I wanted to make sure you were alright?”

Jamil turned sideways on the white stone so he could lean back against the window frame and pull his knees to his chest. “I would believe you wanted to make sure there was something left to wring out of me.”

“Ehh, why bother?” Azul said dismissively. “You already know my weaknesses, and now I know yours. We’re even.” He shrugged again. “I also know what you’re capable of.”

Jamil gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, see? I was right. Pay up.”

Azul took to examining the brilliant diamond in the head of his cane. All too recently, it had been the same burnt, oil-slick black as Jamil’s own magestone, but looking at it now revealed no trace of that. “We have a fair bit in common, like it or not. Feeling isolated, desperate…betrayed…” He sighed deeply. “The worst combination that can be imagined, in my opinion.”

There was little point in arguing.

“I am not going to offer you any hollow sentiments, Jamil. I merely wanted to ensure you were alright.”

“Yeah. You said.”

It got quiet. Jamil looked out at the desert again and saw less moonlight than before. Clouds were gathering and growing thick. No thunder, but he smelled the oncoming rain. Real weather, or real enough in their little dimension. Not the water Kalim managed to conjure up.

“What was it like?”

This time it was Azul to glance curiously at a question. Jamil looked contemplative. “What was what like?”

“Swimming through the desert.”

Certainly not the question Azul expected. “Unusual. Something I never would have thought possible. And something I will likely never experience again.”

“Mm.”

Jamil felt weird. Not really tongue-tied. More like all the knots had come untied and he didn’t know how to talk anymore. “Are there any stuffed dates left?” he asked awkwardly.

Azul squinted in the direction of the banquet tables. “No, it looks like Kalim ate them all. Why, did you want one?”

“No, I hate looking at them.”

Azul was surprised when Jamil laughed with him.

“What’s so funny?” Jamil asked through a smile he was trying desperately to conceal.

“I hate them, too.”

“Ha, I didn’t think you’d ever eaten anything but sushi and vegetables.”

Azul smiled slyly. “Perhaps I have the upper hand for the moment, then, if I know more about you than you about me.”

“Yeah, well, I know what foods those weirdos that follow you around happen to like, too.”

Azul was no longer smiling. “Really,” he said.

Jamil shrugged and looked out at the sprinkle of rain. It was making the low-lying pools glitter in what moonlight filtered down through the clouds. “Sure. The other day, Jade asked me if I had a recipe for octopus curry.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #can be friendship or shipship #twst fic

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fueledbysano · 2 years

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𝟎𝟏𝟎 | All by Yourself

summary: After spending a lazy, domestic morning with Mikey at the Sano household, [ Y / N ] seeks after him when a past family drama was revealed. Draken unexpectedly meets Morin.

content/warnings: this story contains major Tokyo Revengers manga spoilers, canon divergence setting, tenjiku arc setting, comfort, fluff, angst, detailed writing of violence, weapons, blood, death, and strong language.

wc: 3k

series masterlist | previous | next

A mottle of baby blue and white, blended to fashion the morning gray, adorned the newborn sky. Despite being early in the day, Morin was eager to figure out what to make out of this situation. She therefore met with Takemichi in search for answers

“Where are we going, exactly?” She questioned as the older boy started walking in a hurry.

“I can't seem to get a hold of Chifuyu.” He shook his head.

The girl didn’t seem to grasp his words at first, as she was occupied with figuring out how to navigate through what she could call a “vintage” phone from the year she came from. Hina was kind enough to let her borrow a spare phone in order to get in touch with her and the others at all times.

“Oi, Takemitchy!” Their attention was taken to the tall boy in the distance.

“Hm, I know that guy. Is that dad's best friend?” Morin examined his notable braided hair and the dragon tattoo on his temple.

“Yeah, it's Draken-kun!” Takemichi answered.

“Good morning.” Draken stops his tracks.

“Uh, good morning, Draken-kun!” Takemichi said.

“Who's this?” Draken asks in curiosity as he refers to the girl who looked flabbergasted. He had never seen her before, yet she seemed so familiar, he thought to himself for a while as he studied her dirty blonde hair and dark eyes.

This however gave Takemichi and Morin to share a tense glance and come up with a lie on the spot. “She's uh… my, my… cousin.” He blurted.

“Uh, hey then.” Draken spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Draken-kun.” She bowed.

“ I'm going to see Mikey. Wanna come with?” He turns back to Takemichi.

“Uhm, sure.” He nodded before turning to the girl. “Please wait for me here.”

“Yea sure.” Morin agreed.

And as they left her alone, Draken couldn't help but linger over the sense of familiarity with the new girl. Takemichi mentioned a male cousin, yet, this girl didn't resemble neither of the guys. She reminded him of someone else. Yet, that, he couldn't pin.

“Grandpa, wake Mikey up!” There was a hug of breakfast prepared by Emma upon the table, the same as was there every day, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She’d also invited [ Y / N ], knowing that the older girl didn’t go to school on this day of the week.

“He won’t get up. [ Y / N ], you should try.” The old man spoke from behind the newspaper.

“Me?” [ Y / N ] was just about to taste the orange juice that she had helped Emma with when she heard grandpa Sano talk to her.

“He likes you, doesn’t he? Maybe that’ll help…” She yelped at his comment, wondering whether he was aware that Mikey was arriving home late since he drove her home, or vice versa.

“Right away,” She agreed with a bow and headed for Mikey’s room.

[ Y / N ] almost forgot what she was here for when she saw the boy tangled in his sheets for the first time. He slept like a baby quite literally— with his locks weaved everywhere, mouth hung open, legs occupying the whole mattress and hands clinging onto a worn out towel.

However, somehow, seeing Mikey so peacefully plucked the girl’s heartstrings, and for a moment, she thought of letting him be and step outside instead. However, she didn’t want him waking up late and messing up his sleeping schedule any more.

“Oi, get up…” She caves in with a sigh, poking at his cheek. The gesture made Mikey pout and turn his back towards her with a soft groan. “Wake up, angel.”

Unbeknownst to her yet, Mikey’s eyes widen at the nickname, a cheeky smile painting on his face coming up with the idea of turning over and embracing [ Y / N ]’s hips in an embrace.

“Mikey…” [ Y / N ] was thankful that he couldn’t see the dumb smile on her face as he clings onto her.

“Wait, what did you call me?” Mikey asks, looking up at her.

“I’m not gonna say it again, get up.” [ Y / N ] refused with a scoff.

“No, no, say it.” He insisted.

“No. It’s lame and corny.” She rolled her eyes, attempting to remove his arm.

“[ Y / N ]!”

“Alright, it’s not cute anymore when you’re this whiny.” She sighed, successfully getting rid of his arms and then getting up.

“B!”

“What?”

“Just take the food and let’s eat here.” He asks.

“You’re so lazy. Didn’t Draken scold you about getting crumbs in here? Come on up.” She pointed out.

“I… can’t.” He yawned, sinking further under the cold sheets and taking the old, blue cloth along.

“Alright. the towel goes.” [ Y / N ] managed to take out the piece of cloth hanging just over the blankets which was enough for Mikey to jolt upwards.

“Hey!”

“Come, get it.” She waved it around and leaned against the doorframe.

“You do know how to push my buttons.” Mikey was left with no choice but to get up and ruffle the girl’s hair before taking the towel.

“About time!” Emma spoke once Mikey entered.

“Food…” Although still half-asleep, Mikey drooled at the scent of the food on the table. “Morning, Grandpa.”

“Mornin!”

“Emma… I told you to flip my sunny side up and crush it, right?” Mikey pouts when he sat down, noticing the eggs weren’t done the way he liked them.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Emma spat.

“Mikey, I’m here!” Outside the household, Draken speaks. Emma perked once she heard the boy’s voice, and [ Y / N ] noticed the subtle rosy tone on her cheek as she finished her plate.

“Go wait in my room, Kenchin!” Mikey yelled back.

“I met Takemichi just now, I’ll bring him along, alright?”

“Okay!”

“Thank you for breakfast, Emma. Thank you, grandpa Sano.” [ Y / N ] bowed upon finishing her meal and then turning to Mikey, “Should I accompany Takemitchy and Kenchin?”

“That’ll be nice. Thank ya!” Mikey agreed, cheeks stuffed with food.

“This is Mikey’s room.” [ Y / N ] reached the doors just in time before the two boys could enter.

“Oh, it’s in a different building.” Takemichi noticed.

“What’s up?” [ Y / N ] waved at the two.

“[ Y / N ]-chan, hi!”

“This was originally the garage where Shinichiro-kun always tinkered his bike all the time.” Draken says.

“I see.”

“Mikey and I came here and watched him work. He never got tired, I tell ya.”

“Amazing.”

“Wait till you see inside.” [ Y / N ] spoke and reached for the door, letting themselves inside the spacious area.

“Woah! Mikey’s room is so cool!” Takemichi continues to marvel at the surroundings until the owner himself joins the three.

“I only own the bed.” Voice still half-asleep, Mikey stands just behind them.

“Mikey-kun!”

“It’s still morning, don’t be loud.” He groaned.

Once they were complete, Draken immediately sat them down for the sole reason of his visit.

“I see. Kurokawa Izana. So it was him the other day.” Mikey had his arms crossed as his best friend worked on his hair behind the couch.

“You met him?” Takemichi asks.

“Yeah. [ Y / N ] and I did.”

“I mean, I was there, but I didn’t really get to talk to him.” She explained, recalling only having seen the man's back.

“Were you on a date?” Draken spoke, loud enough only for him to hear.

“Hey!” [ Y / N ] called from beside Mikey, “I said do me next.” She frowned, pointing at her hair.

“So he’s Tenjiku’s captain…” Mikey spoke.

“He was Black Dragon’s 8th Captain… and now, Tenjiku… Maybe he has a connection to Shinichiro-kun.” Draken spoke just as he finished brushing the last strands of [ Y / N ]'s hair.

“Huh?”

“Takemitchy, our discussion stays here.” He added.

“Yes.”

“Shinichiro-kun is the founder of Black Dragon.” Draken revealed.

“Uh.”

“Shouldn’t you be more surprised?” He was surprised by the boy's lack of reaction, with the three of them now eyeing him.

“Ah— No, uh, I was so shock my voice—”

“Well, anyways… the only people who know about this are me, Mikey, Baji, and [ Y / N ].” He continued.

“[ Y / N ] actually knew by herself before she met us.” Mikey mentioned.

“Yeah. My team’s older members knew Shinichiro-kun and he always invited them to friendly races.” She explained.

“Right. We decided to keep it a secret since Kazutora got in trouble with the Black Dragon.” Draken added.

“Before I confronted the 9th generation of Black Dragon, I talked to my brother.” Mikey recalled.

“So the person who corrupted Black Dragon was the 8th captain, Kurokawa Izana.” He said.

“Alright, I brought you guys tea!” Emma enters the room in the middle of their conversation.

As Emma served their cups of tea, Takemichi took this time to connect the missing pieces into this guy's identity.

“Izana Kurokawa, just, who the hell is he?” He spoke in frustration upon reaching a dead end.

“My brother.” Emma spoke casually, turning the heads of the four.

“Who?” They asked in unison.

“Like I said, he’s my brother.” She replied.

“Eh, me?”

“Come on, Mikey! I told you so many times! Because he’s also your half-brother.” Emma says. “My original name was Kurokawa and I have a brother who goes by that name!” Emma explained for what seemed like the hundredth time for her.

“Eh, really?” Mikey appeared to be confused.

“Another sibling… and a gang leader too? Damn, you Sanos grow them like weed.” While any sane person like Draken and Takemichi may find [ Y / N ]’s comment insensitive, Mikey thought otherwise and scoffed in response, while the other two yelped in shock, praying for [Y / N]’s poor soul.

“At least our gangs have leaders. You guys wanna hire Emma?” Mikey chuckled.

“HAHA, fuck you. Good one.” [Y / N] snorted, raising her arm for a hi-five with the boy.

“Are they always like this?” Takemichi scratched his head.

“What an interesting pair, right? Dark and twisted.” Draken remarked.

“Jeez, you never listen to anyone, do you!” Emma scolded her brother.

“Amen.” Draken subtly coughed.

“Ah! Now, I remember.” After a moment of reflection, Mikey spoke up.

“You liar.” Draken blurt.

“Um, Emma-chan?” Takemichi spoke up.

“Do you remember anything about Izana?” He asks.

“Not really, he left when I was only three years old.” She answered.

“I see.”

“Ah, but… I think he got along with big bro Shin really well.” She added.

“Huh?”

“With Shinichiro?” Draken asked.

“Huh, why would they be friends?”

“Hold on just a sec.” Emma excused herself before going through one of the shelves in the room.

“Tada!” She comes back with a tin box, setting it in between the circle.

“A tin?” Takemichi wondered.

“What is this?” Mikey asks.

“It turned up when we were sorting Shin's things.” Emma said, revealing the contents of the box.

“A bundle of letters written by Izana?” Takemichi was surprised upon reading the labels on the papers.

“Huh, all of these letters are from Izana?!” [ Y / N ] had the same reaction.

“Yeah, I didn't look at any of them though. but look how many there are! They must have gotten along pretty well.” Emma says.

“Gotten along? I don't know, this is kinda scary.” Draken remarked.

While all of them seemed to have been shocked or overwhelmed with the revelation, Mikey quietly went through some letters with a face of utter nonchalance.

“We'll find out. Anything?” [ Y / N ] looked up from the box

“I get it now.” Mikey's reaction puzzled them.

“I'm goin out for some air.” Without saying another word, Mikey left his room followed by the sound of his motorcycle engine revving away.

“Huh?”

“Look. Floor.” [ Y / N ] points at the discarded letter that Mikey was just holding.

“Dear Shinichiro, My head's been aching all the time recently. It hurts so much. I bet it's his fault.” Draken read upon picking up the letter. “Don't talk to me about Manjiro anymore.”

“Izana was abandoned by his family at a young age. And the first relative who came to visit him was Shinichiro-kun.” Draken points out.

“If that was the only thing he could rely on, then what would he think of Mikey?” Takemichi spoke.

“That's a good point. Izana took over the Black Dragons in Shinichiro's place.” Draken says.

“But when he heard that Shinichiro left the black dragons for Mikey to lead, how did he feel about that?” [ Y / N ] asks.

“... Envy?” Emma said.

“Yeah, he felt intense envy towards Mikey.” Draken agreed.

“Resentment.”

“Right, when the ninth generation attacked Kazutora, what if that was a plan by Izana to crush Mikey without Shinichiro finding out?” Draken says.

“What if Izana had a personal grudge against Mikey? With Shinichiro-kun gone now, he's founded tenjiku, and put his plans into motion.”

“So he can take out Mikey-kun for sure this time. So he can take out his blood-related younger brother.” Takemichi agreed.

Upon hearing this fair assumption, [ Y / N ] gets up from instinct, and takes her coat along.

“Oi, where are you going?” Draken scolded.

“Didn’t you hear him? Izana is after Mikey, right? What if they see each other?” She pointed out.

“[ Y / N ], he’ll be fine.” He sighed. “Why don’t I take you home?” Draken offered and prepared to leave.

“Eh, where's my motorcycle keys?” He wondered, patting around his empty pockets.

“Heh. Doraemon keychain?” His attention turned to [ Y / N ] when she spoke and shook the keys in her fingers.

“Oi, give it back here you kleptomaniac fuck!” He yelled as [ Y / N ] chuckled.

“Oh, here's the ring you had on last week too.” She took the jewelry from her pocket and then tossed it towards the tall boy.

“This isn't mine…” He examined the ring.

“Uh…”

“That's actually mine.” Emma tapped his arm with a shy smile.

“Oh, well, here you go.” He chuckled, letting the girl take the accessory from his hand.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“Uhm, Emma, I’m just going to help [ Y / N ] get home, ‘kay? She didn't bring her car for some reason and there are really creepy dudes down the street.” He points at the door.

“Of course! I appreciate you helping my best friend.” Emma nodded, “Please drive safely.” She pulled his arm to a hug as a goodbye. And as much as he tried to conceal it, Draken smiled at the gesture as quick as it drops when he remembered that Hanagaki was still around.

“Takemichi, You probably should go too. I don’t think Mikey is coming back anytime soon.” Draken says.

“Right.” He agreed.

“Actually, can you drop me off at the old highway? I'm gonna watch a race.” [ Y / N ] yelled from the driveway before starting the motorcycle by herself.

“Fine.” Draken sighed.

“And scold her to be careful this time too.” Emma chuckled.

“I will. Comfort your brother when he comes back home, okay?” Draken reminded.

“I will.”

—

“What happened in there? Why did Mikey and [ Y / N ] storm out? Did they fight? Why is she leaving WITH DRAKEN?” Morin bombarded Takemichi with questions as he was left alone outside Mikey's room.

“No, they didn’t fight so calm down!” He blurt. “Uhm, well… we just discovered a family secret. Should I tell you, I mean— you're technically family, Just—” He rambled.

“Ohh, is this about… Izana?” The girl paused her steps.

“Uh, how do you know him?!” Takemichi mirrored her action.

“As soon as you said ‘family secret’, it’s the first thing that came to mind. Also, he’s quite close with mom.” She casually spoke.

“... uhm, huh?” The boy gulped.

“She may have mentioned that Izana is sort of my uncle on dad’s side. I really don’t remember how she explained it because I was still young, but that’s the point. Part of mom’s work is meeting him, a man named Kakucho, and a bunch of other business savvy men and loan sharks.” She explained.

And as she was explaining [ Y / N ] and Izana's connection in the future, Takemichi had his own reflection dating as recently as his last time leap. “That's right!”

“Huh?”

“Just before I met you here, I came back from the future.” He said.

“And?”

“I wanted to dig for information on Izana. So, I went to see Taiju-kun with Naoto.”

“Mhm.”

“Things got pretty messy, and we ended up getting shot by Kisaki and Kakucho.”

“Just as I was losing consciousness, I saw Kakucho and Izana get in a car. I was pretty sure it was [ Y / N ]’s. It’s the fast one she drives around in races— the red one. That makes me ninety-nine percent sure. I just didn’t have the time to take it in. I needed Naoto by then.” He recalled.

“Holy shit.” Morin exclaimed, having found out that [ Y / N ] just may have been an accomplice to his murder.

“What does she do for a living, anyways?” Takemichi questioned.

“She’s always at racing tournaments. Like those F1 drivers. Then she owns racing stadiums and motors stores. Although, there’s one restaurant too. It makes me curious why build something so different.” She replied.

“Seems promising.” He nodded.

“But… There are occasional nights when she comes home late or in the morning. She says she’s just overlooking the businesses she owns but, I really don’t know. She’s friends with lots of shady people. I didn’t realize that until recently.” She added.

“That’s bad.”

“I can’t believe it. Does she have something to do with you getting killed?” She blurted.

“I doubt that. I really do. Izana did that because of his own personal reasons.”

“And what exactly is that? Dad’s death, right? That’s pretty personal for mom too.” Morin pointed out.

“Damnit.” Takemichi cursed.

“But, you're right. I doubt mom was involved too.” She sighed, getting up from the pavement they sat on.

“Hm?” He followed shortly.

“She spoke very highly of you…” Morin says.

“Is that… How you know about me?”

“Yeah. Photos have huge sentimental value for her too. Basically, just looking through them, it’s like I am there with you guys!” She recalled. “I just can’t believe it’s… literally possible. I’m living your lives right now.”

“I’m sorry, Morin.” Takemichi says.

“Hm?”

“This— time leaping, I’ve tried and failed. Sometimes, it's impossible to know who to trust. That’s why I didn’t let you come with us. We spoke about pretty top-secret shit in there! But, you seem to know about it already. Of course you do.” He rambled.

“I see.” She nodded.

“Please don’t kick drop me again!”

“No, I understand.” She nodded.

“Damnit. [ Y / N ] was there when Mikey met Izana.” Takemichi clicked his tongue. “Tsk. I have to make sure they don’t cross paths ever again. Whatever business she’s in in the future, it’s shady. She could be a higher-up in Toman or something…” He says.

“What if… she replaced Mikey?” Morin spoke.

“That’s… very likely. But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s already happened. We are here to end this sibling fight.” Takemichi nodded.

“Well, damn.” They both sighed.

“Right. Actually, I’m glad you left me here. Look what I stole from a thug while you were having a tea party there.” Morin headed to a nearby parked motorcycle and kicked its stand.

“Eh?” Takemichi blurted in surprise.

“Pretty cool, huh? Almost as cool as Toman’s motorcycles…” She laughed, pushing the vehicle’s button-powered start engine.

“You really are [ Y / N ]’s kid…” Takemichi shook his head.

“I thought mom doesn’t do motorcycles?” She tilted her head in curiosity.

“Yeah that’s Mikey-kun’s thing. But she has a reputation for grand theft auto.” He explained.

“So, where to?” Morin mounted the motorcycle, while Takemichi occupied the seat behind.

“Chifuyu’s place.” He spoke.

“No idea where and who that is.” She chuckled.

“That's sad. Right, I’ll show you.” He nodded. “Wait, if [ Y / N ] can't drive a motorcycle for shit, how did you learn to use one?”

“If I take after mom's habits, I get my dad's looks and old stuff!” She implied, raising the key to Mikey's CB250T.

If there's an upside to free falling, it's the chance you give your friends to catch you. It's true, we find out who our friends really are when we really need them the most. Friends are the people who will bring out the best in you, as well as be the people who will bring you out the darkest of places.

Even the unexpected ones you meet along the way.

tag list [ open ]: @haimyvu @rizakari @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @mitsurisupremacy @moontofu @psmslove @slutaholic69 @im-like-yeah-hes-fine @keomi-kimo @springtimewolf1995 @bebesanzu @imshittingforyelena @dailyakira @idunnomynamesince2005 @juanaisdead @emilymikado @haruu-i @keisaint @misinfe @fxshigurosbae @xxserenitysnow666xx @emyrl @xngelsau @melody005 @daichisbabymama @4leafcloverwithawhitecraneforyou @r-xochitl @sleezy-axeriix @pandabooster @amerillyss @tellynojelly @kenkenmaaa @astrodiamond @ikilledsparky2 @soushswag @eriskaitto @awkwardaardvarkforever

#tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey imagines #mikey x you #manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #mikey x reader fluff

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storyswept · 9 months

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After finishing the recently released sample of The Running Grave, I couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the book will unfold (which I guess is the point).

(Spoilers under the cut)

The 2 deaths by drowning we're told about in the prologue intrigued me, so I decided to do a little research about drowning in Chinese culture and found some interesting tidbits.

There are folktales about drowned people becoming ghosts or spirits:

According to legend, Nüwa, a girl who drowned in the Eastern sea was turned into a bird called Jingwei after her death. To prevent others from meeting the same fate, she drops twigs and stones from the nearby mountains to fill up the sea.

Jennifer and Daiyu Wace both drowned on the sea off Cromer beach, which lies on the East Coast of England.

More chilling are the stories about shui gui (literally "water ghost"), drowned people who haunt the waters they died in and lure people to their deaths.

Folklore also claims that ghosts are particularly active during Ghost Month, the 7th month of the lunar Chinese calendar. During this month, it's recommended (among other things) not to swim. I checked - Daiyu Wace's death (on the 29th of July 1995) happened during Ghost Month.

I find it hard to believe this is a coincidence.

The names which Galbraith/Rowling chose for the Wace females are also quite interesting:

Mazu ("ancestor mother") is apparently the name of an East Asian goddess, particularly popular in Taiwan. It is said that, during her moral life, she saved part of her family from death at sea. Her father and brothers were fishermen and would have all died if not for her intervention. Having fallen into a trance while she was weaving at home, she was in the process of rescuing them when she was snapped out of her trance and dropped her oldest brother into the sea.

Jennifer is a Cornish form of the Welsh name Gwenhwyfar, which literally means "white phantom". Gwenhwyfar (better known nowadays as Guinevere) is also Arthur's wife in Arthurian legend. In the retelling by Chrétien de Troyes, she has an affair with Lancelot of the Lake. By the by, the first account of Arthur's life in Norman was written by a poet named Wace.

Daiyu ("black jade") is also a famous figure, namely in Chinese literature. A flower reincarnated as a girl to repay a debt of tears, Lin Daiyu is one of the main female protagonists of Dream of The Red Chamber (or The Story of the Stone), a Chinese literary classic which, according to most scholars, was never finished by its original author, Cao Xueqin. He is considered to have only written 80 of the 120 chapters of the first published edition. One of the plot lines involves a love triangle between Lin Daiyu, Jia Baoyu (the main character, "precious jade") and Xue Baochai ("jeweled hair pin"). In the 120-chapter version, Lin Daiyu, who was chronically ill, dies an early death at the time of Jia Baoyu and Xue Baochai's marriage. Jia Baoyu ends up becoming a monk. In 2016, the year in which The Running Grave takes place, an English-language opera adaptation of Dream of The Red Chamber came out. In this version, Lin Daiyu instead commits suicide by walking into a lake after the wedding.

Not sure if we're supposed to look further into it… But if we are, this could be hinting that:

Jennifer's ghost is responsible for Daiyu's death (oh wait, it's not this kind of story)

Mazu is like a "mother" to the members of the cult. (Considering that Jonathan Wace is known to members as "Papa J" I could see that being the case)

Before Jennifer's death, she, Mazu and Jonathan had a love triangle of their own?

#the running grave spoilers #cormoran strike

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wanderlinguachronicles · 9 months

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A Tapestry of Childhood: Nurturing Curiosity and Adventure

Hello, dear readers! 🌸 Today, I invite you to travel back in time with me as I unfold the chapters of my childhood. It's within those early years that the seeds of my passions were sown, shaping the person I am today. Join me as I paint a portrait of those days filled with wonder, exploration, and the magic of discovery.

A Linguistic Lullaby:

From the moment I could understand words, languages became my lullaby. Growing up in a family of linguists, my home resonated with the melodies of diverse tongues. My parents' conversations wove a tapestry of stories, effortlessly transitioning between languages like artists painting with a vibrant palette.

Puzzles and Enchanted Pages:

My days were often spent lost in puzzles and books. Puzzles were my gateway to understanding patterns – be it the intricate interplay of language sounds or the enigmatic allure of historical mysteries. And then there were books – doorways to countless worlds. Adventure tales, detective novels, and historical accounts became my companions.

Whispers of History:

With each story I read, my fascination with history deepened. The pages of my history books whispered tales of forgotten eras, distant lands, and remarkable individuals who shaped the world. I found solace in the past, drawing parallels between the adventures I read about and the stories my parents shared from their travels.

The Language of Play:

Playtime was a realm of its own. My siblings and I invented languages, crafted secret codes, and embarked on imaginary quests that took us to far-off realms. Each game was a microcosm of creativity, where language and imagination danced hand in hand.

A Glimpse of Formal Elegance:

Attending social events with my parents granted me a unique glimpse into the world of formal elegance. While other children may have balked at such occasions, I reveled in them. I observed the delicate art of conversation, learning to navigate diverse interactions with grace – a skill that would later become an invaluable asset.

Creating the Unseen:

Drawing and crafting were my way of creating the unseen. I brought fantastical worlds to life on paper – landscapes of castles, mythical creatures, and enchanted forests. In every stroke of color, I poured my dreams and inspirations, turning blank pages into portals to other dimensions.

A Wellspring of Inspiration:

As I reflect on those childhood days, I see them as a wellspring of inspiration. They were the foundation upon which my love for languages, history, and adventure was built. Each memory is a thread that weaves together the tapestry of my identity, reminding me that the curiosity and wonder of childhood are lifelong companions on my journey.

Thank you for joining me on this nostalgic voyage. Until next time, may your days be filled with the same curiosity and awe that color the canvas of our early years.

Warmly, Lada 🌟📚

#about me

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foldagerborg8 · 2 years

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.”

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf.

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels.

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons.

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be.

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

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

+ Childhood

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2K notes · View notes

troubatrain · 3 years

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before.

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind.

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I?

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone.

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.”

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

#why do these always end up so long urg #claude von reigen #fe3h #claude x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #feh #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem imagines #x reader #claude fire emblem #not sfw writing

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead.

They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

“Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

Jango doesn’t move.

He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

“Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

“Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

“Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed.

Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest.

The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

“Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

“Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

“Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

“He doesn’t know?”

“Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them.

The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance.

He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit.

There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport.

“I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them?

“I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

“Both. I want both.”

“Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

“And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

“What the Force showed you.”

“Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

“I’m too high for magic osik.”

They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

“Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

“You stole this?”

“Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

None, he knows.

“I acted without thinking, I—”

“It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

“Obi-Wan.”

Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

“Obi-Wan, can you look at me?”

He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

“Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice.

Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.”

“But isn’t letting go...”

His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

“Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

“... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams.

“But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

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knjsnoona · 3 years

Text

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy.

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed.

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again.

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet.

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing.

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son.

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications.

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood.

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch.

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up.

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair.

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety.

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away.

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features.

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation.

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big.

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead.

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. .

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you.

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you.

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging.

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye.

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward.

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer.

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side.

“What?” Jin called from the room over.

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.”

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy.

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings.

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice.

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout.

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso.

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.”

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should.

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs.

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood.

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh.

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass.

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy.

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them.

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching.

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length.

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer.

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers.

“No more,” you moan quietly.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted.

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment.

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.”

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now.

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench.

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious.

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you.

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.”

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip.

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you .

You whine, wanting more.

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach.

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace.

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion.

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips.

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down.

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.”

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace.

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back.

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion.

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to.

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire.

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.”

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds.

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure.

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub.

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him.

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm.

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms.

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,”

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings.

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily.

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in.

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.”

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town.

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself.

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out.

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable.

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt.

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart.

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?”

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing.

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion.

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare.

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible.

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.”

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face.

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another.

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?”

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick.

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload.

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake.

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin.

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down.

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head.

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water.

How in the hell was this herculean man real?

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above.

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink.

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face.

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer.

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts.

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan.

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly.

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time.

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line.

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin.

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically.

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon.

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him.

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting.

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!”

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent.

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh.

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up.

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place.

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy.

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake.

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest.

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills.

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort.

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more.

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom.

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization.

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you.

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment.

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

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