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exosmutfactory · 3 years

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Six Phases 006 Pt 6

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: I couldn't find a picture to match Baekhyun's appearance—so I chose one that fits his mood instead 2.0 😅 ♡

[ contains: angst ] Two’s a couple, Three’s a crowd 💔

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

My heels click rhythmically on the sidewalk, in perfect sync with the song I’m humming. I’ve taken a liking to listening to new music lately instead of sticking to the same old artists that I’ve heard a thousand times. Trying to expand my horizons and replace sob-inducing ballads with uplifting trap beats.

It’s going okay so far: moving on. Learning how to navigate the world while riding solo. It’s not like I haven’t done it before—sleepless nights aren’t new. Lack of appetite isn’t either. A breakup will never be the end of the world, no matter how excruciating it is. So why should I let it hold me back and define me?

Birds chirp merrily in the trees, bringing a smile to my face, especially when I catch sight of a little hummingbird enjoying nectar from a patch of flowers. If there’s one thing I can say that has helped me during this time, it’s nature. Simply looking out at the world from my apartment window and taking long walks around the more remote parts of this city have calmed my soul more than I can express with words.

I’m watching the squirrels scurry around on the other side of the street while waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, so much for a moment of tranquility.

I pull my phone out of my tiny jean pocket, furrowing my brows at the caller ID. Jongin…? That’s strange, has he ever called me before? I rack my brain for answers. Nope, this is the first time he is calling me. Flashbacks of our distant friendship since that one summer fight I had with a certain someone flashes through my mind... I press my phone to my ear before I can overthink it any longer. "Hello?"

"Riley." Jongin’s smooth voice filters over the line.

"Hi," I mumble, continuing down the street, noticing a beautiful blue and green butterfly flying by with a smile. The pitter patter of a water fountain in the distance has me falling back into my 'Zen’ mode. "What’s up? How are you?"

"I need a favor." He drops; straight to the point. Sending me right into a panic.

My phone nearly falls to the ground. "...You didn’t break a leg or something-"

"No, no," He immediately responds, recognizing the high pitch of hysteria in my voice. "It’s nothing bad."

Thank fuck, the last thing I need right now is bad news. It may be the end of March, but I’m not really feeling this 'Spring’ season. My mood shifts faster than the strong wind. The only stress I try to have nowadays are always work related because if I stop and think about my personal life for a moment I am fucked.

I take a deep breath, leaning my back against a light pole before replying to him. "Okay."

"There’s a dance competition in June," He slowly explains, "and I need a partner."

"Oh..." I blink a few times, straightening back up. "Huh… I’m sorry, I’m not really good at choosing candidates. I’m not a professional-"

"I mean you." He interjects, background music drifting over the line. "I want you to be my partner."

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at it in disbelief, "I'm sorry—What?"

"I have a routine already," His voice takes on a warmer tone, pure persuasion dripping from his honeyed words. "With your name all over it."

"...Eh??" I look off to the side, trying in vain to find something—anything to distract me from the tingles zapping down my spine at the sound of his voice. God… what the fuck? "Don’t you have like a million other people who specialize in-"

"I made the choreography for you."

My heart hammers in my chest. "And why the heck would you do that?" I demand, tightening my grip on the phone. Something out of the corner of my eye suddenly captures my attention, dragging my eyes over to it instantly. The sight that greets me has my throat going dry, gulping as my hands shake.

It’s Baekhyun—and he isn’t alone.

He’s accompanied by a tall, beautiful woman, the same height as him in her flat sandals. Her black hair reaches the middle of her back, contrasting against her light blue overalls and swaying softly in the cool wind. They lean against a brick wall next to a cute coffee shop with matching coffee cups in their hands.

Jongin’s words fade into background noise while I watch them. My vision blurs when she laughs, resting her hand on his arm. The way she easily initiates physical contact with him speaks volumes; this isn’t their first meeting. It’s been 2 months since January, and yet...

My heart constricts painfully in my chest, I suck in a deep breath. Lightheadedness hits me full force, I quickly cling onto the pole when my body sways off balance. Shit… I must have been holding my breath.

"Riley?" Jongin’s muffled voice drifts from my distant phone. Thankfully it fell onto the parking meteor next to me and not on the ground. "Riley!"

Burning a hole into the back of Baekhyun’s silver-haired head, I bring the phone back to my ear. "I’ll do it," I mumble lowly.

"I’m sorry?"

Staring at Baekhyun and his new friend, I make my decision. "I’ll be your partner."

•••

Okay… Maybe I was too hasty in agreeing to this whole dance competition thing. I should have waited to make a decision when I was in a better state of mind.

It’s been a good four weeks since I agreed to be Jongin’s partner—four weeks of pure hell.

If I had known what kind of dance moves were incorporated in this routine I never ever would have agreed. The choreography appears simple and subtle enough on the surface, especially thanks to Jongin’s gifted skills, but that’s the problem. It’s not simple; it’s a fucking ankle breaker. It’s pure well-organized insanity and I don’t know how much more of it that I can take.

"From the top," Jongin’s voice echoes in the dance studio. He presses a remote to start the song over again. I try to stay focused, ignoring the looming figures of the other hostile dancers in the room. Why they all gathered here to watch us practice today, I have no idea, but it isn’t helping me at all.

The bass booming from the stereo speakers vibrates the wood under my feet. Sweat permeates the air. Their predator-like stares break me down from the inside out. The memory of Baekhyun with that woman pops into my mind...

"5, 6, 7-"

Shit!

Gasps echo around the room when it happens: I collapse onto the floor, clutching onto my throbbing ankle.

"Riley?!" Something about the alarm in Jongin’s voice makes me wince, curling in on myself as everyone’s whispers float into the air.

"Oh my god, is she serious...?"

"See what I mean! She has two left feet. Why is he wasting his time on her?"

"Dumbass can’t even do a single number, let alone a simple choreography. The way he chose that over me…"

I try my best to reel in my emotions, to keep the hurt from being seen on my face, but there’s only so much I can bear—there’s only so much I can take.

Tears pelt down my face while their loud gasps and delighted giggles fill the air. I make a move to climb to my feet, ready to bolt out of here and never step foot in this place again when a gentle hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Riley." It’s Jongin, crouching down to meet my eye. "Are you okay?"

I can only shake my head, losing my breath as their taunting voices swirl around my head like a whirlpool, consuming me whole.

"Riley, stay with me." Jongin rests both his hands on my shoulders, directing my eyes to his whenever I look away. "Talk to me. What’s wrong?"

"I-I," I choke, covering my face in my hands before I sob pathetically on the hardwood floor. The throbbing of my backside and ankle only makes it worse.

"Ri-"

"Look at her! Pathetic at it’s finest."

Jongin stiffens, I don’t even need to see him to know that he’s gone rigid. His hand slips off my shoulder as I watch his silhouette rise from the spaces between my fingers, standing to his full height.

"Mind sharing with the class what you just said, Kim Nora?" He looks at the woman in the middle of the 5 dancers leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenching.

"I-"

"If you have something to say, say it."

"I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years. Years, Jongin!" She snaps, her shrill voice bouncing off of the walls. "I’m on time for every rehearsal. I practice until I bleed. Why does this no-name slut get to come in here and take it from me when she can’t even stand on her own two feet?!"

"Kim Nora." The way he says her name has everyone on edge. My back prickles in fear and secondhand embarrassment. He’s not even directing that stone cold tone at me and I’m hella uncomfortable sitting here.

"Who’s dance studio is this, Nora?"

"Yours-" She looks away, not brave enough to meet his eyes anymore. "-M-Mr. Kim..."

Jongin hums, holding his hands behind his back while pacing up and down the floor. "Who’s name is on the sign out front, everyone?"

"Yours, Mr. Kim." They chime in sync with meek voices. A look of regret painted on every single one of their faces.

"Mine." He concludes, satisfied before turning his dark eyes back onto Nora. "Let me explain something to you, Nora."

Her eyes stay focused on the floor.

"This is my practice, my building." He stops pacing, stretching his arms out to showcase the room. "You are under my roof." He looks dead at her, eyes colder than ice. "You are here because I let you. Do you understand that?"

"Y-yes, sir, but I-"

"Next time," He cuts her off, "You decide to be immature. Next time, you decide that your knowledge is anything close to my expertise." He steps closer, and I’ve never seen a person standing 3 feet away have such an impact on an individual. "Next time, you decide to mock one of my friends." He lowers his voice, and I can feel the heavy promise coming off him in waves. "You are gone. Do you understand me?"

Nora babbles something unintelligible, tears brimming her eyeliner caked eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes!" She sucks in a breath, snot clogging her nose as she directs her eyes back to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He steps away, turning on his heel before rushing back over to me. "Riley," His voice is softer now, much like the Jongin who helped rescue me from my birthday party 2 years ago.

"Hey..." I hush, lowering my hands to my lap.

"Are you okay?" He hands me a clean towel, his brows furrowed in worry. "How’s your ankle?"

"I-It’s fine."

He raises a brow, reaching out a hand to me. "May I?"

"Yeah." I sigh, noticing the familiar look of concern on his face.

Jongin takes my ankle into his hands, handling it carefully and pressing a few places. "Does it hurt?" His frown deepens when I wince. "And here?"

"Yeah," I nod, my face pinched up in pain.

"From 1 to 10," He continues, looking me dead in the eyes, "How much pain are you in?"

My lips part to answer, but I pause, biting the bullet and wiggling my ankle around to see how bad it actually is. "F-four out of ten." I grit out, still so sensitive that tears sting my eyes again.

"It’s sprained." He concludes, gently lowering it back to the floor.

"W-what does that mean?" I ask fearfully. Whatever it means, it doesn’t sound good with the contest 6 weeks away. Shit, why am I such a fuck up? What if I can’t perform let alone learn the choreography in time? I’m such a failure, I-

"It’s not bad," He reassures, resting a comforting hand on my arm. "A few days off of it and you should be good as new."

"R-really?"

Jongin nods, smiling softly. "Nothing a few days off can’t fix."

"Oh, thank you," I whisper in relief, wrapping my arms around his neck to mask the tears that escape my eyes. "Thank you, thank you."

"No," Jongin shakes his head, hugging me warmly, whispering just as quietly in my ear. "Thank you."

•••

After that day, none of the dancers have bothered me, let alone showed up to any more dance practices. Jongin made sure of that. No one fucked around with him either after the way he resolved the issue. An angry Jongin is a scary Jongin; that much I know now.

Sighing softly, I look up at the fluffy clouds overhead, trying to salvage the calm that washes over me in wake of April’s flourishing weather. The flowers are more alive than ever. Small animals and other critters run around for food on the ground. The world around me is the picture-perfect example of nature at its finest—so why is there an uneasy feeling weighing on my chest?

Work is going well and the book we had spent months and months preparing was released last week. I’m on my way to the nearest bookstore to grab a copy for myself. To check that no grammar related errors got past my keen eyes or because I genuinely enjoy the novel, who knows. I want to see the final product for myself and check out other releases. It’s about time I pick up another book besides the one I stayed up countless nights making sure everything was finalized.

A cute bell chimes when I step through the door, hit with the aroma of fresh coffee. Every time I go to a bookstore or library, it’s like I am stepping into another world. The shelves filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands of literature, all at the touch of your fingertips.

From ebooks to the dusty classics, I love them all. I may not read everything; I might be one of the pickiest readers out there, but I appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears that go into every completed book. Good or bad, the author has big balls for trying and putting their name out there. I have mad respect for that.

Venturing further into the shop, my eyes catch the Fantasy section with ease. I make my way over, already seeing a colorful display set out for the newest releases. The sight of the book I’m looking for brings a smile to my face. It feels different to see it in a store instead of reading the rough drafts in the comfort of my bed. Damn the graphic designers put their foot in the cover; it captures the personalities of the main characters perfectly. I couldn’t be more proud.

My smile widens the closer I get to the display, realizing that there is only one copy left of the book. Deserved; everyone from the author to the marketing team have done their best to make this book a big seller. Thankfully the universe left one just for me.

Just as my fingertips touch the edge of the paperback cover, someone else’s hand brushes against mine.

"Oh! Sorry-"

"Ah, I’m so sor-"

My heart plummets and my head snaps up to look at them at once. Puppy brown eyes that I could identify out of countless others and a million stars stare wide-eyed right back into mine.

Fuck.

"Riley?" He breathes, his handsome face painted in disbelief.

I can only wheeze, my chest throbbing as if my heart will explode.

Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck—

Before he can say another word, before I can crumble in front of his questioning orbs, I turn on my heel and sprint out of there like a bat out of hell.

I’ve been doing better, I’m slowly healing from it all, but the moment I see his face—his sweet, tired, kicked-puppy face, I fold quicker than an umbrella in an incoming hurricane. It hurts worse than the force of an 18-wheeler. My whole world full of its fragile edges and duct tape unravels under the weight.

Normally, I wouldn’t do this.

…

Okay scratch that—I used to do this. All the damn time, but with the way our lives have changed and that one conversation we had back in March 2 years ago I… I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him. I’ve made it my mission to avoid Sehun.

I know what he will say the minute I tell him what’s up: I told you so—the bane of my existence. That one phrase alone is enough to keep me from confessing so many things. I rather suffer in silence than hear that sentence, but… This is different.

No matter how much it pains me and paints me in shame, I need to tell my best friend what's been going on. After everything he has done for me since our childhood... I owe him that much. So here I am now.

I chew on my bottom lip and knock firmly on his apartment door, waiting for someone to answer with bated breath.

It opens a few minutes later, revealing his unmistakable tall form as he dries his hair. Sehun does a double take. "Shorty?" He breathes in disbelief, pausing in ruffling his messy black locks.

I laugh a little, warmth sparking in my aching heart from the nickname. "Yeah," I breathe, managing a wobbly smile, already feeling tears prickle my eyes. "That's me."

We stare at each other for a long moment, nothing but the distant swish of driving cars and the muffled conversations happening beyond the open balcony on his floor fills the silence. Ah… My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I shouldn’t have come here. He’s probably busy enough as it is-

As if reading my mind, Sehun’s gaze softens. He throws the towel around his neck before opening his arms. "Come here."

I bury myself in his chest without hesitation, soaking the fabric of his black t-shirt with my tears. "I’m sorry," I croak, holding back sobs.

"Hey, hey," a low, soothing voice chimes in, resting a hand on my arm. "What happened?"

"I don’t know," Sehun mumbles, rubbing my back as I shake in his arms. "But whoever did it will be missing an arm."

"N-No need, Hun," I sniffle with a shaky sigh, pulling away from his embrace. A chill covers my skin with goosebumps the moment I step away. It’s been like this all week; feeling hot to the touch, yet shaking like a leaf at the same time. I have no idea what is going on, and at this point… I don’t want to know. I can say that for a lot of things.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I turn around, smiling apologetically at the brown-haired man standing in the doorway. "I’m sorry for popping up out of the blue, Lu."

"Nonsense," Luhan shakes his head, his curly hair partially covering his worry-filled eyes. He takes my hand between his, "Come in, I’ll make us some tea."

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling into their apartment. I take the tissue box he offers me, following him into the spacious living room. He goes into the kitchen while I sit down on their couch, my breath hitching from the emotions budding in my chest.

Sehun closes the door, noisily walking on the wooden floor in his flip flops. He sits down next to me, questioning me with his unwavering stare, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I… I don’t know where to begin; I can’t even find the words. The squeal of the teapot in the other room fills the tense silence between us.

"Alright," He sighs, propping his foot up on the coffee table and resting his arm on his knee before giving me a hard look. "What did Byun do?"

I choke, snapping my eyes to his, "How do you know?"

"You never visit," He points out in the driest of tones. "And when you do, you always call first."

I can only lower my head, pulling my knees to my chest.

"You don’t usually cry after seeing my face either. I mean," He continues, nudging me with his elbow. "Am I ugly or something?"

I snort. "Shut up." Shaking my head, I sigh deeply. "I just… A lot has happened." Risking a peek at him, my shoulders relax at the worried furrow of his brows and the care in his sharp brown eyes.

He nods, smiling the softest that I’ve seen in a long time. "I got time."

I smile a little, my chest bursting in gratefulness for having a friend like him in my life. No matter what happens or what I get into, I can always count on Sehun to be there.

…

If only I didn’t have so much baggage to bring to his door.

"I…" Come on; I ball my hands into the fabric of my shirt. Say it.

Sehun keeps his eyes on me and I struggle more to get the words out, my chest starting to heave. Should I be here? Should I be doing this? What will he say? What if this just makes everything worse—

No.

Sehun is my best friend. We have shared so many memories together, the good and the bad. I was the first person he came out to. He was there when my father walked out of my life. I cheered him on as he climbed the ranks of his weight training team. He helped me catch fireflies in my backyard when all I could rely on was my poor eyesight.

It’s always been him and I against this cruel world. One man—one boy, won’t change that overnight.

"I broke up with Baekhyun."

"What?!" Sehun leaps off of the couch. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..." I drag out, looking him up and down in confusion. Panic hits me in the gut. "W-Why? What’s wrong-"

"Dude!" He exclaims, tangling his hands in his hair, the most comically distressed expression on his normally 'bitch’ face. "I thought he broke up with you."

The thought of what would have happened if Baekhyun had been the one to dump me makes my heart hurt so much I feel the color drain from my face.

"H-Hey," Sehun immediately takes notice, waving his hands around. "Not on the couch, anywhere but the couch-"

Luhan suddenly appears behind him with a tray of drinks, lovingly smacking the back of his head. "Here," He soothes, ignoring Sehun’s pelulant whines while setting down the tray on the coffee table and offering a mug to me.

"Thank you, Lu." I breathe, smiling when the scent of lemon and ginger hits my nose.

Luhan takes the seat on the other side of me, resting a comforting hand on my knee. "We’re here." He nods, sharing a look with Sehun before focusing back on me with the gentlest of eyes. "Whenever you are ready."

Gulping, I curl my fingers around my mug, the warmth of the tea and their soft eyes giving me the strength to open up.

I am finally able to put everything into words… I just hope we all make it out unscathed.

Closing my eyes, I start from the very beginning, updating them on what has happened since the year we started dating. The summer fight I never told Sehun about, Baekhyun’s ex Haneul following me around. The French lady at the photoshoot, the model behind the scenes. Our fight that reached the public. What went down at the Byun’s house… And finally… how I ran, and never looked back.

Sehun’s facial expressions shift from one extreme to the next throughout my confession. At one point I have to look away from him, stuttering the more I see the disappointment in his eyes. By the end of it, I’m mumbling to the lukewarm mug between my palms rather than them.

My words trail off into silence, nothing but the ticking of Luhan’s treasured grandfather clock making a sound. I’ve grown to hate this the most: the empty space that leaves room for my thoughts to sneak up on me again.

"You were hiding all of this..." Sehun speaks up, betrayal joining the disappointment in his eyes. "All this time."

A lump forms in my throat, "I-"

"You kept this to yourself for years." He grits out, his voice growing sadder by the minute. "Years, Riley."

"I’m sorry," I sob, curling up into a ball, choking on my tears. "I’m s-so sorry."

"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I-I didn’t wanna bother you," I babble, gasping so much for air I choke even more. "You’re busy with work and your own love life, who am I to bother you with my problems?" Tears blur my vision and stain my glasses, rolling uncomfortably down the bridge of my nose. "Isn’t that what growing up is about?" I whisper, staring lifelessly down at my untouched tea. "Learning how to depend on yourself?"

"Riley, I don’t care if you’re fucking 80." Sehun barks, scaring me until he opens his arms, forgiveness swirling in his softened brown eyes. "You can come to me for anything."

"O-Okay," I mumble, hiding in his chest.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I don’t care if you shave your relaxed hair, adopt a cat, or the world is on fire." He proclaims sternly. "No matter what, you can always come to me."

The comforting smell of fresh laundry on his clothes has my shoulders relaxing, my sobs quieting down to small hiccups. "Okay."

"Good. Now take these sweaters back."

His words take a few moments to register in my sluggish mind. "Huh?" I blink, lifting my head off of him, sitting up fully and immediately recognizing the bundle of clothes in Luhan’s hands. "No," I shake my head, ignoring how dizzy I suddenly feel. "Sehun, those are yours-"

"And I want you to have them."

"I-" My heart constricts in conflict, "But-"

"But nothing. You act like I don’t know that your ass gets cold." He mutters grumpily, crossing his arms. "Keep them, alright?" Being the observant guy that he is, he picks up on my weary glance at Luhan. "Lu chipped in some of his too."

"Mine are comfier," His boyfriend jokes, smiling cheekily.

"Yah."

"You know it’s the truth."

"Only because you—yah! Why are you crying now?!"

"I just…" I sniffle, laughing softly. "I love you guys."

Luhan’s smile brightens while I whine over Sehun messing up my hair. "We love you more."

•••

May passes by in the blink of an eye, mature plants welcoming the upcoming summer heat. I love and hate this for two reasons. One, it’s a certain someone-who-shall-not-be-named birth month. Two, the dance competition is two weeks away. Two weeks. It is literally May 20th and I am sweating my hair out over it.

Why did I agree to this forsaken competition again? Oh right—I decided that a two-step routine is the equivalent of a love triangle. Nice going, Riley.

I sigh, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. Two weeks until the competition means that my schedule is more packed. Yeah Park’s Publishing may be on an "easy going" break from publishing books right now, but I’m not getting a breather.

Nope, the moment I jokingly told Jongin how I didn’t know what to do with all my free time, he brought up daily dance practice—no, he down right demanded it. And when I started to complain:

"What? It’s not like you have anything else better to do."

I’ve been seething over that for a week.

Huffing at the memory, I plop my bag not-so-subtly on a chair before looking at Jongin on the other side of the room.

"Glaring at me won’t help you perfect the choreo faster-"

"Suck my dick."

"Oh, baby," He grins, raising a brow. "I would if I could." He saunters his way over to me, his beautiful bronze skin already glowing in a thin sheen of sweat when he leans down to face me, "but I don’t mind either way."

I push him away with a hard roll of my eyes, "Let’s get this over with."

"Feisty," He humors. "Someone is feeling better today."

"Better enough to kick your ass," I mutter, tying up my hair in a messy bun.

"Let’s rehearse the second verse," He takes a swing of his water bottle, a serious expression on his features. "Then we’ll talk."

"Bring it on," I lift my chin, playing tough despite the nervousness washing over me.

He nods, grabbing the stereo remote and getting into position. "Show me what you got."

We go over the steps one last time before we begin. The first half of the choreo goes smoothly… and then I stumble the moment the second chorus hits.

"Let’s take a break."

"No," I shake my head, resting my hands on my knees.

"Riley."

"One more time." I pant, trying to catch my breath. "I swear I got it, just-"

"We’ve been at it for 30 minutes."

"But-"

"Break. Now."

I flop to the floor in a tired heap, groaning loudly to annoy him. I’m grateful he called for a break though, my flat feet are crying for mercy like no one’s business. Maybe I should—"Ah," I sigh in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes," I mumble, throwing him a look over my shoulder, not liking his attitude. "My feet are dying over here."

Jongin raises a brow, leaning against the mirror on the other side of the room. "Your parents didn’t see a pediatrician about that?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Born and raised in America," I chirp. "The land of the free, Mother fucka."

Both his brows shoot up. "Are you feverous?"

"No," I mumble, fiddling with a loose string on my shirt. "It’s really hot out."

"Have you been sleeping?" His eyes narrow at my lack of response. "Riley?"

"Oh would you look at that, the ceiling tiles have a noticeable gap between them-"

"Sit down."

"I’m fine." I sigh, reluctantly dragging myself over to the only chair in the room.

"You won’t be if you keep this up." He points out, more than a little peeved. "Have you been drinking enough?"

"I-"

He thrusts his water bottle in front of me. "Drink this."

"But you drank from it!"

"I’ll give you mouth to mouth too if you don’t sit your ass down."

I blink, giving him a long, wide-eyed stare. "Why so serious?" The fed up expression on his face is enough of an answer. "Okay—okay! Fine." Inspecting the bottle for anything floating around on the bottom, I tilt my head back to pour some water in my mouth, mumbling with stuffed cheeks, "There, happy?"

Jongin just sighs, turning on a rotating fan. "Stay here. I don’t want you moving until you finish that bottle."

"Sir yes sir," I mutter, giving a little salute. Grinning when he glares sternly at me. He sighs before going back to the other side of the room.

Watching him practice his solo parts in the mirror, I leisurely sip from the bottle, noticing how his shirt sticks to his fit body. Jongin is tall, a bit broad, and lean. He has a dancer’s body and muscle in all the right places—I can’t imagine his diet. I shiver at the thought of it, checking my forehead. I’m not picky about fitness; I’m a bit on the curvy side myself. I rather have something to sink my fingers into. Speaking of which...

"Hey, Jongin?" I call him tentatively, continuing when he hums. "Why… Why did you make a choreo with me in mind?"

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and I wonder if he will until he goes over to retrieve something from his bag. "I always wanted to dance with you," He admits, throwing a towel around his neck. "To know what it was like to view your beauty up close." He bends his knee, bracing his foot against the wall as my eyes widen. "The way you move, twirl around, and glide across the floor. The blissed out expression on your face… You are at home on the dancefloor, and it shows." He looks up at me then. "You shine brighter than a million stars."

I forget how to breathe for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes and a racing heart.

"I’ve never been envious of Baekhyun but..." His sultry eyes meet mine again. "When it comes to you, it’s hard to fight my jealousy."

My lips part a few times, endless questions dying on the tip of my tongue. Realizing I’m gaping like a fish out of water, I settle for looking down with a hot blush.

Jongin chuckles, tossing his towel onto his bag. "Come on," He pushes off of the wall, walking over to me and taking me by the hand. "Let’s finish up for today."

"I can stand up on my own, you know?" I grumble. "...Thank you."

He just smiles before we take our positions in the middle of the room.

We take it from the top again, soaring through the routine without a hiccup. I put all my energy into not missing a step, dancing beside and around him with ease—

"Stop."

"What?" I blink, turning around to him. "What’s wrong now?"

"That."

"What?" I repeat, my eyes narrowing.

"That." He emphasises, gesturing to me. "You’re too tense. You need to relax."

"How do you expect me to relax, Jongin?" I mumble heatedly, hurt swelling inside of my chest. "I broke up with the love of my life. I had a shitty week. I can barely do the second verse of the choreo without breaking my ankles-"

"You can’t relax," He speaks up, suddenly standing in front of me. Staring into my eyes with his determined ones. "Because you don’t want to."

"I-"

"You fear what will happen if you do." He continues, holding me captive with his piercing gaze. "You fear the unknown."

"D-Don’t I have the right to...?" I hush, feeling my heart race the longer I look into his observant brown eyes. A part of me hates it; being read like an open book. My vulnerabilities and weak points on display without me wanting them to be. But this is Jongin.

He stares deep into my eyes, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. "Not on my watch."

There’s nothing to fear.

He selects a song for the stereo to play, and the moment a certain afrobeat instrumental plays through its speakers, I feel the urge to move my body deep in my soul.

"Let go," He encourages, turning around to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

Woman

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I’m intimidated by my reflection in the mirror. The sight of me with messy hair, dewy skin, baggy clothes, and my bare feet makes me feel like the wildest looking woman in the world… until I see the sadness and fear visible in my own eyes.

Let me be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

I can be your woman

Woman, woman, woman

Slowly, I move my hips to the beat, getting a feel for it while watching myself in the mirror. My awkward posture makes me tsk, shifting into a more flattering and stable position.

What you need?

She give tenfold, come here, papa, plant your seed

She can grow it from her womb, a family

Provide lovin' overlooked and unappreciated, you see (Yeah)

The lyrics… A sense of empowerment washes over me in waves, motivating the swirl of my hips and the smile forming on my lips. The melody of the song begins to seep into my very bones, warming me up from the inside out.

You can reciprocate

I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place

Just protect her and keep her safe

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say, "Boy"

Let me be your woman

Winding my waist feels like the most natural thing in the world, circling my wrists while bringing my hands back down to my sides. I can see Jongin’s proud smile from the corner of my eye.

My movements get more energetic as the chorus plays again, the repetitive lyrics flowing like the blood in my veins, felt deep in my very being. Hitting me on a level that very few things ever could.

I glide across the floor when the second verse begins, letting my hair loose and throwing my weight around. The soreness of my waist only makes me shimmer harder, fighting against the aches trying to hold me back—against the chains locked in my mind.

Princess or queen, tomboy or king (Yeah)

You've heard a lot, you've never seen (Nah)

Mother Earth, Mother Mary rise to the top

Divine feminine, I'm feminine (Why?)

Throwing my hands up, I smile as Jongin starts complimenting my movements, playing a smooth rhythmic cat and mouse game with him all over the dance studio. My bare feet on the wooden floor propels me forward, making me feel more connected with the Earth around me, with the woman I want to be.

I’ve caught up to him by the time the song ends, breathing heavily with giddiness pumping in my veins. For the first time in months, maybe even years, I feel like me again—I’ve found myself again.

A hand tucking hair behind my ear has my eyes snapping up to Jongin’s, the adoring expression in his chestnut brown eyes making me feel small and appreciated at the same time. He cradles my face in the palm of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek. Tingles erupt on my skin; my heart swells with something I haven’t felt in a long time when he starts to lean in.

"You were out fucking Jongin."

I flinch away, pressing my back to the wall, my heart in my throat. "I-I," I look away, hot embarrassment painting my face red. "I don’t want to make you a rebound." A thought occurs to me at that moment: how much taller and stronger Jongin is than me. The consequence of my actions. The vacant practice room. Fearing the worst, I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Nothing happens for a while, the silence dragging on for so long that I start to grow lightheaded, cursing myself for agreeing to all of this in the first place.

Are you happy?

I pause, thinking hard for a moment. Despite the rain cloud constantly hanging over my head, I am doing something that I love. Regardless of me looking like pure shit, Jongin sees a light in me. And against all the fucking odds, I… I feel liberated. I feel free.

With that, I open my eyes, staring fearlessly at the man in front of me.

To my surprise, Jongin smiles. "I don’t want to overstep my boundaries," He mumbles, resting his forehead on mine.

A smile breaks out on my face, putting my secret dimples on full display.

It’s finally D Day—the dance competition is just about to begin, and I can’t for the life of me find my bracelet.

"Do you really need that?" Jongin carefully ruffles his styled hair, squinting with one eye over at me.

"It’s for luck," I justify, searching both our bags.

"You depend on a silly little bracelet to give you luck?"

"My grandma made it for me," I snap, my blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Okay, okay—you," He gently takes me by the shoulders, directing me to his chair. "Sit. I’ll find it."

Finding that all-too-familiar 'no nonsense’ expression on his face, I sigh, carefully covering my eyes with my hand. Both of us got our makeup done for today. He’s got on a golden glimmer of eyeshadow to bring out the sultry brown of his eyes, and I’m rocking a burgundy shade that makes my eyes have their own sensual glare in the mirror.

Tucking my hair-sprayed hair behind my ear, I wince at the thought of washing it out later, but the end result is worth it. My brown hair is bone-straight, complementing Jongin’s lavender-gray, middle-parted hair. Not gonna lie, he’s a total eye-candy right now in that red jacket and mesh shirt, and his stage presence is to die for. His oozing confidence just pumps me up even more.

Watching him pull out my bracelet from some hidden department that I have never seen before in my life and come over to strap it onto my wrist with the gentlest touch has newfound hope blossoming in my heart. We came to perform and we came to perform well.

As if hearing my thoughts, Jongin looks up at me at that moment, nodding firmly.

I nod right back, smiling softly. Win or lose, we are going to give it our all.

We make our way out of the dressing room, listening for our cue from the staff member next to the gap leading out onto the stage. They give directions to someone in their headset before giving us the signal.

I can hear the crowd as we step onto the stage, vibrating the floor under us and my whole being with their excited cheers. Nerves aren't pumping furiously through my veins. No, pure adrenaline guides me forward, and the reassuring smile Jongin sends my way makes me at ease all the more.

When the lights dim and the music starts, my hands are already in my hair, my hips popping to the beat.

Just let it flow as it is for me.

As it moves, show me.

I slide down into a crouch, spreading my knees before rolling my neck to the beat. Quickly standing back up, I slowly run my hands through my hair, swaying my hips side to side. I stop moving to let the crowd focus on Jongin, watching him with a smile.

The party has been getting boring.

Jongin starts doing his own thing while I beckon him closer with a body roll, strutting to him on the other side of the stage. I strike a different pose along to the beat, rubbing my hands over my body and rolling my hips.

Don’t hide it anymore for me

Sliding my hand down my chest, we lock eyes before the chorus hits.

The reason that hides your heart

Do you feel it triggering me a bit?

Here comes the fun part; we sync up our dance moves. Shooting each other little smiles while staying on beat. My long hair sways in the wind; the feeling of being free—free to be me striking me with a sense of comfort in this moment. Jongin catches my eye as if he feels it as well, his killer smirk morphing into a heartwarming smile.

Baby don’t play with me

I slow down to sway my hips to the beat while Jongin slides behind me, pressing his firm chest to my back. The ripples of his abs brush against me through the fabric of his mesh-shirt, warming my sun-kissed skin under the light heat of the partially cloudy sky. His hand tucks under my chin when I face him for the next lyric, "You’re my VIP."

(She talkin’ about)

We sync up again for the next part of the choreography, making me giggle in delight, beaming over the fact that I might have cried a hundred times practicing this choreo but I can finally say that I can dance it without breaking my ankles. And the proud smile on Jongin’s face adds onto that fact.

He points out to the crowd and we change positions as the pre chorus starts again. Jongin acts like the cool, smooth man that he is while I roll my way back to him, matching his moves before blowing a kiss to the crowd when the chorus kicks back in again.

Top down ya

It could be you and me, it could be you and me

I place my hand on Jongin’s shoulder, strutting around him while he shrugs off his jacket. Preparing for the bridge that we changed last minute. Now it’s his time to shine.

Now let me give you what you want tonight

You told me

I take a step back, focusing on complimenting his movements while he has his moment to woo the crowd. Those charming smirks and attractive smiles can steal the heart of anyone, especially the cheering people standing in the front row. There’s a lot of things I’ve learned recently about Jongin, and his unmistakable stage presence is one of them.

The chorus comes back one final time and we go all out. Dancing until our feet ache and the wind picks up around us. The sweet smell of tteokbokki and summer breeze in the air brings another smile to my face. Jongin gets down on the floor while I kneel on one knee to straddle his lap, looking into his eyes with his finger tucked under my chin as the last lyrics of the song fades away.

There’s a long moment of silence, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Applauding so loud it overwhelms my sensitive ears. Jongin and I step forward to take one last bow, smiling at each other before making our way off stage… but a certain, persistent stare has my eyes flickering back to the crowd. The glimmer of silver hair in the front row is all I allow myself to see before hurrying to leave.

"That was," I start, gasping for breath by the time we reach the dressing room. "Fucking amazing!"

Jongin smiles, glancing over at me, "You liked it, huh?"

"Dude—I fucking lived for it!"

He laughs and it’s super cute, especially with his wide smile.

"That was so cool," I sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

Jongin raises a brow, a smile still on his plump lips. "Would you do it again?-"

"Hell no!" I squeak. "Well… Not unless it’s with you." His eyes dance under the painfully bright lights. "Stop smirking, I take it back."

"Don’t worry." He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans back against the vanity table. "You’ll be the first one I call next time too."

We’re called back up onto the stage before I can reply, but the smile I beam his way speaks volumes. However, nerves are plaguing my mind this time around. There’s no mistaking the silver hair that I saw in the crowd.

Just as I thought, when we are standing next to the other contestants, there he is. Front and center. I close my eyes with a deep sigh. What the fuck, man? Why are you everywhere?! Can I catch a break from him please? Please?!

Tension builds in my body, but then something cracks.

You know what—

I clench my fists. Fuck him. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or not; he’s no longer a part of my life. Why should I care?

My eyes don’t stray far from the judge and Jongin, even with the constant itch of Baekhyun’s stare. Take a picture, it’ll last longer, asshole.

The minutes seem to drag on as the judge gives his big speech, listing the criterias and rubric for calculating the winner. A whole lot of gibberish that I have no interest in listening to; I hope Jongin is paying attention. The knowing look he gives me when we briefly make eye contact confirms it. Yep, I smile sheepishly. Sorry.

That damn ticklish sensation on my skin still hasn’t moved while the couple in 3rd place steps forward to receive their reward. I swear to the heavens, Byun Baekhyun—

Snapping my neck around, I glare right at him despite my heart dropping at the sight.

He stands in the front row, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the crowd in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The only thing that makes him pop is his ever-silver hair… and the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

My heart races. Are those—

"And the winner is: Jongin and Riley!"

The crowd roars in excitement, everyone standing up to applaud us as the judge hands Jongin the trophy and a helper places a ribbon around my shoulders. I can’t help but beam at Jongin, both of us smiling wide enough for our mouths to hurt later, but I don’t worry about that now. This is our moment. I throw my arms around him, laughing loudly when he sets down the trophy to spin me around in the air.

"We did it!" I wrap my arm carefully around his neck, pumping my fist in the air.

Jongin sets me back down, keeping his arms loosely around my waist. "You," He plants a kiss on the top of my head, "did it."

I can’t erase the smile on my face or the glee in my heart even if I tried. My eyes glance back out at the crowd while he goes around congratulating the other contestants, immediately locking onto those soul-sucking, puppy brown eyes. Half a year later and his eyes never fail to make me feel nothing and everything all at once. But I won’t let that define me: I’m not Baekhyun’s woman anymore.

Spectators in the crowd around him are buzzing with energy, dancing to the outro music they are playing overhead while he continues to stand stock-still, his brown eyes focused on me.

My mind drifts for a second, imagining what it would have been like to be standing up on this stage with him, winning the competition with him by my side. I acknowledge it, let my mind have its little reminiscing moment—and then nip it right in the bud.

I don’t want to live a life of 'What ifs?’ anymore—I want to experience those 'Why nots?’ instead.

I sense Jongin before he steps closer, his chest brushing against the back of my arm. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, his lips grazing my ear.

I continue to lock eyes with Baekhyun, laughing inwardly at the unreadable expression on his face and the lack of a sparkle in his eyes. And when that tall raven from months ago runs to pull him into a hug, my gaze doesn’t waver from his in the slightest. "Yes." I turn my back on him and rest my hand on Jongin’s bicep with a swirl of my hips, peeking at him from under my eyelashes.

He smiles down at me, understanding dawning in his eyes. We link our arms together while walking backstage and out of the stadium.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1) P(2) | Part 6 P(1) P(2) —– P(3) P(4) —– P(5) P(6) ✓ ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1) P(2)

A/N: Team Jongin or Team Baekhyun? After that dance practice scene, my heart is stuck somewhere in between 💔

Hiya! Long time no see (^-^)

I don't have much to say ahh (>.<) my brain is fried. The emotions in this chapter came from a week of sleepless nights and a marathon of Doja Cat's Planet Her <3 I still got 10 scenes to finish up before Six Phases will be completed. This isn't the end! Just the best cliffhanger I could do with a 100+ page doc (thanks to my nearsightedness. font-size 16 is a lifesaver)

I might suddenly drop the Finale out of nowhere :'D everything depends on Riley~

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story!! 🥺🥰🌸💗 Writing this baby (haha) is my favorite thing to do and to share it with all of you means the world to me <333 Alright, I'll stop being mushy. Have a great weekend, lovelies! See you as soon as the Finale is done~

Happy two years of Un Village & city lights!!

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Thank you endless Baekhyunee for inspiring me. I wouldn't be here without you ❤️

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #bbh-net #baekhyun #Team J or Team B?#Six Phases

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roguerogerss · 4 years

Note

Hi I loved your Laurie story!!Could I request one?One maybe they meet through Amy when she is in Paris and they fall in love!!You don’t have too it is just an idea !!🥰🥰

that night in paris

pairing: laurie laurence x reader

w/c: 1.5k

warnings: i think there’s some swearing but i can’t be bothered to read over this again so??

(a/n: i’m so slow at writing i’m so sorry. i haven’t read over or edited this at all, but it’s cute ig. i’ve been loving writing about laurie lately, i feel like he just makes my writing so much better?? idk, anyways. if you enjoy, like and reblog pls! requests r open. ily guys <3)

————

From the moment that she’d first laid eyes on Laurie, she knew that he was someone who she could love. It had been like, her whole life, she'd been waiting for something to happen and never knowing what that something was, and everything had clicked into place when she realised that he was that something.

They'd met in Paris. Y/N was living there at the time and had become good friends with Amy March, a painter who was travelling and had ended up in the small apartment below Y/N's own. Amy told her that she'd stumbled across an old friend who would be coming for dinner and asked if Y/N would like to join them. Of course, she’d said yes.

"And who is this lovely lady?" She'd been grinning as soon as she walked into Amy's dining room, dress swishing behind her, eyes widened at the sight in front of her. When Amy said she'd met an old friend, she didn't mention that he was quite possibly the most strikingly beautiful man that Y/N had ever seen.

"This is Y/N. She's the lovely lady who lives upstairs." Amy smirked knowingly at Y/N while the boy eyed her with an admiration to his gaze. Big, shining emerald eyes looking her up and down, taking in every detail of her light blue dress, the way that her body looked in the tight corset that she wore, every tiny scar or freckle that adorned her face. She could tell that he was observing every little thing about her, and she suddenly felt exposed to him in all ways, like she was standing naked before his eyes.

"Laurie." Laurie. His name rolled beautifully off of his own tongue and she couldn't wait to get to say it for herself. "Theodore Laurence, but call me Laurie." He gripped her hand in his own and bowed his head to kiss her knuckles gently and with soft lips.

"Y/N L/N. Mon plaisir, Laurie." Laurie couldn't help the grin that crossed his face after hearing his name on her lips. He wasn't sure why her French accent surprised him, they were in France after all, but she spoke so beautifully that he wanted her to speak French to him all of the time.

"Le plaisir est tout à moi, ma chérie." He didn't speak much French, only what his father had taught him during their tutoring sessions, but he planned on using the little that he could to his advantage. Y/N could see that Amy was holding back a smile and she had the sudden and overwhelming urge to flip her off.

"Shall we eat?" She interrupted the obvious tension that was brewing. Laurie could've sworn that he'd seen Y/N roll her eyes at Amy and her smirking back as she sauntered to the kitchen to fix them all a plate.

It was a while before any of the three spoke again, only uttering the occasional, "Amy, this is brilliant!" or, "Would anyone like any more wine?". It was normal for them not to speak at meals, what with Amy and Laurie growing up in wealthy families who taught their children to be polite and to never eat with their mouths full, and Y/N going along with whatever Amy did because her family was never rich and she hadn't learned most of the usual etiquette from them.

"So, Y/N," Laurie broke the silence as he took a sip from the looming glass of red wine before him. "how did you and Amy meet?"

"We paint in the same orchard. Of course, I was there first-" Of course, Laurie had no idea that this statement was to start a feud between the two women sat in front of him.

"Okay, but being there first does not mean that it is your orchard!" Amy would've sounded as though she was being serious if the grin on her face hadn't given her away. Laurie smiled and watched on while Y/N laughed and Amy laughed and the pair jabbed fingers at eachother in mock accusation.

"Ladies, ladies!" Laurie held his wine glass high and clanged his fork against it as though he was about to make a speech at a traditional wedding. Y/N giggled and noticed how adorable he truly was, the youthful and childish grin spread across his face, hair mussed from having his hands run through it, under eyes creased from laughter. Laurie Laurence was a picture that could've and should've been painted. Maybe she could convince him to let her do just that if he would stay in Paris a while.

"The food was great, Amy." The night had passed them by in a blur and the red wine was getting to all of their heads, thoughts going hazy and sight blurry. Y/N wasn't sure why she was mentioning the food again. They'd finished eating hours ago and were getting ready to turn in for the night.

"I have something to confess." Amy's words were slurred and her head lulled back onto the headrest of the armchair she was slumped in. Laurie's arm was drunkenly slung around Y/N's neck, even in her state his touch made her feel warm inside and she was aware of just how close his face was to her neck and couldn't help but wish that he would kiss her there and on her face and her lips and everywhere else in between. "I actually do not have another bed. One for Laurie to sleep in."

Y/N couldn't remember thinking before she said, "He can stay with me! Definitely, he can stay with me.”

Time didn't quite seem to move as it should've for the rest of the time sat on Amy's sofa. Maybe it was the alcohol, the wine getting to their minds. Or maybe it was Amy's constant slurred conversation, or the fact that Laurie was so close and his lips tended to brush ever so slightly over her neck whenever he moved his head.

By the time that they were stumbling out of the door, Amy had already gone to bed and Laurie was half asleep with his arms around Y/N's waist and chin balanced on her shoulder from behind.

"We are not going to be able to get up the staircase like this, Laurie." Y/N chuckled. Her eyes were half-lidded as she lazily reached around to tangle her fingers in his hair and toy with it.

He sighed but obeyed, untangling himself from the French girl and tripping over his own feet. He snorted at his own actions as though what he'd done was the funniest thing in the world, and, at the time, maybe it was. "Hold my hand." Arm outstretched towards Y/N, making it hard for her to resist the urge to entwine their fingers together. And so, she didn't.

Laurie was supposed to sleep on the sofa, that was what had earlier been agreed. But, when they were back at Y/N's apartment they found themselves both laying in her bed, side by side, pinkie fingers and feet bumping. Neither of them slept for a while, neither of them spoke, instead, they were quiet as they enjoyed each other's company.

"I think you are beautiful." They must've been silent for at least an hour by the time Laurie finally spoke. The alcohol was beginning to wear off and Y/N could clearly understand what he meant without a foggy haze loosening her grasp on the words.

"I think you are beautiful too, Laurie."

That was the first time of many times that Laurie's lips would be moulded into her own. He didn't care about the consequences of the kiss, didn't bother to find out whether or not she felt the same. Maybe the wine hadn't worn off as much as he'd expected it had, because his mind wasn't able to quite keep up with his body.

He found that his arms had encircled her waist, that his fingers were travelling towards the hem of her silk nightdress, that she was trying to hold back the little groans that left her lips and settled between them in the nighttime air. This, Laurie was convinced, this was heaven.

That night in Paris had only been the beginning of something wonderful, something so exciting and beautiful. The next day, Y/N had taken him to the orchard and painted him like she told herself she would, laying on the grass, flowers of blue, purple, white, surrounding him. He’d laugh at things that she’d say and she wished to capture him like that, grinning, eyes bright and creasing.

The painting was hung in their home when they moved in, above the fireplace, on the grey stone bricks, there for all to see the beauty that Laurie Laurence truly carried, the beauty that she brought out in him.

#laurie laurence #laurie laurence x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #little women #little women fic #amy march #amy march x reader #little women x reader #rogue does little women #rogue writes

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bitchin-beskar · 3 years

Text

you’re safe in his arms

Rating: M

Warnings: Mentions of death, physical violence, more panic attacks. But also kisses.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: SO IM FEELING A LOT OF THINGS ABOUT THE FINALE. THIS IS ME ATTEMPTING TO FIX WHAT FILONI AND FAVREAU BROKE. ENJOY. (ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 EPISODE 16: THE RESCUE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

THIS IS A SEQUEL TO A PREVIOUS STORY, YOU CAN READ PART ONE HERE!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!!! I love hearing what you guys think!!!

“Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! What are we going to do?”

You watched in horror as Master Skywalker ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade glowing in the darkened room. You were hidden in one of the vents. You’d gone to the nursery to try and rescue some of the younglings from the blasters of the clones. When you’d seen Master Skywalker, you’d felt relief, hope, only for it to die a violent death as he began to slaughter the younglings right in front of your eyes.

You clasped a hand over your mouth, trying not to scream as he murdered the children one by one, each of them too young to defend themselves. When he struck down the last of them, he paused, and you held your breath as he turned towards the wall where you were hidden. His eyes were a violent, malevolent yellow, red-rimmed and angry as he seemed to pin you with his stare.

You were growing lightheaded from holding your breath, but you knew if you dared take a breath now it would be your last. He took a step forward, and–

“Wake up, prisoner!”

You jolted upright, scooting backwards until you were pressed tight into the corner of your cell, as far from the guards as you could get. You were panting, chest heaving as you tried to breathe through your lingering panic. There were two stormtroopers in front of you, blasters at the ready.

“Get up.”

You shakily tried to get to your feet, still off-balance from your vivid nightmare, and apparently you weren’t fast enough, because one of them marched forward and gripped your arm, yanking you to your feet roughly, jerking your shoulder and causing you to cry out.

“Shut up, prisoner,” one of the troopers sneered, the back of his hand snapping against the skin of your cheek, your head jerking sideways with the force of it. The other trooper jabbed you in the back with the barrel of his blaster, shoving you forward. “Move it. The Moff wants to see you.”

The walk through the corridors of the ship was silent, with the occasional muzzle being shoved into your back as you stumbled along. As you rounded a corner, you watched as Mando stumbled back out of a room, with Moff Gideon furiously attacking him with what looked to be a black lightsaber of all things. You stumbled to a halt, in shock.

“What the–”

You immediately turned, grabbing the blaster that was still pressed into the small of your back with your bound hands, using it as a club to bash one of the stormtroopers before flipping it around and shooting the other one. The one you bashed tried to get back up but you quickly shot him too, waiting to see if he’d get back up. He didn’t.

You turned again, just as Mando used his beskar spear to disarm the Moff, the saber flying towards you as he pointed the spear directly at the Moff’s throat. You dropped the blaster, catching the saber in your hands as Mando’s head jerked around to see you standing there, hands cuffed, eyes wide, with two dead troopers behind you.

“The kid’s in there,” he mutters, and you immediately dash for the door, needing to see Grogu with your own eyes. He’s perched on a small bunk, his tiny hands cuffed in front of him the same as yours. Tears fill your eyes as you fall to your knees in front of him, hands trembling. You’re afraid to reach for him, the last time he’d seen you, he’d been snatched from your arms, what if he thinks you let him go on purpose–

A soft coo reaches your ears, and you refocus to see Grogu with his little hands outstretched, just like every other time he’s asked to be held. There’s such love and trust in his eyes, it takes your breath away, and immediately you scoop him up into your arms as best you can with your hands still bound. Grogu clutches at the fabric of your shirt, burying his face into your neck with a soft sigh.

You press your lips firmly against his little head, thanking the Maker that he’s unharmed. You hear footsteps behind you, but you recognize the sound of Mando’s boots. He kneels next to you, and you turn your head towards him, tears finally falling.

He reaches out to cup the back of your neck, pressing his head to yours, the same way he did the last time you saw him. You can feel his fingers trembling on your neck, and his other hand comes up to rest on Grogu’s head, as though reassuring himself that you’re both here and alive.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he whispers, tugging gently at the cuffs encircling your wrists. You nod, watching as he works a small blade into the locking mechanism, the cuffs popping open only seconds later. He does the same for Grogu, and helps you stand. His hands encircle your arms, and for a moment he just stares at you, before slowly reaching up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as he wipes away your tears. His palm rests over where you’re sure you’re already developing a bruise, but you refuse to flinch.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging on your arm gently. “The others are on the bridge.”

***

You officially hate Moff Gideon.

It’s an odd realization to have, especially as you’re falling to your knees next to Mando, where he’s laying after taking multiple blaster hits trying to protect Grogu. The others on the bridge are taking care of Gideon, he’s not the one you’re worried about at the moment.

You help Mando sit up, even as Cara is smashing the butt of her rifle into Gideon’s jaw, knocking him down. Your hands flit nervously over Mando’s armour, trying to make sure he’s okay, that he wasn’t shot somewhere that’s only protected by thick layers of fabric.

His hands grasp yours, stopping your jerking movements. He slowly stands, helping you up as he does so. He bends to grab Grogu, handing him to you as he looks at the security holos. You watch as well, feeling an odd mix of emotions as you watch the figure fighting with a lightsaber. You know that Grogu needs a Jedi to train him, but you can’t help but feel sick at the idea of him being taken from you.

Mando orders the others to open the doors as you watch the Jedi take down the last of the Dark Troopers. None of them quite seem to understand, so he does it himself, and you move to stand just slightly behind him as the doors slide open, revealing a figure in a black cloak with a green lightsaber clutched in his grasp.

He sheathes his saber and slowly lifts back his hood, and your heart plummets. You know that face. There’s blood rushing in your ears, and all you can hear is the little youngling pleading “Master Skywalker there are too many of them! What are we going to do?” over and over in your head. You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until your vision is blocked by beskar as Mando moves in front of you. He crowds you back against one of the panels, filling your vision, his hands on your arms, fingers tightening when your breathing doesn’t slow.

You’re shaking your head before you hear what he’s saying, desperate whispered pleas already falling from your lips. “No, nonono, Grogu can’t go with him, please, you can’t make him go with that man, please Mando, no–”

Mando barks something over his shoulder, but you can’t recognize the words. You do realize that the others are leaving the bridge, but you’re still in fight or flight mode, poised and tense, ready to fight Mando if you have to in order to keep Grogu away from the Skywalkers.

The panic is overwhelming and the edges of your vision are starting to go dark when Mando manhandles you over to a chair, shoving you down into it and kneeling at your feet. His broad chest is cradled between your thighs, his hands gripping your waist, visor tilted up and trained on your face. You can feel his chest rumbling, and as your hearing slowly returns, you realize he’s speaking to you.

“Breathe mesh’la, just breathe, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re safe, just breathe, please.”

Grogu squirms in your lap, pressing his face into your stomach as he tries to calm you down too, his soft coos and whimpers muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

Mando must see as your breathing starts to slow, because he sighs in relief. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles on your sides, and he waits for you to speak, knowing that you’ve got to explain why you don’t want Grogu to go with the Jedi, the one you both have been searching for.

“I can’t trust him, Mando. I just can’t,” you whimper, voice breaking. “H–His father, he was a Jedi once too, b–but he changed, he fell, he became a Sith,” you whisper, as though you’re going to be attacked just for voicing the words. “His father slaughtered children, Mando, I can’t let Grogu go with him. He may be a Jedi now, but what if he falls too? I can’t give my son to that man, please, don’t make me do this.”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you clutch Grogu tighter, and for a moment, there’s only silence, like Mando’s trying to process your words. He finally speaks, and it's the question you’ve been dreading.

“How do you know?”

You close your eyes tightly, hanging your head. “Because I was there. I was a Jedi padawan. I watched as his father killed younglings in front of my eyes.”

Your voice is a whisper, and when Mando shifts in front of you, you flinch away, terrified of his reaction.

“You’re a Jedi?”

His voice is strained, and you let out a small sob. “I was training to be a Jedi when the Purges happened. An old friend told me to run and to never use the Force again, in order to stay alive. The first time I used the Force in over twenty years was when I was trying to get away from the Dark Troopers.” Your breath hitches, tears continuing to escape from beneath your closed eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

His hands leave your waist and you shrink back into your chair, head bowed as soft sobs wrack your frame. You’re curled up on yourself, terrified that Mando’s going to insist Grogu goes with Skywalker anyways, terrified that he’s going to hate you for keeping such a huge secret from him, when suddenly there are warm, soft, bare hands cradling your face.

“Cyar’ika, look at me. Please.”

You shake your head, eyes staying tightly shut, and Mando sighs. His voice sounds different, and you don’t know why, but before you can ponder on it, he repeats himself.

“Please, cyar’ika. Open your eyes.”

You slowly open your lids, but when you see what’s in front of you, your eyes fly open in shock. It’s Mando in front of you, but–

“Your helmet!”

Your gasp is loud, a hand flying over your mouth as your eyes slide shut again automatically. “Mando, your helmet, I’m not supposed to–”

“No.”

The single word stops you dead in your tracks.

“But I want you to look.”

You shake your head again, and this time, when Mando sighs, it sounds almost amused, if slightly exasperated.

“Cyar’ika, I had to remove my helmet in front of a room full of Imperials in order to find the two of you. I only have one regret.”

“What’s that?”

Your voice is a whisper, and when he speaks again, his voice is just as quiet. “My only regret is that my son and the one I love didn’t get to see me first.”

Well, that sure gets your eyes to open again.

You stare at the man in front of you in shock. He’s only removed the helmet, but it somehow makes all the difference. His hair is a dark brown, his eyes even darker. He has stubble on his cheeks, a little mustache, and his nose juts out just the tiniest bit. His lips are full and pink, and they look extremely soft. He’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible being in the galaxy, and you feel your cheeks heat under his intense gaze.

Grogu coos loudly, and you’re startled out of your exploration of Mando’s features as the tiny baby in your arms wriggles, trying to get to Mando. He holds his tiny arms out, and Mando leans forward, letting Grogu pat his cheeks, Mando’s eyes slide shut, soaking in the feeling of Grogu’s touch as he does so. You watch the two of them, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

When Mando finally looks back up at you, you’re sure you must be imagining the dark, heavy look in his eye as his gaze focuses on your lips. You bite the lower one self consciously, and immediately his thumb is there, brushing over the skin of your lip and pulling it from between your teeth.

“Can I kiss you, cyar’ika?”

His question is whispered, and your response is equally hushed.

“Yes.”

He leans up, at the same time as he guides your head down, and he presses his lips to yours. Eyes fluttering shut, you whimper as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue soothing over where you were gnawing at it. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, keeping you pressed against him as he kisses you thoroughly. You’re running out of air, but this is the one time you don’t mind, because if he didn’t keep kissing you, you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

His tongue darts into your mouth, gently brushing against your own, and you whimper quietly. For someone who’s been under a helmet their whole life, he’s surprisingly talented, although you don’t exactly have a lot of experience to compare it to.

When he pulls away, you moan quietly at the loss. “Mando–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Din. Call me Din.”

You open your eyes, staring straight into his as he gives you this intimate piece of him, this secret he carries close to his chest. You cup his cheek, and he leans into your touch, eyes soft as he watches you.

“Din.”

He sighs as you say his name, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your palm. You’re mesmerized by him, and you pray that if this is a dream, you never wake up.

“What did you say to me before, on Tython?”

It’s a question that’s been bugging you ever since, desperate to know what he whispered to you in his native tongue when he thought one or both of you was going to die.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen, your heart fluttering as he utters those three little words.

“I didn’t want to die without telling you, cyar’ika. But I do. I love you.”

You can’t resist anymore, and you lean forward to kiss him again. He lets you lead, groaning when you shyly press your tongue to the seam of his lips. He lets you in, and you fall even deeper in love with this man, this beautiful, breathtaking man, who would tear the galaxy apart to find you.

“Please, don’t give Grogu to that man, Din. I haven’t used the Force in years, but I don’t trust Skywalker. I’m willing to try and learn again, for him.” You look down at Grogu, who’s looking up at you with his big dark eyes, a sweet smile on his little face.

“I trust you more than I would ever trust anyone else, cyar’ika.”

You feel a soft fluttering sensation that you recognize as hope.

“He can stay with us?”

“He can stay.”

You fall forward, throwing one arm around Din’s shoulders as you hug him tightly, Grogu cradled between the two of you. As Din’s own arms come up to wrap around you, you sigh. You’re safe in his arms.

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#the mandalorian #SO THE FINALE KILLED ME #AND I REJECT THAT ENDING #SO HERE IT IS #I FIXED IT #IT'S HAPPY NOW #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #force sensitive!reader #grogu #moff gideon #asshole stormtroopers #reader fic #no use of y/n #there are spoilers #be warned.

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Note

I saw percy jackson au! one the troupe's list and i never tap the ask button this fast/no. Maybe a drabble where kyo and his team lost against gn reader on capture the flag because reader keeps distracting him when they're facing each other so reader's team can take the flag? (Let's say that kyo is the strongest opponent since he can wields sword better than anyone else 😂)

Also who do u think kyo's immortal parent is? I can picture him being an apollo's son since kyo always reminded me of the sun itself hshshs -✨

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x gn!reader

genre: fluff; pjo!au

word count: 1899

a/n: rip word count and the word drabble but here it is!! might do a pjo! au headcanon one day... this event really is no good for my soul... i hope you enjoy it!!

“Do you think we can win?”

It’s Tanjirou’s first Capture The Flag game, bless the sweet kid’s innocent soul, you think. Both of you are crouched behind a line of bushes near Zephyrus’ Creek together with the rest of your team - Blue, for this round - your weapons in hand as you wait for the scouts you’d sent out to return.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” You try to be positive, waving your hand vaguely. Tanjirou’s eyes are fixed on you, wide with curiosity. It’s only his first week here, so he hasn’t had a chance to meet most of the older campers that have been away on missions. Lucky for him that Sanemi is probably still somewhere out in the strait of Messina with Tomioka hunting Charybdis, you think. The poor kid would have been scared off in seconds. “There are some people who could probably change the tide, but most of those people are off doing solo missions away from Camp Half Blood, so our teams are pretty balanced at the moment-”

“He’s back!” You rise to your feet at the noise to see Zenitsu (a son of Zeus), one of the scouts your team had sent out earlier, splashing his way back across the river. “Rengoku is back in Camp Half Blood!”

All around you, a collective groan rises into the air, the Athena campers behind you grumbling about how their strategies are all messed up now and they need to regroup.

“Shot at me, the second I breathed in the flag’s direction. Missed me on purpose too, just to show off.” Grumbling when he finally reaches your team’s side of the river, Zenitsu gratefully accepts Tanjirou’s outstretched hand, the younger boy pulling him into the shelter of the bushes. “Guess we’ll be doing clean up duty for the whole of next week.”

“Now, now, Zenitsu, don’t give up so fast.” You nudge the younger boy in the side encouragingly. He’s sopping wet from his little swim in the river. “There’s still a chance! We still have Muichirou and Shinobu on our team, don’t we?”

Zenitsu lets out a whine. “But they’re not Rengoku.” He complains. The entire time, Tanjirou glances between the two of you, confused.

“Who’s Rengoku?”

“He’s head counselor for the Apollo cabin.” Zenitsu explains, wiping the river water off his lightning spear. “He’s one of the best fighters in the entire camp, on par with even the head counselor of the War God’s cabin, Shinazugawa Sanemi! Not to mention that he’s handsome and cool and half of the Aphrodite kids can’t help falling over themselves every time he walks by, asking him to teach them how to write love sonnets.” He gags at the words. "As if they aren't just waiting to take a piece out of him, the damn piranhas."

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh. “Well, he does write very good love poems,” you supply helpfully, and Zenitsu rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, of course you would know, since-”

“[last], we have a new plan!” Shinobu calls airily from behind you, interrupting Zenitsu. Turning around, you see the daughter of Hecate striding up to you with a smile on her face. It’s one that you’ve seen all too many times when she’s plotting something, and now that you’re on the receiving end of that smile, you’re not quite sure that you like it.

You squint at her suspiciously. “What is it?”

“You,” Shinobu answers with her usual smile, pausing for dramatic effect, “will be in charge of distracting Kyoujurou!”

You stare at her for a moment before you shake your head furiously. “No, no, no, there’s no way I’m doing that. I’d be shot full of arrows like a porcupine before I so much as touch the flag - I’d rather clean the Pegasus stalls for a week.”

“Oh, come on, have a little confidence in yourself!” Shinobu hums, the expression on her face practically radiating nefarious intent behind her sweet smile. “There’s no way he would hurt you, he’s your boyfriend, after all.”

To your side, you see Tanjirou’s mouth form a silent ‘o’ of realization, piecing together everything you and Zenitsu had been conversing about earlier. Flustered, you shake your head again.

“This isn’t going to work!” You insist, even as Shinobu tugs you to your feet and steers you in the direction of the river. “Shinobu, you know what Kyoujurou is like! He isn’t going to be distracted by me at all!”

“Oh, I know Rengoku very well,” Shinobu’s eyes curve into little crescents. “I think you’ll find yourself surprised, [last]. All you need to do is distract Rengoku, we’ll do the rest. Our entire team is counting on you!”

Helplessly, you turn to the two boys crouched behind the bushes. Zenitsu looks like he’s trying his best not to burst into laughter, and Tanjirou, the pure hearted boy, only gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

With a sigh, you turn around and march into the Red Team’s territory all alone.

It doesn’t take you long to reach the flag.

Although not quite as talented in direct combat as some of your fellow campers are, you’re skilled in your own ways as well, moving silently through the underbrush and disabling any traps that you’ve found - products of the Hephaestus cabin, no doubt. After narrowly avoiding springing a Greek fire trap, you manage to make your way to the location of the flag completely undetected.

Sidling up behind a tree, you glance around the trunk to observe the battle ground. And just as you do-

Thunk!

You barely dodge out of the way in time, a blur of gold embedding itself in the wood of the tree you’re taking cover behind. So Zenitsu was right - he really is back from his mission, and although the two of you are on opposing sides for this Capture The Flag match, you’re happy to know that he’s back safe and sound, uninjured enough to participate in this game.

“Is that you, darling?” He calls out, and you have to hold back your smile at the pet name. You haven’t seen him in a week, and hearing his voice after so long makes you want to just rush out to give him a hug. “I know it’s you, love.”

“It’s been a week since you’ve seen me last, and an arrow to the face is how you greet me?” You call out from behind the tree, slightly teasing. “I’m hurt, Kyo.”

“I knew you’d be able to dodge it.” Kyoujurou laughs. When you peer behind the tree again, you see your boyfriend standing there in his orange Camp Half Blood tee and jeans, leisurely nocking another arrow into his bow. “I won’t go easy on you if you attempt to steal the flag.”

“I’m not here for the flag,” you answer, and it’s only a half lie when you continue. “I’m here because I missed you.”

If you were even a little less observant, you would have missed the way Kyoujurou’s hands falter ever so slightly in the midst of nocking his arrow, before he covers it up with one of his usual booming laugh. “You’re not going to distract me like that!” He declares, and you stifle a quiet laugh of your own, your heart beating a little faster in your chest. “But,” his voice softens, “I missed you too, when I was away. One week felt like forever to me.”

Warmth touches your cheeks, but before you can smile too much, you smack your cheek lightly. Get it together, you scold yourself, you’re supposed to be distracting him, not the other way around!

With that, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You could never hope to beat Kyoujurou face on in combat, but you don’t have to - all you need to do is to distract him so that Shinobu can do... whatever she has planned.

You step out from behind the tree, and immediately Kyoujurou’s golden eyes lock onto you. You take the time to take in his handsome features, the warmth in his eyes, the fresh band-aid on his left cheek, did he get injured while on his mission?

“Changing strategy, love?” Kyoujurou calls out, looking amused. He tightens his grip on the bow when you take a single step forward. “Ah, ah, stay right there, or I’ll shoot.”

A frisson of excitement runs through you at the words, and you halt your steps, looking up at Kyoujurou with a smile. At this range, Kyoujurou has no chance of missing - you’ve seen him strike targets from yards away. “You won’t shoot me,” you hum, and with that, you take another step forward. True to Shinobu’s words, he lifts the bow, but makes no move to draw.

“I missed you very much, Kyoujurou. I did read all the poems you left for me, but it doesn’t feel as nice when it’s not your voice reading them to me.” You lower your voice to a soft, longing tone. It’s not hard, considering just how badly you’ve yearned to see him over the past week. “It just made me miss you even more.”

You see a tinge of pink touch Kyoujurou’s cheeks. “I’ll read them for you tonight, if you want.” Taking another step forward, you gesture at his cheek. “Did you get hurt on your mission?”

“No, I got it while shaving today morning. I was distracted because I was too excited about coming back.” Kyoujurou lets out a sheepish laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see some bushes rustle behind Kyoujurou.

“Well, you’re home now.” You’re almost within Kyoujurou’s reach now. If he decides to tackle you to the ground, you’d be out of the game even before you can so much as say ‘Zeus’. “With me.”

“Now!”

All of a sudden, a weighted net falls out of nowhere onto the both of you, and you’re sent falling by its weight. Before you can hit the ground, however, Kyoujurou wraps you securely in his arms, taking the brunt of the impact as you end up on his chest.

“Kyo!”

“Very well done, [last]!” Shinobu’s voice chirps from behind you, and you turn around to see Shinobu striding up to the both of you, the Mist melting off her. From beneath you, Kyoujurou laughs loudly, his chest shaking from amusement.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it, Kochou?” Kyoujurou shakes his head, a smile still on his lips. To the side, another figure slips out of the darkness, fingers wrapping around the flag Kyoujurou had been guarding before his entire body leaves the shadows.

“You just had to use [last] as a part of your plan.” Obanai says accusingly, jabbing his finger at Shinobu. The daughter of Hecate only shrugs innocently. “I had to watch all of that flirting, I don't think my eyes will ever recover. I'll need to wash them out with bleach,” he shudders in disgust. “I’m never going along with your plan again.”

“Now, now, there's no need to be such a drama queen." Shinobu tilts her head to the side, her smile still perfectly in place. "We won, so there’s no harm, is there? I’ll be sure to do the same for you when Kanroji returns from her exchange with Camp Jupiter.”

“You’ll do no such thing, you-”

With a shake of the head, you turn back to Kyoujurou, who’s still fighting to keep down his laughter. Gently, you let the pads of your fingers trace his face, his cheekbones, his defined jawline, before you tap at his lips, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he looks up at you.

“Welcome back, Kyo.” You whisper, and lean down to kiss him.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny kyojuro #kny

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 7

(Y/n)'s POV

The next few days I settle into a routine that feels almost normal if you don't count the fact that I am getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I take Ancient Greek with Annabeth, and we talk about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which is kind of weird. I discover that Annabeth is right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek isn't hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a few mornings, I can read a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something Percy and I are good at. Chiron tries to teach Percy archery, but the three of us find out pretty quickly that he isn't any good with a bow and arrow, but I find that I was pretty okay at it.

The only thing Percy and I excelled at is canoeing, and that isn't the kind of heroic skill people expect to see from the kids who had beaten the Minotaur.

I know the senior counselors are watching the two of us, trying to decide who our dad is, but they aren't having an easy time of it. Percy and I aren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I don't have Hepheastus's skill with metalwork or - gods forbid - Dionysus's with vine plants. Luke tells me and Percy one night that we might be children of Hermes, a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling that he is just trying to make us feel better. He didn't know what to make of us either.

One day, I am out by the canoe lake, just sitting on the dock, when I look over my shoulder to see Annabeth walking down the dock. She silently sits down beside me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Annabeth wonders and I gather my thoughts before speaking.

"What if I'm not good at anything? What happens if I never get claimed?" I look over, my sea-green eyes meeting Annabeth's stormy-gray eyes.

Annabeth's gaze is slightly sympathetic and when she answers, her response doesn't really make me feel better. "You'd stay in the Hermes cabin."

I nod before gazing down the calm water of the lake again.

. . .

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I have my first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathers in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We start with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

I can't feel a blade that feels right in my hands. Either they are too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tries his best to fix me up, but he agrees that none of the practice blades seem to work for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth and Chiron standing at the entrance of the arena.

We move to duel in pairs and Luke announces that he would be my partner, and Percy would have an older camper since it's our first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers tells me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

I face Luke, an uneasy expression on my face and he shoots me a reassuring smile.

3rd Person POV

Annabeth and Chiron watch (Y/n) and Luke's demonstration, and even Chiron is slightly interested as he watches (Y/n).

Luke thrusts his sword forward and (Y/n) instinctively sidesteps, and Luke, expecting to hit (Y/n)'s shield, stumbles forward.

Luke's eyes narrow and he presses her with more force.

(Y/n) steps forward and tries a thrust of her own and Luke deflects it easily.

The two's blades clash over and over again for a minute or so when the sword in (Y/n)'s hand grows heavy; the balance not quite right.

She tries the disarming maneuver that Luke had been talking about earlier.

(Y/n)'s blade hits the base of Luke's and she twists, putting her whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang!

Luke's sword rattles against the stone; (Y/n)'s blade is an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers are silent.

(Y/n) lowers her sword. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

For a moment, Luke is too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" his scarred face breaks into a grin. "By the gods, (Y/n), why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there is only a little bit of sparring before Luke hits the hilt of (Y/n)'s sword and sends it skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, someone in the audience says, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wipes the sweat off his brow, appraising (Y/n) with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he says. "But I wonder what (Y/n) could do with a balanced sword. . ."

. . .

Friday night, after dinner, there is a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it's time for capture the flag.

When the plates are cleared away, the conch horn sounds, and all the campers stand at their tables.

Campers yell and cheer as Annabeth and two of her siblings run into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It is about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies run in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a blood spear and a boar's head.

Percy turns to Luke and yells over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" (Y/n) asks curiously.

"Not always," he answers. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do - repaint the flag?" Percy asks.

He grins. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

Luke fives Percy a sly look, as if he knows something the other two don't. The scar on his face makes Luke look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams are announced. Athena had allied with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Percy'd seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters he wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammers his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announces. "You all know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spreads his hand and the tables are suddenly coated in metal equipment: helmets, bronze swords, speaks, oxhide shields covered in metal.

"Whoa!" Percy says. "We're supposed to use these?"

Luke looks at him as if he's crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here — Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol, (Y/n), you're with me, I want to see what you can do with that sword."

Luke hands (Y/n) a circular shield and she straps it onto her arm. She tests the weight of the shield and is satisfied with the fact that it's not too light or too heavy.

Annabeth yells, "Blue Team, forward!"

The Blue Team cheers and shakes their swords and follows her down the path to the south side of the woods. The Red Team yells taunts at them as they head off to the north.

Percy manages to catch up to Annabeth, (Y/n) at his heels, without Percy tripping over his heavy equipment.

"Hey," Percy says; Annabeth keeps marching. "So what's the plan?" he asks. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Annabeth's hand drifts towards her pocket, as if afraid he'd taken something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she tells Percy. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. (Y/n), come with me."

With a blink, the two girls had ran forward, leaving Percy in the dust. . . .

Once they're in positions, a conch horn blows, and (Y/n), who Annabeth had left with Luke, sneaks forward.

She moves forward a few yards and instinctively raises her shield against an Ares camper. (Y/n) thrusts her sword and the Ares camper sidesteps. Changing her momentum, (Y/n) does a spin, hitting the Ares camper in the stomach with her shield; the camper falls to the ground.

Feeling more confident in herself, (Y/n) slinks into the shadows, her shield and sword low as not to glow from any lights nearby.

(Y/n) makes it across the boundary into enemy territory and sneaks forward a few more yards until she hears Clarisse's voice, "Give him a haircut. Grab his hair."

(Y/n) changes direction, breaking into a run and then bursting from the line of trees.

The five Ares campers turn on her and three advance, Clarisse and another continuing to beat on Percy.

(Y/n) swings the flat of her sword and hits the first guy's head and he crumples to the ground.

Two other guys come at her and she slams her shield into one's face and uses her sword to shave off the horsehair plume on his helmet.

(Y/n) steps into the water and pulls her twin to his feet, feeling as though she'd eaten some of her mother's double espresso beans.

Clarisse and the fourth guy advance and the guy swing his sword, catching (Y/n)'s shield arm and leaving a huge cut, from her wrist to elbow.

Percy catches Clarisse's electric spear with the edge of his shield and sword and snaps it like a twig.

"Ah!" she yells. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacks her between the eyes with his sword-but and sends her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then the twins hear yelling, elated screams, and see Luke raising towards the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He is flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks get up and Clarisse mutters a dazed curse.

"A trick!" Clarisse screams. "It was a trick."

The Ares kids stagger after Luke, but it's too late. Everyone converges on the creek as Luke runs across into friendly territory. The Blue team explodes into cheers and the red banner shimmers and turns to silver. The boar and spear are replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven. Everyone on the Blue Team picks up Luke and starts carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron canters out from the woods and blows the conch horn.

(Y/n)'s POV

The game was over. We'd won.

Percy and I are about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, says, "Not bad, hero."

I look, an eyebrow quirked, but Annabeth isn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asks. The air shimmers, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy says, looking slightly angry. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugs, "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get my pulverized," Percy retorts.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to step in . . ." she shrugs. "You didn't need help."

Then she notices my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"It's a sword cut," I respond. "Where do you think it came from?"

"No. It was a sword cut," Annabeth says. "Look at it."

I look down. The blood is gone; where the huge cut had been, there is a long white scratch, and even that is fading. As I watch, it turns into a small scar and disappears.

"I - I don't get it," I stutter.

Annabeth is thinking hard. I can almost see the gears turning. She looks down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and says, "Step out of the water, (Y/n)."

"What -" I question.

"Just do it."

I step out of the creek and immediately feel bone tired. I almost fall over but Annabeth steadies me.

"Oh, Styx," she curses. "This is not god. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus . . ."

Before I can ask what she means, I hear a canine grows.

A howl rips through the forest.

The campers' cheering dies instantly. Chiron shots something in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth draws her sword.

There on the rocks, just above us is a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

And it's looking right at me.

Nobody moves except Annabeth, who yells, "(Y/n), run!"

She tries to step in front of me, but the hound is too fast. It leaps over her - an enormous shadow with teeth - and just as it hits me, as I stumble backward and feel its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor.

There is a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after another; from the hound's sprouts a cluster of arrows.

The monster falls dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I am alive. I don't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor and sway a little. My chest feels warm and wet, and I know I am badly cut. Another second and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of deli meat.

Chiron trots up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says softly. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron murmurs. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke comes over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yells, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summons it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron tells her.

We watch the body of the hellhound melts into the shadow, soaking into the ground as it disappears.

"You're wounded," Annabeth tells me. "Quick, (Y/n), get in the water."

I'm too tired to argue and I step back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I fell better; I fell the cuts on my chest closing up.

Some of the campers gasp.

"Look, I - I don't know why," I say, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry . . ."

But they aren't watching my wounds heal, they're staring up at something above mine and Percy's heads.

"(Y/n), Percy," Annabeth says, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I look up, the sign is already fading, but I can still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming.

A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmurs. "This is really not good."

All around me, campers start kneeling, even Ares cabin, though they don't look happy about it.

"Our father?" Percy asks, looking completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," says Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, Son, and Daughter of the Sea God."

Word Count: 2641 words

#female reader #reader insert #fem reader #percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

With Great Power...

Chapter 4: With great power comes a great need to stand up to bullies

Summary: Peter stands between Flash and a bully. Turns out, they can be friends after all.

Read on Ao3 HERE

------

“Yo Penis Parker!”

Peter groans.

“Where’d you get that sweater? The trash, probably. Seems like your thing.”

From beside him, MJ stiffens. Then without missing a beat, flips up her middle finger. Peter would give anything to tell Flash that the sweater used to belong to Tony Stark, that he gave it to Peter personally after a rough night on patrol because he was Spider-Man.

Yeah, that would shut him up.

Instead he shrugs. “The trash, Timbuktu- whatever floats your boat man.”

Unpleased by his response, Flash crosses his arms in a show of dramatic flair. They’re standing at their lockers, the lunch bell having just rung, and it’s more than obvious that the results from their calc test last period has put him in a bad mood. Well, worse than normal anyways.

And when Flash is in a bad mood, Peter ends up paying for it.

“MIT?” he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at Peter’s chest. “As if you’d ever have a chance at being accepted there.”

“Unlike you?” MJ digs. “I sat behind you in Calc, dumbass. Looks like you could spend less of your time being an annoying idiot and more time hiding your face behind a book.”

Flash falters. MJ had hit him where it hurts and it shows. He opens his mouth to retaliate but before he can he’s being lifted up by the collar of his shirt and slammed into his locker. Students gasp and back away from the altercation, though lots pull out their phones. After the initial shock Peter recognizes Flash’s attacker as Jake Miller. He’s twice as big as Flash and three times as mean.

“What the hell Flash!” Jake yells. “You said those answers were legit! My dad is going to murder me!”

“They were! I don’t- I don’t know what happened!”

“I was supposed to ace that stupid test. This is your fault!” With another low noise of anger Jake pulls Flash away from the locker only to throw him back into it. This time, harder. Flash’s soft gasp of fear passes through Peter’s chest like cold water.

Damn it. Of all people, why did it have to be Flash?

“Hey!” Peter yells, stepping closer. He feels MJ’s hand close around his wrist. “Come on. Leave him alone man.”

Jake’s shoulders tense. He throws Flash on the ground where he lays and covers his heads with his hands. But Jake’s attention is turned on Peter. He smiles wickedly. “And what are you going to do about it? Flash is gonna get what’s coming to him.”

Slipping from MJ’s strong grip, Peter advances further. Where the hell are all the teachers? “It’s not his fault you’re too stupid to take a calc test.”

“What the hell did you just say?”

Curling his hands into fists instinctively, Peter raises his chin. The whispers around them are growing louder. From behind Jake, he sees Flash staring at him with awe and holding his shoulder like it hurts.

“I said you’re an idiot Jake. An idiot, a cheat, and a bully-”

His spider sense warns him of the incoming punch and it takes every particle of his self control to not move. Jake’s knuckles hit him square in the nose and he can’t help but gasp at the sharp pain. He’s been hit in the face before, sure, but never without his mask.

A bone snaps. Stars blossom up behind his eyes and he stumbles back, feeling warm blood leak down over his lips. MJ tries to catch him and they both end up on the floor with Jake above them, staring at his fist in shock.

“Not cool man,” Peter groans.

Mr. Harrington appears then, finally, and pales significantly at the scene. It doesn’t take long for him to click the pieces into place. “Jake, with me. MJ, help Peter to the nurse’s office.”

Some students cheer as Jake is marched away. Others send Peter unsympathetic looks. He feels MJ’s hands tighten around his biceps. “You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve been through much worse-”

But when he stands a sudden rush of vertigo washes over him. He tips and almost falls, choking on his words, and two sets of hands reach to steady him. He expects the second to belong to Ned, but when he opens his eyes, it’s Flash.

“Parker!” he yelps, his cheeks flushed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He’s too shocked and dizzy to push him away. “He was being a jerk.”

“So was I!”

“He was going to pulverize you.”

“I could’ve taken it.”

At this, MJ snorts loudly. “No you couldn’t.”

Ned skids to a stop beside them, his eyes wide. “Peter! Are you okay man? What do you need?”

Feeling some relief at having Ned by his side, Peter nods towards the end of the hall. “Bathroom.”

“What?” Flash stutters. “He needs to go to the nurse-”

But Ned and MJ are already helping him down the hall, parting swarms of their gossiping classmates like the Red Sea. Reluctantly Flash follows them, and Peter can’t help but notice how fast his heart is beating.

He tries to catch the falling blood in his hands but there’s too much of it to really spare the mess. He’ll feel bad for it later, but right now all he can think of is getting it to stop.

When they reach the bathroom Peter eases himself down on the toilet seat as MJ starts unrolling wads of paper towel. He presses it to his face and whines at the pressure. “This sucks,” he decides.

Ned shoots Flash a dark glare, to which Flash swallows heavily.

“Lean forward,” MJ instructs. “And pinch your nose here. It should help stop the bleeding.”

Peter obeys, a pulsing headache starting up behind his eyes. There’s blood in his mouth and on Tony’s MIT sweater, which really is more disappointing than the injury itself. Because bones heal, but man is it hard to get blood out of fabric.

“It’s not slowing down,” Flash says, shifting from foot to foot. From worry or awkwardness, Peter isn’t sure.

“Why are you here?” Peter asks.

To this, Flash deflects, a usual defiance crossing over his face. “Why didn’t you go to the nurse?”

Peter, Ned, and MJ share a significant look. Peter sighs. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s absolute crap! There’s a literal puddle of blood underneath you right now! You’re acting like this is normal or something. As if you weren’t weird enough already-”

Ha, Peter thinks, if only you knew.

He would reply, expect he’s feeling increasing light headed. More blood falls against his tongue. Resisting the urge to spit it out, Peter lets it sit. He closes his eyes and feels Ned’s warm hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Mm? Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

They don’t just give him one. They give him ten. But even then the blood doesn’t slow. He urges his healing factor to kick in as he begins to seriously consider if Jake is human.

The blood at his feet grows. MJ and Flash start to argue. It makes his head spin. He almost misses the buzz of his phone in his pocket but manages to pull it out all the same, a smear of red appearing on his screen as he accepts the call.

“‘Lo?”

“Jesus, kid. What the hell is happening? I just got an alert from your watch that your blood pressure is dropping like crazy. Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

Eyes closing, he finds the energy to push out a humourless laugh. “Yep. At school. Don’ worry ‘bout me. Everything’s fine.”

“Then how do you explain your vitals?”

“Is that Mr. Stark?” Ned asks sharply, reaching for the device. Peter swats him away and nearly faints when it upsets his balance. Has his heart been beating this fast the whole time?

“Kid?”

In his weakness, Ned snatches the phone away and holds it up to his ear with determination. “Mr. Stark?”

Peter can still hear Tony’s responses, the worry in his voice increasing at Ned’s own apparent distress. “What’s going on Ned?”

“Peter got punched in the face. He broke his nose and is losing a lot of blood. I mean, a lot. Remember the Rhino? It’s like that. Way more than he should be.”

“Damn it. His healing isn’t doing anything about it?”

“Ned-” Peter moans.

“No. It just keeps getting worse-”

“Ned.”

“Christ. Okay, hang tight. I’ll be right there. Can you give the phone back to Peter?”

Peter grabs his phone back from Ned, narrowing his eyes as MJ switches out his paper towel. “Mr. Stark you don’t have to come-”

Flash stumbles where he stands. “What?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Tony snaps. He sounds angry, Peter thinks. “Look Pete. By what Ned says you’re losing a lot of blood. Try to stay awake until I get there okay?”

“It’s jus’ a nosebleed. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And remember- no passing out!”

Peter is halfway through objecting before he realizes Tony has hung up the call. Exhausted and hurting and embarrassed, Peter throws his phone at the sinks. Flash edges towards it and picks it up, wiping off the blood with his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Already Peter feels his anger ebbing. He sighs, leaning his aching head against the cool metal of the stall. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Of course he does,” MJ says while Ned nods in solemn agreement.

Flash looks nervous, a characteristic that is decidedly very un-Flashlike. “They’re right. I’ve been a dick. And you still saved me from getting flattened by Jake.”

“He had it coming.”

“Maybe. But I’m still sorry.”

A thick silence floods the bathroom, interrupted only by the sound of Peter’s steadily dripping nose. Looking more earnest, Flash wrings his hands together. “I’m sorry Peter. And not just for this. For- for everything.”

Peter.

He smiles even though it makes his head spin. White spots are gradually eating away at his vision but he elects to ignore them. “It’s cool, Flash. I promise.”

“How touching,” MJ says.

Another wave of dizziness passes over Peter so strongly that he can’t see straight. He feels three sets of hands hold him up as he struggles to breathe in air through his mouth, the blood he had been keeping in dribbling out onto the floor.

“Oh my God!”

Tony.

His mentor’s swimming image suddenly appears as Peter dares to crack open an eye. He looks disheveled but alert with worry, his hands replacing Peter’s own at the bottom of his nose. “I said no passing out, remember? I really can’t leave you alone for three seconds-”

For some reason, Tony’s presence has Peter feeling weak. Because it’s safe. It’s over. “I got blood on the sweater you gave me,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What? Kid, shut up.”

“I really liked it. I’ll still wear it. Promise.”

Over Tony’s shoulder Peter sees Flash with his hands in his hair, chest heaving with unbelief. Despite everything, the look of shock on his face makes Peter smile.

“How’d this happen?”

MJ and Ned both look at Flash. Peter tries to open his mouth before Tony can notice but it’s too late. He stares at Flash with suspicion. “Well?”

“Um. Uh-”

MJ sighs in annoyance, crossing her arms. “Peter took a punch for Flash.”

Tony doesn’t look surprised by this. If anything, his expression softens. “Of course he did.”

“Was nothin’,” Peter insists. He’s not sure if he feels like throwing up or fainting. Maybe both. “That guy had it comin’. Jus’ like that mugger las’ Friday-”

“Okay!” Tony interjects loudly, patting him on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to head out. Feel up to a trip upstate?”

Peter can’t nod. He uses his free hand to give Tony a bloody thumbs up.

“God, kid. You’re a disaster.” Tony helps him stand and grunts when Peter falls heavily against his side. “A bloody disaster. Literally.”

“He’s a hero.”

Everyone looks at Flash in surprise, another wave of awkward silence following his words. Flash blushes fiercely but looks straight at Peter regardless. It feels like an apology, like understanding. Something warm in Peter’s chest distracts him from the throbbing pain in his face.

“Thanks Flash,” he says, surprised that he means it.

Because maybe, just maybe, they could be friends after all.

#peter parker #flash thompson #mj #ned leeds #tony stark #broken bones #bullying #hurt peter parker #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #spider-man #mcu #protective tony stark #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure

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kurlyfrasier · 3 years

Text

Terrified: Part 7

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why.

Word Count: 2043

Warnings: Sadness

A/N: At this point I believe I’ve been sucked into a bitter black hole, never to return. @thebiggestnaturaldisaster I’m really need to stop saying this is the last chapter, because once again, there is more to come! @emeraldgirltmnt I SEE YOU and I THANK YOU. Thanks to you both, really :) I’m lovin’ the comments, likes, and reblogs! Your love is making me giddy!

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, cardboard boxes littered the ground, a few books scattered on the dresser, and familiar, dirty clothes were piled in a corner. Then I realized; I was in my own room. But how? I had fallen asleep next to Raph. On his bed. With him. I sat up in my bed, flipped the blankets off of myself and stumbled to the closed door. I turned the knob, but it didn’t budge. I pushed and pulled a few times before panic started to set in. Had the guys locked me in? But why? Did they really think I would jeopardize Raph’s health? Was he okay? Did something happen?

A few minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Thirty, as my panic slowly ebbed into fury. My short, quick breaths turned into deep heaves as it all clicked together.

Leo.

He must have carried me in here before they moved Raph into the lab and then locked me in! Like an animal! Something not worthy of trust!

I seethed, pacing back and forth until I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. I banged on the door, yelling for someone to let me out. It didn’t take long for the culprit himself to appear.

“Y/n.”

“Leo,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Let me out.”

“I can’t do that,” he almost sounded regretful about it. “You know I can’t.”

“I call bull! Tell me the truth,” I demanded. “Why can’t I go see Raph? I’ll go through all the precautions. I won’t even touch him if you say I can’t. I’ll do-”

“Raph will flip out the moment he lays eyes on you. That’s why,” he said low, like he was trying to stay calm. “He needs to rest and not be stressed in any way when he wakes and if he sees you- well, I’m certain he’ll go on a rampage.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I whimpered, barely keeping my tears at bay. “You me-mean he ha-hates m-me?” My knees buckled and I hit the unforgiving floor- hard, but I didn’t feel the jarring impact. I was numb to all pain by this point. The stress, the anxiety, the worry, the fear that Raph would never wake- It consumed me down to my soul.

“No! Shell no!” Leo banged on the door a few times, grabbing my attention as tears streamed silently down my cheeks. “Raph- he-he- ugh! He cares about you more than anything, that’s all-”

“He does?” I sniveled, unbelieving. I know Raph cared for my safety and did everything he could to keep me from being harmed, but caring about me more than his weights? His sais? His father and brothers? I doubted that. He could barely stand my presence except on movie nights for reasons I would never understand.

“Yeah. Of course he does, Y/n,” Leo cooed through the cold, metal door, cutting through my thoughts. “If he didn’t, then I wouldn’t have locked you in your room.”

“Well,” I dried my wet cheeks, sniffling. “I guess I have lost a little weight.”

“Yeah….” He was so quiet and sounded so unsure- so unlike himself- that I barely heard him through the door. “A little.”

I searched the room for my closet door mirror until I found it laying sideways between the wall and some boxes. I dragged it out, leaning it against the wall. The girl in the reflection barely looked like me. I lost weight, more than a little. Before, I had a few extra pounds. Enough that covered my bony joints and gave me some curves in the right places, along with a small pudge, cushy thighs, and arms that looked stronger than they really were. Now though, I could see those bony protrusions and my pudge was gone, leaving my stomach concave. My pants-held by a belt- swallowed my thighs and my once strong looking arms were sticks. I had become sickly pale, the bags under my eyes held truth to the fact that I hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Even my hair had become thin and brittle- mousy.

“Y/n?” I heard Leo call out, door still closed and locked.

I ignored him, now understanding why it would be bad if Raph saw me like this as I sunk onto bed. But I had wanted this, hadn’t I? To keep him from leaving my side. To keep him from going topside again. To keep him safe.

Still, I hoped it would be enough.

“Y/n?” Leo peeked his head in the door, looking concerned. “I’ll keep you updated on everything, okay? And-”

“Don’t tell him about- about-” I started, a little frantic and unsure of what I was trying to say. What, exactly, did I want to keep from Raph? Leo let me ruminate in silence. “Everything,” I breathed out, staring down at my skeletal hands in my lap.

“Everything?” He stepped into my room.

“Yeah,” I nodded, unwilling to meet his gaze. “About moving in, my job, my sleeping habits- everything.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure we don’t tell him anything. In the meantime, though, how about I get you something to eat?”

“Sure,” I mumbled, lying down. “You sure I have to stay locked in here?”

“Yeah,” regret tinged his tone once more. “I’m sorry. I don’t want Raph barging in when he’s first able to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three days since Raph woke up and he had yet to hear even a peep out of you. Donnie had expanded his and Mikey’s plastic quarantined room to cover half his lab. Enough so Raph could walk around a little now that his strength was coming back. Granted, he could only walk a few laps before his breathing got heavy, but every day a bit of his strength was coming back- at mutant speed- and he was more than thankful. If only a certain little lady would come to visit, then everything would be going perfect.

The first couple of days he thought maybe you were at work when he was awake or maybe his brothers hadn’t told you that you could visit yet. But it was close to the end of day three as he got up again to walk a few laps and you had yet to show. His patience was growing thin. It was like pulling teeth to get Mikey to even mention your name.

“Where is she?” He grumbled before glaring at his youngest brother across the room. Donnie had brought in one of his extra monitors and Mikey’s game system for entertainment. Raph got bored of it real fast, but that was okay with him because he needed to focus on getting his strength back so he could hunt you down- make sure you were unharmed and well. He had to see you with his own eyes. He was starting to think something had to be wrong or that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore with the way all his brothers were skirting around the subject.

“At least tell me she’s not injured,” he shouted at Mikey.

“Who?” He asked, acting dumb.

“You know who, Numbskull,” Raph marched in Mikey’s direction, growling. “Y/n.”

Raph noticed his brother flinch before he answered. “She’s fine, bro. Donnie’s just worried some kinda human bacteria mi-”

“I know what Donnie said!” Raph growled intimidatingly, grabbing his brother by the shell, forcing him to pay attention. “But the way ev’ryone’s been actin’ ya’d think she died or somethin’.”

“Look, Raph,” Mikey held his hands up in surrender, voice shaky with fear. “It’s not my fault, okay? I was told not to say anyth-”

“What are ya talkin’ about!” Raph roared in his face, the commotion had his other brothers slamming the lab door open.

“What’s going on?” Leo demanded, using the tone that his brothers knew not to deny.

Raph obliged all too willingly as he shoved his youngest brother away, knocking him off balance. “Mikey here says tha’ he’s not suppose’ ta be tellin’ me somethin’.”

“Oh,” eerie silence reigned over the room.

“It’s not cos of the bacteria thing, is it? That’s not why she hasn’ been ta visit,” Raph filled the silence, his voice confident.

“No,” Donnie replied in defeat. Raph saw Leo’s head snap to their brother, even through the thick plastic he knew all too well the daggers Donnie received.

“Tell me!” Raph boomed, wishing he had a table to flip over before continuing in his most menacing voice. “Or I’m gonna rip this plastic wall ta shreds and find her. Even if I have ta rip New York apart brick by brick.”

“I’ll tell you, Raph,” Leo was quick to acquiesce. “Just, please, don’t freak out.”

“I won’t freak out.”

“You say that now, but you haven’t see her-”

“Donnie!” Leo cut off his brother from saying more. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” Donnie mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“I’m waiting,” Raph stated impatiently.

“She doesn’t look like how you remember, brother.”

“Whaddya mean? Who hurt her? I’m gonna kill the-”

“Nobody hurt her, okay?” Leo extolled quickly and waited until Raph grunted in understanding. “Just listen until I’m done and don’t freak out.”

Another grunt. Leo sighed, wishing he had more time to get your weight back up, but you hadn’t been eating as much as he would have liked since the transplant. Barely anything at all, really. So, he was forced to break the promise he made to you that day and spilled everything. How you cried- inconsolable- when you heard the news of his injuries. That they had to pry you away from his side when they bathed him. How you didn’t sleep more than a few hours a night, if that. That you were barely eating and that each of them had caught you, at least once, retching the food back up. About your job, losing your apartment, moving into the lair- everything. His brothers stayed silent as Leo spoke, not once interrupting. It was unnerving, to say the least, to see Mikey, normally so full of life, curl in on himself, to see the faraway look in his eyes as he remembered it all.

Raph didn’t want to believe a word of anything his brother said, but the more he spoke, the more he knew Leo wouldn’t lie to him about someone he cared about. Especially when it came to you. His heart grew heavier with every passing word as his fists clenched tighter and tighter.

This was his fault. If only he had seen that stupid blade. Then you’d be happy. Then he would have already told you how he feels about you- that you’re his everything. That without you, life was dark and meaningless. Maybe you two would be together. Maybe you and him would be on a rooftop somewhere, looking out at the city lights after eating a midnight picnic he set up for a date. Maybe he would be holding you tight instead of being stuck in quarantine with his ugly mug of a brother.

“It’s like, without you, she didn’t wanna live,” Leo’s somber words cut through his self-deprecating thoughts as he finished the heart-wrenching tale. “She became this….empty shell. Void of any cares unless it came to you.”

“She-” Raph swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask. “She hasn’t hurt ‘erself, has she?”

“No,” Leo was quick to reassure. “We were getting worried she might, though. So we took precautions.”

“Good,” he grunted out, thankful his family kept you as safe as they could.

“She really cares about you, Raph,” Donnie spoke softly, reverently.

Those words filled him with hope. Even as Raph told himself you probably would’ve been the same way had any of them been in his place. But he wanted to believe that he was special. That he was the only one you would wither away for.

For now though, he would wait to see you. He needed to process everything Leo told him and be certain he could control his reaction when he first saw you again. He refused to lose it when he saw you again. Refused to lose control. He didn't want to scare you away before he had you in his arms.

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Part 8

#tmnt #raph #fanfic #tmnt fanfic #raph x reader #my writing #sad #hopeful #this is never gonna end #sucked into a black hole #leo #donnie #mikey #splinter #this has gotten way outta hand

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alia-turin · 3 years

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After me pooling you guys yesterday it was determined that now I need to post that Caranthir fic I have been writing for weeks now and I’m very much unsure about. By popular demand here it comes. It will be multichapter, it is actually mostly finished but it does need some polishing and final touches, I would try to post at least one chapter per week if not more. Not sure how many chapters will be overall, but I do promise some more Aen Elle action later. Thank you for reading. The fic is kind of a follow up on this story HERE but you don’t have to read it, things will make sense either way.

Fic Title: Somewhere in Time (Chapter 1) Fandom: The Witcher (Aen Elle) Pairing: Caranthir/F/OC Warning: Canon typical violence for this chapter AO3 Link

She could hear noises around that she was not familiar with. The forest had always been silent beside the songs of birds and the occasional animal passing by. Wind or rain, but not that. Footsteps, many of them.

Aine looked through the window, she could see shadows in the distance and hear muffled voices. It wasn’t too stranger for a hunter to find himself that deep in the woods, but it was not usual. Based on the number of voices and steps, that was not just one hunter. Then there was another sound she had not heard in the forest - horses running and dogs howling. She felt fear running through her body, she was alone and that had never scared her, although she had wondered what she would do if someone was to come and try and harm her. For five years that has not been something that never happened, nor she had reason to think it might actually happen. She ran to the door to make sure it was locked and that was when the screams started. Those were not animal screams, those were elven or human voices wrapped in fear. She stepped back from there as if being away would stop the horrible picture that was growing in her head and disappear, but that did not change, it just became louder and more violent.

She made another step backwards when something hit the door. It sounded as if a tree trunk was thrown against it. Another hit and she jumped, as it happened, on the third hit the door fell open. Her breath stuck in her throat when she saw what came through the door. What she assumed was a man was dressed in armor taller and larger than any elf or human she had seen.

“You are a pretty one.” he said as he walked toward her, she could not see his face as he was wearing a helmet but Aine could swear she could hear a chuckle even if whatever rational part of her brain was working told her that was not possible. She tried to run away, right through her table, but as soon as she turned her back on him he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her toward himself. She screamed, she tried to reach for his grip, but her nails painfully dug in his armor. He dragged her out of the house as if she was nothing, his grip pulling cruelly on her hair, her legs trying to keep her somewhat standing, but that failed. She was just a rag doll, she could feel her clothes tearing as they rubbed against dirt and stone, her skin started burning.

Caranthir dismounted his horse in the midst of the chaos. Humans were screaming around him, dogs howling and the smell of blood filled his head like a long needed drug. Part of him felt pity for the forest being disturbed by the sounds of violence, but it was going to be over soon. When they captured the escaped humans he could just open a portal to Tir na Lia and they will be done with that pitiful task. He looked around as their men were already lining the humans next to a small wooden house. Strange, he had not been that far in the woods recently, but a house here? It looked more like an old hunting lodge, a very small one, maybe that is why it was abandoned. It wasn’t too far from the nearest town, but it wasn’t close either. As he was musing over the place he saw Imlerith march from the entrance, dragging someone after himself. A woman, she couldn’t keep her balance, her legs and feet were just trying to keep up with the mountain of a man that was pulling her. At first Caranthir ignored it, that was not something that caught his attention anymore, Imlerith can do whatever. He was about to walk away, he didn’t need to see that, although he was going to hear about it no matter if he wanted or not. That woman better preyed for quick death as he was sure Imlerith won’t show an ounce of mercy. Then something caught his attention. Caranthir turned very slowly and just now noticed what Imlerith was dragging. The first thing he saw was the bundle of red hair in the man’s fist, a spark of green eyes with delicate features.

It couldn’t be. Memories rolled in his mind like an avalanche.

He rushed toward Imlerith, he was in fact running, but he realized that only after he reached the other man.

“Stop.” he placed a hand on Imlerith’s shoulder. He was sitting on top of her already, her body looked so small and fragile compared to him. “Stop!” he repeated louder and Imlerith did stop, he couldn’t see his face because of the helmet but he could imagine the annoyance. Foolish of Caranthir to stay between a beast and his prey.

“Want to join?” Imlerith tilted his head, the woman tried to push him off herself, silly girl, even Caranthir wasn’t sure if he would be able to move the other man if he was in her place.

Caranthir didn’t say a thing, he was struggling with his own confusion, she was nothing to him, just some girl that for a second brough painful memories to his mind, but he knew it wasn’t her, so why did he even bother what happened?

“We don’t have time for that.” Was the first thing that came to Caranthri’s mind. They had time for...everything they were not running on a schedule, that could take them days if they wanted to no one was going to tell them a thing.

“You want her for yourself.” Imlerith started laughing. He pushed himself up and stepped away. “Go on then.”

The girl saw her chance and tried to run, but Caranthir used his staff to trip her, she fell face down, and he pressed his foot on her lower back so she couldn’t escape. Imlerith walked away laughing as if he just witnessed a hilarious joke. It was a joke just not a very funny one.

“Please…” the woman pleaded as he moved his foot off and knelt next to her. He grabbed her face, his armoured hand gripping her jaw hard and forcing her to look at him.

He observed her carefully, hair was the same blood red color, but that was about where the similarities ended. Two very different women, not much in common between them, his mind was playing tricks on him, she was dead while the girl in his hand was very much alive. It wasn’t her obviously, but why was he so bothered? She was pretty, very pretty. Half human half elf, frame was smaller and shorter, more human, but even frozen with fear it had the Aen Elle grace. Her face was also just a mix of both races, still beautiful despite the tears and then there were the eyes. Once upon a time he had tried to figure out how exactly Avallac’h had made him. He read about so many genetic oddities, including the mismatching eye colors, a rarity, certainly just nature doing its thing in her case, unlike all the malformations on his body. Then he sensed something he had missed before. He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “You can use magic.” it wasn’t a question.. Her tears had stopped, but she still looked at him like a doe that was about to be devoured by wolves. “You should have defended yourself.”

She continued to look at him with these scared eyes and for a second time today he had to fight with his own mind. Part of him wanted to end her here, she was half human, humans should not be allowed anywhere near magic, they were too weak. But she was also Aen Elle. Even more importantly something in his chest was feeling so tight that it almost hurt physically. That was stupid. She was dead, that was just some random girl Imlerith dragged out of nowhere.

“Caranthir!” it was Imlerith shouting somewhere behind him, but he ignored him. He had to decide what to do. She wasn’t one of the humans they were hunting; he knew that, but he could not leave her here either. Half human, half elf with magic, that she probably didn’t know how to control, otherwise Imlerith would have had a very bad day. No, it was irresponsible to leave her here. Too dangerous.

“You will be coming with me.” as soon as he said that she tried to pull away from his grip but he was holding her jaw firm if she yanked any harder she was more likely to break it than run away from him. Caranthir released his grip for a second, but then moved his hand to her throat, her neck so small in his hold, he could probably break it with little effort. He got up, pulling her with himself, she choked, fighting for breath even if he did not think he was holding her too hard. She tried to say something but the words just didn’t come.

He started opening portals to Tir na Lia, as he watched her lose consciousness.

When she woke up she was lying on a cold stone. She wanted to believe everything that had happened was just a nightmare, but her surroundings hinted to the opposite. Aine lifted herself up slowly, her legs and back were burning from the way the stone and earth had scratched them. Standing all the way seemed like a difficult task but she did it. She was in a room, certainly not one she had ever seen before. There was a bed, table with a couple of chairs, a chest of drawers and a window to the far end. The space was almost as large as the log cabin where she lived. Floors and walls were solid stone and all the furniture was dark old wood. She walked slowly to the window, that should help her figure out where she was. Even that little walk, no more than 3 feet, was painful. Her knees have been badly bruised and every attempt to bend them was just jolts of pain and discomfort. Slowly she made her way and all she could do was stare. Tir na Lia, that was where she was, she knew the city, but she has never seen it from that point, that high up...she must be in the castle. Fear ran down her spine, why was she alive and why was she here…

That was when the door opened and Aine turned not sure she wanted to face whatever might come from there. A man walked in, taller than her, but that wasn’t really a surprise, being only half elf almost everyone was taller than her, even some humans. The elf started walking toward her and she pressed her back against the wall wishing she had more space to avoid him. It took him just a couple of steps to get to her and he grabbed her throat, painful from this morning, using his fingers to turn her head left and right as if observing a horse he was about to buy. She was terrified. Her heart was beating hundreds of kilometers per hour and she could barely breath and the reason was not his hand on her neck. His touch was almost gentle if anything in this situation could be gentle. Even from the weird angle her head was turned she could see his face. Pale hair and cold eyes, tattoos were crawling on his neck and disappearing under the furs of his cloak. Terrible scars were covering half of his face which despite the strands of hair over them she could see.

Caranthir looked at the marks his gauntlet had left around her throat, the skin already turning blue and purple. That was uncalled for, he could have been more careful. On the other hand why did he even bother about some half bred mutt? He should have broken her neck in the woods and ended it there. Instead he had taken her in Tir na Lia, for what? Because she reminded him of someone he had lost so many years ago that he could barely recall her face? But he did not need to remember the face, he remembered the feeling. Mostly the hate he felt when he lost her, the need to destroy and hurt, but when he saw this half-breed’s face something else made him stop. A feeling he had buried so deep in himself that he did not even know it existed anymore. A need he had convinced himself over so many years to be childish and unnecessary. He was imagining things, he was overthinking it.

“Please...let me go…” her voice came through broken, he couldn’t determine if it was the fear or the fact he had hurt her too bad this morning.

“Cannot let half human mage just roam around Tir na Lia.” his answer was not that much directed at her, he had no interest in her plea, it was mostly a thought he vocalized. That was too dangerous. But if that was dangerous, why was he unable to just kill her? All he had to do is snap her neck as he was holding her, push her through the window next to them, or any manner of magic that he could think about. No, not unable, he was more than able. Unwilling. His mind was conflicted for unknown reasons and all he could do was stare at her. The long red hair, complete mess from Imlerith dragging her in the woods, her face dirty but still beautiful and the mismatching eyes - green and brown. Somehow she also looked equally Aen Elle and human. When he tried to point to a future that was more human to convince himself that she is nothing but a cockroach that needs to be killed, he would find something that made her look as elven as he was.

“I’m not a mage…” there were no tears in her eyes but her voice sounded more like a cry than anything else.

Caranthir did not comment on that, he knew what he was feeling, magic is one of the things he knew better than anyone. She was either lying to him or she was not aware she had powers. But she had....she was not as old as he was, definitely much younger but an adult nonetheless. She should have felt something or done something that would make her experience the power she had no matter how weak it might be.

“Ever moved an object that you couldn’t reach but it somehow ended up in your hand?” she shook her head at the question. “Ever destroyed something just with thought in a fit of anger?” again shaking for no. “Ever had a dream that became true?” Again no.

He wasn’t wrong. That started bothering him and he could feel an obsession growing in him. He had to figure that out. He removed his hand from her throat and ran a finger through her cheek, wet with tears. She was beautiful. Not like her, it was a different sort of beauty, less...polished. Caranthir was hurting and felt excited at the same time, it had been years since something could provoke so many strong emotions in him.

“I will ask someone to bring you food and new clothes.” he stepped back just to see her frame visibly sink in relief. He knew he had that effect on people but somehow he felt a bit disappointed. He could have done worse, much worse.

#my writing #aen elle #caranthir ar feiniel #imlerith

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moprocrastinates · 4 years

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Sit By My Side, and Let the World Slip:

||| Chapter Three |||

Chapter Rating: T

Summary: If Jude had had her own way, her own wedding, it would’ve been different. Part II of the Best Friends AU.

(Read on A03!)

The most deplorable thing about weddings is, absolutely, the dresses.

Frankly, Jude could’ve done without the huge, poofy tulle, the puffed sleeves, and the stupid, ever-insufferable heels. She could’ve done without her hair pinched with hundreds, if not thousands, of pins, her cheeks pinched and layered with pink rouge, and thick kohl lining her eyes and sliding down into her tear ducts as the day goes on. She isn’t as dainty as Taryn, either, so the heels blister and knock her off balance; when Jude walks, she walks. Thunders, Cardan would tease. The Earth feels her footsteps as she moves; flowers bloom opposite the sun, just to hide from her shadow, creatures hear the stomp of her boots against the grass and scatter to their hidden homes, and the trees sing their own warning with the bustle of the breeze: Jude Duarte is coming. Stay out of her way.

But Taryn’s wedding is the product of Elfhame’s finest: sweet, dark wines served in glittering chalices, chocolate truffles dipped in jams and jellies, and fresh veggies and fruits piled so high atop a silver tray that Jude isn’t completely sure she can see the top. A silver walkway leads the way to the altar, and a beautiful arch, resplendent with blue and purple flowers covering every opening, stands proudly in the middle, awaiting the moment Taryn and Garrett say, “I do.”

If Jude had had her own way, her own wedding, it would’ve been different. For starters, her dress wouldn’t be white, perhaps a dark gray that sparkles when touched by the moonlight of the eve. It would be slim fitting, long enough to hide the bruises and scabs on her knees from her MMA classes but short enough for her to move in. She would dress as herself as much as she could (as much as Taryn would let her): comfortable boots, maybe, or a pair of dusty black Converse with ‘JUDE’ etched by Cardan in the soles. There wouldn’t be a need for the hairpins, or the bits and bobs that glittered now in Taryn’s hair, because if Jude were marrying someone, she’d marry them as she was, as open and herself as she wanted them to be with her.

Not that Taryn and Garrett weren’t marrying each other. They were.

It just seemed—well, too much, if Jude really had to put a word to it. Too glamorous, like they were covering something up.

But this is Taryn’s affair, gawdy and shiny and royal as it was. Jude doesn’t get to have an opinion.

“How many more pins?” She asks, pressing yet another pin into Taryn’s updo, the thing coiffed and polished and far too stiff for her own liking. “Vivi or Heather’s going to have to run to the store to grab more if I try to fit anymore in this... beehive.”

“Don’t rope me into this!” Vivi’s voice comes from across the room where she is fruitlessly trying to tie a Windsor knot around her neck. Her suit, a deep blue with black lapels, matches Jude’s own dress, another tulled monstrosity that sweeps out around her hips like a bell. The upper half is a corset (Jude curses the day Taryn chose these dresses—how the hell is she going to breathe?) immaculately and painstakingly detailed with a few fake diamonds. When she’d seen it on the mannequin, Jude thought it was the night sky personified.

Her own eyes, her twin’s eyes, stare back at her in the mirror. “I don’t know. Perhaps a few more?” Her sister brushes away an errant flyaway, the corners of her lips turning up in a half smile. Jude can’t help but smile back. “I want to make sure it doesn’t move if the wind blows.”

“That’s what you get for having an outdoor wedding,” Vivi says dryly, arching a brow. Jude hears her snort as she comes up behind them and eyes Taryn’s hairdo. “Taryn, if she puts any more pins in there, it’s going to look like the trees you’re going to be standing under.”

“Fine, fine!” Taryn huffs, her eyes rolling in tandem with her words. Her wave off is a smidgen patronizing, but she does manage to stand without falling over. Hands shaking, although Jude can’t tell if it was from nerves or from something else, Taryn brushes down her gown and looks at them both. “How do I look?”

“Like a princess.” Jude blurts out. Taryn really does, like in one of those fairytales, someone who marries their prince and lives happily ever after.

Vivi’s cat eyes flicker up Taryn’s gown and then back down again. “I guess if Garrett’s intention is to marry up, he’s doing pretty well.” She shrugs as a sly smile forms on her lips.

Taryn turns a beet red, coughing lightly, and brushes yet another hand down her dress, stopping this time on her abdomen.

In the last few years, given their rocky relationship, Jude hadn’t had much practice reading Taryn’s facial expressions. But now, the paleness and fear crawling up her face is unmistakable. “Taryn—” She starts.

“When does this shindig start?” A voice rises from the doorway. “If it’s going to be any longer, I’m going to start day drinking.”

All three turn to look at the mass of curly hair that appears around the corner, its owner’s face popping around just seconds behind. Jude can’t help that her eyes immediately seek out his own, or that they drift across his face, taking in every bit of him. Should she ever lose him, at least she’d have this memory. Cardan is like a marble statue, carved exquisitely, polished to a shine. How he walked down a street without every single person stopping and gawking at him, wondering if he’d deign to spare them a glance, Jude doesn’t know. Cardan’s jaw—oh, his jaw— is smooth as glass, and Jude can see how his long lashes lift from his face to stare at her. Half-lidded, his dark eyes meet hers only momentarily, flicking down to her dress, from the high heels to the tight bodice. When they find hers again, there is something there, something dark and deep and tinted with fear.

She thinks she might have seen him swallow. Hard. But—no.

Jude has no idea how much time passes in those moments, only knows that she can’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. The wind could’ve turned into a hurricane, blistering, violent, and devastating, and it wouldn’t have moved her. She wouldn’t have moved for anything. Cardan’s eyes root her to the spot.

But what’s in them scares her far more than anything she’s ever felt before.

“Cardan!” Taryn yelps, darting over to him and throwing her arms around him. Cardan’s face pales; his mouth drops open a little in surprise. He hugs her back tentatively, eyes wide as Taryn swings him a little with the force of her hug.

Help me, his eyes beg.

Jude smirks, and shakes her head. No way. It’s her day.

Behind her, Vivi snickers.

Taryn pulls away from Cardan, again smoothing her dress down and letting her hand stop ambiguously to her abdomen. “Guess I should go, eh?” She smiles at them, although it wobbles.

Jude steps forward. “Taryn—” She tries. Taryn meets her eyes, pausing.

Not now, her sister’s eyes say. So Jude nods, and watches as Vivi steps forward to link arms with Taryn.

“We’ll give you five minutes before we walk,” Vivi whispers to Jude, nudging her with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Remember—the bride goes last, Jude.”

Taryn’s lips curl in the tiniest of smiles. Her gaze flickers once to Jude, then Cardan, who had stepped forward to stand next to Jude. Then, with Vivi tugging her along, they disappear around the corner.

“So, uh,” Jude swallows. Her skin feels suddenly sticky, as if slathered with a thin sheen of honey. If the temperature of the room rose, she probably wouldn’t even notice. “Is everyone else ready to go?”

“Yes.” Cardan murmurs, eyes looking up to hers. “They’re all waiting.”

“Oh.” Fuck. She swallowed again. This is too much. “We should go; no use in keeping everyone waiti—” Her feet stumble towards the door, unused to the height of the heels.

I’m like a baby deer in these, Jude thinks just before the tip of the heel catches in a crack in the floor, and she falls forward—

—landing right into Cardan’s arms. He had moved quickly, silently, but catches her surely, long fingers wrapping around her wrists and holding her steady.

Jude looks up at him for what feels like the first time, held securely in his arms. For all of Cardan’s faults, he would never drop her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice is brusque, sharp, when it comes out. She hasn’t heard that tone from him in a while, not since they’d become friends.

“No, I haven’t.” She hears the slippery slope that is denial die on her tongue.

“Really? Are you certain? I seem to remember you taking one look at me this afternoon and bolting without even a hello.” Cardan furrows his brows, face darkening.

Jude remembers that. Cardan had been standing outside the venue when Jude arrived, looking absolutely dashing in his tuxedo. Crisp and pressed, it had lain against his body at all the right places, and it had taken damn near everything in Jude not to march up to him and smack a kiss to his lips.

Just as she had last night at the bachelor-bachelorette parties.

Which he had been so drunk during.

Which had caused him to smile at her goofily and her heart to nearly explode in her chest.

Which was why she kissed him.

A kiss he didn’t obviously remember. Because if he had, he would’ve said something, because Jude’s stubborn in a way he is not. She is not going to lose her best friend over something as trivial and stupid as her unrequited feelings, no, no. If she’s going to lose Cardan, it’s going to be for a significant reason, like they had fought over a way of writing or illustrating that didn’t fit their book, or that Cardan started dating Nicasia again, or, she doesn’t know, something else. Not something this bloody stupid. Not her damn feelings.

So she bolted.

Damn, she’s waited too long. Her words slide out of her mouth as she replies, “Taryn needed me,” which was true. A half lie, one of obfuscation and omission.

Cardan arches a brow. “Taryn walked in ten minutes after you.”

“That’s beside the point!” Her sputter is pitiful, and both of them know it.

She can’t look at him. Unlike Cardan’s, anyone can read anything on Jude’s face. (“Usually anger!” Vivi’s cheerful voice says in the back of her mind.) A stranger could take one look at her face right now and know the depths of her feelings for Cardan.

Well, except maybe Cardan himself, because if he loved her or even remotely reciprocated her feelings, surely he would’ve said something by now.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She’ll just have to keep her gaze on her shoes for the entire wedding, damned as they are.

“What did I do?” Cardan asks softly. The softness is something Jude wants to curl up in, cloak herself and surround herself with, but if Jude didn’t know him so well, she would have thought she had also heard heartbreak in his tone.

“Nothing.” With a jerk, she is out of his arms, putting one foot in front of the other as she tenuously stepped out the door. The hallway outside was clear of any people, and that was good—she could keep her head down and not bump into anyone. No one needs to hear this conversation. “It’s all me, this time.”

“What are you talking about?” Before she takes any more steps to the outside doors, Cardan strides in front of her, blocking her path. “You haven’t done anything to me.” He looks wild now, desperate in a way she’s never seen. His eyes might even be a little blurry if she squinted.

Jude opens her mouth. To rebuff him, she reminds herself. This friendship can only be preserved if she never admits to her feelings. And she can’t lose him. He’s her best friend. The only one she can even trust.

But Cardan’s eyes, deep and focused on her, are fierce with that... thing, that emotion she can’t quite place.

He’s begging me.

So she takes a breath. It is a deep one, full of lethargy, reluctance, and fear. Resignation, too, all wrapped into one.

Because he’s her best friend, because she loves him more than anything, she’ll tell him.

“I haven’t done anything to you yet,” Jude says. “But I will. Once I can’t hold it in any longer. You’ll not forgive me, and I’ll lose you.” She sighs and lets her shoulders drop, relaxes the instinctive fighting stance she’d found herself in. “I always knew I would, because everyone falls in love with Cardan Greenbriar. I’d hear the whispers about it when I first moved here, the outsider in this strange place, and they whispered it again when you and I became friends and I found myself always at your side. You always laughed when people asked you out, or smirked when someone flirted with you, and I knew then you didn't want that. Might never want it with anyone, because you were so content just to be yourself, and the only person I knew you'd dated was Nicasia, who I was nothing like. I swore to myself I wouldn’t fulfill the prophecy, because you’re my best friend and I couldn’t—can’t lose this, but here I am, all these years later.”

She feels rather than sees Cardan breathe, as close as he is to her, but Jude doesn’t dare look up. Brown eyes drift to his hands, clasped together so tightly and unmoving they look made of marble.

“I love you. That’s what I’m trying to say.” The words dance from her lips into the air, a gentle puff of air she feels she might want to snatch back.

“Jude…” A voice, almost ethereal in tone but firm in its volume, drifts to her. But she knows it, would know it anywhere.

It’s not Cardan’s voice.

She looks up, away, over Cardan’s shoulder to see Vivi standing there, resplendent in her suit and with a sad expression on her face. “It’s time to go,” Vivi says, the quietest Jude’s ever heard her. She looks a little devastated, too, much like how Jude feels.

Cardan hasn’t said anything.

Jude nods to herself once. Then again, jerkily. “Okay.” She glances up once at Cardan, whose mouth is half-open, face pale and impenetrable—well, she can’t really read his face. For once. Maybe she never has.

All she knows is that he doesn’t say anything as she follows her sister out to where Taryn waits to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t say anything after the wedding is over, or at the reception, or even the day after.

She feels his gaze on her nearly the entire time.

But he still doesn’t say anything.

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exosmutfactory · 4 years

Text

Apart (Part 2 to Fallen)

Part 1

word count: 3158 (how tf!?!?)

Baekhyun feels uneasy the second he’s back inside the house; the air seems to be ten times colder without the warmth of your smile and the soft laughter of your daughter filling the air.

His fingers mindlessly trace over the patches of fabric you lovingly stitched into his coat after all the times he carelessly snagged holes in it from yanking it off of the hanger. He knows it’s selfish. Not properly sending you on your way to mask his own hurt at seeing you and your daughter venturing off on your adventures without him. Your world-stopping smile, pregnancy glow, and the two sets of heart softening doe eyes looking up at him too much for his tired form to bear. Too much for him to deal with his guilt without falling apart in front of you.

He hates it — hates how hard it is to be around you lately. Always feeling as if he is stepping on eggshells in fear of stressing you out. Your soft smiles and sweeter words whispered to the precious symbol of your love growing inside of you brings tears to his eyes that he has to hide every time you gaze up at him from across the living room when he steps through the door. You mean the world to him and he’d do anything for you. No matter how many long hours he spends cooped up alone at the office, or sleepless nights from attending to your daughter when she cries for him in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t change a single part of your lives — except for last night.

His heart aches at the thought; fists clenched and bile rising in his throat. Remembering the deceitful men urging him to take more drinks, and the woman he practically had to shove off his lap.

♡♡

Baekhyun’s heart beat is pounding furiously in his ears, the only thing stopping him from going into a blind rage is the thought of you waiting up for him at home. With your pretty doe eyes and worry-melting smiles. Just your presence alone can calm him down.

He steps over the threshold without a word, hanging up his cream colored coat as he’s struck with the reminder that he is two hours late again. The underlying implications of that puts him in an even sour mood. He’s so stressed out lately that just the thought of anything more than a cup of coffee makes him feel sick to his stomach, and even more ill at the fact that you’re probably thinking he doesn’t enjoy your meals anymore. Meals that you usually store away for later, yet tonight you are—

“How was work?” Your voice is soft, always understanding in wake of his more often than not pleasant moods. His heart flutters as he quietly moves over to the coffee maker, mindful to carefully brush off his shoes before stepping onto the newly mopped floor. You turn away from him and he frowns, guilt budding in his chest as you distract yourself with the dishes. He knows how hard it is for you to have to take care of things around the house while having a bun in the oven.

“The merger bailed.” He mumbles, taking a few minutes to remember what you asked him.

“No.” You gasp, spinning to him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “Why? You’ve been working on this collab for months-”

“They wanted us to travel with them.” Anger once again fills his veins while recalling how disrespectfully those bastards spoke of you; a bitter smile forming on his lips. “Apparently a 7 months preganant wife doesn’t make the cut.” Fuckers. The lot of them.

“Y-You can go, I mean.” Your stuttering breaks him from his revengeful thoughts. Looking so small in his eyes with your hand over your adorable stomach and a plate of food balanced in your other hand. “I-I could let the baby spend the week at-”

What? “Where will they go?” Baekhyun panics. Why would you want your daughter to be away? Did he do something wrong? Are you—

The crashing of the plate to the floor startles him; hours of your hard work scattered like his barely contained emotions. “Where will they go?” He repeats softer, roughly carding his fingers through his ruffled hair. Did he startle you? He didn’t mean to. He’s just so—

Baekhyun raises a brow, swearing that he heard you say something in that cute way you like to utter things under your breath. His eyes widening at your state, hands outstretched to help you back up only to stop, a memory occurring to him. You screamed at him every time he attempted to help you pick up fallen food during the earlier months of your pregnancy. Proclaiming that you were ‘capable of doing it’ yourself while sternly pointing him towards the cupboard that you keep the cleaning supplies.

“I-I got work in the morning,” Baekhyun mumbles. The last thing he wants is to fight you. He doesn’t want to risk what regretful words he’d spew if he stays any longer; quickly going over to open the supply cupboard for you and setting the first-aid kit on the countertop just in case you accidentally prick yourself. He tentatively retrieves his coat from the rack, meekly uttering, “I’ll be at Chanyeol’s. Don’t wait up, okay?” While pulling the door closed behind him.

♡

Yeah, he’s still upset. Very upset. He’s been working on that stupid merger for 4 months. Hours upon hours spent worried over how he’s going to pay off student loans, provide for your growing family, and help your little stars through college. The weight of all the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he has resorted to shutting down and shoving his own feelings aside. He’s got a beautiful daughter, a beloved wife and another little one on the way. All of them are depending on him and he cannot under any circumstances afford to disappoint them. For what is the sun without it’s pretty planets circling around, leaning on it for stability and warmth? Nothing. But a big ball of pent up energy marching on its own journey to collapsing upon itself.

Suddenly, the sky is covered with dark clouds; the bottom dropping out from under the fluffy accumulations of rain. It’s pouring out; the heavy droplets pelting down on the roof remind him of all the times he went out his way to go pick you up in the middle of storms such as this one. Because it’s not safe for you to be driving out in the rain — driving out in the rain.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, ripping a new hole in his coat as he rushes to put it back on, throwing the front door open with half the mind to lock it behind him because you always chastise him over leaving the house vulnerable — but right now you’re fucking vulnerable!

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters, yanking the door to his black Audi open just as the squealing of car tires in the distance reaches his ears.

Baekhyun freezes, grip tight on the doorframe and hair matted to his forehead. Because just up the road is a car accident with what he swears is your car and it doesn’t look pretty.

“Oh my god.” A neighbor gasps, her leashed puppy cradled in her frozen grasp.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop to think; he fucking runs.

An ambulance is already weaving through the crowd as idiomatic bystanders block their way to the flipped over white Honda surrounded by broken glass on the sidewalk. The shrill screams of a frightened child — his child! — has him pushing his way through the crowd. Scrambling to the driver’s side of the car.

He wrenches the dented back car door open, tentatively brushing glass away from her tear streaked cheeks. Thanking every higher being that she only has small scratches on her little face. He scoops her out of the ruined carseat and cradles her to his chest, trying to soothe her as paramedics rush over to pull you from the car. Fuck. You —

Baekhyun’s head snaps up, wordlessly hurrying over to them on quick feet while they pull your unconscious form from under layers of broken metal and glass. A glance alone shows that you weren’t so lucky to leave the accident with only a few scratches on your face. No, there’s large pieces of glass distorting your delicate skin and a waterfall of red washing away in the rain.

Baekhyun barely hears a word that the person next to him is saying, only catching the phrases “child” and “hospital” before snapping out of his trace. “W-Wait!” He walks as fast as he can with your shaking daughter in his arms, “I’m the husband, I—” He chokes, eyes stinging with the realization of what is unfolding in front of him. Your limp body being lifted into the back of the ambulance. “I’m her husband.”

The paramedics usher him inside, offering a seat and asking to check up on the trembling toddler in his arms.

“How far along is she?” One of them asks, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck.

“7 m-months.” His voice comes out hoarse, a lump forming in his throat as he watches her slide it over your stomach. The lack of reaction from the little life inside of you makes more tears pool in the corners of his eyes. “I-Is the baby okay?”

She only gives him a solemn look, uttering some type of medical code to one of the other paramedics jotting down notes on a clipboard. “We’re almost at the hospital. Can I take a look at her?”

Baekhyun blinks through his blurry vision, reluctantly handing the small girl in his arms over to her. He shivers, just now feeling the coldness of his soaked clothes; swiping his drenched hair out of his eyes while graciously taking the thick blanket offered to him.

You couldn’t arrive at the hospital fast enough for him. He doesn’t know how much longer his heart can take seeing you like this — like a shattered irreplaceable vase missing the pieces to put it back together. Lifeless. Never to be the same again.

He barely registers the commotion as the paramedics roll you out of the ambulance and through the lobby, only stopping when a nurse holds him back from following you down the hall. “I’m sorry, Sir. You can’t go back there.”

“I—”

She swiftly shakes her head, standing her ground as he feels as if his whole world — his whole life is being flipped upside down. Less than an hour ago, your glowing figure was smiling up at him. Less than an hour ago, he thought that nothing else could get worse than the stress he faces every day. Yet here he is now, helplessly watching you and your daughter get taken further into the hospital — farther away from him. The man who vowed to be with you; in sickness and in health. In times of hardships and your greatest accomplishments. The same man who swore that no matter what came your way, you would face everything together—

Together…

Baekhyun plops himself down in an uncomfortable plastic chair; his head hanging low. How could he have forgotten such a thing? All the promises of sticking by your side through everything and anything. Of trust, leaning on each other — communication! When’s the last time he told you about his tiring days at work just to end up smiling by the end of the night while held in your loving arms? Or heard you complain about your feet hurting only for you to giggle soon afterward when he accidentally tickles you with his diligent massage? Or dared to reach across the body-shaped pillow that has taken up space in your bed to pull you to his chest. Did he really let himself get carried away by his own self doubts and fears?

Baekhyun’s breath hitches, his heart stopping in its tracks. Did he seriously hide himself away thinking the pain of being unable to reach him wouldn’t hurt you? Wouldn’t make you… You want to leave him?

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Surrounded by the endless amounts of people being rolled in the never-ending stream of patients in the hosiptal. It seems as if everyone has gotten into bad accidents today, but no amount of blood and body disfigurement can erase the horrific image of your helpless child — of your lifeless form being carried out of that battered car.

“Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun’s head shoots up to the light blue and white dressed man in front of him. “T-That’s me,” He croaks, throat hurting from holding back tears while hurrying to stand up.

“I’m Dr. Kim,” The man holds out his hand, introducing himself — uselessly, Baekhyun thinks.

“H-How are they?” He manages between shaky breaths, five seconds away from crumbling into a heap on the porcelain white floor.

“Your daughter and son are okay.” The doctor states calmly, flipping through papers on his clipboard.

Baekhyun breathes a small sigh of relief, heart calming down a little. “And my wife?” His tone hopeful; eyes pleading. The uncertain expression on the doctor’s face enough to knock the wind out of him, “Follow me.”

He trails after the man; right on his heels, gulping down the panic steadily rising in his chest as they turn the corner at the end of the long hallway. The doctor opens the door, wordlessly stepping aside to let him enter the crowded room. At least three nurses are stationed in the room. One fussing over a small bundle in their arms and another with his daughter outstretching her arms towards the bed on the right side of the room. The sight of you nearly sends him falling to his knees.

“Your son is 5 pounds,” The brunette softly says over the loud cries of your daughter. “He has to spend a few days in the NICU until we—”

“Give her here.” He demands, arms held out to take his daughter away from the blonde nurse struggling to hold her squirming form. She’s quick to hand the child over, watching enviously as the little girl settles in her father’s arms, loud wails simmering down into quiet whimpers.

Baekhyun slowly makes his way over to the bed, carefully lowering her down between the spaces free from all the tubes attached to your pale form. She wraps her arms around your bandaged arm, doe eyes still brimming with tears. He hates the panicked confusion swirling in her shiny orbs. Hates how lifeless you look against the standardized hospital sheets and the gauze wrapped around your head.

“She lost a lot of blood.” The doctor tentatively notes, dismissing the nurses from the room. The brunette sets the baby down in the bassinet next to the bed before departing as well. “And hit her head pretty hard on the dashboard… The baby had to be taken by C-section,” He adds, noticing Baekhyun’s eyes drifting over to the little one squirming in the bassinet. “We want to keep an eye on his vitals for a few days.”

“And my daughter?” Baekhyun mumbles, he can’t bear to raise his voice. Can’t bear the slow beeps of your heart rate echoing around the quiet room.

“Nothing but a few scratches.” He sees the doctor raise his hand from his peripheral as if to place it on his shoulder before reconsidering it, lowering it back down with a clear of his throat. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

Baekhyun barely acknowledges his words, shaky hands reaching out to cradle your ice cold one in his own. Unmerciful tears swarming his eyes. He doesn’t hold them back this time.

“I’m sorry.” He barely registers the pain of his knees hitting the tiled floor, head bowed as he folds in on himself, weeping so hard his shoulders quake from the built up emotions rolling through him by waves. Much more choppy than the ones that lapped at your bare feet dipped into the ocean all those years ago. At the edge of the world. Where nothing else mattered but your bright smile and your heart racing against his own.

“I-I’m sorr—” He chokes, hot tears flowing down his cold cheeks. Why did he pull away from you? Why did he have to go and hurt the sole person he would lay his own life down for? What if you never wake up? How will he explain to his daughter that her mother won’t be around anymore? That your son won’t know you at all anymore? You who were strong enough to stick by his side, filled to the brim with endless bounds of unconditional love despite how he treated you instead of the actions promised within your shared vows until you couldn’t — he made it so hard that you couldn’t anymore.

“I don’t deserve you.” He sniffles, voice cracking through his trembling lips. Hands clutching tightly onto your own. “I don’t deserve you at all, but please.” He can barely talk around the waterfall of tears pelting down his face, the sting of them worse than any downpour imaginable. “Please don’t leave me alone like this, baby. D-don’t.” He reaches up to cradle your cheek in his palm; the sound of his heart breaking nearly audible in wake of the healthy glow now gone from your face. “Open your eyes,” He breathes, fingers caressing your cheek. “Open your pretty eyes, baby. Tell me your love again,” He pleads, tears wetting the sheets and the fabric of your hospital gown. “Come back to me again.”

He drops his head again when you give no signs of hearing him; his hand slipping down helplessly back to your own grasping aimlessly at his — your hand!

Baekhyun nearly gets whiplash, eyes shooting up to meet your tired ones. The relief of seeing you looking back at him has him jumping to his feet, almost tangling himself up in the tubes attached to your body if not for your quiet warning reminding him. He settles for continuing to hold onto your hand, squeezing it softly as it slowly warms up the longer it is held within his, “You came back.” He whispers, astonishment clear in his hoarse voice.

“You came after me.” You utter right back, lifting your arm to let your daughter snuggle closer into your unbandaged side.

“Of course I did,” Baekhyun’s eyes flutter all over your person, heart leaping in so much joy he wonders if you can feel it racing between your intertwined hands. “I’d die for you.” He declares, words resonating through both your chests like the meaningful ones exchanged five long years ago.

“And I’d live for you.” You proclaim right back; smile bright and eyes lighting up at the small cries of your symbol of undying love.

#Baekhyun angst #I mispelled hospital THREE TIMES glad I read over it #bbh-net #let me go take a longggg break woo #Fallen

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nervousmendes · 4 years

Text

Canada - Shawn Mendes

Word Count: 2.4k words (fluff)

Warnings: No warnings, just extreme fluff and emotions

A/N: Writer AU based on the song Canada by Lauv ft Alessia Cara. She loves her life in LA but a new opportunity opens her eyes to a new beginning so she needs to figure out what she wants and get Shawn on board with it.

Anyone living in Hollywood knew that LA in the middle of March is not the best time to forget to pull the blinds before going to bed. Scolding herself, she turned around in an attempt to keep the sunlight away from her eyes, feeling Shawn's breath fan her face when she turned towards him. She opened her eyes and she couldn't help but smile with admiration for the man who was asleep with her in his arms. Her hand absent-mindedly went to the soft, brown curls that covered his closed eyes. She brushed them behind and grabbed a few locks in her hand gently, making him let out a sleepy groan. She crooked her neck slightly upward to softly brush her lips against his and when an involuntary hum came from his mouth she had to laugh at how much he enjoyed it even though he was fast asleep.

Waking up in his arms with the sun lighting up their skin was something that she wasn't blessed enough to enjoy often. And she couldn't really do much but simply blame the fact that they both loved their professional lives, and wouldn't give up any part of finally getting to live their dreams for the sake of their relationship. Of course she hated the distance, and so did he. There were nights when they would miserably miss each other, and while of course they had the little technology they knew to see each other's faces and blow kisses via FaceTime, they wouldn't get the feverish touch of each other's skin that they craved, the endless kisses or the warmth of being in each other's presence that they both yearned for after a long, tiring day. Their only solution to balancing everything out was to make the best of the time they got with each other every now and then, and so, he got used to flying back on days off and she came to terms with taking surprise flights to go give her boyfriend a good luck kiss before he jammed out on stage whenever her job kept her free. Not to forget that it didn't really always pan out well with the mess of the schedules that they both worked on but nevertheless, they never stopped giving their relationship their all because no matter how hard it got sometimes, love is a magical thing that always overpowered everything else, so somehow it would all just work out in the end.

She sighed in content as she snuggled closer to Shawn, her hair softly tickling his chin. She looked up at him once again, and kissed him this time not giving a care for whether he was awake or not. The feeling of her lips on his woke him up, and she cringed at herself when he stirred, eyes fluttering open.

"Someone seems a little too impatient this morning, eh?" She smiled on hearing his morning raspy voice and pushed away the thought of not having it the next day. His eyes were half closed and his curls were a mess but she still didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled down at her. It was now his turn to peck her lips, and as they met his mouth, he pulled her closer and swiftly lifted her off the bed and had her sit right on his stomach, hands splayed across his chest.

"Says you, who couldn't wait till I was done with my phone call last night." Her cheeks heated up and he had a smug smile on his face as they both reminisced their shenanigans from the previous night, the way his fingers worked their way under her lacy underwear while she was engrossed in discussing something work related with her colleague.

The thought of work (and sex, but she can think about that later) reminded her of the email she received three days ago, the morning Shawn had returned from tour. It was about a job offer in Toronto to be an editor for a well established magazine. He knew she had applied for the position, in fact he was the one who pushed her to when she kept complaining about how it would be impossible to actually get it. She did want to talk to him about the offer, but only after she knew for sure whether she was ready for a big change or not. And after a lot of thinking she figured that the opportunity would open so many new doors for her to grow and establish herself. She loved her work in LA but she had to admit that it was monotonous and there was nothing new for her to learn from drafting those articles anymore. With the new job she could also be closer to her family, and at the end of the day Toronto is where Shawn's home is too, not that it was really a deciding factor but she still considered it. She never thought she'd be one to make career decisions based on her relationship. She grew up with the idea of being an independent, self sufficient and confident woman who stood on her own two feet with her head held high. But love came in the way, consumed her. He consumed her, gave her his all, and literally breathed for her. And it would only be a big, fat, shameful lie if she said that it wasn't the same for her with him.

So now here she was, sitting on his pretty tummy with her mind lost in thought, trying to find the right moment to bring up that goddamn email with the most luring offer she'd ever gotten since the beginning of her career. She didn't want to upset him by saying she wanted to move, but she needed to talk about it. She knew in her heart that the job fit her needs and her dreams. She knew it was the right place to go to, and no matter how convenient living in LA made her relationship with Shawn, it was high time she gave herself the opportunity to grow. And who was she kidding, she wouldn't ever find anyone more supportive than him no matter how hard she tried, so yes, she knew it would practically take nothing for Shawn to support her with this decision, but the fact that she'd have to do it by that night before he we went back on the road did give her a good amount of stress.

"Baby, is everything okay? You haven't registered a single word I said."

His fingers resting on her waist drew small soothing circles on her skin as he pulled her closer to him, craning his neck up to meet her halfway and leave comforting kisses, the first to her lips and the second on the tip of her nose. She gave him a small smile that anyone would gladly accept, but Shawn being Shawn knew it was half-assed and could see the worry roaming behind her beautiful eyes.

"So is this the part where you tell me what's wrong or do I have to ask again?"

There was no avoiding it anymore, she had to talk about it. She slid off his frame and sat down, pulling her legs close to her chest. The sudden change in her demeanor caused Shawn to straighten up against the headboard and face her. She saw the lines his concern drew on his forehead and before even she could reach her hand out to smoothen them his big paws engulfed her tiny, warm ones, fingers carefully lacing into hers.

"Now spill, I'm listening." His reassuring smile that came after was enough to get the conversation started.

"Okay." She dragged, not knowing where to begin. His patient eyes didn't leave hers for even just a second as she reminded him of the application she made the first time and then told him about the offer, the position, the work she'd be doing and how it seemed a lot more interesting when compared to what she was doing at the moment. Shawn was always a good listener, and just like every other time, he paid attention to every detail and didn't cut her off a single time so that she could fully pour out how she felt about everything. She told him the whole story and finally let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in for that long.

"So yeah, that's what's up. I love the offer but I'm scared about moving and I don't know if it's the right thing to do."

"Okay first of all, I'm so proud of you, love. I can't ever say this enough but I am literally" a kiss to her lips, "sooo proud of you. I knew you'd get it, you are the most talented writer I know, and I mean that with my entire being." It was funny how even after more than a year of being with him she still giggled and blushed at his compliments like a kid in high school.

"What does your heart say?"

"My heart says I should take the leap and try something new. This is probably what I've always wanted in terms of my career. But I think-"

"No 'buts' baby. If this is what you want, you should go for it. What's stopping you?"

"This. Us. Me being in LA makes it so easy for us, we always get to see each other a lot more because at the end of the day this is where we both work. And yes we're both Canadian but let's face it, how often do we actually visit home?" The crack in her voice at the end gave her away and her glossy eyes fell to their intertwined hands, tears threatening to spill out.

"Hey, look at me. Look right at me." He now had his hands pressed against her cheeks and he lifted her face up so she could meet his gaze.

"We can make this work no matter where you go. You could be in fucking space and I will still love you just as much as I do right now. I love you so much, but you will never hold yourself back for the sake of our distance. Not under my watch. Okay?" And that was all it took for the tears to tumble down her face, except for that they ended up being happy ones.

"I love you so much, Shawn."

"And I love you more."

Her hands went to either side of his neck and he pulled her closer as her soft, pink lips connected with his. He pushed his tongue against hers and kissed her back with everything he had. His neck tilted sideways to give her a better angle, their mouths doing a patterned choreography that they knew all too well. He ended it with one wet kiss square on her lips, the smooching sound making her giggle loudly. They stayed that way, foreheads touching each other's, her hands, one around his neck and the other grabbing his hair, and his arms wrapped around her tiny frame pressed against his chest. This was all they ever wanted, young and in love, staying in bed an hour after they woke up, silly kisses and even sillier I love you's. It was perfect.

"So there's something I've been keeping secret for a while because I wanted to wait till the end of tour. But right now feels like the perfect moment to tell you. Also the fact that I don't think I can keep it in anymore, but that's secondary."

"Go on." She nodded, sitting back down while smiling at him.

"I did a lot of thinking and I realised that the end of four albums and four tours is a good time to take a much needed break and live a little normal life." He made air quotes on 'normal'. "And it would also make more time for me to spend with you. We deserve to have a normal relationship too, you know?"

"Shawn I'm so glad you realise you need a break."

"Wait I'm not done yet, here's the best part. The condo in Toronto is dull and empty, so... I'm coming with you to Toronto. I'll be there as soon as I'm done with tour " He smiled at her.

"Shawn, you don't have to! You have so much going on for you over here."

"No, I want to. I'll stay for however long, record the next album over there whenever I feel like it, but I'm going to be right there. I'll be there after a long day of work to give you back rubs, I'll be there to cook you some pasta, give you endless cuddles, keep you up on a weeknight for.. you know what." He had to add a little wink in there. "Point is, I love you and I love my job but I need a break from it to love you and myself a little more. And there is nothing in the world that I want more than that right now. So yes, I'm coming with you to Toronto."

She was at a loss for words. She didn't know what to say. The wide smile pasted on her lips and the tears in her eyes told Shawn more than her words could ever. Not knowing how to react, she plunged into his arms with a shriek and he let out a loud laugh as his back hit the mattress, her body going down with his.

"This is really happening." She breathed out, feeling his lips press a kiss to the crown of her head. His fingers stroked her hair and their smiles didn't seem to fade for what felt like hours. She could already imagine going to see her parents or his on weekends, build forts for movie night, reconnect with their old friends and relatives, get to take Karen's dog on walks, house parties, everything. Just the mere picture of their life in Toronto was enough to fill her with a buzz of endorphins. It felt so right. It suddenly felt like her life was pieced back together. She was going to live the life of her dreams, this time with the man of her dreams. It felt perfect.

"So.. Canada, huh?"

"Canada it is."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

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This is only my third fanfic and I'm still learning, so I hope you liked it. You can take a look at my masterlist for my other works right here. If you have any feedback or tips please feel free to tell me, it would be very much appreciated as I'm still new to this x

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Sign of Support.”

A lot of you have wanted some sort of update on the LFIL arc. So this one counts sort of as fluff, and sort of as a starting point for finally getting back to this arc.

Prepare yourself for Adam being awkward lol :)

It was happening again.

He had expected this sooner rather than later, and it hurt to watch.

He knew, more than anyone that it wasn’t going to work. The GA was full of aliens, not humans. The things that impressed humanity, the things that got humanity’s attention were the same sort of things that tended to scare the GA.

But of course, the average human couldn’t have known that, and with their tendency to change creatures around them to become more human, the aliens with which they worked didn’t see it either.

They were doing the right thing, but going about it the wrong way.

Still, that didn’t stop his feelings of sadness and empathy for their plight.

Walking with Sunny, standing on the buddy pegs attached to her back, and examining the protest encampment around him, he couldn’t help but be impressed by their bravery. He knew for a fact that if he was in their shoes, he would be way more likely to hide, lie to everyone around him, and even himself.

But here they were out in the open, a shining beacon of defiance against the GA.

It was a difficult situation, of course he supported the GA wholeheartedly, and he always would, and with that support came an understanding. But that didn’t mean that he had to agree with them.

They were scared.

And people tend to lash out at things that scare them.

As it turns out, that seemed to be a common factor across the galaxy.

He reached down, hand caressing the tear gas canisters at his belt and the accompanying gas mask. He prayed, just PRAYED that he wouldn’t have to use them, but how was he to know what would happen. When people got righteously angry about something they tended to act up, and when thrown into a group of like-minded people, the pack mentality was overwhelming.

He wanted everything to go well, he wanted them to make their point, to prove that they were the moral superiors, demonstrate to the GA that they weren’t militant, and all they wanted was peace.

That was the sort of thing that would get across to the GA.

But with humans involved…. He didn’t really have much hope.

He glanced around at the assembled tents looking for any sign of trouble.

He didn’t see much, just the limp white flags, with the LFIL logo printed proudly on their front.

Still keeping an eye on his surroundings he leaned against one of Sunny’s shoulders, “So what do you think about this whole thing?”

Sunny turned her head to look at him gold eyes and blue carapace glittering with the yellow sheen of the Rundi sky.

She shrugged, setting him a little off balance. She grabbed his feet to steady him as she continued up a small incline.

“It doesn't bother me, and I suppose I understand them.”

“Oh?”

“Imagine finding someone you connect with, someone who understands you more than anyone ever has. Imagine a Drev finding the greatest warrior in the galaxy, and then….. Just having to suffer knowing you can never be with them. Granted none of the other species ever would have considered it an option without the humans, but now…. It makes sense. You connect with someone well enough, then beyond that there isn’t much you can do.”

“I agree with you completely, but let me play devil's advocate for a moment. They aren't even the same species, without the same genetics. It wouldn’t be physically possible to produce a viable offspring.”

She turned her head to look at him, “And how does it work for your brother David and Jordan?”

He laughed, “Ok, ok, poor question.”

“Adoption, a relevant option. Plus, this is coming from the guy who lent his DNA to some alien.”

“Arguably she stole it, but I get your point.”

They turned another corner scanning the crowd, “Hear me out though. Humans are…. Well you know how humans are. They need…. Affection and intimacy….. How does that even…. Work?”

“Oh I am sure some human has found a way, besides, humans and Drev aren’t so different in that regard.”

He tilted his head to look at her, “How the hell do you know that.”

“Got into a discussion with Krill. He thinks it's possible, though he would never tell you humans. He already thinks you do a ton of stupid stuff anyway.”

“Don’t you guys also have a mating season.’

“We did, but it was actually based on the magnetic fluctuation of our planet in time with the seasons. Now that we don’t have that anymore, things are out of whack.”

He grunted, “huh, I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.”

“Because that is a totally normal thing to ask someone. Hello my name is Adam, and I am actually very curious about how….. That stuff… works on your planet.”

“That stuff, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, “I was sheltered ok, give me a break.” They came to a stop at a crossroads, and Adam stepped down from her back and onto the dirt tilting his head to listen trying to detect any signs of a disturbance as of yet there was nothing. He turned to the left down another line of tents passing into a more populated area of the protest encampment.

People wearing specially made clothing, with the LFIL logo, shirts, scarves, bandannas, jackets, hats etc. etc. walked about openly with their alien companions, a few even brave enough to show overt affection towards each other.

A human hugging a Tesraki, while another stood on a box to kiss the cheek of their drev partner.

“Now that, is something I couldn’t do.” he said to sunny, walking past.

“Kiss someone/”

“No, Kiss someone two to three feet taller than me. Way too much work.”

“How do you know, maybe climbing up three feet would be worth it.”

Eyes followed them nervously as they walked past, their riot gear marking them as ‘the enemy’.

“I would rather not be in danger of twisting my ankle every time I wanted to show someone affection, thanks.”

“You twist your ankle anyway.”

“That’s my point. If I twist my ankle now, Imagine what would happen if I had to do acrobatics on a regular basis.” They came to a halt as a group of protesters paraded in front of them holding up picket signs.

One of the protesters turned to glare at him, “We aren't doing anything illegal.”

Adam held up his hands, “I know. I’m just security to make sure no one gets hurt.’

The other human didn’t seem convinced angrily grabbing their alien companion around the waist before marching off.

The Tesraki looked uncomfortable looking back at them apologetically.

Though tesraki were generally cutthroat businessmen, they tended towards extreme submissiveness in relationships with humans.

Adam stepped through the gap left by the protesters and continued walking.

As they did they early ran into a group of kids selling little white flags and bandannas. They pulled to a halt, eyes widening in surprise and shock. A young Tesraki pulled to a halt with them looking as if he was about to panic and run off.

However, the kid at the front’s eyes widened and a big smile crossed his face,, ‘holy shit! You, I know you!”

Adam smiled, “You do now?”

“Yeah , yeah you’re in that movie. You, you command the UNSC fleet.”

For some reason, that exclamation calmed the other kids, and they squealed, shouting and asking for a picture. Of course he was happy to oblige, posing with them for their pictures. Sunny stood to the side happy to watch though she was dragged in for the next set of pictures once they realized who she was.

“What are you doing here?” one of them asked glancing down at his clothing. Smile falling, “You…. aren't here to stop us are you?”

Adam shook his head, “No, of course not, protesting isn’t illegal.” He motioned to Sunny with his other hand, “Sunny and I are just here to make sure that you guys stay safe, and that no one gets hurt.’

Sunny nodded.

One of the more skeptical looking teens looked up at him, “How do we know you aren't here to stop us. You work for the GA after all.”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t have much else to prove other than my word.”

The skeptic looked at them, a wicked smile appearing on her face, “I know.” She reached into her cart and pulled out one of the bandannas, “Wear this.”

It was clear she expected him to balk at the idea, but to her surprise, he smiled, “Alright, sounds reasonable.” he held out his arm, and watched, still smiling as she tied it around his upper arm still glowering at him skeptically, “Think you can spare one for my friend.” He patted Sunny on the arm.

That broke her skepticism, and she smiled openly handing a second one over to him, which he tied around one of Sunny’s upper arms. He waved a goodby to them, and stepped back up onto Sunny’s back walking away with her.

“That was nice of you.”

He shrugged, ‘Not really. I honestly agree with them. The GA has no right to tell them who they can and cannot be with. I know they have some reasons, but I feel like there is a better way of dealing with it.”

Sunny hummed deep in her throat, “Uh-huh, or you really just want a really tall girlfriend.”

He sighed, “Honestly I’d settle for any size girlfriend if I could just talk to her like a normal person without sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“Your incompetence with women is acrobatic.”

He snorted, “I’m glad you’re impressed.

Together, they continued their slow circle around the encampment drawing suspicious and confused eyes as they went. Sometimes they were recognized, and, occasionally people would ask to take pictures with them, other times, they just wanted to talk.

The variety of people was… astounding.

A barely five foot human with a nine foot Drev. A group of humans and a group of Tesraki.

A lawyer and a Finnari.

Two couples both as business partners with a Tesraki half.

They were young and old male-female, in all different pairings. Old soldiers, and young students. It was honestly quite stunning.

At one point they stopped off for water and ran into a Massive bodybuilder with his drev, whose carapace at any other time would have marked her as ugly for a Drev. At first Sunny felt bad for her, with her muddy brown carapace, mat without any shine.

The man turned and handed Adam some water.

Adam raised the bottle, “Thanks.”

The man looked him over eyeing the bandanna around his arm, “Interesting accessories for a GA affiliate.”

“You can work for someone and disagree with them.”

The man laughed, “I suppose that’s true.”

He greeted Sunny as well who was trying not to stare at the other female Drev for too long lest it seem like she was staring..

He motioned to the arm band, “Supporter, or-” his eyes flicked between Adam and Sunny.

“We’re just here to make sure everyone stays safe.”

Off to the side the mat Drev looked at Sunny, “I’m sorry.”

Sunny glanced over at her nervously, “Sorry for what?”

“You must have been treated poorly on Anum.”

Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I was alright.”

“Regardless. I hope things work out for you. The Drev beauty standards are unfair, and things need to change.”

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure how she was supposed to feel about that.

“They aren't so bad.” she ventured defensively.”

“Then I am sure you are getting combat offers left and right with your coloring.”

Sunny went quiet again . She would have said this was passive aggressive, but the Drev didn’t do passive aggressive, so was this just an open statement about how ugly she was? If that was the case, it kind of hurt.

“I have, because I am an experienced warrior.” Her voice was cold.

“Oh, where is your partner?”

Sunny felt her fists clench, but Adam placed a hand on her arm. She was quiet, “I turned them down.”

That seemed to surprise the female Drev.

The two humans exchanged a look, the way that only humans can, speaking without actually saying anything.

Adam took Sunny by the arm and raised his water at the man, “Good luck to you.” before turning to walk away.

“I hope you find a battle partner.” the other Drev cut in at the last second.

Adam Squeezed Sunny’s arm tighter, but she turned her head anyway snapping, “I already have.” Before marching off without another word. Adam was forced to scamper after her, his legs much shorter.

“Wow, wow, hold your horses.”

She finally slowed to a stop still fuming.

“Who the hell does she think she is!”

“Sunny-.”

“Calling me ugly to my face!”

“Sunny-”

“I should have challenged her to a duel right then and there.”

“Sunny!”

She turned to look at him, “What?”

He climbed back up on her back patting her shoulder, “She was just insecure and jealous.I mean come on, look at you, Blue is the rarest color in the galaxy, and we all know that height is the least important attribute of Drev beauty standards. The better you can fight, the more you make up for it, besides it's not her fault that she can’t accept someone as being valid unless they are in a pair.”

Sunny grunted.

He frowned, “Speaking of which, coming from her it seems like a double standard. You fight with me, and I’m fucking awesome, so by default you have to be too.”

“Wow Adam, you really know how to make a person feel better.”

“I know.”

They were crossing back to the other side of the encampment, when they ran into some familiar faces.

Ramirez and Maverick appeared from the crowd, waving the two of them down with greeting hands.

They pulled to a stop, and the Commander motioned to the white bandanna on Ramirez’s arm, “Nice accessories.”

“I like yours too.”

“I didn’t know you were a supporter.”

Ramirez laughed, “Man I am a supporter of whatever the hell people want to do with themselves.”

Off to his side maverick had tied one of the white bandannas to her belt.

“And you.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit. I don’t even think it should be an issue, but by banning it, the GA created a problem for themselves and took away the freedom of choice for these people. Even if I did disagree with what they are doing, I would still support their ability to make that choice for themselves.” She tugged on the bandanna, “But hey, would I be wearing this otherwise.”

The commander nodded his head surprised and pleased at his men for being so open minded, though he supposed it should make sense. They worked with aliens every day. Where others might have fostered a sense of fear based on unfamiliarity, they had experience.

“Lets just hope this all goes over well tomorrow. I don’t want to have to use any of this.” He motioned down to his gear

The commander sighed.

“Isn’t that the catch 22.”

Loyal to one side sympathetic to the other, and empathetic to both.

He would be relieved when it was finally fixed.

Though how he could help was beyond him.

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paragonrobits · 4 years

Text

Azulaang fic for @irresistible-revolution for the prompt ‘Azulaang + dancing’!

the premise is that this takes place several years after the events of ATLA, and Azula has been traveling with Aang as part of a long-term life-changing field trip, so she’s grown a bit from the person she was, but she’s still got a few things to learn

----

Azula is a woman of immense pride, and so, it wounds her to admit that she is less than perfect in everything. She has to be perfect, in everything she does; in the way she drops her words into place as neatly as the point of a blade, in the exacting movements of her Firebending forms, in the subtle methods in which she says only a few choice words to fill her enemy’s minds with doubt and uncertainty.

She has struggled long in the vicious political battlegrounds of the Fire Nation, and won out. She doubts that her brother would last long without help; he is poorly suited to intrigue. He is a more competent survivor that she had given him credit for, and his presence as Fire Lord alone has cast an unfamiliar curl of doubt that, maybe, she was wrong to assume she knew everything.

Rehabilitation, they called it as they commanded her to stay by the Avatar’s side until such time as he declared her suitable in his eyes to return home.

It’s a banishment. Yet she doesn't mind it all that much, and it’s not a comforting thought; it’s a rank feeling, a seething hot brand in the pit of her stomach. She has been cast away, her life and freedom at the mercy of an enemy who has little reason to share mercy with her, and it’s a foe she knows she has no way to defeat in a straight fight.

It should bother her more, but it does not. She doesn’t understand why. She is, however, coming to understand that perhaps she ought to watch her words around the Avatar.

He is… she’s searched for an appropriate word, and settled upon fickle. Or perhaps flighty. It’s not something that sets her entirely at ease, the way he flits from one thought to another with all the ease of a bird-cat alighting from one branch and then springing to another, or how his mood can shift from terrible graveness to sudden giggling merriment, with none of the between-moods there should be.

He changes like the wind. It’s strangely exciting, in his unpredictability. She has prided herself, in the past, on being good with people, even if she must admit now that (on the balance of evidence, and time has taken the sting out of what she had considered betrayal), but she does not understand him. She does not understand his ways, or the thoughts that lead him from one idea to an apparently unrelated one.

And this brought itself to the central point: that for all her efforts to be perfect in every way, she does not actually know how to dance.

-----

The Avatar (and it will be a long time before she, mired in the rigid political honorifics of the Fire Nation royal courts, can dare to speak to him by his own name, and her hair prickles in alarm and shock when he persistently asks her to speak to him so familiarly) had grinned.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” His voice was sing-song, almost teasing; gusting this way and that, as if to push her in directions at random. She can’t get a read on him at all, and it bothers her, and he knows that it bothers her, and so he plays his strange games with her.

Her head tilted up. “I do not know how to dance,” she replied, acidly. “You would be so very surprised to learn how it is not an essential skill in military conduct, nor the art of rulership.”

“Honestly, that sounds kinda boring. Learning new things is something to look forward to, not just because it helps you!”

It was important to note that at the time, for no apparent reason, he was spinning on a disc of air on his hands, only looking at her for brief seconds in his revolutions.

Her nostrils flared. “Dancing is for children and peasants who don’t have anything better to do.”

“Are you just saying that because it bothers you that I can dance, and my friends can dance, evne Zuko, and you don’t know how?”

Her silence speaks volumes. Irritable, bad tempered volumes.

He pauses, just for a moment, staring at her head-on. He’s still upside down, but his rounded features (so disarmingly like Ty Lee that some vague suspicions of blood descent and Air leaving behind a few embers, here and there, come to mind) turn towards her, his eyes so grey they are almost translucent.

“So you’ve never even tried?”

“Never.” She gazed into his eyes, trying to find a hint of whatever plan or plot he had in mind this time.

“Mm hmm.” He smiles, widening at the corner of his mouth as though he won’t be honest if it’s a grin or a challenging sneer. “It’s okay if you want to admit you can’t do it.”

“What?!” She stiffened up. “I certainly can!”

“No, no. It’s fine if you don’t think you can learn it at all.”

He has just outright challenged her. “I shall!” Her ego marches ahead of any other thought, and she’s already aware that she has gotten herself entangled in his schemes. Again. “Show me, if you dare.”

“All right,” he said, leaping upwards and landing in a full standing position, and she knows now that he is most definitely grinning, holding a hand out to him.

As she permits him to take her hand, she cannot deny an emotional flicker there, as his fingers brush across her hand.

----

And now, they dance.

Or rather, the Avatar dances, and she does his best to keep up, and part of her keeps thinking of it like a fight. A duel, and it seems strangely fitting.

A duel in which one fighter is a master who knows he has already won, and the other fighter is a novice, too stubborn to admit that she hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin.

He moves so easily around her. Physical effort is second nature to her; sport games, Firebending, the many martial arts absorbed and devised by past leaders of the Fire Nation even in the days when the Fire Lord had only been leader of the Fire Sages; she knows them all, and picks them up so easily that it is as though she has done them many times over.

He moves more easily than that; he leaps across her, and as she turns to match his graceful movements (too graceful, so fluid and dynamic!), he is already facing her, bowing backwards, his feet leaving the ground and his hands catching him. Then he is spinning on both his hands, each revolution carrying him away from her.

“You’re too rigid,” he chides her. “There’s no secret formula to it. You just go with the flow and ride it!”

“Oh, is that Airbending philosophy?” Azula asks; her tone is bored, but the question is genuine.

The Air Nation is something of a blank spot in her knowledge. History books speak little about them; only that they were a military nation, bested during Sozin’s first military actions, and wiped out to the last man. And she knows that there never was an Air Nation.

There had only been the Air Nomads. As a younger woman, she wouldn’t have cared much either way. But older now, and wiser, and not quite the same woman under the Avatar’s tutelage and experience of the world…

She does not know how to feel, and that vast depth before her taunts at her. But she does know they were very different from the Fire Nation, and here lies an element of their philosophy.

“It’s just how dancing works, where I’m from,” the Avatar replies, now sliding closer to her. It’s a struggle to match his movements; there is no predicting them, there is no switch from one form to another, just a chaotic and ever-shifting flow of limbs and body, and she cannot outpace it, only match it. He grins. “So, you’re not wrong!”

She understands something, then. The thought has been working beneath the surface, chipping away and puzzling over it.

She knows the essence of fire is power; Zuko has spoken of drive and energy, and she still does not quite understand what that means. She knows other Bending forms draw power from other aspects of human nature and thought, and she finally understands that Airbending is freedom.

Fire burns hotter with anger, with drive and aggression. But as he allows himself to be free, to be detached from the tethers around him, he flies; the air around him buoys him upwards, or erupts around him, uncontrolled and truly free, destructive beyond measure or completely harmless without any apparent pattern.

She understands him a bit better, she thinks.

And then he leans in, his hand just below her own.

“A dance between two people is a partnership,” he says mischievously. “It’s not a battle you win. It’s something you do, together.”

Her hand moves, almost on its own, and pauses just below it, nearly ready to grasp his hand.

She hesitates.

She killed him once, she remembers. So why does he make her nervous?

He smiles at her, fearlessly, calmly, as though he is above petty things like grudges or memories of war. His eyes lock with her own, and she’s rarely seen someone so forthright with her, especially not a boy in her age range.

She’s never had peers, she thinks. Only soldiers and subordinates; never real friends, not anyone that pursued her company of their own accord, as he had when he had suggested this in the early days of her rehabilitation.

His hand is still proffered to her. She’s never known anyone who wanted to hold her hand.

And there is a feeling like electricity between his hand, and her own; a simmering tension, a feeling that she must either run away now before he changes his mind, or grasp and never let go-

Her fingers seize his hand, and he squeezes back.

He moves. “Follow my lead,” he says, head tilting up to look into her eyes, and she silently follows.

And, in that moment, it is freeing to simply move in that dance, without worrying about appearances, to let the wind carry her.

And his hand feels warm and soft in her grip. She has known power and authority, dominance and security. She has not known kindness.

She thinks she would like to know it a little better now.

#atla #aang #azula #azulaang #fics #my writing #requests

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lovelylaurie · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Day

Laurie Laurence x (March) Reader Words: 1,846 Summary: The reader finds herself very much bored on a slow morning, but luckily Laurie shows up to make things interesting.

It’s mid-morning. The sun shines warm and bright through the window and you sit calmly and contentedly on the couch in the sitting room with your feet pulled up under your skirt and a book lying open on your lap. Beth is on the floor beside you, caring for and playing with her dolls. She lovingly caresses their dresses, ties on their bonnets, and speaks to them softly. Meg is across the room, having settled into Marmee’s chair with an air of motherly domesticity that becomes her. Jo is up in the attic, writing, and you can hear her pacing every now and again, shouting or exclaiming when she’s particularly moved or wants to reenact a scene. Amy declared earlier that she was going to get an early start for the day and left right after breakfast with a pad of paper and her pencils. A warmth comforts and fills you as Beth’s whisperings put a small smile on your face. Yet something keeps drawing you away from the story in front of you, a restlessness that will not be ignored. The air is calm, but still, stagnant, and it makes you want to open a window, or just do something.

Not a second later, you see a figure flash in front of the window. The front door bursts open and Laurie flies through, slamming it shut after him. Everyone turns to look and Meg starts to get up, “What was that?” she cries. A wide smile spreads across your face, and a matching one spreads across Laurie’s. He’s standing flush against the door as if hiding. “It’s Laurie,” you tell her, shutting your book and standing up to meet him. Beth, wary, returns to her dolls. Laurie leans forward and peeks out of a window, before snapping back to face you, “Okay, listen, you can’t tell anyone that I’m here.” “So what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” “Nothing!” he exclaims, but you don’t look convinced, “Nothing, I promise.” “As if your word is worth a damn.” Meg gasps from the other room, “(Y/N)!” You elect to ignore her, as you notice someone else walking up the path from the Laurence house. “Is that Mr. Brooke?” Laurie grabs you by the shoulders and explains quietly, “Yes. And I beg you, (y/n), not to give me away. I’ll explain later-” There’s a knock at the door and Laurie turns, slightly startled. You take a moment to compose yourself, making sure not to glance over at Laurie. The preposterousness of the situation would have you keeling over with laughter in an instant. Opening the door you find, as expected, John Brooke. He’s holding his hat in front of him in his hands, his face twinged with mild worry. “Good day, (y/n),” he says politely, “have you by any chance seen Laurie? Maybe he came by here?” “Oh no, haven’t seen him all day.” Meg shifts uneasily in her chair. Laurie, standing still as a statue beside you, clamps a hand to his mouth and his dark eyes screw up with restrained laughter. Brooke looks a little surprised, “Really? I could’ve sworn…” but he trails off and glances away, searching elsewhere for the wayward boy. Trying to drive him off, you ask, “Are you all right, Mr. Brooke?” It works. “Yes, quite. Good day, Ms. March.” He puts his hat back on and bows slightly before turning to leave. “Good day, Mr. Brooke.” You close the door as quickly as possible and face Laurie expectantly. He bursts with laughter and you have no choice but to join in the joyous uproar. The creeping boredom of the slow morning is long forgotten, and you are glad for it. Laurie’s boisterous presence has brightened your day. The guffaws die down, but then he smirks again and snickers and it begins all over. He holds onto your arms and you lean into each other for support. His eyes glisten and his smile sends flutters to your heart. You have to look away, leaning your head onto his shoulder. Pulling apart a few minutes later, he waltzes into the sitting room before you, proclaiming, “Beth! Meg! Lovely morning, isn’t it?” Beth grins and Meg looks reproachful. “It is, and I trust you haven’t been up to too much mischief, Laurie?” she says politely. He feigns offense, with a hand on his chest and a raise of his eyebrows, “Never!” and walks past her into the dining room, with you following close behind. He sits on the table, legs dangling down, hands clasped in his lap, and with a very pleased look on his face. You stand in front of him and try to straighten his collar as he cocks his head to the side and smiles at you. “Explain yourself, Mr. Laurence,” you tease. “Oh, (y/n), you have to forgive me. Brooke was being even more of a dull bore than usual and I couldn’t stand it anymore. He left for a moment to grab a drink and I threw open the window and bolted the second he was gone.” He’s clearly trying to look apologetic, but just appears incredibly amused with himself instead. And without a moment’s hesitation, “You are forgiven.” Laurie is rowdy, handsome, and arrogant. His eyes twinkle at the very hint of fun and his smiles are infectious. His hair is messy. Unruly, dark curls tossed around his face. He is also, as you now notice, without a coat or tie, and this sign of casual comfort brings a rosy flush to your cheeks. “You’re blushing,” he says, unabashed. Well, that certainly didn’t help, and you can feel yourself grow even redder. “From laughing,” you lie. “Uh-huh… of course.” His smirk steals your heart, and you rush to change the subject so you don’t accidentally do something stupid. “So! Laurie, if you aren’t going to study, what would you like to do today.” He raises his eyebrows, “Well, I was thinking-” “That’s a first.” “-we could go on an adventure.” He appears amused by your interruption and the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he grins. “I would love to.” “But,” he glances off to the side and leans away from you slightly, “we’ll have to go out the back door because, well-” “You’re a convict on the run,” you finish. “Absolutely.” He jumps off the table bows, “After you, Madame.” “Why thank you, Monsieur.” You lead him out the back door, walking together towards the woods behind your house when you hear someone call after you. “Laurie! Laurie!!” It’s Brooke, coming back from down the lane, “(y/n), wait!!” You believe for a moment that you’ve been caught and that it’s all over, but then Laurie grabs your hand in his and says, “Run!” And so you run, hand in hand, into the woods, tearing down the path as fast as you can. You know you’ve lost Brooke within less than a minute, but Laurie keeps on running. Your heart only beats faster and faster. Whether from the running or the feeling of his hand in yours, you can only guess. Suddenly, he swerves to the right, behind a large oak tree. He pulls you in, holding you close. “Laurie-” you gasp, but he puts a finger on your lips. “Shh, (y/n), or he’ll catch us!” You giggle, knowing that Brooke definitely lacked the audacity to follow, and probably just went to tell Marmee and Mr. Laurence instead. Then you grow silent as you realize what just happened, how Laurie simply pretended you were still being chased in order to… in order to do whatever this is. His arms are around your shoulders, and your hands are on his chest. You can feel his heart beating under your fingertips, wild and alive. His smile is triumphant, but you try not to read into it too much. You pull away after a few minutes, reluctantly, having reveled in his warmth and his embrace. And so your day of adventure and fun begins. Late in the afternoon, the sun shines golden through the hills, heralding the approach of sunset. The air is warm and smells sweetly of moss and grass. You are positively beaming, after traipsing through the trees and jumping over streams, pretending that they were foggy, haunted moors and deadly rivers. You find a tall tree with low branches and, in a burst of initiative, begin climbing. After a short while, you sit down on a branch to take off your shoes and can continue much faster. You finally find a nice spot to sit in and peer down at Laurie, many feet below you. He holds out a hand dramatically, “Dear maiden! I will rescue you!” “But oh, valiant knight, this maiden needs no rescuing.” He breaks into a charming grin, “Of course! But will she grace this poor fellow with her hand and perhaps a kiss on the cheek.” He looks mischievous, and somehow elegant, balanced precariously. Laurie, as always, adopts an air of graceful nobility with ease. “Only if he can catch her.” His eyes flare and he immediately chases after you, climbing up and around as you descend nimbly. You jump down as quick as you can without risking any broken bones and take off into a run. Not long after, you hear Laurie touch down and take off after you. It’s great fun to make him give chase, but he’s faster than you and quickly catches up. For the second time today, he wraps his arms around you. But this time they’re around your waist and he hoists you up, twirling you around for a few seconds before setting you down. You find your hands on his shoulders and his face near yours. It’s intoxicating and it’s heavenly and before you know what you’re saying, you blurt out, “You’re wonderful, Theodore Laurence.” He smiles wider, if that was even possible, and murmurs, “So how about that kiss?” You can’t find the right words. Instead, you lean closer and closer, and he does the same, having to lean his head down slightly. And then his lips meet yours and you think your heart might just burst. You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer still, smiling into the kiss. “You’re wonderful, (y/n) March,” he whispers. You almost cut him off, kissing him again with relief and delight. Then, breathless, you lean your head against his chest. He is comfortable and welcoming and you want to stay here forever. But all good things must come to an end, even days full of adventure and new love. You return to the edge of the woods, behind your house, having said nothing about the kiss. It didn’t need words, it felt so right, so perfect. He takes your hand in his and gives it a small kiss, “That was splendid.” “I agree.” Grinning, he turns down the road to the looming mansion. “Goodbye, Laurie!” “Au revoir, madame (y/n)!” He struts away, hands in his pockets, glancing back to see you disappear into the house.

#fic #Laurie #Laurie Laurence #Laurie x reader #Little Women #Little Women 2019 #Theodore Laurence #Theordore Laurence x reader #Laurie Little Women #Laurie Little Women 2019 #Laurie Laurence x reader

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moonlightsolo · 4 years

Text

bête noire

summary: The First Order finds you and Rey on Tatooine. You manage to escape with her and make it back to the Resistance base, but you’re not entirely sure if you wanted to go back. Poe catches onto your tension which causes more problems.

pairing: kylo ren x reader & some poe x reader

warnings: cursing, angst, sad boi hours

wc: 4k

note: sorry for the chapter being a week late i was super busy and had no time to write but this is a really good chapter im happy with how it came out.

CHAPTER FORTY

The pulsating in your head knocks you off balance as you try to stand up from the ground. Sand is still flying everywhere.

It conceals you and Rey from the enemies in the sky. Rey grabs a fistful of your shirt and pulls you up from the ground. Sands falls off of your body to join the rest below you.

She holds onto your hand tight as she pulls you through the cloud of sand before it clears up. She crouches down to stay out of sight and get out of the open area.

She presses her back against a wall of a building to get herself together. Her hands push the sand off of her face, shaking her hair to get it out and you do the same.

Rey peeks around the corner “There are stormtroopers.” She whispers, “They probably know that we’re here from the Falcon being out there.” She sighs.

“I knew I should’ve put it somewhere else.” Her fingers go up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.

Rey unhooks her lightsaber from her belt then you feel goosebumps and you shiver noticeably. Rey notices your body subtly shake and your face drops. Once she realizes what’s wrong, her face mimics yours. “He’s here isn’t he?” She whispers towards you.

His presence is strong in the Force, he can most likely sense that you and Rey are close by too.

“We need to go.” Your voice is shaking. You’re not afraid. Well, maybe a little bit. Not for your wellbeing, you know he wouldn’t hurt you. If you get captured, your children will be stuck with the Resistance.

Rey snaps her fingers in front of your face to get you out of your own head, “We need to come up with a plan. They’ll probably have troops guarding the Falcon. Should we fight our way there?”

Her voice is interrupted by the sound of the fighters flying above, then you hear a voice. It’s a stormtrooper. “Find any survivors and kill them. We’re looking for the two girls Ren wants.“ It must be a commander of some sort. “Move out.”

Your eyes go wide again when you hear the marching of the squad of stormtroopers moving closer. You grab Rey’s hand and begin running the opposite way, sliding quietly into a deserted street store.

You crouch behind a wooden food stand and Rey hides behind a wall parallel to you. You peek out from behind it to see the white armored legs of the troops walking by. There’s about ten of them. You both could possibly take them all out of you had better cover.

“Search the area. Don’t leave anything untouched.” One of them orders. They start to branch off in pairs. It’s like a game of hide and seek.

A pair begins to walk into the store you’re hiding in, you shuffle backward quietly to conceal yourself more underneath the rickety wooden stand. It creaks as your body slides underneath it. You silently curse yourself when their steps stop in front of the cart.

Rey’s lightsaber ignites behind them as she runs forward and pierces both of the troops through their torsos. They groan and go limp. The blue light disappears back into the hilt and their bodies fall to the floor in a heap. Your eyes are wide as you look up at Rey and she’s staring back at you with the same look.

Kylo’s close and she can feel it too. Your hands start to shake. Rey takes your hands into her own to calm you, “Let’s go.” She pulls you up from the ground. “Get your saber ready.” She whispers as she peeks out the entrance, looking both ways. “There are some troopers down at the end of the walkway.” She mumbles to you.

You barely heard her but you still follow her out. She jogs the opposite way, hopping into a small shack on the side when she sees troops coming around the corner.

“I think if we can go that way. We can get to the ship.” She points towards the archway that leads to the sandy dunes where the Falcon is. “Yeah. What if they’re surrounding it?” You ask.

A small pain gently thumps in the back of your head, you hiss as you grip your neck. Rey’s eyes look down at you, “Don’t let him in. He’s trying to reach out to you.” She grips your shoulders, “Stay strong.” She grabs your hand to pull you out of the building with her. She makes a run for the exit, sand kicks up behind her feet as you follow.

Dizziness starts to blur your vision and nausea rises in your throat as you stumble. “Rey....” You slur out as you trip over your own feet and face plant into the sand, unable to catch yourself. Rey screams your name and you use all your energy to pick your head up.

By what you can make out, she is running towards you until she lets out a yelp. You blink slowly to try and get your vision to clear but it’s getting worse. White blobs move into your vision and grab ahold of her. They surround you too.

“Let go of me!” Rey screams, her voice cracks as she thrashes. “Don’t hurt her!” She cries out as rough hands grab your wrists and pin them to your back.

A large black figure walks into your vision, it’s him. You let out a soft sob, not knowing if you’re sad or happy.

“You cannot corrupt her no longer, Kylo Ren. She’s stronger than you know.” Rey spits out at him.

“We’ll see.” He almost chuckles at her words, “Take her away.” He orders then turns around to look at you. You can faintly hear Rey screaming your name as she’s being pulled away. He bends down to your level to look into your eyes. “Let go of her. I’ll take it from here.” He stands up swiftly then replaces their hands with his warm ones.

When his skin touches yours, it feels like your senses come back to you. Your vision clears and you gasp in sharply. He slowly pulls you up to your feet, keeping your hands pinned behind your back. “I see that you’ve gotten your own saber.” He whispers in your ear. His deep voice sends shivers down your spine. He continues to push you forward from behind, “Our power together is indescribable and our children... We need to get them back.”

There’s no way you could go back to the Resistance now.

You gasp and sit up quickly, your eyes dart around as you take in your surroundings. You’re on the Falcon laying on one of the cots. “Rey?!” You scream out, your lips are dry from the sand and heat dehydrating you.

Her voice appears on the intercom, “Stars, I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Her thick accent soothes you. “I thought I lost you. We’re on our way back to the Resistance.”

You stand up from the bed, your vision darkens in the corners but you still power through it to make it to the cockpit. You walk in on her clicking some buttons before standing up, you’re in hyperspace. “What happened?” You breathe out.

Your dream felt so real. You really thought you have reunited with Kylo again.

“You were unconscious from the blast. I carried you all the way to the Falcon. It wasn’t easy.” She stands up then pulls you into a hug. “Come sit, come sit.” She leads you over the co-pilots seat.

You’re baffled. “I had the most realistic dream ever. We got captured by the First Order, Rey. I saw him. I saw Kylo.” You look at her with doe-like eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know you miss him.” Her hand rests on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “Hopefully one day he’ll come around.” She plops down in her pilot's chair. It’s silent for a few moments before you talk again.

“I do... I miss him a lot, Rey. There are some days I want to see him so badly but sometimes, I just want to run away from it all.” You sigh, “I’m going to be connected to him for my lifetime. I had his children. I honestly thought he was changing for a moment.” You grumble.

Rey looks over at you a bit sadly, “You don’t have to be connected to him forever, you know. You can use the Force to block him out. Almost like putting a wall up.” She suggests with a shrug.

You don’t want to do that. You love him.

“Maybe.” You say under your breath, rolling your eyes without her seeing you.

“He was on Tatooine. I felt him but I got you out of there quick before anything else could happen.” She says proudly.

The mention of being so close to him and not being able to see him makes something inside of you uneasy.

You have to agree to see him even though your conscience is still thinking about what could happen if he did come to you.

“You okay?” Rey notices you spacing out and staring at the swirling colors of hyperspace. Her hand gently grabs yours which brings you back to reality.

Your eyes dart over to hers and you put on a fake smile, “Yeah I’m fine.” You laugh and shake your head. “Get some rest. We’ll be home soon.” Rey smoothes your hair back with her hand and you grow sleepy. Your head falls forward and bounces back up to rest against the seat to fall asleep.

The feeling of Rey’s hand grips your wrist and you wake up instantly. You take a deep breath as you open your eyes, the darkness outside startles you but you notice the trees. You’re back on the moon with the Resistance.

The ramp has already been opened and people are already unloading the supplies you brought. “We’re back.” Her voice is gentle as she unbuckles you and grabs your hands to help you stand.

You stumble for a second but another pair of hands catch you, “Poe...” You smile wide as you turn to see his face. His hands rise from your waist to cup your cheeks, bringing your lips to his.

Every time he kissed you, it felt perfect but for some reason, it feels different right now. You pull away after a few seconds to look at him, “Rey filled me in on what happened on the way here.” His thumb brushes against your sandy skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” One of his arms snake around your waist to help you off the ship. Chewy greets you immediately with a big roar, his furry arms steal you away from Poe’s side. The Wookiee picks you up and twirls you around happily. You giggle as he says something about you smelling weird.

“Tatooine is a sweaty planet. What can I do about it?” You look up at him once he sets you down. Chewy pats your head then lets Poe take his place to bring you to the showers.

Poe readies up the shower for you, hanging up your shower caddy that has all the soap in it. You disappear behind the curtain, closing it tight so you could shower in private. Poe sits outside on a chair, making small talk with you as you wash your body.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re quiet.” He stands up to move closer to the curtain, you see his boots standing outside. You let out a sigh, wishing you could spill everything to him about wanting to see Kylo again but of course you can’t tell him that.

Maybe you should invite Poe into the shower. No, you really shouldn’t. You haven’t been intimate with him yet and doing that with him now just to leave him later. Not a good look on your reputation.

“Yeah, I just hit my head really hard and it’s hurting. I just need to sleep.” You turn the water off once you’re done washing every crevice of your body. Your hand reaches out to grab the towel off the hook, bringing it into the shower to wrap it around your body.

His hand opens the curtain, a look of concern grows on your face. “What?” You ask as he stares at you. “There’s something else wrong.”

You groan and push past him as you ring out your hair, you grab the pile of your dirty clothes and start to walk out to go to your room. He follows close behind, “See? This is what I’m talking about. You don’t open up to me. How can we be in a relationship if you can’t talk to me?” He raises his voice at you which makes you turn on your heel to face him.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be in a relationship.” You snap. The look of pain crosses his face which makes you instantly regret those words. You turn back around so you don’t have to face him, “You don’t mean that... Do you?” His voice cracks.

You don’t look at him, “I’m sorry.” You breathe out, “My life is a mess right now. I don’t know how I could possibly try to be in a relationship when I’m bonded to your enemy.” You sniffle then you turn your head to look behind you. He’s crying too. “You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Poe. I just can’t do this right now.” You start walking forward, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You turn down the hall your room is on.

When you’re out of sight, you press your back against the wall and silently cry into the back of your hand. A door opens up to your right and a random person peeks out, you’re still in your towel and water is dripping from your hair onto the floor.

He takes your appearance in, “You okay?” He asks which makes you wipe your tears away and nod. Obviously, you’re not.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Your voice croaks as you walk past them to get to your door and open it.

You lock it behind you then you look over your room, the bassinets are gone since they’re staying with Leia tonight so you can rest. It seems too empty. It’s lonely. You snatch the wrinkled pajamas out of your clothes bin to get dressed. You also grab your hairbrush to get the knots out of your hair before you lay down.

It’s been a rough day.

Water drips onto the roof of the ship, making a small rhythmic pattern that soothes you. Right as your body starts to fall asleep, everything around you goes silent.

Kylo’s here.

Your eyes shoot open and dart around in the darkness, your hand reaches out until you feel his leather glove touch your hand.

You let out a sigh of relief as you intertwine your fingers with his to pull him closer, “I know why you’re here. I’ve made up my mind, I want to see you.” You can feel his presence in front of you which makes you lean forward to rest your head against his armor.

His large hand pets your head and plays with your hair. Happiness his radiating from him but he isn’t showing it on the outside. “Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.” His voice is soft but still raspy.

“Only on one condition...” Your arms snake around his hips to hold him in place, “You cannot bring anybody else with you. We can’t meet the base so I’ll find a meeting spot in the jungle where you can park your ship.” You mumble into his clothing.

“Jungle?” He questions as his hand lifts your face up by your chin, you can barely see the outline of his body. “Where are you, my love?”

The nickname sends chills across your skin, “Ajan Kloss. The moon.” You breathe out. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that but you’re desperate. It’s been too long since you have last seen him in person.

“Give me coordinates to your ‘meeting spot’ and I’ll come to you.” He leans down to capture your lips in his before he disappears. His solid form leaving you abruptly almost makes you topple over. “Fuck.” You curse at yourself.

You rest your elbows against your knees so you could put your face in your hands. Maybe you did the wrong thing but honestly, there’s a part of you that doesn’t care if he brings back up with him.

You love him so much. You don’t know how you’re going to react when you see him in person. It’s going to be overwhelming.

You lay back down under your blankets, tucking yourself into them so you could attempt to fall asleep again.

In the morning, you wake up bright and early. You pull your bed head into a top knot and get some clothes on that’ll keep you cool during the day. Not being able to see Poe today is going to be hard but you’ve made up your mind. You grab your saber and clip it to your belt.

When you step off the ship, it seems like everyone else is going to wake up much later than you. You realize it’s barely even bright outside yet. “I guess this gives me a chance to go find a spot.” You whisper to yourself.

Your eyes scan the cave, seeing a light on in the command center which makes you creep forward silently. It’s Poe, he’s working on something. You admire him from the shadows before you’re interrupted by Kaydel walking in to see him. She kisses him and clings onto his back like a baby monkey.

You feel a pang of jealousy in your chest even though you don’t deserve to feel that.

You make your presence evident as you walk up to the food area next to the command center to grab yourself a portion. You rip open the package with your teeth and take the pre-made muffin out to eat it.

You turn around to see them both staring at you, then Poe quickly averts his gaze but Kaydel gives you a dirty look before she kisses the back of his neck purposely.

You scoff and walk away towards the exit of the cave. You grab a map out of your back pocket, looking over the trees. You hold the muffin in your mouth as your finger drags across the paper. You spot an opening in the trees. It’s far but you can make it. You fold it back up and put it back into your pocket before you disappear into the foliage.

It’s muggy and buggy and hot. The wind is cool which helps with the sweat building up on your forehead. You’ll have to meet him at night when it’s cooler. You refuse to be this sweaty when you see him.

You see the sunlight passing through the trees and hitting the large empty patch of grass. It’s perfect.

Kylo’s ship would fit perfectly and he’s a good pilot. You notice that there are torches on the trees, obviously not lit because they’re old. Must’ve been from the old inhabitants of this moon. You open your map again to mark the coordinates down before you head back to the base.

When you get back, mostly everybody is up and working now. Some people glance at you as you emerge from the trees, you see Poe working on his X-wing with BB-8.

You need to talk to him about everything.

Your boots move quickly against the pavement as you make your way to him. You stop behind him, he knows it’s you.

“Poe. We need to talk.” Your voice is stern, he lets out a small laugh and doesn’t turn around to talk to you. “Seems like you got everything you needed to get out last night.” He grumbles.

You cross your arms over your chest, “I’m being serious, Dameron. We need to talk.”

He whips his head around and stands up tall which forces you to look up at him. “Listen, you broke my fucking heart. I know why too. It’s about him. It’s always going to be about him, always.” His voice raises slightly.

“It is going to be him. I have a bond with him like nobody else. He saved me when the Resistance left me. He showed me mercy when he wasn’t supposed to. I had his children, Poe.” You’re starting to get upset.

“But can’t you just co-parent from different planets? You don’t have to be his little ‘apprentice’ anymore. I want you to be mine, only mine. I fucking care for you. I’m always there for you. Where is he?” His voice cracks during the last words. Tears rush to your eyes, your bottom lip trembles.

His hands grip your hips as he pulls you close to smash your lips together. At first, you don’t want to do this but you can’t help yourself. Your fingers tangle themselves in his thick hair as his tongue gently slips past your bottom lip.

“Get a room.” Finn laughs as he walks by, some other crew members chuckle too and BB-8 makes a whistling sound.

You both quickly pull away from each other when you realize that there are other people around. Your face instantly flushes pink, you take a step back to widen the distance between you and him.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” Poe looks down at his feet, “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” You sheepishly mumble back. Poe hesitatingly reaches out to grab your hand, “I know you’re going through a lot. It’s difficult. I could only imagine how you torn you feel. If you don’t want a relationship right now, I get it. We can just be... friends.” He gives you a one-sided smile. You know that it hurt him to say that. “Maybe a little bit more.” He adds on with a chuckle, “Only if you want to, of course.”

He pulls you into a bear hug, his arms wrap around you and his chin rests on top of yours. You snuggle into his chest, taking in his scent, he goes to say something to you but it falls silent to your ears.

Oh no. It’s Kylo.

You quickly pull away from Poe, your head frantically turns and looks around for him. “The pilot... again?” His voice echoes in your head, “I know you’re lonely. I don’t blame you.” His voice is cold.

“I have to go.” You say to Poe and begin walking towards his voice.

“You haven’t gotten intimate with him, have you?” He probes your mind, “Ah, you haven’t.” He almost days proudly, you know he’s smirking.

“Where are you?” You whisper-yell out as you begin to search the base. “I’m not projecting myself through the Force. I’m just in your head.” His words halt your movement. Poe must’ve been following you because you can feel his hands go onto your shoulders.

“Give me the coordinates. I know you have them. I’ll come to you. Just me.” His voice is so persuasive. You squeeze your eyes shut and send the coordinates with your voice through the Force.

“Good girl.” Kylo grins, “I promise you. It’s only going to be me. I won’t break any of my promises to you. Ever.” He cuts the connection off.

You take a deep breath to center yourself back into reality. Poe’s strong hands are gently rubbing your shoulders in comfort, “Hey. Are you okay?” He says into your ear.

“No, I mean yes.” You shake your head and gulp. You turn around quickly and smash your lips against Poe’s, both of your hands are on his cheeks.

“Thank you for being you.” You whisper against his lips before pulling away again. You look into his puppy dog brown eyes before you run the opposite way towards the cave.

You dart between people, twirling out of the way so you wouldn’t hit them. You spot Leia with the twins, “Hey. I’m gonna take them okay? I miss them. Thanks!” You scoop them up from their little play-mat to position them on your hips.

Before Leia could say anything, you’re running the opposite way back to your room. You left too late to see what Leia says and she seems worried for you, “Somebody go keep an eye on her. Tell me wherever she goes.”

Well, that’s going to mess up your plans.

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