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lameghost · 3 years

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Scream blue murder.

Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]

word count - 2,538

💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima

Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.

[part 1] [part 2]

“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.

Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.

“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.

“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.

“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .

“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”

“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.

“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.

“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.

“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.

“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.

“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.

“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.

“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.

“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.

“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.

“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.

Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’

“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.

“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.

“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.

“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”

“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.

“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”

You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.

“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.

“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.

‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.

‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’

You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”

“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’

“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.

“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.

You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.

You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.

“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.

“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.

You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.

“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.

“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.

“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.

“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.

“Y-yes, your honour!”

“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.

“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.

“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.

“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.

“Born and bred to do this shit.”

You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-

“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.

“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.

“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.

“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”

“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)

“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse.

‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

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Kaz Brekker x fem! Reader - The Saints Of Freedom

(Gif not mine)

A/n: So this just came up into my head... There's going to be so much Shadow and bone content I'm just saying in advance - I'm so sorry! Also Matthias is alive!

Warnings: Sexual abuse, abuse, harassment, angst, fluff, terrible men, death, blood, language I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Some man from the Crow Club wants a good time with you

I take a sip of my water, sighing. Inej and Kaz are in the corner talking to each other, like they never broke up. Wylan and Jesper are in a couple seats over from me joking with each other like their lives depend on it. And Nina and Matthias are in a both in back, Nina trying to get Matthias to kiss her while he's trying to be decent. Apparently.

Why did I have to fall for the Bastard of the Barrel?

I shift around on my bar stool a bit so I can listen in on a conversation.

"Let's play a round of strip poker boys!" I flinch, nope not happening.

I guess I never really fell in love with Kaz, I drowned for him. Him and all his terrible ways and his broken mindset, I drown in that. I yearn for that death in an ocean of Kaz Brekker. Wanting that kills me, slowly although.

"James! Go get some Chicks!" I stiffen up and start to get out of my seat. I gracefully like a snake avoid anyone in the crowd slipping into the darkness acting as just another man looking for it's prey.

That way you go unnoticed.

A hand grabs me and forcefully drags me away from the entrance. Damn it, I was so close. I am harshly turned towards the person who dragged me away from my freedom. A shiver runs up my spine as a man with yellow teeth grins down on me. His left hand goes up and down my arm, while his right has a bruising grip on me.

"Your gonna come play some poker with us aren't you little- Umm let me think." The man pretends to think for a second

"Ah! Your a fawn!"

I freeze.

That's what my father called me when he use to rap-

Don't think about that you need to try and make up a plan to get out of here!

I realize that I'm dragged all the way to the back where a table is, too late.

"Come on girly, we want some." The monster says.

"Now." He growls.

I shake my head trying to get the thoughts out of my head from my home life. I can't kill them because their good pigeons to the Crow Club. But I can injury them if necessary.

"Your not even going to tell your name?" I look up to the man who dragged me over here, knowing that he's going to get me and will be the only one to get me. He got his prey now the others get to watch.

"It's James pretty girl, and take your pants and panties off now, if I win you'll get to keep em." The men around the table chuckle in delight knowing what will happen - he will try to loose.

"And if you don't?" I cheer myself on internally for not loosing it and keeping my voice strong. Stall, it's the best thing you get do.

"We really start playing poker than."

Lies. I hiss in my head, once my pussy is out he will do what ever he wants with me.

I place a hand on his arm, stall Y/n, stall.

"When does the game end?" I lean in and whisper into his ear like I'm trying to seduce him. Bile rise's up from my throat but I shallow it back down but then I realize it makes me seem like I'm nervous. Shit. He seems to have picked up on that though and he likes it. It means he has control.

His hand goes to my thigh.

"As long as I want." He pulls me onto to him and I struggle out of his grip. Five other men come and hold me down on the table. I attempt to wrestle them all and I almost get out, but two other monsters come up and hold me down.

"Let's give them a show boys!"

Tears gather up in my eyes.

"Monsters." I hiss at the men. One with blond hair punches my arm with the bed of his fist and a small scream is with drawled from my throat as I hear it... Crack! Fuck, it's definitely broken.

"You can't break a girl that's already been broken, you'll only get cut." I rasp my voice quiet but very, very angry.

"You litt-" He gets cut off from the other man who brought me to this torture.

"Gather round! People, gather round! Let's see what we can do to this pretty little fawn here?" The man - James says as he places a hand on my stomach. Mostly horrid men gather around the table but the odd woman is here too, probably the dumb ones. As soon as the predator got it's prey you run.

So your not it's next meal.

Struggling to try and get out of the men's grip on me, but it's hopeless. They have two on each limb of my body holding me down.

"Come on little fawn, it's time to play." The man whispers into my ear.

Memories flood into my sense's of my father. Doing terrible, terrible things to me. Marking me. Tainting me, as I learned not to scream anymore so mother wouldn't beat the crap out of me because if he couldn't get me - he got her.

The barbaric beast crawls onto me surely leaving bruise's and his hand goes to lift up my shirt and-

BANG! He's on the floor bloodied from where something hit his face. Hard.

The other men don't try and stop whoever hit the other vile man to the floor. I almost don't open my eyes to see who might be my savoir in fear that they just might want some.

I open my eyes.

Kaz! I think and I nearly sigh in relief.

"Let her go." Kaz says dangerously low and calm and the men practically drop me on the table.

Kaz's cane is still on the table as I sit up. Hi cane is pointed towards the men in question and at this point the other man starts to get up. Kaz nods to Jesper and Inej and she smiles a bit, always a pleasure to hurt some nasty men. Matthias seems to be guarding to doorway so now one can get out and Nina seems to go help Inej and Jesper as Wylan goes help Matthias with the door. Demo at the entrance, nice.

Kaz holds out a gloved hand, I take it and stand up next to him and at the angle we're at I'm pressed up against him.

"Come on little fawn." My father opens the door to my room slowly with a sadistic smile on his face.

"But fath-"

He lifts me up by hair and the cry of pain that would come from a normal child did not come, for they had not been train to be solider at seven.

"We don't call me that when it's play time. You know that." He growls as his hands start pulling off my shirt.

"Yes master." He takes my shirt off and h-

"Y/n." I voice says and I open my eyes and they lock onto some dark brown eyes. "Would you like to do the honours?" A voice rasps. I realize that Kaz is referring to the seven men lined up, held up my Nina, Inej, and Jesper and with some help from Wylan who has a grenade out to scare them.

I feel myself fade away like a I'm ghost.

Come on Y/n, be a good little fawn.

No. I think and push the memories back.

I go to the first three and I simply cut their throats with my double sided daggers. A man laughs and I swiftly turn. I then stab one in the stomach, the one who laughed while I killed the others. He howls in pain, I then simply kill him and the others till it's just the last one left. The monster. The one who dragged me away like a sack of kruge. Like I was a prize for him.

A ballistic smile creeps up on his face like he was paper and someone was drawing my nightmares.

It's my brother.

My brother who has the same smile as my dad, the brother who made fun of me at school, the brother who helped mom and beat me on his own accords as well. The brother who toke after our father in every way.

"You won't kill me." James smiles.

"You won't kill me." My brother says as I pull out a knife with serpent around it's handle.

"You still love me, I'm your brother." I drop the knife and he see's it as his chance and strikes.

The knives shake in my hands but I put them away.

"See." He chuckles like he knew what would happen. Imbecile.

"Your doing it wrong." Kaz limps up to me, the familiar pace of his cane hitting the floor. "You need to have a reason."

"I thought you didn't need one?" I sigh in disappointment of doing it the wrong way. Again. Kaz stares at me for a couple of seconds then shakes his head slightly like he's trying to clear his mind.

"No. You need a reason behind why we're here."

My brows frown in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Limping closer to me he places a hand on my shoulder.

"Why are you here?"

He walks back a bit giving me space to do my work. I suck in a deep breath, why am I here?

I release my weapon, an extension of myself and it doesn't hit the traget.

A man hits the ground with a thud, the man who tried to get a night with me yesterday is dead right on the ground. The blade embedded inside his chest and the snake sticking out.

Checkmate.

Kaz flash's me a smile but I barley catch it and it's gone in a blink.

"Good, not what do you want to be called?"

"Serpent." I whisper as I look up into his eyes.

"The Serpent."

I take out my knife with a snake around it's hilt always looking like it's moving and ready to strike.

Why are you here.

I close my eyes and it's done in a flash.

His ankles and hands are severed off and they drop to the floor like their separate bodies.

I lean in and whisper into his ear.

"The Serpent as struck and it seems." I grin a little.

"She has not granted you the mercy of death."

I lean in closer so only he can hear as he howls out in pain.

"Eight years." I breath. I come back up and turn swiftly out of the Crow Club shoving past Matthias who looks to be horrified but I don't know beause he did survive hellgate.

I stumble into an alleyway and I grip onto the brick wall.

The wolf is no more.

Streaming down my face tears flood my vision as I weep for all the pain, for all the years of torture finally the last one of them is dead.

Thump. Thump.

I hear the rhythmic of the crow cane but it seems to stop.

I lift my head up.

Kaz.

"Breath Y/n." I gasp in a breath and I stumble forward into his arms. I tense up and-

"Come on sister time to be a..."

"I'm not him." He whispers and it pulls me back into reality like an anchor.

He goes to try and touch my face but he stops midway and takes his gloves off. He touches his ungloved hand to my face and I can feel myself losing him to the past.

Think, Y/n! Think! He helped you, he saved you from everything! From your retched family, from the men today! He made it so you could defend yourself! He-

"Sankta Kaz." I blurt.

His eyes snap open and goes to back away.

"No, no, no! You can't possibly think of me as a saint!"

Normally I would be discomposed and would already be running out from embarrassment but a weird calmness wash's over me and a strange sort of serenity makes me want to go swimming.

"You may not be a saint to them." I point out behind him even though there's no people.

"But to me..." I pause trying to find the right words.

"You are my savoir. You saved me from my family." I walk up to him. "You killed my father and mother." I keep on walking closer. "You saved me from myself, you saved me today, and..." I trail off realizing how close we are.

I look into those dark eyes and I barely breath out,

"You gave me freedom."

I hesitantly warp my arms around him and he stiffens up but he relax's in my embrace. Our face's get closer and closer then-

"Why are you here?" It's the question he asked when I first learned how to throw a knife: What do you want?

"I am here because..." I trail off trying to find the words.

"I am here because of the kids." A new found confidence builds up in my chest.

"I am here to help the children safe from their abusive homes. I will help the children of Ketterdam." A fire of passion ignites in me making me bold.

"Will you help me?" The words hang in the air and Kaz looks into my eyes with a calculating gaze.

"I run a gang Y/n." I go to look away my face burning with embarrassment.

"But..." He takes my face into his hands.

"This Bastard can do both I guess." I grin in happiness and our faces finally get closer and we kiss.

Lightning crash's through me but I think of Kaz and our friends. Our lips shift together and I realize now that...

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning in Kaz, I'm absolutely deep into the ocean, falling but never rising. I just keep on going deeper and deeper till I pull away.

We pull away and I feel like a wave just crashed into me Kaz smiled and I whisper;

"Sankta Kaz."

Sankta Kaz the saint of greed. Sankta Y/n the saint of suffering. Together they are the saints of freedom.

Words 2383

-thedelusionreaderbitch

All rights go to Leigh Bardugo, Netflix and you! I just own the plot!

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #kaz rietveld #kaz brekker #x reader #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias hevlar #shadow and bone #fanfiction #oneshot

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honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Homeward Bound

A/N: This was NOT meant to be this long...but I was inspired and now we have this... dad!Syverson....you can thank me later :)

Warnings: army-related talk, labour, fluff (because i rue the day I actually write anything other than that)

After an honourable stint, Captain Syverson had finally finished up his active duty in the army, having chosen now to spend his life devoted and committed to you. While every second week he had to make a daily 45 minute commute up the road to train newbies needing a boot up their asses to prepare for the realities of war, Sy was able to come home to you just in time for dinner every evening. He got the best of both worlds, earning a solid pay with training up new recruits, and having the ability to make good on those promises he made you way back before he told you that the next tour would be his last.

He had kept his first promise within a month of him returning for good - giving you a shiny ring that he’d had the deposit down on for as long as he can remember. That was his most nerve-wracking promise to keep, even though you’d assured him no matter what, the answer would always be a “yes”. His second promise was also signed, sealed, and delivered within weeks of his return, most likely conceived in celebration of your engagement.

That promise had stuck with you a little more than the first; “Gonna put a baby in ya, peach. Can promise ya that I’m ready for wantin that with ya.”

Sy had arrived home in October, and there you were, round and ready to pop at the end of the following August.

During your labour on that warm summer’s day, he’d been gritting it out right beside you, clutching your hand and holding your half full cup of ice chips, using his best Captain voice in offering encouragement. Between contractions you had cried, screeched, and panicked. It had seemed Sy had given you the big baby he had been so certain of.

“Your baby’s too big Syv, it hurts so much...”

“Peach believe me, if I could I’d take all this pain for ya I would” he had comforted you, knowing by making eye contact that he meant every word. You had relaxed momentarily at the love you held for him, before the pain hit again leaving you crying and screaming once more.

And then Captain Syverson heard the words that he detests, typically uttered from his soldiers in the base camps or training rounds.

“I can’t...”

It’s a cowards way of thinking, a poor outlook on life, and it makes the entire side weak because of one weak link. It angers him to no end, and he usually ends up heading off alone to clear his head. But not when it’s you

“I can’t do it, Sy...”

You’re the strongest person he knows, pushing out a brand new Syverson into the world with minimal medication and a steely determination for the past 14 hours. You’re no coward, and you’re by no means weak. He’s had men on his side who haven’t blinked in the face of adversity and terrorism, and yet here you were, stronger than the lot of them in every way.

“Yeah you can, peach. Ya think I’d put my baby in any ol’ fool? No it’s you, ‘cause you’re the strongest woman I know. C’mon now, let’s have us a baby.”

And then you did it, almost an hour later and she’s earth-side. As the sun had set on the last day of a sweltering August, it is as though the room cools to a warm breeze, the world stopping in its tracks as you birth your sweet baby Syverson, born in the first minutes of a new September. She’s all yours, and when the doctor announced above the primal, wild screams that “it’s a girl!” you’d looked to Sy, watching him as he cried. It was just a couple of tears, and he won’t admit that they happened, but it sure as hell doesn’t make him any less proud.

You’ve only been cooped up in the room for 24 hours, and while you and baby Syverson have been cared for and helped with the basics (along with you receiving a substantial amount of pain relief), Sy wanted you and his baby girl home so that he could be the one to take care of you both; plump your pillows, fetch you cups of tea, burp the baby, dote on her endlessly. All within the quiet, cosy home you’d made together over the past years and months. Pictures lined the walls, featuring happy memories including your courthouse wedding that had been planned and occurred within a week of knowing about baby Sy. Your big gruff man just couldn’t take not having you as his wife, especially when you were carrying his child.

There’d also been a picture of the sonogram taped to the fridge in your quaint little kitchen, courtesy of Sy wanting to see the baby each morning before heading to work, or while he cooked you a warm breakfast. It’s as though he didn't keep updated pictures in his wallet and in his truck, right next to a beautiful picture of you. From your first sonogram with “SYVERSON” printed at the top, Sy loved to see his growing family, and always taped the newest scan picture right on top, using the same piece of tape he’d just found laying around one afternoon. Now, after plenty of pictures taken on his phone, he was going to update the fridge once more to feature a picture of the little pink squish with big bug eyes and a smattering of dusty brown hair. Maybe he’ll add some new tape, too.

Now three Syversons would live in this home, where old caps, worn from war and still grimy after a couple of washes, lay around the house, and where a still somewhat-tinged green Aika would roam freely - except on the bed. Sy was adamant that Aika never jumped or slept on the marital bed. That was his place, with his woman. The wooden interior and cosy fireplace that Sy himself had built, made it an even more homely and special place for you both to live. The perfect place out in the country to raise your girl. 45 minutes from Sy’s work, 15 to the local school. It was a dream, and now it had come true, as you watch him lift your princess into the baby carrier, fastening her in and watching her little pouty face as he removes his large, warm hands that you know she must adore being held by already.

He’s so glad that he can now take you both home. He insists on carrying both the baby carrier and the hospital bag from the past few days as you both leave the room where your girl entered the world, now entering the real world and all the opportunities she would have out there to explore. Since you don’t have to lift a thing, you just get to watch the sweet view of the “scary” Captain Sy check things off mentally to make sure you've brought everything.

“As long as we bring the baby home, I think we’ll be okay” you grin, and he blinks out of his organised, battle-ready mindset for a moment, remembering that this wasn’t some covert operation. This was a big deal, but one that is exciting and new and as Sy turns to look at his daughter again, it seems he’s already forgotten how tiny she is. She’s wrapped up, but Sy insists that he wraps the carrier with his flannel top, protecting the baby from both the sun, and any chill that pierces the air. He can’t resist a final little peek into the baby carrier as you sign the final documents to discharge you both from the hospital. You even hear him talk to your sweet girl, having one of their first little talks together.

“i’ll show ya a real home, just wait. Nun’a this bright light and doctors nonsense. Got a crib with your name on it ya can be all cosy in. Built it myself while Momma watched. You are gonna be so loved up with her, she is everything sweet in the world. Just like you princess.”

“I thought i was your princess?” you interrupt him and...is that a blush you see mark his cheeks? If only his men knew the state you could get the great Captain Syverson into, and most likely that your baby girl will be able to as well.

“You’ve been promoted peach, after all that giving birth to her, you’re a queen among peasants. I got two number 1 gals now. Gotta be ya knight in shinin’ armour.”

All the war torn memories, the killing, and the violence from his past, doesn’t mean a thing. It baffles him to this day - he still doesn't know how he’s ended up with two slices of heaven in you and your baby girl, but he’s selfish and he’s keeping you all for himself.

“You can be a Captain to your men but you’re our King, Sy. I know you’ll always protect us, and she’ll grow up knowing that too. Now come on. Let’s get her out of here. Lead the way Daddy?” you grin, watching as he proudly marches through the doors of the ward with a tight grip on the baby carrier, while the bag is slung over his shoulder.

The rest of his life with you and baby Syverson, just waiting on the other side.

taglist: @seriouslygoodlookinggents @ohmygoodie

#henry cavill x reader #captain syverson x reader #captain sy x reader #syverson x reader #dad!syverson #dad!sy #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

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arduadastra · 3 years

Note

Can I request an imagine where Oberyn and wife(reader) where the reader has his first son(aka his heir).💕

My first Oberyn request! I was beyond thrilled to write this. It’s been a while since I’ve seen GoT so I hope I got the vibe right and you enjoy this!

Send me something! I write for Din, Whiskey, Javi, Oberyn, Max P, Frankie and Ezra <3

TW: mentions of pregnancy, labour and birth.

You thought pregnancy was hard. The foot pain, the sleepless nights, the constant urge to pee?

You’d take that all back if it meant this would just stop.

Nine hours in and still nothing, the pain was unbearable and you could sense your husbands worry from across the room. He was constantly barking orders at the healers by your bedside and paced back and forth at the end of the bed, mumbling to himself.

He had refused to leave, thankfully, and while he was brilliant support you just needed him to stop fucking pacing for five seconds.

“Oberyn? Can you come here?”

He looks up and rushes to you, grabbing your hand in a tight squeeze, “Yes, my sweet?”

You squeeze back just as another contraction hits, “Oh fuck me!”

He laughs, “I don’t think now is the best time my love.”

You groan as it subsides and you turn back to him, “No no, can you just stay here? Watching you move around so much is making my head spin and I have enough going on as it is.”

He kisses your knuckles and nods, “Of course, I just hate seeing you like this. I wish there was something I could do.”

You can’t help but bite back, “I think you’ve done enough” and promptly cry out as a particularly hard contraction takes over your body.

The maester pulls the sheet back and claps suddenly, making you jolt up the bed and Oberyn scowl, “What?!”

“You’re ready to push ma’am.”

Oberyn laughs when you exclaim, “Finally!” also seeming pleased he doesn’t have to watch you in pain anymore. You thank the gods, it's nearly over but here comes the hard part.

“Okay on the next contraction, I need you to push.”

You nod and bare down as it hits, squeezing Oberyn’s hand all the while with such a force even the red viper winces at the pain.

You pant as the maester looks back, “Okay, I see the head! Keep going!”

You curl forward and scream as a searing pain tears at your insides and you hear Oberyn calling to you, “That’s it, so strong, so brave, keep going, you’ve got this” and just when you think you can’t take anymore you hear it.

A cry.

You open your eyes to the sound and nearly sob in relief, a squirming baby is now held up in the masters arms and your eyes widen when you hear him say, “It’s a boy!”

You can’t believe it. A boy?

The maester passes your son to you and you collapse back onto the bed with your newborn on your chest.

You look to Oberyn and he’s just sat there. Staring at the mewling infant on your chest. It’s like he can’t comprehend what the maester said, what he’s looking at.

“Oberyn, you have a son.”

His eyes immediately fill with tears as he catches your eyes, “I have a son. You gave me a son.”

He lets out a watery chuckle before looking back at the room, seemingly remembering he has an audience, “Go! Leave us.”

People rush out, bowing their heads as they congratulate you both before closing the doors behind them.

Once the room empties, you scootch across the bed and he climbs on next to you. You cradle your son in your arms before passing him slowly to Oberyn, caressing the soft dark hair on his head as you do.

“He’s beautiful.”

Oberyn nods, eyes now stuck on his son, his first son, “He’s perfect."

You stare at them as he slowly raises his eyes back to you, “You have given me something no-one else ever has.” He leans forward and kisses you, so soft you’d think he was worried you’d break, “You’re incredible.”

You laugh, “Well we both made him, I can’t take all the credit.”

He chuckles and runs his finger down his sons face, “I love all my children and I am beyond blessed to have so many but I think I’ll have a soft spot for you little one.”

You grin and shift, wincing as you remember just how that little one came into the world, “Not so little Oberyn.”

He laughs and slowly passes your son back to you and you kiss his forehead once he’s back in your arms.

Suddenly you gasp, “We need a name! I haven’t even thought of names!” You look back to your husband and see him grinning at your panic, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t think about it until I saw him.”

Oberyn presses closer to your side and kisses your shoulder, “I want you to choose it, we may have made him together but you did all the hard work.”

You look down at your sons face then back to your husband. You had an idea actually, you had for a while but you didn’t want to upset your prince, “Well I have a suggestion and I know it's not conventional but the name works for both boys and girls and well…” He urges you on so you say it.

“What about Elia?”

Oberyn sucks in a sharp breath.

“Or something similar!” You backtrack, "I like Eliah? Sounds like Elijah? I just thought it’s a way to honour your sister. He’s your heir and he needs a special name. I never got to meet her but I know she was important to you and now it’s like she can live on through him.”

You look back down at your son and smile as he smacks his lips together, “I think he likes it."

Oberyn has his hands clasped in front of him as he looks down at the bedspread, his eyes are shut and his jaw is tense. You bring a hand to his shoulder and squeeze and he opens his eyes at it and you gasp as a tear runs down his face.

“Oberyn I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-“

He cuts you off with a kiss, much harder than before and you feel the wet tracks of his tears across your own cheeks as he murmurs, “My sweet, what did I do to deserve you? I have done such terrible things in my life but yet here you are. Naming our son after someone you have never met, wanting to honour my sister?” He laughs, “You are everything to me."

He looks down at your son then back to you, eyes shining with pride and love, “I love it. My sister would be honoured to share her name with him.”

You cup his jaw and thumb his beard, smiling as he echoes one back to you. You drop your gaze to your son and rest your head on Oberyn’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the world, Elia.”

#i did this #this poured out of me #i couldn't stop it #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn fanfic #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

Note

Could you write something based on this prompt Dick x reader! villain "I hope we never get to see each other again."

Dangerous People

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault and miscarriage. Extremely sensitive themes here, please don't read if you are triggered by such topics.

Word Count: 1.8K

Dick used to think the most dangerous people were the ones who had no morals. The people who did the dirtiest of things and had no way of redemption because there's a piece of stone where their heart should be.

He had seen it a million times over when he was Robin and then Nightwing. It had been that kind of person who took away his parents and he would learn it was the very same kind that took yours.

Detective Grayson met you one rainy night in November when you were brought into the police station in Bludhaven, cold and shivering. Tears were pouring down your face and you looked sick.

He would later come to find that night that your parents were killed by a man named Black. You told him all that you could, insisting that it was him and that they should arrest him.

As much as Dick wanted to, he couldn't just pick up a man and put him behind bars, not without evidence. Although he did promise that he would try his best to put him away. Dick could see the comfort that his words brought you.

The night he met you was also the night he slept with you. Not sex. Just sleep.

He had offered to drive you back home but you just shook your head in tears, saying that you couldn't go back home where your parents had just been murdered. And that you didn't have any money to stay at a hotel.

It was no secret that Dick had a bleeding heart, so when he saw your red and puffy eyes staring up at him, he quickly offered up his apartment for you to sleep in that night.

He took you home, and made you take a nice, hot shower before bundling you up in his spare clothes and letting you take the bed.

You repaid him the next morning by cooking him breakfast.

Thus, began the start of a beautiful relationship.

You panted, breath stuttering in your chest as Dick trailed kisses down your neck. Your fingers were carding through his hair, twitching and tugging at the roots every time his teeth grazed your sweet spot.

He held your hips to his body with a tight grip. He met your lips again with an open-mouthed kiss that swallowed your moans when his hands cupped your chest.

"I'm crazy about you..." Dick whispered underneath his breath when you cupped his cheeks. Your eyes fluttered open to see him watching you with deep blue eyes. You knew what he wanted to say, you felt it.

You kissed him again, slow and soft, conveying everything you could possibly be feeling.

"I love you too."

Falling for you made Dick want to capture Black even more. He knew of the kind of trauma that followed you throughout your life unless you got the closure you needed, so he poured his heart out into finding the man who robbed you of your family in one night.

But he was good, scary good. There was no evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA samples. No witnesses, other than you. But that wasn't enough.

He had known just how to avoid all the cameras and had left the weapon at the scene of the crime, a knife from your kitchen.

Dick felt helpless, he wanted so badly to be able to find this man and arrest him for your sake. He felt like a failure every time he would see the look of disappointment on your face when he said there were no leads.

So, he decided to go into his background. Black, a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was a shareholder of your parents’ company and Dick wondered if there was something behind the scenes that made him want to kill your mother and father.

But none of it made sense, according to the contracts that each of them signed, in the case of a death then there was no possible way for him to get his hands on your parents’ shares. It was already enlisted to you. And Black had known about it.

So why try and murder your parents when it wouldn't have benefitted him in any way. Could it have been out of anger? In the spur of the moment? No, everything looked too well planned for that.

It was then he got a call from another detective. They got an anonymous tip that there was evidence found at the scene. He immediately went over there only to realize there was something wrong.

The footprints were even, too even. It was unusual that there was equal pressure at all parts of his sole. The cigarette lighter underneath the table was empty.

He had been so sure that he had looked over the place so carefully. How could he have missed the obvious footprint in the carpet and the lighter under the table?

It was then his partner mused that the evidence was fabricated and that Black wasn't the real culprit. That someone was trying to frame him.

And then everything made sense.

***

Dick’s heart pounded in his ears as he ran. Never in his life did the Nightwing suit ever feel so strained against his body. He felt like his chest was being compressed and each breath was harder and harder to take. Still, he pumped his legs until they ached painfully as he ran faster to you.

His head throbbed against his skull with the information he just learnt.

His eyes skimmed over all the words in your file and his heart rate picked up. He couldn't believe there had been so much information that he had overlooked before, simply trusting your words.

It was such an amateur move that he was surprised with himself. How could he have trusted you so blindly without verifying it?

As he read the file, his heart began clenching in his chest. With each word it was getting harder to breath.

You were the victim of a sexual crime case, that was left incomplete, the name of the suspect was censored. The next paper was another case, you were the victim of a planned mugging, it stated that you sustained injuries. The one after that was a medical report, a miscarriage.

Everything started making sense. The puzzle pieces started fitting in his head. The name of your assaulter was censored because he was a major shareholder of the company and partners with your parents. The mugging was planned so that you couldn't get a paternal test done.

Your parents and Black conspired against you. They made you hold their burdens so that their sins wouldn't be revealed.

When he got home to find the door wide open, his blood froze in his veins. He rushed through the apartment to find that it was empty, you had left in a hurry. He needed to find you, especially when he realized one thing.

His Glock was missing.

Dick swallowed roughly when he saw you, jumping across the roof until he was only one building away from you.

“(Y/N) don’t do it!” He shouted, as if you would actually listen but he still bounded across the gap between you, hand coming to wrap around the gun you were holding to deflect the shot against the ground.

The sound resonated through the area and his ears began ringing but he paid no heed, quickly disarming you and throwing away the gun in your hand. You struggled in his grip, screaming and kicking at him before you resorted to roughly elbow him in the face.

He let go of you, feeling pain and stumbling back but made sure that to get to the gun you’re have to go through him first.

You were new at this, you didn’t bother to assess the situation or even try to combat him again before you were lurching for the gun that lay abandoned at his feet and he tackled you, trying to stop your struggling as you rolled around on the rough concrete of the roof.

“(Y/N) wait!”

“No!” You screamed, voice thick with tears, “No more waiting! That monster doesn’t deserve to live for even a second longer!”

You thrashed in his grip, reaching for the gun again and he grabbed your leg, dragging you back before you could wrap your fingers around it.

"Please! Just stop and listen for a second! For me!" He pleaded but you started sobbing when he pinned you down and you realized you couldn't move.

When you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, he couldn't help his own that began falling from his eyes.

"You know what he did to me. You know what they did!" You cried, "So, why are you stopping me?!"

"It isn't right, (Y/N). You can't do this! If you do then you're just as bad as them." His grip on your wrists got tighter, as if scared you would try to pull away again.

"It's too late for me." You told him, "My parents are already dead. I did it."

He knew that. But he wished he didn't have to hear it. You made a mistake, a decision, that couldn't be reversed. And you would have to live with it for the rest of the life.

"I'll let you go." He whispered. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew that he was going against his morals but still, he couldn't be the one to take you to prison.

You immediately stopped squirming, shocked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest; he was willing to let you go? After everything you did you him?

He pulled away, not moving from his place on the floor. Dick looked at you one last time and your throat closed at the sight of his heartbroken gaze.

"I hope we never get to see each other again." He choked out, voice strained and you screwed your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, one last time, but you knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. You weren't going to disappoint him one more time that night.

"Good bye." You whispered, turning around and leaving. It would be the last time Dick would ever see you.

It was that night that Dick realized that the most dangerous people were those who had nothing left to lose. And his heart would break even more when he realized that you never considered him yours to lose.

He never even got to tell you he loved you.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

#Dick grayson x reader #Dick grayson imagine #Dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson headcanon #young justice x reader #Young justice imagine #Young justice headcanon #young justice #nightwing x reader #yj x reader #titans imagine #Dc titans #Titans dick grayson x reader #young justice dick grayson x reader #Dc x reader

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alexthedrummerboy · 3 years

Text

work-in-progress wednesday!!

so in honour of wip wednesday and JATP fanworks week, i wanted to post the first lil scene from the bobby daddy au i’ve been prattling on about!! 👀 it’s something i’m really quite proud of and i’d love to talk about it more if anyone was curious!!

essentially: one night a baby carrier and a duffel bag get left at bobby, luke, reggie, and alex’s door. turns out, the baby is bobby’s daughter - a consequence of a one night stand gone wrong. now the four of them have to navigate being college students, being in a band, and raising a six-month-old that seemingly fell from the sky. (ft. willex juke and boggie 👀)

None of them expect it - that much is clear. They all just stand there… staring at it, wondering if it’ll just magically go away.

It doesn’t.

Or rather… she doesn’t.

“Dude, what is that?” Luke asks, peering from around Bobby’s shoulder.

“It’s a baby, Luke,” Alex says incredulously, though he’s no less confused. Luke smacks the back of Alex’s head.

“I know it’s a baby, dumbass,” he says. “What’s it doing here?”

Bobby squats down until he’s kneeling right over the carrier where a baby girl is sitting, asleep and snoring. There’s a card nestled in the folds of her dress so he plucks it out and unfolds it. He can feel all the blood leaving his face as he reads each word.

“Bobby?” Reggie asks quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Bobby blinks down at the paper before looking at the baby again - she’s so small with soft, wispy blonde hair and the tiniest hands and feet he’s ever seen. “She’s mine.”

“What do you mean ‘she’s yours’?” Alex asks. Bobby wordlessly hands him the notecard, never once tearing his eyes away from the baby. “‘Bobby, I’m sorry to tell you like this but I just can’t handle it. Her name is Carrie. Take care of her for me, Monica.’”

The four of them fall silent for a moment.

“Monica?” Reggie says finally after what feels like hours of silence. “Who’s that?”

“I… just some girl I hooked up with last year. She told me she was on the pill,” Bobby whispers, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, no you’re not,” Luke replies, placing a firm hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Shit like this happens, okay? Medical mishaps and stuff.”

“I think you’ve been watching too much Chicago Med,” Alex starts, “but Luke’s right. You’re not stupid.”

“What am I gonna do?” Bobby breathes, blinking rapidly to try and fight the tears that threaten to fall. “I-I can’t take care of a baby. I can barely take care of myself, I still don’t really know how to use the laundry machine!”

“Hey,” Luke says, bending down until he’s level with Bobby. He pats his cheek gently, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You won’t have to do this alone.”

“Yeah,” Reggie says, patting Bobby on the back. “You have us.”

Alex reaches out of the doorway to the small duffel bag sitting next to the carrier. He unzips it and peers inside, rifling around for a moment. “Hey, there’s some stuff in here,” he says. “Whoever this Monica chick was, she didn’t leave you hanging completely.”

Then, the baby - Carrie - does something that none of them were expecting. She opens her eyes, takes one look at the four of them, and starts wailing.

The noise is so loud, it could wake the dead. All four of them recoil, Luke clamping his hands firmly over his ears. “What’s it doing that for?!” he calls.

Bobby looks helplessly at her, hands hovering but not touching because oh god, she’s so small, what if he breaks her? “I don’t know!” he replies.

“Dude, take her inside and shut the door before we get another noise complaint!” Reggie says, backing away from the carrier.

Bobby carefully grips the handle of the baby carrier and lifts the screaming baby - Carrie, apparently - into the apartment, holding it almost a foot away from him as she wails. Luke quickly shuts the door and leans against it, eyes wide.

Carrie is still crying, her face turning pink and tears streaming down her face. Oh, God.

“What do I do?!” Bobby asks, looking around frantically at Luke, Reggie, and Alex - all of whom look incredibly out of their depth.

“Try picking her up!” Alex says. “She’s probably just scared!”

Bobby places the carrier on the coffee table and tries to unbuckle her safety belt but the stupid latch just will not budge. He knows he’s beginning to panic and he needs to calm down - but how else was he supposed to react five minutes after finding out he’s a father?!

A pair of hands brushes his away and quickly unlatches the buckle before picking Carrie up and bouncing her up and down. Bobby looks up to see Reggie cradling Carrie close, his left arm expertly cradled under her butt and her head leaning on his shoulder. Her cries calm down to slow whimpers as she rests her cheek against Reggie’s shoulder.

Bobby, Alex, and Luke all turn to Reggie, triplet looks of confusion and awe on their faces. Reggie raises his eyebrows, thumb gently rubbing the light, downy hair on Carrie’s head. “What?”

“Since when were you so good with kids?” Bobby asks breathlessly.

“Um… since always?” he says. “I practically raised my niece and nephew when my brother got deployed.”

“Oh,” Bobby replies weakly, dropping down into the armchair and rubbing his forehead. “Cool. Reggie’s a better father than I am to my own daughter.”

“You’ve been a father for less than three minutes, dude,” Alex says. “It’ll take some time.”

#julie and the phantoms #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #trevor wilson #alex mercer #Luke patterson #reggie peters #carrie wilson #jatp

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

Warnings: Angst, smut (a large amount of smut!), fluff but it’s sad, I’m sorry this one hurts. WC—+12K

A/N: Wow I can’t wait to get your feedback on this. BUCKLE UP!

34 ABY - Location Unknown - Aboard Star Destroyer ‘Finalizer’

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board,” A cold, modulated voice woke Poe from his troubled slumber—his pathetic attempt at rest, considering he was strapped upright, his hands and legs restrained from moving at all.

The First Order goons had been on him for hours before finally giving up, realizing with each slice into his skin or blow into his side that he only grinned wider. He wasn’t going to give up anything, even if they pulled his eyes from his head, and they seemed to understand that and left him alone, he wasn’t sure for how long now. He’d assumed they’d left him to die.

He tilted his head up, his neck protesting at the movement before his eyes landed on the figure across the dark room. The man was tall, covered from head to toe in black, his face covered by a dark helmet. The modulated, amused-sounding voice spoke again when Poe made no reply, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” He admitted, glaring even though he was curious as to who this new arrival was. He didn’t seem bothered by Poe’s sarcasm.

“I’m impressed,” The First Order man stepped closer to him as he spoke, “No one has been about to get out of you what you did with the map.”

Poe looked where he guessed the man’s eyes would be, “You might want to rethink your technique.” He challenged, his body tensing in preparation for whatever violence it was about to endure.

Only, the man reached up a gloved hand, palm open towards him. For a beat Poe was confused.

For a beat, nothing.

And then the oddest sensation, like a hand dipping beneath his skull and squeezing his brain, and he almost gasped. He let out a small breath, his eyes dropping from the masked man because—he needed to focus, to push this pain away, to prevent...what was he doing to him?

The pain and pressure doubled and Poe slammed his head back into the headrest, unable to hold in his pained groan, his entire body protesting at the invasion. He tried to push at it, but there was nothing he could find to push against, it was invisible, it was nothing.

The man tilted his head, “Where is it?”

Ah, he was trying to get to the map. In Poe’s brain, using a-a something that he’d only ever heard tales about, never seen, thought was long gone. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of attack, this form of torture that seemed to make his brain want to cooperate, just for relief.

He thought of you, then, and what you said any time there was a close call, an enemy with the upper hand. It spilled out of his lips, automatically, “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased again and fuck, fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than any other pain in his life, the pain of losing Charlie, of losing you, the pain of stab wounds or blasters to the leg. This hurt so much worse and he wanted it to stop but he couldn’t let it—as long as he was in pain, the information was safe. He’d go down burning, he had to!

“Where is it?” The man sounded frustrated, his hand moving closer to Poe as that pressure continued to build and build and he had to swallow it, let it happen, let the pain exist.

He tried something, then, in desperation. Poe let his brain flood with the memories he had of you, each one like a movie, and thrust them toward his interrogator, let him see the most vivid thoughts he had instead of the location of the map.

Poe stared down at you, his eyes threatening to blur with the tears he was shedding, and he had to keep blinking to clear his vision. You looked beautiful, standing before him in a simple lace dress, your lower lip trembling as you gave your vows.

“...and that was how we met, on the day of your mother’s funeral—the woman whose ring I’ll wear now, honouring her. Honoring you. I’ve loved you my whole life, Poe Dameron...”

“Pretty,” The man murmured, and Poe wasn’t sure if it was working or not so he kept thinking of the day he married you, pushing the memories at the man before him.

You were wiping at your tears as he spoke, holding your hands tightly in his own and working hard to keep himself from sobbing through his vows.

“...you and I were never honest with each other like we should have been. We built up our whole lives around each other, and then we lost Charlie,” He paused there, leaving a moment of space for your brother. “And we crumbled, each in our own way because we didn’t have a solid foundation. The truth is, the day Charlie died there were only two ways that could have gone, and we both know that the version where you died, where he didn’t save you, was never really an option. And I was-was angry at him for doing it but angrier at myself for how happy I was that I didn’t lose you. And now we’ve come back to each other and we have that foundation and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

He pushed the memories from his mind. As if eager for the man to see the greatest moments of his life. Like a movie. Because he had to protect the map, he had to.

And he didn’t need to protect you any longer.

The last memory slipped through, he hadn’t meant to think of it. Tried not to, always-but he was weak and the pressure and pain were blinding him. It just appeared, and the man saw it, Poe knew he did when he saw his head tilt a little more as if interested in what he saw.

“Pity,” That cold, modulated voice didn’t sound like he thought it was a pity at all. “Well she certainly can’t have it, can she? Tell me where it is.”

The hand hovering in front of Poe’s face twisted and the pressure on his brain increased rapidly until he couldn’t bear it any longer and he let himself scream, and scream, and scream...

Right before he passed out, he thought first of BB8 hurrying away with the map on Jakku. And then Poe thought of you, his beautiful wife, and how fucking much he already missed you.

Life was now so surreal to Poe, in the best ways, that just the knowledge he could touch you whenever he wished made it difficult to stop himself from doing just that. A hand trailing down your back, a brush of his lips against your temple, his body pressed against yours, even reaching up to cup your cheek. And while you seemed to enjoy the attention, often shooting him little smiles that made his insides warm, he could see that currently, it was irritating you.

“Poe, we’re supposed to be blending in here and if you keep giving me those ‘I’ve seen you naked’ eyes it’s going to attract attention.” You carefully adjusted the scarf you wore, which served both to protect you from the suns of Tatooine, and keep anyone in Mos Espa from being able to identify you.

Poe wore one similar around his neck, his hair gelled back in a way he thought looked awful (and confirmed when he’d stepped out of the ship’s fresher earlier and you laughed, hard). Today’s mission was more personal, though it had been approved by General Organa. Jess Pava had located, purely by accident, the location of the Twi’lek man, Dario, who had tried to capture you and Poe back on Takodana months prior after giving over First Order intel. He was in hiding from both the Resistance and the First Order now.

Poe sighed dramatically, dropping his hands to his sides as you continued walking, his eyes sweeping the crowds of the busy city street, “I can’t help it. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He argued, and you giggled in response.

“We’ve been married five weeks, Poe, the honeymoon phase is the entire first year.”

Poe mulled this over, biting back his smile so as not to stand out to those passing by in the opposite direction. He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to marry him if he was honest. It all felt too good to be true, but if there was one thing he’d learned as a Rebel all these years it was to enjoy the good while he could—he wasn’t spending a lot of time ruminating. He was instead regularly replaying in his mind how quickly you’d said yes, the excitement and joy and adoration that had split your face into a wide grin as he kneeled before you the morning after your feelings for one another finally came out.

“Let’s get married, flyboy.” You’d said, and he’s not sure he would ever come down from the high those words provided.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind, after that. You had still needed a few days' rest to get your voice healed up, and Poe was only able to spend that day with you before being called back to duty. While he’d been gone on a mission, you had organized everything from the comfort of his room, first telling only your closest friends—Tahla, Temmin and Kare. Then you had located the base officiant to ask for her to wed you and Poe in a private ceremony upon Poe’s return.

It was amusing how everyone took the news. You’d described to Poe how Temmin and Kare had high-fived one another, while Tahla had merely laughed, nodding his head in an annoyingly knowing way.

When Poe had arrived back on base, he’d sought you out in his room to find you being examined by Tahla and a medical droid, the former happily declaring that your voice was as good as new. He had then congratulated you each on the happy news and assured you both that he could remain for the ceremony with a cheeky sort of grin.

Poe married you the very next morning. The ceremony was small, just you and Poe, your three friends and the officiant. BB8 had also been present, happily beeping the moment Poe began to cry-which was around the time when you’d surprised him by taking your father’s wedding band from his droid and presenting it for Poe. You told him that as much as you were meant to wear his mother’s wedding band, the same went for him wearing your fathers. You said Charlie would have wanted it to end up in his hand, regardless of who he married, anyway. Poe had replied that he was always going to marry you.

That had been, quite easily, the best day of his entire existence.

After the ceremony, Poe had whisked you off to a nearby beach, the flight a mere ten minutes, where you would enjoy a short three-day honeymoon together camping, surrounded by nothing but sand and water, sunshine during the day and the stars twinkling by night. Temmin had helped Poe to pack camping supplies and promised to keep BB8 safe as he and Kare went off with the droid on a mission alone.

He made love to you on that beach—sand got everywhere, of course, so he took you again in the water that you’d entered naked with the intent to clean up. And again in the tent after dinner. He woke in the middle of the first night and spent a good twenty minutes eating you out before you’d woken, your orgasm ripping through you moments later when you realized what he’d been doing. You’d returned the favour the next night, pulling Poe from a deep sleep by sucking his cock so expertly he saw stars, then drinking down everything he’d given you when he came while moaning sinfully.

“Alright,” You drew his attention from his thoughts—thankfully as he was starting to get hard thinking of the honeymoon. Stepping out of the way of foot traffic, you peered nonchalantly across the road at a grubby-looking cantina. “Jess said he’s in there about this time every day. We just have to wait for him to come out.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe stepped closer to you, an eyebrow quirked, “And not shoot him on sight, right Major?”

You bristled immediately, “I am not going to kill him. Here.” You jerked your chin up stubbornly and Poe chuckled, leaning down and capturing your kips against his softly.

When he pulled back, you threw him a mock glare, “You shouldn’t get me all worked up when you know we don’t have the ship to ourselves, Commander.” You made busywork of adjusting your scarf, eyes back on the cantina.

Poe grinned down at you, “We could knock Dario out-“

“Yeah? And what about our dear Captain? You think Snap would mind?”

He blinked, momentarily having forgotten Temmin was waiting on the ship for them, even though Poe had been the one to ask him along as backup.

“Shit,” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.

He let you think he was annoyed at the lack of privacy, but the truth was Poe had asked Temmin along because he had become extraordinarily overprotective of you since the wedding. After the honeymoon, you’d rejoined him in the field and the first moment he saw you with your blaster at your hip, something inside of him had just...snapped.

He’d realized after your attack on Canto Bight that losing you wasn’t an option, that your life was worth more than winning the war to Poe. It had scared him, to think like that, and everything after that had happened in such quick succession that he’d pushed the thoughts back. But then that first mission together as a married couple had occurred and he realized how intense those protective, selfish thoughts were. And he was being selfish—because you were one of the best fighters, best pilots, the Resistance had. Which was why you’d been brought to D’Qar to join his team in the first place, of course. Limiting your fieldwork would have been as much as a disservice to the Rebels as it would have been to his marriage, so he didn’t even consider asking you to stop.

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

He knew what you would say, if he did ask, anyway. And truly, his belief in your capabilities hadn't diminished in the slightest; he simply couldn’t fathom the idea of you being hurt. Even here on Tatooine, he was keenly aware of all possible threats to you—to YOU, not to the Rebels, not himself. Hell, at that very moment he could see you were covered in a layer of sweat, courtesy of the over-hot planet, and the urge to whisk you somewhere cool and out of the sun was almost as powerful as his desire to complete this mission.

He was aware that his scales were not, in fact, balanced.

No, they’d tipped right over in your favour, though he kept you unaware of that knowledge, and every day now was a struggle when Black team was on a mission. The best he could think to do was bring back up, just in case, and always keep you close to him. If he had to jump in front of gunfire for you, he would in a heartbeat.

If he ever started to feel guilty over these feelings, he would think of your brother. Charlie would, no doubt, be thrilled that Poe and you had married, that Poe had officially made you his top priority.

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

“I know I said you didn’t have to help,” Poe crawled towards you on the makeshift bed you’d put together inside the tent, his voice low, “But I’m glad you did, sweetheart. Got us to this part quicker.” He wiggled his brows at you and you giggled, your eyes following his movements hungrily as he climbed over your body.

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

Poe smirked, pressing his body over yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can take care of you, just relax for me.” He began to kiss a trail up your neck and along your jaw, lifting one hand to gently coax you to settle into the cushions. You allowed your warm body to go limp, signalling a trust in Poe he still had trouble feeling worthy of, and let out a small sigh of content.

He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothing, immediately devouring newly exposed skin with his mouth as he did. He was marvelling over how much his life had changed in the last week, how incandescently happy he was. When a whimper fell from your lips as he circled his tongue over one of your nipples, he drew back and saw your eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re such a tease.” You mumbled, reaching down to palm his erection over his khakis. Grinning widely, he leaned away and quickly stripped himself before bringing his body to settle over yours again, this time skin to skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh sweet girl,” He murmured into your ear as he reached between your bodies to run two fingers through your slick, “So wet for me already.” He withdrew his hand and gently rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as he sunk into you, a gasp falling from his lips at the sensation of your tight heat clenching around him. Perfect, you were utterly perfect.

Your back arched slightly as Poe filled you, angling to allow him to sink deeper, “Poe, Stars!” You whimpered, your hands sinking into his curls while he lazily worked his hips, drawing sweet little noises from your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d made love that day, yet the intense desire you felt for one another was clear, heavy in the air around you, drawing you back to each other as nothing else could.

Being with you like this felt too good to be true, the sort of euphoria that must come with a limit, and so he savoured every second, drawing each thrust out as long as he could as he peppered your pretty face with kisses. “I love you...wife.” He joked, and you giggled beneath him, your legs tightening at his waist.

“I love you too, husband.”

You pressed at his chest then, signalling your desire to flip over, and Poe clutched your hips as he rolled, keeping himself buried within you as he laid on his back. When you relaxed atop him, his cock sunk even deeper and he grunted at the sensation, “Fuck, baby, so tight for me.”

With a moan, you started to move, rolling your hips to keep him deep within you and chasing your own pleasure, hands braced on his chest to hold yourself steady. Watching as you rode him, your breasts jiggling temptingly and skin gleaming with sweat, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He never wanted to leave this beach.

“That’s it, sweet thing, bounce on my cock,” He gritted out, lifting his arms and grabbing at your tits, “Be as loud as you need, baby, no one can hear us out here, fuck.” His head dropped back onto the pillows as a wave of pleasure seemed to roll through your body, the resulting tightening around his cock pulling loud grunts from him and threatening to make him cum.

You started a steady stream of moans then, your pace remaining consistent as you whimpered and cursed, the hands on his chest pressing hard enough that he could tell you were attempting to prevent him from taking over; you wanted to be in control. The realization made his cock twitch, and you seemed to sense his thoughts as you glanced down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze.

“Poe, I’m so close,” You sighed, and he let go of one of your hips to rub his thumb over your clit, circling just how he knew you liked it, how he’d learned over the past few days.

The resulting orgasm rocked your entire body before you seized up and he swore your pussy was gripping him almost too hard, and then he was coming too. It was different, in a good way—he wasn’t moving his hips at all, yet you were milking his cock as you came around him, your hips still moving back and forth, and the surprise of it made Poe come even harder, “Oh stars, sweetheart!” He grunted, his entire body twitching until you finally collapsed and he caught you, holding you close while you both panted heavily.

“Poe?” You whispered, your face nuzzled into his neck.

Poe’s arms tightened around you and he kissed your hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m starving. No more sex, please feed me.”

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

“BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #night changes series #angst #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron smut #finn and poe #rey skywalker #oscar isaac #star wars day #star wars series

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the End

Summary: Y/N Winchester was a hunter like her brothers, following in their fathers footsteps. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

During a case in Georgia, you meet the Dixon brothers and after saving Daryl’s life against a Chupacabra, the two of you become close. But, when the zombie apocalypse starts, life as you know it changes forever.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of blood and injury

Chapter 14-

Negan was John Winchester.

No.

That was impossible, it couldn't be your father.

Your father had died over 14 years ago.

It couldn't be him.

"Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon." He chuckled, his eyes glancing over all of you.

But, he didn't even look twice at you as he looked your way before looking at some else. Did he not recognise you?

"Dad?" You whispered, your voice trembling as he turned towards in confusion.

"Now, you look awfully familiar. What's your name?" Negan asked as he crouched down in front of you curiously.

"Y/N."

"Don't recognise the name, but you do look familiar." He responded before standing back up and looking around at your group, dismissing you entirely. "Anyway, which one you pricks is the leader?"

Why couldn't he remember you? How was he here? You had so many questioned and you had no idea what to do.

"It's this one." Someone said.

"Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan and I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." Negan said with a grin before he turned away from Rick and began to walk in front of the rest of you as he spoke.

"You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here it goes, pay attention." Negan instructed as he pulled the baseball bat off his shoulder and he held it beside Ricks head.

This was not your father.

Your father would never kill innocent people. He would never do this, especially to you. Whoever or whatever this man was, it wasn't John Winchester, but you couldn't figure out how it had taken your fathers body. Maybe it was a shapeshifter, or a demon, but you thought all of them had died when the dead started to rise.

You sat up straighter as you eyed the bat inches away from Rick's face, your hand reaching for your angel blade hidden in your boot. If it was a shapeshifter or a demon, you could kill it.

Suddenly Daryl grabbed your shoulder, silently shaking his head, knowing what you were about to do and you just nodded as he removed your hand and you looked back towards Negan and Rick.

You couldn't risk doing something stupid and getting someone killed.

"Give me your shit or I will kill you." Negan threatened, moving the bat closer to Rick's face.

Rick ducked his head away from the back and that was all it took for you to snap. Nobody threatened your friend like that, especially not this asshole wearing your fathers body.

"Touch him and you'll be dead before you hit the ground." You warned, glaring at Negan, but you didn't miss how Rick quickly looked towards you with pleading eyes silently begging you to shut the fuck up, but you ignored him as you stared at Negan.

"Shit, darling. That isn't any way for a lady to speak."

He stepped back from Rick, his eyes on you in amusement.

You could see Daryl visibly tense out the corner of your eye and you hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. Although, Rick was probably hoping the same thing about you.

Negan had somehow taken over your fathers body, which was just insane because you and your brothers burnt his body all those years ago and you had no idea what was going on.

"My men roughed you up good, huh?" He asked, his eyes flashing over the blood on your face as he began to walk over to you, slinging the baseball bat back over his shoulder as his eyes locked with yours.

Negan stared at you for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your body like he was sizing you up before he turned back towards the others.

He continued talking about how he now owned you all and anything you had, he now owned. But you were only really listening to him, as you took in your surroundings.

There was no way you could fight your way out of this. All your weapons had been taken and there were over 30 Saviours all standing around behind you with guns or melee weapons in their hands.

You glanced over at Daryl beside you, he was staring at the ground, the blanket still draped over his shoulders to try hide the fact that his bullet wound had healed. He lifted his head sensing that you were looking at him and your eyes locked with his ocean blue ones.

"You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punisher now, did you? I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me and you can't do that if you're dead now, can you? I'm not growing a garden. But, you killed my people. A whole damn lot of them, more than I'm comfortable with and for that, for that you're gonna pay. So, now I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you."

Negan was going to kill someone, he was actually going to kill one of you.

"This." Negan began to say as he pulled the baseball bat off his shoulders as he waved it around. "This is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honour." He stated and you gasped in shock.

Lucille.

He named the baseball bat after your mother. But, how did he know that name? He didn't know you, so how the hell did he know Lucille?

You stared at Negan for a few seconds trying to figure out what the hell was going on before something suddenly clicked.

Maybe this was Chuck.

He said 'you'll be seeing your father soon' before you killed him, at first you thought it meant that you were all going to die and see him then, but maybe Chuck had planned this. Maybe Chuck had put a demon or shapeshifter in your fathers body and they still had some of his memories which is why Negan thought you looked familiar.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, you barely even noticed that Negan was walking up and down the line of you, until he stopped in front of Maggie.

You only just realised how pale she looked and how her hair was now cut short, when did that happen?

"Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now." Negan teased when suddenly Glenn lunged forward.

Your reaction time wasn't quick enough in your weakened state as you reached out to try and grab him, but he was too fast.

"No!" Glenn screamed, but before he could reach Negan, Dwight tackled him to the ground aiming Daryl's crossbow to Glenn's head and you froze in panic.

Dwight had Daryl's crossbow. He had it aimed at Glenn, loaded and everything.

"Nope, get him back in line. Alright, listen. Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it."

He paused for a moment before he continued talking.

"Sucks, don't it? The moment you realise you don't know shit. This is your kid, right? This is definitely your kid." Negan stated, his eyes flashing between Rick and Carl as he began walking over to the teenager and your blood turned cold.

"Just stop this!" Rick yelled, speaking up for the first time.

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order."

He walked up and down the line, his eyes scanning over your friends as he began to whistle, clearly trying to figure out who to kill, but the thought of him killing any of these people, any of your new friends... you couldn't even think about it.

"I simply cannot decide. I got an idea." Negan announced as he slung his bat off his shoulder and walked towards Rick.

You were a second away from getting up and spear tackling the man before he spoke again and you froze.

"Eenie." He said with a grin before he moved onto the next person with a grin forming on his face.

"Meenie. Miney. Mo. Catch. A. Tiger. By. His. Toe. If. He. Hollers. Let. Him. Go." He continued as he went over the group, but he wasn't going in any particular order as he held the bat in front of your face and you just sat yourself up straighter as you stared Negan in the eye before he chuckled and moved onto the next.

"My mother. Told me. To pick. The. Very. Best. One. And. You. Are. It." Negan dragged out and you watched in horror as he stopped and pointed his bat towards Abraham.

You heard Rosita and few others gasp before Negan continued.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that." He said as he raised the bat.

There was nothing you could do but watch as he slammed it down against Abrahams head and you couldn't stop the scream that escaped your lips as you watch Abraham's body fall to the floor. The tears you were trying to keep in began falling down your cheeks as you looked away, unable to watch

"Look at that. Taking it like a champ!" Negan shouted, causing your head to quickly snap towards Abraham as he forced himself back up on his knees, blood tripping down his forehead.

"Suck... my... nuts." Abraham groaned, his eyes locked with Negan's.

Negan just grinned before he raised the bat and slammed it back down against Abrahams head causing his body to fall forward.

He hit the ground with a thump before Negan continuously slammed the bat down against Abrahams head, until you couldn't recognise it anymore.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from your friend, watching the blood and brain matter get crunched together after each hit as you covered your mouth with your hands to try and muffle your sobs.

This was not your father.

John Winchester would never do this.

Whatever Chuck had done, there was no way this was your father, it was just someone wearing his skin. Your father would never do this.

"Oh my goodness! Look at this!" Negan exclaimed, taking a step back from Abrahams body as he swung his now bloodied bat in the air causing some of the blood to fly off and hit Rick in the face making Negan chuckle even more. "You guys, look at my dirty girl! Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this." Negan said, walking over to Rosita as he held the bat towards her.

"Oh, damn. Were you- were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red, and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look." Negan said again, walking back to Rosita as he held the bloodied bat right in front of her, but she refused to look at it. "Take a damn look!"

Suddenly, Daryl launched from beside you and you quickly tried to grab him, but you were too slow.

You watched in panic as Daryl punched Negan in the jaw, sending the man stumbling back a few feet before Dwight and another man grabbed Daryl and tackled him to the ground.

"Daryl!" You and Rick both yelled, but your voices were that broken you could barely recognise them.

"No! Oh, no." Negan shouted, pointing his bat towards you before he pointed it at Rick.

Negan's face suddenly dead serious before it broke out in a grin as he chuckled, but your attention was on Daryl who Dwight now had pinned to the ground with his own crossbow aimed at his head.

"That? Oh, my! That is a no-no. The whole thing. Not one bit of that shit flies here."

"Do you want me to do it? Right here." Dwight spoke up and your hands formed fists by your side as you stared at the blonde man with the crossbow.

If he so much as made a move, he'd be on the ground before he knew it. You might be weak, but you'd do anything for Daryl and you could feel your eyes threatening to start glowing, but you didn't want to give away your powers yet.

"No, you don't kill that, not until you try a little."

To your relief Dwight lowered the crossbow as he grabbed Daryl and dragged him back into the line beside you.

Daryl was breathing heavily trying to control himself as he glared at Negan from under the hair covering his face.

"Anyway, that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people. First one's free, then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word." Negan continued to say as he walked towards Daryl and a shiver ran down your spine.

He was going to kill Daryl. No, you couldn't let him do that.

Slowly you moved your hand down to your boot. Trying not to make any sudden movements, but Negan's attention was purely focused on Daryl as you reached past your pant leg to your boot until the handle of the angel blade was in the palm of your hand, the rest of it still hidden.

"First impressions are important. I need you to know me." Negan continued to say, his attention purely focused on Daryl, but then he glanced towards Glenn out the corner of his eye and you froze.

You quickly glanced around at the rest of your friends, but all of them were staring at the ground, not wanting to look Negan in the eye which meant they didn't see it. But, you did.

Negan wouldn't glance over at Glenn for no reason... he was going to kill Glenn, not Daryl.

No, you couldn't let that happen either.

"So, back to it." Negan said, his eyes focused on Daryl as he raised his baseball bat, but you didn't miss how his feet turned slightly towards Glenn and that was it.

You acted on pure adrenaline, not even realising what you were doing until it was too late.

You jumped to the side in front of Glenn, just as Negan swung the bat and you only just got you free hand up in time to stop the bat from connecting with your head as you managed to catch the bat with your hand.

You were trying to use your powers to stop the bat from hitting you at all, but obviously that didn't work since the bat connected with hand.

The force of the hit caused you to cry out in pain as the sound of bones cracking filled the air. If it wasn't for all the adrenaline souring through your veins, you were pretty sure you'd be lying on the ground crying right now.

The barbed wire wrapped around the bat, sliced through your hand, mixing your blood with Abrahams, but you didn't let go. Hell, you weren't even sure you could let go with the wire stuck inside your palm or the fact that you were almost certain that the force of the hit had broken at least one bone in your hand, but that was a problem for later.

It took Negan a moment to register what just happened as he stared at you in pure shock, but you just stared right back at him, not letting him see how much pain you were actually in before he just chuckled.

He pulled the bat from your hand causing you to gasp, but you quickly masked your pain as you glared at him.

"You have some mighty big lady balls." Negan commented as he crouched down in front of you in amusement.

You could see Daryl's body trembling out the corner of your eye in fear or anger or probably both.

Negan leant forward about to say something before you quickly pulled your angle blade out with your good hand and sprung forward.

Your sudden movement caught Negan by surprise as you leaped behind him, wincing as you used your bad hand to hold his back to your chest as you pressed blade to his throat, slicing the skin ever so slightly, but nothing happened.

If he was a demon or shapeshifter it would have burned him, but the only thing that happened was tiny droplets of blood dripped down his neck.

He was real, he was human. How was he real?

Suddenly all the guns in the area cocked as the rest of the Saviours all aimed their weapons towards you. But, you made sure to hold Negan in front of you as a shield. The Saviours wouldn't risk the shot, especially not with their leader right there.

"Drop your weapons, now!" You shouted in a stern voice.

Glancing at all the Saviours, you only just realised how many of them there actually were. Maybe you didn't quite think this through, but in your defence you only had a couple seconds to think.

You looked around the area, eyeing them all cautiously and that's when you saw them.

Sam and Dean.

No.

You had to be seeing things. Your powers had messed with you and you were pretty sure your hand was broken. You were hallucinating them. They weren't real, right?

For a moment, you froze as you stared at them. They were leaning against of the trucks, Dean with a shotgun resting over his shoulder as Sam stood beside him.

They were both just staring back at you, no emotion behind their eyes at all and you quickly realised that they were not your brothers.

Your brothers wouldn't let this happen. They wouldn't let an innocent man get butchered or their little sister to get hurt. Something had happened to them and you were willing to bet that it had something to do with your father.

You forced yourself to look away from your brothers as you glanced over your friends, Rick and Daryl were both staring at you with wide and panicked eyes while Glenn stared at you in shock and slight relief, but suddenly Negan began to chuckle, bringing your attention back to him as you frowned. Why the hell is he laughing right now?

"Well, shit. I did not see that coming. But, you may want to lower that funky looking knife." Negan warned.

"Tell your men to lower their weapons."

"Boys." Negan shouted and a split second later they all moved their sights from you and began to aim their weapons at your friends. Dean with his gun at Daryl, Sam with gun at Rosita as they stood side by side, fingers on the trigger.

"Sam. Dean. Don't do this." You whispered softly, but they clearly heard you loud and clear.

They both looked over at you as you stared at them with pleading eyes and for a moment you thought you saw a hint of regret flash across Sam's face, but a split second later it was gone.

You could feel Daryl and Rick staring at you in confusion before they both looked in the direction you were looking and by the way their bodies tensed even more they must have spotted your brothers.

"You boys know this girl?" Negan questioned causing you to press the blade harder against his throat.

"She was our sister." Dean answered and you felt a small amount of relief wash over you.

They still remembered you. But, why the hell were they on the Saviours side?

"Is that going to be a problem?" Negan asked and Dean instantly shook his head.

"No, sir." Sam responded, shaking his head as well as you stared at your brothers in shock. How could they do this?

"If you hurt any of them, I will slit your bosses throat. Do you want to risk that?" You questioned, your eyes flashing between Sam and Dean before you glanced over at the rest of the Saviours, noticing the slight hesitation on their faces as they stared at Negan waiting to be told what to do.

"You slit my throat, my men will kill every last one of your friends here and then they'll pay a little visit to your community and slaughter all them too. Do you want to risk that?" Negan asked, his tone mocking yours and you knew the man was grinning despite not being able to see his face and you sighed.

"Let them go and take me instead. You can do whatever you want with me, just leave the rest of them alone, deal?" You asked, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"Y/N." Daryl mumbled, staring at you hopelessly with wet eyes, but you just gave him a sad smile.

This was the only way. This was the only way you could guarantee your friends safety.

"Deal." Negan responded and with that you lowered the knife from his throat and all his men lowered their weapons.

Negan quickly swiped the blade from your hand as he grabbed you by your bad hand causing you gasp at the sudden pain as he began to pull you back towards the line up and he threw you to the ground in the space between Daryl and Glenn again.

You landed on your side, unable to stop the groan leaving your lips as pain burst through your hand.

Suddenly, Negan grabbed you by your hair and forced you back onto your knees as he stared down at your injured hand, but you didn't take your eyes off him as Negan chuckled.

"That is definitely broken. But, you're lucky that's the worse injury you got." Negan said.

You could tell Daryl wanted to say something, but he didn't dare speak, not after his last action nearly resulted in Glenn's death as his eyes flashed down to your injured hand.

You looked down properly at your hand that you now had cradled to your chest to find it covered in blood, some Abrahams, but most of it yours coming from all the slices covering your palm from the barbed wire. But, you didn't miss how bruised and swollen your hand was already getting under all the blood. Man, you wished your powers were back to normal, the wound would have been healed by now.

"I'm going to kill you." Rick's broken voice called out.

"I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up." Negan responded, making his way over to Rick as he crouched down in front of him, leaning his bloodied bat over his knee.

"Not today, not tomorrow, but I'm gonna kill you." Rick repeated and for a moment Negan didn't say anything as he stared at him before he chuckled again.

"Simon, what did he have, a knife?" Negan asked, keeping his eyes locked with Ricks as he spoke.

"Uh, he had a hatchet." The man with the moustache answered and mentally noted that his name was Simon.

"A hatchet?"

"He had an axe."

"Simon's my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Or did I?" Negan asked making a clicking noise with his tongue as he motioned towards his bat. "Give me his axe."

You watched cautiously as Simon walked over, handing Negan the axe as he stood up and tucked it through the belt of his jeans before he grabbed Rick by the collar of his jacket and began dragging Rick towards the RV.

"No!" You screamed, about to get up, but both Daryl and Glenn grabbed your shoulders.

"I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me and if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won't we? I mean the ones that are left." Negan shouted, pushing Rick into the RV as he slammed the door closed behind him.

You stared at the RV waiting for them to come back out the door any second, but then the engine roared to life and you watched in panic as the vehicle began to drive off and you couldn't stop the small whimper that left your lips and you weren't sure if it was due to the pain in your hand or the fact that Negan might kill your best friend.

"Y/N-" Daryl began to say before Dean cut him off.

"No talking!"

You glanced over your shoulder at your brothers who just glared right back at you before you turned your attention back to Daryl who was staring at you through teary eyes.

You just gave him small nod to tell him that you were okay, although he clearly didn't believe you in the slightest as he looked back down at your hand that was still cradled to your chest, but there was nothing you could do about that now.

There was nothing any of you could do at all right now.

MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

-Gifs used are not mine. Credit to rightful owners.

A/N-

Thank you for your support on the last chapter, it meant the absolute world to me.

I am trying to be more frequent with chapter updates for you all, so hopefully the next one won’t be too far away. Have a great day guys, stay safe xx

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn

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irishseeeker · 3 years

Link

i’ve been waiting for you

Summary: Each time Anthony and Kate first meet their children.

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chapter 1: anthony meets edmund

Anthony meets Edmund Benedict Bridgerton on a sunny, Tuesday morning. He had been woken up by a heaving Kate the previous night, saying it was time. Anthony had completely panicked but had managed to compose himself to run for the staff to contact the doctor and wake Mary. Mary, Kate’s mother, had taken up residence with them three weeks ago to help her daughter through the birth.

It was considered improper for men to be in the birthing suite, it was considered inappropriate and nothing a man should be exposed to.

The fact had horrified Kate when she found out, pregnancy and childbirth was something she was completely naïve about until it was happening to her. She could not fathom going through anything anymore without Anthony beside her, especially childbirth. Anthony understood this, even when Kate did not protest the doctor’s instructions for Anthony to leave.

It was not advisable, but Anthony simply told the doctor to fuck off anyway.

No one told Viscount Bridgerton what to do, except his mother and the Viscountess Bridgerton. Kate. How was he supposed to wait outside while Kate, his Kate, was in agony for hours on end? He could not bear it. He would not bear it.

Before going into labour, towards the end of her pregnancy, Kate had expressed to Anthony that she wanted him there. They were wrapped up in bed one evening, murmuring sweet nothings between them until the conversation took a serious tone. Kate had told him how scared she was to give birth, that she knew it was silly but it still terrified her.

He had been at a loss for words, feeling horrifically guilty of this fear and there was not a lot he could do about it. So he would do anything he could to help her. They read books about it, they spoke with doctors, they spoke with Daphne about her experiences.

If Kate needed him there, he would be there.

Anthony was not physically or emotionally capable of denying his wife anything.

It was a long, tedious birth. Kate had been in labour for most of the night, walking around the birthing suite in an attempt to speed up the process or breathing heavily through each contraction. Anthony never left her side. His hand ached from how long Kate had squeezed it through contractions, not that he would dare admit that out loud.

Kate would definitely smack him.

Eventually, the doctor announced it was time to push. Mary was holding Kate's other hand, whispering soothing and encouraging words into her daughter's ear. Anthony had been screamed at to stay at Kate’s side and not dare go look between her legs. Anthony would not repeat the other things his wife cursed at him as she pushed, as much as they amused him. All he could do was hold Kate’s hand and rest the other on her back, supporting her back as she leaned forward. He did not stop speaking to her, telling her how incredible she was, how much he loved her, how in awe of he was.

Every time he thought he could not not love his wife more, she proved him wrong every time.

The piercing cry that eventually broke through the room in the early hours of the morning left Anthony without the ability to speak.

“You have a son,” The doctor announced, holding the baby up to the new parents. He cut the umbilical cord and wiped the wriggling, slightly pink and purple baby covered in a white substance and red splotches of blood.

“Oh my, is he alright?” Kate sobbed, collapsing against the pillows but her eyes did not leave her son. She looked so exhausted but elated, and the tears streaming down her face matched the ones on her mother and husband’s faces. Anthony did not try to hide his tears, how could he? He had a son. A son. “Oh, Anthony. Mary. Look.”

“You are amazing, I love you,” He whispered against her temple, pressing a kiss there but his eyes never left his son as the doctor returned with the baby wrapped in a white cloth, laying him on Kate’s chest.

“Oh darling, you did so well. He is perfect,” Mary said softly, peering closer to her daughter who had adjusted the baby in his arms. “Have you chosen a name?”

The name of their son had been a topic of debate between Kate and Anthony over the last nine months. They could not agree on a name, or one of them loved a name the other hated.

“We have,” Kate murmured, which caused Anthony to raise an eyebrow at his wife. As far as he was concerned, the topic was very much still up for debate.

“Edmund,” Kate declared, looking up from her son to stare at her husband, her eyes lighter than the heavens above and her smile was small and magical. “Edmund Benedict Bridgerton.”

Anthony was speechless.

“I will leave you two,” Mary said, pressing a kiss to Kate’s forehead and reaching over to squeeze Anthony’s arm before she turned to leave the room. “I will give you a moment of privacy. I will be back soon. Congratulations.”

“Kate,” He murmured, making absolutely no attempt to hide his emotions as he moved closer to his wife and son. He could not think of anything to say other than his wife’s name. He could not put what he was thinking and feeling into words.

“There was never another name for him. It is perfect, don’t you think?” Kate spoke softly, resting her head against Anthony’s shoulder. “A great man named after a great man.”

Again, words completely failed him. All Anthony could do was glance between his wife and son, nodding in agreement. It meant everything to him, absolutely everything to him. His father would have loved it. His mother would love it, as would his siblings. All Anthony had ever wanted in life was to honour his father and be the father he was.

In this moment, looking at his son, Anthony knew that was all he would ever try to do. He wanted to be a man and father worthy of Edmund, worthy of their future children, worthy of Kate.

“Here you are,” Kate said softly, snapping Anthony out of his thoughts as she moved her arms close to Anthony’s as she transferred their son into his waiting arms.

The feeling of his son, his son, being placed into his arms was indescribable. He was pink and loud, his little lungs screaming for air and possibly out of discomfort before settling once he was in his father’s arms. Did he know who Anthony was?

Anthony had never felt anything like this, looking at his first born son. It was not his first time holding a baby, he had held Simon and Daphne’s newborn daughter Amelia only last year. The first baby he had ever held was Hcyinth when he was just eighteen years old. He thought he had felt love then, staring into the eyes of his newborn sister that would never know their father and would only ever know him.

Except this time, Anthony was a father. The most important role in his life, not Viscount, but husband was now tied with father.

He was a father.

This tiny baby, with his slightly pointed nose that was Anthony's and cheekbones that were all Kate, was a part of them. Both of them. He was theirs. He was a Bridgerton.

“Wow,” Anthony whispered, terrified to move an inch as he sat perched on the bed beside Kate. One of his fingertips lightly grazed his son’s tiny cheek, which was not even the size of Anthony’s palm, and his delicate skin was so soft.

He was heaven.

Time had always been an enemy of Anthony's, something he was constantly fighting a battle against. He often wanted to reverse it. Except, this time, he didn’t wish he could reverse it. He found himself wanting to stop it, in this utterly distilling moment, wishing he could stay in this moment of holding his son for the first time forever.

“It suits you,” Kate said, breaking Anthony out of his trance as Anthony broke his gaze and looked up at her. She was the most beautiful thing in the world, laying against the pillows on the bed, her dark thick hair slightly matted and damp. She must be exhausted.

“What suits me?” Anthony asked, resuming his staring contest with his son, whose dark eyes were glancing around the room curiously before landing back on his father. “You should sleep, love. You need your rest to recover.”

“It suits you being a father,” Kate murmured, her eyes drooping closed as she settled herself against the pillows. “You were born for it. Mm. I am rather exhausted. For once, I shall not argue,” Her voice teased him, drifting off as she spoke, a small smile settling on her lips.

He loved her. Anytime he thought he could not possibly love her more, she always proved him wrong.

Anthony did not leave the birthing suite once in the hours Kate slept. He wanted to keep an eye on her, hours after the birth were important ones to observe in case something terrible happened. He also could not take his eyes off his son, or was capable of putting him down.

“I’m your father,” Anthony spoke softly to his son as he stood by the window, gazing out at the night sky. He had been awake far too long but the adrenaline running through his veins kept him awake. If he felt slightly drowsy, he just looked at his son and it sent a euphoric buzz throughout his veins. He brought Edmund closer to his face so he could lightly kiss his forehead. "I am completely yours."

“You will meet everyone soon,” He kept his voice low, cautious his wife was asleep close to them. He had been rambling for a while now, talking about nothing and everything. His son was a few hours old and Anthony wanted to tell him everything. “I promised your aunt Hyacinth she would meet you first, so she will come soon. Then there are your uncles and your aunts. There are a lot of people who love you,” He rocked his son back and forth slowly, watching his lips open and close as he shifted in his father’s arms. “You and I are incredibly lucky. We have an amazing family, but nothing compares to your mother. She is everything.”

“You should sleep, you must be exhausted,” Kate’s voice startled him slightly, and Anthony turned his back on the window to look at his wife. He felt his cheeks darken slightly, wondering how much she had overheard. She was sitting up, half-awake and smiling tiredly at him. “Come here. I miss you two.”

“I am well,” Anthony murmured, obeying his wife as he carefully climbed onto the bed, tucking Edmund against his chest as he did so. Kate carefully took the baby, holding him against her chest with one hand and holding his tiny hand with the other. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted and sore,” Kate replied honestly, nuzzling the top of Edmund’s head and pressing a kiss to his bald head with a few tufts of light hair. The baby began to fuss and Kate took that as a sign he was hungry, and she pulled down her nightdress to feed him. “I also have never felt happier in my entire life.”

Anthony chuckled softly, curling himself around his family as he pulled the sheets further over the three of them, carefully tucking his arm under the baby and Kate.

Anthony had never been good with expressing his emotions or dealing with emotions in general, but lying there, beside his family, he felt as if he would burst he was feeling so much. He had to say something. He was conscious of how he made Kate feel, given his opposition to any form of love at the start of his marriage. He never wanted her to feel as if he did not love her or appreciate her, but he still struggled with expressing his emotions. “Me too. I- Kate. Thank you, thank you for everything. For him. For being you. I love you, Kate. I love you both of you with every part of me.”

Anthony glanced up at his wife and his breath caught slightly as her dark eyes were glistening, and she motioned for him to come closer. “It was my pleasure, quite a painful pleasure, but I would do it a million times over. For you. For him. For us. We love you too, you sweet incredible man. Now, kiss me before you pass out.”

Anthony laughed, blinking momentarily to try take the sting out of his wet eyes. Anthony had never felt so much in his entire life and he really needed to stop crying. He would only cry in front of Kate, rarely, but he hoped it was out of his system. He leaned forward and kissed Kate softly, squeezing her hand which lay on top of his on their son’s back.

As Anthony fell into a much needed slumber, beside his wife and son, he had never felt so content in his entire life. This was always where he was meant to be.

He was home.

#posting two fics in the same day who am I #bridgerton #my fics #kate and anthony as parents makes me feel things #I could read five books about them with their kids #there will be 7 more parts with them both meeting each baby #kate x anthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #bridgerton fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction #canon

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

A Lapse in Judgement

CHAPTER ONE: A Dangerous Present CHAPTER TWO: A Past Forgotten CHAPTER THREE: A Foreshadowing CHAPTER FOUR: One Possible Conclusion CHAPTER FIVE: Untethered

Komaeda Nagito x Ultimate Empath!Reader : NSFW Summary : Codependency is the kind of thing that will get someone like you killed, but now that you've tasted him you aren't sure you could go without. You should be smarter than this.

AKA: Ultimate Empath reader gets nasty with Komaeda. Even though she knows it's a really bad idea.

Contains: she/her pronouns, penetrative sex, blow jobs, referenced canon character death

read on AO3

Being an ultimate empath is not easy, and it never has been. Your whole life you have tried to distance yourself from other people, because your talent means it is far too easy for you to grow attached to them. To feel that you are them.

Now that you are trapped in a killing game it is even harder. Staying detached now of all times, is incredibly important.

But you failed.

Komaeda’s jutting hip bones dig into your thighs, his skin, usually so pale you can almost see right though, is flushed pink. His swollen lips move frantically as he mutters, pleads, begs. Self deprecation, words of adoration. Separated only by desperate whimpers for more. He looks angelic writhing beneath you, with his eyes squeezed shut and the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest. He whimpers, and his hips stutter up to meet yours. Almost like he is ashamed to do it. You cup his face in your hand, cooing softly at him.

A few strands of thin white hair are plastered to his forehead with sweat, you brush them away and tuck them behind his ear. His eyes snap open at the touch of your fingers, and you feel him. He is desperate, he is needy, he is honoured, he is unworthy. You slow the grind of your hips on the crotch of his jeans, placing a hand on his chest to feel his heart. It beats fast, like a hummingbird stuck behind his ribs. His skin is pulled taut across his bones, when you meet his eyes again, he feels disgusting.

“Hah…” he mutters, high and breathless, “that you would touch someone as filthy as me like this…”

You cut him off. Pressing your forehead to his, “Shh. Nagito, I know.”

He laughs again, it’s shaky and weak, “of course! An ultimate empath like yourself, you know everything! I should have known better.”

You kiss him firmly, one of your hands digging into the halo of white hair on the pillow. Trying to ignore the strands that come away in your fingers. He talks about you so highly, an ultimate empath like yourself, you should be the one who knows better. Komaeda is unstable. His feelings are so strong, so passionate you can’t help but sink into them. If you were too close when he finally tipped off the edge, you might just find yourself jumping after him. Despite the smarter part of yourself screaming at you to remember everything he has already done, you shove your tongue into his mouth and moan as his dances with yours.

Your hands slip down his torso, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers. You suck in a breath as your fingers drop over the edge of his rib cage and down to the valley of his stomach. He is thinner than he looks in his clothes, did anyone else know? Could anyone else tell just how sick he was?

“Your hands must be...haa...getting so dirty...tou-touching me” Komaeda mumbles into your mouth. The words taste like poison.

You open your eyes and stare into his. He feels guilty, he feels undeserving. Underneath that, there is a glimmer. A hope that despite all, you may still accept him. Your eyes are welling up, you are too deep inside him. How is he not crying all the time?

“You are the only person my hands want to touch, Nagito.” you whisper, licking up the shell of his ear.

As much as you want to know how he feels. To know if your words had helped. It would be too much for you right now, so you close your eyes and fumble with the button on his jeans. He wriggles beneath you as it pops open, and sucks in a breath and you slide down the zipper.

His cock is as delicate as the rest of him. Thin and pale, tip flushed pink. Your hand shakes as you reach out to grip it, a moan that almost sounds like an apology reverberates from Komaeda’s throat. His skin is soft.

“Wha-What are you? Wh- hng!”

He is reduced to a babbling mess when you give him a cursory pump. You watch him carefully, for a sign or a word, anything to indicate that he wants you to stop. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open, drool slowly making its way down his chin.

You moisten your lips, and then lick a stripe up the side of his cock.

Komaeda cries out, sitting up and gripping your shoulders. You realise, that this is the first time he has touched you. His eyes are wide, his teeth are bared. He is shocked, he is aroused, but most of all he is afraid. Waiting for the other foot to drop, for you to pull away and laugh, like this was all just a big joke. You feel his heart beating in your chest.

“I...I...I’ll ruin you.” He breathes, “You are going to let my filth ruin your perfect mouth?”

“If my mouth is to be ruined.” You whisper, lips barely brushing the tip of his cock, “I’d like you to do it.”

You can’t resist. You meet his eyes again. His arousal crashes with yours, and you feel your cunt throb. It is hard to look into his eyes with the tsunami of emotions overtaking you, but you do it for him. His misty green eyes look at you desperately, his perfect pink lips hang open as his breath heaves. He looks like a dream, you wish he could get inside your heart like you could his. That he could know that it isn’t fake, not with him.

He falls backward in a full body shudder when you take him into your mouth. Whining, writhing. His hands are buried back in the sheets of your bed, purple and floral. They match the ones you had at home. How strange. You have to press a hand down firm on Komaeda’s belly to stop him from stuttering his cock deeper down your throat. His hips wriggle and grind, but he’s whimpering and apologising like he has no control over it.

“It’s so warm.” He babbles, breath heaving, “Trash like me should never...hahhh...can’t stay still…”

You smile around him. Bringing your head back up to circle his head with your tongue. He loses himself, one of his hands tangles in your hair.

“I shouldn’t be touching you. I shouldn’t.”

You release him from your mouth with a pop. Leaving the hand in your hair, and bring his other to your bare chest. Komaeda stops breathing. His eyes are wide, blinking up at where his hand rests on your breast. You grip your hand over his, and force him to squeeze.

“I want you to touch me. Ruin me.” You shuffle further up his body, straddling him again, “we are equals, Nagito. Especially here.”

With his jeans and underwear hanging down around his thighs, the only thing separating you from his cock are your panties. As much as you want to take things slowly, as much as you want to take a moment to enjoy something that you should never do again. You find yourself grinding your clit down on his cock. Komaeda chokes on a moan, the hand on your breast reflexively tightening. He gasps, shocked at the feeling of your soft flesh beneath his hand. He is looking up at you now, but it is impossible to know how he is feeling because his eyes are glued to your breasts. Watching them sway as you grind back and forth. He whines.

You want to feel this way forever, you want to listen to his needy little sounds for the rest of your life. Three people didn’t die yesterday, everything is fine. Komaeda is underneath you, you are in control. Mikan didn’t look you in the eye during the trial, you hadn’t felt the thrill. You hadn’t felt the thrill of despair rushing up your spine. It hadn’t felt familiar. Everything was-

“Stop.” Komaeda mutteres, sitting up and gripping your shoulders, “Hey. Stop”

You freeze. He is worried about you, and you aren’t sure why until he brushes a tear from your cheek.

“I’m fine.”

His brows draw together, and for a moment, he permits himself to touch you. His spindly fingers curl into your hair and rub soft circles on the back of your head, all the while he is just staring at you. Opening himself up like a book for you to read.

He is blessed

He is happy

He is worried

He is-

He feels-

Oh.

Oh no.

His smile is soft. His eyes are gentle. Even without your talent, you could tell that his face says I love you.

It is always hard to distinguish between your own feelings and someone else’s. they all swirl and combine inside of you, like someone has stuck them in a blender. It’s impossible to tell where Komaeda’s love ends and your feelings begin.

“Better?” He asks

You nod

He smiles wide, “good. It must be hard sharing the emotions of everyone all the time, but just think of the hope it will lead to! All the good things you will be able to do!”

You know he is trying to pay you a compliment. But you know the words, you’re so much better than me. Are lurking underneath. He’s right, it is hard not being able to tell which are your feelings and which are not. That you can never be fully sure that the throbbing in your heart is real or fabricated. What you can tell, is that it's much harder being him.

So you kiss him. The tracks from tears running down your cheeks just starting to dry.

His mouth tastes like danger, but his lips are gentle. He is a walking contradiction. Your teeth catch his bottom lip and his blood tastes syrupy sweet. He moans so gently into your mouth and you swallow the sound, it is only for you. Codependency is the kind of thing that will get someone like you killed, but now that you've tasted him you aren't sure you could go without. You should be smarter than this.

His eyes are hooded when you finally pull your lips from his. His hair tangled and fucked in a way that only your fingers could manage, his lips a perfect shade of red that only you could make them. Two hearts are racing in your chest, beating in time.

“It feels like I know you.”

He blinks, “you do know me.”

“No I-” it feels like you know him from before, from another life, another time. It’s crazy. You’re being crazy. All you can do is laugh to yourself and cup his cheek, “don't worry about it.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it. You can tell that he is confused and even a little concerned, but you just laugh.

“Nagito. I'm fine.”

His head tilts. The motion so sweet that your heart clenches, “you don't need anything?”

Your lips curl up in a smile as you lean in closer and whisper, “just you.”

He swallows, you catch his Adam's apple bobbing in this throat. His arousal is back, and so is yours. You push him back gently so his head is rested on the pillows again, the moonlight hitting his thin hair in a way that makes it shimmer. You push your panties to the side.

You didn’t think to bring a condom. How unlucky, you muse, lips pulling into a tight smile. Though Komaeda’s luck has not run out yet, because during a killing game, safe sex is the last thing on your mind.

His head flings backward as you engulf him. His pretty voice cracking and his spindly fingers gripping the sheets. The moonlight from the window crosses his skin and he is glowing. You still, getting a feel for just how deep his cock reaches inside. Afraid to move and break the perfect picture before you. One of Komaeda’s hands lifts up to hide his face, and he laughs.

“I-I’m in…” his breath rattles in his throat, “I’m inside of you...hah...you’ve let me taint even your insides.”

You can’t help it, you grin down at him.

“Go on then.” You say, rocking your hips in a way that makes his breath catch, “Take me. Ruin me for anyone else.”

At your words. His fingers dig tight into your thighs, and his colliding emotions read as an internal battle. A war between his self deprecation, and his desire to just fuck you.

Even your own cheeks turn pink in that moment, feeling just how desperate he is.

“C’mon, baby.”

When he hears you call him baby, his fingers dig in tighter. So tight it almost hurts.

“Don't beat yourself up like this, please.”

He surprises you when he speaks, “you...you're-” he swallows, “-you’re so wet.”

His hands are shaking, and you feel the teensiest buck of his hips. His eyes meet yours, he is amazed, he is dumbfounded, he is over the fucking moon.

“I did this to you…” he licks his lips, “and you let me”

His hands move from your thighs to your hips, digging into your soft flesh as he lets out a strangled moan. The sound of resolution. Followed by a desperate thrust deep inside you, to say you moaned would be an understatement. You howled. Generally you would make sure to keep quiet, with the other cabins all within earshot, but for some reason (an impossibility you cannot comprehend) your joining feels comforting. Like seeing an old friend in a new town, or tasting a childhood dish later in life. Komaeda feels like coming home.

He thrusts again and you fall forward, planting your palms on either side of his head. His eyes are scrunched shut, the cutest furrow between his brows. Something in his expression twists, his smile becomes wild and the pads of his fingers are replaced with nails digging into you. It hurts, but you just moan louder. Encouraging him, you really need to stop encouraging him. One day Komaeda is going to go fucking supernova and you’re going with him. You can’t tell the future but it feels like an inevitability, like it has already happened and will happen again.

Even under the blanket of night, the island’s tropical heat never ceases. A bead of sweat makes its way down your spine, a kiss to Komaeda’s shoulder tastes like salt. The single bed creaks and groans as he grinds up into you, mouth hung open as he laughs and moans. You sit up, freeing a hand to slip down to your clit and your breath hitches at the feeling. Komaeda’s eyes snap open at the sound, and he follows your arm down to where you are touching yourself. Then down further. You feel him throb when he gets a good look at the spot where he enters you. His eyes are wide, his hands on your hips shake.

Then he thrusts up again, slower and deeper. Transfixed at the way he disappears inside you. You circle your clit, faster and looser, hips stuttering every time he bottoms out inside. Your head lolls back as you moan again, grabbing one of his hands and intertwining your fingers together.

“I’m going to come soon.” You force out, rolling your hips forward again.

Komaeda hisses air in through his teeth and you notice his thrusts are getting sloppy, “m-me too…”

You smile, there’s one last thing you want from him, “look at me.”

His eyes meet yours and you can feel a moment of panic, a cacophony of trash trash trash screaming behind his eyes. You press a hand to his cheek.

“Just let go.” You whisper, “I’m right here.”

He takes a deep breath and just pounds you. The coil in your belly is growing tighter and tighter, his hips pumping faster and faster. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s biting his lip so hard that it bleeds. He’s a vision, he should be hung up in the fucking louvre.

Then with a strangled moan, his eyes snap open and you come. Both of you, and you can feel it all.

It’s like a snap of tension. A rope untied. The highest note in your favourite song.

And he loves you

He loves you loves you loves you

You slump forward, limp from the exertion. Komaeda is panting quietly and one of his hands slowly reaches around your shoulders. Even after all that, he is still hesitant to touch you. You kiss his temple, and then-

DING DONG BING BONG

Your eyes snap open. It’s still too dark for that to be the morning announcement, and that can only mean-

Komaeda stiffens below you, thinking the same thing when Monokuma makes the second worst announcement he possibly could.

“e-HEM! Hey suckers, don’t get your panties in a twist no one is dead. Just thought I would do the polite thing and let you all know that the Ultimate Lucky Student and the Ultimate Empath just GOT IT ON!”

“fucking hell…” you muttered, but the bear wasn’t done.

“AND AND AND AND! They didn’t even practice safe sex!!!! I must have failed you as a teacher. So! Tomorrow morning I’ll be giving the class a demonstration! So maybe the next two rowdy kids will be a little more responsible! Anyway sweet dreams!”

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda #danganronpa #sdr2 #super danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa x reader #reader insert

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mehreya · 4 years

Text

regret

↬ wc: 3.9k

↬ pairing: bokuto kotarou x fem!reader

↬ genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au

↬ summary: you’ve always viewed the concept of soulmates negatively, or even indifferently, but bokuto kotarou quickly changes your mind.

-- send an ask to @/seraee to be on my gen taglist or fill out my form in navi!!

As life progresses, regret, you learn, is the absolute bane of your existence.

You are born in 20th century Japan, near the end of the Shōwa period, and you grow up during the Heisei period. The soulmate legend has become increasingly well-known by then; but you are raised in such times where people, although they know of the soulmate legend, refuse to believe it, or to accept it.

Your grandmother is the one to recount the soulmate tale to you, not your mother. Your mother, a few years after she’s had you, leaves you in the hands of your grandmother, too scared to be trapped in motherhood, too scared to end up like her own mother; trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to be a mother at the age of 20. Your father stays with you and your grandmother, but when you turn eight, he passes away; taken away by weary thoughts and the liquor he so loves.

You are thus left alone with your grandmother, who, though she does her best to support you, is not enough. You have to take on three other jobs at the age of fifteen just to make sure you can pay for your high school education. The idea of taking on even more jobs just to be able to afford university tires you immensely, and you decide you cannot go to university. You just can’t.

Why do you have to work so hard to go to university anyway, when you can just pick up a few years later, when you have enough money? At that point, you are convinced that because of your bad luck, you won’t be meeting your soulmate anytime soon. You’re not even sure if you want to meet him; all your friends are planning to leave to Tokyo to engage in wild partying and one night stands; none of them want to be tied down by something as fickle as love. No one wants to be like their Shōwa mothers.

You decide you do not want to be like your mother; someone who abandoned you. But you don’t want to end up like your grandmother either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, you ultimately decide if you meet your soulmate, you will try, but until then, you want to live your life the way you want to. You want to go with your friends to Tokyo and party and be free, and just not worry about financial, emotional or other materialistic problems.

So with a kiss to your grandmother’s cheek and a last look at the house you grew up in but never loved, you leave for Tokyo the minute you turn eighteen.

Tokyo is bright lights and loud noises; a rush of color and sound and everything in between. Your friends seem to enjoy it; glad they are free from the restrictions of the old village you lived in. You try to enjoy it as well, and for the first few weeks, you really do. You relish in the feeling of letting loose in clubs, dancing to your heart’s content, throwing back shots, meeting new people. It is a rush of excitement and exhilaration, and you are completely drunk on the feeling.

Three years pass just like this, full of wild nights and random strangers and drunk parties. And then one day, a realization hits you. You wake up like normal, in some unfamiliar person’s bed, your garments thrown to the side haphazardly. Feeling the urge to vomit, you slide out of bed carefully, but one look back at the man, and you know he’s out cold. You hurry to the bathroom and vomit out last night’s contents, sighing as you wash your face with cool water after you’re done.

Slipping out of the bathroom quietly, you take in your surroundings and realize you are in a penthouse. You get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can and swipe as much cash as you can carry from the rich man’s wallet, which lay near your clothes. You’re just about to head out when light peeking in from behind curtains covering the floor-length window catches your eye.

Padding over to the window, wanting to see what the view is like from the highest floor of a building, you pull open the curtains and quickly step in front of the window, closing the curtains behind you. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you take in the sight in front of you.

The sky is a beautiful pale blue covered by white wisps of clouds, intertwining around emerging rays of sunlight peeking through. It looks so beautiful; just like the sunrises your grandma used to show you. She used to bring you up to the hilltop and used to braid your hair at the top and sing you a lullaby as you watched the sunrise with her.

This is the first time you’ve thought about your grandma in years, and tears gather at the corner of your eyes at your thoughtlessness. Is your grandma doing well? Is she taking care of herself? Is she even alive?

You twist out from behind the curtains hurriedly, gathering your belongings and practically running to the elevator, barely holding in sobs as you do so. You must have looked very strange to the people in the elevator with you, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

The second you hear the ding that signals the elevator doors are opening, you rush out, scurrying to the nearest sheltered curb you can find. And you sit down, bury your head in your hands, and you sob.

A few weeks later finds you on the train back to your home town. You’re nervous; it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your grandmother. The remorse and the regret had piled up for years, and you’d just pushed them away, but now; now, you decide it’s been too long. Too long since you visited the woman who practically raised you, too long since you talked to the one who’d loved you and cared for you when your own parents hadn’t.

And thus, you’re resolute in your decision, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to run away. The slowing down of the train, and the hoot of the train horn alerts you to the fact that you’ve arrived at your destination. Somewhat hesitantly, you step off the train and breathe in the familiar air. Though it didn’t truly feel like home, it felt good to be back.

You grab a cab, anticipation thrumming through your veins. Reaching home, you swing open the rusty white screen door and step inside gently.

“Obaa-san?” You call out softly, taking off your shoes and putting them beside the door. She calls out your name, surprised. Her voice is a feeble croak, and sounds incredibly weary, as if she might collapse any minute. Heart clenching in worry and fear, you follow the direction of her voice to her bedroom door.

Swinging it open gently, you freeze as you see the weakened figure of your ailing grandmother. Her skin is incredibly pale, and she is barely breathing, so faintly you didn’t even realize she was until you looked closely. She beckons you closer, and you step forward weakly, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “Obaa-san.” You breathe out softly, regret clogging up your throat.

“Child,” she takes a shuddering, wheezing breath, and then closes her eyes completely, too weakened to even attempt anything other than talking.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You’re crying now, but she can barely move her arms to comfort you, and that makes you cry harder.

“There, there. My time has come, (Name). My last and only wish for you,” she wheezes, and the lines on her face slowly go slack. “Is I wish you would go to college, and end up being someone successful. I hope for you to live a happy, successful life.” Her voice fades in the end, and she goes completely still. You cry out for her, but she doesn’t respond, and you spend the rest of the day mourning by her side, lamenting the fact that you were too late.

To honour your grandmother’s last wish, you enrol in Tokyo University as soon as you can. The first two years of college pass by surprisingly easy, the cash you’d accumulated from your nights out, along with the money your grandma had left you, pays well for your tuition. You still haven’t aged a bit; no grey hairs visible. That changes in your third year of college though; in the first semester of your third year of college, you meet your supposed other half.

“(Name), you are to be partnered with Bokuto Koutarou for this assignment.” Your English professor intones monotonously, before clearing his throat and reading out the next pair, leaving no room for further instructions or debate.

Having never heard that name before, you glance around the lecture hall curiously, hoping your partner will come to you instead of you having to go to him. A flash of black and white catches your eye, and you see a black-and-white haired boy walking toward you, a cheerful smile on his face. His eyes are rather unique, you note, brilliant gold with a black slit for the pupil. He kind of reminds you of an owl, at first glance, and the cautious walls you always have up are lowered slightly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He greets cheerfully, one hand reaching out for yours in a high five, to which you comply, slightly unnerved when he slaps your palm and then pumps it up and down excitedly. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, but you can call me Bo!” He grins cheerfully, and since you usually tend to keep to yourself, the excited greeting from someone you don’t even know makes your heart warm a little.

You greet him back quietly, smiling a little as you tell him your name. He grabs a nearby chair and sits down next to you, practically bouncing in his seat. “SO,” he begins loudly, and you lean away a little, not wanting your eardrums to be blown out. “What theme are ya thinking about?” He asks, leaning toward you a little.

“I was thinking…since it’s Romeo and Juliet, we could do the easiest and most central theme, love?” You say a little uncertainly. Though you have little to no experience on the subject, aside from your grandmother, it is one of the most obvious themes of the play, and you’re sure you can make something up. The assignment basically entails analysing a theme and relating to it, then displaying it to the audience; nowhere does it say it has to be truthful.

“Sure!” He agrees cheerfully, head bobbing up and down eagerly. “Great.” you smile back. The bell is going to go in a few minutes, and you realize you still haven’t packed up your things. “Do you mind going and signing us up?”

“I gotcha!” He stands up abruptly, almost knocking into someone behind him, who just stares at him a little disgruntled, and walks away.

Before he can start walking off though, you need to set a time and place for your meeting to discuss more on the assignment. “Um, Bo-san?”

He turns around, eyes sparkling, “Just Bo is fine!” He says with a thumbs up.

“Right…Bo-kun?” you say slowly. “Man, you’re just like Akaashi!” He pouts a little. You perk up, Akaashi and you are somewhat good acquaintances; did he by any chance, know Bokuto too?

“You know Akaashi-kun?” You ask curiously. “Yeah!” He says, pointing to himself proudly, “Me and Akaashi are roommates!”

“Ah…Then, to discuss the project, we could meet up at your place?” You trust Akaashi to an extent and Bokuto seems nice enough, so you figure there’s no harm. Besides, it’s much better than your cramped little apartment. Bokuto agrees, as you expected, and then the bell rings, and you say your goodbyes.

You stare at the door in front of you, re-checking the number plate and the address Bokuto had scribbled down and shoved into your hand hastily, when you’d reminded him that you didn’t know where you lived.

You knock twice, and the door swings open to reveal an excited Bokuto. “Hey, hey! So, how long do you think this will take? Do you think it’s gonna take long? Please tell me it doesn’t take long!” You’re bombarded with questions as Bokuto hovers in front of you. Someone nudges him out of the way, and then you are met with Akaashi’s face, “Bokuto-san, please give our guest some space.” He says with a sigh.

“Oh!” Bokuto makes a face in understanding, “You’re right, Akaashi!” Akaashi shakes his head, and then looks toward you, bowing his head a little in greeting. You greet him back before stepping into their apartment, arranging your shoes by the door neatly. Akaashi murmurs something to Bokuto quietly, and you look away respectfully. You only look back when there’s a shuffling sound to see Akaashi leaving.

He notices you looking, and says politely, “Well, I’ll be off then.” There must have been a confused expression on your face, because he shifts a little uncomfortably before explaining he’s off to see his girlfriend. Oh. You didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. He nods to you one last time, and then leaves after directing a stern look toward Bokuto.

“C’mon then! Let’s do this quickly!” Bokuto pumps his fist in the air excitedly. “May I ask why you’re in such a hurry, Bo-kun?”

“Ah, I wanna go play volleyball! Volleyballll!” He exclaims as he bounces down onto the sofa. “Oh, you enjoy volleyball?” You follow him, taking out your binder and notes from your bag. “Yeah!” He leans toward you eagerly, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. You shift away subtly, but you don’t think he would have noticed either way.

Bokuto bounces on the sofa impatiently as you begin the discussion. “Um, so… love…where do you think it can be observed in the play, and what form does it come in?” Bokuto stares at you blankly as he pauses, “Huh?” Facepalming, you sigh. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Your meetings with Bokuto don’t go too bad surprisingly; once you bait him with the promise of playing volleyball with him (a trick you learned from Akaashi), he pays a little more attention, and takes down notes dutifully as you discuss (although analysing his writing is a task in and of itself, you’re glad he’s being productive). Hesitant acquaintanceship slowly leads to friendship as the months progress.

Akaashi can only watch silently as he sees you open yourself up a little and as he watched Bokuto wait in anticipation for your visit each day. He thinks the both of you are a little too oblivious; but then again, he doesn’t know you too well. Being kindred souls, both you and Akaashi liked to sit quietly in each other’s presence, but with Bokuto’s loud and excitable nature, he sees you open up a little. Akaashi can only hope that whatever is forming between you and Bokuto leads to something good.

You’re standing in front of your mirror one day, combing through your hair when a strand comes away in your hands. You’re about to throw it away mindlessly when you notice it’s not (h/c); no, it’s grey.The tell-tale sign one has met their soulmate is when they start aging, and that’s signified when their hair turns grey.

You sink down onto your bed slowly, processing the fact that one of the people you met this past few months was your soulmate. Well, you’ve only really interacted with two people, Kasamatsu…no, you’re sure it’s not him; you’re sure you would have felt something. Then…it’s probably Bokuto, you realize.

You’d decided you would try for your soulmate; try for love when you met him. But now that you know it’s Bokuto...you can’t do that to him. You can’t do that to Bokuto, who’s always so excited about everything; who’s always ready to help you; who always makes you feel like you’re better than who you really are. Bokuto deserves better. Better than you, who’s been with so many other while he’s been faithfully waiting. He deserves so much better, you think.

You have never regretted your life decisions more than you did at that moment. Regrets, you realize, are the absolute bane of your existence.

The same day, you have a meeting with Bokuto to wrap up some final ends of your project. The door to their apartment is open, and you let yourself in, the weight of your realization a few moments prior is heavy as you greet Akaashi.

He smiles at you softly in greeting; you and Akaashi had gotten closer as a result of Bokuto’s extrovertedness.

Bokuto bounds toward you excitedly, pointing toward his hair, which, now that you notice, looks more cleanly done than it was before, “(NAME), HEY, HEY, HEY!” He greets you as you laugh, “Hi Bo, what’s up?”

“Akaashi redyed my hair today, and guess what!”

“What?” you humour him, humming as you go through the motion of taking off your cardigan. “There was a grey hair in between my black ones!”

You freeze, unable to respond. How coincidental that on the same day you discover Bokuto is your soulmate; he finds out he has one too. You don’t notice Akaashi watching you observantly from his post right before the hallway you and Bokuto are in.

You’ve never been great at lying; you know this. You also know that if you run like you so want to, you will give yourself away. So you decide to try to keep a straight face, now painfully aware of Akaashi’s gaze boring a hole into the side of your head.

Bokuto is grinning proudly, both hands on his hips, eyebrows cocked, golden eyes sparkling. “Akaashi and I were making a list,” he chatters, not noticing as your straight face falls. “And (Name),” he turns a bit bashful now, pink visible on his cheeks as his eyes find yours, “We think you’re my soulmate!!” He’s grinning widely at you, albeit a bit more reserved than usual.

He’s clearly nervous. You play with your sleeves anxiously, deciding to let him down gently. You want Bokuto to lead a better life, and you’re sure he can find it with someone, anyone that isn’t you. You open your mouth to tell him no, but something won’t let you. Maybe it’s the way Akaashi’s eyes are drilling into yours from behind Bokuto, telling you not to do what he thinks you’re going to do; telling you not to let him go. Maybe it’s the way Bokuto’s face falls as you keep silent; the way his whole body seems to droop, the way the light that had been shimmering in his eyes dims.

And maybe it’s the crestfallen expression on his face; that’s how you know you can’t do this to Bokuto. You could never break his heart like that. You just hope that when he knows of your past; you just hope he won’t be hurt. You’ve lived with the weight of your life decisions for a while now; he is yet to find out. You regret not being there for your grandma; but you want to be there for him if he’ll let you.

“(Name)?” Bokuto’s quieter than usual voice snaps you out of your anxiety-ridden thoughts. “I-” You hesitate, but one look at his eyes, and you know you have to tell him, “I am your soulmate, Bokuto.”

He perks up almost immediately, throwing his fisted hands into the air triumphantly, “I knew it!”

“I-” You shuffle around anxiously, “But I need to, um, tell you something.”

Bokuto falters as he takes you in, finally realizing you have something important to say. “Sure.” he nods, glancing toward Akaashi, who slips into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly, but not before one warning look back at you. You and Akaashi are friends; but you know Bokuto will always come before you.

You turn your attention back to Bokuto, who’s looking at you confusedly. “So what’d ya want to tell me?” He asks, golden eyes softening as he looks at you, sleek silver eyebrows knitting together uncharacteristically gently.

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, but you swallow it down, remembering the way Bokuto had looked a few minutes ago. He needs to know, and then he can decide whether or not he wants you.

You proceed to tell him the whole story, and his reactions are displayed on his face, clear for all to see. When you get to the part about your life in Tokyo, his lips quirk downward a little, and you wince.

“Bo, you – you deserve so much better.” You finish softly, eyes looking down. It’s quiet for a little while, Bokuto’s silence is unnerving and you wish the earth could swallow you.

“I don’t think so.” Bokuto’s voice makes you look up slowly, (e/c) pools hesitantly meeting his own golden ones, which are burning fiercely as they look at you. His arms are crossed and his face is pulled into an intense thinking expression.

When he notices you look up, he leans toward you with resolve. “You may have done all that, but that was before we met, before I was even born. What matters is that you picked yourself up, and you worked hard to come here and stay here.” You nod hesitantly, a little surprised; Bokuto’s acting very maturely, but then again, you suppose he always has been, a little bit. He just never showed it much.

“Besides,” Bokuto continues, a smile settling on his features, “You had that one moment, right? The moment where people realize they love someone. I had it.” He says unabashedly, “That’s how I know I don’t care about your past.” He says proudly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“So you don’t mind that I-”

“A little.” He admits, but he flashes a determined smile at you as he says his next words, “But if you’ve felt that moment, then I know you’re not going anywhere.” He says, and you search his golden orbs for any signs that he’s lying; but there’s none.

He loves you, you realize. He doesn’t care. The moment he’s talking about; you’ve felt it. You feel it every time you’re with him. You love him. The last realization has you throwing yourself across the sofa and into his arms. Bokuto catches you easily, strong arms winding around your frame as he laughs. You can feel his laughter as the rumbles in his chest, and you are hit with an overwhelming wave of affection.

“I’ve felt that moment too.” You mumble into his chest. He laughs again, and you imagine those golden eyes crinkling at the corners, and the whites of his teeth showing beneath a wide smile. “I love you.” You say quietly, but he hears, and his arms tighten around you.

Regret, you think, is the bane of your existence, but it’s also what pushed you to tell Bokuto the truth, so maybe it’s a little helpful after all.

(You and Bokuto get an 89 on your Romeo and Juliet project. The final version turned out much better than what you’d had before – Bokuto had a lot to do with that. When you find out your grade, he peppers your face with small, happy kisses, his hair tickling you as you chuckle gently, and weave your hands into his hair, smiling at him.)

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