#[Only Fair That I Get To Interfere With... Plans He Decided To Hesitate On. :)]

[lostmemory-zip]

[Oops! Seems Like Your Letters Got Lost!]

[And I, Perhaps, Was Too Hasty In Trying To Clean This Before G's Brat Saw...]

[kpop-zone]

Red Velvet reaction to another idol flirting with their crush

Irene

“You know that you’re going to go viral with that resting bitch face of yours, right?”

Sooyoung’s voice ripped Joohyun from her train of thoughts and she looked at the younger member in confusion.

“What?”

She asked, having been too deep in thought to fully understand what Sooyoung had been saying.

“I said that you should pull yourself together and stop stabbing Jisoo with your gaze. We’re in public after all. Someone might take a picture and figure out that you have a crush on Y/N.”

Sooyoung replied and Joohyun gasped loudly.

“That’s not true! None of the things that you’ve just said.”

She shot back, praying that she wouldn’t start blushing to reveal that she was lying. But of course, her body betrayed her. Right after she had closed her mouth, Joohyun could feel how her face suddenly felt incredibly hot, causing Sooyoung to smirk smugly.

“Sure...At least try to make it less obvious.”

The younger member chuckled in amusement before walking away to greet another idol that was only vaguely familiar to Joohyun. Under other circumstances, Joohyun probably wouldn’t have just put up with the mockery of Sooyoung, but today she didn’t feel like starting a discussion with her. Instead, her gaze automatically steered back to Jisoo and you, sitting just a few tables further to the right and looking like you had the time of your lives together. Inwardly, Joohyun cursed the organizer of this award show for putting Blackpink at one table with your group while at the same time also feeling embarrassed for being this jealous. It was ridiculous. The two of you had never even really talked with each other due to Joohyun’s incapability to start conversations with people that she didn’t know. Still, no matter how hard Joohyun tried to be rational, she couldn’t silence her jealous nature. Her eyes automatically wandered back to you and Jisoo over and over again, making her wish that she were brave enough to walk up to you to intervene. But she knew that she would never be. All that she could do was to wait and hope that someday, some organizer would have mercy with her and put her on the same table with you.

Seulgi

“I don’t know how you can stay so calm.”

Yeri looked at Seulgi with an impressed expression, causing Seulgi to tilt her head to the side in confusion.

“Why shouldn’t I be calm?”

She asked and Yeri sighed as if she were disappointed in the older member.

“You are so oblivious, Seulgi, it’s incredible. Taeyang is very obviously flirting with Y/N.”

The maknae replied while pointing at you, standing a few feet down the hallway. Only now Seulgi realized that Taeyang was indeed standing unnecessarily close to you and seemed to be very keen to be on his best behavior. Subconsciously, Seulgi started to observe the two of you for a while and she felt her heart getting heavy when she saw you laughing at something that Taeyang had said.

“I think you should do something.”

Yeri’s voice suddenly appeared very close to Seulgi’s ear, causing her to whip her head to the side in surprise. The maknae’s face was only inches apart from Seulgi’s and her eyes were glistening mischievously. Feeling like she had been caught red-handed, Seulgi quickly looked away to hide the faint blush on her cheeks and cleared her throat.

“Do something? What are you talking about? Y/N can talk with whoever. I have no right to interfere.”

She tried to sound like she meant what she was saying, but to her dismay, Seulgi couldn’t hide that she was bothered by Taeyang’s behavior. Involuntarily, her gaze wandered back to the two of you and she wished that Yeri would have left her in the belief that you were just talking with an old friend.

“Well I’m not saying that you should challenge Taeyang to a duel. Just walk over there and say hi. Make your presence known and leave a lasting impression.”

Yeri winked, causing Seulgi to helplessly look back and forth between you and the personification of the devil on her shoulder next to her. Wouldn’t it be rude if she disturbed you? But on the other hand, saying hi couldn’t harm anybody, right? Still conflicted, Seulgi started to make her way over to you while practicing what to say in her head. When she was only a few steps in front of you though, she still hadn’t been able to from a single coherent sentence that didn’t make her seem like a pathetic stalker and a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment suddenly washed over her. How was she supposed to leave a lasting impression when Taeyang looked like that? This whole plan suddenly felt like a suicide mission, making Seulgi come to an abrupt halt. She had to get away before she would only make a fool of herself. To her dismay, however, she caught your attention right when she wanted to turn around, causing her eyes to widen. You looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her to reveal the reason for the disturbance. But Seulgi’s braincells seemed to have already signed off for the day and refused to provide her with a suiting explanation. Embarrassed, Seulgi opened and closed her mouth soundlessly until she couldn’t bear the humiliation anymore and simply waved at you.

“Hi.”

She muttered breathlessly before making a hard turn to the right to run away. In the corner of her eye, Seulgi could see how Yeri facepalmed herself and she felt her cheeks starting to glow. To be fair, she did make a lasting impression. Maybe not the one that she had planned though.

Wendy

“I’m going to go say hi to Y/N.”

Seungwan stated nonchalantly as she stood up, trying to be as unsuspicious as possible.

“Is someone jealous?”

Joohyun giggled before Seungwan had the chance to walk away, causing her cheeks to heat up involuntarily. Apparently her plan to be unsuspicious hadn’t worked that well...

“I’m not jealous...I just want to say hi.”

She mumbled, managing to make her members laugh who were able to detect her bad lie in an instant. Bashfully, Seungwan avoided the mocking looks of her members and quickly fled the scene before they would have the chance to tease her more. Of course, she was jealous. But she couldn’t say that out loud, because then she would have to admit that she for one, had a crush on you and for another, was immature enough to be jealous. And she wasn’t ready to admit either of those things. Therefore, she told herself that she just wanted to say hi to you because she liked you very much...as a friend. Still feeling the watchful gazes of her members, Seungwan quickly made her way over to you, trying not to think about all the mockery that she had to go through later. When she had almost reached your table, you finally looked up from your lively conversation with the idol next to you and met her eyes.

“Wendy!”

Your face lit up as soon as you recognized her, and Seungwan’s heart forgot to beat for a second. It wasn’t fair for someone to have such a mesmerizing smile. How was she supposed to make this seem like a casual conversation if every single cell in her body told her to shower you with compliments? Nevertheless, Seungwan wanted to try her best not to let the effect that you had on her show.

“Oh hey, Y/N. I haven’t even seen you there.”

Seungwan replied, hoping that she had managed to lie better this time.

“Yeah I fade a bit into the background tonight. I have the honor to sit next to Jinah today.”

You snickered jokingly, not knowing that your statement had sparked Seungwan’s jealousy even more.

“If that’s not a reason to be jealous...”

She smiled forced, causing Jinah and you to laugh, oblivious to the hidden meaning of her statement.

“Do you want to sit with us for a while?”

You asked while pointing at the vacant chair next to you and Seungwan helplessly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. On the one hand, she didn’t want to watch Jinah flirting with you all night. But on the other hand, she also knew that it was pathetic to be jealous. If Jinah wanted to flirt with you, she could. And you were even allowed to flirt back. Therefore, Seungwan quickly shook her head and declined your offer gratefully.

“I would love to, but I have to go back to the others. But maybe we could meet up for a coffee sometime soon?”

She smiled, hoping that her nervousness didn’t show.

“Yeah that would be great! I’ll text you.”

You replied without hesitation, causing Seungwan to grin. Maybe Jinah had the upper hand tonight but she would not go down without a fight.

Joy

Sooyoung couldn’t believe her eyes. The way that Donghun leaned into you was simply outrageous. She had never made a secret out of her interest for you, so how dare he flirt with you. For a while, she observed the two of you from the corner of her eye with her arms crossed and jaw clenched but when Donghun looked a little too confident in his victory, Sooyoung decided to remind him that this was a competition. Abruptly she leaped to her feet and walked over to you, making sure to sway her hips confidently while keeping her gaze fixed on you. It didn’t take long till she had caught Donghun’s and your attention and she smirked to herself.

“Hey, Y/N. Donghun...”

While Sooyoung greeted you with a soft smile, she only gifted Donghun with a cold nod, causing him to look at her in confusion. You, however, didn’t seem to notice the tension between your suitors and reciprocated her smile happily.

“Hey! How are you liking the night so far?”

You asked, trying to start a conversation and Sooyoung gladly took the offer.

“Well there were some complications. But I think everything is taken care of right now.”

She shortly threw a piercing gaze at Donghun who finally seemed to have gotten the hint before devoting all her attention to you. The two of you started to chat like you had known each other all your lives and Sooyoung used this chance to get closer to you while managing to drive Donghun further away. He tried several times to get a foothold in your conversation, but Sooyoung made sure to block all his attempts. She didn’t have a problem with others talking with you, but Donghun had simply taken it too far tonight. She just had to make sure that you still knew that she was interested in you. If you ended up choosing Donghun or any of your other admirers over her, she would accept the defeat. But as long as the fight for your heart wasn’t yet decided, she wouldn’t let her competitors score a hit.

Yeri

“That’s a little close isn’t it?”

Yeri huffed, causing her members to look at her in confusion. When she realized that they couldn’t follow her drift, she nodded her head towards you and Arin.

“She’s so clingy, it must be annoying.”

Yeri rolled her eyes and the other members looked at each other before starting to giggle.

“I don’t think Y/N looks annoyed. Quite the opposite actually.”

Sooyoung smirked and Yeri gasped appalled.

“That’s not true! Y/N is obviously uncomfortable.”

She didn’t know whether she was trying to convince Sooyoung or herself, but when she looked back at you, she felt a pout forming on her lips. You really looked like you were actually enjoying Arin’s attention. Involuntarily, Yeri sighed in frustration while mentally imagining how she walked up to you to wordlessly grab your wrist and pull you away. A small part of herself told her that she should just do it, but most of her brain told her that it would be a horrible idea. It would cause way too much drama and she wasn’t even really sure if you liked her back.

Therefore, she just kept staring at you with a grumpy expression while wondering whether she had a chance against Arin. She was just in the middle of compiling an imaginary pros and cons list when you suddenly looked into her direction and the two of you locked eyes. Startled, Yeri gasped before hastily looking away, but she knew that it was too late. You had definitely noticed that she had been staring at you. For a moment, Yeri weighted her options (1. hiding under the table 2. running away or 3. talking with you), concluding at last that she had to make sure that you knew that she didn’t hate you. Crimson-faced, she made her way over to you while cursing herself for being so embarrassing.

“Hi...”

Yeri awkwardly greeted Arin and you once she was standing in front of you, wishing that she could just evaporate into thin air. Opposing to her expectations, however, you greeted her back friendly and even seemed to be glad that she had finally managed to approach you. Taken by surprise, Yeri simply stared at you for a while before deciding that she had to stop making a fool of herself and to start impressing you instead. What Arin could do, she could do better.

[cacoetheswriting]

lonely this christmas

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild mild cursing, mainly just fluff !!! Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Reader admits to Spencer she will be spending the holidays alone but he’s got other plans.

A/N: starting off the month of december with a christmas centred fic!! hope you like it <3

-

Being alone on Christmas wasn’t unfamiliar to Spencer. In fact it was pretty much the opposite. Being alone on Christmas was typical, ordinary. 

The nature of his job being what it was, he usually ended up working over the holidays anyway. Therefore he never made any plans with his mom because most times he just ended up disappointing her. Being alone at Christmas was fine. Being a disappointment however, completely different story.

As years went by Diana stopped noticing his absence. Of course if Spencer was to visit her at the sanitarium over Christmas she would welcome him with open arms, but he never does. He used to feel incredibly guilty about it, but that too passed with time. 

There was no indication that this year would be any different so he kept his schedule clear. However, the twenty-fifth of December approached fast. Very fast. The closer it got the more it was shaping to be the first holiday season, in a long time, the team would get to spend with their families. And even Spencer found himself considering going home to Nevada; seeing his mom. 

A tab of the airline website was constantly open on his desktop. He checked it regularly; hovering over the option to buy a ticket. 

That’s how you caught him one day. 

You observed from your own desk as Spencer leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding the mouse. The wheels inside his brain clearly turning; evaluating all of the options and possible outcomes.

“Hey, doctor.” You called out grabbing his attention. “If you spend any more time thinking about whether you should go home for Christmas, all the good seats will be gone.” 

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” “As always.” You shot him a playful wink as he turned to once again look at his screen. 

“There. Bought.” Spencer exclaimed after a brief moment of silence. “My mom will be happy.” “When was the last time you seen her?” You asked curiously. “It has been more than six months at this stage.” He answered while standing up. 

“Coffee?” He gestured to the empty mug on your desk. You nodded. “You read my mind.” 

The two of you walked towards the kitchenette in the office. It was quite late on a Friday night meaning everyone had cleared out for the weekend. Only the usual suspects remained; Spencer and you.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?” “Three years ago. How about you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Oh, I honestly don’t even remember.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

“So your family must have been happy to hear you were getting the chance this year to spend the holidays with them.” The brunette doctor switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the wall while you elegantly hopped up onto the counter. 

“Actually, I didn't tell them.” 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How come?” 

He watched intently as you chewed on your bottom lip - a bad habit you failed miserably to break. In that second of silence you wondered whether you should tell him the truth. He was always so open with you, honest. It would only be fair to repay him with the same sincerity. So you took in a quick breath, and exhaled it quietly before looking up to meet his amiable gaze. 

“My mom and I got into this huge fight a couple of weeks ago. She tried to set me up with this guy because in her eyes it’s unacceptable that I’m single. She doesn't think it’s right that my younger sister is getting married next summer and I haven't had one relationship in my life that lasted longer than a month.” A soft sigh escaped you. “I told her to butt out, using much harsher language than that of course.” Your mouth twirled into a smile; trying to make light of this conversation. Being no stranger to your frequent use of profanity Spencer smirked. 

“We haven't spoken since. She hasn't formally invited me over for the holidays which she always does, even if she knows I won’t be able to make it, and whenever I bring it up with my dad or my siblings they change the topic so.” You shrugged once again while nervously dangling your legs. “It’s easier not to go.” 

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in all of the information you just unloaded. Shaking your head you reached over to grab the coffee pot and poured some into your mug. 

“I’m sorry doctor. I didn’t mean to just lay it all on you like that.” 

He stepped towards you. “Don’t be.” Holding his own cup in front of him, he smiled kindly. “Thank you for telling me.” You began to pour the black hot liquid into his mug; a slight shake to your hand. “Thank you for listening.” “Anytime.”

Spencer placed his full cup on the counter beside you and began to rummage through the cupboards in search for sugar. “Y/N I gotta ask, and obviously if you don't want to answer me you don't have to.” He cleared his throat as you took a sip of your bitter black coffee. “Why didn’t you want to go on a date with the man your mom suggested?” 

Once he successfully located the sugar, he straightened his shirt and plopped two cubes into the hot beverage. He offered you one but you shook your head, taking another sip. 

“I get that it’s not really my place but it just seems a small price to pay for being able to spend Christmas with your loved ones.” 

“If you must know doctor, I prefer to meet people through work. Prison systems and such.” You joked, a wide smile gracing your features. Spencer rolled his eyes. “And how is that going for you?” “Surprisingly well. I have a date shortly after we’re back from the Christmas break.” He arched his brow and smiled at you; playing along as you continued. “Solid guy. Only murdered five people.”

You beamed at the brunette doctor who was grinning back. “Maybe I should consider adding prisons to my dating pool.” You let out an over-exaggerated  gasp and placed your free hand over your chest. “Is doctor Spencer Reid really on the market?” 

Spencer shook his head. His light curls bouncing finely, matching his every move. He lowered his lips to the brim of his mug and took a sip of his coffee before focusing on you. “No, but for the right girl I’d consider it.” 

Without thinking you raised your free arm and adjusted his tie. Flattening down the edge of his collar, you could feel his eyes on you. Yet for some reason you were suddenly afraid to look up and meet his gaze. Strange. Or maybe not so strange.

“Lucky girl.” You said in a mere whisper. Letting your hand fall, you stepped off the counter with a light bounce. Spencer cleared his throat and the two of you walked back to your seats. 

The next few hours were spent working in silence. You tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork on your desk, yet instead found yourself glancing at the young doctor every other second - secretly hoping he would also be peeking up at you. And he was. Just not when you were looking at him.

“Y/N if you want you can come with me to Nevada, spend Christmas with me and my mom. ” Spencer proposed out of the blue. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, slowly putting it on. You smiled at him. “Thank you doctor but I will honestly be okay alone.” Pause. “Plus, I wouldn't want to interfere.” 

He was about to protest, say you wouldn't be interrupting, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to seem pushy. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He reached for his bag and threw the strap over his head. “Just do it quickly or all the good seats will be gone.” He teased. You giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. ” 

The brunette agent hesitated. He swayed on his heel for a moment before approaching your desk. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asked, eyes locking with yours. “There’s still a couple of things I want to get done but thank you for the kind offer.” Spencer nodded. A faint look of disappointment appeared on his face. “Goodnight Y/N.” “Goodnight doctor.” 

Christmas was upon you in the blink of an eye. On the last day before break the team exchanged Secret Santa presents before enjoying a pizza party. This year you had Penelope who squealed over her gift as everyone watched in amusement; you included. Resting against the wall, you observed as the blonde jumped around the room with joy. Her smile made you smile. 

“Good job on Penelope’s gift.” Spencer appeared beside you holding two plastic cups filled to the brim with eggnog. He handed you one before making himself comfortable next to you, his arm pressed gently to yours. “I don’t know what you're talking about doctor.” You responded, tilting your head slightly to look at him. 

“I like your Christmas sweater.” A small smile circled your lips as you reached out to flick the little bell sown onto the top of the Santas hat on his jumper. Spencer chuckled. “Thank you. You know, I really couldn't decide between this or the one with the Home Alone reference.” “Ah, the trusted Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal sweater.” “That would be the one, yes.” The two of you beamed at each other. 

“I’m surprised you know what Home Alone is doctor.” You teased, nudging him playfully in the arm. Spencer laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was more intrigued by the booby traps than the plot of the movie.” He retorted as you sipped on the eggnog; slightly rolling your eyes at his response. “Of course you were. Don’t tell me you tested them out too?” 

He averted his gaze without responding, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well...” 

You couldn't help but giggle. Slowly, you leaned in towards him so that your lips were now at his ear. The brunette agent shivered as your hot breath hit his skin, however he didn't move away. 

“Don’t worry doctor, I did too.” You whispered. 

Instantly, he turned to look at you once again. His face was now inches away from yours, and as he stared oddly into your eyes the air caught in your throat. The two of you hovered right there for a moment, not moving and quite soundless, simply feeling each other's presence - as if there was no-one else in the room, no party. 

Eventually you broke the eye contact and took a step to your right, moving away from him. Suddenly feeling timid, you took another sip of your beverage while your free hand ran through your hair. Spencer also looked away. His mind racing a million miles per hour; he should have kissed you, right? No. Not in front of all these people, your colleagues. That would be bad. Unprofessional. Would you have even wanted him to kiss you? Did you like him like that? He hoped you did.

The party soon drew to a close. You were lost in conversation with Emily while Spencer was trying to teach Morgan and Rossi some card tricks. Your gaze kept averting in the direction of the young doctor every once in a while; Emily of course noticed. “Tell me again why you’re not going to Nevada with our resident genius?” A puzzled look now present on your face. “How did you-” 

“Reid told Morgan who told Garcia who told me.” She interrupted. You laughed at the ridiculousness of what she just came out of her mouth. “It’s like I’m in high school all over again.” She laughed under her breath.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“So, why aren’t you going?” Emily pried. A quiet sigh escaped your lips. “Like I told him, I don’t want to interfere.” She rolled her eyes; not buying into your bullshit. “He wouldn't have invited you-” “Fuck, please I don’t want-” She raised her hands in front of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” 

Glancing at the time, you excused yourself wishing Emily a wonderful and happy Christmas. Quickly and quietly, you headed to your desk and put on your winter coat. As you grabbed your handbag you turned to face the remaining partygoers: “Happy holidays everyone!”. Your eyes briefly locked with Spencers who shot you a shy smile as you mouthed ‘Merry Christmas doctor.’ before hurrying out the door. 

Two days later it was the twenty-fifth of December. You woke up on your couch, having fallen asleep during Christmas movie marathon, to the sound of your phone ringing. 

Yawning, you reached for the device. Spencer. Answering, you pressed it to your ear and croaked; “Hello.”. 

“I hope I didn't wake you.” “You did actually.” You responded yawning once again and gradually scrambling to your feet. You ambled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee maker. “But I could never be mad at you doctor.” “I’m glad to hear that.” 

There was a short pause.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice kind. “I’m okay, no need to worry about me. Shit-” “Y/N?”

“Sorry. I just realised I’m out of coffee grounds.”

Spencer chuckled on the other line. “It’s not funny doctor. I’ve no coffee and everything is closed because it’s Christmas.” “You could always switch to tea for the day.” Rolling your eyes, you smirked. “Right, because I’m such an avid tea drinker.” 

There was another short pause.

“How was your flight? How’s Nevada? How’s your mom?” You asked changing the topic, making conversation. The young doctor didn't respond. “Hey, are you there?” The line cut-off. Weird.

‘He’ll call back later.’, you thought and headed for your bathroom.

An hour later you were showered and dressed. You switched on the lights on your poorly decorated Christmas tree and were about to make yourself comfortable on the sofa when a knock on the door caught your attention. You scurried over, without looking through the peephole to see who it was, you opened it.

“Spencer.” 

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” 

The brunette doctor smiled as you furrowed your brows. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was. I got back early this morning.” 

He waited for you to invite him in before shimmying passed. He set down two tote bags on the kitchen counter before turning to look at you once again. Lost for words, you locked the door and approached the young doctor. Slowly you peeked inside the bags. “Supplies.” He simply stated while taking off his coat. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “You didn't have to do this doctor.” “I know.” He shrugged before reaching into one of the bags and unpacking the items. “I wanted to.” He held up a bag of coffee grounds and you couldn't help but giggle delicately. 

“Thank you.” Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the bag sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer froze feeling the sensation too. Nervously, he let his hand fall but the half-smile on his face remained. 

“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” You asked as you walked around to the coffee machine. “I packed what I had at home.” Nodding, you began to prepare two cups. As the appliance whirred, you turned in your spot. “What about your mom? Wouldn't she have wanted to spend Christmas Day with you?” 

Spencer continued to unpack the bags, neatly placing each item on the counter in front of him. “We spent all of yesterday together.” Pause. “And besides, she’s the one that urged me to come here.” He peered up at you, resting his palms down on the kitchen counter. The second his hazel eyes locked with yours, the flush of your cheeks turned a slender pink. 

Not really thinking you ushered back towards him. The brunette doctor watched you attentively. Gently, you placed one hand on top of his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Lucky me.” You whispered staring deep into his eyes. 

Spencers smile spread wider in unison with yours. After a few seconds of pure comfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “Do you think your prisoner boyfriend would mind if I asked you out on a date?” A faint giggle escaped your lips as the shade of your jowl turned from pink to bright red. “Even if he does-” You took another step towards Spencer, closing the space between you. “-I think you could handle him.” 

Spencer chuckled. Using his free hand, he placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb stroked your cheek in the process and you angled into his pleasant touch. 

“Thank you for being here.” You muttered, unintentionally chewing on your bottom lip. 

He cupped your face as his gaze moved briefly down to your mouth before once again locking with yours. “Thank you for having me.” His voice soothing, not quite matching the fervour in his eyes. 

In the space of a single heartbeat, he leaned down and his lips crushed against yours passionately. You let go of his hand and placed both your palms on his chest; tugging lightly at his shirt to try and pull him in even closer. Spencer did not waste a second, his now free arm moved elegantly around your waist.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He gently pressed his forehead to yours as you smiled. “Merry Christmas doctor.” “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

-

masterlist

[procrastinatorimagines]

Hostage

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: hostage situation

Word Count: 1,727

Requests:  Can I have a jayxreader imagine where reader likes Jay, but thinks him and Erin are a couple, she talks to Kim about it, and so she kinda avoids them both, then she somehow gets In like a hostage situation and Jay is panicking about it and when they go in he goes to her to check on her and she just brushes him off and ignores him more 😔 and when they get back to PD he corners her In locker room to ask why she’s ignoring him and confessions are made 

   // AND // 

Hi! Could I request a Jay x reader in which goes crazy with worry when reader exchanges herself in a hostage situation (exchange wasn't planned beforehand)! Thank you!

It was strange, the things you thought about when you had a gun pointed at your head, and you’d know, this wasn’t exactly the first time. 

When the drug exchange Intelligence organised had gone sideways in the backroom of a bar in Canaryville and a patron had been taken hostage, you’d decided to do the smartest and most well thought out thing you could think of: you offered to take her place at the other end of the barrel.

Needless to say, this wasn’t the turn of events your unit had planned for, and you just knew the exact conversation you’d be having with Voight about your recklessness later. If there was a later. 

But a civilian was safe and out of harms way, you’d done your duty.

Your Sergeant had sent you in with Jay to make the deal, though you weren’t actually partners, but Jay had the Canaryville insight you needed to make an introduction and Erin had spoken to your suspect in an official capacity the previous day, so Voight had paired the two of you up together. 

Now, you couldn’t help but think about the conversation you’d had with Kim, your actual partner, that morning about the whole situation, despite the gun to your head and Jay panicking in front of you, unable to give up your covers but trying his best to talk down your erratic suspect. 

The whole situation being your feelings for Jay. Oh yeah, you had it bad. And the make it even worse, you were pretty sure he and Erin were together anyway. Kim had told you she wasn’t sure, but everyone had noticed the tension between Jay and Voight recently, and his not so subtle warnings about keeping things professional with Erin. He always swore it was, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

So you’d decided to try and avoid them both, sort out your feelings, but apparently that was too much to ask for when you’d found yourself partnered up with Jay. 

“Listen man, we can work this out okay, we have the money, we showed it to you,” Jay tried to reason with Barney, the suspect in question with the very much loaded gun. He’d been jumpy from the get go, twitching during the entire deal, and Jay had wanted to pull out. You, however, had had to be stubborn, still annoyed about him and Erin even though you’d had no right to be, and so you’d insisted you stay. 

Voight was so going to chew you out for this.

“Nah, nah man I don’t like this, something’s not right,” Barney shook his head, his gun hand very much as unsteady as the rest of him - was he high? Not that it mattered in the moment, you didn’t have to be a sniper to find your mark when the barrel of your gun was firmly pressed into the side of a person’s forehead.

Jay took a deep breath, eyes wide with worry as he looked to you, “take the money,” he blurted, hands still out to try and show Barney he wasn’t a threat.

“No man, the deals not happening-” Barney tried to tell Jay again, but he only shook his head.

“I’m not talking about that deal, okay? Take the money and give me back Rachel,” he offered instead, still using your cover name in an attempt to keep the situation from going nuclear.

You blinked, surprised by his offer, you hadn’t expected him to go quite so off the book. Barney seemed to hesitate too, “the money for the girl?” He clarified slowly, other arm slacking a little from where it had been wrapped around the top of your chest and shoulders.

Jay nodded immediately, slowly and deliberately reaching for the bag of money on the table and dropping it at his feet, Barney’s eyes following it with eager curiosity. He may have been suspicious, but he wasn’t very bright. 

The whole point of the exchange was to see the drugs and make the bust, not that pointing a gun at someone wasn’t cause for an arrest enough, but you’d needed to see the product to link it back to a bigger supplier, without that, you were back to square one and out a fair amount of money. 

But Jay didn’t seem to be thinking about that right now, he seemed to be entirely focused on you.

“I kick you the money at the same time as you let her go, how about that?” Jay negotiated, not really hiding his concern. Part of you wanted to object, this wasn’t exactly the objective, but you weren’t in any position to argue, if you’d just listened to Jay in the first place this wouldn’t have happened. 

Barney mulled it over before nodding, the large bag of cash being too good to resist as his grip on you started to relax. Jay kicked over the money, gesturing for him to let you go and take it. 

Hell no, you thought. As soon as his grip on you had relaxed enough you aimed a sharp elbow to his gut, throwing another one into his nose as he stumbled back, spinning around and disarming him before he knew what was happening.��

Intelligence was bursting in in seconds, Jay rushing to you to make sure you were okay. “Y/N, Y/N are you okay?” He reached a hand out to your shoulder but you brushed him off, shaking out your arm and rubbing your elbow.

“Fine,” you basically snapped, surprising him. Honestly, you were more annoyed at yourself at this point, but for some reason you were taking it out on Jay. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you needed some space right now, heading past him to Kim as Erin cuffed Barney, trying not to look at Jay’s confused and hurt face. 

-

A tonne of paperwork and an ear full from Voight later you found yourself sat in the locker room at the end of your shift, head in hands as you thought about the day, unable to make yourself move. 

You’d let your personal feelings for Jay interfere with your job, something you’d wanted to specifically try to avoid by avoiding him and Erin in general, but it clearly hadn’t worked. What were you going to do?

“You still here?” A voice came from behind you, making you jump as you looked back to see Jay wandering in, heading for his locker as he regarded you carefully. 

“Just heading out,” you replied coldly, forcing yourself up to grab your things out of your locker as quickly as you could.

Jay, however, had other ideas. As you slammed your locker shut and turned to leave, echoing a generic ‘night’ in his direction as you did, he stepped quickly into your path.

You nearly collided into him, blinking in confusion. “Jay-” you began but he cut you off.

“You’ve been avoiding me for days, and today- Y/N, I don’t understand what I did, I thought we were at least friends, but you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder and I need to know why,” he said, clearly getting something off of his chest that he’d been debating saying for a while.

You took a breath, not sure what you’d expected really, of course you couldn’t have kept it up forever, but you weren’t really prepared to answer him. “I- I’m not- look, I know I messed up today-”

“It’s not just about today Y/N, but if I’ve done something to offend you I’m sorry, we need to talk about it though, sort it out so it doesn’t affect our job again,” Jay explained, expression softening as he added: “you could have been seriously hurt today, and I couldn’t handle that.”

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, mind racing to come up with something to day besides telling him the truth, “it’s not you, really it’s not, I’m figuring something out... it won’t happen again,” you promised. 

“If something’s wrong, I’m here if you need to talk,” he offered, “I’m worried Y/N, I care about you and I-” Jay stopped himself, as if saying something he shouldn’t have.

“I’m good Jay, and I don’t want to keep you, if Erin’s waiting upstairs-” you slipped up, wincing in realisation as Jay gave you a puzzled look.

“Erin? Why would Erin be waiting, she went home about an hour ago I think,” Jay told you, “you almost sound like Voight.”

“Is he... wrong?” You dared ask, kicking yourself for even doing it, definitely not being subtle anymore. Though, you hadn’t exactly been subtle before. 

“About me and Erin? There’s nothing going on between me and Erin, she’s not the one I... I just, no, I don’t like Erin like that,” Jay fumbled an explanation, looking a little sheepishly at his feet.

“Oh,” you replied, sounding a little too happy about that fact as you thought about his words, “but you do... like someone like that?”

Jay looked back up at you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you know?” He asked, looking at you in a way you couldn’t quite describe. 

You looked at him questioningly, mind trying to figure out who he was talking about as he looked at you, and then it dawned. Was he talking about you? He couldn’t be, could he? No, surely not. But the way he had said that, the way he was looking at you...

“Oh,” you gasped as he cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s not like I expect anything-” he started but you cut him off with a surprised laugh. Well, he’d been honest with you, the least you could do was be honest back.

“Jay, that’s kind of why I’ve been avoid you,” you said, clarifying quickly when you saw his face fall, “not because I thought you liked me, but because I thought you were with Erin, and I liked you, I like you, and I didn’t want to be weird or awkward, which I guess it exactly how I ended up acting really, but...” - breath god damn it - “I feel the same way, is I guess what I’m trying badly to get across.”

There was a pause before Jay smiled, you loved that smile, “can I buy you a drink?” He offered, gesturing towards the door. 

You smiled back, “I’d like that.”

[emmys-grimoire]

Lesson 52 analysis + 53 predictions

Turning this into a routine thing now! They’re fun to write and they’re popular (moreso than my actual commentary posts lmao).

Y’all like my ramblings.

Things guessed correctly from prior lesson

The House of Lamentation was an illusion produced by the fairies

The arc culminated in the completion of the Trial of Patience (star received via Simeon)

The illusion did a number on Simeon's feelings as well due to his fondness for Lucifer and the brothers

They shoved Mammon and Luke off to the side and plopped them back in only after the Satan/Simeon arc was complete. There was no arc for Luke. To be fair, though, they did get more content than I expected even so.

Things guessed wrong

The banshee didn't show up at all. It was a red herring.

There was no significance to the geranium found in the mysterious book

Our adventure also completed the Trial of Generosity. (I incorrectly attributed this to Diavolo, who actually gave us the Star of Gratitude)

Still ???

Whether or not there is some kind of transfer of memories/experiences going on between the brothers' past selves and present selves due to our meddling in time. We've confirmed that past angel Beelzebub has turned into a glutton in between the time we last saw him and now, but we haven't confirmed if it *is* our meddling that has induced that. Currently, no change has manifested in the present brothers, nor has the timeline of events seemed to have significantly changed.

Whether or not present Lucifer becoming more "angelic" in season 2, in lieu of past angel Lucifer's growing doubt, will be a significant plot point. The parallels are getting stronger, though. (This is elaborated on further down)

It feels like 50/50? I’ll probably keep a list like this going for future analysis/prediction posts just so I can keep track of how right/mistaken I am throughout the playthrough. Might help me make less mistakes in my analysis!

As a general rule I try not to meander too far off into symbolism or out-of-game lore because what I write begins to sound like this:

And this is an otome game that is light on writing and plot. Nine times out of ten, it’s not going to be that deep. So I work with the details given and the plot points shown and try to draw connections within the framework of the story, in an attempt to try to deduce where the devs are taking the plot. Unfortunately for me, the devs like red herrings, and red herrings are designed to mislead you. With me, they are quite successful! I’d like to get better at spotting them.

The book was consequential -- it’s used to imprison Satan later -- but that’s the end of it’s meaning. Maybe the Bible verse had something to do with it, too -- those were some weird ass numbers to just throw in the title -- but maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. 

But enough of that, onwards! We have a lot of points to go over that may be interesting to note, right or not.

Satan the Memory Thief

Back in 50-B we learn that it was Michael who taught the brothers the stories behind the human world constellations. 

When we’re tossed back in time-dreamland (?) again, it is Satan who takes the opportunity to teach the brothers the human world constellations. The room had just been remodeled: Michael hasn’t had the opportunity to give them tours yet. Lucifer mosied into the room so he and the brothers can get the first glimpse.

Sooo if in a future lesson we ask them about where they learned the constellations in the present timeline and they say “oh a guy named Sully, who suspiciously looked just like Satan, taught us!” then we know our meddling is having significant consequences.

It IS worth noting that unlike the prior dream sequence, Satan and Simeon remember what they just went through. This particular time-dream could very well just be an illusion meant to give Satan/Simeon some kind of emotional resolution and nothing else. This is kind of why I hate that they’re bring time travel back into the story: it makes stuff like this confusing and borderline inconsistent. Some sequences may have effects and others may not. 

The chat between Lucifer and Simeon could also be consequential.

“Do you *really* mean that?”

There is a parallel at play here!

After you wake up after dozing off, you go off to find Lucifer and Simeon conversing in a forest clearing, evidently unaware that you’re eavesdropping on them. Simeon says although he knows it is just an illusion, that he was glad to see angel Lucy once more. Angel Lucy is predictably confused, and reassures Simeon that they’ll remain like this forever.

Simeon, of course, knows better. He tells Lucifer that he knows he’s been meeting with Diavolo and he’s having doubts about his place in the Celestial Realm -- and if things really will remain the same. Lucy is caught off guard, and starts to explain with some clear hesitation... and of course we pass out before we could hear his answer.

There’s creepy loud heartbeats when it fades out. Normally I associate them with tense, pivotal decisions -- but it could also just be related to us waking up and returning to reality.

If Simeon ends up being wrong -- and there will be real world consequences to this conversation -- they could be very significant consequences. We’re not sure if the conversation continues for a bit longer after we pass out, but Simeon already woke up before we come to.

Obviously the brothers still fell (they’re still demons in the present), but I wouldn’t underestimate the potential of a butterfly effect changing the circumstances of the Great Celestial War. I kind of hope they don’t do that, though, because they haven’t even begun to explain the present details of that event. We know only the broad strokes. Suddenly changing them to make the resolution between the demons and angels more smooth will feel really forced.

And that parallel I mentioned: Diavolo expresses similar worries and doubt in Lucifer’s conviction in season 2.

I have no doubt Lucifer actually means what he says to Diavolo, unlike his dialogue with Simeon, but Diavolo is aware of just how far Lucifer will go for the sake of his family -- and he’s probably #2 on the priority list, when push comes to shove. Lucifer forsaking the Celestial Realm for Lilith was the thing that brought him to Diavolo in the first place.

Of course, this lesson has Simeon suggesting that Diavolo’s influence on Lucifer was significant prior to all that unfolding, and it may have eventually happened regardless. It was only a matter of when, not how.

Still, Lucifer be writing checks he may not be able to cash. We also get this foreboding warning from Barbatos in Season 2:

As I’ve said before, the inevitable conflict the story was hinting to at this point doesn’t happen in Season 2. Lucifer isn’t forced to make a choice like this. The Night Dagger didn’t demand it.

I’ve also expressed my belief that Season 2 and Season 3 were likely written back-to-back due to the small window of time between their releases, so I believe details overlooked in Season 2 may suddenly become more relevant in Season 3.

It’s worth remembering Diavolo’s growing feelings for MC -- and Lucifer’s inner conflict about it -- were hinted at early in Season 2, as well. It doesn’t really get going until the conclusion of Season 2, leading into Season 3.

Do I have any clue of what this is actually leading up to? Not at all! If it mirrors Season 2′s format, though, it’ll suddenly come to a head in the last 3-5 lessons. I remember feeling equally clueless then, and Season 2 had a lot more foreshadowing...

... a lot of which actually didn’t pan out! But it might now. 

Guardian Angels

Another smaller, but interesting detail. Guardian Angels are indeed a thing.

I think they’re gonna become a thing soon. The devs very sneakily changed a small detail in Season 2, suggesting they might have realized that it may interfere with their plans for later seasons. 

Old version.

New version.

I’m thinking they may have decided giving Michael guardianship of an entire swath of the population was cheating, and they may be individualizing the role of Guardian Angels.

Which leads me to who I think Michael’s chosen human squeeze is:

My man has been scoping him out long before we came around.

It makes sense, too. We know Michael gave his Ring of Wisdom to Solomon, which seems to have kickstarted his career as a demon-pacting sorcerer (though he clearly was a sorcerer before this).

This is a very powerful item, described as the Ring of Light’s counterpart, that would be very useful for a high-ranking angel to possess. I don’t think Michael would fork it over to just anyone, particularly when we remember how he felt compelled to interrogate us via dream hi-jack before the Ring of Light fully came into our possession.

Solomon also makes Michael angst in a way a well-meaning but misbehaving child would make their parent angst:

Solomon also really doesn’t seem to regard Michael like some distant, all-powerful alien being who could smite him out of existence.

Contrast this with how he responds when he’s forced to hang out with Diavolo for a day (he gets more comfortable, but he initially wants to punt the responsibility back to Lucifer ASAP).

And he knows a surprising amount of small details about the guy:

I think Solomon is a significant part of Michael’s long-term plans, but he may not even be fully aware of how. Or he is, and they’re in some kind of mutually beneficial agreement -- possibly related to cross-realm peace -- that we simply haven’t been made aware of yet.

Personally, I think Simeon should be made MC’s ‘official’ Guardian Angel if they’re gonna be a thing with official mechanics behind them. I know Michael is supposed to be the Big Cheese and ridiculously hot, so it may make sense to have him linked to the MC of an otome game because they’re super special too, but Michael may already have Solomon. He shouldn’t get to hog everything. It’s not like assigning Simeon to do job would really inconvenience him, either: MC is Solomon’s apprentice. He can easily work with the arrangement.

Luke may feel left out but he’s a kid so...

Seven Brothers Constellation

We learn there’s a constellation representing the brothers in the Celestial Realm. Everyone there knows the legend, but Luke doesn’t know what the three stars ‘watching over them’ represent. 

He, Mammon, and Satan begin to theorize and Satan suggests they may represent the three realms. The other two like the idea, and Mammon insists the ‘human’ star represents MC. 

He’s probably right, but I’m willing to take it a step further: it represents MC, Diavolo, and Michael. The three “guardians” of their respective realms, and the brothers. Season 3 has been repeatedly beating us over the head with how much Michael still cares for the brothers and his relevance to their upbringing, and likely their future.

It bears repeating: Diavolo and Michael are aiming towards the same goal, though their visions of what peace and harmony looks like may be very different.

Solomon could also qualify as a self-appointed guardian, but I think he lacks the connection to the brothers MC obviously has.

Still, he has the same resolve, and he’s not leaving the story any time soon.

Predictions

I sniff out even the smallest Michael details because he’s clearly the key to whatever is gonna blow up.

This might give us some insight on how the initial dealings with him may unfold:

It’s hard to deduce just what this actually means. Either Michael tends to overthink things that just aren’t that deep (can empathize) and that in itself leads to needless complications, or he’s apt to misread situations and as a result gives poor advice. Or a combination of both.

My initial read on him makes me think that he thinks the best of humans/angels but the worst of demons. He is very, very complimentary towards MC as soon as they start answering his questions.

Am I now? Really?

It could just be the game making characters butter up the MC to make the game more enjoyable for the player of a self-insert character, but dude we just met.

When you tell him you did what you did out of love for Lucifer:

That’s a very telling pause/ellipsis. It’s like his brain momentarily short-circuits and he needs to regain his composure before he continues, and he still doesn’t sound entirely sure of what you just said lol

He also just outright admits he initially thought you must be wicked just because the brothers liked you, and this is a guy who is still fond of them himself. I think he’s having a very hard time with it.

So the inevitable bumps in the roads ahead with him will likely be a result of this, and/or his dad being an asshole. Neither he or Diavolo are actually in charge of the realms they’re overseeing -- they’re both de facto leaders -- so maybe the parents will suddenly barge in and try to knock over their sand castles for whatever reason. It is kind of weird that the exchange program has been agreed to in the first place, particularly on the Celestial Realm’s part.

Regardless, I have no clue what the next arc will be. I know we still have three trials left, but they could combine two again to leave more room for the actual storyline to progress. The climax is going to be the last trial of our sorcerer’s exam, or something happening afterwards. Not sure which one I’m willing to bet on yet: I remember Simeon’s play and the silly Blood Moon contest in Season 2 were what kept use preoccupied for Season 2 until SUDDENLY LUCIFER GETS AMNESIA AND THE WORLD IS IN DANGER AND WE HAVE TO STAB HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE. But they did heavily foreshadow that in the very beginning lol. They just didn’t fill in the blanks until much later.

I wonder what the trial of chastity is gonna be like and how hard we’ll actually fail and the game will need to overcompensate for that

[my-writings-and-musings]

hello!! i loved your last prompt and and i am also severely deprived of that sweet angst hahah;;; would you mind writing it for either swerve or whirl? thank you!! ❤💙

I take it you mean the oxygen prompt, and please correct me if I misunderstood, but if so I've got them here and I made them extra angsty for you! Fair warning there's some mild alien gore in Whirl's.

For the various posts of this prompt, I'll list the parts below!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Swerve

·The two of you often chill in his bar together at odd hours, partially because the ship doesn't technically have a day or night beyond an artificial schedule that affects how bright the lights are, but mostly because you love having the special time just to yourselves and no bot else. You'll chat about earth culture, come up with drink ideas, tell wild stories that lead to even wilder jokes... More often than not you get very little productive done, but Swerve treasures every memory of you laughing atop the bar while he talks.

·It's either late night or early morning, technically, when an alarm briefly sounds before fizzling out. Confused by the lack of follow up commands, Swerve opts on the side of caution when he can't get anyone to respond by communicator, though it looks like they might've just been hit by an electric storm that's briefly knocked everything offline. Still, he follows protocol and seals the two of you inside.

·While the mood has been a little dampened, he refuses to let things get unpleasant, especially with no clear threat to worry about. The two of you decide to chill behind the bar and relax a little bit, as you're both a bit tired but obviously can't get any sleep with things being the way they are, and Swerve takes advantage of the quiet to do even more talking.

·He wants to cuddle with you, but he's way too afraid of rejection to ask, and as a result of that fear your relationship hasn't gone much further than hand holding or a few tender kisses. As even a little peck on his nose incapacitates him, you try to let him take the lead on affection for both your sakes. It's his very hesitation though, that prevents him from initially speaking up when you start nodding off at an alarming rate, nearly tipping over from your seated position on the floor.

·When he has to throw out a hand to keep you from falling back and hitting your head against the bar, he finally cracks. You snap to full consciousness, or as much as you can, to find yourself tired beyond all reason and the air around you stale and unnatural. It had been easy to ignore while focused on the adorable minibot, but now it's alarming, and combined with the earlier oddities you're forced to conclude something is wrong.

·He puts on his bravest face and doubles down on establishing communication, not that he's an expert on that front, but his determination and knowledge in other fields lets him get to work on a makeshift communicator that should be able to cut through any interference. You just try to stay awake and listen, as he talks non-stop while he works like nothing is amiss, but the nervous tremble in his hands gives away his internal panic.

·A brief and flimsy connection to an emergency channel doesn't make either of you feel better, but it does allow you to finally find out what's going on, as the panicked explanation from the other end lays out the chaos breaking out due to an enemy ambush that's not currently going well for either side. Much of the ship's infrastructure has been damaged, and while the invading forces are scattered, it's currently easier to list the systems that aren't malfunctioning. Swerve is too horrified by the mention of an atmospheric generator shutdown and forced expulsion to ask for instructions before the line goes dead.

·There's a full minute of unbreakable panic on his part, and only biting down on his fist prevents him from saying all the horrible thoughts racing through his head. He's a smart bot, he knows that downed atmospheric generators are bad for the ship, but absolutely fatal for you if not fixed fast enough. He's near a full on panic attack when you try to rise and comfort him, only to stumble and fall as the dizziness overwhelms you.

·Though you don't even break skin with your small tumble, he's immediately by your side and frantically asking if you're okay, gingerly lifting you off the floor as you reassure him with far more levity than the situation calls for. Realizing that oxygen must already be dangerously low, and that the shortage is likely responsible for your exhaustion and disorientation, he concludes he's on his own in regards to planning a way out of this. A lack of response through the communication line he rigged up confirms this.

·Still a mess but keeping it together for your sake, he sets you up behind the bar and finds some clean towels, ordinarily used to polish tables, and sets them up as a makeshift little bed for you to rest on. His experience with medicine is unfortunately not going to give him much aid in this situation, but he knows enough to realize you'll benefit from rest and calm instead of panic. He tries to explain this, but you can barely follow the rapid stream of words leaving his mouth as he lays you down, and his worry actually spurrs your clouded mind to try and comfort him.

·For once he pushes away your offered hand, despite loving your tender touch more than anything and having a terrifying inkling he may have limited time left to enjoy the comfort it brings him. Arming his security system, he prays he won't have to use it as he hunkers down and tries to keep you relaxed with more casual conversation, but the words feel meaningless as he looks into your dimming eyes.

·The two of you sit for what feels like hours, and his attempts at distracting you fade into more and more desperate pleadings for you to stay awake. Eventually he takes your hand between two of his own, his large palms gently holding yours between them as he blends begging with apologizing. You're only more confused by this, as the fog of exhaustion isn't enough for you to forget he's not at fault for anything.

·It's in this rambling that he confesses the true depth of his love for you, going on about what a wonderful person you've been to him and how every day since he's met you has been the best of his life... but he was so afraid of messing it up he always hid these feelings for fear of scaring you away. Now he knows that all he accomplished was wasting some of the precious time you two had together, and he promises not to make the mistake again if you get better and he has a second chance.

·In the haze of hypoxia you find the confession unbearably sweet, and smile up at the precious face you fell in love with at the first cheesy smirk. You were beginning to fear he'd never make his move...

·Your last moments of consciousness are lost to a solid banging against the door, one that's quickly overtaken by a not so friendly pounding and the denting of the solid metal by something big and heavy. Security systems primed, he grabs his blaster and prepares himself, suddenly far less afraid and far more angry. He won't let fear prevent him from keeping you safe.

·Aliens of unknown species storm the bar with weapons blazing, and the scene descends into chaos. His security system starts shredding the first of the attackers, but there's simply far too many of them to get them all, and your little hiding spot becomes their target in no time. Despite all your desire to stay awake and help, the oxygen content is just too low, and you slip into darkness while his optics turn one final time to you. The sight drives him to act.

·With everything he has, he opens fire and stands his ground, taking shots himself but hardly feeling the pain. Their numbers are reduced but simply too overwhelming, and he's forced to face them head on when they start closing in, enduring more and more egregious damage as he leaves the cover of the bar to brawl. He wishes he could say he saved the day, but his smaller form is beaten down and he's only able to watch as they close in on you... before Autobot reinforcements burst in to turn the tide.

·He's bleeding and nearing unconsciousness himself when the two of you are carried to the medical bay, and the last thing he sees is you clinging to life in another bot's arms... It should make him feel relieved, but he only drifts off in absolute misery over his failures. He couldn't keep you safe, he couldn't get you help, and he couldn't even overcome his fear to show you the love you deserved until you were at death's door. The feeling doesn't abate when he awakens in the medical bay to find you both alive and the threat defeated.

·Ignoring all medical warning, he drags his still aching body to your side the moment you're alone, tearing up at the sight of you so weak and your beautiful face obscured by an oxygen mask, and despite his relief to see you alive he can only cry. When you wake at the sound he's nothing but shoulder shaking sobs and apologies, and though your memory is blurred you're well aware that the blame he's putting on himself is entirely unwarranted. You use all of your strength to keep your mask on while embracing him from the berth.

·Accustomed to his low self esteem, you refuse to hear it this time, and remind him that as the bot who charged headfirst into enemy fire he's likely the only reason you're still alive. You fell in love with him because he's the kind of bot to always push on, no matter how afraid he may be, and if the two of you are indeed going to be more open from now on... you'd like to emphasize that you love him back. More than you've ever loved anyone. Your words encourage him to heft his aching frame onto the berth with you, where he tearfully returns your profession of love once again, before managing to maneuver the two of you side by side for the cuddling he always wanted. There's a lot you two will have to talk about, but for now it can wait, and you're so comfortable Ratchet can't bring himself to mandate Swerve return to his own berth when he returns.

Whirl

·As he's taken it upon himself to get you battle ready, the two of you are in the shooting range together as you often are, though the activities vary from actual practice to pure shenanigans. On occasion he'll try "trick shots" to show you what combat prowess really looks like, and apparently in his view it resembles standing on his head and trying to nail targets with his chest mounted guns. His level of accuracy would strike fear into the sparks of his enemies but honestly he finds your laughter to be a better reward.

·Being as wary of exterior threats as he is, and experienced at surviving them, he gets the sense of some impending trouble not too long before the alarm goes off. Instructing you to keep your tiny weapon, he keeps his own ready to go and pops you into his cockpit, both for the sake of safety and so you can "watch the show" if he runs in to anything. While he's calm and casual as ever, maybe even a little eager, you know there's a bit of caution holding him back. Otherwise he'd be sprinting down the halls and trying to figure out where the fun is before he misses any of it.

·When it becomes clear communication is being jammed, he opts to drop you off somewhere safe so he can sort things out, and the few bots you pass along the way aren't able to offer much help thanks to everyone being equally confused. In the end he decides his own room may be the safest place for you, as it's not too far and you know it well. Plus, you can always scamper off into the vents if things go sideways.

·You're halfway there before encountering your first enemy; an alien of unknown species who's not too tiny next to the sizable copter bot, and who wastes no time before trying to flee. Recognizing a scout when he sees one, Whirl pounces to take care of the threat, encouraging you to "watch and learn" while he gets a little showy in the headshot he follows up with a decapitation to be safe.

·You've seen him in action enough to expect these things, and while you're ordinarily his top morale booster when he fights, you find yourself a little too sluggish to provide your usual enthusiasm in your praise. Picking up on your lack of energy, he asks if you'd prefer more screaming for the next one, partially sarcastic despite you being fully aware he'll do it if you say yes. You brush off the fatigue and dizziness clouding your head as motion sickness from the ride.

·Ever cautious about your delicate organic nature, he decides to play it safe and see if he can get more information before continuing his blind trek through hazardous territory, though his plans likely won't change much from killing every enemy he sees. A somewhat functioning maintenance terminal at least gives him a chance to check up on the status of whatever is still working, so he pulls up the current readout. What he sees chills his spark.

·They haven't just been boarded by a large enemy ship, the Lost Light has actively been hacked, and the damage extends far beyond the communication systems being jammed. The atmospheric generators have been shut off and air is actively being purged from the ship, which is a slow process due to its size, but the concentration of carefully maintained elements is already dropping. That wouldn't be more than an inconvenience if you didn't need the oxygen being dumped to live.

·Barely able to skim the screen in the time it takes him to soak it all in, you're jostled and shocked when he pivots on his long legs and tears down the hallway in the opposite direction, leaving you in an even more confused fog than you'd been in previously. Though he's prone to unexpected decisions, this feels more like the result of panic.

·Answers to the questions you begin directing his way initially aren't forthcoming. All you get is uncharacteristic shushing or hushed murmurs not directed your way, his path starting and stopping seemingly at random to a destination you're far too out of it to guess. It isn't until you testily demand an explanation that you get one laden with frustration; he's trying to get you to the medical bay without any fighting!

·You're rendered speechless by the very idea. Whirl? Avoiding a fight? His unorganized and circular explanation about atmospheric generators wouldn't make sense even if you were coherent, but as it's getting harder and harder just to sit up, you don't have the energy to argue with him. His running almost makes it feel like you're hovering along, and despite the panic radiating through his frame, you find that the exhaustion weighing you down is quite hard to resist even as you strain drawing breath.

·Every minute he can feel you struggling, his naturally attuned senses picking up your faltering vitals as he would the weakening ticks of a fading clock. For once he's trying to be cautious despite every wire of his being screaming at once, clouding his processor as he tries to take an indirect path that won't involve a fight, painfully aware that you might not survive combat with a multitude of foes attacking him at once. Of course the delay is dangerous too, but what can he do? Keeping you alive is his only priority.

·As he's come to expect though, luck never favors him, and you're just stable enough to see the horde of enemies appear virtually out of nowhere as he closes in on the medical bay. Through the cockpit glass you have moments to process the threat before he growls out a promise; he's going to get you through if it kills him, but if you die before that he's gonna be pissed, so keep that little pump of yours beating, okay?

·Any remaining clarity in your head is gone in moments as everything descends into a bloodbath. Bullets fly through the hallway and blades start cutting in a maelstrom that's brutal even by his own standards, resulting in blood spattered glass obscuring your vision. All you have then is the lurching of his body as he strikes and the cacophony of battle, but you keep yourself breathing through it all, determined not to let him down.

·He's the most brutally effective he's ever been on such short notice, to the point he'd be grateful you can't see what he's reducing these aliens to, not that he's enjoying himself either. His chest is his only concern when it comes to defense, resulting in increasingly grievous wounds to every other part of his body, not that he cares too deeply. Every alien is just a collection of vital parts he needs to deconstruct, and he does so with everything he has available, even tearing his claws into vulnerable weak points when his sword is momentarily knocked away.

·By the time he's up to his knees in corpses he's losing all patience. He could have been at the medical bay by now, could have found a way to rig up some kind of atmosphere scrubber himself if necessary, but instead he's stuck tearing his way through these idiots. Do they have any idea what's at stake for him? What he'll do if he loses you now? As his strikes become cold and automatic, his thoughts drift back to the dark corners he'd only just started to leave behind, and he's left with a familiar feeling.

·He's angry. Not just in the logical sense, it's the raw and primal anger that has kept him alive but haunted for eons. He's angry at these cowards for killing you in a way that you can't really fight. Angry at the very air around you both, and how it keeps slipping away like the delicate tools his claws are too clumsy to hold, taking everything he adores about you with it. But worst of all he's angry at himself for falling in love, and painting a giant target on himself in the process, one he can't tell you how sorry he is for dragging you into.

·The burning will to survive blinds him to familiar color schemes until one is right in front of him, blocking his blade and screaming his name until an optic he didn't know was cracked is able to make out a team of Autobots. Ringing audials blur their words, not that he cares what they have to say. Ignoring them completely, he pries open his cockpit with what he realizes is his only functional arm, and pulls out your barely conscious form to wordlessly request assistance.

·Thankfully Ratchet is just behind the group and, for their sake, knows what to do and moves quickly. You can just make out a familiar optic above you as the final rush to the medical bay proves to be your limit, and you apologetically give a claw a squeeze as you drift off. Whirl only hears the medic say something about how they've been trying to restore communication for this exact purpose, and how they have oxygen ready, and they just need to hook you up...

·The moment he hands you over and medical assistance is offered to him, he refuses with a nearly violent outburst, threatening to make things much worse if anything is done before you're stabilized. Ratchet scolds him for the attitude but otherwise doesn't flinch as he lays your tiny body on a berth and stabilizes you with much needed oxygen. In an almost anticlimactic ending to the whole affair, Whirl is assured you'll survive, and in the haze of the realization it's over he can't bring himself to feel anything at first.

·By the time you come to he's allowed the worst of his injuries to be repaired. Sitting beside your berth in silence, he perks up when he hears you stir, leaning over you to keep the medical lights from hurting your eyes. A tender claw brushes your cheek as he dryly jokes about you being more trouble than a fleshy could be worth, but you can see his spark isn't in it. The entirety of it all rushing back, you hold the tip of his claw in awe at what he's done for you, but also to comfort the fear you know is hurting him. It's almost heartbreaking; how quickly he confesses that this has shaken him to his core. You ask if he's having any second thoughts, and the question seems to act like a jumpstart to his very being. He's not, he firmly assures you, he's only forgotten what it felt like to have something to lose again. It hurts; but every single moment with you is worth that risk, he learned that the moment he fell in love with you. You're worth feeling pain again.

[delimeful]

my virtues uncounted (4)

winner of august’s second monthly fic poll! hope you enjoy!

warnings: antagonist/villain remus, panic, injury, blood, cliffhanger

previous chapters

-

In the time it took for everyone else to get worked into a panic, Logan had come up with a few theories on why, exactly, their connection with Thomas would be so suddenly muted.

Of course, many of those theories were only useful if they could be proven, and seeing as they  had a limited amount of time and space to work with, he could set them aside to figure out the direct, exact cause another time.

For now, the priority was finding their way back home. Once they were able to reconnect with their part of the mindscape, their connection with Thomas would also hopefully repair itself.

“Think of our current status as dealing with some temporary interference,” he told the others. “Once we leave the subconscious, our metaphorical signals should reach Thomas again.”

“‘Should?’” Anxiety asked, looking dubious.

“And how are we to leave when this shadowy scourge is thwarting our every escape attempt?” Roman added, glaring balefully up at Anxiety.

“Hey, you technically haven’t made any escapes yet, so I technically haven’t thwarted anything yet.” Anxiety ignored Roman’s exasperated expression with ease, shrugging. “Schrodinger’s Thwarting.”

“Anxiety, kiddo,” Patton stepped a little closer, pulling them all back on track, “I don’t think we should stay down here for too much longer. It’s not good for us to be disconnected from our rooms like this.”

“And that’s not even mentioning the fact that we don’t know how Thomas is functioning without his core sides connected to him,” Logan added, hoping that the other Side was in a reasonable mood.

Anxiety kept his face neutral, but Logan could see the little crease between his eyebrows and the way he went slightly paler. “It’s still too dangerous to risk without a plan.”

“And with a plan?” Logan pressed.

Anxiety’s shoulders bunched up even further, and for a moment he was worried he’d gone too far, but then the other Side let out an irritated sigh.

“If it’s actually that concerning, and I can more than imagine how it could be, then. I guess. We could try. With a plan,” he emphasized as Patton perked up excitedly. “One that I agree to.”

“That’ll only take us a lifetime,” Roman grumbled, but even he seemed revitalized now that they were getting somewhere.

Logan found himself getting excited as well. “In that case, I need all the information you have on routes to neutral territory and the weather cycles here.”

Anxiety materialized the data into files on a touchscreen phone, which would work quite efficiently as a display considering their size. “Good luck figuring anything out. This end of the mindscape is way more… chaotic. Stuff’s always changing.”

“I don’t mind a challenge,” Logan reassured him, and then set to work making spreadsheets and comparing trends. It was almost soothing.

In the background, he could hear Patton asking about who they were most likely to encounter if they attempted to beeline for the neutral zone, and Roman bartering for possession of his sword back. (The trade seemed to be settling on Anxiety handing over the sword in exchange for no stabbing and no nicknames for a week. Roman was perhaps more reluctant to stop generating witty quips than necessary.)

As Logan suspected, when Anxiety didn’t feel implicitly threatened by them, he was much more open. Though, that might have also been the exposure to Patton’s determined friendliness, which Anxiety seemed to eye with the wariness of a stray cat. He’d have to bring this up the next time they had a debate about the effectiveness of so many of Thomas’s Sides being hidden away.

Now wasn't the time for that, however. Now was the time for action, as Roman liked to proclaim.

“I’ve found the best path for us to take,” he announced, drawing all eyes to him.

Probably no time for an illustrative powerpoint to demonstrate how he’d come to this conclusion. Perhaps later. A summary of the plan would do fine.

Roman and Patton glanced up at the large side frequently, but Anxiety listened with a critical attentiveness that Logan found himself appreciating. At the end, his brow was furrowed, but he didn’t seem fully decided one way or the other.

“This plan will only work in our current time frame,” Logan cautioned. “As you said, the landscape of this place is always shifting, so we need to take advantage of the patterns that we can. I expect getting lost would not end well.”

Anxiety nodded, and then seemed to come to a decision.

“If you’re certain that it’s the best time… Fine, I’ll believe you.” Anxiety grumped, his body language already displaying several signs that he was growing nervous at the idea.

Logan blinked once, genuinely surprised that he had convinced the other Side, before regaining his composure. No time to be touched by Anxiety’s apparent faith in him. “All the data I reviewed points to this being the best opportunity.”

“One condition,” Anxiety said, holding up a finger. “If it seems like the plan has failed and things get dangerous, our backup plan is giving me access so I can rise up.”

Roman raised a sharp eyebrow, his sword once again sheathed at his side. “I seem to distinctly recall you freaking out about that idea?”

Anxiety made a face at him. “Yeah, and I’ll continue to not like it, but if it keeps you losers from getting discorporated, I’ll deal. Do you guys agree or not?”

Logan traded looks with the other two, and then nodded. “It’s a reasonable backup plan.”

“Sure,” Anxiety snorted, and then hesitated for a moment before reaching out and placing his uninjured hand palm up on the table next to them.

Patton plopped himself down immediately, but Roman wasn’t as eager.

“I am not going back in your pocket,” Roman told him, unimpressed. “Lint on my outfit is a no-no, let alone giant lint.”

“Your outfit is already ruined,” Anxiety snapped back, rolling his eyes. The blood on the white outfit somewhat resembled a candy cane.

Logan raised a hand to interject before it could become an argument. “If I may suggest, your hood seems like it would both give us more space and allow for a vantage point to watch your back.”

“I can watch my own back,” Anxiety growled, and then sighed. “Just don’t fall out.”

He was exceedingly careful as he reached behind him to the hood of his jacket, and the three of them had no problem getting in, though they did end up knocking a few limbs against each other in the process.

As Logan expected, it was much easier to grip the folds of the hoodie fabric and looking over the edge of it gave them a vertigo-inducing view.

“Okay,” Anxiety said, sounding as though he was speaking more to himself than them. “Let’s do this. It’s probably going to crash and burn horribly, but whatever.”

“Remind me to speak with you about cognitive distortions later,” Logan mused.

From where he was peeking over Virgil’s shoulder, Patton cheered. “Woohoo, you can do it!”

“With our talents to help, we can’t fail,” Roman added, making some sort of dramatic flourish that Anxiety couldn't even see. “Onwards!”

“What am I, a horse?” Anxiety shot back, and then firmed his shoulders slightly and stepped to his door. “Remember, low in the hoodie so you aren’t seen.”

After receiving a chorus of agreements, he took an audible breath and stepped through the door.

The hoodie bounced slightly against his back with every step, but nothing too jarring. Logan resisted the completely illogical urge to hold his breath as they descended the creaking stairs.

After a long moment, Anxiety’s shoulders lowered slightly. “Nobody’s down here.”

He picked his way carefully through the living area, until they were back where they started, at that huge, weathered front door. It seemed much less insurmountable from Anxiety’s eye level. The other Side grabbed the knob and pushed it open, stepping over the threshold.

They all let out a breath of relief.

From there, Logan’s attention was consumed with providing directions in a low mutter, carefully navigating their way through the shifting, fog-covered landscape. Patton occasionally pointed out a distant landmark he maybe recognized, mostly unhelpfully.

Still, all factors considered, they made it a fair distance before things went wrong.

Anxiety had just taken the first step over a wooden bridge when the hair-raising cackle split the air behind them. At Logan’s side, Roman latched onto his wrist with an iron grip.

Anxiety held still for a moment longer before turning around, his hands tucked into his pockets in a faux gesture of casualness. “Remus. I thought silently stalking people in the dead of night was too subtle for you?”

There was an unpleasant crack of bone that made Logan glad he couldn’t see Remus. “Wouldn’t want to scare the little emo and his little uninvited stowaways off, would I?”

The three of them exchanged panicked looks. He knew?

Anxiety took a step back, hissing in frustration. “Are you the reason they’re like this? Or Dee?”

Another cackle. “The enchantment was all me! Double D would ruin my fun if he knew. But you’re no spoilsport! I can already feel all the exciting new additions to this game you’re thinking up in that squishy grey matter of yours. We can have a little fun together! Whaddya say?”

Anxiety took another step back, his back twitching with the urge to turn and flee. “Remus. C’mon. Think about Thomas.”

The atmosphere suddenly darkened, sending a chill down Logan’s spine.

“Maybe he’s the one who should be thinking about us,” Remus said, the grin in his voice suddenly much more menacing. “I know you’re tired of being ignored, Anxiety. You’re just as sick of our snakey friend’s interference as I am. Without them, there will be space for us!”

“Thomas needs them,” Anxiety urged, his rough voice a sharp contrast to Remus’s singsong encouragement.

“Puh-lease, we’re not taking them away forever! The Core Bores are like cockroaches; you just can’t get rid of ‘em, even when you crush their little heads.” A thoughtful pause. “They’re just about cockroach-sized now, too!”

Roman’s grip grew painfully tight.

Anxiety shook his head, jostling them slightly, and then began to slowly back across the bridge. The tension in him seemed to scream that he wanted to turn tail and flee, give into his flight instinct. But he couldn’t turn without putting them directly in Remus’s line of sight.

“Don’t be so antsy! I know you want to be noticed as bad as I do,” Remus advanced with slow, predatory steps.

Anxiety was too far from the other end of the bridge. He’d be caught.

Logan made pointed eye contact with the others, and held his free hand out, palm down.

“What I want doesn’t matter here. It’s too risky! It’s. Not. Happening.” They were stepping faster now, the noise overlapping.

Patton nodded once, placing his own hand on top. They both looked to Roman.

“Aw, that’s what I never got about you, emo. You’re always too scared to jump in and grab the bull by the horns! A little goring can be its own kind of fun, y’know.”

Roman’s expression finally turned certain, and he slammed his own hand down, completing the stack.

All of them felt it when the balance shifted, and there was a heartbeat of stillness before everything erupted.

Anxiety turned on his heel and bolted, seconds before a manic, ear-splitting scream split the air from behind them.

“YOU’RE LEAVING US!”

“Rise up!” Roman screeched, clinging to the hood’s fabric for dear life. “Rise up!”

“I don’t know how!” Anxiety yelled back, ducking and weaving through the fog-filled forest that had formed around them. “I’m trying to— it’s not the same as just appearing!”

“You have to stay in one spot and focus,” Patton said, trying hard to keep his voice calm. “You can do this!”

Anxiety came to a standstill, and for a few breathless seconds, they waited.

“It’s… it’s not working!”

“Try and focus on where you want to appear. Let yourself rise, don’t try to control it—“ Logan caught a flicker of movement behind them. “Watch out!”

Anxiety twisted out of the way, a double headed axe thunking into the trunk of a nearby tree. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly, and Logan finally felt the familiar sensation of their part of the mindscape dropping into place around them.

He caught one last glimpse of Remus, body twisted into a throwing gesture and gaze almost shocked, before the scene changed to their living room.

Anxiety staggered, face pale, and the lot of them ended up sprawled over the length of the staircase, ungraceful but undoubtedly home and the right size once more.

A moment spent catching their breath, and then.

“We made it!” Patton yelled, voice cracking in relief as he threw his arms out, laid out on his back.

From the carpeted landing he was still facedown on, Roman grunted an exhausted affirmation.

“It was a close call,” Logan said, pushing himself up and dusting his tie off. “We’ll need to take precautions for the future.”

“Good thing we have Anxiety!” Patton said brightly. “He’s an expert at precautionary measures!”

“As long as he doesn’t precaution Thomas into never going outside again,” Roman muttered, with no real aggression to his tone. He seemed just as glad that Anxiety had gotten them all out of there, if not more.

Anxiety didn’t rise to the bait. Logan turned to thank the other Side properly, and was met with the sight of him curled in over himself, a hunched over ball of hoodie. “... Anxiety?”

With a hoarse cry of pain, the Side yanked something from his side. A comically oversized throwing knife, drenched in a slick coating—

“Oh,” Anxiety said in a small voice, struggling to stem the bloodflow from the stab wound in his torso. “Shit.”

Within seconds, a dark stain began to spread, and Logan immediately lurched forwards, trying to seal the wound, erase it, even just put enough pressure on it to clot the bleeding—

Anxiety inhaled sharply. Nothing about the nature of the wound changed. It wasn’t healing. Logan’s hands were covered in warm-wet-red and nothing was healing.

Past the ringing in his ears, he could hear the others yelling behind him, trying to accelerate Anxiety’s integration into the conscious mind.

All he could focus on was Anxiety’s face, tight with pain and resignation.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, the hitch in his voice betraying him. “We can’t die. It’s fine. Can you— Can you feel Thomas?”

Logan nodded stitedly. The connection was faint, but growing stronger.

Anxiety nodded once, sharply. “Good. That’s— That’s all that matters.”

Then, like the question had been all that was keeping him awake, he went limp like a puppet with strings cut.

[forcefully-awoken]

LOVE LANGUAGES

Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance, but he does enjoy a challenge

Rating: Explicit

Warnings for: Attempted sexual assault, my shit romantic writing, Kylo Ren doesn’t understand romance and neither do I.

Note: This was written for the Citrus Dome Lovers Day Literature collab.

Read on ao3 here. Header by the lovely Elmi.

Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance.

There has never been a need for it in his life, growing up the only couple he had truly seen in action were his own parents. The volatile relationship they had together, one moment embarrassingly in love and physical, the next a screaming match with random objects flying through the air. He couldn’t imagine attaching himself to a person like that, letting their emotions influence his own. No, there was no need for something as trivial as romance in Kylo Ren’s life.

That is, until you come along.

You trail behind Hux, of all people, taking diligent notes of whatever the General says on your data pad. You’re new to Starkiller, he can tell from the wide eye look you give everything as you pass by it, the way your head jerks towards him and then away when you realize he’s staring right at you. He doesn’t even know why he’s staring at you. You were, you are, irrelevant to him. He hardly gives you a second thought when you leave the room.

Until you collide face first into his chest. It’s the middle of the night, there’s no reason for you to be wandering the halls (there’s no real reason he is either, aside from a bout of insomnia, but he’s Kylo Ren and you are, well, you). You stammer out some pathetic excuse about the base being so big you get easily turned around. You’re nearly in tears by the time he takes as much pity as he can on you, barking out a short “Enough.”

You stop speaking immediately, even though he made no use of the Force. With your mouth closed he takes a moment to appreciate you. He lets his eyes drift over your form under his mask, and delights in the way you squirm under his gaze. You look so small like this, so soft in all the right places. You look so deliciously breakable.

“Come to my quarters,” he instructs you, wanting to see just how much you can endure under him. He turns, expecting you to follow but to his incredulous surprise he hears your voice calling after him.

“No, I won’t be going with you,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a certainty in it. Your tone leaves no room for debate, and before he can even get back to you, you’re gone. Moving around him and through the hallways, leaving him standing in your wake. It’s the first time someone has denied him in… far too long. He’s used to taking now, to everything to be one challenge after the next, none of them too strenuous for him to overcome.

But here you are now, a new little thing. Telling him no, walking away from him without so much as a second glance. It shouldn’t get under his skin in this way, but when he finds himself alone in his room again he’s consumed with thoughts of you. It wasn’t just your rejection, he realizes, but your outright dismissal of him all together. He was leader of the Knights of Ren, the Supreme Leader’s right hand, but you had acted as if he were some random trooper. It wouldn’t do, he decided, it wouldn’t do at all. He stumbles across an issue he’s never encountered before- how to talk to someone like you.

He’s had his fair share of beings across the galaxy, but they were paid for, or had willingly given themselves to him for a small taste of power. A means to a brief end, he couldn’t remember half the names or faces. There had been nobody exceptional. Until you. He doesn’t think Hux will take kindly to it if he offers you money, and while he doesn’t care what Hux thinks of him, the thought of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, the victory would ring hollow.

It makes him think of the vague talks his father gave him as a child, when the old man would indulge just a little too hard. Han Solo was, by his own account, a scoundrel, leaving broken hearts in his wake without a care. The trend had kept up into Kylo’s own childhood, only the heart of a son is a lot harder to mend. It’s never been what Kylo Ren wanted out of life, and isn’t what he wants out of you. He banishes the memories from his mind, forces himself to focus on what’s right in front of him.

“Why did you say no?” It’s the first time he’s seen you alone in almost two weeks, always in Hux’s shadow. You’re taking notes on the bridge now, while Hux is off doing Maker knows what, probably something Kylo will have to correct later on. The only thing that matters to him now is standing next to you. He’s never been one for posturing before, but now he stands a bit straighter, puffs his chest out a little more to see if he can pull a reaction from you.

You barely spare him a second glance.

“I’ve heard tales about you,” You begin, voice so casual that someone might think the two of you are discussing the weather, “I’m not looking to be the next conquest of the great Kylo Ren. I’m here to work not to… dally with you.” It made sense, laid out in front of him like that, but it didn’t lessen the sting of rejection. He says nothing else but stalks off the bridge, grinding his teeth together.

It’s Phasma, of all people, who has the best advice for him. He doesn’t even approach her about it, the tall commander simply seems to know what’s on his mind. She finds him after a meeting, blocks the doorway so he can’t leave the room.

“You have to woo her,” Her voice is painfully flat, almost strained with how casually she’s forcing the words to be. He considers for a moment simply running her and then himself through with his lightsaber, but thinks better of it. The First Order would fall into ruin if Hux was the only one left. “Find out her love language, and approach it as you would a battle- with a clear strategy.” She saves him any further embarrassment by blessedly leaving him alone with his thoughts now.

He has to research what the fucking things are, something that galls him. He can’t remember the last time he had to do his own research on things, having briefings prepared for him for so long now. He finds out there’s five of these so called love languages (they sound like something his parents would have fought about). It’s easy, after that, to come up with a plan.

He starts with the easiest and most obvious- quality time. It’s easy enough to request your transfer. Hux sputters and complains but ultimately it’s useless. Now you shadow him to war councils, diligently typing away at your data pad with pursed lips. He watches you to see if any of the meeting makes you blanch, after all a meeting with the Knights of Ren is drastically different than what you might be used to.

You say nothing to him the whole time.

“Send your notes to me,” It’s a needless reminder- you’ve already sent them to him but he feels the need to condescend, just a bit. Your lips flatten into a thin line and you give him a curt nod. His own lips mimic yours behind his mask before he bites out, “Is there a problem?”

“Don’t interfere with my career,” Your words are quick and quiet, eyes staring up at him with a burning anger. He can feel it radiating off of you in waves through the Force, almost as fierce as his own.

“Duly noted,” is his only response, before you turn on your heel and stalk off without being dismissed. He should reprimand you for it, but all Kylo Ren can look at is the soft sway of your thighs as you go.

The next language he decides to test out seems easy to him as well, until he has to put it into practice. Gift giving is something that he thought would be almost laughably menial. It isn’t until he starts to think about it more that he realizes he comes up short in this arena.

While the conditions on Starkiller base aren’t luxurious by any means, the workers and troops want for nothing on it. There is hardly even a black market for contraband goods, with how tightly regulated the ship was. He selected the only thing that even made slight sense to him, given how cold it was on the base.

“Here,” He acosts you after a meeting one day, thrusting the bundled up fabric in your general direction. You take it with hesitant hands, unfolding it to hold it away from yourself as you eye it up and down. Your head tilts to the side and you bite your lower lip in concentration, something he’s seen you do more than once during particularly intense meetings.

“This is a sweater,” What it is is the only thing he thinks would be a suitable gift for the frigid planet base. It’s black, but the fabric is soft and warm. He thinks you’d look good in it as well, but he would rather talk to Hux than admit it.

“The base is cold,” He tried to keep any irritation out of his voice, the both of you know this fact already, “This will keep you warm.” He doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, already burning with humiliation. His strides carry him so far away so quickly he almost misses your quiet reply-

“Or you could.” When he turns back to you, you’ve already turned away from him as well, falling in with a group headed towards the residential area.

But the next time he sees you on a day off, you’re wearing the sweater.

The next love language he attempts to conquer gives him pause. Words of affirmation seems to be the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of. Of course anybody would like to be complimented, it’s in the nature of being. Mindless and meaningless compliments seem dull and almost insulting.

He could compliment you on your work, of course, though he suspects you’ve heard all there is to hear on that subject. You’re a quick and succinct note taker, he’s seen it first hand, but that doesn’t scream romance to him. On the other hand, being complimented on a skill you’ve clearly worked hard at is better than any alternatives.

This time he finds you before a meeting, situating yourself in the corner of the room. He’s noticed that about you- that you press yourself into the back of the room, so you can observe everything all at once. You stand up straighter when he walks in, an action he’s read is a positive sign. Because of how you position yourself you’re back into the corner of the room with him in front of you, blocking any way out.

“Your notes are good,” Fuck, it sounds even worse saying it out loud. Your face remains impassive but he continues on anyways, “They’re direct and to the point, but you never miss anything. You do a passable job.”

“Thank you,” Your reply sounds sincere, but your voice is so small it barely reaches his ears. There’s a hint of a smile quirking at your lips when you continue speaking, “My parents were both officers for the First Order. They taught me well.”

More people are trickling in so he wrenches himself away from you, ignoring the pointed stare from Hux as they both seat themselves. The meeting passes slowly, something about trade routes and treaties. Kylo is happy to have his helmet on now, his eyes never leaving your face as you type away.

“Do be so kind as to not break my assistant,” Hux says to him after, as they walk to their audience with Supreme Leader Snoke. It takes Kylo by surprise, the quiet steel in Hux’s voice. Neither of them say anything else, but Kylo nods his head in acknowledgement.

Hux’s words stick in his chest for the rest of the day. He had wanted to break you at first, wanted to crawl inside your mind and see what made you tick but this dance the two of you were doing was far better than any easy conquest. It was… interesting to see whatever barrier you had put up between the two of you come down slowly.

He’s quiet in his thoughts when he returns to his quarters, until a scream tears him back to reality. He hasn’t heard your voice make a noise like that before but he knows with surety that it’s you calling for help. Kylo makes quick work of finding you, cornered by two drunken troopers.

One of them has the sweater he gave you halfway off your body while the other is struggling to get your pants off. Rage rips through him like a storm, and with one violent sweep of his arm the two of them are flying off of you, hitting the wall with enough force they’re either dead or about to be. He turns on them with a snarl, ready to wipe them from the base and from memory when he hears you sniffle.

Turning back to you he can see now how badly you’re shaking, trying to wrap the sweater back around you. There’s tears streaming down your face, dripping down onto the floor beneath you.

“I-I’m sorry you had to see that,” You manage to get out, and his rage returns. For all his wrongs he knows you don’t need to apologize to him. When he tells you this your head snaps up so fast he thinks you might hurt yourself. It’s only when your eyes widen and your mouth drops open a little he realizes- he left his helmet in his quarters.

This time it’s Kylo who stands a little bit straighter, posturing under your gaze. He knows he’s an attractive man, and now you get to know that as well. He’s silent, letting you drink him in until-

“Can you take me home?” His heart stutters out a tango in his chest as he nods. You grab onto his arms, your hands so hot he can feel them through the layers he’s still wearing. Perhaps you meant for him to lead you back to your own quarters but you say nothing as he leads you to his own. You don’t speak when he closes the door behind you.

And you don’t speak when you grab the front of his shirt to tug him down, pressing your lips to his.

Whatever doubts you had before have been wiped away, as your mouth opens under his to invite his tongue in. You whimper when his large hands dig into your thighs, manhandling you up until your legs wrap around his waist. He walks you both to the bed, his mouth only leaving yours to dip down and suck a mark onto your skin.

He lowers the two of you down onto the bed, calling on all of his training not to simply tear your clothes off and rut into you like an animal. He’s worked for this, for you, for this reward.

But then you grind your clothed cunt up against him and he decides there will be time to savor you later.

He pulls back just enough for him to shed his clothes and watch you scramble out of yours too. Your eyes trail up his body ravenously, and his trail down yours in delight. You look better than he ever could have imagined.

You’re practically dripping when his fingers find your clit. He rubs a few quick circles around it, trying to get you just wet enough for him to slide into you. Your back arches off of his bed, offering your chest up to him. When he takes your nipple into his mouth you melt into his touch.

“Hurry up!” You sound as impatient as he feels, grabbing onto his shoulders to pull him closer into you. “Waited too long already!”

“Yeah?” He lines his cock up with your entrance, presses himself completely inside with one thrust. You don’t- can’t- answer him now, not if the way your cunt fluttering around him is any indication. He grips your chin, making you look at him and says, “Tell me you want me.”

“Fuck!” You moan out, shaking underneath him, “Wanted you since the first time I saw you!” His hips snap into yours, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Your nails bite into his shoulders, leaving little crescents of red behind. His hands twist at his sheets around your head, so tightly they rip a little but he doesn’t slow down.

He continues like this, driving you into orgasms until you’re sobbing underneath him. Even then he doesn’t slow down, not until your eyes are drooping, threatening to pass out on him completely. He pulls out quickly, cumming over your stomach and chest. Kylo collapses on the bed next to you, staring at the tremors that wrack through your body.

“Well, that was certainly worth the wait,” your voice is rough from screaming underneath him, but your comment brings a smile to his face. He gets to study you now, eyes tracing over the contours of your face, committing how you look now to his memory. You shift forward, delicately walking over to his bathroom to use the shower to clean yourself off. He knows he should too, but instead he simply lays on his bed and waits.

Once you’re clean and dry you dress yourself again, barely sparing him a second glance. Still he remains silently lounging on the bed. Finally you look at him, hands twisting nervously in front of you.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting?” You don’t even let him reply before you’re out his door, leaving him alone with another sting of rejection. Kylo slumps back onto his bed, but now his mind is reeling. Pulling out his own data pad he types a few inquiries into it before falling asleep.

————————————————————————

You try not to think about it all the next day.

You had hardly been able to sleep that night, body sore from the sex. It had been so long since you were with anybody, and Kylo Ren had been anything but gentle. You avoid looking at him during meetings, being the last one in and the first one gone from them so he can’t speak to you.

You manage to avoid him all day, making your way back to your room to hide away there until the urge to return to him passed. You stop in the doorway, taking in the flower on your bed.

A singular red rose waits for you, a note attached to it. You don’t have to guess who it’s from, though the note only says ‘For You’. You think for a moment about throwing it away, about putting in for a transfer, about getting the fuck off Starkiller before you can make any more poor decisions.

But then you think about the past few weeks, not just the previous night.

You think about the time, the effort Kylo Ren had shown for you. How he had saved you. How he hadn’t made a move until you did. His gestures had been a bit awkward but the meaning behind them seemed genuine. You take the rose and place it onto your desk, right there it will be the last thing you see at night, and the first thing you see in the morning.

Kylo Ren doesn’t do romance.

But for you he might give it a try.

[prrplwtch]

#170 and #190 combined from the fic prompt for mc and solomon

Hi nonnie :) 

Here you go, but I have to say I got a little bit carried away 💜this mc has been largely inspired by mc from my “have you never seen a bra before” series of fics - the poor girl is just tryna get some.

“Go ahead. Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.” “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.” Solomon x f!MC

Solomon was walking through the gardens of the Academy, hoping to spend some time in his favorite secluded place, just by the lake. The school day has ended, and the grounds were now clear of students, but he was in no hurry to depart. There were some things he needed to think over, and it was best to do so in complete solitude.

To his surprise, someone was already there. Initially, he considered turning around and walking away, but as Solomon came closer, he realized that it was MC. She was sitting on the boulder by the lake, holding a large bottle of liquor in one hand. He paused for a moment, considering his options, and then decided to approach her.

He had grown quite fond of MC over the course of the past couple month and sometimes even wished that the two of them were better…acquainted, but it was a rare occasion to see MC without at least one demon brother hanging around, and Solomon did not exactly come to the Devildom in search of romantic adventures.

And yet, there was something about her that drew him to her – perhaps, it was the knowledge of her potential after he let her borrow his magic power at Diavolo’s castle, or perhaps it was something else.

“Rough week?” Solomon asked, as he approached MC.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” MC replied, as she turned to look at him. A moment later she held up the bottle of liquor, “I don’t even like this stuff, but it’s the only thing I could find in the House of Lamentation that could get a human drunk.”

“What could possibly be causing such despair?” Solomon wondered, as he sat down next to MC on the giant boulder.

“Do you ever get the feeling that you are surrounded by densest of fools?” MC gave him a grim smile.

Of course he did, but he’d never say that.

“I suppose everyone can act somewhat foolish on occasion,” he offered instead, wondering who made MC this upset.

“Trust me, I wish it was “on occasion”,” she replied.

Solomon glanced down to hide his half-smile and suddenly noticed that MC’s skirt had slightly ridden up baring more of her leg than usual. It took him a moment to look away.

“Have a drink with me,” MC said, turning to him, “I feel rather sad drinking all by myself.”

Solomon hesitated – he had some plans for later in the evening, and getting wasted in the afternoon would certainly interfere with them.

“Or, if you don’t want to simply drink, I’m challenging you to a drinking contest,” MC continued, clearly sensing his hesitation.

Solomon was not the one to back down from a challenge, and yet he still felt unsure.

“I do not believe that would be quite fair to you,” Solomon pointed out – he was taller than MC and definitely weighed more.

“Go ahead. Underestimate me. That would be fun,” MC gave him a half-smirk, “Or are you afraid of losing?”

Well, that’s it then.

“Very well,” Solomon said, finally, “You’re on.”

“Great,” MC smiled, “If I win you’ll have to teach me a spell that…Is there a spell that makes someone stop acting like an idiot?”

The question caused Solomon to laugh.

“I’m afraid even magic cannot help with that,” he replied, looking at MC, whose face showed clear frustration.

“Fine,” MC sighed, “Then teach me a love spell.”

Solomon wondered why someone like her would have need of such a spell, but nodded.

“As you wish – and if I win you’ll owe me a favor,” he replied.

“Fine by me,” MC agreed.

Solomon conjured up two shot glasses and MC poured out the first round. The drink was bitter, but Solomon did not mind. MC clearly did not enjoy the taste, as he could see her almost wince. Another round of shots followed soon and then another. He saw a blush appear on her cheeks and his own face was feeling somewhat warm.

“Did you ever imagine that one day you would be an exchange student in the Devildom,” MC asked and Solomon almost choked on his drink. She could not know, of course not – and he’d never tell her.

“How could I?” he replied once he regained some of his composure, “Although I cannot say that I was ever not fascinated with this realm – I’ve spent quite a bit of time reading about it.”

“And summoning demons,” MC added.

Solomon hurried to pour out another round of drinks in hopes of changing the conversation. It was quite easy to conceal the truth all this time, and he was not about to let anything slip.

“I wonder,” MC said suddenly, “Do you think demons are just dense or do they simply think differently from us?”

Solomon smiled, as he suppressed sigh of relief at MC changing the topic.

“That is the most complicated question,” Solomon responded, as the two of them drank another round of shots. The bottle was half-way empty. If he was honest with himself, Solomon thought that she would already give up by this point, but MC still seemed to be doing strong.

Her blush was much brighter now, and he could feel the heat spread through his body.

“While they don’t think exactly like people, mainly due to differences in the worldview, there are some significant similarities,” he continued, looking at MC who nodded along.

They drank more and Solomon caught himself unintentionally staring at MC. He’d always thought her quite pretty, but now, sitting next to her alone for the first time and talking, he felt very drawn to her.

Solomon shook his head and looked down, trying to calm his thoughts. Instead, he caught another glimpse of her leg, which brought more heat to his cheeks.

When they finished more than three quarters of the bottle and MC still hadn’t given up, Solomon turned to her.

“I’m curious,” he said, “Why would you need me to teach you a love spell.”

“Isn’t it self-evident?” MC asked as she downed another glass.

“I wouldn’t think someone like you would need it,” Solomon said, as MC leaned slightly closer to him, allowing him to feel the warmth of her skin.

“Well, I’d never think that someone like you would need it,” his drunk tongue suddenly speaks before he could think, “You seem like someone who would not have any troubles in her love life.”

“Oh?” MC leaned even closer. Solomon found himself staring at her lips. He knew he needed to end this conversation.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “Falling for a woman like you is the easiest thing anyone could do.”

He was not sure if it was him or MC that closed the distance between them, but next thing he knew was here lips were on his, hot and demanding, as he fingers snaked their way through his hair. His head spun – her touch was intoxicating. He reached out to pull her closer and, suddenly, she was straddling his lap.

His hands traveled around her body, feeling the tenderness and warmth of her skin. He knew that they could be seen if anyone returned to the school grounds, but he did not care. In that moment all he wanted was her.

When she broke off their kiss, and began undoing the buttons of her uniform, Solomon suddenly felt his head spin and for a moment it was dark in his eyes. He must have grown pale because MC stopped and looked him, concerned.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I think I may be more drunk than I thought,” Solomon admitted, as he felt his head spin again.

For a moment, MC looked incredulous. Then she sighed and got off his lap. Solomon watched her as she picked up the bottle with the remained of the liquor and downed it in one gulp.

“I win,” she declared, holding up the empty bottle, “So you’ll have to teach me the love spell whenever you sober up.”

“A bet is a bet,” Solomon replied.

“Do you need help getting to the Purgatory Hall?” MC asked him.

“No, I will be alright,” Solomon replied. One good thing about being a sorcerer was the ability to process alcohol much quicker than normal humans did – it would likely take him less than an hour to be sober again, but right now he was not feeling too great.

“As you wish,” MC replied.

As Solomon watched her walk away, he wondered if, perhaps, it was a mistake to not pursue her. It may have been – but it’s far too late now.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: An Abundance of Gold (1/2)

Summary: Although Mr Gold keeps himself to himself, Belle French recognises him for what he is – a White Witch like herself. Slowly, she starts to bring him back to love the craft that he was raised in.

Part one written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling September non-smut prompt: Tea leaves, moonlight, softness.

Rated: G

An Abundance of Gold: Part One

Although Belle has never advertised herself as anything other than a librarian, everyone in Storybrooke knows that she has a gift. Somewhere way back in her ancestry, one of her forefathers – well, foremothers in this case – was hanged for witchcraft, and the talent has lain dormant in the blood until Belle’s mother, and now Belle.

So, although she has never advertised her gift, everyone knows that if you want a remedy for an affliction that the pharmacy can’t help with, or advice on a phenomenon that science can’t quite explain, then you go to Belle. The good witch under the clocktower always extracts a fair deal for her services, and every time someone comes to her, she always warns them that all magic comes with a price, and that it must be paid, whether you like it or not.

The one thing that Belle will never do is read the future. The reason for this is simple, although the townsfolk like to think that there’s something more mysterious and mystical in her refusal. She simply doesn’t know how. Lines on a palm are just lines on a palm to her. The specks of tea leaves left behind when the cup is drained are just that. She sees no deeper meaning in any of it.

She knows someone who does, though.

No one would ever expect Mr Gold, of all people, to have the gift. Looking at him, he’s as far removed from Belle’s roots as it’s possible to be. But Belle knows. Like always calls to like, subconsciously or otherwise, and she knew from the moment that she met him that Gold had the gift too. And she knew that he knew that she knew.

He’s so standoffish and guarded that no one in the town would think to ask him for help with their problems, metaphysical or otherwise, and Belle thinks that it’s his affinity with magic that makes him so. There are so many people who don’t understand their ways and their beliefs. It’s self-preservation more than anything else.

It does not take Belle long to contrive a reason to visit Gold in his shop and have a one-on-one conversation with him about what they both know. As soon as she steps inside the treasure trove of trinkets, the hallmarks of his upbringing in the magical tradition are clear to see, and when he invites her into the back room for tea, she can see that he has all the same herbs and ingredients and books that she has.

His aunts were powerful witches, he explains, and although he is one too, the prejudice he and his family experienced whilst he was growing up makes him wary of revealing his gift. Throughout their conversation, Belle can see him begin to relax. It must be nice to be able to talk freely about something that is obviously a large and important part of his life that’s been tamped down so tightly for so long.

Belle finishes her tea and looks down at the murky dregs.

“Do you read?” he asks.

“No. I’ve never had the knack for it. My mother could, but that part of the gift never passed to me. Do you?”

“A little. May I?”

Belle gives him her cup readily, and she leans in with interest when he starts to explain to her what he sees in the depths.

“This is the moon,” he says. “There’s a full moon due soon. Are you planning on doing anything?”

“I usually gather heather at midnight on a full moon.”

“Probably that then. Aunt Elvira always used to say that heather was best gathered under a full moon. I never held much store by it myself.”

Belle laughs. “I don’t know that it makes any difference, but it’s what I’ve always done.” She pauses, wondering if it’s too soon the make the offer, then deciding to live dangerously. The tea leaves told her that the full moon would be important, after all. “Would you like to come with me? Maybe you can see for yourself.”

Gold is evidently in two minds about it, but then he nods.

“Yes. I think I’d like that. Maybe it’s time to revive some of the old traditions now that I know I’m not alone in them.”

“Perfect.” Belle looks back into the teacup and points out another blob. “What about that one?”

“It looks like a cornucopia,” Gold says. “An abundance of something is coming your way.”

Belle has known magic for long enough to know that plenty rarely, if ever, refers to material wealth, but to something much more intangible and much more valuable. She wonders what it could be, and her eyes end up transfixed by Gold, by his long fingers as he handles the teacup delicately, his greying hair falling into his face.

Now, that would certainly be magic at her ironic finest, and Belle finds that she really doesn’t mind the notion at all.

X

When the night of the full moon comes, Belle slips out of her apartment at a little before midnight, wrapped up warmly against the autumn chill, and a figure from the pawn shop meets her as she walks briskly towards the outskirts of the town and the heather fields. They don’t talk much, just exchanging the usual pleasantries, but there’s something different in Gold’s manner tonight, a softness and enthusiasm that Belle has not seen there before. It’s obvious that magic has always had an important place in his life and now he’s giving it the attention that it deserves.

Once they reach the heather fields, they each go their separate ways for a little while, working through the heather to find the stems that they feel best suit the uses they will be put to in their spells and potions. Still, there’s always an acute sense that the other one is there. For the first time in a long time, neither of them are alone, and there is nothing but understanding and acceptance between them.

The moonlight is strong and bright tonight, and as Belle straightens up and stretches the cricks out of her spine, she can clearly see that Gold is watching her. She flashes him a smile and he looks away quickly, ashamed of having been caught staring, and Belle just giggles. Maybe it’s the moon. They do say that it makes people do strange things after all. Belle reflects as she turns the tables and watches Gold for a while; they’re not necessarily unwelcome things.

With her heather gathered, she goes over to him. He’s also done, brushing the dry earth from his knees. For a long time, they gaze up at the moon together.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Gold nods his agreement. “There’s always something so powerful and majestic about a full moon. It’s awe-inspiring. Reminds you of just how small you really are in the grander scheme of things.”

“Isn’t that what our craft is all about, though? Restoring balance in nature and reminding ourselves of our place in the natural order.” So much of what Belle prescribes and advises to her visitors can be seen as common sense rather than anything magical, but if that’s what works, then she’s never going to interfere with Mother Nature doing her thing.

“Yes.” There’s a smile on Gold’s face, one of genuine, unadorned happiness. “It’s good to get back to that.”

Perhaps it’s the moon making her bold, but Belle chances to take Gold’s hand in the darkness, squeezing gently. She can’t mask her happiness when he squeezes back.

They’re still hand in hand as they make their way back to the town and Belle invites Gold up to her apartment for tea to warm up after their excursion. She wonders if any of her curtain-twitching neighbours are on the lookout and what scandal it would cause if Mr Gold was seen entering her abode in the middle of the night, but she doesn’t care. Her gift has long since set her apart from the rest of the town in certain subtle ways, even if they don’t realise that they are treating her as something Other.

Although they cycle through various topics, from casual small talk to their shared heritage and gift and back again, the conversation never feels like a chore, and it’s only when the moon fades and the sky begins to lighten outside that Belle realises they’ve been talking all night. She doesn’t want it to end, but she knows that it has to.

“Before you go, will you read them again?” she asks Gold, indicating the discarded cups. Gold rolls his eyes, but he reaches for the cup, nonetheless.

“The cornucopia is still there,” he says. “So whatever it is, it’s still on the horizon, and coming soon.”

“I can live with that.”

She doesn’t even have the excuse of moonlight madness anymore as she leans in closer and presses her lips against Gold’s cheek. He doesn’t pull away, and whilst he takes a moment to react, when he kisses her back, on the mouth, there’s no hesitation in it. Belle accepts him readily and wholeheartedly, slipping her arms around his neck.

“Yes,” Gold breathes once she finally lets him go. “Yes, I can live with that too.”

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 12

Foolish Heroes of Barley

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party had returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends. They've been staying in town for a while, waiting for their hired Deathseekers to deal with the dragon in the tower. This session, their stay comes to an end, and as you can see from the image here, they don't get into any trouble whatsoever.

A few other things happen before their fateful final night in town:

Kevin Softbreeze, the herbalist from the Deathseekers, visits town and sells Looseleaf some magic flowers that repel demons- though they're not very potent, and she'll need to stop by his garden in Cauterdale if she wants some seeds to try growing. Saelhen buys some potent knockout drops.

The villagers appear to still be arming themselves and preparing for battle with Wheat- since they didn't mention Arnie as the culprit at all, and tried to pin it on the dragon directly, Malath is still skeptical that they're totally safe from invasion, and defensive preparations continue.

Rumors spread that Chitch has gone missing, but no one can find the body. The party spreads rumors of their own- true ones- that Chitch went to go find his daughter after learning that the pain-wizard is dead.

On their fifth night in the village- somewhat earlier than expected- they notice something outside the window of their rooms in the inn. Lumiere's tower, previously unnoticeable, is suddenly aglow with some sort of yellow cylindrical magic barrier, made up of hexagonal panels.

Looseleaf rouses the rest of the party- the plan is to watch from a distance, and not interfere. A very loud roar is heard in the distance, which is suddenly cut off in the middle- it seems the Deathseekers have sprung their trap.

It's not too much longer after that when they begin to hear screams from around them in the village.

Saelhen's elf eyes spot... something rustling in the fields around the village. All of them. Quite a lot of somethings. Except despite the rustling, she can't make out anything but barley stalks. And the nothing- the hordes of nothing- is moving towards the tower.

The party leaps into action, heading downstairs with weapons drawn. On the ground floor, they see... something sort of familiar. Those Greed Echoes, the mud-and-grass monsters they fought on the road- one of them is forming itself out of broken bottles, dust, and wooden planks uprooted from the floor of the Harvester Inn. Cassie, the innkeeper, is watching in terror, knuckles white gripping a frying pan.

Congratulations! You're both right! The dragon is summoning an army of hateful Justice Echoes powered by the roused hatred of Wheat that's been stirred up in town!

Oyobi thinks fast, and oneshots the echo in the kitchen with an arrow, shattering a bottle that'd become its core. The screams outside continue, though, and the party exits the inn to find panicked villagers fleeing their homes. Justice Echoes made primarily from twisted stalks of barley have formed in their fields and homes, taking the weapons amassed for self-defense from their owners. They attack only those who resist, and make their way towards the tower.

Looseleaf: Let's just attack some hate-plague spirits and see if they decide to attack us instead. If they don't attack us at all, then we can just ignore them and run leisurely next to them and pick them off as we go. If they attack us, then it's a regular fight. "We're up to do some heroism this fine night, right, team?" Oyobi Yamatake: "Obviously!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Uh, I don't have that one prepared, do I? Uh..." Vayen: Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I am up to rub Mother K's face in the super obvious consequences of her actions while incidentally preventing pointless suffering." "Go team! Woo!"

Looseleaf starts us off by rending the spirit of the closest barley-monster, using her new Painspike ability to make the target Frightened of her.

However... these monsters have no purpose except to attack that which they fear, so rather than the normal effect of being Frightened, Looseleaf has now drawn aggro from this monster. Which is kind of what she wanted! So, that's a win! She now has a way to goad the enemy!

The party takes some swings at the monsters, knocking a couple out, but most of them seem to just be ignoring them, continuing to run through the fields towards the tower. They could become a problem for the Deathseekers if they're not dealt with- or for Wheat, for that matter.

Backup arrives in the form of Malath Kanthalga, who perceives these events as- what else?- an attack by Wheat. She's screaming, demanding to know who's responsible, and smashing echoes apart with her mace. Still, the echoes are mostly ignoring the village- they're grabbing anything they can find to use as a weapon, sort of ransacking the place, but most of them are just fleeing.

So Saelhen comes up with an extremely well-timed plan. It's a really good plan, I love it, and I'm excited to hit them with the consequences of her plan- until Looseleaf issues a timely bit of advice:

Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen dashes (Cunning Action), steps forward, inhales a great gulp of breath... "FOOLISH HEROES OF BARLEY!" she bellows. "WHILE YOU FUTILELY WASTE YOURSELVES AGAINST WHEAT'S DEFENSES, I, THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR OF WHEAT, WILL BE HERE BURNING YOUR HOMES!" "AND ALSO MENACING YOUR CITIZENS WITH MY PERMISSIVE IDEOLOGY!" She waves her hooded lantern, unlit, above her head, to drive the point home. "WHO AMONG YOU CAN STOP ME AND DELIVER JUSTICE? NO ONE, PROBABLY, I ASSUME!"

Vayen, in a surprising show of, let's call it camaraderie, is very much in support of this plan for some reason! He takes a break from his busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing every turn in combat to cast a helpful illusion, to ensure as many monsters aggro Saelhen as possible!

A few more rounds of combat ensue, with a good chunk of the monsters- including a few very large building-sized hulks- immediately turning to kill Saelhen. The party gets some good hits in, and Saelhen gets a little roughed up. She... would like maybe fewer things to be attacking her, actually.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Their attention is on me, Mother Kanthalga, the secret mayor of Wheat this entire time, but you might be able to calm their anger! These creatures were born from this town's... collective mind, or something, they may listen to you if you order them to stand down!" Benedict I. (GM): Not with advantage, but a 22... "Wh... what? What are you saying? That's..." She hesitates, then speaks, in a booming voice she- well, you spent a few days here, you know she reserves it for sermons. "STAND DOWN! The time to strike against our foe has not yet come!" "We must be prudent! We must defend ourselves, not attack!" [DEFEND OURSELVES,] the echoes agree, continuing to bear down on Saelhen. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Worth a shot!

It doesn't seem like these things are hugely receptive to emotional appeals or logical argument- they have the one emotion, which they're made of, and they don't super do other ones.

In the following combat rounds, Saelhen... takes a few more hits, which she is not designed to do on account of being a rogue.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WHY DID I NOT DECLARE ORLUTHE THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR

More echoes emerge from the fields and attack, and Saelhen is starting to look really rough- and Vayen just keeps the illusion on her, not actually helping in any way. Until... one of them goes for Looseleaf, instead. When it starts looking like she might be in danger, he fires off a bolt of blue electricity, which begins to singe one of the monsters attacking her for damage every turn. He's... a higher-level spellcaster than anyone else in the party, apparently!

Looseleaf, with a little room to maneuver, unfolds her wings and takes to the air- up and out of reach of the smaller monsters, drawing their aggro and forcing them to waste turns. Meanwhile, Orluthe and Oyobi, backed up by Malath and a couple of villagers who've reclaimed their weapons, cut down a few more echoes as more surge forth from the fields to replace them.

Saelhen... keeps trying to persuade Malath to persuade the echoes to stop. She does very well at persuading Malath to try that! Malath tries that, wholeheartedly, once again to no effect! Eventually, Malath stops trying.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Would you consider coming to them as a trusted comrade, who trained them to protect them, rather than the one leading them off to war? Maybe?" Malath Kanthalga: "I am going to come to them as a very angry warrior with a mace," she growls. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Okay! Okay, fair enough. Spiritual remedies off the table, understood."

Orluthe is getting really tired, and keeps whiffing his swings- it's touch-and-go for a while. But Saelhen and Looseleaf's frantic attempts to kite enemies out of range have been paying off, and they manage to down the remaining super-hulks juuuuust before anyone dies.

Benedict I. (GM): Y'know, it's possible that making the two squishiest members of the party draw aggro was not the number one best strategic move Saelhen du Fishercrown: IT MAYBE WASN'T, NO Looseleaf: eh, it's worked out so far!

The combat wraps up, and we transition to a bunch of Athletics rolls to chase down and terminate as many of the smaller echoes as possible. They build a firepit in the center of town, to dispose of defeated echoes in- just in case that's necessary, because who knows what kind of magic is animating these guys.

So after a wild night of chasing, taunting, fleeing, and burning justice echoes- well, it's not so much a wild night as a wild twenty minutes or so- there's a point at which the fields just suddenly fall silent. A pair of echoes chasing Saelhen fall to the ground, inert.

With a good roll...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...of course, you're free to dismiss this as the ramblings of a crazed outsider. But keep in mind, Mother Kanthalga, that the ones who fell upon your town, tore it apart in a frenzy of violence, and stabbed you repeatedly for your pains, endangering your people, your daughter and your livelihoods, were repeating the words you taught them." Benedict I. (GM): Malath winces. "That... I don't know why they..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...think on it. You're reasonable people, around here. You can come to your own conclusions." Benedict I. (GM): "I tell you, I did not make these things! If not for..." She's kind of lost for words. "...Apologies. I have much work to do," she says, and leaves.

After some work mending the village and cleaning up the aftermath, Looseleaf heads back into the inn to check on Vayen, who hasn't been helping at all and is instead drunk at the bar. He asks "Did she make it?"- and Looseleaf gets a nat 20 on Insight.

She's pretty sure that he was talking about Saelhen- and that he sounded almost hopeful. He was unusually jazzed about a plan that involved her being attacked by a horde of angry monsters- and he chose to shoot the echo that was attacking her, not the one bearing down on Saelhen with a bunch of its friends. When she informs him Saelhen survived, she's able to tell he's disappointed.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: so he doesn't hate us, as a group he hates saelhen specifically Looseleaf: But also weirdly- okay, what if: what if he actually has an ancestral quest involving that bracer and he's mad that saelhen beat him to the punch and furthermore used it as a shitty cover story Saelhen du Fishercrown: saelhen going THE DE LA SURPLUS ANCESTRAL QUEST IS REAL???

Looseleaf switches to talking to Vayen via her spirit-magic imitation of the Message spell.

Looseleaf: (Like, Vayen, everything you're doing is about Saelhen in some way or other. And I can't figure out why. You seem pretty much ambivalent towards all of us except for her. I don't get it. If you want Saelhen dead, why haven't you just killed her? I saw that lightning bolt- if you wanted, I bet you could take all of us, in a straight fight.) (You're sending real mixed signals. If you want her dead, why isn't she dead? Why do you want her to be dead via a hand other than your own?) Vayen: He locks up. And then sighs. Looseleaf: (And now you're sitting here sounding all tired and sad and I feel bad about that.) (I dunno, do you want to, uh, talk about it, with someone.) Vayen: "I don't... want her... to be dead," he says, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I have nothing against her." Looseleaf: (Then it's the- bracer??) Vayen: I'm letting that one Insight roll do a lot of work here, but he definitely reacts to that. "I- um, no," he says, lying. Looseleaf: (There is literally nothing significant about Saelhen other than her bracer, unless you plan on telling me that your deepest desire is to defeat the dance emperor of Kanzentokai in a danceoff and reclaim your ancestral throne of dancing glory.) (Which, granted, if that's the case, that'd be amazing.) Vayen: "I don't know what you're- that's not..." "It's all coincidence. Whatever you're thinking. I don't have- I don't have anything against- Saelhen? Noeru?" Looseleaf: (Look, I- okay, here's how I see things. I don't know how the bracer works, it's weird magic stuff, but the way I see it, there's two major ways the bracer could work.) (That is, you either want the bracer for yourself, because whatever it does or whatever you need it for, you need to be the one wearing it- OR, you just need anybody willing to use the bracer to do whatever it is the bracer's supposed to do.) Vayen: "...Can you not?" "I- I have a job." "I have an important job." "It's from the School of Restricted Arts." Looseleaf: "Well, tell us about the dang important job then! Maybe we can help you with it." "I don't get why you're preassuming that we'd never do anything you might want us to do." Vayen: "It's from the School of- are you listening?" "It's secret." "Look, it's- you don't need to worry about it, okay?" Looseleaf: "Hhhhhrlgkrkshxzshktkrrrzzzzktttttkzzz," Looseleaf says, reverting to her natural dialect in a brief moment of frustration. Vayen: "Sure, it's easier if- I mean, she- that was her idea, she wanted to..." "I just- I can just..." "As long as I can keep an eye on..." He groans. "I shouldn't be talking to you." "You're not in the School." Looseleaf: "Okay, just- hhhjkkkkkrkxxxxxtk." Vayen:"Are... you okay?" He's never asked a question like that before. Looseleaf: (I'm fine, that's just how we express frustration, our throats don't naturally conform to making sounds like 'hrrrrrgh', whenever I do that it's a performative thing that I do to adhere to human expectations- look, the big reason why I'm trying to, pound my way through your portcullis of secrecy with a twenty-foot battering ram of blunt communication,) (is because right now Saelhen is like, probably 80% convinced you're trying to poison her in your sleep.) (Seriously, this amount of in-party distrust is, like, way too Ccorde-damned much.) Vayen: "I wouldn't do that," he says. "If I were going to do that, I'd have done it already. Looseleaf: (If you'd express, in a credible way, that you're actually just trying to get Saelhen to do whatever it is she'd do anyways, she'd feel a lot better about it!) (And then she might even work with you to further your goals directly!) Vayen: He doesn't say anything for a little while. "...This is stupid." "This isn't even- it's wrong, even." "Maybe that's why." Man, that bottle he's holding is emptier than you thought it'd be. He's only been here less than half an hour. "Don't try to- guh, friends. He'll never- stupid. What's the point." He sort of collapses on the bar.

Vayen, it seems, can't hold his liquor. Looseleaf... carries him back up to his room.

Next time: the party finally leaves Barley, for good this time! And also a minor medical emergency happens, and also they kidnap a twelve-year-old, but like, it's fine. It'll be fine. Don't worry about it.

[fenikkusunohisana]

Internal Affairs

“This scandal cannot be allowed to continue. We are a laughingstock.” “What was he thinking ?” “He clearly was not. If he had been, that filth would not have been brought in  here, wouldn’t it ?” “I am certain he regrets falling for that woman’s wicked features. It is  easy to see how she beguiled him with her feminine charms. Who would not fall for that witch?” Gathered in the gloom of the descending evening, high ranking officials within the Kuchiki clan were having a exclusive meeting far from the estate Without Byakuya of course. For the topic of conversation was not one he would have been pleased about. And should he ever learn of these meetings, his displeasure would be unfortunate to witness.

Yet, despite the comments, they respected him.He was the rightful heir to the clan and had the notable lineage, as well as, upbringing to manage the clan. What they had an issue with...was what he decided to marry and by extension, adopted as well. The latter, they had no choice but to begrudgingly accept as she moved through the ranks to captaincy.  Perhaps even, the fact she was strong and garnered good attention..lessened their resentment. Rukia was probably salvageable..if lineage was forgotten. Still a parasite but..more tolerated. Her elder sister...useless. They could not understand what Byakuya saw in her. What the appeal was. She was pretty for a commoner..would make a good prostitute or whore ..but a head of a clan’s wife ? No. She was sickly or had been at least..which puts into question her ability to produce an heir even if they accepted her. Then there was her lack of understanding of the social graces, knowledge and etiquette that came with being from a noble house. No amount of training could change who or what she was. Simply put, Hisana did not belong in their world and if Byakuya could not see it..then they will help him. “That woman has got to go. For the good of everyone, especially Kuchiki-sama. Once he is freed of that burden, he will be free to marry someone closer to his status. Then he can have an heir and continue our bloodline. Even that other ‘blemish’, her sister, can be overlooked if this..happened.” “You make it sound so easy. If Kuchiki-sama found out, we will all be dead..even if it is for his sake.” “I already have a very plausible and convincing plan in mind. It will work..if everything is performed perfectly and efficiently.” Shifting closer, the group of at least seven listened attentively as their underhanded and wretched plans were whispered in the darkness. ------------🌸🌸🌸🌸-----A week and a half later----🌸🌸🌸---------

Hisana had a book laid on a table before her, contentedly enjoying the quiet of the early afternoon as she tried to focus and learn more about her clan, the noble houses and the history of Soul Society. Slender brows were furrowed a s she concentrated. Needless to say, if she did not take notes, she would have forgotten what she read two sentences ago. It may take some time but the summarized notes should help retain the knowledge and be key in reviewing the information later. A soft sigh escaped her lips. It was not that it was boring..it was...just a lot of information. She was making progress..slowly but surely. At the very least, she was in her room, where disturbance was minimal and she could take a break as needed. Her brush paused in its strokes as a familiar reiatsu approached. His footsteps were silent as always but..his aura she knew like the back of her hand. Returning the brush to the ink well, Hisana rose to her feet and went towards the door in time to see her husband in his Captain’s attire. Hm~ A soft smile alighted upon her fair features, eyes shining with vibrance and gentle warmth, reserved for him alone. “Have a good day, Byakuya-sama. “ She inclined her head politely,  genuinely..happy to see him. Expressing herself to him was still..a hurdle but she was trying. It was difficult to gauge sometimes..whether she was overstepping her boundaries or not. Case in point..this request.  “Perhaps..if it is early enough upon your return and you are not too tired,..we can go for a walk and enjoy the stars ? “ Hisana was hesitant. Yet, she kept her voice as soft and as even as possible. She understood he was a busy man and did not wish to interfere in his work..but she was also aware..for their relationship to get better..there had to be an attempt.  That did not stop the nervousness and anxiety from clawing at her chest. Hisana was prepared for either response but..she also hoped he said /yes/. If he said no, then she would understand. It may hurt but it was a gamble. Navigating this relationship was just as foreign to her..as it was for him. The only love she knew or remembered, was the one she bore for Rukia. And that..was a different kind of love altogether.  Byakuya..was the first person..to have made his way into her heart , outside of Rukia. It was no easy feat. Hisana..was not an easy person to love..either, at least not in her eyes. Even now, it was a battle to accept that..despite the things she had done..despite..how dirty she was..he still cherished her..for who she was and not..what she did. And she did not feel as if she deserved that pureness of affection. Never thought it existed for her..and yet..here he was. It was strange. Yet, it was one of the many things she had to overcome..and at the very least, was cognizant of the fact that he would be next to her for as long as it took. And..she’d do the same.

@scnkei​​

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey! love your blog. Could you do a cinderella au maybe?? Thanks

James had had a good life up until his parents died. First his mum had died, and it was a couple years before his dad remarried. He didn't begrudge him for it. Mum had been kind, but she was gone and he deserved to be happy. His stepmother was nice enough up until Dad died, and then it was like living in hell on Earth. Apparently the nice stepmother thing had been an act. His stepsisters had always been kind of bitches, but now it was worse. They didn't have any appearances to keep up, and the only way James could stay happy was by avoiding them. 

So James avoided his step family whenever he could because if they saw him, they'd remember that he existed. If they remembered that he existed, they would do one of two things. 1. Mock him or 2. Give him a chore to do since they'd fired most of the staff when his father died and subsequently decided that James would do all of it. Some years after his father's death, they'd sold the estate despite James's protests-- it was a family home, one the Potter's had lived at for several generations-- and moved to a smaller home. Much smaller. Small enough that it wasn't completely ludicrous to expect for James to be able to take care of its upkeep. 

If he were younger, or perhaps his parents still lived, he wouldn't have hesitated in tossing them out on their arses, or making them so unhappy that they would leave of their own free will. But his parents were dead and he was older now. Old enough and lonely enough that he didn't fancy trying to make an entirely new life for himself with no friends. This was his life now, and he didn't plan on doing much to change that. 

Until, of course, there was an event that changed his life-- not that he ever could have predicted it. 

James was in charge of picking up and handling the post. That meant he was the first one to see the royal invitation. There was a ball. One being held at the palace that invited all people of marrying age in the kingdom to see the prince and hair apparent for the throne so that he might choose someone to marry. James had the vicious urge to throw the invitation away. His step-sisters would be primping and preening every day until the ball finished, and he was going to have to deal with it. Not just their horrid attitudes, but their hair and makeup and dresses. When both of them failed to wed the prince, James was sure they would blame him instead of their own lack of good looks or will. 

He would have thrown it away too, if it weren't for the knowledge that they'd find out about the ball from some other source and then he'd be in deep shite. No. Better to give it to them now and bear the next month as well as he could. 

Easier said than done. 

*

James blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"Have you gone deaf while I was in the market today?" Step-mother asked, none too kindly. "You will not be accompanying us to the ball. I am more than capable to looking after my daughters without your interference. Besides, you would not make the impression we are hoping to make." 

"You're delusional if you think the prince is going to look twice at either of those hags." It would've been smarter if he kept his mouth shut, he knew, but he'd been looking forward to going. To seeing people again. 

*

"So... what are you?" James asked. "Fairy? Witch?" 

"Something like that," the man who had introduced himself as Remus said. 

"Why are you helping me?" 

"I'm not exactly filled with goodwill. I'm doing you a favour so you'll do me a favour." 

"I don't have much," James said with a wry twist of his mouth. 

"It's something you are plenty capable of doing. All I need is for you to deliver a message to Prince Sirius for me. Maybe a few messages, if you manage to give the first one and get one in return." 

"Why can't you do it yourself?" James wanted to immediately accept. Not only was Remus offering to get him into the ball, but he was offering to give him appropriate clothes and fix him up for it-- with a little magic, of course. He'd be able to go the party of the decade without any worries, able to just enjoy himself for a few days. 

Remus's nose twitched. "His parents aren't very fond of me." He gestured to the scars on his face and added, "They've made it quite clear over the years. So long as both of them are living, I can't step foot on the castle grounds, and Sirius is watched too carefully to get out to meet me. So? Do we have an agreement?" 

"Why not," James muttered. It's not like he had much to lose if this was a set-up. Besides that, what would anyone stand to gain from this? James was at the bottom of the pecking order these days. 

*

James hadn't looked this good in... well, years. After his mother died, he hadn't had much cause to dress up for events because he was no longer attending them. He'd looked nice for his father's marriage, but he'd gotten bigger since then. All the housework had made his shoulders broad enough that he wouldn't have fit in his old clothes anyways. 

The clothes Remus had conjured for him were gold. In another kingdom, that might have gotten him into trouble-- someone not royal wearing the colour that was usually reserved only for them-- but the Black family kept silver as their royal colour. James didn't think much of it until the Prince saw James out of the corner of his eye and immediately started working his way over. Was gold a signal colour for Remus and the Prince, and Remus had forgotten to tell him? That would certainly explain Remus's certainty that James would be able to pass along the message. 

James had that idea firmly in mind when the Prince got up close to him, a smirk making him appear even more handsome. Bloody hell, people who were born in royal families should not be allowed to be that gorgeous. There should be a rule that you can either be born into the most powerful family, or you can be the most handsome man on the planet. Being allowed to do both was going to make James's heart stop before he had a chance to really enjoy the ball. 

"Hello," the Prince said, smirk widening into a smile. "I'm Sirius." 

James was staring. He knew that he should say something, but he couldn't unstick his tongue from the top of his mouth. 

"This is the part where you tell me your name." 

"James. I'm er, James." 

"Nice to meet you James." Sirius glanced around them. "Are you here as an escort?" 

James snorted. He'd absolutely be murdered if his step-family discovered that not only was he here, but he was talking to the Prince. "Not as such, no." 

"Dance with me." 

"Aren't you supposed to ask, not order?" 

"Well you're not here to escort someone, which means you're here for me. If you're here for me, why would I bother to ask when the answer is going to be a yes?" 

"A fair point, if a touch unoriginal." 

"Unoriginal?" the Prince repeated, raising an eyebrow. He was still smiling though, so he wasn't offended. "I would like to think that I maintain most of my originality by not asking if you wanted to dance with me." 

"Ah, I guess that means I have to dance with you." 

The Prince's smile widened. "Quite." He offered his hand, and James let himself get pulled onto the dance floor. 

It had been a while since he'd been the center of attention, and he found that he still remembered how to deal with it. A hint of a smile as his resting his face, and he didn't make eye contact with anyone without making it seem like he was avoiding looking. That part was easy. The less easy part was pretending like he wasn't as effected by the Prince's presence as he was. It was one thing to meet him, smile at him, and exchange a few words. James had expected all of that as a matter of course when delivering the letter-- which he hadn't forgotten about, but he was going to wait for a time when less people were staring-- but now his hand was in the Prince's, and he had an arm wrapped around his waist. 

He wasn't pressed all against him so much as to be improper, but it was enough that James could feel the heat radiating from him. Their faces were close enough that he could see the flutter of dark eyelashes when the Prince blinked, could feel his breath, and see the light sheen of sweat across his brow. 

"So, James. What brings you to this disaster of a ball?" 

"Doesn't seem so disastrous to me." 

"That's because you're not the one everyone's groping. Not that you're not worthy of it," the Prince said with a wink. 

"You're the one that approached me, so I hope you don't consider this to be another unwanted grope," James said. The only thing worse than getting out of this party without having a good time, would be if he had a horrible time. If the Prince hated him after this, that would be... well, another disappointment to add to his life. One he certainly did not need. "And if you didn't want this ball, why are you holding it?" 

"My parents are holding it." 

"Ah. Well thank you for the dance all the same." 

"Don't go running off," the Prince said, arm tightening a fraction like he thought James was going to run for the hill. "You're the first decent person I've met all night." 

"Yes, with all that talking we've done." 

The Prince shrugged. "You're fit, as well. I won't say that had nothing to do with my decision. Mostly though, I liked your clothes. It takes stones to wear a traditionally royal colour to an event like this." 

"I can't say I had much to do with it." 

"Your parents give you as hard a time as mine?" 

"Not my parents, no. A friend of yours, actually. Bugger didn't even ask first. Personally, I would've gone with red." 

"Red's a good colour, if it doesn't make you look pale as a bloody ghost, that is. Who is this friend we seem to have in common?" 

There was a careful lightness to the Prince's words. He knew who James was going to say, but he wasn't going to out himself first. "Didn't catch a name," James lied. A description of Remus would get him in less trouble than saying his name. There wasn't any plausible deniability if he said the name. "Pleasant disposition. Had a few scars on his face." 

The Prince's arm tightened again, reflexively. "How is he?" he asked quietly. 

"He looked alright when I saw him. It's not like we're mates. He did me a favour, so I'm doing him one. I've got a letter for you from him." 

"Too many people watching right now." 

"I've noticed." 

The Prince hummed. "I suppose we should enjoy the rest of this dance, then." 

James hadn't been sure he would remember all the steps, but not once for the rest of the song did he step on the Prince's toes or turn the wrong direction. 

The Prince left him with a kiss on the cheek and a muttered, "I'll find you later, don't leave." 

*

"Did he get the letter?" Remus asked, and James nodded. 

He was out of his fancy clothes, but the confidence it had given him lingered. He used to be like this all the time. It used to be that he wouldn't have let his step-family push him around like they did, but he'd been blind with grief and done nothing. "Thanks for the clothes. I had fun." 

Remus glanced at him. "Aren't you going again tonight?" 

James shrugged. "One night was fun, but it's not as if I'm going to the ball for the reason everyone else is." 

"So? You wanted to enjoy yourself. The ball lasts for two more nights, and you have the suit for it. Besides, if I know Sirius, he'll send something in return. If you're not there, I'll have no one to retrieve it for me." 

It didn't take much convincing. 

*

The second night of the ball, the Prince greeted him with a bright smile. He slid a return letter to James at the beginning of the night, but he came back to keep dancing with him. Could James read into that? Could he expect that it meant something other than James was the point of contact between the Prince and Remus? 

The Prince, who kept coming to him dances and smiling like the was the damn sun of his life. The Prince, who kept telling James that he should call him Sirius instead of Your Majesty. The Prince, who at the end of the night, pressed a kiss to James's cheek that caught the corner of his mouth-- and not on accident. "You're coming back tomorrow night, yes?" 

"Not going to order it?" James joked to hide his nerves. 

"Haven't you heard the story? If you let something go and it returns to you, you get to keep it." The way Sirius kissed the back of his hand after saying it was innocent; the look he gave James as he did it was not. "I hope to see you again, James." 

James swallowed, said a perfunctory goodbye, and practically fled the ball. 

What was he doing? This was a favour for Remus. He was passing a few messages between two friends who couldn't see each other in person. That's it. 

*

"Are you going back tonight?" Remus asked, his gaze far too perceptive. 

"Not unless you have a return letter you need for me to pass." 

"I don't." 

James's shoulders sagged without him meaning for it to happen. 

"If you want an excuse, I could always manufacture one." 

James glared at him, but it had no effect. Remus calmly raised an eyebrow and held that expression until James cracked. "He acted like he wanted to see me." 

"And this is... bad?" 

"No, but Sirius said that he didn't like the ball. And then he goes and asks for me to come back." 

Remus didn't respond immediately, taking the time to choose his words carefully. "In my experience, Sirius doesn't ask for things he does not want. If he asked for you to come back, I believe that he means it in the same way you want it to mean. Whether or not you decide to go though," Remus said, turning his attention to the book he'd been reading when James came by, "do remember that the magic runs out after midnight. Like everything else in this world, it has a time limit." There was the weight of a world in what he wasn't saying, and it was impossible for James to miss it. 

*

"But... you came back," Sirius said, sounding crushed. His eyes were wide and uncomprehending. He still had a firm hand in James's jacket sleeve, the only place he'd been able to catch when James tried to run. 

James swallowed thickly. "I wanted to see you again." 

"Then stay." 

James shook his head. Remus's magic did a bit more than conjure the suit he was wearing; it had gotten rid of the cuts and burns on his hands and made him look presentable for high society in a way he hadn't been for years. He didn't want Sirius to see him like that. Sirius was... he was amazing. Too high up for James to be able to touch. Like a cloud in the sky, no matter how close it looked, he was too far away for James to hold and make his. 

"James no, please-" 

"I can't. I can't-" he shook his head again. He couldn't do this. He couldn't try only for it to fail or for Sirius's parents to decide that he wasn't a suitable match and be met with the same curse that had been laid on Remus. James wrenched his arm free, losing a button to Sirius's fingers, and he ran. He started running, and he didn't stop until after the spell ended, leaving him in his usual raggedy wardrobe. 

*

James opened the door and froze. How was Sirius- but no, that wasn't Sirius. James peered at him and decided that this must be another member of the royal family. Not old enough to be the King or Queen, but he was close enough in looks that he was definitely related to Sirius. 

"Can I help you?" he asked. 

Wordlessly, he held up the button that had been attached to James's jacket. "Magic is funny. Had it still been attached to the rest of the clothes, it would've vanished, but separated like that, it could be traced back to you. I'm Regulus, Sirius's brother." Regulus didn't have the same casualness to his posture that Sirius had had. He held himself a touch stiffly, like he was paying attention to a tutor instead of confronting someone who was basically a peasant. "He misses you rather terribly, you know. Won't shut up about it, as a matter of fact. Our parents told him that he had to choose someone to marry like they agreed, and he says that he did choose. However, since you refused to stay and went missing, they are at a stalemate." 

James swallowed. "That's not my problem," he said quietly. 

"Perhaps not," Regulus said in a way that meant he did not agree with James, "but it most certainly is my problem and I have no patience. You're coming with me." 

"That's kidnapping." 

"Not when you're a prince." 

"Do you really think you could force me?" James asked. He'd rejected Sirius once, and that was all he had the strength for. If he saw him again, he wouldn't be able to say no a second time. 

"I don't believe you're going to make it that big a problem for me. You see, you care for Sirius, whether you want to admit it or not. So when I say that if you don't come along, my parents will take drastic measures that will make Sirius very unhappy, I know you won't resist." 

"You're lying," James said, but he wasn't certain. He didn't know Sirius's parents, and he didn't know Regulus. 

"Is that a chance you're willing to take?" 

James grit his teeth. "I can't just leave in the middle of the day with no warning. My family-" 

"Will be taken care of," Regulus said with a careless wave. "Stop wasting time. I've got one rather incensed brother to calm down before trying to sell your relationship to our parents." 

*

"I can't believe you ran away from me," Sirius said, months after the ball and weeks after they'd gotten married-- the marriage would've been sooner had it not been a royal wedding and not needed as much planning. 

James snorted, working out a tangle in Sirius's hair with his fingers. "Frankly, I don't know what else you expected." 

"Something other than utter rejection at the hands of my one true love. A kiss, perhaps? A responding declaration?" 

James kissed the top of his head. "Love you." 

Sirius tilted his head to glare at him. "It doesn't count now. You needed to do it back then." 

There was no magic that James had heard of that could turn back time, and even if there were, he could neither do it nor have access to it. So, in lieu of saying he would fix it or would've done differently (a lie), James gave him a kiss that made the scowl disappear from his husband's face. "I think it counts just enough, saying it right now." 

Sirius grumbled a bit, but it was for show as he relaxed against him. 

[taexual]

HOLIC - 47 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst

words: 2.9k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

           prev / next

Your first stop after you wrapped up at work – and didn’t kill anyone in the process! – was Mark’s bar. You had a feeling Jaebum wouldn’t be there – and he wasn’t – but you were hopeful to, at least, learn a little more about which friend he was staying with. You hoped it wouldn’t be Jackson – you didn’t have anything against him but, after having run into him when you were with Jiho, you still felt embarrassed and, honestly, ashamed – but, after Mark poured you a drink and told you that he hadn’t seen Jaebum in a while, you realized Jackson was going to be exactly the person you’d have to contact next.

“I fucked up,” you told Mark, two shots in. “I really, really did.”

Judging from the sympathetic look on his face, he seemed to understand what you were getting at. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I do,” you said, recalling the last time you’ve gone to Mark to talk about what was bothering you when you should have really gone to Jaebum. “But not to you. No offense.”

“None taken,” Mark replied and, echoing your thoughts, added, “it’s Jaebum you should be talking to anyway.”

You merely nodded, lowering your head afterwards. “Yeah. I’m working on that. He’s not exactly making it easy for me to contact him right now – which is fine. I deserve that. A-and, at this point, it doesn’t even matter if he’s going to forgive me. Maybe I don’t even deserve that—”

“No, hey, d-don’t say it like that,” Mark cut you off, albeit reluctantly. He wasn’t going to pick sides—that was far too childish—but he had to admit, his judgment was somewhat clouded by his decade-long friendship with Jaebum. “You hurt him by not telling him about this but, aside from that, you didn’t actually do anything wrong. I think this is something that talking can solve.”

You didn’t reciprocate Mark’s positive attitude. But, thinking about this objectively, you figured that if you’d have been less upset with yourself right this moment, you would have probably agreed with Mark. There was nothing inherently wrong with wanting to establish your career the way you did – publicity was a key element – and yet you’d felt uneasy about Jiho from the very beginning, so nothing could have justified your reasons for leaving Jaebum in the dark about this part of your life.

“Well, I just want to talk to him so he’d stop overthinking this. If he doesn’t forgive me, that’s fine. He just needs to know what really happened,” you said, toying with the edge of your shot glass, the vodka inside of it looking remarkably dull. Not even alcohol could have pumped the much-needed adrenaline into your veins right now. “I didn’t keep quiet about the whole ordeal to hurt him. I kept quiet because I’m stupid and I should be—”

“Okay, listen, this is a bar, so I get my fair share of customers who try to drown out their self-pity in drinks,” Mark interrupted, taking the shot glass from you. “And, usually, I don’t interfere but you’re a friend, so I’m going to have to cut your supply short.”

“Mark—”

“No, this is it. No more vodka. No more wine,” he replied, his voice almost terrifyingly strict. “Take a deep breath, get up, and go do what you came here to do.”

You sighed, spinning around on the barstool and then climbing off of it. You leaned against the bar – a miserable expression on your face – ready to stand up, but not quite ready to leave to look for Jaebum just yet, even though Mark was right. You had come to his bar to find a way to boost your courage and find a way to contact Jaebum – you shouldn’t have deviated from the plan, no matter how appealing the thought of drinking into oblivion seemed.

“I just—God, I never should have let this get this far,” you mumbled despite yourself and then, after seeing the pity in Mark’s eyes – because he didn’t have what else to say – clenched your hands into fists. “But you’re right, yeah. Of course, you are. I fucked up and I need to fix this—do you… uh, is there any other way for me to get in touch with Jaebum? He’s ignoring my calls and texts.”

“Of course he is,” Mark said. “I’d say to just wait it out but it looks like you’ve waited enough. And you probably have a point – the more space you give him, the deeper this will get into his head.”

“I don’t want it to,” your face was in your hands. “He doesn’t deserve this. He didn’t do anything wrong to be suffering. That’s why I need to talk to him but I—shit, I don’t know how to reach him.”

“Explaining and letting him decide sounds like a good, mature decision. That’s what he deserves,” Mark decided. Hearing his tone take a turn for the happier – he obviously supported your plan – provided you with the much-needed courage. “I-I guess I could call him to see where he is.”

You didn’t think it was fair to ask him to do this and yet, since Jaebum wasn’t staying with Mark, you knew you’d have to ask someone to help you find him so you nodded gently and lifted your eyes to his.

“Could you, please?” you asked. “Just find out where he is, don’t even mention me. I’ll—I will do the rest myself.”

Mark nodded in response and leaned down to pick his phone up from underneath the bartop. He didn’t appear hesitant as he dialed the phone number and you were grateful for that. Perhaps enlisting the help of Jaebum’s friends and, thus—to put it aggressively—getting his friends to plot against him, wasn’t the fairest way to solve this, but, at this point, the lines between what was fair and what wasn’t had blurred so much, you couldn’t even see them anymore. You were willing to take any sort of measures to get to talk to him.

“Hey,” Mark said into the phone after a few seconds, and, even though you couldn’t actually hear Jaebum’s voice over the noise of the bar, his presence was suddenly so much closer and you felt your stomach clench in anticipation. “What’s up?”

You weren’t sure what Jaebum replied with but, judging from Mark’s grimace, it wasn’t something pleasant.

“No, I’m fine, yeah,” Mark said. “I just called because I picked up a few extra shifts and I thought I could do with a familiar face or two in the crowd, you know what I mean? You busy this—oh, with Jackson? Are you, uh—oh. Do you—okay, you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Well, call me if—hmm, yeah. Okay. Bye.”

The conversation didn’t seem particularly enjoyable and even Mark himself seemed surprised by how short it was.

“Yeah, he’s not in a very good mood,” he told you then, putting his phone back. “But I don’t think it’s because of you. Apparently, he’s with Jackson and the creative process isn’t going well. I’m assuming he’s writing—”

“—a song, yeah,” you closed your eyes for a long moment, resisting the sudden urge to slam your forehead against the bartop and stay face-down in this bar until… well, for as long as Mark would let you. “He might not be struggling because of me but I’m still part of why he’s struggling. I have to—that’s not good. I need to see him. You said he’s with Jackson?”

“Yeah, he said he’s at the studio,” Mark replied. “He’s probably staying at his loft, too.”

“I’m not really sure how I feel about getting the cops called on me if I show up there unannounced,” you bit your lip, your mind swarming with various plans. “Maybe I should try calling Jackson first to see how he feels about helping me.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t like to have you arrested, either,” Mark said. “Calling seems smart.”

You nodded, your hands already shaking just from the thought of having to talk to Jackson again. A part of you already knew you would have to do that even before Mark found out about Jaebum’s whereabouts but you still didn’t feel any more prepared for it.

“Thank you,” you said to Mark then. “For everything. I know Jaebum is your friend and you should despise me by default but—”

“Oh, come on,” he shook his head. “That’s kindergarten rules. We’re all adults here. We help each other out, especially if we can see that two people are obviously meant to be together and they need some outside force to help them find their way back to each other.”

A sad smile appeared on your face as you asked, “you really think it’s that simple?”

“I do,” Mark confirmed. “And it is. It’s our anxiety that overcomplicates everything.”

Having spent your whole life philosophizing about every single decision you’ve ever had to make, you couldn’t quite imagine what it was like to live life differently. To just follow the path the universe laid out for you without questioning if every step you took was the right one. To not suffer from anxiety each time you ended up taking a step in the wrong direction. It all seemed foreign to you.

“Hmm. Thank you for that tidbit of wisdom, too,” you said. “And for the drinks. And for—you know what, just thank you for being born.”

Mark laughed at this and gave you a quick salute when he saw you head towards the exit. “Good luck!”

Calling Jaebum a thousand times over proved to be remarkably easy in comparison to dialing Jackson’s number only once—even if you still had alcohol lingering in your bloodstream. That was probably because, when you called Jaebum, you already knew he wasn’t going to answer. But with Jackson… well, he could pick up the call. And then you would have to actually open your mouth and find the words to say. Words that would efficiently explain why you’d acted deceptively for so long – although, the more time passed since Jaebum left, the more convinced you were that you’d have needed a psychology degree to understand why you allowed yourself to take this secrecy so far – and would also convince Jackson to help you get in touch with Jaebum.

You even debated writing a speech but realized that Jackson would probably see right through you. As someone who worked with music for most of his life, he was probably fairly adept at telling when people were reading their notes and when they were speaking from the heart.

Your heart was terrified, however. Terrified and most decidedly mute. You didn’t know what to say – begging seemed like a great option – and you were scared of Jackson turning you down. He was, at the moment, your only bridge to Jaebum because you weren’t quite ready to break into Jackson’s house and talk to Jaebum face-to-face without anyone’s help. Jackson was your plan A and you were afraid of the lengths your plan B was going to make you go in order to achieve the same result.

“Hello?” Jackson’s groggy voice picked up your call. He was a huge ray of positive energy when you saw him for the first time, so it was almost concerning to hear him so serious.

“H-hey,” you started and, not bothering with an introduction, headed straight to the point, “you probably know why I’m calling.”

“I—yeah,” Jackson said. He must have recognized your voice—or, at least, the desperation in it. “Jaebum—he’s… well, he’s here. He’s with me.”

Your heart was really giving its all at pumping blood. You could feel your pulse in your temples, thud-thudding against the telephone you kept firmly pressed against your ear as if your heartbeat could have asked the question you were afraid to voice.

“Can I… talk to him?” you managed, your voice breaking and vision blurring.

“I’m not—I don’t know,” Jackson said and, before you could begin hyperventilating, he continued to explain, “we’re back at my place. The… the writing didn’t go so well, so he’s locked up in my guest bedroom. Last time I checked up on him, he was frantically scribbling something on paper, so I’m—yeah, no, he’s busy.”

Incoherent scribbles on paper could have been a very accurate description of what you were feeling – and thinking – at the moment, as you clutched the sheets of your bed with your free hand.

God, this was precisely the sort of ill-timing that made people give up on each other: you’ve kept quiet while Jaebum needed you to speak up, and now that you were finally ready to talk, Jaebum didn’t want to listen. You could almost smell the end – the ultimate end – and notice the shades of red flames in the horizon – although you couldn’t be sure if that was just your heart or your entire life burning up.

You couldn’t let your wrong decisions ruin the one right one. You couldn’t let the pain of yesterday annihilate every promise of tomorrow.

“Listen…” you started, the ball of regret in your throat making it difficult to get the words out, “I told him. I just—I didn’t even get a chance to follow up anything I’ve said with a proper explanation because he just bolted straight out of the door. And I… I don’t think it’s my stubbornness that’s forcing me to call him every five minutes just to see if I could make him see things from my point of view. That’s not it. I do think I owe him an explanation but he deserves the right to decide which way he’s going to be looking at things. In any case, I need to talk to him and I—h-he shouldn’t be staying locked up at your house, Jackson. Not because he thinks I did something I didn’t actually do—”

“But you did do something,” Jackson cut you off but his voice was gentle. He sounded like he wanted to help and, while you really wanted him to do just that, you also felt like you didn’t deserve his kindness. “You lied to him about what was going on in your life. And this might have been, arguably, one of the most important experiences ever for you, you know what I mean? You cut him out from this big part of your life, he’s—well, he has a right to feel hurt.”

“He does! But, God, I don’t want him to,” you were suddenly talking much faster, trying to race the tears that were coming. “I want to give him my reasons—I-I selfishly want him to hear all of my excuses. So, then maybe he could focus on hating me instead of feeling hurt. I’m the only one that should be suffering here, really—”

“No one should be suffering,” Jackson declared. “This isn’t a Shakespearean tragedy. Far from it, in fact. I… Jaebum sort of overworked himself today, I don’t think he’s slept the night before. Although, God knows, he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. B-but I assume you do, too.”

“I—well, it doesn’t matter,” you lowered your eyes, scanning the wooden tiles of your bedroom floor. You’ve stared at them before but never realized how foreign and completely unfamiliar they seemed even despite living here for months. “All of this is my fault, anyway.”

Jackson exhaled and remained silent for a beat or two before finally saying, “I will think of something.”

Your throat had suddenly dried up as you croaked out, “y-yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I promise I’ll find a way for you to talk to him.”

The sudden feeling of hope was like a jolt of electricity and you leaped to your feet, your lungs taking advice from your heart and going into overdrive as you struggled to find enough time to exhale before you needed to inhale again.

“Jackson—I—oh, thank you,” you spoke rapidly. “Thank you so much, I—”

“I can’t promise that he’ll listen, though,” he warned – which was fair. “But if he does, then—well, just remember to tell him everything you’ve told me that night, okay?”

You had a feeling Jackson meant one part of your conversation with him in particular – the part where you admitted you loved Jaebum – and you nodded furiously before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“I will,” you promised. “I’ll tell him everything. Every single thing. I will not stop talking until he’s sick of me. I just—I need him to know that I—”

“Good,” Jackson cut you off, helping you realize that you were already starting to say the things you should have said to Jaebum. “I know he wants to see you, too, but he’s far too upset to admit that right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

The supportive tone in Jackson’s voice almost caused the tears that had pooled in your eyes to stream down your face in a pathetic shower of sorrow. Both Jackson and Mark had been so supportive of your relationship, you were afraid to think that they might have been more hopeful about your future with Jaebum than they should have been.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, sitting back down on your bed to hopefully slow yourself down. “Look after him for me, please, okay? Make sure he eats and gets some sleep.”

“I—” he started to say but your unexpected request seemed to surprise him. “Yeah, of course. I will. Take care of yourself, too, yeah? Everything will be okay.”

“Hmm,” you exhaled slowly. “I hope so.”

      chapter directory

[bodytoflame-ao3]

born for this // one

When she finally feels the exhaustion drift over her, it’s overwhelming; like the entire weight of the day’s been dropped on her at once. In a way, it has. She’s here now, this is real. Not just the stories her parents told to her, or vague bursts of imagination from brief visits.

As hard as she tries, she can’t shake the feeling of anger in the pit of her stomach — exactly for what, she’s not sure.

or, a next-generation fic following the lives of Percy and Annabeth, and Piper and Jason's children, and a prophecy.

AO3 Link

--

okay. so this is my first attempt in a very very very long time at a multichapter fic. i have absolutely 0 clue how long this is going to be or how fast i'm going to be able to update. but here it is. my take on a next generation fic. in which jason is alive because i said so.

this one goes out to @officialpjo for encouraging this mess

i //

Piper McLean never thought she’d be alive at 18, much less pregnant.

“I don’t know what to do.”

It’s three in the morning, but Annabeth’s still here for her. She’ll always be grateful for that. She rubs her back, and for a moment, it’s like everything is okay. She’ll speak her wisdom and that will be it. Instead (and Piper knew deep down it would turn out this way) she says; “Piper, that’s something you have to decide for yourself. You know that.”

And that’s not very helpful — but it’s true. “I just thought everything was finally going back to normal.” It was. She’d gone back to school and was about to graduate, even got accepted into a few colleges (not that she was sure she’d even go). “What if there’s another prophecy?”

Annabeth stays silent.

“I can’t bring a baby into the world like that, Annabeth. I won’t!” It would put both of our lives in danger.

“Then you don’t have to,” she replies softly, resting her hand on Piper’s shoulder.

“I do, Gods, I want to.” Piper wipes the tears from her eyes, “That makes me sound so stupid.” It was stupid to want to have a baby when she could be pulled into a war at any moment. But this is a chance to make something with her life — something mundane; normal.

Annabeth reassures her, though Piper isn’t sure how much she believes it, “No. It doesn’t; you’re not. You were as safe as you could be.”

Piper tries not to yell, not at Annabeth at least, but her emotions get the best of her this time. “I don’t want you to tell me it’s not my fault, I want you to tell me he won’t hate me!”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then lie!”

She doesn’t acknowledge the outburst, knowing it comes from a place of frustration, not directed at her but the cruel irony of the world (and how familiar she is with that herself). She simply offers a piece of hope; knowing nothing is certain, but it could be. “It’ll be okay.”

Piper lets the silence wash over them for a minute. “What would you do?” She asks, genuinely curious.

“I’ve always wanted a family,” she admits, fiddling with her wedding ring. Of course she does. That's all she's ever wanted. “But it would still be scary.”

“I have to tell him,” Piper says after a moment. He’s just as much a part of this as she is, and he deserves to know, no matter what she decides. And she knows — she knows what she wants, and it’s this.

Annabeth is unflinching. “I’ll come with you, okay?”

“Hold my hand?”

“Yeah.”

Annabeth does; all the way back to their apartment, up the stairs, into the living room, onto the couch, across from him.

“We have to talk,” Piper says, firm, but gentle.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Jason asks, a puzzled look on his face.

“No.” She shares a knowing glance with Annabeth, knowing what it looks like, and suppresses a laugh. Though, in all honesty, they both know if by some coincidence they both ended up single, it wouldn’t be a question, and they’d both know the answer.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Annabeth squeezes her hand tight before she leaves, and then, it’s just them.

“Pipes. You’re killing me.”

She reaches into her pocket and hands him the test, unsure if she could even get the words out of her mouth.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Do you—”

“I’m keeping it,” she answers.

“Hey.” Jason wraps his arms around her. “We’ll be okay.”

ii //

Annabeth storms into her room, barely knocking before she opens the door. “I think I’m pregnant.” She says it, quiet, almost nonchalant. It’s hard for Piper to decipher the look on her face; somewhere between dissociated and awed. But most definitely a little scared.

“I thought you were on the pill?” Piper asks.

She nods.

“So why do you—”

“—I don’t know. I just feel… off.” Annabeth cuts her off, rambling. “It’s possible.”

“Unlikely,” Piper adds.

Annabeth emphasizes, “But possible.”

She knows Annabeth wants this, but she has no clue what Percy’s stance on kids is. To be completely honest, he seems to Piper like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care as long as Annabeth was happy. “Have you two talked about wanting—”

“No… not yet, but...”

“But you do want—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” she admits. She does, and she will, no matter what. It’s permanent — a concrete legacy, that will last as long as the circle of life keeps spinning. And isn’t that what she wanted? It may not be exactly what she imagined, but the thought of it makes her want to cry. With Percy, doing better than her parents ever could, because he’d surely learn from the best; knowing this child would grow up with people who care. Immensely. Deeply. Parents who know what it’s like.

Annabeth wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, composing herself. “I bought a test, I just… I wanted you to be here.” She sighs, and opens the box from her bag, tossing the cardboard in the trash along with a packet of pills from her bag.

Piper pulls them out of the bin, scoffing, “You might still need these.”

She shakes her head, “I already know what it’s going to say, Piper. I just have a feeling.”

“Is it… a good feeling?” she offers.

“I don’t know yet. I hope so.”

iii //

“Is something wrong?” Percy asks, sitting down next to Annabeth on the couch. “You seem off,” he offers. She’s been distant all week, and it scares him. He knows what that distance feels like, the kinds of storms that brew up in their minds.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Annabeth says, because it's not — but it is scary. “I do need to talk to you though. Ask you something.”

He looks at her expectantly.

“Do you want kids?” she asks, a nervous edge lacing her voice. It's something they've never talked about, and she really wishes they had, if it would make this moment easier. In all honesty, she has absolutely no clue what she’ll say if he doesn’t; and his hesitance is no reassurance. Because she does; now more than ever, now that it’s real.

Percy considers his answer. He does. Not desperately; distantly. Not so much that he would have a problem if she didn’t. “Um, yeah. Do you—”

“Percy.” She stops him, because it’s all she needs to hear. “I’m pregnant.”

The look on his face turns from confusion to awe as he processes her revelation. It’s a moment before he speaks again, softly: “Really?”

She nods.

“Wow.” His hand finds her stomach, unable to feel a difference but struck with wonder with this new knowledge. He’s always wondered what it would be like to start a family with her, but for all the daydreaming he’s done, none of it compares. “When did you find out?”

She stares out the window, leaning into him. “Two weeks ago. I didn’t have any good reason to suspect it, I just… had a feeling?”

“Does anyone else know?” He has a feeling he's not the first person she's told. Two weeks is a long time, bottling up something that big.

“Piper.” She ran to her the second the thought popped into her mind. It was only fair — she’d helped Piper when it was her. Piper held her hand while she waited, and hugged her as long as she needed.

Percy analyzes her nerve-wracked expression. “Just Piper?”

Annabeth frowns, looking at him with a gaze that’s trying too hard to be apologetic. “No, I… I told your mom, too. I’m sorry,” she says, bursting out laughing, and trying to hold the tears back. It’s expected by now, but somehow still funny how untraditional they are. “I was freaking out and she’s kind of the best motherly figure I’ve got. But she’s thrilled — if that helps.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he sighs, laughing, “No, no, I think I would die of embarrassment if I had to tell her myself.”

“Well, then you’re welcome… and you owe me.”

“When do I not?” Percy smiles, wrapping his arms around her.

“I know this wasn’t what you expected — me either — but this is the best I’ve felt in a long time. I’m actually happy, Percy,” she sighs, so weary from the world and how it’s beaten her up before. This almost feels like a blessing, even if it isn’t one she planned for.

“No, no, so am I, I just don’t… how? We’re careful.” Incredibly so. He doesn’t want to dwell on the odds of it.

“I mean, nothing’s perfect. To have two different methods fail, though… that’s either just terrible luck or godly interference.” At this point, it doesn’t matter which.

“I feel pretty lucky right now.” No; odds are… he’s the luckiest person in the world.

“Yeah?” Annabeth asks, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I couldn’t think of anything I want more, Annabeth.” Now that it's right in front of him, he knows that.

iv //

“How is she?”

“Asleep. Both of them.” Piper nods her head towards them; Percy clinging to Annabeth as much as he can in the tiny hospital bed. She winces, seeing the position he’s folded himself into, knowing too well how sore he’ll be in the morning. “Estelle was getting antsy so Sally took her home.”

Jason sits down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“I still can’t believe she walked across the stage at graduation nearly nine months pregnant. I barely left the bed.” It was as much a physical feat as it was an ode to her determination.

“Don’t I know that,” he scoffs jokingly.

It hits Piper that she’s never seen Annabeth this happy. Even the day they got married. And then — she had thought the same thing. It’s something she could get used to; seeing her best friend overwhelmingly happy, with the love of her life, and knowing she has everything she’s ever wanted.

Lyra stirs in her arms, wriggling her tiny limbs within the blanket swaddling her. Piper smiles, shushing her before she even starts to cry. “Don’t you miss when he was little?” She asks, curled up awkwardly in the uncomfortable chair, but cradling the baby in her arms so gently.

Jason’s blunt, yet misinformed response: “Pipes, he’s still a toddler. He’s like half your height.”

She laughs, “This tiny. So tiny you’re amazed it’s even a person. When he could fall asleep in our arms.”

“Huh,” his face softens into a smile, “I guess… wow, he was so small when he was born. Smaller than her.”

“I can’t wait to do it all again.”

“Wait—”

Piper smiles.

He speaks, quieter this time, trying not to wake Percy and Annabeth, “You’re serious?”

She nods, “Yeah. Yeah. I found out this morning. Then Percy called, and it’s just been chaos since then. She doesn’t even know yet.”

Piper can tell it means a lot to him, being the first to know, like it’s a secret between them — secrets were inevitably reserved for Annabeth, as they’d been before.

“I love you. A lot.”

“A lot?” She hums, teasing.

“The most.”

Part Two

[entering-mymind]

The Mandalorians - Season 2 Chapter 1

If you have not read my Season 1 of my Mandalorian fanfic I would highly recommend that first, would love to hear feedback! I do not own these characters, just having fun!

Season 1 Chapter 1 https://entering-mymind.tumblr.com/post/190778426753/the-mandalorians

Osa’s “Date of Existence” should have been special, celebrated until the night’s end, but instead other matters had to be addressed and questions would be finally answered.

Din entered the coordinates into the Crest while Osa navigated the route making sure their jump to lightspeed would have no interferences, plus she was always on the look out for any possible tails.

Osa gave the clear as the Crest made the jump heading to the planet Din believed he would never return to, let alone bring Osa back to; Tolarian.

Their journey didn’t take long and as they came out of hyperspace right directly in front of them was a large, grey planet that seemed dormant and vacant of all life. There was no operator coming over the Crest’s comms in order to guide them to a hanger. Actually there was no spaceport to harbor arriving ships because the planet had been owned by the Empire who kept the planet off astrological charts. Only certain scum and villainy knew about the planet and what it was truly meant for, Tolarian was used for something more as Din found that out years ago.

He let the Crest hover for a moment glaring back at Osa waiting for her approval. With a nervous breath Osa nodded her head giving her father the go ahead. Causally Din flew the ship to the approximate coordinates he could remember Anara giving him fifteen years prior, but the journey wasn’t smooth like before.

The atmosphere had gotten thicker, creating no clear visual with their decent while the ship’s consoles (which would guide them) began malfunctioning.

“My screen went black Papi,” Osa informed in a panic.

Din hoped he could somehow reboot the Crests system, but nothing seemed to be working because of so much interference, “Hold on, we’re flying in blind.”

Din kept his hands firmly on the wheel focusing with all his might when the child started making gibberish noises trying to get anyone’s attention. Osa realized her father needed full concentration so she picked the little one up when the two telepathically connected.

Instantly Osa understood what the child was trying to say, since he couldn’t convey words himself, as she became his voice. Like a shock to her system Osa could see what he saw and immediately yelled at her father, “Pull up, now!”

Never doubting her judgment Din complied and diverted from colliding into a mountain.

“Fly straight,” Osa instructed as the thick smog wasn’t clearing up the further they descended, “Veer to the left and make a hard dive downwards,” it was as if Osa could see where the Crest was heading, she just had to guide her father, “There,” she pointed when a dismal city was finally in view.

Memories from the past crept their way forward within Din’s mind but nothing appeared the same. Din put the Crest down just on the outskirts of what was left of the city. Buildings had been demolished, there was no sign of any life forms while an eerie sound of stillness filtered through the air.

Din attempted to get the controls working again but something was preventing the function. Giving up he powered down the Crest and instructed Osa to gear up. The three made their way to the lower deck where Din checked his weapons because a Mandalorian always anticipated a battle, when Osa strapped the child onto her back in the new harness she constructed.

Satisfied with all the artillery he was packing, Din lowered the platform but his daughter wasn’t by his side. He glared back seeing the stunned little girl he thought he helped break through. Without thought Din ran to her hoping she wasn’t about to have an episode but she was more frozen by terror.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Osa honestly said.

“You don’t have to, I can go and find out what I can,” he encouraged.

“I’m not living up to the Mandalorian title very well,” she said lowering her head.

“Osa, everyone embodies the role in their own way, there is no set path because you mold it on how it fits you,” Din declared, “Fear only exists if we allow it, but you have every right to be frightened. I tried to take those nightmares away, envelop you with compassion, but I can only do so much Osa, it is up to you to conquer those fears,” Din placed his hands on her shoulders when she peered up and the two glared at one another through their visors.

“Thank you Papi, you are my strength,” Osa said in honesty.

“And you are my everything, Mi Pequeno,” he replied grazing the side of her helmet with his thumb, “Ready to tackle this together?” Din held out his hand and without hesitation Osa took it.

“With you, we can achieve anything,” when the three made their way out of the Crest to uncover more then what they bargained for.

                                                      *   *   *

The air felt thick, while the grey fog kept visibility hindered. Din and Osa stayed close attempting to use their heat sensor setting within their helmet to help lead the way, but everything had gone cold on the planet.

“Where do we even start?” Osa questioned.

“At the building where you were given to me,” Din informed trying to remember his exact route from before but nothing was the same, “Can you sense anything?” Din looked to Osa for guidance.

“I’m trying not to,” she honestly said.

“Fair enough,” he ventured deep into his subconscious trying to resurface any familiar surroundings.

Din decided to head inwards hoping for anything to jump out at him when something finally did. The insignia of the Rebels was painted on a crumbled wall, if the Rebels were here then they would have focused on taking down the laboratory Osa had been kept in.

In hope Din followed the debris and low and behold he was back in the same alley he had waited down fifteen years ago, but it was more of an open walkway now due to the surrounding buildings being destroyed.

“Stay close,” Din said out of habit.

“Wasn’t planning on venturing off,” Osa stated with a shaky voice.

The hole Anara blew open seemed to have been repaired because new destruction carved itself into the bricks. They walked through the newly developed entrance and carefully walked over uneven terrain due to debris covering the actual surface.

Upon entry the room was dark, only the dim natural lighting filtered through the cracks of the structure, painting unique streaks on the cold surfaces. Din and Osa ventured further when suddenly Din heard a soft whimper come from his daughter. He turned and saw her hunched over, hands on her knees, concentrating not to give in. The child cooed in sorrow like it was experiencing his own nightmares.

“Hey,” Din rushed to them, “Look at me, hear me Mi Pequeno,” he hoped he was reaching her while he stroked the child’s quivering ear.

“I’m okay Papi, we’re okay, it’s just the way the energy given off from this place, how I can see past events play out in this very room,” she tried to explain.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this, you have nothing to prove,” Din reassured her, “I took you away before.”

“No, there are answers here,” Osa glared past her father and pointed, “There.”

They walked over to a circular console with a hologram viewer directly in the center so any viewer could have a gander.

“Let’s hope this still functions,” Din said noticing the partial destruction to the unit.

He began flicking and pushing buttons, performing the standard protocol with any computer unit, the tricky part would be how to navigate the system and hope it wasn’t encrypted or erased, but to his surprise there appeared to be no tampering with. It seemed everyone associated with this building just abandoned it when the Rebels arrived.

Unsure on where to start Din began opening any file and following the bread crumbs of clues, in the mits of his search he opened a folder when several images of all different species of children came up on the screen, but over the image (typed in bold red letters) was one word: Failed. A sudden wave of emotion inflicted Osa knowing these children’s outcomes.

“Why? Why did they have to die and I didn’t?” Osa questioned.

“Don’t do this, you are entitled to your life, you cannot have survivors guilt. I could be doing the exact same by the loss of members from our covert, instead we must honor the fallen, live on so then they live on as well. These children’s stories will be eternal because of your survival because of his survival,” Din pointed to the child, “You have every right to be alive Osa.”

All she could do was nod her head in agreement while staying quiet, memorizing her fellow captives faces. Quickly Din began searching in other files when he stumbled upon one titled “Priority” but had only vague information. A headshot came up of a green creature while a list displayed itself of speculated facts accompanied by video clips of the individual in action.

“Papi that looks like,” Osa started.

“I know,” Din replied looking at the child.

“But older, who is this Yoda?” Osa questioned when she began reading, out loud, the file’s contents, “Name: Yoda, could be a first or last name. Gender: Male. Status: Jedi Master. Is Jedi another term for the ancient sorcerers the older Mandalorians compared me to?” Osa asked her father.

“I assume so,” Din replied remembering the Armorer using this terminology.

“Species: Unknown. Ya da ya da ya da, ugh this information is useless,” Osa was becoming frustrated believing all of her answers would be awaiting her in a nice package, “Why is there hardly anything on this Yoda?” Osa clicked on some of the footage showcasing the Jedi Master’s skills with a lightsaber when the child became excited.

“Do you think the little one recognizes him?” Din questioned.

“No, he thinks that’s him on the screen, wait,” Osa pondered, “Could it be?”

“What?”

“This footage was taken during the Clone Wars, could he be Yoda?” Osa pointed to the child who seemed to be mesmerized by the green figure who looked just like him but older.

“How?” Din asked hoping his daughter would indulge him.

“Wasn’t that the whole reason of the Clone Wars, was for cloning, what if he is a clone of Yoda? We have been to all areas of the galaxy and this is the second time in my life where I have seen his kind. What if his species was going extinct, why lose that kind of power?”

“Or someone else wanted that power,” Din began searching through other files when one called “Yaddle” surfaced but there was nothing in the file except for the word “Deceased.” Din continued on when he came across one about life expectancy, “It seems this little one can live for a very long time, about 800 years give or take,” Din read, “And has the highest midichlorian count among any Jedi, but most important can live on through the Force.”

“The Force? What’s that?”

“I can only assume it is a reference for your abilities,” Din speculated when he clicked on another file showcasing a dozen children with Osa in the mix.

“Hey that’s me, where are you?” she asked.

“In a file called Midichlorian Infusion,” Din clicked on Osa’s image when her file appeared.

“Name: Test Subject 25. Parents: Donors – Anara Xcee (part Changeling) partnered with Silent D (warrior),” Osa stopped reading due to a small chuckle she heard escape from her father, “What’s so funny, that you were put down as a warrior?” Osa laughed to herself.

“No, the silent D, Anara always goofed with me when we were teenagers about my last name. She said ‘what is the purpose of the D being there if it isn’t going to get pronounced in Djarin?’ Hence forth she would call me silent D,” Din reminisced.

“Oh you crazy teenagers,” Osa loved making her father squeamish and he only displayed it when talking about her mother.

Din quickly went back to over looking his daughter’s file when nothing appeared to be helping.

“Inquisitorius Program, what do you think that meant?” Osa pointed out on her file for future occupation, but Din kept quiet only hearing rumors about a select group who were governed to Lord Vader, “We’re getting no where,” Osa complained when Din looked closer.

“Not entirely,” he hovered over Subject 25 infused by Test subject “Y.” Hesitant Din clicked and was brought to several videos and a very small file about the child. Osa’s focus was so intent she didn’t even see her father delete the footage.

“Hey, what are you doing there could be valuable information,” Osa shrieked hungry for any intel.

“No there wouldn’t be, those videos only showcase torture, something I can’t bare to witness because I saw the repercussions,” Din referred to the terrifying night Osa fell ill and if not for Wildaldro’s father Din would have lost Osa.

“Papi,” her voice almost broke when she placed her helmet on his pauldron.

“Alright let’s see what the Empire has on this little guy,” Din stated when Osa straightened and the child’s ears pricked up.

“Do you hear that clinging?” Osa asked half turning around when suddenly a wire lassoed around her body, constraining her and the child, and then finally whipping them backwards.

An escaped scream exited Osa’s mouth as she fought to get free while being dragged across the floor like an untamed beast. Din immediately pulled out his Vibroblade and ran after the two but got slowed down by blaster fire. His beskar armor held up with each blow, but Din was propelled backwards inching him farther and farther away from his children.

Trying to take matters into her own hands, Osa attempted to use her abilities and propel anything loose towards the perpetrator, but the assailant was one step ahead and sent a huge electro shock down the wire and into her and the child’s bodies. Immediate pain surged through their frames instantly knocking them unconscious.

Now that the captives became dead weight this gave Din an opportunity to make his move. Din wished he had his jetpack on so he could reach them easier when instead he ran full force towards the enemy who (to his surprise) was another Mandalorian, but one he was not familiar with nor whom was apart of his clan. Mandalorian or not Din would protect his kin with his life and leapt into battle.

The two were well matched as Din could tell his foe had been in plenty of fights before due to the wear on the green and white armor. Din would add more scraps to the enemies Beskar but had, somehow, become bested.

The assailant threw, what appeared to be an orb filled with a liquid, when Din dodged the item but it bounced off the ground, ricocheted and magnetized itself to Din’s thigh guard. Instantly the orb erupted releasing a deadly toxin when the acid ate straight through Din’s Beskar.

In fear of losing his leg, Din drastically attempted to unclasp his thigh guard but the straps had become soldered together, practically sealing his fate. Din could smell and feel the acid eat its way towards his skin as there was only one venom he knew of that could penetrate Beskar and it came from the Sarlacc, but the erosion would take days where this was happening in seconds.

Somehow this Mandalorian collected Sarlacc venom and advanced it. Din had to think quickly in order to save his appendage and his abducted children when suddenly a female Mandalorian, in blue and white armor, entered the scuffle. She hovered in midair by jetpack while sending blaster fire towards the rouge Mandalorian.

In haste he threw another Sarlacc bomb her way, but she seemed to be prepared and released a hand full of powder dissolving the hazards orb. Hearing Din’s flustered cries, she landed by Din and threw a hand full of the powder on his leg to seize the acids chemical reaction. She pulled out a small laser and burned through the singed straps releasing Din.

Once he had become freed, Din immediately detached the Beskar but upon removal ripped a huge hole in his pants exposing redden skin. Luckily he only suffered minor burns instead of losing his leg.

“Damn, he got away,” the woman exclaimed in anger, running towards the entrance Din and Osa used earlier, pointing her blaster ready to end the rouge Mandalorian’s life.

Without thought Din went to Osa and the child identifying their status of injury, “Mi Pequeno can you hear me?” Din cut through the wire, releasing them from the bond.

No immediate response, he lowered his helmet hearing his daughter’s breath while he rubbed his hand gently over the child’s head. In unison Din received a groggy groan from the both of them. A sigh of relief washed over him knowing they were alive.

“Who are you, friend or foe, who was the other Mandalorian, and why have I never seen either of you before?” Din questioned almost in anger.

“I could ask you the same questions except I am aware of who the imposter is. No one steals Mandalorian armor and wears it without being sworn in to a Creed,” she spat, “And which clan have you sworn your allegiance to?”

“Which clan? There is only one, Clan Saxon,” Din informed.

“So the rumors are true, huh and he still believes he is the leader of the Mandalorians,” she said with acid on her tongue.

“If you’re talking about Tiber Saxon his leadership was short lived. The clan was inherited by his kin,” Din stated.

“I presume Starling Saxon took control?”

“She did, but in the efforts of keeping us safe and hidden she lost her life as did so many others,” Din lowered his head out of respect.

“And now?”

“Hard to tell, the leadership was between Ivee Saxon and Paz Vizla, but since she donned the role of Armorer Ivee out ranked Paz.”

“I have searched across the entire galaxy hoping to find any remaining Mandalorians but none were ever found until now, until a bounty was placed on both your helmets,” she pulled her blaster.

“Hey we’re not the enemy,” Din spoke with his hands up in defense.

“No, then why did the Creed vanish? Mandalorians aren’t frightened children who hide from the enemy, we are fighters until our end,” she spoke in pride.

“Starling wanted the Creed to live on so we took to the sewers on Nevarro where she only allowed two above at a time. We would live in secrecy so our numbers could grow once again instead of being hunted down and being eradicated, but even she couldn’t prevent that,” Din said saddened remembering the pile of armor back at the covert.  

“How many are even left?” her voice almost sounded shaky.

“Hard to tell, we have become scattered again.”

“And is this the reason why you both are out here, trying to escape from the bounty placed on both of your helmets?” she questioned.

“No, a scuffle broke out between the Guild and I, resulting in the bounty but has now been resolved,” Din informed.

“It’s not the Guild who placed the bounty, a new order issued it, someone under the command of Moff Gideon,” she corrected.

“So is this your true intentions on why you helped us, in order to obtain us and collect your reward?” Din slowly reached for his blaster ready to battle again.

“If I was looking for a quick score I wouldn’t turn in someone from my own Creed.”

“But you were willing to end that other Mandalorians life?”

“Do not declare him as a Mandalorian, Boba Fett brings dishonor to our heritage, he is not apart of the Creed and shall not wear our armor. One way or another I will end him.”

“Then what do you want with us?”

“It is time for the Mandalorians to come out of hiding, you will help me find my people as we will unite once again,” she commanded.

“Who are you?”

Din was shocked and surprised by the woman removing her helmet as she revealed soft angular features, yellow greenish eyes, and red hair, “My name is Bo Katan, rightful ruler of Mandalore.”