#I’m going to beat these persons over the head with a lead pipe

[porcelainseashore]

Us

Pairing: Guitarist! Leon Kennedy x Singer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You've joined Chris, Claire and Leon in Stars Rebellion as the band's new lead vocalist. If you thought chasing fame was hard, dealing with your growing feelings for a certain blonde guitarist might just take the cake.

Content & Warnings: Rock bands, friends to lovers, romance, slow burn, feelings realization, fluff and angst, swearing, recreational drug use, drinking, implied alcohol abuse, sexual harassment, suggestive themes, panic attacks, religious guilt, other Resident Evil characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Luis, Irons, Steve).

Author's Note: Mostly imagined RE4R Leon in this, though he's a cocky little shit in the beginning and mellows out later. As inspo, I’ve had Ethel Cain’s Michelle Pfeiffer on repeat and you’ll see why in the story. Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for your wonderful feedback!

AO3 Link

It had only been a few weeks since you’d joined the Stars Rebellion, the band you were currently in, thanks to the recommendation of a friend of a friend. You’d somehow coasted along through college, finally free of your parents’ clutches, and made a new life for yourself along the way. It was as if you could be who you really were, without any tied past or history holding you back, and you’d never felt more alive.

You were backstage, warming up before it was time to head out for your first performance. Chris had come over to give everyone a pep talk, while Leon tapped out a beat on the body of his pacific blue Fender guitar impatiently. Claire was nodding away to her brother’s words as she frowned at herself in the cosmetic mirror, the bright LED lights illuminating her flawless skin. You sat at the back, quietly keeping to yourself as you always do, ignoring the jitters in your hands. The adrenaline was kicking in now, you were used to it. Soon, you’d be a completely different person. It was as if once you were on stage, a match was struck and you were on fire.

For now, you contented yourself with recalling the events of how you ended up with this motley crue. It had been a warm, humid Thursday afternoon, when you were done with your classes for the day, and you made your way over to one of the rental practice rooms at the back of a second-hand record store just a little off campus. Your friend Jill had told you that another friend of hers was looking for a new vocalist for their band. Seeing how you’d been singing on and off with various student bands that never really had the drive to go anywhere, she hooked you up, stating that said friend, Claire, was the most determined person she’d ever met.

So here you were, knocking on the door of the shabby, makeshift rehearsal room, covered in countless band and anarchic motto stickers.

“Come on in!” A chirpy, high-pitched voice called out.

The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it by just a crack, enough for you to poke your head through.

“Aw, she’s a shy one,” a boy with floppy, blonde hair who was sitting at the corner, hunched over his guitar remarked. His tone had no hint of maliciousness in it, just pure curiosity.

“Shut it, Kennedy.” The lady, wearing a distinct red leather jacket that matched the color of her hair tied back in a springy ponytail, rolled her eyes before greeting you with a warm smile.

“Hey…” She stuck her hand out, as you cautiously entered the room, taking in the new faces around you. “I’m Claire. You must be Jill’s friend.”

You returned back a feeble smile as you shook her hand. “Yeah, uh, and the Stars Rebellion, huh?”

“That’s right,” a beefy guy with cropped, dark brown hair behind the drum kit piped up. “Our previous vocalist left,” he paused, with his brows furrowed as if he had been reminded of something unpleasant. “You know how it’s like these days.”

You nodded understandingly as he continued. “We’ve got a sweet gig in about two weeks, so we need a replacement fast. You heard our stuff?”

“Yeah, ’course.” Jill had sent you all the recordings and info you needed to prepare yourself for today.

“Great, so-”

“Whoa, hold up a second,” Claire interjected. “Older brothers,” she sighed. “You know what they’re like.” She pointed towards the drummer. “Speaking of which, that’s my very own one over there.”

“Chris, say hello,” she ordered.

“Hi,” his monotone greeting accosted you while he waved over with a drumstick in hand. His confident and no-nonsense persona struck you as someone who was the natural leader of the group.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s really a cuddly bear underneath,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”

He grunted in reply, still looking as stoic as ever, his square jawline unflinching, as if his sister’s words had no effect on him.

“Anyway, I guess you can already tell, I’m on bass.” She swayed her hips a little, gesturing towards the instrument that was strapped around her.

The blonde cleared his throat, seemingly irritated at being relegated to the position of the last person to be introduced.

“And that.” She pointed over to him. “Well, that’s just Leon.”

With a bold smirk, he cradled the guitar to his chest, as his fingers danced along the fretboard, unleashing a cool, intricate riff that spiraled through the air.

“Also a fucking show off,” Claire retorted.

You caught his gaze and the bright blue eyes that lured you in dangerously close, like you were Icarus flying towards the sun. He was one of those boys your father had warned you about. Handsome, charming, but the devil in disguise. You could still hear his stern words about perdition and hellfire booming in your ear. You closed your eyes before they hurt too much.

“So, erm, why don’t we start with the first track on our demo?” Claire’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.

Blinking your eyes open, you bowed your head slightly in response, before getting into position behind the mic. You can do this. A silent prayer reverberated through your head, as the opening chords played.

And just like it happened every time, that magical switch flipped, and you became someone else entirely different from yourself, yet it belonged to every part of you. As you bellowed, growled and sighed breathily into the mic like a rockstar on acid, you noticed a change in the air around you and how your future bandmates looked at you in awe. It felt like an electric current coursing through your veins. It felt like coming home.

You only needed to go through another two more songs, before they were completely floored and decided there and then that they wanted you in. The vibe between the four of you was great, there was no denying that. And you had already started throwing in some moves that were usually saved for performances with Leon, as all of you jammed together.

“That was fucking awesome!” Leon exclaimed, with Claire following suit. Even Chris was smiling widely.

“Yeah, that felt really good,” you panted, a little out of breath from the exertion.

All at once, Chris patted you on the back, cementing your entry. “Welcome to the family.” You felt your heart tug at the last word. Could you really belong here now?

“Nice to finally have another girl in the band!” Claire blurted out, as she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Mm hm, very nice.” Leon gave you a cheeky wink, before Claire smacked the back of his head.

“Behave.”

“Oh, I will,” he snickered.

You shuddered, wondering how a silly remark like that could get you so riled up, as you chose to suppress whatever thoughts that came bubbling towards the surface. He was just one of those cocky bastards who would let fame get to their head, you discerned. Probably had a bunch of groupies lined up too. So you paid no more attention to him than needed.

A large, rough hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

You shook yourself out of the daydream, coming back to reality backstage, as you eyed the imposing, broad figure in front of you. “Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks, Chris.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As you strode out onto the stage, the crowd clapped and whistled, though the reception seemed rather lukewarm. Perhaps most of them were waiting for the later bands, who also happened to be the more established ones, to play. It didn’t matter though. Your job was to get them hyped up, and you knew how to do it well.

Leon nodded at you, indicating that he’d start running through the beginning licks of the song on the setlist you’d all prepped. At the same time, he gave you an encouraging smile, which eased the tension a little. Even though you’d only got to know him a few weeks ago, you soon realized that your first impression of him wasn’t exactly the most accurate, and that despite being an insufferable prick, he had another side to him that was caring and gentle. He’d patiently helped you run through the songs with him, and even took a couple of your suggestions in improving them. He hung out with you outside of band practice, wanting to get to know you as a person, and trying to make you feel comfortable within the group. Most musicians had a stick up their ass and would’ve never given you the time of day. But he did. You’d even go as far as to call him a lovable asshole.

As the whirring of Leon’s guitar filled the space, you clenched your fist, pumping it above your head as you let out a low snarl into the mic, before belting out the lyrics, your voice raw and powerful as it soared over the riffs and the steady rhythm of the drum and bass. At a particularly heavy drop, you leaped into the air, before landing on your feet and tearing through the vocals as you rocked out with Leon at the front, playing off the energy you exchanged with each other.

It was infectious, like a feverish dream, and the crowd’s excitement grew. Among the sea of bodies pressed together, you could just about make out the look of enthusiasm on their faces, their eyes sparking with the thrill of the moment, as they jumped, moshed and cheered to the music. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, as one song flew into the other. In between, you made sure to introduce the band, thank the organizers and the audience themselves, coaxing more screams and shouts in unison as you teased them about hearing another song, what it was about, praising them on how great of a crowd they were, and with a sly wink, asking them if they could give you more. And they were more than happy to oblige.

In the final track, a devilish grin broke out across your face as you turned towards Chris and Claire, both of them laughing and shaking their heads as they knew what was coming next, before you faced the audience again. Tapping your foot in time to the beat, you murmured sultrily into the mic, “You wanna see me swallow this mic whole?”

The crowd went mental at the proposal as your velvety laughter rang out across the venue. “Come on, you can do better than that.” You pouted, licking your lips suggestively. “How much do you want it?”

Once the crowd roared, you nodded in approval and pulled the cord of the mic taut between your hands, making a grand show of it, as you tilted your head back, slowly inserting the head of the mic downwards into your mouth. As it went in, you bit at the bottom of the head, gripping it securely between your teeth, as you went hands free and a scream ripped through your throat at the climax of the song. 

Sweat and energy radiated from every pore, as your band members kicked into action. Leon jutted his hips out, launching into a fierce, breathtaking guitar solo, his fingers pressing and weaving in and out of the strings like a blinding lightning. Claire remained the grounding force in a whirlwind of melodies, keeping a consistent beat effortlessly, as her head swayed from side to side. Chris added to the wall of sound with each strike and rattle of the snare drum, quickening the pace as he worked in the bass drum pedal and clashes on the cymbals in perfect timing, his eyes laced in concentration on the controlled chaos unfolding before him.

To say you ended in a bright explosion of sound was an understatement. The four of you hugged each other tightly and bowed to a resounding chorus of cheers and hoots, stamping their feet for yet another encore. You saluted and waved at them, your final words spilling out into the mic in gratitude, “Thanks so much, we are the Stars Rebellion! Have a good night!”

As you headed off stage, Leon pounced behind you, pulling you flush against his chest in a sweaty hug as you gasped in surprise. His hair was in a mess, darkened and clinging to his forehead in damp tendrils. “Holy shit, you were a completely different person up there! Y’know, like Ian fucking Curtis or something?” 

He blabbered on nearly incoherently, name-dropping various famous lead singers. “Karen O, yeah? And Alice Glass…”

“God, just give her a break already,” Claire giggled as she shoved Leon off of you.

You stifled a laugh, your meek personality returning the more you moved away from the spotlight. “Yeah, I guess? Um, thanks.”

Leon paused, looking at you in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jeez, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Lady in streets, freak in the sheets,” he mumbled almost inaudibly as you choked on your saliva and coughed violently at his quip.

“Leon,” Chris warned, as Leon held his hands up in mock surrender. 

Turning towards you, Chris sighed wearily, “Sorry about that. You did good though.”

Before you had a chance to answer, an alluring, provocative voice interrupted. “You all did good out there.”

Spinning around, you came face-to-face with a stylishly dressed lady in a red, skintight catsuit and dark leather heeled boots. A sleek, black bob framed her face, highlighting her sharp features and high cheekbones. You noticed that she focused all her attention on Leon, even though she was addressing the group.

Leon’s eyes widened, her outfit clearly seemed to pique his interest, and you could feel Chris tense up behind you, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At this, Claire whispered into your ear with a hint of venom, “That’s Ada, the bassist of Midnight Sun.”

Midnight Sun. That rang a bell. They were one of the more established bands in the scene, though you’d heard rumors about how haughty they could be and that they would stop at nothing to climb their way up.

“Oh, there you are.” A man with slicked-back blonde hair and dark sunglasses sauntered over coolly. If someone had told you that he was an extra from The Matrix, you would’ve believed them in a heartbeat. 

The look of disdain was prominent on his face as he glanced over at you and your bandmates. He clucked his tongue derisively. “Tell me, what is it like being the warm up crew?”

Leon was about to lash out, but Chris’ reflexes were faster, holding his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Leon huffed, as he shrugged Chris’ hand off, conceding to remaining cordial for now.

“Wesker, you’re on next!” A stagehand called out from afar.

The man tipped his head in response, before wrapping an arm around Ada’s shoulders, pulling her away from your group as he smirked. “Watch and learn, amateurs.”

“Bunch of douchebags,” Claire muttered as all of you made your way towards the dressing room to freshen up. 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Leon peering over his shoulder another time at the lady in red.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Seriously? That’s what was written?” You groaned, chucking Leon’s phone to the side as both of you lay sprawled out on a picnic mat across a grassy hill which connected to a park. A couple of liquor and beer bottles littered your side. Clearly, this was more of a boozy brunch than an actual brunch at all. You should’ve known better than to trust Leon to prepare something substantial. However, whenever he was around you, it seemed like he would make an effort to control his drinking habits, at least to a point where he was only tipsy but not wasted each time.

Since the last gig, the band had received many other offers to play at various venues and Chris had been eager to accept them all, in the hopes of attracting a talent scout who would spot and sign you to a major label. You’d gone on stage a few more times, with each round bringing you new fans and followers, as well as getting hounded by music journalists. Claire seemed to have a word for everything and this was no exception. She described them as rats, and in particular, a man named Luis Sera proved to be the biggest one of them all.

You remembered his irritating voice which had a slight lilt to it, as he called out for you after one of your shows in the previous month. “Señorita… hey!”

He definitely had a flair for making a spectacle out of everything that he did, and soon you’d discover that he was also a master of exaggeration. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mi amor.” He bowed his head dramatically, as he took your hand, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips.

In the end, your band had given him half an hour of your time, only for him to grossly alter whatever answers all of you had provided during the interview when the article was published. He had pitted the Stars Rebellion against Midnight Sun, when in your opinion, both bands sounded nothing like each other and he was just doing it to stir up sensationalist shit. In addition to that, he spent most of the article writing about your looks and sex appeal, as opposed to the actual music.

To be fair, that was part of your showmanship, but it seemed like yet another case of sexism in the industry, where other male vocalists weren’t subject to the same fate as you and the handful of frontwomen, who still cut their teeth and pushed forward.

“Great,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Now, not only have we become an even bigger rival of Midnight Sun, he’s got people wondering if I can actually sing at all!”

Leon seemed amused by your mini outburst, but was otherwise unruffled by the comments in the article. “That’s what journalists do.” He shrugged. “Create fucking bullshit and drama. What’s new?”

He turned over to face you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly before letting it go. “You’re insanely talented, you know that. Don’t listen to them.”

You smiled at his affirmation. The past months had flown by in a blur, and along with it, your bond with Leon had strengthened. You were the very definition of fast friends, having discovered many similar interests and common topics of conversation between the two of you. Although he still made the occasional off-putting remark, and was a bit of an attention-seeker, especially among the ladies, you enjoyed the time spent with him. It felt like you could be yourself and could talk to each other about anything without judgment.

Judgment. That word aroused conflicting feelings within you. On the one hand, being on stage felt freeing and you could do so many things there that would’ve been considered shameful in any other public situation. It was as though you could ignore the judgment or were immune to it. Yet, when it was time to return to the ‘normal world’, judgment haunted you wherever you went.

“Got a question though.” Leon grinned, and you knew he was coming up with another one of his pesky jokes again. “Can you sing?”

You whacked his chest as he howled with laughter. “Alright, come on, look. We’ll do it together, ok?” He whipped out his phone again, tapping on his music playlist. “I just wanna hear you sing something softer, please?”

Sighing in exasperation, you gave in to his curiosity, clearing your throat as you exposed the falsetto that you’d been hiding all this while in the city you’d run off to for college. Leon joined you on the backing vocals as you flowed through the song together, while you tried to ignore his gaze which lowered at your lips, seemingly entranced by what he was listening to. A blush crept up along your neck as the song ended.

“Didn’t realize you had that side to you,” he muttered in astonishment. “Where did you-”

“Church choir,” you uttered abruptly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him even more. “Didn’t take you as the religious kind.”

“I’m not.” You swallowed thickly, looking away.

“Your parents-”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a little harsher than intended.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off, before sharing about his background instead. “My parents were kind of shitheads too. Well, mostly my old man.” There was another pause, as he shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Liked the bottle a bit too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You placed your hand over his, as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Don’t be. The band’s our family now.” He shifted himself up to his elbows, kicking mud off his boots. “Anyway, we don’t have to talk about your folks if you want.”

You softened up at this, realizing that he still had your best interests at heart, though a part of you felt like divulging what you had kept to yourself for so long. “It’s embarrassing,” you began. “Singing like that, kinda reminds me of the past I wanted to leave behind.”

Twiddling your fingers anxiously, you continued. “My parents were very into that whole religious thing. You could say it was almost cult-like,” you laughed nervously. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be, so I got out of it.”

Frowning, you pursed your lips as a vague memory of leaving your hometown amid a heated argument and tears came to mind. “Haven’t spoken to them in years. Probably disowned by them by now.”

“Their loss,” he replied sharply, staring you dead in the eye.

It wasn’t something you had expected to slip out of Leon’s mouth, but he had articulated it so transparently. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“You could’ve been a great televangelist,” he joked, and you chuckled along with him, finding humor in the otherwise unpleasant subject.

“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” You took a swig of the vodka bottle he offered you, wincing as the smooth liquid burned its way down your throat. “You know, when I’m up there performing, it feels like I can be whoever I want to be.”

“You can be whoever you want with me,” he spoke softly. You tried to search for any disingenuity in his eyes, but found none. “I like you all the same.”

“I like you too,” you professed, only to contort your face in horror a split second later, as you realized the implications of what you had just said. “Uh, I mean, not like that,” you sputtered helplessly. “You know, like-”

He rolled his eyes and snickered. “C’mere.” Tugging at your hand, he pulled you in close, giving you a solid hug. 

Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling deeply and relaxing in his embrace. Both of you carried a mild scent of alcohol, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to find a like-minded soul who saw you for who you were, as you did with him.

A random thought popped up in your head that you wanted to run by him that instant. It gnawed at your chest, waiting to escape. “Leon?”

“Mm?” You could feel him nuzzling your neck and wondered if he had gone past being tipsy.

“What do you think about writing a softer song? Like something more emotive,” you explained.

He still didn’t let you go. “I think that sounds great,” he murmured into your ear. “We’ll write it together.”

“Just you and me, us against the world,” he added wistfully.

You wondered what had gotten into him, but the idea of working on this creative project together felt right to you. Like a link in the thread of fate that was meant to happen.

“Us against the world,” you repeated, sealing your fate, as you felt his smile against your skin.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On a hot, sunny afternoon, you were grabbing milkshakes with Claire, before heading over to the skatepark, where another friend of hers, Steve, was trying out a couple of new tricks. He had a slender build and spiky red hair, with a punk aesthetic. In other words, the perfect skater boy. You were pretty sure he had a crush on Claire, but she seemed to be either oblivious or ignored it outright. Whenever he landed a cool trick, he’d look over at Claire for approval, only for her to give him a friendly thumbs up. 

While you sat by the benches, Claire turned towards you, wiggling her eyebrows as she commented, “You and Leon have been hanging out a lot together lately.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to appear nonchalant about it, as you sipped on your milkshake guardedly.

Truth be told, the increasing amount of time spent with Leon was causing certain inconvenient feelings to grow within you. You lied to yourself, claiming you saw him as nothing more than a friend. Falling for a lovable asshole was out of the question, especially one who might break your heart. Yet, the day where both of you drank in the park, accepting each other in ways you never thought possible, constantly replayed in your mind. Then there was the song you were working on together, the late-night calls, and the pick-me-ups for days when either of you needed support. He would drop everything to help you, and you were there when he sought comfort.

Each time you saw him flirting with one of the female fans or exchanging coy looks with Ada, you died a little inside. He was just a horny 23-year-old guy chasing after anyone with legs - at least, that's what you tried to convince yourself. So, you stayed silent about the whole affair, holding back how you really felt about him, in order to preserve your friendship.

“Anything going on between you two?” Claire asked casually.

What else could you expect from a final-year Communications major? Of course, she would have picked up on how weird you’ve been acting lately.

Still, you continued fighting a losing battle. “We’re just friends,” you asserted, poking absentmindedly at the leftover froth and cream in your drink with the straw.

She wasn’t having it though. “The question is, do you want it to stay that way?” Checkmate. You could almost see her gloating at you as you froze.

You shook your head, sighing defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter, he’s into other girls anyway.”

“Have you told him?” Crap, she got you there again.

You just gave her a noncommittal shrug.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you.” She set her drink down with an air of determination, as if she meant business. “In all my sad years of knowing that loser, he’s never behaved this way with a girl like you. Maybe he just needs a little push to see that.” Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side. “You should tell him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You sucked up the rest of your drink until there was nothing more than the bubbly, gurgling sound of air and drops of fluid. With a mischievous twist of your mouth, you added, “By the way, you should probably tell Steve you’re not interested.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When you had finally plucked up the courage to try and tell Leon about your true feelings, things didn’t go exactly as planned. For starters, he had been rather distracted about the upcoming music festival that your band would be participating in and specifically, a promo event that was tied to it. It was all he wanted to talk about, so you couldn’t get a word in.

“It’ll be the perfect opportunity to get noticed,” he pleaded. “You have to go!”

“I’m not- I don’t do very well in these types of social situations,” you argued. “You know that.”

“Excuses,” he huffed dismissively. “It’s gonna be fun, come on.”

“Chris and Claire will be there with you,” you countered again.

Placing his hands on your shoulders, he declared, “No, I want you.”

Although you knew he didn’t mean it any other way, your cheeks flushed as you turned your head away, heart throbbing at the innocuous statement he had just uttered.

“I’ll be there beside you, the whole time,” he promised. “Please, just come along?”

Biting your lip, you weighed your options, even though your emotions had already gotten the better of you, and you had made your decision regardless of what he might say. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.”

Unfortunately, you wish you had never agreed to him in the first place, because 24 hours later, you were singing an entirely different tune.

Leon had picked you up and headed over to the event with you as arranged. It was held at a swanky members-only club with a lot of pomp, ass-kissing and too much champagne. You felt completely out of place there, but tagged along like a lost puppy behind Leon, who was reveling in the publicity and getting to know who’s who. A number of the other festival bands were there, but you weren’t particularly close to them beyond a courteous ‘Hello’. You fiddled with the cocktail that Leon had got you, praying that the Redfield siblings would show up sometime soon.

At some point, Leon caught your attention, every so often looking over his shoulder for something, or someone. “I, uh, I need to head to the restroom.”

You nodded in puzzlement, wondering why he seemed so shifty all of a sudden.

“Cool, um, I’ll make it quick.” He gave you a sheepish smile and a wink before heading off hurriedly.

He looked even apologetic? You shrugged off that thought, nursing the lone drink in your hands as you thumbed the fabric of your silvery playsuit. After a while, you checked the time on your phone. A good ten minutes had passed, but he hadn’t returned. Weird, did something happen to him?

As you continued waiting, it started to dawn on you how oppressive and suffocating the atmosphere was. It reminded you of the times when you were surrounded by the rest of the community you’d grown up with in church, scrutinizing your every move. Cold sweat formed on your palms as your breathing grew rapid and shallow. A sense of dread developed within you as your vision narrowed.

Oh god, oh god, not here, no… You latched onto the wall for support, trying to apply the tactics you usually used to calm yourself down.

“Hey there!” Claire’s upbeat voice pierced through the downward spiral you had nearly been consumed by. “Where’s Leon?”

“Um, he went to the rest-”

“What the fuck.” Claire’s jaw dropped wide open and when you followed her line of sight, you understood why.

From afar, you spotted Leon and Ada in tow, sneakily heading out of the restrooms. Bold red lipstick was smudged across Leon’s face as he wiped away at it furiously, and his pants remained unzipped, like an afterthought. Ada combed through her ruffled hair with her fingers, adjusting the bottom of her figure-hugging dress. There were no guesses as to what had occurred there. Your mouth ran dry.

“That fucking-” Claire growled. “Ugh, I’m gonna wring his neck!”

“Claire, it’s okay.” You tried to placate her, but your voice was quivering.

She turned towards you, eyeing you sympathetically as she rubbed your back. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Well, Chris is getting some drinks. Let’s go join him?”

You accepted, making your way towards the refreshments table, still mulling over what you had just seen. As you picked up a glass of sparkling wine, Claire relayed the entire scenario over to Chris, who just shook his head disapprovingly.

A few moments later, Leon had stumbled upon your group. “Where’ve you been? I was looking all over for you!” He barked, visibly frustrated at your disappearance.

Claire scoffed, and without another word, bumped against his shoulder as she brushed past him. Chris followed suit, without the bumping, though he made a face at Leon as he chugged down his beer. They expected you to come along, but you hung back, giving Leon one more chance to redeem himself.

“What’s up with those two?” he muttered in annoyance.

You held his gaze impassively. “What took you so long?”

“Is this a trick question or what?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he tried to evade your quizzing.

But you didn’t let up, not budging from your place until you had an answer.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “There was a queue, okay?”

A rush of disappointment and heartache surged through you. The least he could’ve done was to be honest with you, but he hadn’t even managed that. He was lying directly to your face, which currently felt as if it had been given a tight slap in humiliation. With whatever dignity you had left, you excused yourself from the table, heading over to the Redfield siblings, as Leon looked on in incredulity and disbelief.

You spent the rest of the evening with Chris and Claire, who were mostly interested in the free food and drink, and knew a couple of the chiller, more down-to-earth musicians on a personal level. In an unexpected turnaround of events, you were actually having fun chatting with people who appeared to be on the same wavelength as you and making wisecracks about corporate functions like these.

In fact, it served as a fairly effective distraction from the boy you were pretending didn’t exist. He lurked around like a shadow, leaning against the walls in the corridors and the sides of the rooms. You saw him everywhere, hovering just within reach. Scowling moodily at you and your newfound friends, he tossed back a never ending supply of alcoholic drinks. You suspected he was on the verge of getting sloshed by now, and although a part of you was concerned about his well-being, you didn’t want to play the role of a babysitter, at least not for tonight.

Towards the end of the night, Chris and Claire had decided to take their leave and you would too, after getting some fresh air by the pool. However, this proved to be a mistake, as the minute you were left alone, you heard heavy footsteps shuffling up next to you. You felt a pit in your stomach, knowing well who it was before even facing the culprit.

“What did I do wrong?” Leon was slurring his words, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. The stench of alcohol on him was overwhelming.

Wrinkling your nose, you backed away, stating plainly, “You’re drunk, just take a cab home.”

“Don’t-” He grabbed your arm, attempting to steady himself. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Leon,” you warned.

“What happened to us against the world, huh?” he retorted.

“Did you think about that when you ditched me to fuck around?” The accusation tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to rein it in.

His grip on you loosened, as guilt flashed across his eyes. “That- I, it wasn’t-”

“You’ve always been a bit of an asshole,” you interjected. “But a loveable one, who was also sweet and kind.” Tears started to collect at the corners of your eyes. “Now, you’re just completely horrible,” you spat, with a look of disgust plastered across your face.

Leon’s face contorted in anguish as he tightened his hold on your arm again. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t like you like this,” you admitted, trying to break free from his grasp, as tears started to roll down your cheeks.

He tried to reach out with his other hand and caress your face, but you pushed it away. “Let go,” you demanded.

However, it seemed as if he couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to be as far away from him as possible. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Can’t we just sort this-”

Then, something in you snapped. All the times when you had finally had enough and set your boundaries in the past, burning bridges along the way, came to a head. “No!” you yelled, shoving him off you, as he fell backwards and landed into the pool with a loud splash.

Some of the spectators laughed and jeered, as he floundered around mostly in shock, while you stormed off the site.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next band practice session was awkward to say the least. You were running a few minutes late and when you’d reached, you could hear the shouting from outside the door to the studio.

“... sleeping with the enemy!”

“How is Ada an enemy?”

“You’re always messing things up for us!”

“Okay, break it up you two.”

Expelling a hefty sigh, you swung the door open, and the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. You could feel their gaze on you as you placed your bag in the corner before getting to your usual position behind the mic, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Leon. The festival was coming up in the next month, and on top of that, you still had a smaller gig to play in between then. The last thing you wanted was for personal issues to get in the way of professionalism, so you buried your emotions deep within the abyss.

“Hey, um, you, uh-” Leon croaked out, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him, turning instead towards Claire.

“Sorry I’m late, shall we get started?”

Despite regarding you with a look of concern, she obliged and Chris counted off before all of you jammed to the opening song.

It continued on like this, where you gave Leon the cold shoulder. You had stopped hanging out with him and only communicated when necessary. He didn’t realize how much he would miss your company until it was gone. Things felt duller and emptier without you. Whenever he wanted to share his joys, sorrows and just the mundane things that were happening in his life, he’d try to call you, only for it to go unanswered. He left you countless voice messages, each more desperate than the last one, ranging from a mixture of hurt, blame and grief. It had only been a little over two weeks, but he was starved and alone, without the person he could truly count on. The song you had been working on together remained unfinished.

During the smaller gig you were playing at, you rocked out with Chris and Claire near the back, instead of vibing with Leon at the front. Maybe you were being petty with the way you were treating Leon, but he hadn’t given you a proper apology since the incident. The chemistry and connection between the two of you on stage was lost. Nonetheless, you gave the performance your all, and the fans went wild, so much so that when you crowd surfed, you ended up with shredded leggings and a bloody mouth. A random fan tried to grope you, but security intervened and you were dragged back up on stage by Leon, whose eyes were clouded with worry and apprehension. However, the adrenaline numbed the pain and you finished the gig on a high note, leaving the crowd buzzing with exhilaration and the sound of thunderous applause. It was a confidence booster and a great way to warm up for the festival gig.

Backstage, Claire helped you with cleaning the cut on your lip, as you reassured her that you were fine and such injuries were inevitable when you threw yourself headfirst into the crowd. She made you promise not to pull that stunt again, at least for the foreseeable future, before leaving you to finish up.

Just as you were heading out to regroup, an older, bearded man with neatly styled, graying hair and donning a snazzy waistcoat approached you.

“Brian Irons.” 

He held out a sleek, matte finish card with a crisp white background, his name in bold, black font in the center. Below, in smaller, elegant sans-serif type, were the record label he managed and his contact details. A thin, silver border surrounded the edges of the card adding a touch of sophistication. You took it from him, rapt by the design.

“Shall we speak somewhere in private?” he offered, beckoning towards one of the empty dressing rooms towards the end of the hallway.

In your elation and unwillingness to turn down such a timely opportunity, you jumped the gun, accepting his request immediately without waiting for your bandmates. Instead, you messaged them the details and informed them you would join them soon after.

“Amazing show,” he complimented. “You really are quite stunning.”

“Thanks, um, Mr. Irons.” You shifted your weight between both feet nervously, unsure of how to respond. Something in the way he looked at you made you seem like a prey caught in a bear’s trap and his words felt loaded.

“For you, it’s Brian, honey.” His lecherous tone sent shivers down your spine.

“Brian,” you echoed, slowly backing away to put some distance between you and the man.

“So, you kids wanna get signed, huh? Stars Rebellion, wasn’t it?” He advanced towards you with deliberate, measured steps, as if he were playing with his food at the dinner table.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, regretting the decision you had made earlier and the direction this conversation seemed to be steering in.

“Well, I can certainly help with that…” 

Your back was flat against the wall now, as he sidled up to you, eliminating any space between you as he caged you in with his body. His breath felt hot and heavy against your cheek, and reeked of coffee and cigarettes. As his hand rode up your thigh, you closed your eyes, holding your breath as a nauseating wave crashed over you and you tried not to puke.

“The fuck’s going on here?” A sharp, biting voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Brian pulled away and you saw Leon by the doorway of the dressing room seething with fury and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, easy there, kid. Just getting acquainted, that’s all.” Brian tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Leon wasn’t having any of it.

“Get away from her,” he ordered, his steely demeanor unrelenting. “Now.”

Brian backed off, but came up to Leon threateningly. “Talking back to me like that?” he sneered. “I’ll make sure you’re ruined, punk.”

Leon took a step closer, issuing an unspoken challenge. “Yeah? Go ahead, sue me.”

At this, Brian cocked his fist back before taking a swing at Leon. Leon ducked to avoid the blow, shoving him aside as he unleashed a quick jab which connected with Brian’s nose. Brian fell to the ground, whimpering in pain while covering his face with both hands. Blood trickled down, staining his shirt as he cowered before Leon.

“Touch her again and I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Leon hollered. “You hear me?”

Brian nodded furiously as Leon walked briskly across the room, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before leading you out with him. Once you were at a safe distance, he cupped your face in his palms, examining you for any further signs of injuries.

“You okay? Did he hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, instead you clung to him in a tight embrace as your body trembled uncontrollably. He held you against his chest, resting his chin on your head as he stroked your hair soothingly. Both of you stayed there for a while, locked in each other's arms, until he suggested, “Let’s get you home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When Leon had informed Chris and Claire about the events that had transpired, they vowed to keep a closer watch on you and each other. There was now an agreement that if the whole band could not be present at a meeting, then at least two people at the minimum should be there.

Your band had upped the intensity of the practice sessions, as the date of the festival loomed nearer. However, when Jill spontaneously announced that she was organizing a house party at her place, all of you jumped at the invitation, seeing it as a way to let off some steam.

At the moment, you and Leon were in this weird, intermediary state of being not quite friends, yet not quite on opposing ends either. It seemed as if it was eating away at him inside, since the minute he saw you at Jill’s place, he weaved through the throng of familiar faces and approached you, asking if you were ready to talk about the elephant in the room. It wasn’t possible to keep ignoring him forever and you were tired of all the arguments and drama that had occurred lately. So, you decided to let him into your life again, or maybe just a foot in the door for now.

In one of the quieter rooms of the house, you sat beside Leon as he initiated an apology for the first time for his prior actions. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, I really am.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I was a complete dick-”

“Yeah, you were,” you replied testily. “I panicked, when you, um, took your time.”

“What? Shit.” He looked down at his hands in shame, balling them into fists. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want that to happen to you.” 

Clenching his jaw, you saw him drown in a sense of self-loathing. “God, I keep fucking things up. Please-” He took your hands in his, squeezing them as if he were proposing. “I’ll make it up to you, just give me another chance to prove it.”

“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was as if a dam had broken, and he couldn't stop himself from pouring out all his admissions. “You weren’t talking to me, you weren’t returning my calls…”

“Whenever something stupid came up, all I could think about was how much I wanted to tell you about it.” His eyes glazed over, as if he were recalling a distant memory. “Guess I kinda took you for granted.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you made yet another decision against your better judgment. Although you had no guarantee that he would not repeat the same mistake, you placed your trust in him again, hoping that this time he would treat you as you deserved. 

“Okay.” You nodded, offering a weak smile. “We’ll try again.”

You yelped as he suddenly gathered you into a snug embrace, grinning widely from ear to ear. “I got you back,” he murmured into your ear.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you teased half-jokingly.

“Guys, get your free shit! Oh-” 

You and Leon quickly disentangled yourselves from each other as you saw Jill staring with her mouth hanging open. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No!” Both of you exclaimed in unison.

Jill rolled her eyes, her face etched with doubt, though she didn’t probe further. “Anyway, downstairs! First come, first served.” She jerked her thumb in the direction behind her, before trudging off to the next room.

“You wanna?” Leon gave you a knowing smile.

“Hell, sure, why not?” You shrugged, once again erupting in laughter with the boy you wanted to cuddle with and strangle at the same time.

So, that was how both of you ended up lying next to each other, strung out on a mattress facing the window. You knew the drill. Jill’s housemates were creative types whose generosity knew no bounds. House parties with them involved usually meant a certain supply of free drugs, which people could choose to engage in recreationally. You figured you were being very rock’n’roll by doing it, but sometimes you enjoyed how open they made you feel, like you could loosen up and forget about the things bothering you.

As usual, you and Leon had taken the same pills as before, both of you agreeing to take care of each other throughout the duration of the high. He held your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, as you giggled over a topic you had been discussing.

“Ready to watch the curtain breathing contest?” he chuckled.

“There.” You pointed in front of you, indicating that the shades were now moving on their own, like ripples in the tide.

“Atta girl.”

It felt nice like this, laying beside him. You could talk to him about anything in the world and he’d listen intently to you. That’s when you thought it was a good idea to make your confession. 

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” you gulped, your heart constricting though the urge to reveal your secret was stronger. “As in, more than a friend.”

He angled his head towards you, gazing at your expression with an affectionate smile. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Leon Scott Kennedy, asking me why-?” you snorted, clamping your free hand over your mouth as you struggled to hold in your cackles. As if he wasn’t aware he had a reputation for sleeping around with no strings attached. “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost.”

He tutted and sighed. “You wouldn’t have been. It’s different… with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re one of the few people who’d tell me exactly as it is, you care to listen,” he explained. “It just feels right, being with you, and… I trust you.”

You were reluctant to take what he had said at face value, after all both of you were tripping. As if sensing your hesitance, he professed, “I like you too, a lot.”

Still, a part of you denied it. “You’re just saying that.”

He groaned in vexation. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

Narrowing his eyes at you, he huffed in defeat, “Look, ask me again tomorrow when we’re sober, okay? Pretty sure I’ll say the exact same thing.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “You better not try anything right now though, ’cause I bite.” Baring your teeth, you snarled at him playfully.

“Uh huh.” He burst out laughing. “You’re kinda high off your face, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.” You winked.

“Alright, let’s try to get some sleep,” he grunted, shifting to his side as he extended his arms towards you like an invitation. “No funny business,” he promised.

You relented, nestling yourself into his arms with your back against his chest. He dipped his nose into your hair, breathing in the peace of the moment. Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, your bodies spooned together in perfect symmetry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The first rays of the morning light filtered in through the curtains, as you awoke to the collective chirps of the dawn chorus. You squinted, pressing a palm over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, as you stretched yourself out against Leon’s sleeping body and yawned groggily. He stirred a bit from your movement, but easily fell back into slumber, snoring deeply. You remembered everything you had disclosed to him the night before and it scared you. What if he didn’t feel the same way when he woke up? What if it had all been a mistake? How would you be able to look him in the eye now? You felt anxiety rising in your chest.

Stealthily, you lifted his arm off you, creeping out of the bed and making your escape before you had to face the consequences of your actions. Grabbing your stuff, you snuck out of the room, tiptoeing so no one noticed you exiting the front door of the house.

It was about an hour later when Leon woke up, confused to find you missing from the mattress with him. Though in your rush, you had accidentally left behind your notebook, which you carried around with you everywhere to jot down inspiration for song lyrics. Picking up the chestnut brown, leatherbound journal, curiosity got the better of him as he flipped it open to the page you had bookmarked.

As he skimmed across the words you had scribbled down in your off-beat, cursive handwriting, he gradually realized that they were the draft lyrics to the song you had been previously working on together with him, before the temporary break in your friendship. He re-read the text again to catch the meaning between the lines. It was then that it struck him, you had essentially composed a love letter from within, expressing the depth of your feelings and yearning for him. It made his heart ache that you had been keeping this from him the whole time and he had been blind to it all.

Tapping your name on his mobile screen, he called you right away, but it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. What were you afraid of? He thought he had been clear in how he felt about you last night, but it seemed like you had gone into hiding again. 

Showing up at your place directly after this may cause you to retreat even further, but he was determined to win you over somehow. A plan began to hatch in his mind, as he drove home with your book in the passenger seat. Despite his exhaustion from the party, he set out to work on the music for the lyrics you had written, spending the rest of the day and even pulling an all-nighter to finish it.

After about a dozen energy drinks and cups of coffee, he marched up unannounced to the door of your dormitory, where you shared a room with another final-year student from your class, rapping on it several times for good measure. Your roommate opened the door, but her expression gave everything away before she had the chance to concoct any sort of tall tale. She could never really keep a poker face.

Placing his arm against the door to prevent it from closing on him, he called out your name. You appeared in his view then timidly, mumbling to your roommate that you would handle it. She packed up a few things and left, giving you and Leon some privacy.

“Your book.” He passed it over to you, before setting his guitar case down by your bed. “Open it.”

You glanced briefly at him in mild bewilderment, but did as he asked. It flopped open to a page with a deep crease in the center, naturally showing how frequently that section had been revisited. You gasped when you saw a bunch of chord notes written below the lyrics you had penned down from earlier. Your complexion turned a light shade of scarlet upon realizing that Leon had discovered your innermost thoughts, but there was no awkwardness in his behavior towards you, he was calm and collected.

Unzipping the case, he took out his acoustic guitar and perched himself on the edge of your bed. Resting the instrument on his thigh, he grasped its neck, tilting it slightly as he strummed a couple of opening chords.

“I pieced together the melody for this. Maybe you can join in when you’re comfortable,” he suggested.

It seemed he had memorized the entire song by heart, as he didn’t need your notebook for guidance. His mellow, honeyed voice cascaded through the room as he serenaded you with the song both of you had crafted, albeit separately. Now, you were coming together to bring it to life.

Seating yourself next to him, you harmonized with his vocals, pouring the entirety of your emotions and every moment of longing you had built up within you into the music, until the final note trailed off. Throughout it all, Leon had observed you closely, captivated by the raw, unfiltered quality of your voice and the vulnerability you displayed in your delivery of the lyrics.

His gaze lowered from your eyes to your mouth, as he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, kissing you tenderly. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he caressed it, coaxing soft sighs and moans which he returned as you reciprocated the kiss. Panting as he came up for air, he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling every dip and groove, as if mesmerized by its outline and shape. He didn’t need to utter a single word for you to understand that his feelings for you mirrored those you had confessed in the song.

Closing the distance, he pressed into your lips again, this time more fervently, as the kisses grew in intensity. His nose nudged against yours and you felt his warm breath tickling your skin, as he grasped the back of your neck, taking you deeper, breathing every essence of you in. Clutching his shoulders, you parted your lips slightly as he licked along the entrance, allowing his tongue to meet yours, twirling around it as saliva coated your lips, forming a glistening string between the two of you when you pulled away.

Grazing his knuckles delicately across your cheek, he asked, “Do you believe me now?”

You smiled, claiming his lips with your own in response.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you performed the song live was at the festival, where thousands had gathered to watch the impressive lineup of bands. Chris and Claire had fallen in love with it when you and Leon had showed it to them, and were keen to expand the band’s range into something that delved into the territory of rock ballads.

All four of you wondered how it would be received by the audience, as it was rather different from the punk rock style your band was known for. Even so, you were psyched to finally showcase it to the public.

It was the song you ended with on your setlist, and the one which created such a poignant, special atmosphere, that it became a memory you would treasure forever. The hall fell into hushed anticipation as Leon plucked his guitar strings under the soft glow of the stage lights. Each note resonated deeply, minimalistic and stripped back, which added to the earnesty of the music.

Your voice opened the duet, intimate and haunting, as the melody unfolded like a story being told, rich with longing and a melancholic beauty that ached. The audience stood there entranced, as a soulful rhythm built up with the entry of the bass guitar and drums, adding another layer to the sound.

Leon moved towards you, sharing your mic as he sang his part, cementing a bond between you. Locking eyes with you, he pressed his forehead against yours, mingling sweat and tears as you both continued singing into the same mic, your heartfelt lyrics heavy with emotion. Some of the older people in the crowd sparked their lighters, while the younger ones whipped out their mobile phones, swaying them in time to the music, until everything was awash in a sea of flickering lights.

Your lips and Leon’s were barely touching as the last notes lingered in the air. His faint breath fanned across your mouth, as he swept his fingertips along your jawline, resting them under your chin. The space was thick with palpable tension, and your stomach fluttered just as it had the first time he had kissed you. Like a magnetic pull which he could not resist, he placed his lips over yours, kissing you again and again. It was as if the world had paused, just for the two of you. 

Singing this way no longer reminded you of punishment and shame, but rather of the connection you and Leon had. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he led you off-stage, past the phenomenal reaction of the crowd and the fist bumps shared between Chris and Claire.

Ada came around not only to congratulate him, but also to test the waters and seize the opportunity to flirt. Despite that, he held onto you tightly, maintaining a suitable distance from the woman he had previously been infatuated with, yet feeling nothing deeper compared to what he felt for you. It took him more than half a year, an explosive fallout and a few weeks of your absence to realize that. She smirked and shook her head, walking away as Wesker continued to ignore you.

Some things never change, yet some things had.

“How about some time alone?” he proposed. “Just us.”

Us. It was always meant to be about us.

You nuzzled your nose gently with his. “Yeah, just us.”

[storiesofsvu]

Communication Error

Alex Blake x reader warnings: mild language, hurt/comfort kinda, usual BAU type of situations and violence.

The BAU had been in San Antonio for nearly two weeks already, the team had been called in a little earlier than usual but the case was striking right from the start. You’d spent hours droning over case files, evidence, cold cases and every chance you seemed to get at the unsub he was always a step ahead of you. The final straw was when he broke pattern, kidnapping the daughter of his murder victims rather than leaving her at the scene.

Tensions were running high, press, locals and the upper brass all beating down on the BAU to figure things out quickly and safely. You’d been in close quarters all week, there was not a moment to be had to oneself as everyone was bunking with someone else and everyone was on edge. There had been far too little sleep, an overconsumption of caffeine and definitely not enough food.

It was safe to say everything about the situation was escalated.

It didn’t even matter that you happened to be working the case with your girlfriend, you and Alex had barely had a moment of peace and definitely not a moment of privacy since arriving and no one else on the team knew you were together. JJ and Garcia had been sharing a room up until a pipe burst in their bathroom on the first and now all four of you were crammed together in one dingy hotel room. You were ‘forced’ into sharing the same bed but your subconscious spent the entire time you managed to get sleep fighting itself in a reminder that you shouldn’t exactly be cuddling. Unable to properly communicate over the week lead to both of you being on edge and there was no relief of a little hand hold, a tender kiss pressed to the other’s temple in reassurance or soft ‘I love you’s’ in moments of need.

When you finally caught up with the unsub in a warehouse on the outskirts of town everyone was on high alert, vests on, guns at the ready and attempting to make a plan about what was going to go down. Garcia had found a back entrance into the warehouse, one that it seemed the unsub was unaware of and it was certain you would be going in through there to retain the element of surprise. Problem was it was only big enough for one person to finagle their way through.  

“Wilson!” The local swat team leader called out and your head shot up.

“Yes sir?”

“I’m givin’ you the lead with this, you comfortable doing that?”

“Yes sir, of course.” You glanced over to Hotch, watching as his jaw tensed ever so lightly before giving you a once over and a trusting nod.

“Are you sure about that?” Alex suddenly asked and your brow furrowed at her, unsure if she was directing your question to you, Hotch or swat.

“I have complete confidence Wilson can do it.” Hotch replied, “I’d expect everyone on the team to trust my judgment.”

“This unsub is convoluted,” Alex continued, “he twists things around, he’s incredibly hard to read, and according to the profile he’s not afraid to take anyone out to get away.”

“And she knows all that.” Aaron nodded toward you and you returned the gesture while swat continued to fully suit you up.

“I just think that maybe a more experienced member of the team should be going in.” Alex protested and this time your head shot up to hers, a mixture of hurt and offended drawn across your face.

“Excuse me?”

“This guy, he’s duplicitous, he’ll talk riddles around you to draw your attention away from what he’s doing to get the jump on you.”

“Oh, so you’re not just doubting my ability to do my job, now you’re calling me stupid.”

“I think it’s a bad idea.”

“And for every second we stand out here while you berate me we’re wasting time and losing the opportunity to save that girl. I’m suited up, I know what I’m doing and last time I checked I didn’t need your vote of confidence to do my job.”

You glanced towards Hotch who simply stood his ground, nodding to you once again before you turned back to swat to get your ear piece put in and were quickly guided around the building. There was only a beat of silence before Alex spoke up again.

“Hotch I really think this is a bad idea. She’s the newest to the team, she’s barely worked three full cases, there’s been more paperwork than unsubs—”

“Blake.” He cut in, voice stern, “you’re out of line. Wilson has almost four years of hostage negotiation with NYPD under her belt, not only does she have a very good understanding of what she’s doing, she’s the best out of all of us to go in there. I wouldn’t even put my own skills above hers today. So you can either head back to the cars, or you can join us in having your team member’s back.”

Alex took a deep breath, sucking down any and all responses she had but Hotch didn’t miss the way her nostrils flared, her eyes tense as she bit her lip and shut up. Instead her hands went back to her hips, one already stationed ready over her gun as she tried to control the way her heart was hammering in her chest. While she certainly hadn’t known about your specific role with NYPD and was a little less worried about you being in there alone, she still didn’t want you getting hurt. You’d been in deep with this one, relating a little too much to the kidnapped victim and she was worried about what you might do to get her free. Now all she could do was wait.

She honestly wasn’t sure if it was the way her blood was pumping so loudly in her ears, or if there really was that much static over her earpiece. She could hear your hushed voice crackling through every so often as you cleared the first couple of rooms, making sure to check in with your team, she faintly heard something else and by the way Morgan’s eyes shot toward the warehouse she was certain you’d found the unsub. This was the part she hated the most, she wanted to be in there with you, or at least in your ear, guiding you through what could very much help you talk this guy down if your own tactics didn’t seem to be working. It was driving her insane that none of them could hear what you were saying, it was clear you had adjusted your radio to attempt to keep the audio button pressed down, pinched between your belt and hip but it still kept cutting in and out.

If you had asked, she could have sworn they were standing outside of that goddamn building all night, the anxiety coursing through her body causing her muscles to tense, nearly aching by the time Reid’s head shot up.

“She’s coming out!”

In reality it had been just over forty minutes. But those forty minutes had been absolutely agonizing as she prayed for your safety while still trying to focus enough to stay sharp and do her job.

The door to the warehouse booted open and the unsub was the first to appear, cuffs on his wrists, hands on his head. You had one hand sturdy on his shoulder while the other one was being clutched by the girl on your side. Swat hustled in, quickly taking the guy down to the ground while they did a more thorough search before escorting him to the car. The team relaxed, the tension surging through them finally beginning to melt away as you glanced around the lot, beginning to lead the girl over to them.

Somehow, you heard it first and your ears picked up that it was coming from behind you, a shot fired from the roof of the warehouse. There was a cacophony of yelling, screams and very sudden nearly panicked rush of movement. All you could think of was making sure that the girl made it out in one piece, shoving her in front of you as you nearly hit the ground, enveloping her in your embrace.

“GO!” Hotch’s yell was barely audible over your ringing ears, “Morgan take the back.”

Gusts of air raced passed either side of you and a rock must’ve been kicked up, your arm began to sting, pain beginning to prickle through your body. You heard another couple of shots ring through the night air and wrapped tighter around the girl.

“He’s running.” Alex’s voice was suddenly at your side, her hand gently resting on your shoulder and you were able to relax, your hand still tightly clutched in the girl’s.

“Then go!” You urged her, waving in the proper direction.

“You’re hit. I’m not going anywhere.” She insisted and the pain in your arm suddenly increased by a tenfold.

“I’m fine!” You assured her, glancing down to see the tear in your shirt, looking to the ground in front of you, you spotted the bullet, still in one piece and nearly as clean as it had come out of the gun.

“No you’re not. You’re bleeding.” Alex’s fingers delicately tugged at the fabric of your sleeve trying to get a better look at it.

“It’s barely a scrape! Go help the team.”

“I don’t care!” She nearly snapped back and when you finally looked up and caught her gaze there was a misting of tears in her eyes, “you are what’s important to me right now.”

“Okay.” You nodded softly, standing to your full height and scooping up the girl with your non injured side to carry on your hip over to the medics.

Alex couldn’t help herself, chewing on her fingernail as the paramedic urged you into the back of the ambulance for better lighting. She could feel her leg shaking and finally succumbed to the pressure, beginning to pace, her feet kicking at the gravel a welcomed distraction until the medic jumped down from the bus. Her head shot up, catching the moment you dropped down to sitting on the back of the rig, an orange juice in your non injured hand.

“You okay?” She asked timidly, approaching you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, gesturing toward the bandage on your arm, “just a graze, no stitches necessary.”

“Oh thank god.” She let out a huge breath, the relief flooding through her body all at once so intensely she had to drop down beside you and you were quick to catch her trembling hand in yours.

“Alex… I’m fine. We’re both fine. We’ve both seen and handled worse.”

She made a meek noise, avoiding your gaze as her fingers tapped a rhythm on her thigh and against your palm. A brief silence over took the back of the rig while she calmed herself and made an attempt at sorting her thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” She finally spoke, “I was out of line.” She risked a glance up at you, “please know that I have never and will never doubt your abilities, you’re incredible at what you do. I was just scared. I guess… I guess I was putting personal thoughts above professional ones, and I had no idea about you being a hostage negotiator.”

“It never came up.” You shrugged, “and I shouldn’t have snapped back either.” You smiled softly, squeezing at her hand, “it’s been such a long week, we’re all exhausted. And I know that’s no excuse…”

“Still a contributing factor.” She finally cracked a small smile and you laughed softly, leaning in to leave a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“How did two people with careers built on clear and concise communication skills end up sucking at it when it comes to outside of work?” You asked with a laugh, pulling one from Alex.

“I don’t know.” She softly squeezed your hand, “it’s something to work on.” Her hand wrapped around you, pulling your head to her so she could leave a tender kiss on your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The sound of a boot on gravel broke through your little happy moment and both of your heads shot up to find Hotch standing in front of you, a brow raised in your direction.

“If you’d like you can keep pretending the entire team didn’t already know, but in the future I’d hope it doesn’t affect any of our cases.”

“Yes sir.”

“Sorry sir.”

“And I expect that paperwork on my desk by the time we land.” He eyed you for a moment before his lips split into a small smile, “good work today Wilson. I’m glad you have someone like Blake to have your back, even if she does get a bit pushy at times.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst from your mouth as Alex let out a scoff, Hotch turning away with a gleam in his eye.  

_____________

@svulife-rl rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @happenstnces @whiteberryx @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @leftoverenvy @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar @h-doodles @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @s1ut4nat @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @ara-a-bird @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @moonlightjxuregui @gamma-rae-bursts

[simpforchuchu]

Hate me till you love me | Shoji Sameoka x TodorokiFaction!reader

Summary: Reader was with Tsuji and Shibaman when Ebara attacked them. And after that incident she comes face to face with Shoji Sameoka.

a/n: Hi! I love Enemies to lovers fics and wanted to write one. And the best option for that was SAMEOKA 😍 I love him dhejdje If you like it, I’m planning to write a second part ofc🙏🏻🌸💕

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: fights, blood, swearing, hatred

The young girl was laughing at the jokes and random things she heard on the phone. She would see her friends again tomorrow, but it felt good to hear about their stupidity after school too. They made her feel that she was not alone in the cold and dark streets leading to her home.

Y/n could hear Tsuji's fake fight with Shibaman as Shibaman talked about how disappointing Tsuji's attempt to talk to the girls had been.

The smile on her face was wiped off by a fight she saw in the distance and was replaced by a serious frown.

“Hey, y/n? Are you there ?"

With Shibaman's voice coming from the phone, Y/n realized that she had not said anything for a while and was watching the incident. She nodded but understood that they would not see and spoke.

“Guys, I'll call you later, byee!”

Before the duo on the other end of the phone could understand anything, y/n moved a little further and hid behind a wall. Actually, she wanted to go home without getting into any trouble, but when she saw that the group was crowded and had weapons, she could not resist the adrenaline in her veins.

Y/n was like this. She wasn't reckless, she always had a plan. But she was scolded many times by Todoroki for not getting out of trouble.

She took a deep breath, held her phone tightly and approached the people fighting with quick steps. She felt sorry for the person who was kicked on the ground and beaten with pipes; so many people attacking one person was nothing but cowardice and she was quite angry.

“Hello, police? Yes, yes there is a problem. A large group of people on the street are beating a young man with pipes. Please send a team as soon as possible, thank you.”

When she walked over loudly, she was sure everyone heard her. She didn't know those who turned to her with pipes in their hands, but judging by their looks, they knew her.

A boy from the crowd, who she thought was the leader, walked towards her and held a pipe to her face.

“This is a wrong time to be a hero, y/n-chan.”

Y/n looked at the boy who was staring at her with a disgusting grin and smiled. Without saying anything, she pushed the boy in front of her with a hard kick and knocked him to the ground. When the people around looked at her with anger, they seemed to have forgotten the boy on the ground.

“You little bitch! Why are you standing there, idiots!? Catch her!”

Y/n grinned and got into position. She took the pipe from the hand of one of those who attacked her with a pipe and defended herself with it for a while. While they were fighting dirty, she knew very well that she would not get out of this fight with her punches.

The boys and y/n looked at each other as soon as sirens were heard in the distance. As the gang ran away, not wanting to deal with the police, y/n threw the pipe in her hand aside and approached the boy on the ground with a smile.

“Cowards! Okay, buddy. You need to stand up, I'm not big enough to carry you."

Y/n looked at the tall boy on the ground. He was lying face down. After exerting himself a little, he sat down and tried to stand up.

“Okay, hold my hand. The police are about to come, we have to go."

The young boy raised his head and looked at the hand extended to him. When Y/n locked eyes with him, she immediately realized who he was despite his blood covered face.

“Sameoka…” the young girl whispered in surprise while Shoji looked at her with a nervous expression. Y/n didn't know if that statement was because he was hurting or because of their terrible past. But when she saw him, she couldn't stop the hatred that accumulated inside her from reflecting on her face.

When the sirens were heard again, the young girl realized that they were coming very close this time. When she waved her hand harshly in front of the young boy's face, Shoji grabbed the young girl's hand and stood up from the ground. He was expecting a punch from her, but nothing happened as he expected. On the contrary, y/n grabbed his wrist tightly, dragged him after her and started running.

Even though Shoji was injured, he did not cause any difficulty. He followed her, and when they hid behind a wall, he looked at the hand still holding his wrist. Y/n was checking around without even realizing it.

After making sure that no one was coming for a while, the young girl turned to Shoji. When she realized she was still holding the young boy's wrist, she quickly removed her hand.

They took a breath for a while. Neither of them said anything. y/n was about to leave without saying anything when Shoji wiped the sweat and blood from his face on his sleeve.

The young boy spoke in a low voice.

"Thank you. You saved-"

“Don't.” Shoji was startled by the young girl's cold voice. “Don't thank me. If I had known it was you, I would never have helped.”

Y/n was furious. But she didn't know if it was for him or for herself.

Shoji remained silent for a while at the young girl's cold voice. He shook his head slowly.

“You're right y/n, but-“

“There's no buts.” exclaimed the young girl. “If I had known it was you, I would never have helped. Do you know why, Sameoka?”The young boy swallowed. “I remember well the scream I screamed that day. I remember my friends' wounded faces and their bodies lying on the ground. I remember very well how I cleaned their wounds.”

Shoji never expected that one look would pierce him like a bullet. There seemed to be a fire burning in the young girl's eyes.

The young boy nodded slowly and wanted to apologize, but y/n responded with a sarcastic smile.

“Do you think an apology can fix everything?”

"Of course no. But I'm sorry, I know we were wrong."

The young girl thought he was making fun of her. As if possible, she moved a little closer to the young boy.

“You tried to play the good person by helping me that day. I know very well that you are not a good person, Sameoka. The fact that I wasn't seriously injured doesn't change anything-"

Shoji replied angrily.

“I wasn't pretending, y/n. I… I was sincere. Besides, you make it sound like we're not both delinquents. Why do you think you're better than me? You're just like me. You fight, too."

“This wasn't a fight, Sameoka, this was an attack. And a treacherous attack…. and also -"

Y/n looked hatefully into the young boy's eyes and spoke in a colder and sharper tone than before.

“Yes, I may not be a good person. But I'm definitely no worse than you. So go to hell, Sameoka. I don't want your thanks or apology. Because I will never forgive you. Go to hell, I'll be right after you.”

Y/n said angrily before storming off and Shoji let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding for a while. He was quite annoyed. And he was sure that being beaten didn't bother him as much as these words...

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @ninamarie1994 @thatpoindexterpixy @koala-yuna @star2fishmeg

[burstanddecay]

petals in a storm

And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all.

Pairing: Benny Miller x (OC) F!Reader Summary: Benny tries to tell you something by sharing a ritual that's a daily occurance for him. If that doesn't work, he's got another trick up his sleeve. Wordcount: 3.2K Contains/Warning: Angst, (passive) suicide ideations, existential dread/crisis talk, mental health issues. A/N: I'm not a boxer, nor am I into MMA. I tried to do as much research as was needed, but things might've slipped through the cracks or been stretched to fit the narrative. Part three of Cold Is The Night

The fluorescent lights make a slight humming noise as they flicker to life, speckles of dust floating through the air as Benny holds the door open for you. You cautiously enter, hesitant as you wait for him to take the lead, not sure what to make of the situation or what to do with yourself.

“C’mon,” he gently says as he places a hand in the middle of your back, putting pressure there as he guides you forward. “We gotta grab some stuff, and I’m gonna find you a shirt. You’ll get hot in the sweater.”

You look down at the sweater you’re wearing, at your jeans and the boots, shuffling your feet across the vinyl floor. He sees you look and gives a soft smile.

“The jeans are fine for what we’re gonna do. We’ll take off our shoes, it’s better to feel the floor.”

His voice is firm, not giving you any room for questions or protests, but is kind beneath it. You haven’t heard him use it before, but immediately know where to place it: he started teaching a self defence class for women a while ago. A big shift from his usual crowd of personal training and beating the lights out of fully grown men, but it seems to suit him, the way he lights up when he talks about it speaking volumes.

His hand disappears from your back as he walks past you, around a corner, disappearing out of sight. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to follow or not, so you take two small steps forward, looking around you as you do.

You’ve heard him talk about this place before, but for some reason you never had a reason to be here. He never explicitly stated he didn’t want you here, it just never happened, causing a wave of guilt to crash against you as you take in your surroundings.

“I just realised you’ve never been here before,” he calls out, his voice somewhat muffled by distance and faint rummaging. “Which y’know. Kinda weird.” His voice becomes clearer as he turns back around the corner, a shirt in his hands. “Since you’ve been in most places in my life. Here.”

You take the shirt from his hands, immediately recognising it when you catch a glimpse of the print on the front. You’ve seen him wear it before—just not in a while. He mostly stopped wearing it after he came back from South America, favouring other shirts and button ups over this one.

He rarely speaks of the trip. None of them do, the haunted looks and lack of Tom in their midst speaking volumes. It’s gotten better over time, but time heals all wounds is a fucking lie. You know that, Benny knows that, Will, Frankie, Santiago all know that.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Time is a trickster god and you better pray it’s on your side during your lifetime.

“Thank you,” you say. “I was just thinking the same, actually.”

 “Just need to grab some other stuff and I’ll show you where we’re going. Put the shirt on, I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and disappears around a corner, leaving you alone with the shirt in your hands. You carefully place it on a nearby table, peeling your sweater off before pulling the shirt over your head. It’s littered with holes along the hemline, the fabric softened and faded by time. The corners of your mouth tick up as you gently run your hands over the fabric, chest full of something you can’t quite place.

“Looking good,” Benny pipes up behind you. “That shirt always looked better on you than it ever did on me.”

You roll your eyes at the statement. It’s a very Benny thing to throw compliments around: it comes as naturally as breathing to him, something you envy at times. You turn around to face him, finding him leaned against a support beam, arms crossed as he watches you with a half smile.

“C’mon. I’ll show you around another time.” He jerks his head to the side, to a room just outside your view. “We’ve got stuff to do.”   

Anxiety gnaws at you as you follow him across the room, through the door he holds open for you. You look around as you enter, taking in the wall-to-wall mirrors on one side, the wooden bar stretching across its length, the loose bits of equipment placed in various nooks and corners.

“This used to be a ballet studio,” Benny explains from behind you, closing the door behind him and pulling his boots off. “They moved into a bigger space, so we put the mats down, but left the mirrors.” He shifts his weight on his socked feet, looking at you in the mirror. He seems anxious, which in turn makes you anxious. A part of you revels in the sensation: where most feelings no longer really seem to exist, this is something you can feel.

“C’mere,” he says, lowering himself into a kneeling position, patting the mat in front of him. “Come sit with me.”

You take a breath, kicking your boots off and leaving them next to Benny’s before sinking down to the floor in front of him.

It’s intimate in a way that’s both familiar and unfamiliar: it’s not like you haven’t been this close to him before, but at the same time, you really haven’t.

You haven’t let him close in ways that mattered.

“We said five minutes at a time,” he says. “We’ve made it through…” he moves his hand where it rests on his knee, looking at the watch on his left wrist. “At least ten of those since we left the bar.”

You want to tell him it’s easier to make it through those minutes when you’re not alone, when there’s other people’s voices to fill the growing void, other people’s joy, giddiness, frustrations. You want to say it feels as if something is flooding your bloodstream and slowly numbing your senses, leaving you to navigate the world by depending on others.

You want to say that the only thing making you feel even slightly alive is him, but you can’t do that to him. You can’t burden him with that, with keeping another person upright.

He fought his battles. The mental ones, the physical ones and everything in between: he already fought his war.

He doesn’t deserve to fight someone else’s, too. Not again.

So, you say nothing.

Instead, you pick at your cuticles, ignoring the sting as you pull at the already raw skin with your fingernails.

“So,” Benny starts, producing a handful of fabric from his pocket, letting it slide through his hands. “Normally when you box, you wrap your hands.” He reaches out, holding an upturned palm stretched out in front you. “Or you wear gloves, but I prefer wrapping. May I?”

You nod silently and place your hand in his, the callouses on his palm oddly comforting against your soft skin. He turns your hand, so that your palm faces up, the movement gentle, as if he’d break something if he wasn’t careful enough.

“Our hands are made up of dozens of tiny bones, essentially just held together by some flesh and tendons,” he continues, placing the strap in your palm before he starts wrapping it around your hand. “And sure, you can just throw a punch, but it puts a lot of stress on those bones. When you don’t know better, you’d think that the wrapping is there to protect your knuckles, right? Because that’s what we see in media. Bloody knuckles, held up in front of our faces.”

“I can do this all day,” you mumble under your breath, the imagine of pre-serum Steve Rogers immediately jumping to mind.

“Right,” he smiles. “The truth is, we have to protect our hands by allowing the impact of that punch to be better distributed,” he explains, wrapping the fabric back and forth between your fingers, essentially creating a glove out of a single strap of fabric. “That single punch puts a lot of stress on just the top bones, the ones that stick out the most,” his fingers lightly tap your knuckles. “Which we don’t want. That causes tears in the bone at the first punch, if you throw it hard enough.”

His touch is featherlight as he continuous to wrap the fabric around your hand, weaving it through your fingers with ease. It goes automatically, as if it’s as easy as brushing your teeth. You suppose it is, to him. It’s something he does most days, after all.

He finishes up the first hand and opens and closes his fingers as a way of saying to hand over your other hand, which you wordlessly do.

You know better than to just see this as wrapping your hands. You know damn well what he’s trying to say.

“We don’t just want to protect the knuckles, we want to protect the full hand, all those little bones. We want to make sure we don’t wreck ourselves trying to come out on top. So instead, we make sure there is something keeping those loose things tightly together and allow them to weather the circumstances they’re being put through. Because when the knuckles are bloody, when that surface is cracked, you already know you’ve done damage that beyond a quick fix. When in reality, it’s… mostly preventable.”

He finishes wrapping your second hand, and motions for your other hand, turning both of them back and forth to check his work.

“Do you do this every game?” you ask softly, admiring how quick and efficient he was with something that you would’ve redone at least three times.

He nods in reply. “Every game, most practises.”

“But…” you start, letting the sentence die off when you don’t know how to word your thoughts.

“But?” he asks, letting go of your hands.

“Isn’t a thing that by continuously breaking the bone, you strengthen it?”

He lets out a low sigh, leaning back on his heels. “Well, no. You just… stop feeling it eventually. There’s debates of whether or not breaking bones repeatedly improves bone density, but I think it’s bullshit, personally.” He smirks, the first time since leaving the bar that there isn’t a hint of sadness woven into his features.

The sight of it breaks your heart, echoing the sentiment that seems to engrain itself deeper and deeper into your heart with each passing moment: Ben Miller doesn’t deserve your mess.

“I don’t think we should have to continuously break ourselves to come out better in the end.”

And there it is. Laid out in front you, word for word. He doesn’t look at you, instead leaving the words to float in the air as he wraps his own hands, the movement much faster and less deliberate.

He doesn’t push, not for an answer, not for a reaction, but instead finished up his own wraps and shifts in his position.

“Copy me.”

You don’t question him, not sure if you’re afraid of what will follow if you do or if you just don’t have the mental capacity to do so. He continues to stretch, the movements reminiscent of yoga poses, almost cat-like in their fluidity.

The silence between you is neither here nor there, and the minutes pass evenly as your muscles protest slightly at the stretches they’re being exposed to. Across from you, Benny seems to be wrapping up the warm-up, and he returns to his initial position, sat on his knees, before rising completely off the ground and reaching his hand out towards you.

You take it and let him pull you off the ground, resisting the urge to dust down your jeans, and shift on your feet as you wait for him to make the next move. This is his territory: you’re not sure what’s expected of you.

The answer catches you off guard.

“Hit me.”

“Wha— I… No?” you frown, eyeing the blond stood a mere two steps away from you. The light in this room is bright and unkind, the kind that reminds you of frustrated tears over jeans that wouldn’t come up over your thighs even though they’re a size bigger than you’d normally wear. You’ve avoiding looking at the mirrors because of it, but looking at Benny, it highlights all the things that burrowed their way into your heart. The golden hue of his hair, the way his moustache never quite fills in above his cupid’s bow, the fact that his lashes are two tints darker than his hair.

“C’mon,” he urges. He holds up one hand, tapping it with the other. “Right there. With all you’ve got.”

“I’m not going to hit you!” you whisper-shout in return, as if it was the most outrageous thing he could’ve suggested. It was, in a way. You just expected a punching bag. The unalive, hanging-from-the-ceiling-on-a-chain kind. Not a living, breathing one.

He cracks a smile, and lowers his hands, taking a step forward and grabbing your wrists. You eye him with suspicion but let him move your arms until they’re in the position he wanted them. Elbows tucked to your sides, knuckles facing the sky. His hands move to your hips, and you fight the kneejerk reaction of shying away from his hands there, instead biting your cheek as he puts pressure to get you to move.

It takes him a few seconds to position you, but he seems content when he takes a step back.

“Thumbs go over your knuckles, never tucked inside.”

“I know. I’m—” You bite back the I’m not stupid that’s threatening to come out, not wanting to be rude. “I know,” you repeat quietly.

“Good. Now hit me.”

You drop your hands. “I’m not going to hit you!”

“Hit me.”

“No.”

“Hit me.”

Your jaw ticks as you meet his unfaltering gaze. “I don’t want to hit you.”

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Benny.”

“Why not? It’s not like I don’t get punched on a weekly basis.”

“Because I don’t want to.” Hurt you, your brain finishes. Too bad it’s too late for that.  

“You won’t.”

You stiffen. Did you say that out loud?

“You won’t say it, but I know you’re thinking it. You won’t hurt me.”

You feel the corners of your mouth turn downwards, in a way that got you the comparison to Florence Pugh more than once already. You hate it when that happens: not so much the comparison, but rather what followed when you actually felt that movement on your face when it wasn’t on purpose. It meant the stinging feeling in your nose wasn’t far off, the tightening of your jaw and wet feeling of tears threatening to fall lurking not far behind it.

At that point, it takes a mild breeze for the dam to fully burst.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“No.” The word comes out tight, already a brisk sound on its own but now amplified by the fight going on in your head. You stagger a step backwards, your chest rising and falling faster than it should. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“Look at me.”

You feverishly shake your head, avoiding his gaze at all costs as you roughly paw at your face, getting rid of the tears that made their way down without your permission.

“Peach, look at me.”

You take another step back backwards, putting distance between yourself and Benny, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. It ends up rattling through your chest, shaky in a way that reminds you of how it felt to cry when you were a kid.

You vaguely hear him call your name again, but it gets drowned out by the feeling crowding your chest. You both feel infinitely small and like you could burst out of your skin at the same time.

“Maisie.”

It’s like your struck by lightning, tearstained eyes immediately snapping to the man stood a few feet away.

He hasn’t called you by your actual name in years. Not even in letters you exchanged when he was deployed, or when he introduced you to Santi, Frankie, or even Will. Not even the one year he took you home to celebrate Christmas with his family.

He hasn’t used your name, your actual name in at least seven years, and by doing so, it feels like he shattered the windows, blew straight through the walls you put up.

By using your name, he took away the one barrier you had managed to maintain when everything else crumbled apart around you.

As you’re bolted to the floor, he closes the distance between you, his movements slow and deliberate as if you’re a deer he’s trying not to startle.

“I know,” he says, the calluses on his palm rough against your cheek as he holds your head between his hands, forcing you to look at him. “I know you think this is yours to bear, but I am here.” It comes out fierce, heated without any anger behind it. “I am here, and I want to carry it with you.”

You open your mouth to protest, shaking your head as much as his grip allows it, but he gives a gentle squeeze.

“I have the space to carry some of that burden, and I will do anything, and I mean anything, so you won’t buckle under it.” His jaw is tense and his eyes glisten in the fluorescent light. “Anything.”

“I can’t ask that,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

“You’re not asking. And even if you were, I’d—I’d run into a fucking burning building. I’d run through a wildfire, I would sit with you through the night, I would hold you when it all becomes too much. I’d fight your inner demons with my bare fucking hands, I just need you to let me.”

For a moment, just a moment, time stops.

“Please.”

The word comes out broken, small, as if this was the most pain he has ever been exposed to.

You don’t have it in you to fight it anymore. It tumbles out before you can stop yourself.

“I’m not scared of dying, and that scares me so much I don’t know how to breathe some days. It just seems like an option that’s there, like getting a coffee or reading a book, and it terrifies me. There are days that’s all I feel like is waiting in the future, but I can’t put you through that, because I love you. I can’t make you give a eulogy at yet another funeral, and the reason why is wholly selfish, too, because I love you, and I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I know you don’t—”

“You don’t get to decide for me.”

You open and close your mouth, panic flooding your system as you realise what you just said.

“You’re right. I don’t want to bury you, I don’t want to give a eulogy at your funeral. I don’t want to do those things, because I want to live a life with you. I don’t want that to end before it even got a chance to start. So for the love of fucking god, Maisie, let me hold it. Let me carry that burden with you.”

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 16b

*Warning Adult Content*

Damn You, Moon Goddess - Part 1 - Aaron 

After breakfast, we all set out to the location of the portal. It was in a park. Soon, we were entering the park and walking along a dirt path. Aubrey kept looking around with a wide smile, probably enjoying the connection to the new plants.He was in between Evander and I, his hands connected to ours as we walked down the path. I was glad they were so quick to forgive me. I didn't want to do anything to hurt my mates. 

‘And hiding the truth from them isn't hurting them?’ 

I ignored the whisper in my head. I wasn't ready to tell them. I was allowed to wait until I was more comfortable and ready to tell them.

"Where is the portal?" I asked Evander, glancing around.

"Rin just told me it was here. They never said anything about where in particular, or even what it would look like."

"It's over there," Aubrey suddenly piped up, pointing off into some trees.

"How do you know that?" Erin asked from nearby.

"The flowers told me," he answered simply.

"Good enough for me," I mumbled and pulled my mates along into the trees.

The rest of the group followed and Erin walked faster to be in the front. Of course, he'd be in the front. Something about needing to protect us if there was danger, no doubt. Idiot. We walked for a minute or so until we came across a weird-looking tree. It was weird because it was too perfect. It looked almost fake. There was an air of magic around it, too. I could feel it rolling off the tree in waves.

"This is it," I said aloud.

"What do we do now?" Aubrey asked.

"Go inside?"

I let go of his hand to cautiously step forward but Erin stopped me with an arm across my chest. 

"Let me go first," he said.

"Stop trying to play the valiant hero," I said.

"I'm not," he protested. 

"I just want to go first."

With a roll of my eyes, I stepped back for him. He walked to the tree and stood in front of it. Slowly, he tried placing a hand on the tree trunk. The magic rippled and his hand went straight through what looked like thin air. Well, now we know this is a portal to something at least. Erin glanced at us and offered a smile before stepping inside. We all filed in after him and my heart began beating faster. This was exciting. I never thought I'd ever be going into the dragon realm or any other realm for that matter. 

What would greet us on the other side? What would we see? Experience? Feel? When we stepped through, we were greeted with another forest but there was a distinct stone pathway leading to the spot where the portal was. I briefly wondered if any humans had wandered in here before as we all glanced around but pushed the thought away when we all heard a screech. My head snapped up to the sky and I gasped when I saw that it was clear blue, not red like in the dreamscape. 

‘Weird.’ 

However, my chest tightened when I saw the large silhouette of a dragon flying by. No... flying down towards us. As it got closer and closer, I found myself reaching out for Aubrey and Evander's hands to squeeze. They squeezed back as our group watched in horrified awe when the dragon landed in front of us with a huff. It was beautiful in a terrifying sort of way. 

Colored hues of green and brown, their scales resembled a grove of trees and a pair of branchlike antlers sat atop its head. It glared at us with bright green eyes slit like snakes' eyes. The dragon shifted right before us. Immediately, they growled. 

"Who are you? Why have you entered our realm?"

I noticed the accent. 

It was warm and very lilted. 

Was that what all dragons sounded like? 

"We're here in search of a dragon, Kamihara Yuki," I spoke up, trying to seem brave.

"Kamihara Yuki? What business do you have with her?" they demanded with a glare.

"We were sent here by a kitsune. He had a vision of a person who told us to contact her," I tried to explain.

They continued to stare at us, even locking eyes with me at one point while I spoke. They suddenly straightened up, the glare gone. 

"Follow me."

I glanced at the rest of our group and followed after the dragon. They reached into a tree hollow and pulled out a green robe and wrapped it around their body. Now that I realized they had been naked, being a shifter makes you unaware of that fact sometimes, I frowned curiously. They had a fairly sized chest but they also had a... ahem, traditionally male appendage. At least, it looked like they did. My head snapped around to see if anyone else noticed and was just as confused as I was.

"I am Minori, the guardian of this portal. Refer to me however you wish. I know your realm likes to focus intensely on pronouns," they spoke as we walked.

We all remained silent. What could we say to that? Well, almost all of us remained silent. 

"I'm Erin, future Alpha of the Riverside Pack. It's nice to meet you, Minori."

I watched them ahead of us, Erin trying to strike up a conversation and Minori answering curtly. I rolled my eyes at Erin's stupidity, then focused back in on their backs.I stopped in my tracks, looking in shock at his string. It was pointing in a direction that did not lead back to the portal. Not like the other strings of our fellow group members did. 

‘Great Goddess above, you are such a bitch. I hate you.’

Erin's mate was here. In the dragon realm. And being the idiot I was, Erin rubbed off on me, I was already creating a plan to help him out.

‘Don't do it, dumbass. You're not supposed to interfere with fate, remember?’ 

Ugh, the urge to step in and tell him was insane. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been. He deserved a happy ending and I was the only person who could lead him to it.

‘Damn it.’

"Aaron? What's wrong?" Aubrey asked from beside me.

"Oh, uh, nothing," I said with an awkward chuckle.

"You saw something, didn't you?" Evander asked quietly.

"Yes," I admitted. 

"Erin's mate is in this realm and I want to help him find them."

Evander looked down at me with raised eyebrows. 

"Really? But, wouldn't that interfere with his fated bond?"

"Yes but he's my best friend. I want him to be happy."

We continued to walk but I fought the urge to run to Erin and drag him to the end of his string. A frown made its way onto my face. He didn't even have a clue how close he was.

"He will be. You just have to let fate guide him," Aubrey said, offering a gentle smile. 

"It will work out, just like it did for all of us."

‘They're right. I can't step in no matter how much I want to. Just like with Wren and Joshua.’

"We're here," Minori suddenly called.

I looked up the pathway to find a small cottage in the middle of the forest. It was surrounded by beautiful plants and even a babbling brook nearby. It was pretty and all... but how the hell did we find Kamihara Yuki so quickly? 

"Where is here?" I asked just in case.

Minori glanced at me before walking up to the door. 

"Yuki's home."

[hakkais-hoe]

hi hi hi!! I have a request!! I feel like I rarely see tokyo revengers hc’s where the reader isn’t submissive and sweet and is actually kinda aggressive and dominant and lowkey a little bit scary??? Like unpredictable might make them beg for attention and love or might put them in the hospital nobody rly knows 👀 I’m thinking bonten?? Maybe others?? Idk u pick hehehe

TR Boys with an aggressive s/o

Oml yessss I agree there’s never enough dominant reader stuff!!

Hope this is okay :)

You have no idea how fast I went to my notes

This is a long one can’t lie n it was written at 2 in the morning so be warned

Warnings: drug mention, murder, blood, little bit of a graphic description, sexual reference, light emotional abuse/manipulation maybe, lots of swearing from reader.

18+ themes.

Bonten: Mikey, Haitanis, Kakucho, Koko, Sanzu.

Mikey-

* Ngl I hc that you and Mikey met after you picked a fight with Sanzu

* Like he tried to shoot you n you smacked him round the head with the first heavy object you could find

* Mans out cold

* But Mikey saw it happen, ignored his passed out second in command

* Walks over to you n straight up says he wants you

* “Are you deluded you fuckin’ creep?”

* You’re having none of his bullshit getting ready to beat his arse with the object too

* He’s hooked ngl

* He decides to play it off as if he wants you to join Bonten not to be his s/o

* You’re still throwing curses at him n sneering at his offer

* He tells you that you have 2 days to decided nd to meet him back at the place you laid sanzu out

* Cut to 2 days later when he shows up to the area only to see you stood over one bloody body and another one with a lead pipe about to hit his head

* Safe to say you agree as long as you get to do what you want

* Mikey takes you to meet the Bonten executives

* Ran n Rin think you’re “the bees knees” as Ran said cue Rin wanting to unalive him

* Koko thinks you need a therapist

* You scare Mochi he’s like ‘wtf is this demon flinging a knife around for’

* Kaku wants you as far away as possible from him at all times also thinks you’re gonna kill his boss eventually

* Sanzu wants to kill you 🥰

* Takeomi is indifferent as always

* Takes you a good few months to warm up to any of them Koko being the first then the Haitanis

* Mikey practically begs for attention 23/7 (gotta have that extra hour for a snack break ofc)

* He’ll come and stand in your office door until you look at him, which ofc takes a long time for both of you

* He will never make physical contact though

* You eventually get sick of the strange game you’re playing and take matters into your own hands

* You walk into his office one night when you know Sanzu is out

* Mikeys pretending to look through some documents but is actually just swivelling his chair around

* When you walk towards him his eyes track every move you make

* You grab the back of his chair and twist it towards you, leaning over him you grab his chin to angel it up and sneer down at him

* “Did you want some fucking attention? That why you keep bothering me every day? Eh you want my attention, pretty boy?”

* Even depressed mikey.exe has stopped working

* Ghosting your hand down to grip his neck you climb into his lap

* Settling in you lean towards his ear and whisper

* “Better make it worth my effort pretty boy, or I’ll put you in a casket <3”

Ran-

* This man is obsessed form the get-go

* 100% asks you to step on him at some point

* Meets you through a business that the Haitanis own

* He first sees you looking all Smiley a outside a club until some guys hit on you and your friends

* Cue two seconds later when your smile drops and so does one of them men

* He then witnesses the most beautiful person he’s ever seen curb stomp a man until blood is gushing out of his nose and eyebrow

* Proceeds to have you and your friends ushered into the club and you then escorted to a private room where he walks in two minutes later

* You’re sat very relaxed yet your face shows you’re disgust and anger

* Arms crossed tightly over your chest you give him a once over and tsk at his smirk

* “Wipe that look of your face you sack of shit, I ain’t afraid of Bonten or your lanky ass.”

* He’s shocked that you know who he’s with and it shows on his face

* “Are you dumb or something? You’ve got the pissing tattoo right slap bang on the front of your neck like a goddamn calling card. You look like a twat.”

* It’s official he’s in love

* Tells you that he’s sorted everything out and the police won’t be coming for you

* You don’t seem to care remotely tho and don’t even thank him for his effort

* You get up and go to leave but the tall Haitani steps in the way

* “I want you to work for me.”

* You laugh in his face

* Then suddenly he’s eye level with you, his eyes blown wide from the force of your yank on his tie

* “I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit. Who said you could get involved in my business I don’t give two fucks what the cops wanna do let em come.”

* Unlike Mikey he doesn’t give you time to decide he just shows up at bothers you for a week after

* You proceed to put him in hospital with a stab wound to the abdomen

* Kudos to the guy tho it just makes him want you more

* He doesn’t beg for attention he demands it

* I mean you did stab him

* He wears down your defences after a few months and manages to get your gremlin ass to go on a date with him

* Where you also threaten to beat the waiter with a chair if he doesn’t get Ran some goddamn sauce for his steak

* “Excuse me, I’m going to marry you ya know, doll?”

* “Tf you are you lanky ass cockroach”

* You terrify Rindo when he meets you for the first time

Rindo-

* Opposite of his big brother

* He thinks you’re a bitch

* Wants nothing to do with you when Mikey and Sanzu introduce you as a new member

* Watches you one two many times beat the ever loving crap out of fully grown men and enjoy it

* Sees when you put Sanzu in hospital with a bullet wound when he pops a pill in your drink

* Starts getting feelings the first time he sees you smile at a kitten though

* Catches himself smiling when you throw a knife at his brothers head (you missed thank god)

* Falls in love when he feels your backs hit together during a fight where you’re both outnumbered by a mile

* He remembers the first time he felt scared of you like it was yesterday

* You’d got so caught up in a fight and ended up beating two men to death

* He had gone to pull you off a third and you’d pinned him down ready to rain blow after blow down

* You got two hits in before Kaku tackled you off him

* Took you about 5 minutes to come back to your senses but by then the dye had been cast

* Rin couldn’t decide if he hated you or loved you for a good few months

* I think you’d have to be the one to come and speak to him first

* He’s one stubborn man

* When you confront him again you were planning to be calm but he pissed you off by ignoring you so you lashed out and screamed at him

* “Who the fuck do you think you’re ignoring Rindo?! Fucking speak to me or I’ll fucking stab you!”

* He’s sick of your bullshit

* “Yeh? You wanna stab me bitch? Go right ahead, can’t believe I fuckin love you, crazy little monster.”

* He just leans back in his chair and unbuttons his suit jacket, links his hands behind his head, crosses his legs and smirks at your shocked face

* Leaves you silent for once

* You stalk over to him

* Stab your knife into his desk

* And practically throw yourself into his lap before grinning and wrapping your hands around his neck

* “I’m definitely going to kill you eventually. <3”

* “Yeh yeh sure you are, crazy.”

Kaku-

* This man has the patience of a saint he dealt with Izana and South for Christ sake

* He gives you free reign of whatever you want

* You wanna beat someone up? Go right ahead darling he’ll watch

* You want to turn your snake tongue on him? Sure he’ll just act interest and ignore it anyway

* You want to actually fight him tho? Definitely not he’ll never raise a hand to you, you’ll be pinned before you can land one

* Doesn’t remember how he met you he just knows you were there one day nd you haven’t left since

* He fell for you when he saw you crouched next to a hurt child trying to comfort them even though you looked constipated and uncomfortable

* Approaches you a lot calmer than the others

* You’re definitely confused when there’s a constant looming shadow standing over you

* You could even be fighting and this guys stood right behind you watching and intimidating your opponent

* “Uh do you mind pissin off you overgrown spaghetti noodle.”

* He’s like tf I’m just looking out for you

* Proceeds to knock your opponent out in one blow

* You’re having none of this shit

* “Do you need some sense knocking into you motherfucker? That was mine get away you- you… just fuck off will you!”

* His unwavering stare definitely flusters you a bit

* Does this stop you from going to hit him? Definitely not

* He catches your fist mid air and pulls it above your head

* “Stop it y/n. I’m looking out for you it’s my job.”

* You have no dominance over this man can’t change my mind on this

* Even you glaring daggers at him doesn’t work

* A glare that has even the Haitanis looking uncomfortable

* Nothing you’re angry little self does bothers him

* He likes to pat your head when you do something well

* He definitely works on making you start to rely on him

* You have no idea how you ended up in his apartment me day but hey here you are

* Waking up in Kakuchos bed was not on your agenda today

* You try to sneak out but he’s in the kitchen

* “Don’t run away little one. Nothing happened I just put you to bed.”

* You find out someone tried to kill you because of a grudge

* Kaku found you before they could really do any damage

* Don’t ask what happened to them he won’t tell you ever

* He ‘handled it’ that’s all you need to know

* “You know I’ll alway be at your back, y/n. But I want to be selfish right now, please only look at me.”

* Stfu pretty boy

* “No. I wanted to tell you first, take it back!”

* You’ve successfully confused the man

* He’s like tf you want me to take back my confession so you can confess first?

* No

* Cue n argument that ends in you tackling him to the ground

* Y/n: 0 Kaku:1

* You’re dumb if you think this man didn’t want you pinning him to the ground

* “Okay tell me you love me then,little one.”

* “I- who’s said anything about that? I’m saying you’re mine. Don’t look at anyone other than me, Kakucho.”

Kokonoi-

* No <3

* He wants absolutely nothing to do with the feral gremlin that the Haitanis brought along

* Looks down his nose at you for a while ngl

* That is until you jump into a fight to help him

* Your “Get your fucking hands off him!” Gets all of his attention

* He was so sure he’d never be interested in anyone after Akane but here you are

* He wants all your attention now

* Shows up with random gifts claiming he had to buy it to get money off his other purchase

* Like ofc Koko those custom nuckle dusters definitely got you money off your new Armani suit didn’t they

* You better use them

* Cocky little shit will tell everyone in Bonten

* “You see those new toys they have? I get them cost me xxxx amount.”

* Likes to rest his arm behind your chair at Bonten meetings

* Ofc you’re made to sit with him now not the Haitanis

* Hates seeing you around Sanzu after your two had an altercation

* You confront him one day

* With Koko pinned against the wall in front of you knife at his throat

* He’s still smirking at you though

* “What the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing Hajime? You tryna get me to hurt you? I will ya know stop buying me shit and stop bothering me. You got something to say then say it, bitch!”

* So aggressive

* He lives for it

* Kinda wants you to hit him he can’t lie

* Masochist at heart

* “Sure sweetheart I have something to say. What size is your ring finger? What size diamond do you want?”

* Sir I think you’ve skipped a few chapters

* “Hmm I want the most expensive one you can find.”

* “Done.”

* Like no they don’t actually mean it silly man

* “Koko? Can you like stop for two fuckin seconds. I’m not marrying you, haven’t even taken me on a fuckin date.”

* Cue the two of you sat at the best restaurant he owns *ahem* “knows”

* One of the waitresses that takes your orders keeps batting her basic ass lashes at Koko right in front of you

* “Bitch are you fucking blind? Want me to cut your eyelids off so you can see better? I’ll fuck you up if you keep staring at my man. Get the fuck away.”

* Proud boy moment

* He’s grinning at you

* Turns to the bitch and literally shoos her away

* “You heard my darling get your basic ass away from us.”

* He’s a cocky little shit for the next few weeks

* Insists on matching outfits

* So fucking pricey

* Also buys you a necklace with his name encrusted in diamonds

* This is now the most expensive thing you own

* You have to wear it or he’ll probably throw a silent hissy fit

* “Koko if you ever look at anyone else I’ll peel your skin off with a cheese grater <3”

* This man is so quick to be like ‘okay baby. Anything you want’

* Sanzu thinks it’s hilarious

* “I still need to know what ring you want angel.”

Sanzu-

* Doesn’t even notice you’re scaring people

* Thinks you’re great

* Makes you go on missions with him 24/7

* Takes Mikey telling him that you’re way too aggressive for him to realise

* Does this make him want to get rid of you? Hell no

* He starts watching you a lot more

* He enjoys letting you take control of interrogations just so he can see you in your element

* King of hype

* “Yesss baby you pull that guys nails! Ooo good hit y/n/n~ You look so pretty covered in blood.”

* Freaks you out at first so instead of getting aggressive with the drugged up man with a gun you avoid him

* Well you try

* He pops up wherever you go

* He definitely begs for attention

* “Y/nnn look at meeee. Babyyyy I got us matching knives, yours has my name on it and mine has yours!!”

* Way too excited

* You’re pretty sure he already thinks your dating

* Kicks up a massive fuss when he hears you’re going on a mission with Rindou

* Poor baby just wants to go with you

* Personally think he’s the type to sit on the floor next your chair ,if you’re sat at sofas instead of the meeting table, and lay his head in your lap for attention when you get back

* He wants to make random physical contact with you

* Plays with your hands when you try to hit him

* Let’s you hit him sometimes

* Tbh I think if you’re ever physically fighting and he manages to pin your wiggling body he will bite you no lie

* This dude seems feral enough to just bite randomly

* Stuns you for a minute

* You end up head butting him which actually nocks him out for a bit

* (Might as well have a head like Tanjiro)

* When he wakes up and sees you sat next him shouting down the phone at someone he just mutters

* “I’m so obsessed with your pretty ass. So sexy.”

* Sir stfu not the time

* You just glare at him and carry on your argument

* He just grins back and reaches his hand out to stroke your kneecap

* You end up throwing your phone at the wall in frustration

* “I hate your psycho ass Sanzu, but if you’re mine then you’re mine alone I’ll kill anyone that looks at you.”

* “Ditto baby <3”

[unwrittenlibrary]

golden (you’re so golden)

summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 3.5k

warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.

notes // 💞

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.

There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.

Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.

“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”

Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.

He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”

Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.

“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.

“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.

“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”

Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”

You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.

“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”

You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.

He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”

Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”

Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”

Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.

》

Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.

He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.

Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.

Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version

“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”

It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.

“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.

“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”

You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”

You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“

“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”

Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”

“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”

Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.

》

“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”

Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”

Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.

You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.

“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”

Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”

You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”

You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.

“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.

“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.

Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.

“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”

Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“

“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”

Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”

You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.

Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.

Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.

》

The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.

Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.

He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”

You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”

“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.

You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.

Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.

Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.

》

Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.

It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.

“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.

Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.

Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”

“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”

》

The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.

“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.

He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.

“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.

You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”

You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”

You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.

“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”

You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.

“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.

Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.

“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”

“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”

Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.

“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”

“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.

You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.

He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.

“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.

Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.

Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.

“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.

You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.

“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.

Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.

“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!

[boldlyvoid]

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[nsheetee]

For Life (109 Steps to You Epilogue)

read “109 Steps to You” here!

Genre: epilogue, angst, fluff, soulmate AU Length: 5.4k Summary: Donghyuck and Y/N meet again one year after their last encounter, back at the place where it all started.

a/n: this is for everyone who asked for a part 2, I hope you all enjoy ♡

this is the epilogue for “109 Steps to You,” please read that fic before continuing!

Haechan walks into the cafe, the scent of espresso hitting him square in the face. He doesn’t have to walk far into the shop to find his two best friends sitting at one of the tables. Silence falls over the table once Haechan orders a drink and the waitress walks away. The three men sit mutely for a bit, looking at their phones or outside the big windows at the people walking by outside, until Haechan draws their attention.

“Huang Renjun, you invited me here and you won’t even say hi when I sit down.” At his ice breaker, Renjun lets out a shy laugh and turns in his seat to pay attention to his friend.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi.” Haechan says back sarcastically.

“Hi.” Jaemin pipes up from across the table.

Somehow, conversation became a lot easier after that.

Haechan never thought it would be awkward with his longtime friends, especially since it has been only a year since the three of them graduated college and moved on. Jaemin works as an elementary school music teacher (just an assistant, for now) and he shows the guys some pictures of his students, commenting about how so many of them have natural talent. Renjun decided to do the graduate program and stayed on campus.

“What about you, Haechan, what have you been up to?” Jaemin asks and takes a sip of his iced americano.

“Oh… Nothing special. I work at SM Entertainment.” The guys’ eyes widen at the “not so special” news and Renjun almost chokes on his bagel.

“As an artist?” Renjun coughs out.

“No, god no, I write music for them, and they liked me enough to let me produce songs in the future, so they have me a full time job.” Haechan explains.

“Dude, that’s insane. Congrats, that’s what you always wanted to do, right?” Jaemin asks, still looking a bit amazed by his friend’s accomplishments.

“Yeah.. I guess.” Haechan trails off, laughing afterwards and praying someone will have something to say to get the attention off of him.

“Actually, there’s a reason I wanted to meet you guys here…” Renjun sits up straighter, making Haechan and Jaemin glance at each other. “I’m going to marry Mya.”

“Renjun…” Jaemin turns soft, his eyes turning rounder and his bottom lip pouting at the news, making Renjun roll his eyes and laugh. His joy is just at the thought of marrying his soulmate, the one he has spent the past five years with.

Haechan has to swallow down the lump in his throat to congratulate his friend, ruffling his blonde hair and saying something about how he can’t believe Renjun is the first to get married out of the three of them. When Haechan was with you, they were all sure that he would be the one to get married first. Oh, how easily things can change.

“I was hoping you guys would help me? I want to ask her under the bell tower, the same place I asked her to be my girlfriend, but I want to do it at night. I need help setting things up.”

“Of course we’ll help, right, Haechan?” Jaemin asks, looking over at his other friend. Haechan knew that by coming to this small reunion, he would have to face a part of his past, but he decided to come anyway. The past year has been tough, but Renjun has been Haechan’s friend for longer than he can remember, so this is the least he could do.

“Of course,” He nods. “Anything for Renjunie.” He adds a pat on the head with the pet name and Renjun slaps his hand away, giving him a scowl. The two guys would have continued with their play fighting if it wasn’t for Jaemin suddenly standing up, his chair skidding back along the tile floor loudly.

Haechan and Renjun glance up at him, but his eyes are glued to the entrance of the cafe. They turn around just in time to catch a girl stopping in her steps, her eyes focused on Jaemin. It’s been years; her hair is longer than before and she definitely grew up since the last time they saw her, but it’s no doubt Yeji, Jaemin’s soulmate and the one who rejected him when they were teenagers in high school.

“Jaemin.” She clears her throat, looking at the three guys, “You’re all here. Why am I not surprised your friendship lasted this long?” She laughs lightly as she recognizes the group of friends.

“Do you want to sit?” Jaemin points at the fourth chair at their table that has yet to be occupied. Yeji nods slowly and makes her way to the seat, gently sitting down and smiling shyly at the three guys. There’s a silence that falls over the table as everyone sips on their drinks, but the world around them continues on living loudly.

“So, what have you been up to recently?” Jaemin asks and turns to face her.

“Oh, I’m finishing college this year. I go to UOS.” She proudly smiles.

“Oh? We all went there too, we never saw you?” Renjun asks.

“I took a leap year, so I started college after you guys. You probably didn’t see me around because of that.”

“What did you do during your leap year?” Haechan asks, leaning back in his seat.

“I was in the hospital.” When three pairs of wide, serious eyes stare back at her, she laughs and waves her hand at them, “Oh no, it wasn’t anything bad. I found out my immune system is weak and spent some time figuring out what medicine to take and making my body stronger so I don’t get sick easily. That’s why I was gone for part our last year of school, too.” She explains and the three guys unstiffen and nod.

“Is that why you rejected me?” With Jaemin’s sudden question, Renjun and Haechan felt like they shouldn’t be sitting at the table anymore. They glance at each other, both wondering the same thing: should we leave?

“No,” She looks over at her soulmate, and then glances at Renjun and Haechan, “I guess I should explain myself now, huh?”

“Please.” Since Yeji rejected Jaemin, he turned into a different person. His affectionate and compassionate side is still present, but he tended to keep a calm and neutral front during most of his time in college that made some people think he’s a mean and scary person. Haechan and Renjun are very curious as to why Yeji dumped Jaemin all of a sudden, for the sake of their friend, and stay seated to hear what Yeji has to say..

“I only have one mark.” She explains. Jaemin looks at her a bit dumbfounded.

“What do you mean? Where’s the other one?” He asks and glances over her as if trying to find her other mark. Yeji laughs a bit at the question.

“I mean, I was only born with one. I will only have one mark my whole life.”

“There are people like that? What does it mean?” Renjun asks, stirring the melting ice in his drink with his straw.

“It means that your soulmate is also the person who will hurt you the most in life.” Yeji’s sharp eyes glance over to Jaemin, “That’s why I rejected you so quickly. I’m sorry if I caused you pain. I was just young and only thinking about myself.” She explains.

“No, I understand. I think I would’ve done the same thing.” Jaemin nods, and the two of them fix their eyes down and away from each other, Jaemin now knowing the reason for their separation makes him think about the decisions he made over the past few years.

Haechan, however, starts thinking about you. His palms get clammy and his heart beats faster, his mind running through the years and years of memories he has of you.

Where is your second mark?

Has it just been so long that Haechan doesn’t remember anymore, or did he never see it in the first place? Could it be… that you’re like Yeji? One mark, destined to be hurt the most by the person who’s supposed to love you the most. Haechan feels sick. It can’t be.

“It’s rare, right? For people to be born with one mark?” Haechan asks Yeji, and she purses her lips.

“Not really, no. Most people just don’t admit it out loud, since it’s not the norm to only have one mark. If you think about it, the people you love have the most power to hurt you. It’s not that uncommon.” She shrugs, and the table settles into another silence as the three guys think about her words.

Haechan refuses to believe it. You told him everything, you trusted him to the very end. You would’ve told him if you only had one mark, right? On the other hand, Haechan cannot remember ever seeing a second mark on your body— ever.

He begins to feel pain, for you and for what you must’ve gone through while you were with Haechan if this is true. He also begins to feel fear. Fear that his actions in the past are the end-all, be-all to your relationship. Haechan always had hope that you two might be able to work out your problems in the future, until now.

Haechan really hopes he’s wrong. He really hopes there’s a chance, a small sliver of promise of a future left for the two of you.

“Oh, hey, you got here quick.” You say as you open the door, Mya stepping in through the threshold and into your home. “I’m sorry we had to change plans so quickly. It’s just Mirae got a fever and wouldn’t stop crying…” You trail off as you lead your friend into the kitchen.

“It’s alright, I understand.” Mya smiles, watching you pull two mugs out of your cabinet and pour hot water, the savory aroma of coffee immediately filling the room. Mya takes a good look at you; you have some hair falling out of your ponytail around your face, there’s some sort of stain on your sweater, and you can’t stop playing with the diamond ring on your left hand; you look just like any new mom would.

“So, what’s going on? You don’t usually call me up like this out of nowhere…” You ask once you sit down, mugs on the table between you and your old friend. During your college days, you guys got to be pretty close, but after you graduated it became harder to get in touch due to your busy lives.

“Well, you remember Renjun, right?” Mya begins, nervously sipping on her coffee. You pretend to not notice how her hands shake.

“Of course,” You smile at the memory of Mya and Renjun, “Are you guys doing good?” At the question, Mya sets down her mug and stares into the creamer that swirls through the coffee, her shoulders sagging and eyes dull.

“I think… he’s going to propose to me.” You freeze, your heart suddenly beginning to hammer in your chest. Not because you’re excited by the news, but because your friend looks miserable.

“Why does the look on your face say that’s a bad thing?” Your heart begins to break when Mya lifts her head to show the tears surfacing to the edge of her eyes. You reach your hand over the table to capture Mya’s, trying to comfort her in any way.

“You know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge.” You nudge her to open up. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand.

“I don’t think I’m Renjun’s soulmate. I think… I’m the opposite.” She admits, biting into her bottom lip. “I think I fell out of love. Soulmates can’t do that, right?” When you shake your head, she sighs and continues, “I think it happened a while ago actually, but I was too afraid to say anything because I still care about him, like a friend. We share a mark, so it could mean I’m the one who’s meant to hurt him the most, but, this is going to sound insane…” She lets some tears fall down her cheeks as she talks, and you can only grip her hand tighter to encourage her to speak.

“I don’t want to. I think I’m supposed to hurt him, but I don’t want to— not at all. How does any of this make sense?” The tears start to fall as she thinks more and more about the situation, why did fate have to be so unfair to her?

You always thought about how unfair it is that there’s going to be a person who hurts you and gets to walk away from the situation without a care. When it comes to Mya and your own story of how you got hurt, you realize hurt is a two way street sometimes. It’s not always malicious and spiteful, hurt can be just as much of a shared emotion as love.

“Hey, everything happens for a reason. Even if it hurts, it’s supposed to hurt for a reason. Or else, why would fate exist in the first place?” You’re not sure if these are the most comforting words you can give Mya at the moment, but she finds some comfort in your logic and nods her head.

“I should go talk to him, shouldn’t I?” When you nod your head, Mya sighs. She dreads having this conversation, even thinking about it makes her scared of how Renjun will react.

“When you have your thoughts in order, go to him and tell him how you feel. No matter what kind of relationship fate assigns you, it doesn’t take away all the time you spent together. It’ll be okay.”

Mya has a lot on her mind as she stands up and makes her way to your door, denying your request of walking her home or calling a cab. As she slides her shoes on, the bedroom door opens and closes quietly. Mya smiles at the man who walks up to you, some bags under his eyes and his light brown hair tousled, not surprising Mya the slightest.

“Is she okay?” You ask as he comes forward, worry lacing your words. The man nods and lovingly pats your head, telling you not to worry before turning to Mya.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t come out earlier to say hi, Mirae was sleeping on me and I didn’t want to wake her up.” He explains while his arm comes around your shoulders and he tiredly sets his chin against your head.

“It’s okay, Xiaojun, I’m the one who intruded. You guys should focus on Mirae, and maybe get some sleep.” Mya manages to smile as she glances at her phone, a message from Renjun reading “Where are you? Come home, I miss you” making her nerves from earlier arise.

“We’ll try,” You comment, “And hey, call me anytime. I’ll always be here for you.” Mya nods, sending a wave and walking out of the front door to walk the long way home. When the door closes, Xiaojun sighs and moves his head to your shoulder, snaking his other arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Y/N… I’m so tired.” He whines, laughing through his words a bit. It sends chills down your spine when his lips brush against your bare skin and his breath tickles your neck. You tug on his shirt, pulling him closer and resting your head against him.

“That’s what happens when a baby is sick.” You sigh, and Xiaojun can already guess the question that’s about to leave your lips. “You don’t regret this, do you?”

Around the same time that Donghyuck left you, Xiaojun found his soulmate. She came into Xiaojun’s life as quickly as she left it, something about backpacking through Central America. Not sharing the same goals and dreams as his soulmate, it left Xiaojun heart broken and lost without the person who’s supposed to be his home.

He needed someone and you needed someone, too. And then it turned from needing the other’s presence to understanding each other in a different way than friends do, and then you realized… You’re in love.

When he decided to love Mirae as if she’s his own, that’s when you knew Xiaojun is the right choice for you. However, that didn’t stop you from wondering if Xiaojun ever regrets his decision.

“You ask that question all the time,” He leans back, his gentle hands cupping your jaw as you make eye contact, “You know I’ll always answer the same way. I never regret picking you.”

Xiaojun waits for the anxiety to leave your eyes before giving you a smile, brushing his thumb over your soft cheek. He wonders how he hasn’t fallen in love with you sooner, you being his childhood friend and all. He knows it’s probably because he has always been waiting for his soulmate and it blinded him from seeing the one he truly loves: you.

When he feels you fully relax into him, he leans in and softly presses his lips to yours. You melt into him instantly, letting him hold onto you as his lips move slowly against yours. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and you hear Xiaojun whine when your nails scratch on his back over his shirt.

You pull away before anything else can happen, and Xiaojun stares back at you with a pout that makes you giggle a bit.

“Maybe we really should go to sleep?” You ask, and Xiaojun nods. He takes one more look at you, that look full of adoration that always makes your heart jump and your face heat up no matter what, and then he leads you to your bedroom for, hopefully, a restful night of sleep.

The next time you hear from Mya, it’s when you’re walking home from work one evening.

Your phone rings loudly and kills whatever train of thought you were on, pulling you to your electronic device and pressing the answer button.

“Hey, hun, what’s up?” You hum into the phone, stepping over cracks in the sidewalk.

“I think it’s today. I think Renjun is going to propose to me today.” Her words make you stop in your tracks, making some people around you throw a glare at the sudden obstacle in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What? What happened?” You ask.

“He just called me and told me to go to campus, to the bell tower. I just know he’s going to propose.” You can hear the panicky tone rising in Mya’s voice and you feel her anxiety all the way through the phone.

“Didn’t you talk to him about it?” You try to make sense of the situation.

“I was going to when I planned out what I needed to say, but I’m not ready yet. Oh, my god, I can’t go see him. I can’t.” You can practically hear her shaking her head by the sound of her wavering voice. “Please, Y/N, help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Mya, it’ll be okay. I’ll meet you in the front of the campus and we’ll go in together, okay?” You turn around abruptly, already planning the quickest way to get to the university in your head.

“Wait, what? I just said I can’t go there.”

“Think about it, if you don’t show up then Renjun will know something is wrong and bring it up first. If you do show up, then you can say what you need to first before anything else happens.” You explain as you weave through people on the sidewalk going home. “I don’t think you should drag this out any longer.”

“... Okay, okay, I’ll meet you there.” After saying goodbyes, you end the phone call and send a text to Xiaojun telling him you’ll be late tonight and saying you’ll explain later. You put your phone into your bag and quickly make your way to campus, playing with the ring on your finger out of worry for Mya.

When you arrive, Mya is already at the front gates, pacing back and forth as college students pass by and send her glances. You walk up to her, scooping her arm into yours and looping them together, calmly walking onto campus and towards the bell tower. You clutch your bag closer to your side, thinking about the one place you want to visit before leaving tonight.

“Have you thought about what you’ll say?” You ask quietly, but your voice still startles Mya and she jumps a bit in your hold.

“I can’t even think straight right now, I have no idea.” She grips your arm tighter.

“I believe in you. One way or another, you and Renjun are connected somehow. I think you already know what you have to say.” You ponder out loud.

“How?”

“Because it’s your fate, even if it’s a bad one. Some things in life are hard, but that’s why we can say we live.” Mya doesn’t look any more  relaxed at your words, and you don’t blame her.

After walking for some time, you reach the bell tower. You can already see a figure of someone standing underneath it. The sun is setting behind the clock, and when you walk closer, you can see balloons and some candles lighting up the dimming area. Right before you reach the tower, you stop and let go of Mya’s arm. Giving her one last look of reassurance, you gently push her to Renjun.

You don’t hear exactly what happens next, since you’re standing too far away. But if you had to guess, Renjun noticed Mya and greeted her with the flowers he was holding. For a split second, you felt deja vu. Back when you were just a college student, you saw this exact same scene through a video— same people and same proposal.

There was a point when Renjun’s face changed that you know Mya broke the news. He looked confused and agitated, but most of all hurt. True pain breaks over his face, you can even see it from where you’re standing. You’ve never seen someone hurt by the one who is fated to bring them pain until now. Renjun looks like he could crumble into the asphalt and roll away with the wind, and it would still hurt less than standing there, hearing the words of betrayal from the one he thought was his soulmate.

You sympathize with him. It’s almost like you can feel that same feeling, like muscle memory in your heart forcing you to remember what it feels like to be hurt that way.

When Mya turns and walks away, you see the pain on her face too. When she passes you, she moves quicker than you and you aren’t able to stop her, only watching her walk towards the entrance of the campus.

You turn to look at Renjun, your heart seizing in surprise when you see two other familiar faces: Jaemin and Donghyuck.

He looks like he hasn’t changed one bit, but at the same time he isn’t who you remember. His hair is still that golden shade of brown, falling over his ears and down the back of his neck. His clothes look the same, his posture is still a bit hunched as always, but his eyes and his gaze look different as he stares back at you.

You aren’t sure why you’re still standing there, you don’t have anything to say to your three old college friends, so you politely nod at them and turn around, walking further into campus. You walk next to the buildings you used to know so well, your feet guiding you to the place your heart wants to go to the most.

You pull out your phone and start calling Mya. Once, twice, and after the third time, you send a text asking her to pick up the phone. There are so many places she could’ve gone, and you could probably catch up to her if you turn around and run, but your feet don’t listen to your brain and carry you to the place you’ve been yearning to see again since the second you stepped into campus.

The staircase looks the same as it did 5 years ago. You have changed, so has Donghyuck, but this staircase remains stagnant in time. The trees on the left side still sway over the stairs peacefully and the cracks in the stone wall on the right seem to not have changed either. You immediately feel comfort upon seeing this steep set of stairs, slowly starting to walk up while putting your phone into your bag.

One, two, three, four, the fifth step a little longer, then repeat.

When you reach the top, the air feels slightly cooler and you close your eyes for a moment. Not for too long, though, because you hear your name being called from the bottom of the staircase.

Donghyuck manages to catch your attention with his loud voice, his figure looking small. You stand in your spots for a bit longer, the sun setting behind the trees and the wind nipping at your nose. Until, suddenly, Donghyuck starts climbing the stairs.

One, two, three, four, every fifth stride a little longer, one hundred and nine times until he’s on the step right before yours, glancing at you through his hopeful eyes.

“I knew you would be here.” He’s slightly out of breath, but the cheekiness in his voice is still evident.

“I knew you would find me.” You say back, making him smile a bit, “But, I’m not sure what for. If it’s about what Mya did to Renjun, I don’t think that’s my place to explain.”

“No, there’s something I’m curious about. Actually, there’s so many things I want to know about you, but I have a feeling you won’t tell me everything I want to hear.” He bites his chapped lip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his oversized jacket. “Will you let me ask you a question?” The look on your face tells him to go on.

“Do you only have one mark?”

You cock an eyebrow, “It took you this long to figure out?”

He laughs, not out of humor but out of disbelief, and looks at his shoes. “I can’t believe it. All this time…” he mumbles and kicks the step he’s standing on. When he lifts his head to look at you, you’re surprised by the tears lining his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Your heart still hurts to see him in pain, even after everything, your soulmate connection is still strong.

“For hurting you. You knew what would happen all along, you knew how we would end up, but you still stayed with me. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t do anything to save us.” He sniffs, one tear falling down his eye. He tries to wipe it away quickly, but you still see it. Something in you pulls you towards him, something telling you to comfort him, but you hold back.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past now.” You bite your lip in thought as he nods, “Where did you find out about single-marked people?”

“I ran into an old classmate. When she explained it, I realized it sounded just like what happened to us—”

“What you did to me.” You quickly correct him, making the pain on his face fade away and a cold look present itself on his features.

“Hey, I know you understand why I did what I did.” He rebuttals.

“Just because I understand doesn’t mean I’ll forgive and forget.” You taunt back, feeling anger and irritation rise. You decide now is the time to walk away, talking the first step down the stairs where Donghyuck is standing. He stops you with a strong grasp on your left wrist, turning you to him and looking you straight in the eye.

“One more question. Whose ring is this?” He holds up your left hand to his face, eyeing the diamond that shines as he tilts your hand back and forth. His thumb rolls over the dragonfly that paints your hand, his identical mark peeking out of his sleeve and touching yours as he examines the ring.

“Xiaojun gave it to me.” Donghyuck flinches at the name, looking between you and your hand.

“Xiaojun…” He repeats, the name feeling heavy on his tongue, “Good. He’s a good guy.” You can tell how hard it is for him to get those words out of his mouth, as if he’s saying the words out loud to convince himself rather than just commenting. You gently try to take your hand away, but Donghyuck grips onto it more, dropping your hands down between you two.

“Wait, one more question.”

You sigh restlessly, “You said that about the last question.”

“No, seriously, this is the last one.” You pause for a moment to compose yourself before nodding slowly, signaling him to go ahead and ask.

“Will you ever be able to do it? To forgive me, and to forget what I did?” His voice holds so much hope you’re almost afraid of talking, since you know your words will break whatever last piece of expectation he has left. You gently take his hand, stepping closer to him to slide it into his jacket pocket. You wipe some pollen off of his shoulder, looking him in the eyes afterwards.

“One day, when we’ve found our place in this world and the pain we gave each other is just a distant memory, I will forgive you. But I’ll never be able to forget how you left me when I needed you most. In this world where love is chosen for you, I turned my back on fate and I chose love. It’ll never be the same as when I was with you, but that’s not what I need. I need someone who will love me— someone who will stay when things go good or bad. Someone who will stay for life.” You explain, “And actually, I’ll start forgiving you now.”

You dig into your bag, finding your wallet and producing a photo from one of the slots that’s supposed to be for a card.

“This is Mirae. I can already tell she’s going to have your eyes and your hair when she grows older,” You can’t help but smile, watching Donghyuck’s every emotion as they move through his face. Surprise, fondness, instant love. “We’re always going to be tied together from now on. Not because of this,” You point to the dragonfly that’s imprinted on his hand, “But because of her.” You point to the picture that he’s gripping tightly.

Donghyuck looks at the photo for what seems like hours. The little girl in the photo is laughing at someone behind the camera, holding a rubber duck in her small hands. She's a perfect mixture between you and Donghyuck, and you’re right, she does have his eyes.

Donghyuck has never felt this much regret in his whole life.

“I have to go,” You say, pulling out your phone when you hear it buzz in your bag to see Mya calling you, “But don’t be a stranger. I never changed my phone number.” And with that, you walk down the stairs. When you get to the bottom, Donghyuck watches you turn and wave to him before disappearing behind the stone wall.

He grips the picture in his hand, not able to look away from his daughter who stares back at him with the same eyes. The sunset has ended and Donghyuck eventually makes the slow walk back down the stairs to find Renjun and Jaemin.

He keeps looking at the picture the entire walk back, thinking about the choices he made when he was younger. He realized he cared a lot about what his marks made him; the sunflower on his knee made him a stranger to his father, and the dragonfly on his left hand made him a stranger to his daughter.

Even though he thought he took the cautionary steps, in the end, he ended up exactly the way he never wanted to be— like his dad

The marks on bodies help guide people to their fate, but there is more to life than fate. Sometimes, you have to take destiny by the reigns and pull it your way. And with this picture— with this new chance to begin again, Donghyuck will do just that.

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |   T W O

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t  t w o  |  h a l l o w e e n   n i g h t

masterlist here

pairing: billy loomis x f!reader   word count: 4.3k   warnings: implied/referenced cheating, swearing (obv), drinking, implied smut, genuine S M U T, rough oral, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, all that fun stuff.

Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Not that he ever really could – and who could blame him, really – but tonight? Tonight, you were on a whole other level.

Stu’s house was packed to the brim with people, too fucking packed for Billy’s liking, but he’d make do. He might have wanted nothing more than to ditch the party, throw you over his shoulder, and have his way with you all night long but he couldn’t exactly do that. Not the first two, at least. But the second he could escape, he would, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t getting his hands on you tonight.

Maybe it was your little talk in the cornfield last night or maybe it was on account of that goddamn Halloween costume you were wearing but Billy was ready to have you all to himself. He needed to have you all to himself tonight.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen you in your cheerleading uniform before, in fact, he’d seen you in it a thousand times prior to tonight but the way you wore it tonight made him harder than he could fathom. The skirt was hiked shorter than usual making you appear all the leggier in your white knee-high socks and tennis shoes and the though the top hadn’t changed all that drastically it, like the rest of you, was covered in fake blood. There were drops of crimson corn syrup, now long dried, dripping from those perfect lips of yours and continuing down your throat until bleeding into the material of your cropped cheerleading top. The sliver of skin showing your abdomen had a single bloodied handprint on it as well and your thighs, those gorgeous fucking thighs of yours, had a few more messy handprints that seemed to trail up your leg before disappearing beneath the hem of your skirt.

He was in agony watching you carry on laughing with Tatum from across the room. You had no right to look that fucking good tonight, not when Sidney was directly beside him idly talking to Randy about some stupid fucking test that he couldn’t bring himself to care about.

How could he focus on anything besides you tonight?

“Your girl’s looking hot tonight,” Stu chimed in quietly, smirking knowingly across the room towards where you and Tatum stood. “All that blood. All that leg.” He made a purring sound and grinned. “You going to be able to keep it in your pants until tonight?”

“Subtlety, dickmunch,” Billy growled. “Try it sometime.”

Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, Stu giggled and sprung across the room towards where you and Tatum were. Without missing a beat, Billy watched Stu throw Tatum over his shoulder, much to her chagrin, before running back to Billy, Sid, and Randy. Shooting Billy a wink, Stu mouthed a quick ‘you’re welcome’ before carefully plopping Tatum onto her feet. Sure enough, there you were, following the happy couple with a smile on your face as you joined them.

“Whole party just saw your girlfriend’s ass, numb nuts,” you laughed, playfully smacking Tatum’s ass. “Cute panties though, girl, take me next time. I’ll pick myself up a pair.”

Tatum grinned and cozied herself into Stu’s side. “Deal,” she chuckled, battling with the fake vampire teeth in her mouth. With a groan, she took them out and chucked them into the trash bin a few feet away. “Remind me again why I thought that would be a good idea.”

“So, you’re a vampire,” Randy mused, eyeing her all-black attire. “That checks out. You’ve got the personality down pat.”

Stu furled his brows as his girlfriend smacked Randy’s chest. “We’re both vampires, idiot, isn’t it obvious? I’m wearing a fucking cape.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Randy rolled his eyes and glanced around the circle of friends surrounding him. “The rest of you I got right off the bat. Sid’s a witch, Billy’s a moody looking skeleton boy and Y/N is a dead cheerleader.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you clicked your tongue and pointed your beer bottle towards him in mock-outrage. “I’m not a dead cheerleader, Randy, I’m a demonic cheerleader. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, so you’re just a regular cheerleader, then.” Randy teased. When all he got was another smack to the chest, he surrendered. “Alright, alright. What’s the difference?”

“Well, for one,” you shrugged, “I’m not the victim. I’m the bad guy.”

“Bad guy, huh?” Billy piped in, watching you with that heavy stare of his. “What makes you so bad?”

“I eat boys,” you simply said, holding his purposeful gaze.

The corners of Billy’s lips raised in a small smirk at the innuendo but rather than let on, he simply ducked his head down and ran a hand through his hair. You were playing with fire tonight and it was obvious to him that you knew as much.

You’d definitely pay for that later on.

“Well, I think you look hot,” Sid smiled. “Blood and all.”

“Thanks, Sid,” you smacked on a smile and took a rather hasty gulp of beer. “You’re look like a babe tonight, too.”

“Thanks,” she flushed and looked down at her red dress. “It’s Tatum’s dress, I was scared it was going to be a little much on me.”

“Just enough,” you corrected with an honest smile. With your mouth suddenly dry and your guilt at an all-time high, you licked your lips and gave her a wink. “Billy’s a lucky guy.”

Leaning into Billy’s lean frame, Sid tilted her head up and placed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. Averting your eyes immediately to the island between you and the doting couple, you tried not to let your discomfort show as you polished off the rest of your beer. That never got an easier to watch, no matter how much reassurance you got from Billy on the matter. At the end of the day, you were in love with Billy Loomis all the while being best friends with Sidney Prescott, his extraordinarily kind and sweet girlfriend. It was bound to be a tough pill to swallow.

From across the kitchen island, you caught Stu’s eye and for a brief moment, you saw a something eerily close to pity flicker across his face. Clearing your throat, you shook your empty bottle at the group and nodded towards the garage. “Anybody need a refill?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stu shrugged. “There’s a whole other keg in there actually. Be a dear and grab it?”

“A keg?” You snorted. “Who am I? The Hulk?”

Stu’s grin was cheeky as he nodded towards the garage. “Billy’ll help,” he simply said, squeezing Billy’s shoulder. “And hurry up, would you? Crowd’s getting thirsty.”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at Billy briefly before nodding down the hall. “Come on, lover boy.” You teased, smiling apologetically at Sid who appeared none the wiser. “Be back in a sec.”

The hall leading down to the garage was crowded and full of your classmates dressed to the nines for Halloween. A few of the girls you were friends with smiled at you as you walked by, as did some of the guys, but the only thing you could focus on was the weight of Billy’s stare on your ass as you walked ahead of him. Sure, you mighthave been swinging your hips a little more than you should have been, but who could blame you? You were buzzed and Billy looked stupidly good tonight in his leather jacket and skeleton make-up. Even if said skeleton makeup was mostly gone from the amount of times he’d unwittingly rubbed at his face over the course of the night.

Pushing the door to the garage open, you held it open for Billy and shot him a brief smile as he walked into the chilly garage before closing the heavy door behind him. Walking down the steps towards the giant keg, you glanced over your shoulder and nearly laughed at the smouldering look he was giving you atop those steps. Turning around to face him fully, you gestured to the doorknob. “That thing have a lock on it?”

“Why?” He asked, leering. Slowly, he descended the steps towards you. Every step he took was agonizingly slower than the last but, being just as stubborn as he was, you remained firmly rooted in place with your own small smile in tow. “What would you have me do to you that would require a lock?”

“Who says you’d be doing anything?” You asked. “I’m the one who eats boys, remember?”

With a growl, he snaked his arms around your hips and pulled you into him. You could feel his budding erection through his jeans as he leaned down and nipped the base of your neck. The moan that escaped your lips on account of feeling his teeth dragging along your pulse point filled the empty garage and made Billy smile into the sensitive flesh. “Look at you in this fucking outfit. You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“Who’s teasing?” You asked. Reaching down, you gently squeezed him through his jeans and smirked when he swore under his breath. “I have every intention of following through.”

He kissed you hard and raked his fingernails up your bare thigh. The fake blood adorning your body might have been bone dry at this point in the night, but as he slid his hand beneath your skirt and rubbed his finger along the lace of your thong, a throaty laugh escaped his lips. You were so fucking wet. “Someone could come in here any second,” he whispered, pushing his finger beneath the material of your thong. The hiss that tore out of your throat sent him into a frenzy as he pinched your clit. “That get you wet, sweetheart? Knowing someone could walk in on us while I fuck you silly?”

“Billy,” you groaned, instinctually spreading your legs a little more to allow him full access to your slicked folds. “Lock the fucking door.”

“No,” he sucked at your bottom lip. “I want the whole fucking house to see us.”

Despite every rational part of your brain pleading with you to pull away from the infuriating man, you couldn’t. Not with how good he tasted on your lips and certainly not with his methodical fingers rubbing and pinching at your clit.

But two could play at that game.

Uncurling your fingernails from his shoulders, you got to work on his belt. Within seconds, it was gaping open as you fiddled with the button of his jeans and zipper before tugging them just far enough down his thigh for his cock to spring free. Biting down on his lip, you gave him a firm tug. “Lock. The. Fucking. Door. Loomis.”

You heard him laugh under his breath as he backed you into the keg. Once the back of your knees hit the coolness of the metal, you lost your footing and fell back against the piping along the top. The tap managed to hit you right on the tailbone, causing fireworks to explode behind your eyes, but with Billy’s deft hands still working your clit into a frenzy, you couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much. Stepping between your thighs, Billy’s hard cock danced across your wet folds as he tugged your underwear to the side. Your entire body was prepared to feel that familiar rush pure ecstasy that always followed that first, messy thrust. You were desperate for it in that moment, you craved it. But just as the tip teased its way down from your clit to your entrance, the garage door creaked open to reveal Stu’s handsome but mischievous face.

“Knew it,” he pretended to giggle as he quickly slid into the garage, being sure to shut it after to ensure nobody else saw the two of you. “Part of me thought ‘no way, they wouldn’t do it in my garage’ but the rest of me knew better. And, here you are.”

Swearing under his breath, Billy stepped away from you and ensured you were covered up entirely as he re-did his pants and belt. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

Between being caught up in the heated moment and feeling both shame and guilt for being caught, your cheeks must have been the colour of the devil himself as you ambled back onto your feet.

“Cock-block, asshole, the guy who just saved you from your girlfriend walking in on the two of you,” he casually waved it off, “I go by many names.”

“Shit,” you groaned, “how long were we gone for?”

“Not long,” Stu shrugged. “She just thought you two might need help seeing as how you were taking a few minutes.” He grinned. “Seems like you two kids had it all figured out, though.”

“Fuck-off for a second, would you?” Billy sighed and ensured Stu had turned around before looking back at you. Not wasting another second, he gently cradled your face and brushed something off of the tip of your nose. “White face paint,” he explained. Once he was sure it was gone, he leaned in and placed a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. “Sorry about this.”

“Should have locked the door, Loomis,” you reminded him with a wink. Fixing your skirt, you walked back towards the steps and nodded towards the keg. “I’ll let you two carry that behemoth into the kitchen.”

Sliding past Stu, you opened the garage door and re-entered the crowded hallway. No one looked suspicious of you as you crept out and even when you re-joined Tatum and Sid – Randy having since left to tail some blonde chick in his algebra class – you simply smacked on a grin and asked them what you’d missed.

“Where’s Thing One and Thing Two?” Tatum asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“The keg’s a beast,” you simply said, “Stu showed up to help so I figured I’d leave it to them. Machismo bull-shit and all that.”

You hated how easy it was to lie to them. The guilt was still there, the guilt was always there, but over time the lying had become almost second nature to you. You could have a girl’s night with Sid, watch shitty movies all night long, and then proceed to fuck her boyfriend at two in the morning as she was sound asleep back home. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair.

And yet as Billy and Stu moseyed into the kitchen with the keg in tow, the look Billy gave you was enough to silence the swell of guilt boiling to the surface of your gut. It wasn’t a smoulderingly sexy look, not even an irritated look from having been cock-blocked by his best friend. No, this look was something different. Something softer, gentler, than the Billy everybody else knew so well. This look was one he’d reserved just for you. It was same look you got when he was half-asleep at three in the morning, groggily smiling across at you as though you’d hung the moon. The same one that seemed to take you in and memorize you as though half-expecting you to disappear before his very eyes. It was a look of pure wonderment, pure sincerity.

“You girls want to play beer pong?” One of the guys from the hockey team asked as you, Tatum and Sid watched the pair struggle.

“Yes,” the answer was out of your mouth before you had time to register the request. Dragging Tatum and Sid towards the dining room table, you shot one final glance at Billy before focusing ahead.

You were going to slip-up if he kept looking at you like that.

»»-------------¤-------------««

You’d barely managed to scrape all of the fake blood off of your face when you heard the familiar thud of your bedroom window. You were still dressed in your bloodied cheer uniform and the bloodied handprints smearing up your thighs and along your abdomen were still ever-present as you popped your head out of your washroom only to find Billy casually sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Couldn’t have waited until after I showered?” You asked with a small frown. “I look like Carrie from the neck down.”

Smirking, he pushed himself off of your bed and sauntered over towards you. He had since cleaned the skeleton make-up off of his face and the leather jacket had long been shed, but he still looked handsome as ever grinning across at you.

“I was hoping I’d catch you before you changed,” he admitted.

You raised your eyebrow and leaned against the doorway. “And why’s that?”

He said nothing at first, simply just reached forward to scrape his thumbs against your nipples which were pressing firmly against the thin material of your top. “Just because it’s after midnight doesn’t mean Halloween has to be over,” he slid his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and tugged it over your head. In nothing more than your skirt and knee-high socks, Billy’s calloused hands began to squeeze your bare breasts all the while never breaking eye contact. “Figured the demonic cheerleader might want to get one last kill in for the night.”

You hummed your approval as he pinched at your nipples. “And you’re volunteering yourself?”

Billy smirked and leaned down towards your chest to allow his mouth to consume your nipple. His expert tongue swirled along the sensitive nub a few times before devouring it entirely. Sucking and pinching and biting at your breasts, you barely noticed him steer you towards your bed until the soft material of your blankets were bawled into tensed fists.

“Billy,” you moaned, eyeing him through half-lidded eyes as he teased your nipples. “Fuck. Get up.”

Not listening to you whatsoever, he continued his assault on your tits before you finally gave his cock a firm squeeze from outside of his jeans. “Billy,” you repeated. When his cloudy stare caught yours, you cocked your head to the side and pat the mattress. “Get on the bed.”

With a smirk, Billy released your nipple before clambering onto the edge of the bed. Hitching your skirt up your thighs, you climbed over his lap and straddled him. His hungry eyes swallowed you up as you leaned into his face, your hair fell around you like a blanket, shielding you both away from everything around you as you very slowly tugged his head up to place a kiss to his nose.

His hands were on you immediately. They skimmed down your arms and waist and hips before giving your ass a long, firm squeeze. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You smirked and lowered yourself further down onto his lap so your clit was overtop his jean-clad thigh. “Shut-up,” you teased, slowly sliding back and forth atop his strong thigh. “Kiss me.”

With a quiet laugh, he craned his neck up to capture your lips as you continued to rock back and forth on his thigh. He wasted no time in hiking your skirt further up your body to allow him better access to your bare ass to which he hungrily massaged and grabbed. Moaning into his mouth, you felt his one of his hands wander from your ass and up your waist before giving your naked breast another firm squeeze. His mouth hungrily enveloped your breast as you gently flung your head back. Between the sensation of his tongue on your nipple and the feel of your clit scraping against his strong, muscular thigh, you were in heaven.

But fair was fair. If he wanted to be your ‘last kill of the night’? The very least you could do was play along.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy as he gently bit and sucked at your pert nipple, you reached down and unbuckled his belt. Your movements were frenzied as you worked on undoing his jeans next, and when you finally managed to undo his zipper, you unlatched your tit from his mouth and began to shimmy down his legs.

Billy watched you settle between his legs, barely taking notice of the damp streak on his thigh as you peeled his jeans down his hips. His cock sprang to life for the second time that night and as he watched your hungry eyes scrape over his painfully hard erection, he could have come right there.

Your lips were puffy from your little make-out session, your cheeks flushed. And as your chest heaved with each shallow breath you took, your already perky nipples only hardened. Scraping your fingernails up his thighs, you wasted no time in licking your way up from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around his head as your hand gently massaged his balls. With hungry, half-lidded eyes, Billy watched that pretty mouth of yours take him. Slowly at first, but soon you fell into an easy rhythm as you sucked him off. He threw his head back as his fingers curled around your hair and tugged. Fuck, you were so good. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d blow his load in your mouth before you two could finish what you started in that damn garage.

Giving your hair another tug, you released his cock with a resounding pop and furled your brow. “Problem?” You asked stubbornly.

Without a word, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a bruising kiss as he carefully pulled you back onto the bed. Only rather than join you, he took his position between your thighs and tugged your thong clear off, exposing your extremely wet, throbbing pussy.

“Billy, let me fi—”

Before you could so much as think of your next few words, Billy buried his face between your thighs.

A guttural moan tore out of your lips as his dept tongue circled your clit, and as he inserted two fingers inside of you, you bucked into his mouth and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Billy’s tongue was euphoric, methodical. He lapped and sucked at your clit as his free hand reached up to play with your exposed breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers roughly. “Billy,” you rasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as that familiar heat began to encroach its way up your body. Curling his fingers inside of you, you nearly screamed. Thank god your parents weren’t home. “Billy, fuck.”

You were going to come. Any second now. You felt that mind-numbing pleasure build up in your toes and up your legs and as he gave your clit another long, glorious suck, you let it overtake you. Your entire body shook as you bucked into his mouth. Stars flashed behind your eyes as a strangled moan tore from your throat.

Releasing your clit, Bily kissed and licked his way up your body before leaning forward to capture your lips again. You could taste yourself on his lips as you leaned forward and as your eyes caught sight of his erection, you opened your thighs on instinct. Pulling away from his mouth, you nudged your nose against his to catch his eye and reached down to stroke his unbearably hard cock. “Fuck me, Billy.”

He seemed to search your eyes for a moment as you pulled him back onto the bed. Once he was laying down, you wasted no time in climbing on top of him. Reaching down, you guided the length of him inside of your wet folds and slithered it along your clit before lowering yourself onto him. He hissed at the sensation and squeezed your ass, watching your breasts bounce with every bound you took. Leaning forward, he caught one in his mouth and bit down on your nipple, relishing in the moan he received on account of it. He must have bit harder than intended as within seconds, he could taste a metallic fluid rolling onto his tongue. Blood. Your blood. Looking back up at you, unsure of your reaction, his cock twitched inside of you when all you did was groan and tug at his hair.

You liked it.

Swirling his tongue around your nipple, Billy’s hands held your hips as you swiveled and bounced on top of him. He was going to come soon, he knew he was, but when he watched you reach down and begin to stroke your clit as he was buried inside of you, that was it. Leaning forward, he found your lips again as he came undone inside of you. “Fuck,” he rasped out, holding you firmly in place as his cock writhed inside of you.

Feeling his cock twitch, you waited on his last few pumps before breaking your kiss. “Happy Halloween, Loomis.”

A slow, lazy grin tore across his lips. The pair of you were stark naked in the middle of your bedroom, he was literally still inside of you, and yet there you were. Both grinning stupidly down at each other as your words sunk in. Slowly, you slid off of him and joined him on the bed your naked chest heaving up and down as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You going to kick me out of your bed so that you can shower?” He asked quietly.

“No,” you shrugged. “Not yet.”

Billy blinked, mild surprise showing on his face. But, before another word could be said, he leaned in and gently kissed your lips. Unlike the kisses you two had shared in the heat of the moment, this was soft and deliberate. And, as he pulled away, he placed another kiss to the tip of your nose before relaxing into the sheets. “Good,” he mumbled, pulling a thin blanket up your naked bodies.

You smiled and relaxed into the warmth in his chest. You absolutely should be slinking off to the bathroom to shower all the fake blood off of you, but that could wait another few minutes. For now, against Billy’s chest, basking in the pale moon glow shining in through your bedroom window, this was the only place you wanted to be.

LET ME KNOW IF YALL LIKED IT + IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE BILLY IMAGINES IN THIS SERIES BC YA GIRL IS WILLING

[gc-genshin]

Chapter One: Acatalepsy

Acatalepsy (noun): The idea that it is impossible to truly comprehend anything. 

Pairing: Various x female reader

Summary: You and Xiao have a nice chat.

Warnings: Explicit language

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Since so many people wanted this series to continue, here’s officially Chapter One! Happy reading!

      Prologue          Chapter Two         

You're still having a hard time believing what you're seeing. 

In front of you sat Xiao, one of your favorite characters from Genshin Impact, glaring daggers at your seated form. A small table, no bigger than three feet wide, separated you from him. 

And there you sat across from him, shaking in your metaphorical boots under his intense gaze. 

Let's recap, shall we?

—

“Hi, my name’s [Name] [Last Name] and I'm from a world where you're a fictional character in a video game. It's nice to finally meet you, Guardian Yaksha Xiao.”

As soon as his name slipped from your lips, your neck was met with the end of his polearm. Though you somewhat expected this kind of reaction, you swore your soul had never left your body so fast. 

“How do you know my name?” Xiao really did growl at you this time. His amber eyes pierced into your now soulless body, looking downright murderous. 

“How do you know that about me? That I was apart of the Yaksha?” If you didn't know any better, you'd say Xiao was getting frantic. You did know better. But you were also a dumbass. 

“Would you believe that I'm twenty-two now?” You managed to choke out. The polearm nearly breaking the skin on your neck was your only answer. “OKAY, OKAY, I’M SORRY! Please give me a chance to explain myself! I’ll tell you everything, just please don't turn my head into a shish-kabob!” You pleaded while closing your eyes. Wow, this is the second time today that I've danced with death, you thought humorously. 

Xiao stared. And stared. Then stared some more. You were starting to sweat from his unresponsiveness. Peeking an eye open, you saw Xiao contemplate whether or not to believe you. You watched his beautiful amber irises flicker across your face, looking for any sign of deceit. 

When he found none, he pulled his polearm away. Not completely, he was still on high alert, but enough so that you could breathe. You nearly wept real Jesus tears when he did. But that almost changed when he roughly grabbed your upper arm and transported you to his room at the Wangshu Inn. 

The moment you both rematerialized he let go of your arm. Having been caught off guard from teleporting, you fell to the floor dizzy while trying to keep the vomit that crept up your esophagus down. 

Xiao stared blankly at you, “What? Have never experienced teleporting before?”

Looking up at him from the floor, you take a deep breath before responding to him. “No, teleportation is nothing but a pipe dream from my world.” You then slowly sat up and gave him a tired, lopsided smile, “I’d be long dead before it's ever invented.”

Xiao once again just stares at you. You were such an odd human. He had never experienced someone with your type of personality. 

Focusing on the task at hand, Xiao walked over towards a small table and proceeded to sit down on one side of it. He then pointed to the side in front of him and uttered a simple word. 

“Explain.”

—

And so you did. 

You explained everything to him. Like how you were currently a medical student, studying to be an ER doctor. You explained to him how he was a part of a video game you played in your downtime when you weren't studying. How you knew his background. That you knew what was going to happen in the future. 

You explained it all. 

“So… in your world you're actually twenty-two?” Xiao asked slowly, trying to fully comprehend what you had told him. 

“Yup.” 

“And your occupation was a healer?” 

“Well I was still studying to become one, but essentially yes.”

“And I am considered a fictional character from a video game that you played.” 

“Yup.”

“And you know everything that's going to happen in the future?” He pressed. 

“Well not everything, only up to a certain point. Which leads me to ask this…” You prop your elbows on the table, interlacing your fingers then resting your chin on them. “Have you seen boy around my ‘age’,” you put air quotations around age, “ with long, braided blonde hair and dressed in all black?” You asked. “He would also have a floating companion that talks a little too much.” 

Xiao shook his head. “No, I have not come across anyone that fits your description.”

Looking off to the side, you thought to yourself. Good. So he hasn’t been to Liyue yet.

Xiao raised an eyebrow at you. “How is that good?”

Startled, you whip your head to Xiao. Shit, I guess I said that out loud. 

You give a hefty sigh. “Because it gives me a good idea of where I am in the storyline.” You say, looking back to him. “If he hasn’t shown up in Liyue yet that could mean I'm near the beginning of the game. Hell, he might not have even come yet.” You raise a finger to your chin. Then what would be the point of me being here? Would that make me the next traveler then? You looked towards Xiao. Well whatever the reason is, I'm here now. And it's important I found out why. I'll figure out the Aether situation when I get there. 

Xiao looked at you confused. “Who are you talking about?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Hesitating to answer Xiao, you wondered if it was a good idea to tell him about our main protagonist and antagonist just yet. 

You give him a apprehensive smile. “I don't know if I should tell you just yet.  I don't unknowingly want to start a butterfly effect. I'm sorry.” 

Xiao then sighed and put his head in his hands, seemingly at a loss as to what's going on. 

I think this is the most emotion I've ever seen from him. 

You had half the mind to reach over the table and pet his head to try and calm him down. But then again, you quite liked having your arm, so you decided against it. 

You gently spoke to him, “Trust me, I don't know what the hell’s going on either hun. If I knew more then I would tell you in a heartbeat.” You freeze, catching your little mishap. Xiao slowly lifted his head from his hands, looking at you quizzically. No anger, no vexation. Just pure confusion.

“Hun?” You feel your face start to heat up in embarrassment, hearing him say it. It was a bad habit that you had, calling your friends pet names; mainly just friends that you trusted. And you trusted Xiao. 

“I'm sorry! It's a really bad habit of mine. I usually call all of my friends a term of endearment. Hun is short for honey, but I swear to God I didn't mean to call you that, it just slipped out!” You quickly explained to him, shaking your hands in front of you.

Xiao stared at you. You noticed he did that a lot. He's probably just trying to understand your weird mannerisms. “It's fine… I guess.” He said, finally looking away from you. 

One… Two… Three… Four…

Ah, the silence is awkward now, say something [Name]!

As soon as you were about to open your mouth, Xiao beat you to it. “So what's your plan now?” He asked, now looking back at you. 

You blinked at him for a few seconds, processing what he said. You then looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought. What is my plan now? What am I going to do? I obviously can't stay with Xiao, with him being an adeptus, and leech off of him. Maybe I could go to the Adventures’ Guild? Earn some commissions, maybe be homeless for a bit? But I don't even know how to use a sword. No, that wouldn't work–

Cutting your thoughts off, you responded to him with the only answer you could think of. 

“I don't know, haven't thought that far ahead.”

Xiao should be used to this already. He really should. But he couldn't help but send the odd girl an unconvinced look.

“You haven't thought of a plan?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hey! Need I remind you that you were there from the very beginning? I haven't really had the time nor the mental capacity to think of a plan for the future!” You huffed at him indignantly. This guy. You shake your head, clearing any annoyance you had with him. Getting irritated isn't going to help your situation [Name], relax. Taking a deep breath, you looked at Xiao. He seemed to be in deep thought, so you decided to not bother him. 

Crossing your arms on the table, you finally felt exhaustion catching up to you since the adrenaline of everything was wearing off. You laid your head in your arms and sighed, trying your best to ward off sleep. 

Xiao looked over at you. Seeing the state you're in, he decided you weren't fit to travel anymore. He then stood up, having made up his mind. 

Noticing the abrupt movement from across the table, you see Xiao stand up and walk towards the door. 

“Wh… where're you going?” You mumbled to him, too tired to raise your voice. Xiao looked back at you with his hand on the doorknob. “You're not fit to travel any more today. I'm going to talk to the receptionist about getting you a room here at the Inn.” He then opened the door and left. 

You stared at the spot he was in for a few seconds. Huh, maybe he isn't such an asshole. You then put your head back into your arms, smiling softly. “Though I knew that already. Thank you Xiao.” That was the last thing you said before finally succumbing to sleep. 

—

While walking down the flights of steps to talk to Verr Goldet about your accommodations, Xiao felt a shiver going up his spine. A whisper of his name in your voice flew through the breeze and into his ears. He paused in his steps, contemplating whether he should go back or not. You said you knew what  happens when you called his name, yet why would you say it right after he left the room? Xiao suddenly felt nervous for reasons he did not know and teleported back to his room, polearm at the ready to strike any threats that appeared before you or him.

When he only saw you slouched over the table asleep, he relaxed. That was strange. I could have sworn I heard her beckon me. Glancing at you once more, he decided to ask you about it later. He then left the room and teleported right in front of the front desk, scaring Verr Goldet and the Inn’s cat out of their wits. 

“Archons, Xiao! A little warning next time would be nice!” Verr Goldet exclaimed, a hand over heart hoping it wouldn't burst out of her chest. Xiao proceeded to ignore her. 

“I need a vacant room.” Xiao stated. 

Always straight to the point, thought Verr Goldet. “I'm sorry Xiao, but we don't have any vacant rooms. We're all booked for this years Lantern Rite Festival.” She tells Xiao. The young adeptus deadpanned at Verr Goldet. “Don't look at me like that. Why do you even need another room?” Verr Goldet wondered. 

Xiao sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's a complicated situation. Let's just say I have an unwelcome guest with me right now.” 

Although curious, Verr Goldet just shrugged knowing he wouldn’t outright tell her. “Well either they stay with you or you kick them out. We don't have any rooms for them to stay in unfortunately, so the choice is yours.”

The young adeptus sighed once more. 

How troublesome. 

—

Appearing back in his room, Xiao looked at you. You were still hunched over the table, in what looked like an uncomfortable position, yet you were still asleep. Xiao weighed his options. On one hand, if you stayed with him he didn't know if you would leave, which would cause problems for the both of them. On the other hand, he could wake you up and kick you to the streets but deal with gnawing guilt that would eat at him if you were ever harmed because of his decisions. 

Making up his mind, he walked over to your sleeping form. He then crouched next to you and gently scooped into his arms, doing his best not to wake you. However it seems that you were a deep sleeper and didn't stir in the slightest to being moved. You did, however, snuggle in closer to his chest seeking the warmth it gave off. 

Xiao froze, waiting for you to stop moving before moving you over to his bed. Settling you on the bed, you immediately started reaching for blankets craving the protection they gave you from the cold. Xiao only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, handing you the blankets you oh-so-desperately needed. Is she really twenty-two? Because she acts like a child. Xiao watched as you pulled the blankets up to your chin and snuggled into his pillow, [h/l] [h/c] hair draping over it. 

Not needing sleep, the young adeptus decided to sit next to you and watch over you. Not in a creepy way, but in more of a way of trying to understand you. You might have been the strangest human he's ever met, but you were charming. In your own, unique way. 

While watching you, Xiao was trying to figure out what to do with you. As far as he knew, you were defenseless, didn't know how to protect yourself, and had a sharp tongue that would most definitely get you into trouble. 

In other words, Xiao hadn't thought that far ahead. 

There she is! Chapter One! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did writing it!  As always, feel free to leave any suggestions and constructive criticism and if you wish to be on the taglist, please let me know!

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: 

@craptainlou​ @lucys-art​ @dilucsz​ @i-put-the-dying-in-studying​  @softyakult @lumi-ying​ @fraeppuccino​ @ayachii​ @cher7ybear @simping-4-fictional-men

[sankyeom]

i spy with my little eye | l.jy

pairings: lee juyeon x reader (she/her/hers pronouns) genre: spy au, rivals to lovers warnings: some descriptions of fighting, injuries, explosives, and guns summary: in which the company you work for is the main rival of juyeon’s company, and you’re known for always being one step ahead of him; even when it comes to realising his feelings for you (based on this timestamp that i wrote before the stealer came out) word count: 8.3k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“I hope you understand how important it is that we get our hands on that file,” your boss, Mrs Kwon, explained to you after briefing you on your next mission. Your agency was the leading organisation in espionage, amassing over 30 countries. “The encryption on it is extremely advanced, so we’ll need it back undamaged so our cyber division can recover the files,” she finished, closing her tablet and glancing at you. “My understanding is that CKR have their best agents on the job as we speak.”

You nodded, “I’m familiar with them,” you told your boss, having come across the agents from CKR on several occasions, especially Juyeon. “They won’t be a problem.”

Your boss gave you a curt nod in agreement, handing her tablet off to her assistant. “You must know how important this is, Y/n. I cannot stress it enough. I chose you for this mission because you have proven yourself to be loyal and competent after the three years you’ve been here. I trust you to complete your mission well; this cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“I understand,” you assured your boss. “I won’t give anybody the chance.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mrs Kwon nodded. “Now, the gala is starting in six hours. I suggest you stop by costume and weaponry before you go. We wouldn’t you to stand out or be unprepared.”

You paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Maybe that’s exactly what we want…” you trailed off as you exited your boss’s office and made your way to the costume department.

You had purposefully made contact with the head of governmental cyber security multiple weeks prior to the gala. Knowing that he had the key to hacking into governmental firewalls and protections meant that you couldn’t let it slip through your fingers that night.

Mr Kim had recognised you immediately, since your stunning red outfit couldn’t be missed. You had clearly made the right decision to wear it, because Mr Kim couldn’t keep his eyes off of you the whole evening.  

“Do you have eyes on the target?” Sangyeon’s voice rang through Juyeon’s earpiece. Juyeon had been undercover for the duration of the gala that evening, staying low-key in a formal but simple suit in order to blend in with the crowd. Sangyeon was surveilling from a getaway car parked nearby for a quick exit. Not only was Sangyeon the team leader, he was also their best and most efficient driver.

As subtly as possible, Juyeon placed a hand on his earpiece to reply to his team leader. “Affirmative. Exiting main ballroom through the North door,” Juyeon informed as he followed the short man who was speedily walking through the crowd; the man looked flustered and slightly tipsy, despite being the head of cyber security for the South Korean government.

“I trust you’ll secure the package and not let it slip like last time,” Juyeon could hear Kevin tease through his earpiece. He spotted Kevin sipping on champagne in the corner of the ballroom, raising his glass to him to further poke fun at Juyeon’s previous failures.

Juyeon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he retorted, placing his glass down on the nearest table and following the target out of the ballroom.

Before he could exit the room, somebody stood before him – dressed in a stunning red outfit that could capture attention from ten miles away – and blocked the doorway. You stood in before Juyeon, an eyebrow raised as ran your eyes down his body. Most of the time when you met him, you were both dressed in your all-black protective gear; it was a nice change to see your handsome rival in a black suit, hair styled to perfection.

“You clean up pretty good for someone who works for the second best agency in the world,” you taunted as you dragged your eyes up to meet Juyeon’s eyes.

Juyeon gulped.

He had always been attracted to you, and this had been his downfall.

The two of you worked for competing agencies and were always put on the same missions, being the best and most experienced agents at your agencies. However, nearly every time Juyeon came close to completing his mission, you already had it in the bag. You were clever, stunning, and always a step ahead of him. You also knew that Juyeon was fond of you, and you used it to your advantage whenever possible.

Juyeon couldn’t find it in him to hate you for it.

“I don’t have time for this,” Juyeon said, trying to sound as passive and bored as possible. By the smirk on your lips, he could tell you weren’t convinced, causing Juyeon to falter slightly. “I’m-“

You pulled a USB stick out of your pocket and dangled it in front of his face. Juyeon’s eyes narrowed, and he could hear Kevin and Sangyeon cursing in his earpiece. Dread filled him, overpowered only by the adrenaline he felt whenever he was in your presence.

You had beat him to it, again.

“-looking for this?” you finished his sentence, titling your head to the side to feign innocence. Then, you grinned, tucking it back into one of your pockets safely. “You should get to know your targets better,” you criticised with a smirk. “Maybe it’ll get you somewhere instead of trying to sneak up on them for the first time the night of a celebration.”

Juyeon narrowed his eyes at you, unsure of what to say. “That outfit draws too much attention, how did you manage to get it before I did?” he wondered instead.

You shrugged. “Sometimes you need the target’s attention,” you reminded him, leisurely stepping closer to Juyeon and leaning in so you lips were next to his ear. “Poor Mister Kim kept his eyes on me and made it easy to snatch this,” you patted your pocket. “Right from under his nose.”

“Abort,” Sangyeon told Juyeon through his earpiece. “Get out of there. We need to regroup for Plan B before we’re out of time.”

Seeing how worked up Juyeon was at your victory only made it more enjoyable for you. Before Juyeon could exit through the door, you bushed your lips against his cheek in an almost-kiss. “See you for round 2,” you told him with a wink, leaving Juyeon behind with his heart pounding erratically as you disappeared through the door.

“What the hell happened?” Sangyeon asked once Juyeon and Kevin were back in the car. “You told me you had eyes on him.”

“I did,” Juyeon snapped, trying his best to calm his temper. Realising how rude he sounded, he softened. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “Y/n got to him before I even realised. She probably knew his routine by then, maybe even personally came into contact with-“

“I don’t want to hear about Y/n again,” Sangyeon interrupted, sighing. “What are you doing, Juyeon? You’re the best operative at the agency, yet the same person keeps intervening on all of your missions. It’s making you look incompetent, and our team look weak.”

“He’s doing his best,” Kevin piped up to defend Juyeon, who slumped in his seat. “I was in the room, and you had surveillance on Mr Kim the whole time. Y/n got past all of us, not just Juyeon. She’s just too good at her job.”

“You’re right,” Sangyeon allowed. “I’m sorry, Juyeon. I shouldn’t have blamed you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Juyeon mumbled. “I get it. You’re just looking out for the team.”

When they returned back to CKR headquarters, Sangyeon called for the whole team to gather so they could put Plan B into motion.

“We know where the USB is,” Sangyeon explained. “Y/n is too far from her headquarters to get there by tonight, she’ll have settled somewhere nearby and will be waiting to get transportation back tomorrow. We have to intercept them before that happens.” He decided.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Sunwoo, the intelligence analyst, wondered. He was one of the youngest members on the team, but was no less competent than the older members. “If Y/n has custody of the USB, we’re hardly going to be able to pry it out of her fingers.”

“No,” Sangyeon agrees. “She’s only going to hand it over to people that she trusts,” he added. “So, we need to become people that she trusts.”

“Pose as her team,” Jacob, one of the main intelligence operatives on the team, realised. “If she thinks that we are her transportation, she’ll have no problem handing over the USB.”

“Exactly,” Sangyeon agrees. “We need to have Chanhee run cryptography as soon possible. From what we understand, the information on the USB is timed. We only have 72 to decrypt and access it before it self-destructs and erases everything. And we need that information to be kept out of the wrong hands.”

“She’s not just going to get into any car and hand over the USB to somebody she doesn’t know,” Hyunjae pointed out from where he sat, spinning himself in circles on one of the wheeled office chairs. “I’m sure they have a system where she gets the licence plates so she knows she’s in the right car.”

“It’s a small window, but we can make it,” Sangyeon was sure. “After we know the message has been transmitted, we take down the driver and send in Juyeon to pose as her driver. She’ll recognise him as soon as she gets into the car, so we have to act fast.”

Juyeon was unsure. “I don’t know…” he trailed off, thinking. “It seems too simple,” he admitted. Juyeon had dealt with you enough to know that nothing got by you so easily.

“Simple is best sometimes,” Sangyeon retorted, crossing his arms. “If we think about this too much, or create an extravagant plan, I think Y/n’ll see it coming from a mile away.”

Juyeon nodded. “Alright, leader. I’ll trust you on this,” he decided, knowing that Sangyeon had been operating for far longer than Juyeon had.

The next night, after the sky had darkened, you packed up in your lavish suite at the hotel a few blocks down from where the event was held last night. You were staying down low so that you could get to headquarters as soon as possible. You knew that Mrs Kwon was right when she said that the information on that USB stick was incredibly important; it also had a timer on it and wouldn’t stay relevant for long. There were only around 48 hours left on the information.

After receiving a text from your usual driver saying he was a block away, you secured all of your belongings and tucked the USB into a hidden compartment of your black cargo pants. Tying your hair back, you made your way out of the room and left your key at the reception. They already knew who you were and took it wordlessly, allowing you to slip out the revolving door to wait for your car in the back alleyway.

As the familiar black SUV came rolling around the corner, you smiled and headed over to sit down in the back. “Good evening Phil,” you greeted, getting in and moving to buckle your seatbelt.

The familiar click of a gun made you freeze in place, hands on your seatbelt as you glanced up to see Juyeon sitting in the driver’s seat. “Oh, hi,” you greeted casually, as if your biggest competitor wasn’t just sitting in a car he had abducted. “Nice to see you in more casual clothes. Do you think you could step on it? I’m kind of on a time crunch, here,” you said.

Juyeon narrowed his eyes. “Stay right there,” he told you, trying not to fumble with his gun. He didn’t want to have to harm you in any way, so he hoped for his own sake that you’d be compliant.

You rolled your eyes. “How is it that I’m always one step ahead of you?” you wondered. Quick as a flash, you lifted your leg and kicked the gun out of Juyeon’s hand, taking his surprise as a chance to grab the gun for yourself and point it at him.

Juyeon cursed, freezing in place. He should have known that the threat of a gun wasn’t going to scare you; you were better trained in hand-to-hand combat anyway. “Get out of the car,” you told him in a slow voice, looking at him through narrowed eyes. Juyeon could see the hurt that lingered in them, and guilt filled his gut at the realisation that you somehow felt betrayed by him.

“Y/n,” Juyeon began, trying to convince you otherwise.

“Do as I say, Juyeon,” you replied, opening your car door and slowly following him out. You realised that the narrow alleyway behind the hotel you were staying in provided the perfect place for someone to hijack your car. “Now, what exactly do you think that you’re doing?” you wondered, motioning for Juyeon to step away from the car.

“Y/n, just listen,” Juyeon pleaded. “I know this looks bad, but I just-”

Before he could finish, a giant force threw the two of you into the air. The force of an explosive going off in your car.

Juyeon hit the ground hard, winded from the explosion and coughing as smoke and fire enveloped the black SUV. You had also been thrown to the ground, but your closer proximity to the car meant that you had suffered worse injuries than Juyeon. Both your side and wrist had hit the ground at bad angles during your fall, your head spinning as a result from the impact.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, coughing on the ground. You had a ringing in your right ear, which had been facing the car when the blast went off, and were struggling to properly get up due to the injury your ribs had apprehended during the explosion.

Civilians had started running away from the surrounding area, terrified. “You just tried to kill me, you asshole!” you exclaimed, horrified at Juyeon’s approach of getting the USB stick from you. Explosives? Really? “What did I do ever do to you?”

“That wasn’t my explosive,” Juyeon snapped in response.

“You pointed a gun at me,” you retorted, coughing. “Why should I believe that you didn’t try to kill me?”

“We need you alive and you know it. Besides, why would I blow up a car that I was planning on driving?” he added, slowly getting to his knees and attempting to stand up.

You let out a shallow breath, realising what this meant for you.

Your boss, Mrs Kwon, had sent a car with a timed explosive in it.

To kill you.

Had Juyeon not hijacked the car, you and your usual driver Phil would have been dead on the way back to headquarters. Police sirens neared you, and you did your best to drag your feet up.

“We need to go,” you murmured, Juyeon trying to help you up as best as he could. “Now,” you added firmly, wincing as you used your non-injured hand to take Juyeon’s arm. Head spinning, you did your best to adjust to your surroundings.

“I know a place,” Juyeon suggested.

Unsure, you glanced up at him. “And why should I trust you?” you asked.

Juyeon paused, eyes softening at the sight of your injured and scratched body. He sighed, “You know why,” his eyes implying even more than his words did.

And you did know.

Ever since you and Juyeon started meeting during your assignments and missions, the attraction between the two of you was clear. Competing against one another had only added to the heightened emotions and energy between the two of you, and when Juyeon realised he had fallen for you, you were once again ahead of him.

You knew the second he was emotionally invested in his relationship with you. But someone as honest and expressive as Juyeon, almost to the point where he seemed innocent, couldn’t hide how he felt.You had never used his feelings for you against him, and you had never indicated that you felt the same either.

“Besides, what other choice do you have?” Juyeon added. “Mrs Kwon just tried to kill you,” he had also caught on. “I’m the best shot you’ve got at hiding out until it’s safe for you again.”

You weighed out your options. “Okay,” you gave in, mostly because you could barely walk on your own. And partially because your gut was telling you to trust Juyeon. “Where are we going?”

After a short argument about whether or not you would let Juyeon fireman carry you, you had won the fight and did your best to hide how badly your ribs were really injured, holding your tongue and diligently following Juyeon. You had sustained many injuries from missions in the past, and you were quite sure that your ribs were just badly bruised and not fractured.

Juyeon turned on the lights to his apartment, helping you over to his sofa. “This is my place,” he explained. It wasn’t too far from where the blast went off, and it was the only safe place Juyeon could think of letting the two of you hide out. He went into the kitchen and rifled through his drawers for his first-aid kit.

“I thought you were just going to take me to your headquarters,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you?”

Juyeon paused his search, spotting the first aid kit and pulling it out quietly. “I don’t know,” he replied, sighing. “You’re hurt and I can’t take you to the hospital because we’re spies and I’m not trying to let you bleed out or anything,” he added, kneeling in front of you and tending to your wounds. He had clearly looked after his own injuries before in the past, as you often had to do after missions, so you let him help you as the two of you sat in silence.

You had always known that Juyeon was handsome. The first time you met him, it was the first thing you noticed about him; his sharp features, small eyes and narrow nose. Something about the combination of his characteristics made him more stunning than you could comprehend.

“Stop staring at me,” Juyeon mumbled, sounding more shy than teasing under your stare. “It’s making me nervous.”

You rose an eyebrow. “I didn’t think spies got nervous,” you replied.

Juyeon paused his handiwork to meet your eyes, an eyebrow raised. “We don’t. I can disarm a bomb anytime. Get information out of the least willing witnesses. But you. You make me nervous,” he retorted. His words caused your breath to catch in your chest, eyes widening slightly at his candour.

You allowed Juyeon to finish tending to your wounds in silence, thinking better than to provoke him again. You weren’t sure what you would say if he responded to your questions like that again, so you decided to not say anything at all. When he finished, you thanked him quietly and let him wrap your torso to support the injury on your ribs. Silently, you watched him tend to his own, much milder, wounds.

“You’re very soft,” you observed as Juyeon quietly put his first-aid kit away and brought you some water. He was far more graceful than you had expected him to be. “The way you move and handle yourself. I know you’re stealthy because of your job, but your movements are very controlled and elegant.”

Juyeon took a seat next to you, handing you a glass of water. Despite everything the two of you had gone through, it felt very comfortable and natural to sit with him like that. “I used to be a dancer,” Juyeon said. You perked up at his confession. “When I was younger. It was all I wanted to do.”

“I can see you as a dancer,” you said, tilting your head slightly, as if imagining Juyeon standing on a large stage and performing. “You have that air of control about you; like you do a lot with your body,” Juyeon hummed. Feeling the need to level with him, you opened up more. “I used to want to be a magician.”

Juyeon burst out in laughter. “You’re kidding,” he accused in disbelief.

“I’m dead serious,” you swore. “I wanted to be a magician. Not a real wizard or someone with real powers, I just wanted to convince people that I could do magic,” you explained.

Juyeon perked up at your words. “A magician,” he murmured, as if trying to picture you with a top hat and a fake wand as a child. “I see that. You always have something up your sleeve whenever we’re on the same mission.” Juyeon recalled.

You smiled. “Sorry about that.”

Juyeon’s eyes shimmered with amusement. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you agreed reluctantly. “It’s one of the few talents I have. Other than elite espionage.”

Juyeon laughed. “God, you’re good at your job,” he sighed. “How is it that you beat me every single time we have the same mission?” he wondered, giving up on trying to pretend like he didn’t know you were the better spy. “Level with me on this. Every single time.”

“I’m good at reading people,” you shrug. “After a while, I got to know how you thought and how you problem solved. Then, it just became a matter of being a step ahead of you.”

“Which you always are,” Juyeon shook his head in disbelief. “Right when I’m about to act, you’ve already finished the job.”

“Like I said, magic tricks and espionage are my only talents,” you reminded him. “It just comes easily to me. Some people are great painters. I’m great at… physical combat? Logistics? Fooling people?”

“I think you’re an overachiever,” Juyeon mentioned it so casually that you actually laughed.

“Maybe so,” you mused, a grin playing on your lips. “Or I just really like winning.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Juyeon said, nodding to himself. “Everything between you and I is a competition, and you always win.”

“Not everything between us is a competition,” you whispered.

Juyeon smiled slightly, closed-lipped and slightly forced. “I wish that were true,” he replied.

You supposed he was right. In terms of your careers as spies, most of the times you met it was due to having the same mission. This meant that a large part of what made up your relationship was the competitive drive you felt whenever the two of you were together.

Perhaps that was why you tried so hard to deny the fact that you returned his feelings for you.

You sighed. “I wish that I never knew you were a spy,” you mumbled, hugging your legs and resting your head atop of your knees, your glass of water set on the coffee table. “I wish that you and I met at,” you thought about it. “A coffee shop. Or university. Or somewhere else, I don’t know.”

Juyeon nodded in agreement, following suit and mirroring the position you were in, resting his chin on his knees. “Me too,” he agreed. “I wish that I didn’t have to hide you here. Hide you from your horrible boss Mrs Kwon, and my team…” Juyeon groaned. “My team. Oh god, I have no idea what I’m going to tell them.”

“Right,” you recalled. “This was your mission. To get information from me,” you said, the thought making you pout subconsciously. “I’m a mission.”

“You’re not a mission,” Juyeon denied. “You were a part of my mission.”

“Two hours ago, you were pointing a gun at my head,” you reminded Juyeon, raising an eyebrow. “I’m a mission, Juyeon.”

“You’re not,” Juyeon insisted. “You’re… special to me. You’re not an object or an assignment. You’re a person.”

“This is so messed up,” you buried your face in your knees, willing everything to disappear around you. “Up until this morning, you were just the guy that I flirted with during missions.”

“That’s all I was to you?”

“No,” you admitted. “But that’s all our relationship was. Now, I’m on the run from my boss, who’s trying to kill me, and you’re hiding from your team, who assigned you to basically kidnap me for intel.”

“Why do you work for her?” Juyeon wondered. “She’s dangerous, and you’re doing missions for her.”

You shook your head. “You don’t get it,” you told him. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then simplify it.”

“Drop it, Juyeon.”

“Why?” he exclaimed. “You’re putting yourself in danger for somebody who wants you dead, and you don’t want to tell me why?”

“You’re right, I don’t want to tell you why.”

“Fine,” Juyeon huffed, purposely moving his body so he wasn’t facing you head on anymore. “I just saved your life and you still don’t trust me.”

“Do you trust me?” you retaliated.

Juyeon’s silence was enough to answer that one.

“Then we’re back to square one,” you rolled your eyes, moving your legs to stand up. “How-“ you cut yourself off with a cry of pain, having forgotten how badly you injured your ribs in the car blast.

You fell back against the sofa, Juyeon leaping to his feet to help you sit back down. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice rushed as his eyes flitted across your body, searching for any visible sign of pain.

Your eyes clenched closed as your severely bruised ribs throbbed, the sharp pain slowly fading now that you weren’t moving your upper body. When you opened your eyes again, you met Juyeon’s deep brown gaze. His expression had softened when he realised you were no longer in immense pain, and his close proximity made you glance down to his thin, pink lips.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Juyeon whispered, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he spoke. “Is that okay?” you nodded, not finding the words to reply to him; drawing him in with your eyes.

He leant forward, bracing his hands on the sofa on either side of your body, lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and his touch felt familiar despite it being your first kiss with him. You exhaled a sigh through your nose, relishing in how close Juyeon was when he normally felt so out of reach from you. Pulling him closer, you threaded your fingers gently through his hair, parting your lips to deepen the kiss.

This closeness, the fact that Juyeon was within your grasp, caused warmth to blossom in your chest and stomach. For as long as you could remember, your attraction to and feelings for Juyeon had always been pushed to the back of your mind; a fantasy you would never reach. And here you were, wrapped in his embrace.

Waking up in Juyeon’s bed was heaven.

Of course, your whole body felt sore from the impact of hitting the ground after the explosion, and you still couldn’t stand up properly without it hurting due to your ribs. But still, you felt satisfied.

“Hey,” Juyeon greeted, running his fingers through your hair, eyes bleary from sleep. “You okay?” You nodded, wordlessly tracing shapes onto his t-shirt covered chest, not wanting the moment to end. “Your wounds look like they’re closing,” he mused, searching your body. “I think a shower might be due.”

After setting you up with a towel and clothes to change into, you stripped your t-shirt off – having gotten rid of your cargo pants for comfort the night before – and made your way into the bathroom to shower.

Your reflection looked awful.

You had several cuts, bruises, and lacerations on your body from the impact, and you ribs were terribly swollen after you unwrapped it, blue bruises forming across it. Wincing, you hopped into the shower and scrubbed all of the dirt and dried blood from your skin. After using Juyeon’s shampoo and body wash, your chest felt warm and cozy as his scent filled your nose.

After lying in bed for a few extra minutes, Juyeon decided to clean up a little. He made his bed and picked up your clothes from where you had carelessly dropped them in his living room the night before. He paused, feeling the cold touch of a small metallic object in one of the inner pockets.

The USB.

Juyeon hesitated, not sure what to do with it.

A part of him wanted desperately to pocket the small device, a deep desire within him begging him to finish his mission and do the right thing. He knew that the USB falling into the wrong hands would be detrimental to the safety and wellbeing of many government officials and innocent citizens.

Another part of him wanted to tuck it back into the pocket he found it in. The information on the USB could only be encrypted for a short period of time. If Juyeon did nothing, then the information would disappear in 30 hours. He would preserve the progress he made with you the night before and  could make other plans to protect you from Mrs Kwon.

Juyeon didn’t realise how long he held the USB in his palm. Your footsteps snapped him out of his daydream.

“You found it,” you said, too shocked to continue towel-drying your hair. You had gotten changed into one of Juyeon’s long sleeved t-shirts, sweatpants, and socks after your shower. Had it not been for the situation at hand, Juyeon might have told you how stunning you looked in his clothes. “What are you gonna do with it?” you asked him, biting your bottom lip.

Juyeon glanced up, stepping towards you. “Nothing,” he replied, pressing the USB into your hands. He closed your fingers over it, covering your closed fist with his own hand. “I don’t need to do anything about it.”

The moment was ruined as the front door to Juyeon’s apartment was kicked down, several agents and elite spies from Mrs Kwon’s organisation making their way into the living room, guns pointed at the two of you. “Minho,” you said calmly, recognising your team leader.

Minho’s eyes had hardened as he observed the position you and Juyeon were in. “What were you thinking?” Minho asked, his voice unnervingly calm. “Why would you come here with him instead of going back to headquarters? You had a mission, Y/n.”

“She was hurt,” Juyeon defended your actions. “Her car exploded just metres away from her. I wasn’t just going to bring her back to your headquarters after your boss tried to blow her up.”

Minho watched the way you quickly pulled your hand out from under Juyeon’s, raising both of your hands in the air. Juyeon followed your actions, curious about why you were surrendering so easily.

“This is interesting,” Minho mused. “Is this why you keep failing your missions?” he asked Juyeon, tilting his head and mocking him with his words.

“What are you talking about?” Juyeon asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re purposefully failing so that Y/n can succeed?” Minho said it in a teasing tone, as if he was revealing Juyeon’s crush during recess in the playground.

“No,” Juyeon denied. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“She can’t be that good of a spy,” Minho retorted. “She’s beat you out on seventy eight missions over four years.” You remained silent, unsure of what to say with so many guns pointed in your direction. “How long have you been together for?”

“Stop it,” you interrupted. “Are you going to fight me, Minho?” you asked.

Minho had been your team leader for almost three years. You had each other’s backs, and the fact that he and the rest of the spies from your organisation were pointing guns at you didn’t sit so well with you.

“I might,” Minho admitted. “If you don’t hand over the USB.”

“I can’t do that,” you said. “Mrs Kwon tried to kill me for this, I’m afraid I won’t just let go of it so easily,” you admitted.

“Please,” Minho rolled his eyes. “That car blew up after your little boyfriend stole it from Phil. He clearly planted it. Why would Mrs Kwon put an explosive in your car? You’re her best agent, and she wants those files,” he recalled. “Forgive me if I just don’t buy it, Y/n.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “I forgive you.”

You turned, nodding at Juyeon and balanced your weight across your feet before you leapt at Minho, swinging your arm in a punch. Juyeon followed suit, turning to kick the guns out of your colleague’s hands and ducking under their jabs. You took on Minho alone, since he was the team leader and the most experienced spy on the team other than yourself.

Usually when you fought with Minho, it was sparring during training; honing in your skills and building each other up. Now, you were fighting to get away from somebody you used to consider close to a friend. “You sold out,” you accused Minho, kicking his gun away from where he had dropped it during your fight.

“So what if I did?” Minho replied, raising an eyebrow. “You think you’re always a step ahead of everyone, but this time, I was,” he added, striking you in your torso. You yelped, falling to the ground as the pain in your already injured ribs intensified. “Any more tricks up your sleeve? Or just a fractured rib?”

“Asshole,” you exclaimed, biting your tongue to suppress more shouts of pain. You struggled to fend off Minho’s advances. He was larger, stronger, and in better condition than you were. Even when the two of you sparred during training, you could only ever win against Minho if you outsmarted him somehow.

Getting to your feet, you tucked your hair behind your ears and squared your shoulders. Minho approached you, diving with his hands stretched towards your torso; by that point, he had realised that you were injured and had a weak spot. You blocked it easily, using the momentum of Minho’s slight stumble to aim your fist at his jaw. Minho exclaimed in pain, falling to the ground and holding his jaw.

You risked a moment to look at Juyeon, who was easily taking on two men at once. The swift and calculated manner Juyeon moved in reminded you of how he said he wanted to be a dancer when he was younger. This, you could easily believe after seeing him in action.

You struck Minho further while he was disoriented from your hit to his jaw, not letting the gruelling pain in your ribs stop you from doing your best to defend yourself. Minho pushed you against the wall, both of your actions getting sloppier from the injuries you were both sustaining.

“Enough,” you exclaimed, taking the USB from where you stashed it in your pocket and holding it out of the open window. Juyeon and Minho audibly cursed, everyone stilling at your bold choice. “One more step, and I drop it,” you warned, the sound of the traffic outside reminding everyone that a car would immediately drive over the USB if you dropped it.

“Y/n,” Juyeon said slowly. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Listen to your boyfriend,” Minho agreed. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“Regret?” you echoed. “I almost got blown up because I had this. You think I’ll miss this thing when it’s gone? The only person who loses out would be you,” you told Minho. “This is your recovery mission.”

“Juyeon!” a shout came from the hallway leading up to his apartment. You turned, seeing Sangyeon, Kevin, Jacob, and Haknyeon rush into Juyeon’s apartment. They seemed to have realised where Juyeon was soon after Mrs Kwon’s team had, and were shocked at the scene in front of them. “Are you hurt?” Sangyeon asked, causing Juyeon to shake his head.

“The rest of your boyfriend’s team is here,” Minho drawled. “So, what’s it going to be, Y/n? Are you going to hand it over to me, or him?”

“Why do I need to hand it over to anyone?” you retorted. You had kicked Minho’s weapons out of his reach, and now that Sangyeon and his team were there, Minho was outnumbered. He wasn’t likely to try anything stupid. “What are you going to do? You can’t win this one, Minho.”

Juyeon watched with bated breath as you opened your palm, dropping the USB from the twenty-fourth floor of his apartment building. Sangyeon and Minho gave angry shouts at your action and you stepped away from the window, opening both of your hands to show your empty palms.

Minho moved forward, his fist colliding with the side of your face. You fell to the floor, Juyeon yelling as he ran towards Minho. Sangyeon held him back, stopping him from doing anything he might regret. “I’ll deal with you later,” Sangyeon told him. Juyeon startled; Sangyeon had never looked at Juyeon with so much disappointment before.

Your chest heaved with deep inhales as you tried to catch your breath, propping yourself up using the wall behind you. “And what about you?” you asked Minho, raising an eyebrow; challenging him. “Are you really going to go to Mrs Kwon empty-handed? The USB is gone. About ten cars have crushed it into the road by now. She’s not going to want me, dead or alive. She’s going to want the team leader that let her precious files slip through his fingers.”

Knowing you were right, and seeing how Sangyeon and his team had outnumbered him, Minho glared at you before fleeing from the scene, most likely going to hide from Mrs Kwon and her resources. Sangyeon didn’t stop him; Minho was of no interest to him now that he didn’t have the USB, and he was from a different organisation. Elite spies aren’t a part of law enforcement; he wasn’t going to chase after Minho like a police officer would.

“You don’t know what you’ve just done,” Sangyeon accused you, seething with anger. “You’re protecting Mrs Kwon under the facade that you don’t care what happens to the information on that USB.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Juyeon added quietly. “You were almost killed for that, twice. Don’t you think we could have used what’s on there?”

You nodded. “I suppose you’re right. It’s a good thing I always have,” you pulled the USB out from under the sleeve of Juyeon’s long-sleeved t-shirt that you were wearing, an ode to the many magic tricks you learned as a kid when you dreamed of being a magician. “A trick up my sleeve.”

“We can trust Y/n,” Juyeon insisted, rushing after Sangyeon and Kevin as they led you out of his apartment complex to their SUV. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. Mrs Kwon tried to kill her!”

“Except she has done things wrong,” Sangyeon retorted. “Y/n’s boss is corrupt, Juyeon,” he informed. “Mrs Kwon has been giving government and civilian security details to the highest bidder. That’s the reason her company is the best in the world. They sell private information for profit, and hundreds of people have died for it.”

Juyeon felt his heart drop to his stomach at Sangyeon’s confession. “That’s her boss, not her,” he tried to defend you as best as he could. “It’s a job, Sangyeon.”

“Elite espionage doesn’t exist for the rich to play games with innocent people for money,” Sangyeon snapped. “Our organisations exist so that we can protect people and put away bad guys.”

“I agree,” you voiced, causing Sangyeon’s eyes to meet yours as you neared the car. Despite his harsh gaze, you weren’t intimidated by him. You had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. “Believe me, that’s why I took this job.”

Sangyeon studied your expression, trying to find a hint that you were lying or deceiving him. Then, he held his hand out to you. “I’ll take that USB,” he said. You gave it to him, seeing no point in trying to keep it from him at that point. Minho and the other spies from Mrs Kwon’s agency were long gone, and Sangyeon and his team wouldn’t be able to crack the code without you anyway. “Get in,” Sangyeon told Juyeon. “We’re going to headquarters.”

If Sangyeon wanted to take you to CKR, you had no reason to fight him.

“What’s the status?” Sangyeon asked Chanhee, who had been working on decrypting the files on the USB for over an hour.

You and Juyeon had been driven to CKR headquarters in seperate cars. Kevin did his best to be kind to you, but you remained silent and allowed him to lead you to a simple room with a one-way mirror in it.

Juyeon had debriefed the team on exactly what had happened when he tried to bring you to headquarters the night before. Sangyeon remained unimpressed that Juyeon hadn’t immediately brought you to them, and scolded him for taking away an extra 15 hours of time they could have used to decrypt the files and question your organisation’s best spy.

“There’s over 200 digits in the password,” Chanhee explained, still typing out potential passwords onto the laptop in a blank document. “There’s only three chances before the files self-destruct. I already used one of our chances, and I don’t want to try again until I get a better idea of what it could be,” he said, lush lips stuck in a concentrated pout. “It would help if I knew anything about Mr Kim, but he seems to be a pretty elusive man. Does’t have much of an online presence, which makes sense since he’s in charge of cybersecurity.”

Sangyeon sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache was coming on. “If Mrs Kwon was willing to kill Y/n to keep this information out of her hands, we need to get to it,” he said.

“What’s on it?” Eric wondered from his place on the sofa, playing a game on his phone.

“I don’t know,” Sangyeon shook his head at the youngest. “Boss won’t say.”

“Maybe we should ask Y/n,” Kevin suggested. “If Mrs Kwon wanted to keep it out of her hands specifically, maybe she thought that Y/n could crack the code?”

Sangyeon had already thought of this option, but he didn’t want to have to bring you in. “She works for that awful lady,” he reminded his team. “I don’t trust her.”

Juyeon frowned. “What’s she ever done to make you distrust her?” he wondered. “Other than the fact that she works for an organisation that we think is corrupt? Most of the missions she was on were ones that you sent me on, too. That means that she’s been doing a lot of good during her career in espionage,” he pointed out.

“Bring her in,” Sangyeon decided, sending both Jacob and Kevin in to collect you. You soon appeared, wincing as you limped your way over to the team leader. Your bruised ribs had probably become fractured from your fight with Minho, and any other contusions you had sustained from the fight were starting to bruise a deep purple. Juyeon wanted nothing more than to rush over to you, but he figured this would be the wrong move.

“Can you solve this?” Sangyeon asked you, pointing at the screen.

You shrugged. “I can’t be sure,” you admitted. “But I have a pretty good hunch.”

“Which is?”

“I got to know Mr Kim personally before the event two nights ago,” you explained. “Before he started his career in cybersecurity, he was a chemistry major at Yonsei University for his undergraduate degree. He used to go on and on about how he had to memorise all these different formulas and numbers to pass his exams,” you recalled. “But there was one thing he was particularly proud of, something that none of his classmates could do.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the first 300 digits of Pi,” Chanhee said, frowning. “Because that would be so boring. I could do that when I was eleven.”

You shook your head. “He can recite the atomic numbers of every element on the periodic table,” you told the cryptologist. “In order.”

“Pull up a picture of the periodic table,” Sangyeon ordered to Sunwoo, who quickly complied and pulled it up to the large screen in the centre of the room. “Chanhee?”

“On it,” he mumbled, already typing in the numbers in order. When he was done, he stared at the screen in surprise. “The number of digits perfectly fits,” Chanhee told his team leader. “Do you want me to enter it?”

Sangyeon glanced over at you. “I don’t suppose you made up an elaborate lie that just so happened to work in your favour?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I had that kind of a trick up my sleeve,” you admitted. “But no. I’m not lying.”

Sangyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Alright,” he agreed. “If Juyeon trusts you, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this once. And we always have one more try, then I’ll know for sure if you were lying.”

Sangyeon gave Chanhee the okay to give in the password. Chanhee tapped on the enter key, a grin forming on his lips as he started typing frantically. “I’m in,” he said, causing cheers to burst out around the room.

The boss of the CKR spy agency entered the room, pleased to see the success that Sangyeon’s team had during their mission. “That sounds like good news,” he said, causing all the members of the team to bow in greeting of their boss.

“Yes, sir,” Sangyeon confirmed. “We just got into through the encryption with 28 hours to spare.”

“That’s wonderful work,” their boss complimented, smiling at them all.

“Y/n provided important details about Mr Kim’s life that helped us,” Sangyeon added, surprising you. “Without her help, we wouldn’t have been able to figure it out.”

“Excellent work, Y/n,” the CKR boss complimented, reaching over to shake your hand.

You beamed. “Happy to help, sir,” you told him cheerily. “After all, it is my job,” you reminded him with a wink.

The room went silent as Sangyeon’s team stared at you in shock. “I knew I made the right choice trusting you,” the CKR boss told you, looking proud. “There aren’t many people that can outsmart Juyeon on his missions, as well as work undercover long enough to deeply infiltrate Mrs Kwon’s organisation.”

“Did you just say work undercover?” Juyeon wondered, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

“Yes,” his boss admitted. “I hired Y/n five years ago to infiltrate Mrs Kwon’s organisation and expose her corruption. That’s why these files are so important,” he explained.

“Oh my god,” Chanhee muttered, flicking through the files on the USB. “This traces Mrs Kwon’s online presence, dating back over three years. It’s incriminating information against Mrs Kwon’s organisation; she can be sent to jail for the evidence on here.”

“That’s why she tried to kill you,” Juyeon realised, addressing his words to you. “Because Mr Kim uncovered her online footprints.”

“I told you it wasn’t so simple,” you reminded him, giving him your best smile. Juyeon beamed. He often wondered if he was naïve for trusting you, but you had proved to him that you were worth the risk. A double agent. Somehow, Juyeon felt incredibly proud of you.

“Thank you for your hard work, Y/n,” CKR’s boss thanked you. “And now that we have what we need on Mrs Kwon, I’d love for you to continue working here for my most elite team,” he invited you.

“That’s us!” Eric exclaimed happily, now solving a Rubik’s cube upside down.

“As long as they’ll have me, I’d love to,” you told your boss.

Everyone glanced over at Sangyeon, who had the final say on any new members as the team leader. After seeing your skillset that day, everyone on the team was excited to work with you. You had something to offer in almost any area they specialised in. Plus, you were a fairly famous spy amongst the different agency; known as the best of the best. Sangyeon seemed to be struggling to comprehend the situation, having gone through a pretty confusing day.

“So you’re been working for CKR all this time?” he asked. You nodded. “And you’ve been gathering information on Mrs Kwon to use against her with Mr Kim from cybersecurity?” Another nod. “And you really did outsmart Juyeon on all of his missions?”

“I’m afraid so,” you confirmed.

Sangyeon seemed stunned. “Then I think you’d make a good addition to the team,” he agreed. Kevin and Eric cheered, excited that someone as well-known in the spy community as you would be a part of their team. You were infamous around CKR for always outsmarting their best team, and it turns out that you were CKR’s best asset all along. Your boss said his farewells, allowing you to get to know your new team better.

“I can’t believe all of this,” Juyeon breathed out in surprise, helping you onto one of the sofas in the back of the room, careful of your injured ribs. “You’re…”

“A double agent?” you filled in for him.

“…Even more amazing than I thought,” Juyeon finished his train of thought. You grinned, letting Juyeon press a kiss to your cheek and hug you. “And always a step ahead of me, it seems,” he kissed you gently.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Younghoon mumbled, wincing at the sight of you and Juyeon kissing.

“My little magician,” Juyeon sighed happily against your lips, pulling away to beam at you. His eyes, tired and worn out from the last two days, glimmered with excitement. “This is so much better than competing against you.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and hugging him tightly, wincing slightly at the impact on your ribs. “Who says we’re going to stop competing?”

note: here is the long anticipated full version of my spy!juyeon timestamp!! i hope you guys enjoyed it! it wasn’t super romantic like the other ones but i hope i capture the spy juyeon concept i was going for well :)

[saturatedboy]

Hai! I have another request ( if it's okay ) can you do a donna x fem pirate reader where Donna is just wondering around with Angie when she found a portal to another dimension that leads to a beach where the reader's ship is alongside the shore then they went to inspect it but ended up being caught by the crew and brought her to the captain of the ship ( which is the reader )

Donna Beneviento X F!Reader

Quick talk, this will be in two parts. I missed some of your idea to keep for the next part because I had ended up getting caught in writing this that I completely forgot to check through the request again. My deepest apologise for that but I promise to have the next part up soon.

Part 2- https://saturatedboy.tumblr.com/post/657437883445166080/donna-beneviento-x-fempiratereader

Requests: Open

Words: 3k

The fragrance of sugar and chocolate had diffused around the small room. Sat back in her chair was none other that Lady Beneviento, Donna. Brining the china cup up to her slightly chapped lips, she sipped the Earl Grey tea and sighed in delight as the steaming liquid ran down into her stomach system. Gently placing her cup down, she looked to the other side of the small round table that was surrounded by nature's plants. At the other end was Angie, the doll, chewing down on some Victorian sponge cake. Donna raised her dainty hand to her lips to hide the small smile that had sketched itself onto her face. Keeping her lips pursed together, she held in the chuckle that threatened to escape from Angie having some icing around her mouth. Pushing the chair out, the metal scraping amongst the wooden floor, Donna had raised herself out from her chair and walked over to Angie, picking up a napkin that was settled in the middle of the table.

Making her way towards Angie, she took the doll's head within her hand and dapped at the white smooth icing that had coated her mouth. "I know you can't feel but please do try to be careful when eating." Donna spoke softly, folding the used napkin up and placing it next to Angie's now finished plate.

"Yeah yeah, I know. But now we have had our afternoon tea, I think it's time for an adventure!" Gliding up from her own chair this time, which was stacked with books so Angie could reach the table when sat, the doll had grabbed it's toymakers hand and whooshed out through the many corridors.

"Angie, I wasn't finished with my drink," The whine came from Donna's mouth, her veil flying behind her unmasked  face as she tried her best to keep up with her doll's quick speed when flying. Angie however completely ignore the cries of Donna and dragged her to he front of the manor by the cloak rack. A stern look had edged its way onto Donna's features as she was still upset about her tea going cold.

"I will make you more after a walk in the woods!" Angie swirled herself around the cloak rack and grabbed a black cloak for Donna to ear. Twirling herself around Donna, Angie placed the cloak on and tied the front into a bow. "There now lets go!" Donna shook her head slowly and flipped her veil over her face, only to follow Angie out of the manor, still wishing she could of finished her cup of tea.

"10 green bottles on a wall...10 GREEN BOTTLES ON A WALL!" Donna mentally screamed in her head as she listened to Angie scream. Although her behaviour would be accepted in the manor, Donna was very against of any attention outside her territory, which to her was mostly the manor.

"Angie, please keep it down a little," She whispered, closing her eyes as she followed the familiar path through her woods. Angie groaned loudly and dropped her arms to place weight onto her float. She let her eyes turns about as she started to spin in the air to give herself entertainment since she wasn't allowed to be loud.

"Spinning I am, spinning indeed." Angie talked to herself as she continued spinning, completely unaware of Donna having her eyes closed behind her veil as she herself was subconsciously following Angie's voice. As Angie was spinning, being unaware of her surroundings, she came connected to a rather large tree that had branches sprouting far and wide. "OW!" She screeched, altering Donna of the sudden pain. Donna opened her eyes and hurried towards Angie who was now sat on the dirt floor looking up at what she knocked into. "WOAH!" She cried out as she was back up floating around the large trunk. "When were you going to tell me you have a huge tree!?" She questioned Donna, circling around the trunk once and gliding towards Donna to settle onto her shoulder.

"I...didn't." Much just like Angie, Donna was also curious about the tree. She knew her territory like the back of her hand and she was more than sure that this tree had just came out of nowhere. Kneeling down onto the slightly soggy dirt, she inspected the large roots that were coted in a slimy orange substance. Dragging a finger through the slime, she fiddled with it between her index and thumb. "How strange, I haven't seen anything like this before."

"Oooooo maybe it's magic!" Angie threw her hands wide, her head doing a full 360 as she wriggled herself about on Donna's shoulder. Donna wiped the substance off her fingers onto the ground, pulling herself back onto her feet as she stared through her black veil at the now growing orange. "Erm Donna, what did you do?" Angie asked, watching as the orange had sprouted its way higher up the tree from the roots, to the trunk and so on, accompanied by a slight rumbling erupting from what sounded like inside the trunk.

"I have no idea Angie!" Shielding herself and Angie with her hands by crouching and hugging Angie close, Donna closed her eyes as the orange glow grew lighter and brighter in colour, changing into a warm white. She felt her body became much warmer as her head began to spin. Not knowing what was going on, she felt the faint touch of breeze brushing through her cloak. Letting herself fall onto her side, Angie still in grasp, Donna curled around and let whatever was going on to happen.

"-off mine. Go scrub the lower decks Decker."

"And why should I! I was only takin' a look!" Donna groaned as she felt the sudden feel of sickness wash over her body. She curled tighter as she felt like her body was swaying side to side. Trying to pride her eye open, she was met with the once darkness she had remember seeing from when she was first experimented on with the Cadou. A deep feeling of fear washed over her

"Because I'm the captain and you don't want to make the Captain angry now do ya boy?" Donna's fear increased at the sound of the voice. It was dripping in venom and threats that even she felt frightened of. The voice wasn't familiar either and the accent was one she hadn't heard before, Donna could've swore she knew everyone from the village, even the small children that had wished to see her to make flowers crowns with her when the festivals would be around.

"No ma'am-"

"Captain Decker. I am your Captain. Now off ye go boy before I get Slasher on ya. Beat it." The noise of heavy footprints had sped past Donna's head as she kept still, trying to keep her breathing to a minable. As far as she was now aware, whoever this captain was should be the only person left with her- wait no. Angie....where was Angie? More heavy footprints has walked past her head but whoever this pair has stopped right next to her head. Donna kept still on her side, not daring to even open her eyes in fear her veil may not be covering her face.

Silence was between all of them.

...

"I know you're awake~" The same voice, the Captain's voice this time was right above her ear making Donna squirm under the heat that came from the mouth. Shaking in anticipation, Donna shot her upper body up and pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small against the new person she has came in contact with. Looking up and keeping her eyes wide, she was in complete utter shock. In front of her stood a rather tall woman. Above average height she would compare her height to. Her hair was knotted, having a large Tricorn hat with a white feather place amongst the small nest of hair. A wide grin with small sharp teeth was scarred on the face of the female. She stood tall, a sword hanging from her hip with a long tail coat in white covered her body mostly with the front being open wide. Underneath the tail coat was a white waist coat, hugging the figure perfectly. White tights were worn with brown boots that reached the knee area. Donna's mind flicked to one word and one word only,

Pirate. Just like in the many stories she had read to Angie in the past. In front of her was a pirate, and a good looking one too in her eye. "Say there lassie, ye a long way from home ain't ya?" She spoke loudly, a chuckle rumbling her chest as she stared down at Donna. Donna was beyond speechless, did she transport world? Pirates were made up stories, they belonged in a book but the tree....the tree.

"Donnaaaaaaa," A satisfied sigh left Donna's mouth as she heard the familiar voice of her partner in crime. Looking around her space trying to find where she was, Donna saw blue the surrounded the scratch wood she was on. Looking back at the female pirate, she saw behind her an upper deck that had led to a steering wheel with a large male behind it with a pipe in his mouth. Looking behind herself, Donna saw the bow of what she now knew to be a ship. A sudden grip wrapped itself around Donna's back, a giggle escaping from whoever it was. "Donna we can be pirates! Oh this is a wonderful adventure!" Angie screamed out, squeezing herself under Donna's left arm to hug her from the front instead. Beneviento looked down at Angie, who now had a small hat on top of her grey veil.

"Angie, oh Angie." Donna huffed out as she hugged her doll close, being glad she was safe and not a single scratch on her.

"Gotta say, she's quite the hyper character ain't she. Pretty tough when up against Slasher as well. My mutt was gonna take a swig at 'er head there" Donna glared at the female pirate, feeling invaded and insulted that she would call Angie out on her character so easily like that.

"And you're just a...just a..." Donna threw her head to look back at Angie failing to come up with an insult to fend Angie's honour.

"Don't mind her, she's just head over heels for cute girls like yourself," Donna flicked Angie's head at her sudden words. Donna was sure she wasn't interested in fictional characters. Donna preferred to be clean, not like a pirate who would stay in the dirt and drink beer till they pass out inly to want a 'good time' when it was for their own personal needs. The thought of even dating a pirate sent shivers up her spine.

"I ain't no cute girl, I prefer the words dare devil or even maybe sexy~" The female flirted back, staring directly at Donna. Donna let go of Angie and stood up, her shy demeanour was long gone. She crossed her arms over her chest and threw her veil up not daring to take such immature behaviour from the other. The other had gasped, but not in shock but rather like she had just found treasure.

"Sexy isn't a word to describe such yourself- gosh I don't even know your name."

The pirate smirked, leaning their arm on the grip of their word as she lightly leaned back on her knee. She licked her teeth and smiled peevishly. "The name's (Y/n), however on the sea 'ere the name's Captain Silver-ring." Donna grimaced at the sudden outtake of the 'Captain Silver-ring's hand. She softly knocked it away from herself with her own hand and tutted, Angie watching from the side lines next to a rather buff dog which had seated itself on top of a barrel.

"I prefer it if you didn't touch me (Y/n). Contact by others isn't something I'm much used to." The quick explanation from Donna had created a head tilt from the Captain. She way beyond confused, what was a lassie doing dressed in full black even doing on her boat. Everyone in the area knew that contact was the only quick way to gain any booty, either by stealing or by taking- totally not the same.

The captain slowly nodded her head, a finger drumming on her cheek. "Okay, so ye on my boat with no thoughts of getting any of me treasure? Who are you working for? The Wooden Boot? Maybe you're a stealer for the Crow's Eye. I always knew she would try take me booty." Angie laughed out-loud drawing the attention of all the sailors on board the ship, even Donna.

"She said booty!" Donna covered her eyes slightly, feeling embarrassed. Her she was, a new world with new people and she may end up dying here. Great...just great.

"So if ye not 'ere to steal me booty, why are you 'ere then?" (Y/n) asked suspiciously as she then began to circle Donna, making her feel smaller than ever. Under the intense glare that (Y/n) gave out, Donna could only whimper slightly until the same light headed feeling came back to her just like before she came to be transported here.

"I don't know, I just somehow got here." Donna mumbled, letting herself drop to her knees with her head hung down. (Y/n) waited and stared at Donna, only getting bright eyes when she signalled everyone off top deck. Hurried feet ran down below, leaving just the captain, Donna, Angie and Slasher on top as night began to roll in.

"I never got ye name," (Y/n) said, kneeling down but keeping distance away from Donna after remembering she didn't like contact.

"I'm lady Beneviento-"

"A LADY! Oh my gosh, Where are my manners." Donna raised a brow as she lifted her head, it swirling around a bit, and watched as (Y/n) bowed.

"My Lady Beneviento-" A quiet gasp came from Donna's mouth. Never in her life was she ever called by 'my'- it was oddly comforting.  "-I am Captain Silver-Ring, name belonged to me mother who used to be the greatest pirate of all times. I am in her place as Captain of the white vessel, I strive to find the treasure she never found."

Angie began to bounce up and down, the sudden energy that surrounded them all made her giddy- especially the loudness of (Y/n)'s voice. "An what is that treasure?!" Angie asked excitedly, seemingly slightly affected by the same feeling of Donna with the light headedness as she would use her hands to steady herself straight.

"Well, it's simple- kinda." Donna waited for an answer, her vision slightly blurring as she looked up at the Captain who was now on two feet. Swinging her sword out, she raised it high as the sunset light had bounced off the silver blade. "And that is to find the perfect woman to be with forever!"

Just like she was hit with cupid's arrow, Donna fell suddenly to the ground and felt the same sickness run over her body. She dropped in temperature as she held tightly onto the cloak that covered her body. Closing her eye, she sucked her lips in and bit on them to keep her mouth shut. She didn't feel like throwing up t the moment, gosh no but the burning sensation building up in her stomach would want to beg her to.

Voices rang about in her mind as she curled once again. Letting ridged breaths out through her nose, she no longer smelt the salt that had clogged her nose when she was on that ship. Instead a smell of pine and mud filled her senses. Staying laying down, Donna waited until she felt like she could move and not throw up. Expecting when she opened her eye to be faced with the cocky smirk of the pirate, she was surprised to find Angie- without a pirate hat- looking down at her. "Looks like we are back home." She said, letting herself glide up into the air.

Donna closed her eye and re-opened it. Indeed this was her home. The smell of the mud was familiar to know. Pushing herself up, light headed still evidence within her mind, she watched as Angie looked behind her. "Ya know, that was quiet the adventure. I think we should do it again tomorrow!" Angie exclaimed as she pointed at something. Following her finger, Donna looked behind herself to realise the tree that had gotten themselves into that mess was still there.

"I think I'll skip." Donna said, letting herself lay in the mud. Angie hovered right over Donna, looking down at her with a smirk.

"Too afraid to face Captain Silver-ring?" She teased, wagging her finger at Donna making fake kissing noises. Donna scrunched up mud in her hand and threw it at Angie who laughed in returned. With slightly rosy cheeks, Donna protested against the idea of seeing the Captain again. "Okay okay...maybe I'll show Lady Dimitrescu the tree! ooo I bet (Y/n) would love her. A lady who loves danger, how perfect their match would be."

For unknown reasons to herself, Donna couldn't help but scoff at the name of Dimitrescu. "You know what, I will go back tomorrow. Not like we have much to do anyway," Donna dragged out, her scowl still on her face. She wouldn't let Dimitrescu see her, oh no. She wouldn't allow it.

She found Captain Silver-Ring first, she shall be the one to see her again. "Is this you saying you love her~"

"Angie love is a strong word, one I'm sure Pirates don't use. I'm only going to gather more information- who knows maybe mother would like this tree." Donna bit her lip after her sentence. "Or- we just keep this tree to ourselves and leave it like that?" She questioned mostly herself but either way, Angie replied with a grin.

"Maybe we could help her find a lover and we could ask for information in return to give to Mother Miranda!"

"Yeah....lets do..that." As Angie floated away back to the Manor clearly excited for the next day, Donna stayed laid in the mud questioning herself. A sudden flash back of the Captain's grin came into her mind making her hit her cheeks. "No no Donna, you are a Lady. She is a Pirate. A really...really- awkwardly nice pirate." Closing her eye, Donna laid there silently enjoying the look of the Pirate in her mind on repeat. How weird- she was enjoying remembering the new Captain. A new world.

Her now favourite adventure.

[ray-ray-writings]

Wither or Not-Technoblade

#37, 38, and 39 from this prompt list. Check out my masterlist here. 

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! 

Small Author Note: This is out of character for Techno and also, I don’t think Techno has done anything wrong on the server and this is the hill I will die on… That is all.

Techno attempts to explain to his partner just why he betrayed L’Manberg. 

Y/N’s POV

Pain. That’s all I felt. Pain. The high of winning our war quickly came crashing down as the nation that we had fought so hard to win back was blown to bits by none other than the one that created it. And then two withers spawned by the one that promised to help secure it’s freedom. By the one that swore he was on our side… My side. His partner’s side. Technoblade. The Blood God himself had spawned the withers that further caused L’Manberg to fall into ruins. 

The pain was both emotional and physical. I was so exhausted from fighting that I hadn’t been able to make it far enough away from the explosion. I found myself face down in a pile of rubble, ears ringing. I slowly turned myself over and looked up to find Techno’s mouth moving, but couldn’t hear the words. He placed the three wither skulls atop the soul sand and boom! The withers had made their appearance. Tommy was quick to lead a charge to fight them, but I couldn’t move. I was too hurt. 

My heart hurt at the thought of my partner betraying us. My bones ached from the beating I had taken during the day. I watched the wither’s health quickly deplete as many fought it, taking it down. As the wither died, my eyes met Techno’s. I was still lying helplessly on the ground, a pile of rubble propping me up and I’m sure I looked like a wreck. Techno quickly made his way toward me, but I didn’t want him anywhere near me. 

“Y/N” He whispered, kneeling down next to me, moving his hands to cup my cheek. I jerked away from him, hissing at the searing pain that shot through me, but I help my ground, “Don’t fucking touch me,” I hissed out. Hurt flashed through Techno’s face. “Y/N, please.” He pleaded once more, attempting to touch me again, “I’m serious Techno. Don’t you dare touch me. You’ve done more than enough harm for one day.” I barked, my head pounding from the pain caused by the movement. 

“I’m sorry,” Techno pleaded, trying to get me to listen to him. I let out a scoff though, not believing it. “Don’t say that. Not now. Not after you blew up my country… My home. Something I have built with my friends and family to make. Something I have fought many wars over. Something that was special to me. Something that you and Wilbur have now destroyed. You aren’t sorry Techno” 

“Y/N, you have to understand-” “Oh I understand plenty Techno,” I cut the pink haired man off, “You fought by our side. By my side. I trusted you with everything I had and you threw it away.” I snarled, my hand moving to rest on my stomach. I could tell Techno wanted nothing more than to reach down and help me, to touch me, but I couldn’t let him. Not after this. 

“Y/N!!” I heard Tommy scream from somewhere. “I’m here!” I yelped, immediately coughing after due to the strain it caused on my voice. After a few moments, Tommy’s blonde head came into view, worry filling his blue eyes. “Help?” I weakly asked the blonde boy, ignoring the burning holes Techno was drilling into my face with his eyes. Tommy hesitated at the sight of Techno, but then his face filled with determination and quickly made his way to me. 

Tommy nudged Techno out of the way and kneeled beside me. “Are you okay? Can you walk?” He questioned, his eyes scanning my injuries. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. Tommy hummed at the answer and reached into his inventory, pulling out a small pink potion. “Here,” He murmured as he uncorked it. Tommy held the potion to my lips, helping me drink. I could instantly feel the effects of the potion hit me. Some of the pain melted away from my body and a warth came over me. “Better?” Tommy asked, seeing me relax a bit. “Yeah, better. I just want to go home. Can you help me get there… If it’s still there?” I asked the boy. “Yeah, your house is still here. It’s just far enough away that it didn’t get hit. You may have to repair a little siding though” Tommy states as he helped me rise from my position.  

I hissed as I put weight on my feet. My body was still a bit sore, but much less so due to the healing potion’s effects. As Tommy and I stood, Techno also stood. “We’re going to have to go slow,” I warned the tall boy that was helping me. Tommy gave me a goofy grin, “I figured as much, old lady.” he teased. I couldn’t help but smile, Tommy was always good at bringing light to a dark situation. The two of us only got a few steps in before Techno piped up. “Y/N…” We froze. I slightly turned so I could see the pink headed man. Techno seemed to be on the verge of tears, I didn’t care. “Please,” He whimpered, “I love you.” 

I couldn’t help a dark laugh that escaped my mouth at his confession, “Don’t say you love me. You don’t get to betray me like this and then tell me you love me, that’s just pathetic.” I hissed toward the pink headed pig man. I turned back around and Tommy and I continued our journey to my house. 

I let out a groan as Tommy helped me sit down on my bed. “Thanks Tommy,” I thanked the blonde boy with a smile. “No problem Y/N… I’ve got to get back to Tubbo, just let me know if you need anything, okay?” I nodded at Tommy’s words. “Will do big man. And hey, the offer goes both ways. Anything at all, you let me know.” Tommy gave me a smile and nod before turning and walking out of my room. 

I let a sigh as I looked around the room. Everything seemed to be in place, the explosions hadn’t knocked anything down off my walls or disturbed any furniture. My body felt heavy and I just wanted to sleep. But I felt really gross and dirty so I made the decision to shower before I fell asleep. 

The warm water felt nice on my skin and the healing potion was in full swing. My cuts and bruises were slowly healing before my eyes. For many minutes I just stood under the water, contemplating everything that had happened over the past 24 hours. Exhaustion rolled over my body and I couldn’t help but cry. Everything came crashing down on me and I just sobbed for multiple minutes. 

The water turning cold was my signal that it was time to get out of the shower. I quickly shut off the water and dried myself off with the towels I had set out prior to me getting in the water. After drying my body, I held the towel to my eyes and took a few deep breaths, calming myself down from my sobbing session. Once I was steady enough, I put on the clothes that I had brought with me into the bathroom. 

I was surprised to find someone sitting on my bed when I walked out of my bathroom. I was even more surprised that it was the one person I didn’t want to see. “What do you want?” I questioned with a scoff. Techno stood and took a few steps forward. “I just wanted to talk,” Techno pleaded softly. I rolled my eyes and sat down on my bed. “I don’t really want to talk to you,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well then would you please at least listen? Just hear me out?” He begged, wide and pleading. I felt my heart strings tung at his tone. I could never resist Techno’s puppy eyes. “You have one minute.” I deadpanned, bringing my knees up to my chest. 

“Thank you… You were right. Out there. When you said I wasn’t sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for destroying L’Manberg. I warned them what would happen if they formed a government in front of me. And they did it anyway. So I’m not sorry for forming the withers. I am sorry that you got hurt. That was never my intention. I know you didn’t have a hand in the government. The last thing I have ever wanted to do was hurt you. But I have and for that I am so sorry.” 

I felt the tears begin to form in my eyes once more. In my heart I knew Techno was right. He had always been very vocal about hating any form of government and had been very adamant about destroying people with too much power. “I just… I just wish you would have told me. Talk to me about it before you spawned a bunch of withers.” I croaked, the tears falling down my face. Techno hesitantly approached my bed and sat down in front of me. He slowly reached out to touch my face and I let him. Techno’s thumb gently brushed against my cheek as he wiped away my tears. 

“You’re right again,” He spoke softly, his hand stopping motion and just gently resting on my cheek. “I should have talked to you about it and I didn’t. For that I am sorry.” I let out sigh as I leaned into Techno’s touch a bit more. “Thank you for apologizing to me… I just don’t think I can forgive you. Not yet at least. I just need a little bit of time.” Techno nodded in understanding. “Okay, I respect that.” He murmured, “Just… Can I stay here tonight. I promise we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want to hold you.” I pondered to myself for a moment before finally nodding, “Yeah. That sounds nice.” 

Techno smiled gently before helping me lay down slowly. I turned on my side so my back was facing Techno. I felt the bed dip as Techno laid behind me. His arm slowly rested on my side and he pulled himself closer to me. I let out a sigh of relief. Although we’re not 100% great, I couldn’t help but feel better in his arms. Withers or not, I love him. That’s all I know. 

There you go! I hope you enjoy! If so, please be sure to leave a like!