#and i’m sorry for leaving such negative tags on your post

[sseastar]

beep boop: your serotonin mail has arrived

sorry if this is weird but i read your tags on my dinito post and i had to send to something <3

pls no this is not weird at all??? this absolutely made my day omg thank you you’re an angel for sending me these to cheer me up thank you so much omg i cannot thank you enough? i was having such a bad few weeks and something like this really really really did make me feel better, thank you so much ahhh

[drowninginthoughts27]

Hey uhh maybe STOP RATING FICS!!!

[frost-queen]

Effecting herbs (Reader!Bridgerton & Bridgerton siblings)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers   , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly   ,@denkisclown  , @wildieflower   ,@meyocoko    , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl  , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07   , @melsunshine   @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury   ,  @imagines-by-her   ,  @evilcr0ne   , @vviolynn    , @niktwazny303   ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187  , @markive-m  , @lovesanimals0000

Loud stomps on the stairs alarmed your coming. Gregory and Hyacinth standing still on the upper floor. They were making their way downstairs, but paused near the stairs, having heard your loud footsteps. With each foot you stomped louder to make it clear. Dress pulled up slightly to not trip over the hem. With bloated cheeks, you were mumbling under your breath. Hyacinth and Gregory made way for you to let you brush past them.

Once out of reach, Hyacinth turned curious to her brother. – “You think she’s in a mood?” – she asked receiving a glance of her brother that stated the obvious. The two younglings rushed down the stairs to the drawing room, eager to know any gossip that would sure be attached to the appearance of your mood. You knew exactly what door to pick, knowing it would allow you to ramble.

You swung the door open, startling two of your brothers. Benedict and Colin. Stationed across each other, a small round table in between. Porcelain cups for each. Colin looked over his shoulder with a curious frown. You had pressed your back against the door, exhaling loud, slouching a bit through your knees.

“Calling hours already over?” – Colin questioned. – “Has it been productive?” – Benedict asked. Removing yourself from against the door, you paced around them. – “I’m sensing some negativities.” – Benedict spoke with a waving gesture at your aura. It made you groan loud with a hard stare at him. Colin was about to gesture to spill your heart when you already begun spewing your frustrations. – “What is with men?” – you called out. Benedict responding with his body language at your question.

Cup in his hand as he pulled his shoulders up. – “Have… have none been of your liking?” – Colin asked. – “Liking?” – you repeated loud, followed by a puff. – “Is it something about me that makes me attract the most uninteresting of men? Am I that dull-looking?” – you wondered about yourself starting your irritations. – “Were there no interesting topics to discuss?” – Colin wondered, having no clue which men had called upon the house for you.

He had no interest in joining, leaving it all to Anthony and mama to do so. Perhaps they had required his assistance, surely now with two daughters debuting. – “If you call being compared to a bird a topic.” – you answered sarcastically, taking a hold of one of the chairs, to both their side.

Benedict snorted loud, unable to stop himself. Colin sighed disappointed in his brother’s silly response. – “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” – Benedict said waving his hand around. – “Y/n has Anthony not assisted you in the matter?” – Colin wanted to know as your eyes fell upon the tea on the table. – “What are you two tea-gathering about?” – curious what made them decide to share a tea together around four. Colin chuckled nervously, moving his hand over the table to let a little sack disappear.

“Nothing.” – Colin said moving his hand under the table. Benedict leaned a bit more back in his seat, looking with one squinted eye at you. – “Perhaps you need to loosen up? Get that rage out of you.” – he suggested with half a smirk. – “No!” – Colin made clear with a point at Benedict to not suggest what he was thinking. Benedict sighed soft with a roll of his eyes.

“I was merely teasing. I would never let her…” – he began hinting subtly at the tea he was still holding untouched up in his hand. – “A long-wattled umbrellabird he compared me with. What even in heaven’s name is that?” – you outed with frustration plucking the cup of tea from Benedict’s hand. – “Y/n no!” – Colin called out as Benedict lunged forwards, wanting to grab the tea from you.

You took a sip from the tea, tasting it funnily in your mouth. – “I’m not sure whether it was an insult or not!” – you said lowering the cup a bit. Colin cupped his hands underneath it wanting to take it from you as you moved the cup to your lips once more. Benedict wincing in discomfort as he watched you drink the entire content in one breath. Colin took the cup of tea out of your hands, staring inside.

With a soft gulp, he turned the empty cup to his brother to look upon. – “Dear God.” – Benedict breathed out, wiping his hand down his face. – “What?” – you called out confused to your brother’s absurd reactions. Benedict shoved his chair back, coming to stand by you. – “How… how are you feeling sister?” – he asked touching your arm. Colin gave him a slap against his arm.

“It does not take effect so quickly.” – he said between clenched teeth, outraged by the outcome. – “How am I supposed to know?” – Benedict countered throwing his hands up. – “Why did you drop the entire content in the tea?” – Colin shout-whispered trying to keep his composure. – “Why didn’t you stop me?” – Benedict responded in sheer panic. – “I tried!” – Colin made clear with a loud voice.

Your sudden giggling made your brothers look upon you. – “God she is giggling.” – Benedict said, letting his head fall back, scrunching his nose. You started giggling more, shuddering with your shoulders. Colin noticed the blush appearing on your cheeks. He pointed it out with a gesture, looking annoyed at his brother. – “Mend her!” – Benedict let out pushing you a bit in his direction. Colin caught you, looking with wide eyes at Ben.

“What? I can’t mend this?” – he answered as you interrupted him with more giggles. – “It was your tea, you mend her!” – Colin pushed you back to Benedict as you spun into the arms of your brother. – “Benny…” – you said rubbing your cheek against his, arms tight around his neck. – “I wuv you Benny…” – you said dozily as Benedict tried to get you off him. He managed to push you off as you spun dizzily against Colin, making him catch you by your arms.

“It were your herbs!” – Benedict breathed out, pulling his shirt more down. Colin gasped loud at his accusations. – “For you! Not for her!” – he shouted pushing you a bit to the side, so he could see his brother clearer. The hem of your dress caught underneath your shoe as it send you flat down. Falling with a loud thump to the ground.

Your brothers turning their heads worriedly at you. You got back up, flapping your hands against your side, bits of your skirt fluffing up. – “I am quite alright.” – you told them, standing a bit wobbly on your heels. It made them both almost jump at you to restrain your balance. Giggling again. Colin pinched his nose-bridge. – “Anthony cannot see her like this.” – Benedict spoke as a wave of fear washed over him.

If Anthony knew, he’d punish them so gravely they would not see daylight for numerous years. – “Mama!” – Colin gasped out fearing her reaction too. – “Perhaps… perhaps it wouldn’t be as terrible as we think?” – Benedict responded calmly yet at the brink of fearing his poor nerves. A soft ‘whee’ sound came from you. Patting your hands in the air as you twirled around. Dartling around like a butterfly. Benedict’s first response was to slap his palm against his forehead. Colin gaping at the effects of the herbs visible.

They turned back to each other, to continue their bickering. – “How are you going to keep this quiet from mama?” – Colin stated keeping his voice down. – “Me? You mean us!” – Benedict made clear, as Colin had as much blame for it as him. – “You poured it in the tea!” – Colin argued keeping his voice low. – “You brought the lavender herbs!” – Benedict finished.

Colin sighed loud, turning his posture to you. – “Y/n come.” – he said… apparently at a blank wall. Blinking confused and rapidly. Benedict’s eyes widened. – “Where is she?” – he called out in a panic, ducking down a bit to look lower to the ground. – “She has not shrunken!” – Colin shouted annoyed. Benedict straightened his posture. – “Oh really!” – he let out sarcastically ready to throw hands at Colin for being so humouring in such a dire time. Both froze hearing something in the hallway. – “You don’t think?” – Colin started as Benedict feared the same idea.

Pushing each other out of the way, they ran out of the room into the hallway. Benedict gasped loud seeing you on the floor. Clearly having tripped. Colin hastened himself over, pulling you up by your arm. – “For goodness sake Y/n, sober up.” – he whispered in your ear. You let out a hiccup in response. Chuckling amusingly afterwards. The opening of a door made the three of you stare and freeze like deer. Francesca left her room, holding music sheets in her hand.

Eyes glued on the notes scribbled on the papers. – “Francesca!” – you called out, throwing your arms up. It made Colin loose his grip on you. Before he could hold you back, you ran up to your sister. Startling her as you cupped her cheeks, pressing a thick and deep kiss on her forehead.

Benedict made haste, pulling you off Francesca. – “She… she is very excited to see you.” – he said nervously, keeping you behind him. Francesca blinked slowly trying to process the sudden kiss attack. – “Y/n no!” – Colin called out as you had freed yourself from Benedict, running down the stairs. He hastily went after you, groaning at the annoyance of this cat and mouse game. – “Sister! Come back!” – Colin shouted in pursuit. Benedict had smiled sheepishly at Francesca before hurrying after Colin.

“Keep her away from the drawing room!” – Benedict spoke in a panic. – “Keep who away?” – To their dismay turned Anthony up. Appearing as if he sensed something was off. Colin took a hold of your elbow, pulling you closer to him. – “No one… who?” – Benedict answered nervously to his brother. – “You. You said keep her away from the drawing room. Who?” – Anthony wanted to know, already moving his hands to his hip. – “Who?” – Benedict repeated to confuse Anthony.

“You!” – you called out loud with a point at your brother. Colin gave your arm a pull, scowling you for drawing attention. Anthony’s stare was tentative. Observant to say the least. – “What is with her?” – he questioned seeing you get distracted by your own skirt, watching it twirl at your ankles.

Benedict came standing in front of his view, hands up. – “Nothing, why?” – He asked moving his hands under his armpit. Anthony sensed something off, pushing him out of the way. – “She is testing the swiftness of her skirt.” – Colin interfered to say something. Benedict looked questionable over to him.

Colin pulling his shoulders up as it was the best he could think off. Benedict hurried over to the two of you, grabbing you by your arms to push you away. – “Come sister, your dress is most perfect for a sketch of mine.” – Benedict grinned sheepishly over his shoulder to Anthony, hoping he would not find it suspicious. It took Anthony a few thoughtful seconds before shouting Benedict’s name.

“Hurry!” – Colin called out, pushing you harder as they started running to get away from Anthony. There was clearly no fooling Anthony. – “She needs to sober up and very soon!” – Benedict warned Colin. – “I know something.” – Colin huffed out, running through the house with you.

Colin opened the door to the cleaning room. He hastened himself to pick up a bucket and hurry back outside to fetch water. You hugged the doorframe hazily as Benedict moved you away from it. – “I don’t feel so good.” – you mumbled out, feeling lightheaded. Benedict held you by your arm, moving a small stool closer. Pushing you down to sit on it. You sat more to the side, as the stool tipped over, making you fall down.

Benedict pressed his hands worriedly against his cheeks. You did nothing but laugh hysterically. – “Y/n.” – Benedict groaned out, helping you back up. He sat you down as you booped his nose. Smiling high as the sky at him. You then smacked your hands against his cheeks, moving it around, squashing and stretching the skin on his cheeks out of pure amusement. – “Y/n stop that!” – Benedict let out, pulling your hands down. The first reaction from you while feeling this strangely was to cry. – “Oh… no, no, no.” – Benedict called out, not intending for you to cry.

He looked anxiously over his shoulder, begging Colin to hurry up. He began shushing you, wiping your tears away.  – “I’m sorry, sorry sister. Here.” – he took your hands bringing it back to his cheeks. – “You are allowed.” – he rubbed your hands against his cheeks in an attempt that you would continue, yet you just kept crying, not engaging.

“Please Y/n stop crying. I am begging you.” – he responded not wanting to alarm anyone else to this room. You cried even louder, ugly crying as if you were doing it on purpose. Benedict was at the brink of shutting your mouth by covering it up with his hand just to deafen your cries when Colin stumbled inside. A bit of water splashing over the edge of the heavy bucket he was carrying.

“Out of the way!” – he called out, moving the bucket up. Benedict’s eyes widened jumping aside as Colin splashed the water on you. A shower of cold water over you. The sudden shock making you jump up, drenched, sputtering out some water. Colin lowered the bucket out of breath. – “Are you insane?” – Benedict called out to Colin. Clatter teething, you rubbed your arms.

“Co-o-old.” – you stuttered out. Benedict shot Colin a warning glare before fetching you a towel. – “How are you feeling sister?” – Colin asked curious, trying to come closer as you slapped his hand annoyingly away. Benedict wrapped the towel around you. Still feeling a bit out of yourself, it was improving. – “Please don’t tell mama.” – Colin said as you shot him a dead glare.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[readsaboutreid]

Permanent Solution (part II) | S.R.

contains: lots of discussion of suicide, other typical criminal minds violence, heavy heavy angst but a happy ending (i promise!), MORGAN GETS REDEEMED

look i'm sorry to put spencer and reader through so much pain T-T but also i wanted to use my own negative thoughts in a better way than just stewing in them so i adapted them to fit this

i also had someone request that i tag them so i guess if you'd like for me to tag you in future posts lmk and i'll add you onto a taglist! when you request just specify if you want to be tagged for a specific part 2 (or continuation of a specific story) or tagged for any future fics :)

Spencer jolted awake, the faint ringing of his alarm clock dragging him out of sleep. He sat up and rubbed his sore neck, wondering why his alarm sounded like it was in a different room. And then the memories from the previous night came rushing back to him, and he realized that it sounded that way because it was, in fact, coming from a different room. He had fallen asleep on the couch, Dr. Mewshroom taking up (Y/N)’s usual place wrapped in his arms. He checked his phone, no missed calls from her (but about 20 from Garcia, and only one voicemail, also from Garcia), and the clock on its little digital screen told him it was 6:30 AM. He got up and went into the bedroom, checking to see if maybe she had decided against waking him. Anxiety rushed through his veins when he saw the empty bed, and he called her phone again, which rang four times before going to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep.

He swallowed, struggling around the lump forming in his throat. He got a call from Hotch right as he started getting dressed for a day off (much earned after their last case). “I’m sorry, Reid, but I need you and (Y/L/N) here immediately. We have a new case, local, and we need all hands on deck for this one. I need you two in the briefing room in 20 minutes.” Spencer groaned internally at the prospect of back-to-back cases but confirmed that he’d be there. Then, he covered for (Y/N)’s absence. He said that she was sick and couldn’t leave the bathroom for longer than five minutes at a time and that seemed to be all the convincing Hotch would need. “Since the case is local that’s fine, she can join us when she recovers. But get here ASAP, Reid.” Click.

Spencer took a deep breath to calm the anxiety bubbling in his gut and chest. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it hadn’t happened since they had moved in together five months ago. Since she had stopped taking The Walk. He took a deep breath and assured himself that the chances of (Y?N) being missing were slim-to-none.

Spencer walked through the glass doors of the BAU and hurried to the round table, the last one of the team to enter. He nodded to Garcia, Prentiss (who looked like she had a very fun mystery date the previous night), Hotch, and Rossi. He pointedly ignored the greetings of both JJ and Morgan, the latter rolling his eyes slightly at the passive aggressive behavior.

“Reid, glad you could make it. Okay JJ, fill us in,” Hotch nodded to JJ, who stepped forward and placed a file in front of each of them.

"Where's (Y/N)?" Penelope asked Spencer, giving him a confused and worried look. He avoided her gaze as he muttered something about her having a stomach bug while he took his seat.

“Last night, a body turned up in the Anacostia River, near the 11th Street bridge,” JJ began as she placed files in front of each of them. Spencer’s blood ran cold, and his stomach dropped at her words. Not there, anywhere but there.

“It’s the third body they’ve found this month, and the timeframe between bodies seems to be around the same each time, one week. All the victims are female, mid-to-late 20s, and all three had a history of multiple suicide attempts," she explained, pulling up some of the crime scene photos on the projector in front of them.

“Hold up, JJ,” Morgan interjected, “if all three victims have a history of suicidal tendencies, how do we know these aren’t just run-of-the-mill suicides?”

“Each body was disposed of in a large black trash bag,” Hotch explained.

“That and they found evidence of torture as well as ligature marks on the wrist and ankle of each of the victims,” she elaborated, switching the slide to show some of the coroner’s photos. Electrical burns littered the torso of the victim on the slide, and Spencer's stomach churned at the sight. She looked so much like (Y/N) it was uncanny.

“Each victim has a similar build and they've all got the same hair cut and color,” Prentiss observed, “maybe a surrogate for the Unsub’s real target?” Please, no.

"Could be a mother or girlfriend," Rossi speculated. "Do the DC police have any idea of where he's taking his victims from, or is it just the dump site that they know? And are there any witnesses?"

"Until last night, the victims had all been taken from their homes with no witnesses on what the police assume were the same nights the previous victims' bodies had been dumped," JJ answered, "but last night he seems to have escalated and abducted someone straight from the bridge itself according to a nearby eyewitness, a man who had been out for a late night jog. They found this—" she clicked to the next slide, "at the scene, along with the victim's cell phone, both of which have been bagged as evidence and are at the local precinct."

Spencer’s world came to a crashing, burning halt. In the image on the screen was a rather generic looking, but still all too familiar, green knit cardigan and black cell phone with a cracked screen. No one else had seemed to put it together yet, except perhaps Rossi, who had shifted his gaze to Spencer.

"Do we know the identity of the most recent abductee—" Prentiss had started to ask before Spencer had to stand and run to the trash can to vomit.

"That's some stomach virus," Rossi mused, giving Spencer a concerned and knowing look.

"Reid? Are you alri—" Prentiss was cut off again, this time by Hotch.

"Prentiss, Morgan, go to the location where the bodies were found, and the most recent victim abducted. Track down the eye witness through any means possible and interview him. Rossi and JJ, you two head to the precinct. Reid, my office. Now." Hotch issued the orders with a deeper sense of urgency than usual. Spencer stood and shakily walked to Hotch's office after the rest of the team had hurried off, and as soon as Hotch entered and closed the door behind him Spencer’s legs gave out, leaving him to collapse onto his knees.

"Talk,” Hotch said, his tone dangerously quiet.

"(Y/N)'s not sick," he managed to choke out between the gasping sobs that now wracked his chest. "Di-didn't— come home— last night," his words were punctuated by gasping breaths. "M-my sweater— wearing my sweater—" he couldn't breathe, and his vision was like looking through a tunnel, the edges getting darker and pushing in more and more with each second, he struggled to inhale. He shouldn't have gone home last night. He should have gone after her.

"And you have reason to believe she was at the 11th Street bridge?" Hotch questioned.

"She used to walk there every night," Spencer jumped at the sound of Garcia's hollow voice coming from behind him. He hadn't even noticed her come in through his panicked haze. "When she first started here. It's why she always looked so tired those first five months, because she'd barely sleep. She'd walk there and pace back and forth along the bridge. Sometimes she'd just sit on the railing."

"Sh-she hasn't been there in months," Spencer's voice was hoarse, "but last night she— something happened that upset her and she walked off—" another round of sobs forced their way out. "Hotch, he's gonna—" Spencer reached for the trash can next to Hotch's desk and vomited again, and again.

"Spencer," Hotch knelt in front of the young agent, gently moving the trash can to the side. "Deep breaths. I know you're terrified. If you need to take yourself off the case, don't worry. We'll find her."

"Off the case?" He panted, trying to steady his breathing.

"Well you're clearly in no state to be doing much of anything. I don't think anyone on the team would blame you for having to step back on this one," Hotch reasoned.

"What? No, no I've got to find her!" He felt his head clearing a bit as his breathing finally returned to a normal rhythm, his vision slowly returning until he could see the full room properly.

"Reid, are you sure that’s a good idea—"

"Hotch," Spencer interrupted, "I can't just do nothing while he tor—" he reached for the trashcan and vomited yet again at the thought of what the Unsub was going to do to her, what he probably already was doing to her; he was honestly surprised there was anything left for his stomach to throw up at this point. “I can’t just sit by and watch, knowing that every second she’s there with him she’s being subjected to one sort of torture or another.”

Hotch paused and observed Spencer briefly before he rose to his feet and offered Spencer a hand to help him stand, as well. “Take a few minutes to compose yourself and then meet me at the SUV downstairs. We’ll head to the precinct together and you can fill me in on what happened that upset her last night. It might help with the victimology, which you’re going to be working on with me for now since you know (Y/N) better than anyone else.”

“Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer managed to force out, the words quiet and trembling. Hotch left the office and Garcia lingered, giving Spencer a look of pure sorrow.

“I— I’m so sorry, Spencer,” she began, an echo of their conversation outside of the bar last night.

“Garcia, this isn’t your fault,” he responded, continuing the reprisal.

“When you didn’t call me last night I—I just figured that you two had—I don't know—kissed and made up and fallen asleep, I didn’t realize that she never even made it home,” her voice broke on the very last word, and her hand shot up to her mouth as sobs began to escape. Spencer’s legs were still shaky, but he managed to cross the room to her and give her a tight embrace. “I—no, you shouldn’t have to comfort me right now, Spencer, I’m sorry!”

“Consider this me returning the favor from yesterday,” he muttered, his own voice tearful while he kept holding on to her. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Spencer, you have to find her before he can—”

“I know. I will,” he said, trying his very best to sound determined. Instead, his voice came out sounding more like that of a frightened boy than a grown FBI agent.

“What’s going on with Reid?” Emily asked Derek, giving him a quizzical look from the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Last night I sort of went off on (Y/N) after one too many glasses of whiskey and I may have told her nobody wanted her there,” he confessed, shame swirling in his head as he drove. He didn’t really dislike her; he found her demeanor slightly off-putting, but he had felt the same way about Reid when he first joined the team, and she was an excellent profiler, so the least he could do was give (Y/N) the same benefit of the doubt he had given Reid. “Garcia tore me a new one after he had come back into the bar and told us that she had broken things off between them because of my...outburst.”

“Damn it, Morgan,” Emily muttered, flipping through the file in her hands. “You see, this is why we can’t have nice things!”

“Look, look, I know I was wrong about what I said to her, but I can’t turn back the clock. I’ll just have to find her and apologize once she’s feeling better.” They approached the 11th Street bridge, and he stopped the car and put it in park. They both stepped out into the crisp morning air, a light fog slightly obscuring their vision.

“According to the witness statement, this guy was out for a late-night jog when he called the non-emergency police line after seeing a man toss what the was presumed to be trash into the river in a giant black trash bag,” Emily recited what she had read from the file on the drive there. “But he called 911 when he said he heard what sounded like the start of a scream and then saw the struggle before saying the woman went entirely limp. Report says he tried to catch up with the Unsub, who then got into an unmarked black van and drove away.”

"Looks like the CSI team may have missed something," Derek called out to Emily as he caught a glimpse of what looked like an earring and some dried blood under some fallen leaves on the bridge. He snapped a glove onto his hand, and when he pushed the leaves aside he felt his blood run cold. He'd recognize this earring anywhere. "Oh, no."

"I-I like your earrings," a soft, small voice spoke from behind Derek and Penelope as they did their morning flirting routine. They both turned and saw the newest member of the team looking shyly at Penelope.

"Oh these? Thanks! You know, I could make you a pair if you'd like," Garcia smiled at (Y/N), whose eyes widened in panic.

"O-oh! No, don't worry, y-you don't n-n-need to trouble yourself like that!" The young agent hurried off in a panic.

"That was...weird," Derek mused to himself as he walked to his desk.

"I guess she decided to take up Garcia's offer on a pair of her own after all," he muttered, his voice sorrowful.

"What'd you find, Morgan?" Emily asked as she made her way over. "Is that one of Garcia's earrings? How'd that get here?"

"She had offered to make a pair for (Y/N) right around the time she joined the team," Derek explained before looking up to find Emily's face falling at the realization.

"Oh, god," she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Bag that, I'll call Hotch and let him know what we found."

"I'll also call Garcia, ask her to get the address of the witness. We got to get (Y/N) out of there ASAP." Derek pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia.

"What, Derek?" She snapped, and Derek had to fight every urge in his body to playfully argue with her to try to lessen her anger with him. There were more pressing things he had to talk about right now.

"Hey, Garcia, we found something at the scene," he began, "it was, uh, an earring you had made for (Y/L/N) from the looks of it. Got a little bit of dried blood on the post." He took in a deep breath before adding on, "I'm sorry." The line was silent for a minute before she finally spoke again.

"Poor Reid," she whispered, her voice tearful. He could hear her take a shaky breath before she asked, "what, uh, what do you need me to do?"

"I need the address of the witness, a man named Jonathan Levi," he he explained.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I can get that for you right now," she said, her voice growing stronger. He could almost see her wiping her tears from her cheeks as he heard her sniffle on the other end. "I'm sending it to your phone now. And Derek?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"You find this son of a bitch," she said before the line disconnected.

"We will," he said to himself.

"Prentiss," Hotch's voice came through Emily's cell phone, "what have you been able to learn from the crime scene?"

"Uh, well not very much, yet. Morgan's calling Garcia to get the address of the witness so we can interview him," she answered, trying to keep her voice from sounding shaky. She failed.

''But?" Hotch pressed.

"...but we did find an earring with some dried blood on the post that was missed under some leaves," she added, swallowing nearly audibly. "Earrings that—that Morgan thinks Garcia had made for (Y/L/N) a little while back."

"Thanks, Prentiss. I've got Reid with me, I'll let him know what you've found," Hotch said before the line disconnected.

"—yeah, baby girl?" She heard from where Morgan stood, followed by a determined, "We will."

"Prentiss!" He called out, heading to the black SUV. "Garcia sent me the address, can you drive?" He tossed her the keys and she caught them, jogging over to the drivers' seat.

"Reid, you doing okay?" Rossi asked him as they rushed to the home they had finally tracked the Unsub to.

"I—I just—," he stammered, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just hope we get to her in time." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"We know he keeps them for a week. It's only been three days," Spencer felt Rossi's hand land on his shoulder. "She's a fighter, Spencer. You know that better than anyone else here."

The address Garcia had tracked down for them led them to the fairly large but still dilapidated house of a man named Andrew Warren, a CNA at a local mental facility who lost his parents in a double suicide as a child, and then his older sister to suicide a month ago after she had gone through multiple rounds of ECT as a teenager in the 1990s.

The other SUV containing Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan arrived at the house slightly before theirs and Spencer could see as his coworkers stopped the car and raced towards the door of the house. Morgan kicked down the door and raced inside right as Hotch put their vehicle in park and Spencer was out of the door before he could hear any of Hotch's orders. He didn't care about orders, right now. All he cared about was getting the love of his life to safety.

As he ran over the threshold of the house, he heard shouting coming from up a bunch of old stairs. He took the steps two at a time and he went up each floor until he finally reached what seemed to be the third floor landing. The shouting became more distinct as he approached and he could make out Morgan negotiating with the Unsub.

"She's weak," the Unsub spat, followed by a whimper from (Y/N) that sent a stab of pure fear through his gut. "Weak members of our species like her need to be removed from the gene pool."

"Drop the knife, Andrew," Spencer heard Morgan say in a calm voice as he rounded the final corner and the entire situation came into his view. The Unsub had (Y/N) in front of him with a knife held to her throat, both of them standing before a large, open window. She was in nothing but her underwear and bra and had multiple electrical burns marring her skin. (Y/N) made eye contact with Spencer and tears started streaking down her cheeks as she mouthed I'm sorry to him, sending a crack through his chest.

"Don't come any closer!" The Unsub screamed as he finally noticed Spencer approaching with his gun drawn. Spencer's eyes widened as he slowly put his gun back into the holster and then raised his hands just as slowly. He halted his steps and took a deep breath.

"It's okay, Andrew," Spencer attempted to sound calm and collected through his panic. "I'm just trying to help."

Spencer looked around the room at JJ and Prentiss who were flanking Morgan in the center, both with their guns drawn. He could hear Hotch and Rossi approaching behind him and he turned and softly told them, "stay back." He then started slowly approaching again as he turned to the Unsub. "I know what you've been through, Andrew," he said, his voice steadier than he thought it would be.

"You lost your parents in a double suicide when you and your sister were little. Your foster parents would torment you and your sister and blamed you both for the way you reacted to the trauma you had been through and your sister ended up institutionalized after a suicide attempt at 17. Once she got out and took custody of you when she turned 18 and you were 16, she had trouble being able to keep up with everything. She started harming herself," Spencer took another shaky breath as he slowly continued forward, watching as tears welled in Andrew's eyes. "And then you lost her, too, when she jumped from the 11th Street bridge a month ago."

"Sh-she was weak, just like my mom and dad." Andrew responded, but his voice cracked and faltered.

"No, Andrew, they weren't weak. They were sick," Spencer reasoned with him. "Your sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, just like your parents. She was sick and in pain. She wasn't weak."

"She was weak," Andrew said. "She left me here all alone!"

"I know," Spencer said, the slightest amount of relief sparking within him as the knife at (Y/N)'s throat began to lower. "I know she did. You can't blame yourself, though, Andrew. It's not your fault. They needed help that you couldn't give by yourself, and that's not your fault. Just let her go and we can get you the help that you need." He pleaded with him, his voice wavering slightly as he looked (Y/N) in the eye again and saw all of the fear and pain radiating from them.

"No," Andrew responded as tears streaked down his face. "I can't—" As he raised the knife back to (Y/N)'s neck, Spencer heard the sound of gunfire and watched in terror as Andrew started to fall backward with his arms still around (Y/N). Spencer tried to run to her but didn't make it before they fell through the open window.

"No!" Morgan shouted as he lunged forward, grabbing (Y/N)'s hand right as she fell backward out the window. Andrew's lifeless body plummeted to the ground beneath them, landing with a crunch. "Hold on, (Y/L/N), I've got you!" He called to her as she dangled from the window, his hand her only lifeline.

Spencer rushed forward to his side before reaching his own hand out the window toward (Y/N), and together they pulled her back up through the window. They moved back and Morgan closed the window as Spencer wrapped (Y/N) into his arms while she sobbed in relief.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered into his chest over and over. Spencer just held her close and kept assuring her that she had nothing to apologize for.

I sat on the back lip of the ambulance, a blanket around my shoulders in some borrowed clothes. Spencer refused to leave my side until he was called away by Hotch. "I'll be right back, okay, love?" He looked at me before giving my forehead a soft, gentle kiss and then walked over to our boss.

"(Y/N)," I heard from a few feet away. I turned and was faced with Derek Morgan.

"M-Morgan," I stammered as my eyes widened. "I-I'm so sorry—"

"Stop, (Y/N). You don't have to apologize to me for anything," he started, "I'm the one who needs to be apologizing for my behavior."

"I—you just kept me from being dragged out of a window and likely breaking my neck. You don't owe me anything. I owe you my life." I muttered, looking at the ground.

"You don't owe me anything. I did the same thing for you that I would have done for any other member of this team," he looked at me while I kept my gaze on the ground in front of me. "Look at me, (Y/N)." I looked at him and he looked me right in the eye as he said, "my behavior the other night was uncalled for. "This team is a family, and you are a vital part of that family. We need you, Spencer needs you, and I'm so, so sorry. I hope that you'll let me try to make it up to you in the future."

Vital. He called me vital. That word clanged through me and I broke down crying again. He wrapped me in a bear hug and apologized again. "Th-thank you, Derek." I said, my voice small as I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him in return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said one more time before releasing me. The paramedics approached and asked if anyone was going to accompany me to the hospital.

"Reid!" Morgan called to Spencer, who had just finished up with Hotch. Spencer raced back to us, his eyes widening and growing concerned when he saw my fresh tears.

"What's wrong?! Is everything okay?" He asked as he gently grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. I closed my eyes and nodded, unable to form any words. Vital. I'd never felt that I was wanted or needed anywhere I'd been in my life, much less vital to anyone or anything.

"Paramedics wanna know if you're gonna accompany her to the hospital," Morgan explained, and Spencer agreed in a heartbeat. I was then loaded onto a gurney and into the ambulance, one of the paramedics and Spencer following behind.

Vital. As I looked at Spencer, he grabbed by hand and pulled it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back. "I'm so happy you're alive," Spencer whispered to me, his hand moving to stroke some of my hair out of my face. "I love you, (Y/N)."

@busy-buzzing here's part 2 sorry it took so long!

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Seven (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Phew! Well, the last couple of chapters were a lot, hey? I wonder what will happen next, tee hee! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. You give me life! ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

“Hey,” you croak, as Frankie cracks the door to your room, finding you laying in the glum light. You’re on top of the covers and hugging your pillow to your chest, body curled around the white mass like you’re trying to form a human s’more.  

Of course, you can’t sleep. You’re just slumped there, despondent, blinking into the crow black dark. Your tears have subsided, at least. But you feel sapped. Like you barely have any energy to feel anything anymore. 

“Hey,” Frankie returns, dipping the mattress as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Benny send you?” You had insisted Benny go and get some shut eye, after comforting you for the better part of half an hour. There were hugs and warm tea and threats to handle Pope if he’d done something to deserve it. He hadn’t, you’d explained. He hadn’t done a damn thing worse than you, at least.  

“Negative.” 

You hum neutrally and scooch your body up so that you’re sitting with your back to the headboard, knees drawn up around the pillow you still cling to like a security blanket. 

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie says firmly, and you brace, fully expecting to receive some tough love. You note with relief, however, that as the man turns his head towards you, his eyes are nothing but soft. “You and me. We’re going back to your sister’s tomorrow. Get you some space.” 

Space from him. That much is implied. 

“No, Frankie.” Your throat tightens. All you’ve had is space. For months. The last thing you need is more. 

He places a hand on your knee, his tone firm and almost paternal. He’s going to make a damn good father, you think, with a swell of pride. “That’s what we’ll do. It’s not going to be like this anymore. We’re gonna stop taking chunks out of each other.” 

All you had wanted to do was to be close again. You’d never meant-

“-Frankie.” 

“Just think about it.” 

You nod, and Frankie pats your knee. Stifles a yawn. Presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He looks wiped. With a gust of breath he stands, preparing to leave. “G’night, chiquita. Get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah. And Frankie?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, by the way.” 

“What for?” 

You sweep your hand through the air. “For the drama. Et cetera.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you know…” You cast a sidelong glance towards the black pane of the window. “Is… he coming back?”

The man drags his tongue along his lip. He does that when he’s uncertain. “He’ll be back.” 

“How do you know?” You don’t remember the last time you felt or sounded so small.  

“Because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment,” Frankie attempts a lopsided smile, his cheek tugging on the corner of his mouth; but it drops when he realises his joke hasn’t landed. “Just… try to get some rest. Okay?”

You nod, and you watch Frankie leave, his face murky but kind through the shadows as he gently tugs your door closed behind him. 

When he’s gone, you wait a moment for his footsteps to retreat and then you cross to the window, cracking it open far enough that you can hear the gentle shush of the waves. Far enough that you could hear either the sound of a truck pulling away in the dead of night, or the front door clicking gently closed, perhaps. 

You lie back on top of the bed covers, flat on your back, and your limbs stretched out like a starfish. You lie with your eyes open, staring at the ceiling - exhausted, but wide awake. 

And, after who knows how long like this, you hear footsteps tramping on to the porch. You hear the front door gently being latched, and the soft pad of someone travelling up the stairs. You hear the footsteps pause outside of your door for a moment and you hold your breath. You imagine an outstretched fist, primed to knock, but you dismiss this as wishful thinking. You’ve done a lot of that lately. Too much. 

Then, finally, you hear him shuffle into his room, clicking the door shut behind him. 

Only then - when you know he’s back - can you sleep. 

And, as you drift off, your thoughts of him merge with the soporific sounds of the waves. 

You’d doubt, with how much you’ve ached for him already, that you could hurt anymore, but you know fine well that it’s possible. After all, the waves break over and over, don’t they? 

They break, and they break, and they break. 

***

The following morning is an awkward affair. Everyone is tetchy, and even after a very necessary lie-in, residual grumpiness abounds. 

It figures. A shouting match and a rude awakening will do that. 

Still, the day must go on. You get knocked down? You keep moving. 

Will, ever an early riser and a true hero, brews up the first pot of coffee. Starts cooking up some breakfast, and, one by one, you and the boys filter downstairs, chasing the scent of sustenance. 

“Don’t even,” you say to Tom the moment he opens his mouth, the room falling silent as you waddle sleepily downstairs, gravitating straight towards the caffeine and the relative safety of Will. Frankie, Benny, and Tom are sat around the dining table, and, you note -because of course you do- that Santiago is glaringly absent. 

Maybe Frankie advised him not to come downstairs just yet. Perhaps he’s simply sulking. Or sleeping. Or avoiding you. Perhaps, maybe, possibly a million and one things, which you’ll never know the reasoning behind. 

It doesn’t even matter now. 

You’re done trying to figure him out. Since when did that ever get you anywhere useful? 

Instead then, you attempt to refocus. To divert your attention away from your sun, and towards the wider constellation of stars you are proud to call your squad. And, of course, to your plate of breakfast - that deserves attention too. 

The one thing you refuse to focus on, for the moment, is the elephant in the room. 

Still, you glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“What else is new with you then, Benny boy? Seeing anyone?” You reach for just about the only topic you hadn’t covered with him yesterday evening - when you had been trying ever so valiantly to distract yourself from Santiago and all that he entails. 

In response, his baby blues dance with mischief and he grins, raising one arm to pop a bicep in celebration even as he shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with the other. “I had myself a date the other night.” He probably flexes in his sleep, this man. 

“She stay for breakfast, Benjamin?” Frankie interjects, finally managing to be vocal again now that he’s been provided with the sweet hit of his second mug of caffeine. 

“‘Catfish. She was breakfast.” 

You hear Will groan from over at the stove. “Too much information, Ben.” 

Ben, meanwhile, looks entirely unapologetic. 

“Whatever happened to being a gentleman, huh? The way your Granny raised you?” Tom enquires with a thin smile. “Thought gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell.” 

“Oh, but I was a gentleman, Redfly. Let her finish first ‘n’ everythin’.” Benny offers a shit-eating grin, and you are once again grateful for the distraction as the room descends into fond bickering, the back-and-forth culminating in Will whipping his sibling with a rolled tea towel for continuing to overshare, accidentally catching Tom in the crossfire. 

“Those dirty-minded individuals asked the questions, man,” Benny defends, jabbing his finger around in a circle at the rest of you in accusation. “They always wanna know what action I’m getting. Hell, no-one ever asks me what I’m readin’.” 

You snicker. 

You glance -briefly- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“Of course not. We’re trying to live vicariously through you, man,” Tom interjects. “We don’t want to vicariously read things.” 

“Especially not the pretentious shit you read, Benjamin,” Frankie digs, before collecting up the plates and conveying them over to the sink. And, given a natural lull in the conversation, Benny takes the opportunity to grab your attention. 

“You still up for training later, hon? I’m tabled for a beastly session this afternoon.” 

It briefly crosses your mind to wonder where Benny gets his abundance of energy. You, on the other hand, can’t even be bothered to trace that train of thought through to completion. “Yeah. Maybe, Ben. I, uh, need to drive into town this morning though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a mouthful of streaky bacon, swivelling his cap to sit backwards on his head as though that will help him pay better attention to you. 

You glance once more -only briefly, of course- towards the mouth of the stairs. 

“Mmm-hmm. Need to grab something from the pharmacy.” You blink, attempting to look as innocent as possible, but your face burns with a flare of heat, and you can’t help but scratch your nose self-consciously. 

You feel as though they all know the purpose of your trip - somehow - even though that’s impossible. And, you pray that even if they do, that they will at least have the courtesy to let it slide. 

Unfortunately though, you suddenly remember that Tom exists, and that therefore, you’re likely not getting away with it that easy. 

“You and Pope all out of condoms or something?” he guffaws around the lip of his coffee mug as he takes a deep swig. 

“Tom,” Frankie warns, subtly shaking his head as he comes to retake his seat by you. 

Oddly though, Tom’s comment barely even manages to irk you. You pat your defender on the arm. “Frankie. I’m fine.” 

He surveys you regardless, to be sure, and you are grateful for it. Frankie knows fine well that Tom has a talent for rubbing you up the wrong way. The two of you have never quite seen eye to eye. 

“See, she can handle herself just fine,” Tom reminds him pointedly. He never did like the way the rest of the boys fussed so damn hard over you. His tone has the veneer of light-heartedness. “You can take a joke, right?” 

Your lips twitch around some halfway cruel retort, but, turns out, you truly have no ire left today. You’re all out - and besides, you’re not looking to burn any more bridges than you have already on this trip. 

“Listen,” you begin sincerely, cradling your mug of coffee between your palms. Deciding to nip this in the bud before it spirals. “Are we good, Tom? I was a little bit hot-tempered yesterday. I’m sorry.” 

Once again, you glance towards the mouth of the stairs. Your gaze lingers a fraction longer this time, until it ticks back to Tom. 

He looks at you levelly for a moment over the rim of his mug, before his brown eyes begin to shine with a dull, metered-out warmth. Nothing like the warmth of your sun, of course, but shining on your more brightly than Tom had deigned to in a long while, at least. “Sure we are. So long as you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night again. I need my beauty sleep.”

You hold your palms up in rare surrender. “You got it.” 

“What was all that about, anyway?” Tom needles, shuffling forward in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Beside you, you can sense Frankie and Benny ready to knock him back should he dare to overstep. You wonder suddenly if you’re too harsh on the guy. If you need to loosen off, be a little kinder. 

You wrap both hands more tightly around your coffee now, letting the warmth bleed through into your interlaced fingertips and the steam rise under your chin. “The usual,” you dismiss, not wanting to go into specifics. That would involve replaying it all. Would call for a digging out of the shrapnel lodged in your chest - an activity far too involved to undertake alongside a lazy breakfast. “Sometimes a storm is what it takes to clear the air, right?”  

“And?” Tom cranes forwards a little more. You clock Frankie’s nostrils flaring subtly in annoyance. “Is the air clear now?”

You know what Tom’s asking. Was anything resolved? Are you two done? 

Is all this over? 

Apparently curious, all three of the men direct their gaze toward you, keenly awaiting your answer. You even reach for one -an answer- but you come up lacking, and your uncertainty carves a notch into your brow. Makes your mouth go dry. Your gaze flicks to the mouth of the stairs, and this time, you can’t look away from it. “I…”

Thankfully, unfortunately, you are saved and damned all at once as Santiago finally appears. Emerging from the spot you’ve been glancing intermittently at all through breakfast. 

All the faces in the kitchen turn abruptly towards him as his careless footfalls sound out, and suddenly his eager skip down the stairs entirely loses steam. His pace slows, dragging to a dead halt by the time he has reached the base of the stairs. 

Your eyes go as wide as they can, through no fault of your own, and despite being the focus of the whole group’s attention, Santiago stares straight ahead at you. Of course he does. Only you, as though there is no-one else in the room to acknowledge.

“Morning,” he addresses, solely to you, his expression impassive, yes - but certainly not harsh. Not angry. 

“Morning,“ you respond, as brightly as possible, your eyes still wide and unblinking, and it is a little unnerving as every other head in the room swivels simultaneously around to face you. Oh good. Because you’d worried this might be awkward. You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Will has bacon,” you offer stiffly, your whole body so full of tension it feels brittle; like it could snap. 

As if the product of some hive mind, the heads swivel in unison back towards Santiago. He doesn’t drop his gaze from you, however. Doesn’t even blink - just looks between your left eye and right repeatedly. “Fabulous. Thanks.” 

Sure. Okay. This is totally normal. Except… you don’t think you’ve ever heard Santiago describe something as “fabulous” in his life. But why not start now, hey? This is fine. 

You watch him turn. Walk towards Will and the stove top, and when his gaze finally drops from yours it is like the taut line which was drawn across the room finally snaps, blissfully allowing some of the tension to sag with it. 

“Good timing, Garcia. Here.” Will doesn’t miss a beat, transferring the spatula into Santiago’s hand and shuffling him seamlessly into his position before he can clock what’s happening. “I’m officially passing the torch of Breakfast Duty into your capable hands.“ 

“Uh. Sure,” Santiago obliges, obediently beginning to move the sizzling strips around the pan as Benny stands, already crowding him to jostle for seconds. Will slaps the waffled tea towel across Santiago’s shoulder for good measure too, and you die a little inside at how goddamn domestic he looks. Especially since he’s still wearing his fluffy sheepskin slippers. Rocking his bedhead of gently tousled, greying curls. 

It makes you yearn. 

“Want a ride into town, soldier?” Will calls to you across the space, jutting his chin up at you and snapping you from your stupor. Immediately, you scrape your chair back, the gentle throb of nerves making you eager to animate. Eager to jump on any excuse to get the hell out of there. 

“Yes! Please!” 

You scoop up your plate and cutlery, and you attempt to take Frankie’s to the sink too. That is, until he protectively winds his arm around it like a bear defending its cub and begins actively batting your hand away. You guess he wants second helpings too. 

You sidle over to the stove then, where Santiago is dedicating himself to his latest occupation with vigour, Benny equally invested in hovering with his empty plate - and not above begging for scraps. 

“Where to in town?” Santiago asks in a hushed voice, his thick eyebrow arcing. You dismiss your plate into the dish bowl to soak, and he pauses his spatula duties momentarily to await your response. 

“Pharmacy.” You look at him pointedly. 

His face crumples with something resembling apology. Or - perhaps more likely - regret. “Okay.”

Your eyes lock for a moment, and he looks so different to you this morning than he had in the dead of the night. It is more than the gentle morning sun giving a soft glow to his features, the dusting of late summer freckles on his nose popping in the light. It is more than the wholesome appearance of him cooking up breakfast. More than the hush in his tone, and the way his chin dips down, making his eyes look big and round and gentle as he looks at you from beneath his long sweep of lashes. 

You suspect that he is purposefully making himself soft. Blunting his harsh edges so deliberately and so entirely that you fear he will sluice to the floor like the insides of a cracked egg. “You, uh… You need anything? Need me to…?” 

Santiago. Honey. You’ve done quite enough already. 

“No,” you say, but the word doesn’t audibly make it out the first time around. You clear your throat. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay.” 

Your gaze dips to the dried, rogue fleck of toothpaste right on the corner of his mouth. You can’t explain why, but this tiny, human detail makes your chest ache. “Talk later?” 

He forces his sober expression to twist into a halfway smile. His eyes grow big and earnest, that cup of coffee gaze gently warming you. “Okay.” 

Don’t, you inwardly plead with him. Don’t give me hope. Don’t break me again, Santiago. 

A niggle plays at your brow. It’s odd, really. You remember the words and venom spat from each of your mouths yesterday. Of course you do. But you can no longer feel the all-consuming ire that came along with them. That part -that feeling- is absent. Every scrap of anger consumed. It seems as alien to you as the raging storm must feel to the clear morning which follows. 

And so, you can’t help it. Really can’t help it. You dip forwards to kiss Santiago, softly. Right on the point of his beautifully high cheekbone, giving his tea-towel adorned shoulder a light squeeze. 

You leave, then, to the sight of that subtle crimson flush darkening his cheeks, your gesture evidently both confounding and flustering him. 

You leave too, to the sound of Benny yelling “Look alive, Pope! Don’t burn my goddamn bacon!”. The spatula has gone limp in his hand as Santiago’s gaze trails after you, and the tension is once again pulled taut like a string across the room. You imagine a festival of blush red balloons tied all along it, rising and dancing like your hope. 

You leave, with an answer to Tom’s question. 

You and Santiago? Is it over? 

No. It’s not done.

But you are done with being angry. 

You’re done breaking, and no longer will you throw yourself against those rocks. 

***

The time away from the house was useful, and the scenes of the open coast slipping by smoothed your roughened edges out like a tossed, worn pebble. The salt-saturated air humming through your wound-down window had you drinking in deep, energising lungfuls. Then, there was Will’s steady, reassuring drawl, and all the feelings of security that came along with it. 

Steady, dependendable, straightforward Will. You always knew where you stood with him. 

At least, that’s who he had always been to you. Not the volatile, ticking time bomb you’d heard he’d become since he’d gotten out. Since he’d almost choked a man out in the tinned produce aisle. 

It was good to have time to talk with him. You were endlessly glad to hear the ways Will was moving forward. You were glad -first and foremost- for him, of course; but you couldn’t deny it bolstered your own hope too. To know that there was a route out? A path onward - even when some things attempted to drag you back? It felt good. 

Speaking of things which dragged you to them, you were also grateful that Will didn’t press you (too much) on Santiago-shaped matters. In fairness, at this point the whole squad is probably sick to death of the topic. Regardless though, it was refreshing to talk about other things. About Will’s new life. His bizarro public speaking gig. His worry for Benny, as an unfailingly attentive and loyal big bro. His insistence that the “kid” is not living up to his full potential. 

Benny’s doing fine, you had assured him. Benny’s… buoyant. 

So, in sum, it was safe to say that despite everything, by the time you had arrived back to the house you’d felt decompressed. It made you wonder if - maybe - last night’s storm really had succeeded in clearing the air. Of course, that depended on Santiago too, and where he was at today. Whether he had any more drama brewing, up in that pretty head of his. 

From his vibe this morning though? You had gotten the sense that he was oh so tired too. 

It didn’t change anything of course. The fighting. The fucking. Not really. Not any of it. The anger, once given its release valve, had simply moved through you like weather. It had turned out, it was all mostly bluster. Ephemeral. Shifting. And it couldn’t touch the truth of things, could it? The permanence and depth of your love for him? Not really. 

It did change something in you though, that unforgiving storm. If nothing else, it had made you acutely aware of how powerless you are. Your weather cannot move the mountains, and Santiago is as stubborn and immoveable as a wall of rock.

You’d believed, at one time, that perhaps you could succeed in shifting him. Encouraging him. Convincing him.

But now you know for sure. 

The only way he’s running into your arms is of his own accord. In his own good time. 

When he’s ready.

If he ever is, of course; ready. And on that topic, you’re less and less sure that he ever will be. That Santiago will ever be ready to be loved by you. 

It’s sad in one way to realise that. But in another way, it’s freeing. To give up. To stop trying to shape things into what you’d hoped they could be, and to simply let things be whatever they are. To make peace with the truth of things. And peace? It may sound counterintuitive, but as a soldier, peace is all you’d ever really wanted. 

Perhaps that’s why you feel calm as you pace down the track back to the house. Why there’s a spring in your step as you fix up a sandwich for yourself and Will, heading out across the dunes to where the boys laze by that frilled edge of ocean. Perhaps you feel calm because you really have exhausted all of your options. 

Because there’s truly nothing else you can do. 

Because it’s out of your control. 

Because you cannot move mountains. 

And so, when you join the group and Santiago flashes you a tentative and oh so pure smile? You return it easily this time. 

You can’t change yourself and how you feel. You’ve tried that. You certainly can’t change him. You’ve tried that too. 

And… why would you want to, anyway, huh? To change him? In so many ways, you think, as you watch his rich, scratchy laugh bob in his throat, and see those delicious crinkles radiate from around his eyes, he’s perfect exactly as he is. 

After all, he’s your best friend. 

And, for the remainder of the afternoon, you simply want to focus on that. 

For today, you reckon you’ll simply have to try to see him in pieces. In fragments. 

You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s the only way you can make it through, but when you do realise, it strikes you. If you too find it hard to reconcile who he’s always been to you with all that he could be, then maybe you and he never were so different after all. 

He certainly could never grasp all of you at once, could he?

***

The rest of the day passes pleasantly - much to everyone’s relief, you suspect. After the card games wrap up, there is plenty more entertainment to be had. There is time whiled away goofing around with a football and a frisbee. There’s a grill session on the dunes and chilled beers and music. When the heat becomes too sticky, too intense, there are sea swims and splashing around in the waves and everyone trying to dunk Benny. There’s solitary time too. Time for sunbathing and reading and podcasting and naps; and, in between, there is the cyclical eruption and waning of amiable chatter - whenever someone sparks up with a talking point.

In sum, you all opt to just be with each other. No particular agenda in mind, and it feels good. Really good. 

You’ve missed them all. Hell, even Tom, though you’d never tell him that to his face. 

The stretch of beach you’ve claimed is stunning too. The sands are golden and fine-grained and the water is perfectly temperate; but, it’s a hidden gem, the patch not attracting a fraction of the stifling crowds you’d find along the main drag. Throughout the day, other people come and go, of course. There’s the family with the adorable little kids, for example. The little boy, in particular, who had seemed to take a real liking to Benny - and who’d even roped him into helping build sandcastles. You’d watched, fondly, as each of your squad’s faces had split with wholesome, eye-swallowing grins at the adorableness of it all. There was the lone woman who spent 45 minutes giving you evil eyes - apparently, you’d deducted, for daring to be surrounded by five attractive men. You’d even suspected she might march over and punch you at one point, judging from the hate seething in her eyes when Will had asked you to slather-up his milky-white back with his trusty factor 50. 

Mostly though, it had stayed pretty quiet, and you and the boys had more or less had the beach all to yourselves. 

Various members of the group would filter off every now and again, of course. To replenish supplies, grab a new book, or buy an ice cream from the truck which pulled up. But, there had always been a core contingent remaining, even as the intensity of the day’s heat had begun to burn off, replaced with a softer, gentler, and more oranged glow. 

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t realise it, until it had already happened.

That by now, you and Santiago were alone. 

You look up from your book and all of a sudden, you are the only one left lounging on the blankets. You look out to the water, and Santiago is the only figure to be found there too, currently floating on his back, bobbing over each gentle, orange-frilled wave which laps up to the shore. 

Christ. When did it get so late? 

Santiago must realise the predicament at a similar moment to you, you think, as by the time you have finished swivelling your head to scan the sands for signs of anyone else -finding no-one but a distant dog walker- he has already begun to wade out of the water. 

It is something you have watched him do so many times today, but now that it is just the two of you, this time it hits just a little different. This time, you notice him. Really notice him. Can’t help it. You watch him rise out of the water in the golden glow of the descending sun, and shake the rivulets of water from his darkened, wetted curls. See his tan chest emerge first, the colour in his shoulders a deeper, richer brown already from a day soaking up the sun. That silver chain of his swinging and glinting in between his smooth, shapely pecs. And, you note the soft cushion of his tummy swelling over the waistband of his swim shorts, the garment sodden and clinging tightly to his ample hips and thighs. Even slipping down just a little as he wades from out of the water, revealing a hint of his happy trail as he beelines directly towards where you lay. 

Your stomach twists with a deep, hot yearning, and you are grateful that you have at least a moment to compose yourself before he arrives, sea-shined and dripping, at your now deserted camp. You have the wherewithal, at least, to throw him a towel as he reaches you, trying not to stare (too much) as he begins to dry himself off. 

“Thanks,” he offers, with a lazy flash of teeth, and you unconsciously rearrange yourself, very suddenly aware - now that you’re alone - that you are stripped right down to your flimsy bikini. 

You see a swallow sink down Santi’s corded throat as his eyes skim down the length of you, but he is quick to obscure it. He’s still playing nice. Softening himself, you think. 

With a laugh as roughly hewn as driftwood, he flicks some water at you after scrunching his hand through his sodden curls, spraying cold flecks across the bare expanse of your belly, causing you to tense and squeal. His shoulders shake with gentle mirth, and, once he’s towelled off and wrung out his shorts a little, he spreads his towel out next to you, parking his ample ass down. 

“Didn’t feel like a swim? The water’s nice.” 

“Nah.” 

His head swivels about, eyes traversing the length of the beach. He scoops a hand around his stubble, and you hear it rasp like sand. “Where the shit did everybody go?”

You shrug with one shoulder. “Beats me. I was far too engrossed in my trashy novel to notice.”  You dog-ear the page of said book and put it to one-side before leaning back, supporting your torso on bent elbows, legs still elongated before you and crossed neatly at the ankle. The position pushes your breasts out, and you swear Santiago tries valiantly to look just about anywhere else - more or less succeeding too. 

“Then… I think we’re alone now.” 

A mischievous smile catches the corners of your mouth. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.” 

You turn your head towards him, to see if he’s picked up on your song-lyric-inspired choice of words, but the solemnity of his expression catches you off-guard. His brows are drawn down, the sockets of his eyes all shadowed despite the golden hour glow still pouring over the horizon, lighting the stark contours of him. 

In unison, the two of you shift position, coming to sit cross-legged. Side-by-side, looking out over the ocean. It seems easier that way, you think. Not to face each other directly as you each say whatever it is you need to say. 

You know that it’s come time to say it. That it’s overdue. 

Besides, it’s undeniably beautiful, looking out across the view like this. Enjoying the lapping waves and the undulating, orange zest water stretched out below that burning sky. Now cooling, post-dip, Santiago reaches over for his trusty tartan blanket. Silently, he first tucks it around his shoulders, then he passes it around yours. It’s a stretch for the square of fabric, and so you huddle a little closer to one another, finding it is even more warming as your bodies press together. The wetness of his thigh, from those water-logged, sand-coated trunks contacts you too, but you make no effort to move away, instead resting your folded thigh just on top of his. 

You can smell the ocean on him. Salt and sunshine and sunscreen. He smells like summer.

You look out across the landscape with renewed concentration as you wait for him to speak, not ready to face whatever expression his features may offer. You look outward with vigour while you wait for him to look inward, and you worry that his words - when they come - will surely be more ugly than the sight before you. Will be bitter and not sweet. 

You even brace for it. 

You’re so used to the storm. 

Still, when he eventually speaks, you are surprised. Surprised that he is calm and steady. That his voice is like slow, warm sand pooling into your cupped hands. That his words are both bitter and sweet. “Hey. C’mere.” You link your arm into him. Lean your head onto his shoulder as his tone grows wistful. “Do you… Do you remember that night in Philadelphia?” 

You smile immediately. There had been only one such night in Philadelphia. 

It had been your birthday. You and Santiago had been catching a connecting flight, heading back from a deployment and en route to meet the boys off-base to celebrate. However, all the planes had been grounded due to some technical hitch with the tower. You’d been bummed that your plans had been ruined; but Santiago had come through. Had gifted you one of the best nights of your life. A very silly, drunken night, if you recall. 

You cringe, hazy, smooth-edged memories flooding back. You clap a hand to your face with residual embarrassment. “Christ. The karaoke.” 

Santiago chuckles warmly, and you feel his laugh reverberate through you. “It wasn’t karaoke! You hijacked the goddamn wedding band.” 

Your hand clamps in dismay over your mouth now, and you lift your head from his shoulder to face him. “Oh my god. You’re right.” 

Your laughs mingle together in the tight space between you, becoming indistinguishable, like the tide and the shore. “I still can’t believe you blagged our way into a wedding reception.” 

“I can’t believe it took us so long to get rumbled,” his hand settles over yours, where your arm is still hooked into his.

You beam at him. “Thank God I’m stealthy.”

He pumps his eyebrows, entirely incredulous. “You? Yeah right.” 

“I’m sure I must’ve helped, Pope.”  

“No, cariño, no. You were not helping.” He scratches at his layer of scruff. “Shit. What was it… What did you tell the kid on the desk your name was, again?” 

You try to recall, and when you remember you snort in a full-blown laugh. Your ensuing, chaotic giggle planes tears of joy out of the corners of your eyes. “Mariana Trench!”

“You’re fucking despicable. You know that?” Santiago laughs along with you, and God. It feels good. Really good. It feels effortless, your mirth sharing space like this instead of your anger.  Your laughs mingle then dissipate, withdrawing gently like the retreat of a wave. 

You lean your head back on to his shoulder, but your giggle fit is evidently not wholly through - not just yet. Your shoulders begin to shake up against him - gently at first, and then with a rising chuckle. “Whiskey in the jar-o,” you sing under your breath, wistfully recalling your drunken duet of choice. “Fuck, Santi. That was a good night.” 

He rests his head on top of yours, the weight of it a comfort. “Yeah. Yeah it was,” he agrees. “Jesus, I’m telling you though. They were lucky we showed up. Before we livened things up? The dance floor was as dead as a battlefield after one of Redfly’s sweeps.” 

You hum at the fond memory, a soft smile arcing over your face. He has you curious though. “What made you think of that night?” Why this memory, out of everything?

He stiffens noticeably up against you. Sits more upright. Presses his palms together. “That was, uh. That was the night that I-” 

“-Vomited into a soup tureen?” You interject with a snort, as another random memory flashes back to you.

“No. Nope,” Santi counters decisively. “That was Cat’s Oma’s 80th.” 

You giggle chaotically again. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You miss that lady. She was a sweetie. 

“Hey. Listen,” Santiago begins with far more gravity. Enough gravity that you shift, turning your body as he draws your gaze to him. You had been waiting for this moment to arrive; but, now that it’s here, you wish you could cling on to the sweet things for a few moments longer. Still, you settle opposite him now, the two of you still cross-legged but positioned face to face. He adjusts the blanket around your shoulders, tugging on each corner. With a watery smile, you slide your palms on to his wrecked, perfect knees and give him a gentle squeeze there, seemingly pushing his croaked words out with the gesture too. “I want to say that I’m sorry.” 

You have nothing for a moment. No words, at least. Nothing but the motion of your hands smoothing back and forth over his knees. Nothing but the pained expression as your eyes swim with an ocean of feeling, deep enough to rival the vast body of water before you. 

You note that his eyes are wet too as he settles his own hands over yours, gathering them up into his grasp. He stares down intently at your hands, his brow notching with a deep frown. He drags in a slow breath and releases it. “This got so fucked up, and… that’s not it at all.” He looks back to you then, his umber eyes shining with remorse. Deep regret welling in his resonant tone. “That’s not how I want to show up for you.” 

Your tongue, too, reaches for an apology as readily as your hands had reached out for him. “Fuck, Santiago. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry too.” You had never meant to hurt him. You had never wanted that. 

He drops his gaze to your neat pairing of hands. Gingerly begins to smooth the rough, sea-pruned pads of his thumbs over your knuckles, your skin humming dully where he touches. “I mean it. I’m sorry for everything.” The tendons in his jaw clench, muscles slipping over bone. He drags your cupped hand into his lap, drawing an absent-minded spiral in your palm with the pad of his thumb. The sensation makes a pleasant tingle bed down beneath your skin. “I swear. I never meant for my bullshit to affect you. Christ - that was the whole fucking point. Thought the least I could do, after everything, was protect you from that.” 

At his earnest words, your chest tightens, and you abruptly halt the dance of his fingers by clasping his hands, gathering them between your own palms like a prayer. Your voice cracks in half like a broken promise. “Santiago. For Christ’s sake. You think I need protecting?” The implication in his words cleaves your heart in two. “From you?” 

He shrugs with one shoulder. Sniffs. The muscle in his cheek tugs up, and you feel his hands go clammy in your grasp.

He frees himself from your grip for a moment, before continuing to skim his fingers up and down your forearm arm in a gentle, tender dance. The lightness of his touch contrasts starkly with the heaviness settling into his brow, his wet, puppy dog eyes swimming beneath. “I dunno. I was always a better fucking soldier than I was a friend.” He swallows, his voice so soft you can barely hear him. “Than I was… anything else you might’ve needed me to be.” 

“No. That’s not true,” you respond adamantly, your head shaking vigorously from side to side. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“Except when it counted.”

“No!” you emphasise, the thrust of your words carrying your whole body forward. You shift position, transferring on to folded knees, crouching before him in the sand. Reaching, to slip your palms up to each side of his face, and you hold him like a prayer now. “No, Santiago. Especially when it counted. Believe me.”

He tries to turn away from you - you see it. He tries to begin his retreat, like usual, but this time, you capture his roughened cheek with one palm and you hold his gaze with yours. You speak firmly, willing him to understand. “Santiago Garcia. Idiota. You’re my hero.” 

He scoffs lightly. His face twitches with scepticism. With doubt. With this self-deprecation he always carries, usually so well concealed by his confidence and easy charm. And yet, as you caress his stubble-flecked cheek with your palm, he sinks gratefully into your touch. Leans against it, his eyes fanning closed and his long lashes splaying down towards his cheeks. 

“God,” he breathes softly in Spanish, barely audible. “No-one has called me that in a long time." He lives in a world of aliases and nicknames, and you see the weight of his grief twist his face at hearing his name fall from your mouth. 

“I mean it. Do you hear me?” you plead, snagging his eyes to yours as they drift open. “You have made my life more beautiful in a thousand ways. You’re not -and you never were- something I need protecting from.” You regard Santiago, and his pretty eyes glisten, wet with a well of scarcely contained emotion -starlight in his lashes. “I love you, Santiago. Whatever has happened. Whatever happens. I love you. Not when you’re this ‘perfect’ version of yourself you finally deem worthy of love.” You search his eyes “That’s bullshit. I love you. I love you now.”

Santiago slowly, gradually musters a nod, and you smooth your hands over him. Over his shoulders. the nape of his neck. His chest. Trying to plaster over the evident cracks as his emotion crashes like a wave against rocks. He scoops a hand around his stubble, his lower lip now downturned. Trembling with feeling. Fat, liquid tears shining in his eyes, threatening to overspill. “I love you too.” 

What a terrible, sad thing, you think. That you love each other. That there’s such bounty and abundance, but that at the same time… it is never quite enough. 

Maybe one day, it will be; enough. 

For now though, it is still something which causes you pain. And, you can see -more clearly than ever now- that it hurts him too. 

His eyes dance over everything but you. His face twists. Contorts and tightens as he wrestles with it, but he cannot hold back the tide a moment longer. Full, wet tears spill down Santiago’s cheeks, and he makes some attempt to fumble them away, until they grow too numerous. You reach for him instead, and for a moment he tries to gently bat your hand away. “Hey,” you scold, protest, smooth. “Santiago.” His eyes drop, and his gaze fixes intently on a spot in the sand as you gingerly scoop his tears away with your crooked forefinger. The finger you then trace lovingly along the length of his jaw. The finger you trace along his eyebrow. The point of his cheekbone. Every place the waning golden light paints him. Your eyes dance over him. Every contour. Every sharp angle and every hollow. Every soft, silver curl. And he stays perfectly still. Unmoving, as though he is afraid your touch will withdraw like a tide at any moment. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, and it is at once bitter and sweet. “It hurts. It… hurts to be without you.”

For a stretched moment, you do not believe he will respond, the only sign of movement from him a lone tear sluicing down his sculpted cheek. But, eventually, his words come. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I need to find a way it doesn’t hurt you to be with me.” You shake your head, a protest dying on your lips as Santiago drags your hands to him. “I know you won’t buy this. You don’t have to. But I do want out. I swear it’s just this one last job with Lorea. And then I can… Then maybe we can…”

He trails off, his words waning. Breaking on the rocks. 

He never could articulate a future with you, could he? Never could seem to dream that up.

You could be angry about that, you suppose, but you truly have no more anger left to give. You could be sad instead but, turns out, you’re out of that feeling too. All you have left to offer in this moment, in fact, is a small, resigned smile.

“It’s okay,” you smooth, and what’s more, you mean it. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Your fingers play over the leather and beads of his bracelets. Over the tendons in his wrist. The light hairs on his forearms.

You’re done with all of that now. Done trying to push him towards a future you’re not even sure he wants with you. Not sure he ever wanted. It’s funny almost, as you sit here, letting the future go. You sit here with him, so much history humming between you it’s like standing amidst ruins. Like you are two statues, memories and stories carved into your bodies. Sometimes, it feels like the past is all you have. But, you are thankful when the sinking, orange segment of sun draws you to it, reminding you there is one more thing you have. Something between the past and future. 

You have the here and now. 

You reach for it. 

It’s all you’ve got. Might be all you ever have with him. 

You twist your body, turning outward again, away from him. You fold your knees up to your chin and you loop your arms around them, fixing your eyes straight ahead on the undulating ocean. 

“That’s one thing I always loved about you, you know,” you push out. “How you always live smack bang in the moment. I’m constantly wishing it all the fuck away, aren’t I? Always thinking fifty steps ahead.”

Santiago follows your lead, swivelling to face the sunset too. His body becomes all right angles as he plants his elbows on the points of his spread knees, his butt and the soles of his feet flat to the floor, his hands loosely laced together in the space between his legs.  “You should. You should think about that stuff. You deserve all that. Everything you talked about last night.”

His words cause a tight lump to rise in your throat. 

Do you? 

Does he really believe that? 

Because, if so, then why in the hell don’t you deserve him? Why can’t he be the one to give it to you? 

You offer a theory. 

“Does it bore you, or something? The thought of a future like that?” The question emerges tattered, torn on hooks in your throat which try to hold it back; but it’s something you’ve wondered for too long to suppress it any longer. You’ve wondered without ever wanting to push that thought too far - too afraid of the answer. 

“Yeah,” he says levelly, not a hint of doubt in his voice, and you hold your breath. “With anyone else, yeah. But not with you.” You are relieved but that fades ever so quickly, your face crumpling into something halfway petulant. 

“Then… why?” 

Why is he still running? 

Why is he running from the life you could offer him if it’s something he wants too? 

You hear Santiago tug in and release a deep sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see him lace his fingers together, soothing his thumb over his own hand like he’s retracing your comfort. “Because… I’m not brave like you.” His voice tips up at the end. Like a question. He reserves all of his doubt for himself, then? It’s not you he refuses to believe in? 

“You’re ridiculous. You’re the bravest man I know.” 

“Heh. Yeah,” he lifts a hand to self-consciously scratch at the bristle of hairs at the nape of his neck. You hug your knees more tightly to your chest. “Running into bullets. Eliminating threats, sure. But… running into safe hands? I’m a fucking coward.”

You hum, a neutral, bland sound which expresses neither agreement nor disagreement. Which takes you nowhere. 

There’s nowhere left to go. 

Perhaps the road ends here. 

Dead end after dead end. 

Only resignation. 

“Maybe we were on the same path, once upon a time, huh?” You throw the statement out with little conviction. You’re giving up on the idea that your words or your actions can make the slightest bit of difference to what could be. For now, you simply wish to make sense of what is. “Maybe - I dunno. Maybe I just ran too far ahead. Racing towards this dream of the future, before you were ready to go there. Maybe I just created too much distance.” 

Santiago hums now too. A tight, pensive sound. “Huh. Is that what you think happened?” 

You rub your palms over your own face. Dig the heels of your hands into your eye sockets. You have as much energy as a spent wave. “Uch. I don’t know.” Wordlessly, tentatively, Santiago reaches, retucking the soft tartan blanket around your shoulders. You manage to smile softly at him, surprised that it does not feel at all forced. “Maybe we just forget all that now. Maybe we just… I dunno. Live in the moment?”

Santiago’s palm draws slow circles on your upper back. You shuffle a little closer to him. “Okay. Then what do you want?” he enquires. “Right now? In this moment?” 

His arm weighs over your shoulder, huddling you closer. “Oh. I don’t know. What does it even matter?” 

“We leave here tomorrow. So tell me. What do you want right now?” 

You could imagine that you are tired of wanting. That all you want is a moment free of wanting anything at all. But that’s not true, is it? You want the very same thing you’ve craved for so long. You want him. Finally though, something in you has shifted. You find yourself able to envisage a future which is far more immediate. Something you can grasp now instead of distantly yearning for. 

The words feel hard and tight in your chest, but by the time they reach your lips, they feel so very soft and loose. Easy to sound out. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. All this time I missed you so much.” Unconsciously, Santiago holds you just a little more tightly. “I just…”

“What?” he whispers. 

“I want us to fall asleep together. I want to hold you. I just want us to have one moment like that, Santi. Peaceful, you know? After everything, don’t we at least deserve that?” You tug in a breath to launch your next words, your throat closing protectively around them. Making them sound small. “And… And maybe…” 

“What? What else?” 

“Can’t we just fuck and feel happy about it? Can’t we have just one fucking moment together that doesn’t feel like an ending?”

You wait, your raw-wound words laid out in a line on the sand. You brace. You brace for them to be washed away. To have the salt poured in. 

“Okay.” 

Your eyes snap to his in surprise, and you find his soft, ardent gaze dancing over your features. “Okay?” 

Santiago’s fingers lace with yours, and he tugs you to standing. “Come with me. Come on.” 

He gathers up the remaining supplies, slinging the filled beach bag over one shoulder. Then, he folds his other arm around your middle. Tucks you into him. You let him lead you to the house, and it’s nice. It’s nice that for once, you’re not begging him to follow. 

You let him lead you up the dunes, back to the house, and up the stairs. 

You leave the golden, sinking sun behind you, but with Santiago’s warm, molten gaze shining on you, you still feel the sun on your face. 

[whorety-k]

Hello! Wanted to say that I really love your work about Konrad. I recently listened to the song Type O Negative - Love You To Death and realized that it would be just perfect for him. I would be glad if you get inspired to write a new post for it (´꒳`)♡

(sound warning) TYPE O NEGATIVE BESTIE?? YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION.

I love this song and you're absolutely right: it's perfect. This is targeting me for being goth (and a Peter Steele appreciator, rest in peace beloved) and I am unable to get it out of my mind, thank you. Type O Negative songs + Konrad Curze and just the natural progression of things. You ripped me right out of another fic like my soul ascending to daemonhood (sorry Fulgrim asker, this is one of my favorite songs).

Please have another really good Konrad song for what I've written! Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge [YouTube] [Spotify]

without further ado, have some horny

Pairing: Konrad Curze x afab!Reader

Song Inspiration: Love You to Death - Type O Negative [YouTube] [Spotify] “I beg to serve / your wish is my law / Now close your eyes and let me love you to death / Shall I prove I mean what I’m saying, begging? / I say the beast inside of me is gonna getcha, getcha, get—”

Warnings: SMUT, porn without plot, dubcon (but not actually, reader is into it), injury, blood kink, descriptions of blood, not quite blood as lube but it’s there, physical restraints (bondage + gagging), we’re visiting an apothecary after this one everybody

Word Count: 666 (well if that's not telling...)

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams

A shudder rips down your spine from the chill of the room, bare nipples perking. He eats up your soft whimpers, digging his sharpened nails into the soft flesh of your hips as if you’d run away at the first chance you could get. The pain sends jolts of electricity down your legs, knees twitching limply from where he has you restrained. Navy blue cordage has your arms trapped helplessly against your sides, wrists bound to your ankles. A claw ghosts down the pretty arch in your back. “Gorgeous little rabbit, you are,” he croons, breath puffing against your ear. You whine, causing the giant to tut at you in mock sympathy.

Konrad’s hot tongue laves desperate laps up and down your thighs— hot, wet, chasing after crimson trails like a man possessed. The intensity of his eyes has you just as pinned as the soft ropes affixing you to yourself. “You were the one that wanted this, my dear,” the Night Haunter taunts, softly shaking his head. You try to choke a response, but your words are lost to limitations of the ball-gag. Curze perks up, eyes alight in false sincerity. “Did you not?” he asks, using a sharp nail to raise your chin. Your eyes fall as they refuse to meet his gaze. Loaded silence passes between the two of you before he roughly grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. His voice is tense with disappointment, growling out, “Your body makes for an awful liar. I can smell you, bloody minx.”

A crimson hand traces the heat between your legs, rubbing tantalizing circles around your slit. “All of that effort to garner my favor… why act so ungrateful? Was this not your goal?” Konrad scoffs, sinking a thick finger inside of your wet warmth, “Only a fool shows such kindness without an expectation of repayment.” A second finger slips in beside the first, prodding roughly against your front as they pump in and out of your fluttering core. Stars fill your vision at the rush of adrenaline his ministrations send through your veins, and a muffled cry leaves your lips and your back arches forward against the restraints. You feel more than see the razor edge against your cheek before the gag in your mouth suddenly comes loose, dropping onto your spread lap. “Care to repeat yourself?” your captor inquires, continuing to tease your bud. 

A deep breath fills your lungs for the first time since the Night Haunter had lured you to his quarters. Your eyes rim with tears of overstimulation and delicious pain, thighs and hips aching with still-bleeding wounds. “Please,” you beg through glossy, spit-laden lips, angling your hips forward.

A wicked smile blooms on Konrad’s pale face, a modicum too wide to be ingenuous. He leans forward, whispering, “Good pet, finally being honest with yourself. Let me reward you.” Slick sounds of the Night Haunter working you open echo against the walls of the dark chamber, deadened by the rush of blood in your ears. The coil in your belly begins to wind tighter with each exploratory thrust of his fingers, large palm stimulating your nub. The harsh pleasure causes the tension to snap, and Curze dips his head to place a sloppy kiss to your parted lips, tongue devouring the inside of your mouth and eating up your cries as you clench around his digits. He coasts you through your high, bordering overstimulation before retreating his fingers from you. 

Konrad looks over his work, swiping up another trail of blood with a soiled finger. “Quite the mess,” he teases, dark eyes tracing your heaving form. He raises his hand to his lips and licks off the erotic mixture of blood and desire from his fingers as if it's his final meal, emitting low growls and grunts as commentary on the taste. When he’s finished, the primarch pushes you onto your front, pressing one of his massive hands between your shoulders. 

“One worthy of expanding, certainly.”

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #158

Sorry if this isn’t the right place, I have only recently discovered this tumblr and am slowly working my way backwards through your dpxdc tag.  I think it might be an injoke here so uh, behold poor Yorick, totally not the human skull of Tchaikowsky fullfilling his actor dreams postmortem.

One of the posts in the tag was a dpxdc trope writing challenge. So I’m not sure if you’re interested in seeing blurb turned fic summary but here:

Nightwing learns of a travelling circus, Circus Gothica, that claims to have ‘The Real Flying Graysons performing from the beyond the grave’. Alternatively furious and hopeful he discretely goes to investigate, and finds himself overshadowed by one of Ringmaster Freakshows ghostly workers, stuck performing as an acrobat for the circus. As Nightwing struggles with his posession and reunion with seemingly the supposed ghosts of his parents, he finds an unlikely ally in Killer Croc/Waylon Jones, who had been kidnapped on his travels back to Gotham after having tried and failed to settle down in Swamp Things swamp.

Unfortunately the pairs cooperation ends shortly after freeing themselves and the completely unneccessary fight allows Freakshow and his assosciates to escape. Nightwing is determined to solve the case himself (and get justice for his dead parents and himself) causing tension between him and Batman who noted his disappearance.

Batman independently investigates,leading him to the Guys in White. Identifying them as an anti-meta group, he brings it to the attention of the Justice League in hopes of organising a legal solution - Superman takes it personally when one of the primary funders is revealed to be Lex Luthor.

Meanwhile Nightwing has tracked Freakshow to a bolthole/lair, where he comes across Val, a woman in a red jumpsuit, who had been following the trail of a different individual - a villain she calls Vlad Plasmius . The pair work together, Val freeing the ghosts in Freakshows control including the Greysons and Nightwing getting a cathartic takedown of both Freakshow and (with borrowed tech) Vlad.

Their partnership and the greater plot behind the villains actions goes over Nightwings head as he recognises 'not his circus, not his monkeys’ and opts to leave it to his new friend.

Meanwhile Clark Kent has discovered an odd exchange of info/money/tech between the GIW, Lex Luthor and a strange inventor who loudly proclaims that he is Technus. The end goal seems to be to create suits that will be secretly under Lex Luthors control capable of rivalling heroes, so as to supplant heroes as beloved protectors of the world, as a step in ridding the world of independent metas like superman and getting him his own private world army.

Also meanwhile Batman has continued to investigate GIW/Freakshow leading him to Amity Park, where he witnesses young adult Sam Manson inadvertently vitalise plants during a local eco protest. When persistent digging leads to learning about the overgrowth incident, Batman reaches out to Harley for her thoughts on how mentorhip might positively/negatively effect her struggling but mostly reformed partner Poison Ivy. Batman uses his Brucie Wayne persona to assist in organising an eco activism initiative (and plant meta power mentorship) with the Mansons, with Sam taking a guiding role.

Supermans battle against Lexs + Technus mediated ghost/meta power suits goes poorly and he calls in for rescue. Recognising the issues from his research in Amity, Batman 'borrows’ tech from the Fentonworks before going to the rescue.

With the day saved Batman returns to update his records on ghosts and store his new tech, finally leading to Nightwing explaining a bit of his experiences to add to the records.

The story ends on the cliffhanger of Danny getting screwed over by Batman’s improved antighost protections when he went to try track down and collect the stolen weapons.

I had fun with this : )

[ghostxrose]

Nicotine | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Summary ~ When you started dating Shota, you knew what you were signing up for. What you didn’t expect to happen was for everything between you both to come crumbling down, leaving you pinned beneath the rubble and Shota not even realizing it.

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW content, Inspired by Nicotine by Panic at the Disco, hurt no comfort, angst, failed relationship, past relationship neglect, cursing, break up, sad ending, use of Y/N

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, I wrote this one night when I was craving some angst, lol. I did include some of the lyrics from Nicotine, sorry if it's cringe. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the read? It is very angst forward so.. I don't know.. trigger warning..? Love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

You had shown up to his apartment not long after he called..

Again.

As soon as you were through the door, the two of you had dove right into sloppily making out and pawing off each other’s clothing..

Again.

You two had taken your heaving chests, kiss bitten lips, panted moans, and lust heated bodies straight to his bedroom without having a proper conversation beforehand..

Again!

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm taking over your mind, as Shota gives one last thrust and groans into your mouth in one last open-mouthed sloppy kiss as he cums. He stays on top of you for a moment, lazily making out with you, before he slowly pulls out and flops onto his back next to you.

As you both lay there panting and coming down from your highs you close your eyes. Shota slowly gets up, tying off the condom and heading to the bathroom to throw it away and clean himself up.

The post-orgasm clarity hits you and the feeling of disappointment fills you as you sit up. You let out a heavy sigh as you rub your hands over your still flushed face and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes scan the floor for your clothes, more negative and heavy emotions stacking themselves on top of the disappointment. Collecting your clothes from off of the floor, you start to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” Shota asks from the doorway of the bathroom, startling you a bit.

You don’t turn around to face him because you know that his face is either it’s usual tired disinterest or it’s occasional tired confusion.

“I’m getting dressed.” You state, attempting to make your tone blank and void of emotion.

“That much was obvious, (Y/N). Why are you getting dressed?” He says, his tone slightly more irritated than normal.

“This was a mistake, Shota.” You bite out, already feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

You feel the bed dip behind you and hear Shota let out an exasperated breath as he sits down heavily.

“You said that the last three times we.. did this. I don’t understand what the problem i-”

“The problem is that we are stuck in this horrible on and off situation, Shota. I.. I can’t do it anymore..” You say, cutting him off and trying so desperately to keep your tone controlled and even.

“The only reason we’re ‘on and off’ is because you thought that being with a Pro Hero who also teaches full-time would be a walk in the fucking park, (Y/N).” Shota angrily spits, both of you still sitting with your backs facing each other.

A bitter rage floods your body and you lose the will to hold back any longer, “I never thought that, Shota! I knew it would be difficult but I was ready to put in the effort required to make it fucking work! I poured so much effort int-”

“I did, t-” Shota’s raised voice cut you off but you only let him get those couple of words out before doing the same.

“In the beginning you did, yes! But where did it go, Shota?!” You yell, turning around to face him.

“(Y/N)..” He growls out but you don’t let him get any further, once again, as everything that you’ve been trying to bury bubbles out of you.

“It’s been a year since our last date! A fucking year! All we do anymore is sleep, fuck, and go to work! I can barely remember the last meal we shared together! I fucking understood what it was that I had signed up for but it got to a point where I didn’t even feel like we were in a relationship anymore!” You continue yelling, your whole body heated from anger and tears streaming down your face.

“Y- you’re.. You’re worse than nicotine, Shota! I keep telling myself ‘one more hit and then we’re through’ but I can’t fucking stay away from you! It’s like I can constantly taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you! Every single day, whether I’m with or without you, fucking hurts!” Your yells crumble into choked sobs and you bury your face into your hands.

Shota is standing across from you, the bed between you both, just staring at you in silence. His eyes are the slightest bit shiny, his face is scrunched up as if he is in pain, and it’s the most emotion that you’ve seen on his face in a year. His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out. You compose yourself enough to look up at him with a heated glare.

“Did you even love me back the same way I loved you, Shota?” You ask bitterly. You’re met with more silence and nod your head with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“We’re done for real this time, Aizawa. Don’t fucking call me again.” You spit out as you gather the rest of your stuff and make your way out of his apartment.

You sit in your car for a few minutes screaming and choking on hard sobs over the pain of your heart shattering. “This was the last fucking time!! I fucking swear it!!”  You scream at your steering wheel, praying to any and every higher power that may be out there to give you the strength to resist getting one more fucking hit.

Note ~ Someone please tell me that I am not the only one who will actively seek out angst, sometimes.. Is it healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to look for or write angst? Yes. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love! My amazing Lovelies, I love and appreciate all of you! <3

[beartitled]

Can you do some more comics with Francis mosses

I can, but the problem is

That I’m pretty much out of ideas and I’m progressively getting tired of tnmn fandom

Ppl who look at my tags probably noticed that 😓

More of my thoughts under read more for curious ppl

(short answer maybe I will do more, but I desperately need a break from tnmn)

! Just a general warning: this came out kinda long + sort of venty

Originally I planned to do 1 comic drop and move on, but got stuck bc ppl liked tnmn comics and kept asking for more (and still do-)

Generally I don’t mind doing more if the ideas are there, but I want to address this: I’m tired

I know blowing up is usually a good thing and I appreciate people enjoying my stuff

But it’s exhausting to see that tnmn is the only type of content which is relevant, to the point that my own projects or stuff I enjoy are just kinda.. ignored

It’s fair – again my blog is heavily fandom based

(+Tsp were and still is kinda the focus)

But with tnmn fandom it’s a bit… different

Maybe I’m biased and it’s just my negative experience with tiktok comments

Remember this art?

cleaning up transphobic comments was.. um tough

Again, I get that you can’t be in that neat bubble completely sheltered from negativity

Humans are just assholes by nature really/j

So I was expecting the backlash, but not that much

I think maybe tsp fandom spoiled me a bit (in a good way), bc I got a feeling that everyone in tsp was positive of any lgbt+ headcanons and just generally more supportive

(don’t get me wrong, there ARE problems in tsp community too, taking narrators design controversy into account as one of the examples)

Obviously every fandom always has it’s own issues, show me at least one fandom that didn’t have some sort of meaningless controversy or some sort of problematic people in it

It happens

But it leaves a bad taste in your mouth sometimes

And for me personally it only added to not so pleasant experience

The thing I also noticed, when I interacted with other fandoms

Ppl wrote positive stuff first and foremost, not really asking for anything

Here it’s just “hey more. I want more. Do more. Do this character. Do this. Do more.”

The only reason I kept doing more, because likes, reblogs, views – these comics get a ton of attention

there is a audience to please alright

But this thing comes with a pressure tho

and it shows

so let me illustrate

This bookcase

Is my shame

Because I was so rushing, I just copied and colour corrected this bookcase from my diploma comic and pasted it here in hopes for the best

💥IT LOOKS HORRIBLE OKAY💥

Usually it’s normal to take materials used in other projects

the not so normal part is

to leave it like that because your stress reducing tea doesn’t work and you don’t really have time to redraw it

my m en ta l s t a t e i s f i n e ah ah h ah ah

Ok but jokes aside: it’s really tempting, to just abandon everything and produce content like some sort of content farm

But I don’t want to, I’m forcing myself and it makes my art worse

Yes it’s subtle, new people won’t even see this

But I’m not improving

And I don’t enjoy just anxiously popping out comics because everyone keeps asking

I can give it my all to something when I’m passionate, but just “hey I’m getting attention” is not the best motivator

Attention like that does get to my head, I know that I will probably give in again and do more, bc I will compare my posts engagement

But what’s the point of recognition, when you feel.. so numb about it…

Sorry for a mountain of text and thank you for ppl who actually took their time to read it

It’s been building up for a while and I feel like people need to know the reason why I’m not so enthusiastic about making “more”

I’m not necessarily completely abandoning this fandom

I still plan to do ask/suggestions event for STP (I’m just making sure I can dedicate my time to it, that’s why it’s taking so long) and I can add tnmn to the mix

Like STP+tnmn kind of deal

But for now – I need a break

At least for a little bit

[blueskylinesx]

Tomato Red - Chapter Four

Parings: Jesse Cash x Female Reader

Warnings/Triggers: Language, anxiety/nervousness, sexual tension, fluff, masturbation, smut, self doubt, friends to lovers.

Summary: The local cafe/bookstore down the street was Jesse's usual hang out spot where he spent hours reading books and working on music. Until one day when he meets a new barista working the bookstore cafe. Suddenly, Jesse's reasons for visiting the bookstore down the road were no longer just for reading and work... but were suddenly meant for much more.

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry this chapter took me so long to post. I am trying to find a better schedule that doesn't go weeks without updates. The actual BIGGEST thank you to everyone for being so patience and understanding while I worked on this. I hope that the wait was worth it.

Tag List: @thefallennightmare @collidewiththesav @thatchickwiththecamera @cncohshit @lma1986 @arkiliastuff @lonelydragonlady @artificialbreezy

If you would like to be added to the tags list let me know! I would be happy to do so!😊

Thank you all SO fucking much for all the support on Tomato Red. It means the absolute world to me. Writing this story has been so fun and helps keep my mind occupied. I love you all so so so much!☕️🍅

JESSE 

I followed behind Y/N as we climbed up the stairs to her apartment. There was a slight breeze that blew in from the parking lot behind us causing pieces of her long hair to gently tickle across my face. I glanced down at my feet before carefully climbing the last step to the second story. When my eyes made their way back up I caught a glimpse of the underside of Y/N’s ass that was barely peeking out of her scrunched up black dress.

Her black tights framed her ass and her long legs perfectly and it took absolutely everything in me to fight off the thoughts that had been running through my mind all day. From the moment I first saw her step out of her apartment building, her sitting legs crossed in my passenger seat, and the entire time I stole glances up at her legs while she walked before me on this staircase.

We were both now standing in front of her door where a green leaf wreath hung atop the front. Y/N pulled out her keys from the front pocket of her purse and inserted it into the lock, twisting it to the right to unlock the door, then gently pushing it open.

A burst of freezing cold air quickly blew past the both of us as Y/N stepped inside and motioned for me to follow behind her.

“Holy fuck! I keep telling Kate to turn the AC back up before she leaves in the morning for work! I’m so sorry, if I would have known there was a potential hypothermia warning for my apartment, I would have told you to wear an extra layer of clothes.” Y/N said behind chattering teeth as she closed the door behind us and dropped her keys onto the small side table beside the door.

“It’s okay, I’m actually used to it. Noah keeps the AC in our house on a solid negative 7000 degrees at all times of the day, so my hypothermia tolerance is pretty built up.” I responded with a grin.

Y/N began slipping out of her boots and I halted in place before stepping any further into the front room. “Should I also be removing my shoes?”

“Oh sorry, it’s a habit. Kate is the absolute biggest neat freak I’ve ever met and her biggest pet peeve is shoes being worn inside the apartment. For mine and your sake, I ask that you please leave your shoes at the front door… otherwise I’m sure she’ll emerge somewhere from the shadows and have both of our heads.”

I chuckled at her comment and bent down to un-tie my shoelaces and slipped out of my white Adidas sneakers, “You know, your sister and Noah have a lot in common it seems.”

Y/N walked past me and I followed behind her as we made our way further into the front room. She clicked on the lamp that sat in the corner of the room next to the TV. “Is Noah also an extreme clean freak?” She asked before sitting down on the cream colored sectional.

She had one leg tucked underneath her butt and her other leg bent in front of her while she rested her chin atop her knee cap. Her eyes glistened in the dim light from the lamp which followed every step I took as I walked over to sit on the cushion beside her. Making sure not to sit too close and risk making her feel uncomfortable.

After getting adjusted, I rested my right arm against the back of the couch and my other arm on the arm rest beside me, turning back over to meet Y/N’s gaze. “Clean freak is an understatement. One time Michael and Jolly made this crock pot chili, this sounds so disgusting now that I’m rethinking about it… But they ended up forgetting about it and it sat out on the counter for like a week.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, “Oh god, I can feel Kate convulsing now.”

“Noah had a total conniption. He was sending out texts in our group chat for days about this crockpot of chili. Needless to say, once Michael and Jolly finally took care of it, Noah hid the crockpot for like a month.”

Y/N was now bursting out in a fit of laughter, “Oh my god, so he also sends out passive aggressive texts? Man, I might have to try to hook Noah and my sister up. They sound like they’d make for a total match in Heaven!”

“No kidding!” I responded back before brushing an anxious hand through my hair in an attempt to smooth out any knots from within my curls.

Y/N’s gaze never falling off of me.

She shifted a bit on the cushion which caused her to move slightly closer to me, “Well, did you want to watch a movie or something?” She asked with a slight bite to her bottom lip. “ I don’t know if you have any other plans but Kate probably won’t be home for a while. So we would have the big screen TV to ourselves for a few hours.”

I couldn’t ignore the excitement that grew in my stomach after hearing the words, “to ourselves.” This was the first time me and Y/N had ever been in a room alone with just the two of us, sitting this close to each other.

I made a quick glance down at her legs that were still framed in her black tights and licked my lips at the sight. Trying to get a hold of the thoughts that were slowly starting to creep back into my mind. “I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the night. So I’m all yours until you get sick of me.” 

All. Yours. God how I wished.

The tension in the air suddenly felt thick. I swallowed hard from the nerves that were beginning to course through me. 

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of you Jesse, If I’m being honest.” She began to twirl a loose thread that hung from the bottom of her dress around her finger, “ I’m usually never in the apartment by myself very often, but when I am I do get a little nervous. Kate says it’s because I spend too much time watching cheesy paranormal shows and they’ve corrupted my brain.” Y/N rolled her eyes at her comment.

“But, you being here right now has been the safest I’ve ever felt in the apartment by myself. Although technically I’m not by myself.” She let out another small chuckle. A piece of her hair was falling over the side of her face and I felt my hand reach to go move it. 

But I hesitated, like the coward that I always was.

“I hope this all doesn’t come off weird but I just wanted to say thank you, Jesse. For coming back to hang out with me so that way I wouldn’t have to be here all by myself.”

My cheeks began to feel hot and the nerves that were just pulsing through my body all vanished instantly. She felt safe with me here. Y/N would never know how much what she just said meant to me. How incredibly happy I was feeling in this moment here with her.

I raised my hand again from the back of the couch with this new confidence that was taking over me. I finally reached the side of Y/N’s face and gently tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear that was falling into her eye. Her face was so soft and so warm and I craved so desperately to leave my hand here forever.

I was now looking directly in her eyes, “I should be the one thanking you, Y/N. If I'm being completely honest, I agreed to come back here with you because I’m selfish and wanted more time with you today.” I let out a shaky breath. “I really enjoyed our lunch date and I was trying to think of ways that I could keep you in my company for just a few hours longer. I guess I must have been thinking too loudly because the universe must have heard me.” 

Another nervous chuckle escaped from my mouth, “I’m not great with words when I’m speaking out loud. I, I, I’ve always been better at being able to express myself on pen to paper. But, just know that I am extremely grateful and forever undeserving of being able to be sitting here next to someone so incredibly beautiful.”

It was Y/N’s cheeks now that were flushing pink and her eyes had a glossy shine to them. “You’re too incredibly sweet, Jesse. Truly.” She sniffled and quickly wiped away at her eyes. “I know this may be a bit off topic but, do you like popcorn?”

“I love popcorn!”

“I always gotta have popcorn anytime I watch a movie or a show. I can throw a bag in the microwave really quickly and then we can decide on something to watch?” Y/N asked before pushing her hands off her thighs and standing up from the couch.

“Sounds like a plan,” I answered excitedly, “Did you need any help?”

“Oh no, it only takes like two minutes and then I just toss it all in a big bowl and it’s ready to go. But thank you for offering.” Y/N turned to make her way into the kitchen and my eyes once again lingered on her legs and the bottom of her ass cheeks that peeked out from under her dress.

READER

My heart was absolutely racing. I needed a reason to be able to stand up and catch my breath. Jesse’s words lingered in my mind, no one has ever said anything like that to me. 

His words were so gentle and he held such an honest stare directly into my eyes while speaking them. For someone who allegedly wasn't any good with speaking words, this man about had me in tears just a few seconds ago. 

Letting out a deep breath I reached into the pantry to pull out a bag of popcorn. Before taking the pouch out of the plastic wrapper I bent down into one of the lower cabinets to pull out my usual big black bowl that I always used for popcorn nights.

Finally removing the plastic wrap and unfolding the pouch, I made my way over to the microwave and set the timer for the popcorn button. The light from inside the microwave casted a warm glow out into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter while watching the popcorn pouch rotate on the glass plate as it slowly began to inflate. The sounds of the kernels popping echoing off the walls inside.

I still couldn’t believe that Jesse was here in my apartment, alone with me. I had been fighting off nerves all day but once we were finally back in the apartment the intensity that grew between us was never this thick before. 

The loud beeping from the microwave brought me out of my thoughts and I reached over to open the door and carefully pull the bag out. Pulling both corner ends of the bag to let out the hot steam and then poured the contents into the bowl beside me on the counter. 

I then turned to head out of the kitchen and back into the front room with the warm bowl of popcorn in hand. The salty savory smell of warm butter filling my nostrils as I inched closer to the couch. 

Jesse’s back was facing me and his messy curls were laid up against the back of the sofa. I came up behind him to lay my hand over his eyes and bent down next to his ear, “boo!” 

Jesse jumped up and I saw a few goosebumps form on the side of his neck. “You walk so quiet I didn’t even hear you enter the room. You’re like a little Ninja!”

“I give all my thanks to the hours I’ve spent consuming Ghost Adventures, taught me a thing or two.” I said with a wink while I walked around the couch to find my seat next to Jesse again.

“Ghost adventures? They’re still making episodes for that? What are they on, like season five hundred?” 

I brought my legs up onto the cushion to sit criss cross and set the bowl of popcorn in my lap. Grabbing a few pieces and stuffing them inside my mouth. “Hey! Don’t hate on the Ghost Adventures. Zak was one of my biggest crushes in high school and if God is on my side, he will keep Zak airing on TV until the end of time.”

Jesse reached over to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl, “Sounds like I need to start picking up a hobby in ghost investigating then, now that there’s competition.”

My chewing came to a halt, “Competition?”

“Yeah, Zak is the enemy now and if I have any chance at making my way on the crush list it sounds like Ghost Investigating is in my near future.” Jesse replied with a sly wink.

Knots suddenly grew in my stomach. Both from intensity and excitement.

“Well, I’d say you already have an upper hand. You came to my rescue and are keeping me company so I wouldn’t have to be in this big, scary, apartment all by myself.”

An even bigger grin spread across Jesse’s face, “I’d come to your rescue any time you needed me to.”

My smile now reflected back at Jesse’s. Although we’ve only known each other for a short time, it felt like Jesse had been in my life forever. The way we are able to sit here in the big open space with just the two of us so comfortably, I’ve never been able to feel this safe with anyone so easily before.

I knew that Jesse’s words were genuine. That he wasn’t putting on some facade to try to impress me. He wasn’t here just because he gained anything out of it. He was here with me because he simply wanted to be. 

I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone before. Not once did I ever have any feeling that Jesse would try to do anything or make any sudden moves. 

Although, I wouldn’t fight him off if he did.

Jesse reached back over to my lap to grab another handful of popcorn. “Well, speaking of my arch nemesis, should we put on good ole Zaky poo so I can take some notes?”

I raised a brow and tapped my chin with two fingers in a thinking gesture, “Sure! But before I do, should I go grab one of my notebooks out of my room? Just to make sure you don’t miss anything important.”

“You’ve got jokes, Y/N. Put the show on, I’ll be the judge on whether or not Zak could keep up with me.”

I reached over to grab the remote off of the coffee table and clicked on the TV. I opened up the Roku menu and clicked on the HBO app to go into the recently watched menu. Scrolling past a few movies Kate and I had watched and then landed on Ghost Adventures. 

“Would you like to start with season one episode one? Or would you like something more recent?” I turned to ask Jesse.

The glow of the TV casted against Jesse’s face and his warm chocolate brown eyes moved along with the words he read from the description of the episode. His fingers lightly tapped on the back of the couch behind me and suddenly his shoulder looked like a comfy place to lay my head against. 

“Oh we gotta start from the beginning. Run episode one up baybay!!” 

I hit play on the remote and the opening for Ghost Adventures started echoing throughout the room. Jesse’s eyes were watching the screen intently while mine were too focused on him.

I kept shifting my focus from the side of his face, down to his shoulder, and back up. Internally fighting myself on if I should make this move or if it would weird him out. 

Earlier before starting the episode I had moved the half empty bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table before us. The only thing sitting in my lap now were both of my hands as my fingers anxiously intertwined with one another. 

Fuck it. 

I leaned over and into Jesse, laying my head gently onto his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

Jesse’s hand was no longer resting on the back of the couch. But instead, was now running through the few strands of my hair that fell onto my shoulder. “More than okay.” He whispered into the side of my head.

We sat like this for a while. Leaning into each other's embrace, soaking in the warmth that radiated off of both our bodies. 

Jesse’s chest rose and fell with his breathing and his warm breath would occasionally brush along the top of my forehead. After a few episodes Jesse had rested his hand on my shoulder that was furthest away from him. 

His arm was completely outstretched behind me and I felt like I was wrapped in my own safe Jesse cocoon. I wanted to lay here forever with him. 

My eyes grew heavier and heavier as each episode ended and another one began. I didn’t want to lose any time with him but the way I felt completely comfortable and at peace next to him put me in a state of bliss I never felt before.

After putting up a good fight I finally caved in to the tiredness that overtook me. Shutting my eyes and letting the rise and fall of Jesse’s breathing doze me off to sleep.

JESSE

“Does she really have a crush on this guy? This guy?!? He doesn’t even go into the scary rooms by himself! He sends his friends in there for him!!” I thought to myself. 

“I could definitely do a better ghost investigation job. Just wait until ERRA goes on tour again. I’m googling all the haunted places of every city we go to and I’m taking the boys with me and I’ll show her that Zak Bagans is a pussy.

Y/N’s warm breath fanned across my neck and it sent a shock down my entire body that broke me from my thoughts. I turned down to sneak a glance at her and was completely overwhelmed from happiness at the sight that I was staring down at.

Y/N had fallen asleep on my shoulder. Her head was tucked in the space between my neck and she looked so peaceful. 

Her legs looked uncomfortable tangled up in a mess at her side so I reached over to pick them up and gently laid them across my lap. I did my best to make sure to move her as little as possible in hopes not to wake her.

The warmth of her calves burnt through my pants to the skin on my thighs. Once she was positioned more comfortably, she rested her hands up against my chest. 

I couldn’t stop staring at the sight below me. I haven’t felt this happy in such a long time. I meant it when I told her I would always come to her rescue. But after tonight, after this moment, I knew that it was me who would need rescuing from falling so hard. 

A state of catatonic peace completely took over me. I could sit within this moment forever. Drifting off into euphoria left to wander in the touch of Y/N. 

I was completely lost inside the maze and I knew I would never be able to find the way out. I tilted my head down to rest up against Y/N’s. Our hair entangling in each other. 

I closed my eyes and let the feeling of euphoric bliss carry me away in the comfortability from being within her touch.

KATE

I stepped out of the car and let out a long exhausted breath as my feet met the pavement below me. 

I struggled to keep my eyes open the entire drive back to the apartment. I ended up having to stay two hours past close because while Kristina was mopping the floors in the back, she accidentally hit the pipe of the sink and it popped off causing water to leak out all onto the floor. 

Thankfully we were able to squeegee all the water out of the back door. But now I’m left to deal with the broken pipe issue. Which I left for tomorrow morning because I physically could not even imagine trying to lay under that sink and put that pipe back on after the day I had. 

I let out a long yawn and finally made my way up to mine and Y/N’s front door. I inserted my house key into the lock and slid the door open to step inside. 

Should have known Ghost Adventures would be playing on the TV, I thought to myself as I kicked off my shoes and set my purse down on the table next to the door.With a few more steps I was further into the front room and I had to do a double take at the sight before me. 

Y/N and Jesse were both sitting on the couch. Y/N’s legs were laying across Jesse’s lap, his arms were wrapped around her, their heads leaning against each other, and they were both soundly asleep.

I” can’t believe this girl had him watching Ghost Adventures on the first date.” I mumbled out loud to myself.

As I made my way past the couch something in my peripherals suddenly caused me to stop in place before heading off to my bedroom. 

A half empty bowl of popcorn sitting out on the coffee table with a few stray pieces of popcorn littered around it. She’s so lucky that Jesse is here or I’d dump this bowl of popcorn right over her head.

I turned to walk towards the coffee table trying my best to remain quiet so I wouldn’t wake them. Despite my aggravation at the sight of popcorn sprinkled across my coffee table, I didn’t want to interrupt this moment between the two of them. 

I leaned down to grab the popcorn but my exhausted eyes must not have realized the bowl wasn’t fully situated within my grasp. The bowl slipped from between my fingers and before I was able to make any attempt at catching it, the bowl had already made its way onto the floor with a loud crash following behind it. 

I froze in place staring at the now broken bowl and the stray pieces of popcorn that fell against the floor.

“What the hell?!” Y/N jumped up causing Jesse’s arms to fall down from her shoulders and now into her lap. She turned towards me, eyes half opened while they slowly adjusted to the room.

I bent down to begin picking up the pieces of popcorn from off the floor, “I am so sorry, I tried my best not to wake you guys.”

“When did you get home? What time is it?” Y/N asked, still attempting to wake up. 

Jesse’s eyes slowly opened and he let out a deep yawn before going to rub his eyes. “Oh shit, I guess we must have passed out.” 

Although the both of them now awake, they still remained in the same position I found them in. Coiled up into each other hesitant to be the first one to move.

Before reaching to grab another piece of popcorn from the floor a tattooed, red, mandala covered hand appeared next to me, “I’m so sorry about the popcorn. Here let me help you, do you guys have a broom anywhere? I don’t want you or Y/N cutting yourself on the glass pieces.”

I motioned towards the kitchen,“Yeah, in the laundry room hanging up behind the door. Just go through the kitchen and it’s the door in the back all the way towards the right.” 

“Shit, I am so sorry Kate. I didn’t realize how late it was and -“

I put up a finger to my mouth in a whisper motion, “Y/N, don’t even worry about it. Did I almost grow a few gray hairs the moment I spotted the popcorn on the table? Definitely. But, what’s more important is the fact that you and Jesse were cuddling together on the couch.” 

Y/N bent down next to me to help pick up the last few pieces of popcorn, “Shh, we will talk about it when Jesse isn’t less than two feet away.”

I winked an eye at her and Jesse soon reappeared back into the front room with the broom and dustpan. “Neither of you touched any of the glass, right?” 

“No sir, just the popcorn.” Y/N responded back while dusting off the salt and popcorn crumbs from her hands.

 Jesse was now between us and I reached out to grab the dust pan from him so I could hold it in place while he began to sweep up the broken glass pieces and left over popcorn remains. 

“Awh, shit. That was my favorite popcorn bowl too.” Y/N whined with her bottom lip stuck out in a pouting motion, “No other bowl will be the same.”

Me and Jesse both let out a chuckle and I reached down to help pull Y/N up off of the floor. “I’m sorry I broke your favorite popcorn bowl, looks like we will just have to go on a girls shopping trip so I can buy you a new one.”

“Oooh, I love me a good girls day shopping trip!” Jesse said with a high pitched tone.

“It’s a date then! Add it to your Ghost Adventures notes so you don’t forget, Jesse.” Y/N replied back with a smirk.

Once we had everything cleaned up and the living room was back in order I checked my phone to look at the time, “Holy shit! I did not realize it was already almost three in the morning! I need to get to bed, I have to open the cafe in the morning and fix the damn sink.”

“The sink? What happened to the sink?” Y/N asked.

I slid my phone back into my pocket, “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just gonna go to bed and wallow in my own self pity. But, you two have fun out here and make good choices.” I turned to walk down the hallway to make my way towards my bedroom at the end of the hall. Leaving Y/N and Jesse alone to themselves once again.

READER

“Well, it’s getting extremely late and my nosey ass roommates are probably up pacing the house wondering where I’m at.” Jesse said while anxiously stuffing his hands into his front pockets.

My heart sank at his words, knowing that this meant he was leaving. Forever wishing that I could turn back time and restart the night over again. 

I began to twiddle my fingers, “Well, I had a lot of fun today. Thank you so much again for picking me up and taking me to lunch and for also hanging out with me.” 

“Anytime, Y/N. Hopefully we can do this again soon. Maybe next time we can have our Ghost Adventures marathon at my place and I can introduce you to my own special popcorn bowl.”

“I would like that very much, Jesse.”

Jesse began walking over towards the front door and I followed closely behind him. Scared that if I let him get too far ahead of me that I would lose any extra time with him. He bent down and began sliding his sneakers back onto his feet.

“Let me walk you down to your car?” I asked from behind him.

“You are insane if you think I’m going to have you walk me down and then have you walk back upstairs at night by yourself. But, I won’t put up a fight if you walk me to the first step at the top of the staircase.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fine. I guess that’s a fair compromise.” I reached for the door handle and pulled back the door for me and Jesse to step outside into the chilly LA air. Jesse walked in front of me and I followed after him, closing the door behind us.

I held my arms tightly crossed against me to help shield me from the cold. We both came to a stop once we reached the first step and I felt my heart begin to sink again knowing that Jesse was now actually about to leave.

Jesse turned around to face me before stepping out onto the concrete stairs below him. He took a step closer into me, our chests were now barely inches apart. The warmth of his body heat casted onto me like rays of sunlight. Warming both my skin and my heart.

He leaned down to leave a kiss on the middle of my forehead, “I had a really wonderful time with you tonight, Y/N. I haven’t felt this genuinely happy in a real long time.” He pulled away to look down at me and brushed the few strands of hair behind my ear that were blowing across my face. 

I outstretched both arms around his lower back to hold Jesse in a hug. He immediately leaned into me and I felt his arms wrap around my back pulling me in tighter to him. We both stood there for a few moments in silence holding each other as the sound of the wind echoed off the apartment buildings.  

I spoke my thoughts out loud into Jesse’s chest, “I don’t want to let you go.” My grip tightening on the back of his shirt.

“I don’t want to let you go either. But with the goosebumps that have taken over your skin tells me that I should let you get back inside to the warm - well… warmer air I should say, now that Kate’s back home.” 

Jesse rubbed his hand up and down my back and I reluctantly let go of him. Letting my arms fall back down at my side. “Please text me when you get home so I know you made it safe.”

“Will do, now get inside and go get warm. I will see you again very soon, beautiful.” Jesse laid another swift kiss to the top of my head before turning to descend the staircase and making his way to the parking lot and back into his car.

JESSE

I pulled into the driveway of my LA home and put the car in park. Shifting in the seat while replaying all of tonight in my mind. The scent of Y/N still lingering in my nostrils. I pulled the key out of the ignition and noticed a strand of her hair was stuck to my sleeve. 

Pushing open the car door and stepping out onto the pavement driveway I then made my way  to the front door. I let out a yawn as I inserted my house key into the lock and made my way into the house. “WELL, WELL, WELL, would you look at who's finally home?” Michael’s voice echoed through the front room.

Him and Jolly were still up, both stretched out across the black sectional couch. They had the playstation casted on the TV and from the looks of the snacks that spread across the coffee table, had been here playing video games for the last few hours.

I continued my way into the front room, Jolly’s head now peaking out from the back of the couch, “Jesse dear, did you make good choices?”

“Is it going to be like this every time I walk through the front door now?” I responded back to Jolly with a laugh.

“We just aren’t used to our boy being out past three am. They grow up so fast.” Michael said in a mock crying tone. 

I rolled my eyes and headed up the stairs, “I’m going to bed. I’ll deal with you two idiots tomorrow.” A wide grin still stretched across my face. I made my way into the hallway and finally into my bedroom. 

I slid my shoes off and undressed out of my clothes from today. Opting for just a pair of blue sweatpants. Before I slid my shirt off over my head, Y/N’ strand of hair from earlier caught my attention and I picked it up and walked over to lay it across my pillow.

I pulled back the covers and laid my tired limbs onto the mattress below me. The coldness of the sheets spread against the bare skin of my chest and back. Before finally turning over to close my exhausted eyes, I pulled my phone off of the nightstand that stood next to my bed.

I pulled up Y/N’s contact and began typing out a text,

I made it back home safe and sound. Thank you again for making today the best one I’ve had in a while. I hope you have sweet dreams, beautiful. Talk soon. 

After hitting send I clicked the side button to turn off the screen and set my phone back onto the nightstand. Finally turning over to rest my tired limbs.

JESSE

I leaned over the kitchen countertop while pouring myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, the sound of the cereal pieces bouncing off the bottom of the glass bowl echoed back at me. I slept in longer than intended but given the fact that I didn’t fall asleep until almost four in the morning, it was a miracle that I was even awake before noon.

Noah quickly came bouncing into the kitchen behind me and headed over towards the fridge, pulling out a carton of coconut water. He screwed off the cap and took a large gulp before coming up to stand next to me. Resting his back against the cold tile of the countertop.

Silence stood between us but I knew that his questions would soon follow. I already knew Jolly and Michael had already told him about me getting home late this morning. With my bowl now filled to the top with milk and cereal I hopped up onto the countertop and began shoving spoonfuls into my mouth.

My legs hung off the counter and I swayed them back and forth from anticipation. I then glanced over at Noah who was now scrolling on his phone, still taking sips of coconut water every so often.

Jolly now emerged into the kitchen suddenly breaking the silence in the air, “well good morning lads.” He spoke while walking over to the sink to rinse out his white coffee mug that had Jolly etched into the front. 

“Good morning.” Me and Noah both responded back. Noah was still intently looking down at his phone. My curious eyes quickly flashed over to get a sneak at his screen and I saw he had been scrolling through a profile on Instagram. Before I could stare any longer to see whose profile he was so intensely focused on, Jolly jumped up onto the counter next to me, bumping his shoulder against mine.

“Sooooo, did you use protection?” Jolly’s dumb face now staring holes into the side of my cheek as he raised his eyebrows up and down.

Noah nearly choked on his coconut water, “Wait! Protection?! Hold the fuck up!” He slammed the carton box against the counter, “Jesse, you slept with Y/N?”

I let out a deep sigh of frustration as I set the bowl of cereal down on my lap, “Ignore Jolly, he’s an idiot. But no, I did not sleep with Y/N since everyone is so eager to know every detail of my relationship with her.”

I hopped off the counter and walked my bowl over to the sink to begin rinsing it out. Noah came up behind me to place a hand on my shoulder, “Hey man I’m sorry for assuming. It just shocked me is all.”

“No, no,” I waved him off. “I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just, Y/N isn’t like that. She’s a really sweet, down to earth girl and I’m just so scared of fucking this up. We had a really great night together last night. Noah, this girl…” I turned to face him, “She’s fucking incredible. When I’m with her my anxiety is through the fucking roof. But I’ve also never felt more calmer and at peace than when she’s at my side.”

“That’s a good thing, Jesse. Let yourself enjoy this, you deserve it. You’re not going to fuck it up, so get those thoughts out of your head.” Noah removed his hand from my shoulder to begin rummaging it through the messy ends of his hair. “I’ve known you forever man, and if there is anyone in this world who deserves ultimate happiness it's you, Jess.”

“Oh! I agree with Noah!” Jolly shouted over from the kitchen table where he was now sitting eating a piece of buttered toast. “I’m sorry for fucking with you so much and giving you a hard time. It’s all jokes man. We truly are very happy for you and hope that this situation with Y/N works out the way you want it to.”

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.” 

“Off topic but Jess I may need your help if you’ve got time.” Noah shifted on his feet, “ I was up late last night in the studio working on some stuff for Bad Omens. I put together a little something and just wanted to run it by you.” 

“Oh for sure man, I have time now if you want to head over there and we can give it a listen, see what you got cookin.” 

Noah motioned towards the exit of the kitchen and I followed behind him to the studio room right down the small hallway next door. He pulled out the black office chair from the desk and sat down in front of his silver macbook to pull up his mixing program.

I came up beside him to sit in one of the extra office chairs and waited as he searched through the tracks of songs. “I’ve had this idea floating around in my brain for a little while, of doing like an official unofficial revamped album. It would follow the storyline of the Concrete Jungle comics. I thought it would be cool to get a bunch of different artists and do revamped or remixed versions of the songs off the record.”

“Have you spoken with Matt yet about this? I asked while raising my brows.

“Not yet, I’m saving that conversation with him for another day because I already know he’s going to give me shit for working when I’m supposed to be taking time to myself. But you know how I am. I can’t focus unless I’m working on something.”

This was true, Noah had always been one to keep himself busy, to the point of exhaustion. How he had managed to even find time or the motivation to work on music while being on the road so much with his band was something that I really admired in my friend. Noah was one of the most dedicated and hard working people I knew. It was one of the most honorable qualities about him.

I let out a slight chuckle, “Yeah well, Matt is definitely going to have your ass about all this work you’ve been doing. But it sounds like a sick idea man. I’m excited to see what you’ve got planned.”

“Ah! Here it is.” Noah pulled up one one of the tracks and began to let it play, his voice coming out of the speakers in a melodic tone. 

This life was all it had to be. Designed, but not for you and me. I never needed you to be anything more than human.

He let a bit more play and there were now no words, only back tracks playing. “This is sort of all I have right now. It’s still a work in progress but, remember when we were out on tour together and you, JT, and I were sitting back in the greenroom one night after the show and I had mentioned the idea about a ERRA and Bad Omens collab?”

My mind quickly flashed back to that night of me and my friends sitting around on the couch in the venue greenroom, sharing laughter, and probably all in desperate need of a shower. “Yeah, I do remember us all talking about working on something together. Is that what this is here?” I asked while pointing to his macbook.

“Yeah, once we got back home the idea just never really left my mind. I know you guys are busy working on your new upcoming album and have some shows coming up soon, so I know you guys will be pretty strapped for time.” Noah turned in the chair to face back at me, “But, I think an ERRA/Bad Omens collab would be fucking sick. Plus, I need your brain on this one. This song needs some of those intense Jesse Cash lyrics.”

I sat up eagerly and stretched my arms out above my head to crack my limbs, “Fuck yeah man, I’m down. I know the rest of the guys will be down. JT’s been on my ass for months about letting him know when we finally decide to make up our minds and set aside the time. I’ll call him up now and we can run over everything with him.”

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and pulled up JT’s contact, selecting the facetime call button and positioning the screen so that me and Noah were both sitting in frame. The phone picked up and JT’s face emerged on the screen before us, “Well look at these two beautiful boys!” 

The three of us began discussing our ideas for this new upcoming track…

READER

I let out a long yawn and stretched out my arms over my chest. I worked a short shift this afternoon and the second I came back to the apartment I sprawled out across the couch and took a nap.

Kate stuck behind to deal with the broken sink pipe. When I showed up this afternoon she was laying on the floor in an attempt to duct tape it back on, but when Kristina had begun washing dishes later in the day water was still leaking out from the sides. So I ended up spending the last hour of my shift helping her search for plumbers.

As I continued to lay here in the quiet space, memories from last night replayed in my mind. Jesse’s bright smile forever taking up all the space. The scent of him still lingered on the couch pillow that rested beneath my head and it brought me back to when I was wrapped up in his arms, the safest place I’ve ever felt. 

I spent the whole day missing him from the moment my alarm went off this morning. Every time the lobby door to the cafe would open I would glance up, hoping to see his head full of curls coming my way. He had sent me a text last night letting me know he had made it home safe. I hadn’t had time yet today to text him back. Work was busy per usual, and then with the whole sink escapade time unjustifiably slipped from my fingers. 

I reached over to grab my cell phone from off of the coffee table and clicked it on, adjusting my eyes from the brightness of the screen that casted onto my face. I tapped on the text message box to open up the thread of messages, but the last one from Jesse was the one he had sent last night.

I so desperately wanted to text him, my fingers danced over the letters on the screen from anticipation. But I was hesitant, scared that I may be coming off as too needy and desperate. But I also didn’t want him to think that I was avoiding him since I never got the chance to respond to his message. 

With a nervous sigh, I began typing out a message on the screen before me.

Hey you, I’m sorry I am texting back so late. Work was crazy busy and I unfortunately didn’t have any time to be on my phone. But, I’m back home for the night and just wanted to send you a text to say that I hope you had a good day today. Hope to hear from you soon. 

I clicked the send button and then pushed myself up from off the couch. I headed over to the kitchen and grabbed the jug of orange juice from the fridge, pouring it into the pink plastic cup that sat on the counter before me. Then headed back towards my room with the cup in hand.

Before reaching for the door handle of my room my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I quickly stepped into the room before me and clicked on the light, eagerly pulling my phone out from behind me. Jesse’s name flashed across the screen followed by a text message.

Jesse🌺:Hey you, you must have known I was thinking about you all day because you texted me right as I was just about to ask if I could facetime you, you got a second? 

The familiar heat that always found its way to my cheeks returned and a wide smile spread across my face. I took a small sip of my orange juice and then set it on top of the nightstand beside my bed before typing out my reply.

Reader: I was actually just about to hop in the shower but for you, I can always make time.

I sat down on my bed and laid my back up against the pillows that rested on my headboard then tucked my legs under the covers and pulled them up to rest along my chest. I tucked a few stray hairs behind my ears and did a quick once over in my phone camera to make sure I looked presentable.

I had still been in my work clothes from earlier that consisted of a pair of black leggings and a long sleeve lilac purple cropped sweatshirt. My hair still tied up in the messy bun I lazily threw it up in this morning. 

My phone began ringing from within my palm and I turned the screen over to see Jesse’s facetime contact. I let out a breath before finally clicking the green answer button. The screen quickly went black and then before I knew it I was greeted with a sight that almost made my heart stop beating.

Jesse was sitting behind his desk wearing a white tee shirt and a brown Carhartt beanie. His curls sticking out from the bottom like chocolate waves. He had a brown acoustic guitar resting on his lap with the black guitar strap wrapped around his shoulder.

“Hey, you.” Jesse said with a wink.

I pulled both my knees up and rested my phone down on my knee caps to angle the screen facing downwards at me, “Hey yourself.” I had to quickly stop myself from biting my lip, I’d never seen Jesse in a beanie before but it was definitely doing things to me.

“I hope I didn’t bother you, I wasn’t sure if it was a good time or not but I just really wanted to see your pretty face again.”

My voice stuttered and I quickly cleared my throat, “Well, I’m sorry that you called when I happen to be looking like a garbage can.” I looked down at the outfit that rested against my skin and then back up at Jesse, “you caught me before I could get in the shower and into clothes that don’t reak of coffee and pastries.”

“You look absolutely breathtaking, Y/N. Just like you do every time I see you. Jesse adjusted the guitar and began strumming a few chords. My eyes watching him out of pure adoration. Still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that it was me who was sitting here with this as my view. “Since when do you play guitar?” I asked while playing with the string of the blanket next to me.

“Oh yeah, it makes sense you would be wondering that.” Jesse responded while laughing. “I actually have played guitar since I was super young. Remember when I told you that I was better at putting words to pen and paper? Well, it’s true. I spend a lot of my time writing music…”

He paused for a moment, “This usually isn’t the first thing I tell people because it feels like boasting and I never want it to come off in a way that is taken as the only thing I have to offer. But, I play guitar in both of my bands.”

I eagerly sat up in bed, my phone nearly falling off my knees and onto the mattress. “Shut the fuck up!” I exclaimed excitedly. 

Jesse let out a loud fit of laughter and it sounded like pure bliss to my ears. I wish I could sit and listen to it forever. He stretched his arm out towards his phone to position it so he was more centered in frame, “I’m totally serious, I’ve played in my band ERRA ever since I was in high school. I started my own solo project Ghost Atlas a few years after because I can never silence my brain from writing mode.” 

“I was about to ask you if you were fucking with me but, the smile that has been casted on your face the entire time from behind the words you just spoke gave me the answer to that question.” I pushed the few stray hairs back behind my ear that fell out from me sitting up a few minutes ago. “Soooo, are you going to play me something?”

“Oh man, the pressure!” I let out a giggle at his response. “Hmm, and what do I get if I do?” Jesse asked me while tapping his fingers on the bottom of his chin.

“How about a fresh plate of orange scones and another Ghost Adventures marathon with me?” Jesse was now looking directly into my eyes through the screen and the intensity burned so heavily between us it set fire to the inside of my palms.

“You know, I don’t put on a private show for just anybody.” He readjusted the strap on his shoulder, “The orange scones and the Ghost Adventures sounds very intriguing and I’m down, but I may have one more request to add to that list.” It was Jesse who was now biting at his lip.

“My band ERRA actually has a few shows coming up. We are playing at a venue here in downtown LA this upcoming weekend. I’ve seen you at work being the cutest and best barista there is. But, would you do me the honor of coming out and seeing me at work?” Pink hues casted from the skin that rested atop his cheekbones. His fingers nervously strumming the strings of the guitar in front of him as he awaited my answer.

My heart sank at the question he had just hit me with. I could tell he was incredibly nervous to ask me and I always found comfort in knowing that Jesse was just as nervous around me as I was around him. My heartbeat picked up out of excitement and I already knew my answer the second he finished asking it.

“Jesse, I would be absolutely honored to come out to the show and watch you.” I spoke with absolute honesty behind my words. I was incredibly excited at the thought alone of seeing Jesse perform on stage. 

“Awesome, then we have ourselves a deal. I’ll text you all the information of the show with the set times and when doors open. I’m going to text our merch guy Brennan and tell him to add your name to my guest list.”

“Ooohh I’m fancy now. I have my own personal spot on the Jesse Cash’s setlist.” I said in a teasing tone. Jesse jokingly rolled his eyes at my remark. “But seriously, are you sure it’s okay if you add me to your guest list? I don’t mind paying!” 

“I’m the one who asked you to come out, I would not make you pay. Plus, what if you think we fucking suck?” Jesse asked behind another fit of laughter. “I couldn’t live with myself if I invited a beautiful girl out, made her pay, and then she had to stand and be witness to the absolute worst show of her life.”

“Oh shut up.” I giggled. “I highly doubt it will be the worst show of my life. Plus I’m about to get a little sneak peak so I’ll be the judge of whether or not I should text you later to ask you to take my name off the list.”  I said jokingly.

“Ouch, that was harsh. You know just for that I have the perfect song that I’m going to play for you, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah?” I teasingly bantered back.

“Yeah, I call this one, “Aaron go check it out, by yourself.” Jesse began strumming notes on the guitar and cleared his throat before singing out the words of his song.

“Ohh FUCK YOU Zak Bagans, you don’t even go in the scary rooms by yourself.

Ohhhh FUCK YOU Zak Bagans, your my arch nemesis 

and I will be a better ghost investigator than yoooouuuu.”

Laughter overtook me and shook through all my bones. “Oh my fucking god.” I put my hand in front of my mouth and continued to laugh into my palm as Jesse still continued to sing. His melodic voice echoed off my four bedroom walls and back at me. Despite his goofy lyrics, his voice was absolutely beautiful and it took my breath away.

“Ohhh FUCK YOU Zak Bagans you’re a pussy!

They should have named the show, Zak Bagans SUCKS!

Ohhh FUCK YOU Zak Bagans you don’t have shit on meeeeee!”

Jesse then started strumming erratically, “And that will be all for tonight folks. Thank you!” He lifted his hand out and did a mock bow down at the phone before lifting the guitar over him and placing it back onto the stand at the side of his desk.

“So, what did you think?” Jesse asked me after returning back into frame. 

“Yeah, so I think I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I’m afraid I might not be able to make it this weekend.” I said with a teasing smile.

“Ah I get it, my lyrics do tend to have that effect on people. They’re so beautiful and heart wrenching they just really give all those intense feels. Makes sense you would be feeling a little off from the intensity of the rawness of the words.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed this hard. My cheeks were sore from smiling so much and my throat was raspy from all the laughter that escaped my mouth. “You sir are the cutest idiot I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“You said cutest, so I’ll take it!” The large smile never left Jesse’s face, “You know, you’re pretty cute yourself.” Jesse leaned down closer to the camera and rested his chin against his hands that were laying flatly on the desk before him. 

My smile also never leaving my face, “Well, when can I see you again? These facetime calls are special but admittedly it pales in comparison to being able to see your cute face in person.” I bit my lip in anticipation, tugging on the dead skin to the side.

“Hmm, how about tomorrow morning first thing, so I can have you and those orange scones you promised?

I stuck out my bottom lip in a pouty motion, “That’s too long, I was thinking more along the lines of right now. That is, if you have time?”

A devilish grin now spread across Jesse’s face, “For you Y/N, I can always make time.” He tapped the phone screen to read the time, “How does a milkshake and some french fries sound? There’s this diner that is open pretty late and they have the best orange dreamsicle shake I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh, it sounds like my orange scones have some competition.”  I raised a brow, “Looks like I also now have an arch nemesis.”

Jesse let out a chuckle and pushed his hands off of the desk to stand up, “I’m grabbing my jacket and I’ll be over in ten.”

“Can’t wait.” I responded and then disconnected my facetime call with Jesse. With excited jitters coursing through my veins I eagerly jumped out of bed and put on a fresh pair of clothes. Opting for a pair of ripped blue jeans and a cropped light pink tee shirt that had engraved flowers on the front. I slipped on my usual pair of black platform Converse and grabbed my oversized gray cardigan off of the hook from the back of my door. Pulling my hair out of the messy bun and throwing it into a quick messy side braid that rested against my left shoulder. 

Before finally stepping out of my room I reached over to my dresser to apply a few layers of the orange creamsicle chapstick I bought the other day. A devilish thought creeping into the back of my brain before finally stepping out of my bedroom to make my way towards the front room.

I wonder if the taste of my lips will live up to this infamous diner milkshake.

With one hand resting on the door handle, I twisted it pulling the front door open to be met with the cool summer breeze of the late LA air. Making my way down the steps and into the parking lot as Jesse’s car pulled up in front of the building. The parking lot lamp shone through the windshield glass to highlight the brown pool of curls that rested out from under his beanie.

I excitedly pushed off of the last step, the bottom of my shoe kissing the pavement of the sidewalk below me. I neared Jesse’s car and as I came closer he emerged from the drivers side door, “Hey you.” He said with a grin.  “Hey yourself.” I responded as he came around to open the passenger side door for me to climb inside. The adventure of our second night together officially just beginning.

[chris-continues]

Unconventional, Unusual, and Unapologetically Yours

Inspired by this text post I made!

In which you enter a relationship with an unfamiliar creature.. yet he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

TAGS: @beanibon @vashfantasy @h4venpha @lune010

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Available on ao3!

NOTES: I cranked this out in like less than an hour I think. Uncanny Vash makes my fingers type like the fucking wind LMAO- ALSO I MIGHT DO PT2 <33 ^^lmk if you don’t want to be tagged! Some people asked and I know others like uncanny Vash a lot, so I thought you’d enjoy. I tried to add a bit of creature Vash as well, please feel free to comment/reblog if you enjoyed! And lmk any ideas you have :D

Your boyfriend deviated from what one would call the standard partner. 

Well, not that such a thing was negative. He was by far one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, that much you noted from your first encounter. An abandoned warehouse, where you’d been forced to do an odd job when tight for cash. “Get a photo of the infamous Humanoid Typhoon!”, they said, giving you directions out of town. The warehouse then had appeared nothing short of shady, with its shabby walls, unfamiliar state, and a slight mildewy smell you weren’t too fond of. 

That would soon change, becoming your safe haven, as you recalled how you’d met. 

Your tentative steps inside, phone flashlight beaming as you explored for a good few minutes before- “Ah!” You jolted, the wide smile of a tall man, startling you. He apologetically waved his hands before you, attempting to reassure you, “Aw god, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“It’s uh, fine, yeah.” You cleared your throat, turning your flashlight down slightly, “Who are you?” “Vash.” He chirped, quite literally. “And you?”, he offered his hand, ever so charming. If you recalled correctly, his pupils dilated a bit too much at the touch of your hand against his.

Humanoid. Not human.

It took you an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots, your attempt to search for the man of the hour futile (or successful, depending on how you viewed it). Searching for any extending corridors, or perhaps a hidden room. His company was originally slightly unsettling, as he was a stranger just tagging along for the ride, but he had no ill intent and with each sweet remark you found your night to not be a complete failure, swearing you’d return next weekend, same time to find the Humanoid Typhoon together. 

It turned into a game of stalling. 

Searching the same wall as last week, fingers tapping at the eroding wood of the building. His fingertips had brushed yours a handful of times as he blamed it on the darkness, a slight squeak leaving him each time, and maybe it was your fatigue riddled mind but you almost swore a slight glow emanated from him each time. 

After the 3rd week of searching you really didn’t care about finding this Typhoon guy anymore, figuring he was just some urban legend. Why did you keep going? For Vash, of course. He was a great listener, funny, and seemed to enjoy your company, and you really enjoyed his, and by god were you absolutely horrendous when it came to romance. So continued your pining of poking and prodding at an abandoned warehouse at the late hours of night. Too nervous to ask for his number (you found out later he didn’t have a phone), too shy to initiate anything further. 

Aha, until one night. 

Your searching had become less investigative of the building and moreso of each other, legs crossed and sitting in the middle of the warehouse with music playing from your phone on occasion. Discussions ranging from god knows what, each interesting in their own right. What confused you was that something as mundane as you telling a story in which you got your neighbors mail left him at the edge of his seat, but you simply chalked it up as him being a good listener and eager to engage in conversation, (that being partially true). Exhaustion creeped at you one night though, your horrendous sleeping habits having caught up with you as you rested your head against the derelict floorboards and gazed up at the ceilings. 

Vash had a habit of humming to fill in silences, and much like the rest of him you found yourself inexplicably drawn to it.. So sue you for being soothed to sleep by such a thing.

He didn’t tell you until much later, but that night he’d let his hand graze the back of yours, feathers peeking from beneath his jacket with the slight bumps ever so comforting against your skin. You let out the cutest hums, rolling just a bit closer to him.

His breath caught in his throat, as he let himself touch your hand just a bit more. His long, inhuman tongue laved over his several rows of sharp, unnatural teeth in a fidgeting motion. His pupils expanded, admiring you. You always appeared a bit nervous or tense around him- of course that diminished over time, he noted, but why were you so nervous? God, he hated being like this sometimes. To be.. A normal human companion of yours was something he found he craved. Every week, waiting for you in this dingy, subpar hiding place..

You were the highlight of his week. 

He had to hold himself back from instinctively curling into your side, wrapping his lanky limbs around you and allowing his vertebrae to extend to his full height.. Several feet taller than you. He wants to engulf you whole, keep you forever close and cherish you with chirps you couldn’t possibly understand. 

When you awake, he lays beside you. His body is as stiff as the wooden planks lining the warehouse floors, glancing at you as you finally make a move.

You scoot an inch closer.

His breath hitches in his throat. 

He can feel a draft making its way through the building,your body shivering as you shift just a bit closer.

“You.. are you cold?” He hesitates, arm stiffening as the fabric of his jacket meets the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Yeah, kinda..” You murmur, eyes darting away from him then back to him- god, you could stare at him and never tire of it. 

Your arms are pressed against one another, his fingers- wait, they’re uncharacteristically smooth, toying with the end of your sleeve. Oh god. The cutest guy you’ve ever met and he’s- oh god- you’ve dreamt of this more than you’d care to admit, hugging a pillow to sleep most nights, mind drifting to the cute guy you meet every weekend outside of town. 

Your fingers graze his once more, breathing pausing once more.

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

You think you’re going to die.

He chirps happily, and with your curiosity getting the better of you, you can’t help but ask, “What’s that noise mean?”

He blinks owlishly, sheepish smile crossing his face, “Oh uh, I don’t know really. It just.. happens?”  

“Ah, mhm. That’s fair.”

You peek down to your intertwined hands, only to see-

“Vash?”

His mouth gapes open to speak, and you get another peek of his- oh god, now that it’s morning you can see better.

Rows upon rows of his sharp teeth. His mouth forcibly staying together in one piece rather than three. Unnaturally long limbs. Feathers sprouting from him. 

“You.. you’re not human, are you?”

Oh god. He scared you. He’s so ugly, and you’re frozen, backing away slightly- “Oh my god you’re not- are you?”

The Humanoid Typhoon.

“Yeah. I.. I am.”

It takes you a moment to collect your bearings, mouth agape. “You.. you  never planned to hurt me, right?” Your eyes are wide, hands in your lap as you now sit up, legs criss crossed. 

“God no! Never! Oh god, I'm so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, hiding it from the peeking rays of sunlight peering through the wood of the warehouse. “I don’t try to hurt anyone really, it just.. happens.” He swallowed thickly, “You can leave, if you’d like. I won’t hold it against you.”

You shake your head adamantly, “No, no I trust you. Just surprised me is all. I’ve never seen anything like it, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Vash.” Your hands fidget within your lap, “I enjoy your company and you not being human won’t change that.”

He peeked at you from his fingers, pupils dilated. “..really?”

You nodded. 

He certainly didn’t appear very convinced, but as you offered one of your previously fidgeting hands out to him.. he took it. Hand much larger in yours, inhumanly smooth- you found upon closer inspection he had no fingerprints. 

You stayed like that for god knows how long, until you checked your phone, “Shit! I’m sorry Vash, I’ve got to-” Aw god, his face, he was so cute..

“I’ll return soon.”

He walked you to your car parked outside. 

Your next few visits were a lot more different. He never directly said it, but before long you started staying the night, pressed close to one another, easing closer and closer to one another with hesitant touches. His eyes pleaded for your company each time you left, a small pout forming on his lips. 

You hated leaving him each time. 

Your first kiss was sweet, clumsy, and absolutely adorable. Just like him. 

He laid atop you, the world’s best weighted blanket, wrapping his unproportionate, lanky limbs around you to pull you flush against him. “I like you Vash. A lot.” You admitted into his hair quietly, shyly kissing the crown of his head. He chirped excitedly, a few clicks escaping him as he shifted to have your eyes meet, lips peppering pecks on your cheeks, jaw, and the corners of your lips. 

You both were too nervous to initially confess, just basking in one another’s company. 

“Like you too.” A series of inhuman noises escaped him, elated by your flustered giggles. 

He almost felt bad for temporarily silencing you with a shy and quick peck to your lips. His eyes widened, before going in for another. 

Another, another, another, purring contentedly as he pressed closer to you in hopes to mold you both into one. 

Your hands tentatively reached to cradle his face, grinning into the dorky kiss you two shared. 

Now though? You glance at him, wrapped in a mini nest you two share atop your bed. He nuzzles into your neck, teeth gently nibbling at the flesh as the rays of morning peek through your bedroom window. His legs hang off the bed with how tall he is, but he couldn’t care less.

Is it unconventional? Sure. Unusual? Most definitely.

But you’ve never been more happy than you have with him.

[hyprfixate]

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part four

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 5.7k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au, gang au, minho has some issues to work out

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: I had to cut this chapter in half and then do some plucking cause... I got a bit out of hand. Please enjoy this longer than usual chapter to make up for my constant disappearances.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tag list: @mal-lunar-28 @dutchessskarma @weakforskz @liknws @goddessraven2371 @beaann @deadpoetsandhoney @poody1608 @soobs-things @3nch1i @babyphotos0325 @skz1-4-3 @justcallmemitchie96 (comment on this post to be added!)

part one - part two - part three - part four

It was so silent in the room, you could hear your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You weren’t entirely sure what being soul ties meant, but with the way the atmosphere changed, you could tell everyone was now on edge.

Chan spoke, his voice heavy with trepidation. “Min…”

Minho shook his head and stood up from his place on the floor. “No,” he said. “I’m not doing this. Fuck this.”

And before anyone could stop him, Minho pushed past Chan and all but ran down the stairs. 

You stared after him, your body almost frozen in shock. You certainly weren’t the only one either; behind you, Hyunjin had his hand slapped over his mouth, and you were almost sure Chan hadn’t blinked in the last 30 seconds.

After a beat of heavy silence, the three of you turned to look at each other, and despite your overwhelming ignorance, you spoke first.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Chan sighed as you spoke, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “He always does this,” he muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “I’m so sorry to leave, but I’m gonna have to go after him. Stay here with Hyunjin, and I’ll send Jisung up when I leave.”

He paused on the top step, stopping to look at you with an apologetic yet firm look. “We’ll explain everything when we can. But you have to stay here.”

And with that, he was gone.

You turned your attention back to Hyunjin, whose wide eyes were fixed on the staircase. He glanced at you for a second, an untraceable emotion shading his face, before fixing his eyes on the floor.

Your stomach twisted, almost feeling ashamed of yourself. What have I done? you thought. And what the fuck do I do now?

“Did…” your voice was tentative in the silence. “Did I just ruin Minho’s life?”

“No,” Hyunjin whispered. “I’m just… I never thought– we never thought we would… his soul tie?”

For some reason, guilt clouded your mind. Not for Minho, though you weren’t feeling particularly negative toward him anymore, but for Hyunjin and Chan. They both looked genuinely stressed at the revelation, which made you think that the deeper, underlying meaning behind this was not good. The only question in your mind now was whether or not you wanted to be a part of the deeper meaning.

Whatever it was, you could tell the workers at the piercing parlor were into some kind of trouble. If their magic story was true, it was something that was completely over your head. You’d lived a normal life up until now, and you were certain that you wanted to continue having a normal life. Magic bloodline be damned, you were not about to get caught up in a battle that wasn’t yours.

At that moment, you decided to ignore Chan’s warning, and go home.

However, you weren’t entirely sure how to do that at this moment. Chan had asked, or nearly begged, that you stay put so he could explain things when he came back. However, he had left you there. With Hyunjin of all people. Now, you’d only known the redhead for a week, and only saw him in person one and a half times, but you had the feeling that he would not– could not– stop you if you decided to run. At least, not with violence. 

You eyed Hyunjin’s frame, taking note that he was more gifted in height than thickness– if you ran, he would catch up quickly because of his long legs, but if needed, you could take him.

You watched him sit up and rub his hands along his jeans anxiously.

You nodded to yourself. Yeah. You could definitely take him.

You began calculating the amount of footsteps from where you were to the staircase. If you walked quickly, it would take about 5 individual steps from where you were standing to the first stair. There were at least 10 stairs in the staircase, then maybe 10 more steps out the front door.  With a quick estimate, you realized two of your steps were probably equivalent to one of his. If you could get to the stairs without being noticed, you would have enough of a head start that you’d be just out of reach for him, and could probably make it home. 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that this could actually work. However, as you took your first scoot, Hyunjin let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Please. Don’t try to go anywhere. I can’t let you leave.”

A cold chill ran through your body. What was with the telepathy? How did they always seem to know something before it was said aloud?

You turned around with your arms crossed over your chest defiantly. “Why not?” 

You hoped your glare would shrivel Hyunjin into a pliant little wrinkle that you could convince to let you free, but upon meeting his eyes you realized that he was entirely unaffected. Besides the still-present air of surprise and confusion, he looked at you like nothing happened– the same way he looked when he met you. 

For some reason, this made you angrier. You’d just been attacked, sort of kidnapped, learned that you weren’t technically a regular human, and found out you’re soul bound to the angry blonde in the parlor. Yet he seemed to talk to you like it was just a normal Tuesday. You stared daggers into his eyes, hoping you could melt his brain into soup with your glare.

He patted the space next to him on the couch, breaking you from your trance. “I’ll explain, just, please come sit down.”

You thought it over for a moment. While Hyunjin seemed nice enough, fundamentally you were still being held hostage by a group of men. As curious as you were about the situation, you were angrier, and you didn’t want to give the impression that you were comfortable being mindless and obedient. For all you know, this could be some elaborate scheme.

So, instead of walking toward the couch, you turned around and made your way to the staircase and started walking down the stairs.

Hyunjin called after you, his tone sounding almost like a warning. You flipped him off and continued your descent, laughing to yourself about how easy this was.

Your laugh proved premature when you heard Hyunjin sigh again, and then within a second, his fingers closed around your wrist. 

            You gasped and tried to jerk your hand away, but his grip was strong, almost inhumanely so. You spun around and tugged your arm away from him again, using your other hand to attempt to pry his fingers off of you. Even though you knew you were using all of your strength, his grip would not budge. After a moment of pulling, you glared up at him and noticed something looked… different… in his eyes. They were dark, almost like his pupils had dilated so much that they swallowed every millimeter of the soft brown in his eyes. His gaze was unwavering, and though you wanted to say something rude, you noticed you felt… off.

Your entire body felt like it was slowing down. Every thought seemed to go one mile an hour through your head, and you could feel every muscle you used to blink. It felt like you were being dragged through molasses or wet cement.You were terrified, and you looked up at Hyunjin with what you hoped were pleading eyes.

He parted his lips and said your name sternly. Still stuck like a deer in headlights, all you could do was stare at him and hang on to his words.

“You cannot leave.” His voice was serious and deep. “I understand that you’re skeptical and frightened, but I can’t help with that until you sit down and let me explain.” 

You felt so pliant and relaxed that it made you dizzy. Swaying a bit, you gripped the arm holding you to keep yourself from falling over.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I’m not going to let you fall. But squeeze my arm if you understand what I just said.”

Upon your gentle squeeze, the redhead nodded and guided you back to the safety of the couch, still holding onto your wrist. He gently eased you into the cushions, watching to make sure you wouldn’t fall over. As his hand slid away from your wrist, rational thought came back to you, and the dizzy feeling began to clear like ember dwindling from a campfire. You felt a bit breathless and pressed your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your breathing.

Hyunjin looked sheepish as he stood near you.  “I’m sorry,” He sighed, sitting down in his spot next to you. “I didn’t want to use my powers like that, but I was scared you would leave.”

You stared at him blankly as he spoke. The brown was back in his eyes, shining like fresh coins in the summer sun. “Why shouldn’t I leave,” you said between breaths. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’m starting to feel like a hostage.”

Hyunjin sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as tho he was pleading for the strength to deal with you. “Can I explain now?”

“Please do.”

“The reason you can’t leave,” he started. He opened his mouth to say more, but you could see the words get stuck in his throat. His annoyed aura was quickly replaced with one of anxiety. He began to chew on his nails, staring at the floor as though the answer would rise from the floorboards. Finally, he let out a huff of air and shifted in his seat. “You can’t leave, because if you do, you’re going to die.”

Lead dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He couldn’t have just said that. Your mind was playing tricks on you. “I’m sorry…What?”

He shifted again and brought his hand back up to his mouth. You noticed his fingernails were down to the stubs, and he was now just gnawing on his skin nervously.

“You didn’t mishear me. If you leave, you’re going to die.”

Your eyes were blank as you nodded. “Okay. That’s what I thought you said. Are you going to elaborate or am I just going to have to trust you blindly.”

“No,” he mumbled. “I’ll explain. Just– give me a second.”

Watching him, you realized that this was really hard for him to talk about. He was nearly shaking at this point, his breath coming out ragged and labored. After a moment, he let out a deep breath and turned to you.

“When you’re soul tied to someone, it’s more than just an emotional connection. It’s a connection in every conceivable way: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Your lives will be intertwined forever, and you don’t have a choice about it. The bond is eternal.”

Your anger had now subsided, and you hung onto Hyunjin’s every word like it was the gospel.

“The thing is, you won’t know you’re soul tied to someone until you meet them.” He was staring ahead now, his eyes dull and almost lifeless. “And sometimes, you don’t figure out who it is until it’s too late.”

You shook your head. “I don’t understand, Hyunjin.”

He focused his eyes back on you, and you could see they were beginning to get red. His face was flushed, and he chewed on his bottom lip before continuing. “You can’t fall in love with anyone else. The magic of the bond won’t allow it. Even if you begin to think you are falling for someone else, you’ll get sick. So many people have lost their lives because they met their soul tie after they were already married or in a relationship. Not many people are fond on the idea of giving up their families for a total stranger.”

You nodded slowly. “So… I can’t leave because I’ll go live my life and possibly fall in love with someone and die?”

Hyunjin shook his head, and his expression was grim. “The magic of the bond thrives on physical connection, like being in close proximity. Once you know who your soul tie is, that’s when the power of the bond is activate, and the need to be physically close begins. When you’re with your soul tie, your powers get stronger, you get healthier– all the things like that. But if you’re not around your soul tie…”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you’re not around your soul tie, both of you will die. If something happens to you, your soul tie will feel it. And if you die, they die too.”

“So… by coming here and getting my piercing…”

He nodded. “You’ve sentenced yourself and Minho to death.”

Before you could even begin to process what you just learned, you heard a quiet voice coming from the staircase. Whoever it was seemed to be singing to themself under their breath. You stared at their shadow as they inched closer and closer to the top, your stomach twisting and turning with anxiety.

Jisung peered over the banister and caught sight of you and Hyunjin. “Oh!” His smile was bright. “It’s you again!”

You couldn’t find the strength to match his excitement. You waved weakly at him and went back to staring at the ground intently.

Noticing the somber atmosphere in the room, Jisung cautiously made his way over to one of the lounge chairs and paused. “I’m sorry… is this a bad time? It’s just that.. Chan told me to come up here when I was done with my last customer, so I thought….”

“You’re fine, Ji,” Hyunjin mumbled. He motioned for him to sit down. “There’s something you need to know anyway.”

You could see the anxiety begin to settle on Jisung’s face as he gently lowered himself into the chair. “What’s going on?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath before gesturing towards you and introducing you. “You remember her, right?”

Jisung nodded slowly. 

“Well. She’s Minho’s soul tie.”

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he glanced between you and Hyunjin as though he believed it was an elaborate prank, and one of you would crack. Taking in your already anxious and disheveled figure, he closed his mouth and proceeded to blink repeatedly.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my G… I–what?”

“It seems like I’m a Sirid,” you offered weakly.

Jisung glanced at Hyunjin, who offered him a very weak shrug in return. The grey haired boy attempted to regain his composure quickly.

“Oh wow. That’s… that’s, um…. So, which clan are you?”

“That we don’t know yet,” Hyunjin cut in He seemed grateful for the change of topic. “She never knew she was a Sirid, so she never used her powers.”

“Wait, so, how did you end up here? In the human realm?” Jisung tilted his head in confusion. “Making a portal takes–” He cut himself off, biting his tongue. “Well, it takes a lot of energy.”

You shrugged, completely clueless. “I’ve just… always been here I guess.”

Hyunjin paused for a second. “What year were you born?”

“I’m 21 so… 2002.”

Jisung scratched his chin. “Oh, well that’s way before everything happened with Ardor,” he mumbled.

You peered at him, confused. “What’s Ardor?”

Jisung’s eyes widened and his face flushed. “Ah– no one–i mean, nothing! It’s not important. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

You turned to Hyunjin for answers, but his eyes seemed glazed over with some unreadable emotion. It was almost like he was having a flashback of some kind. Once again, you could tell that whatever backstory came from this was not good.

Eventually, the red head sighed, and looked at you. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll tell you. Iphorus is… not like here. There’s a ruler appointed every 15 years, called the Templar. It’s like… a monarchy, but worse. Everyone is expected to obey and praise the Templar and anyone who steps out of line is considered unworthy, and can be banished or… killed.”

“Ardor was the Templar four years ago,” Jisung added. “He wasn’t bad, not at first, but then his wife met her soul tie and chose to be with them, not him. Things were.. Not great after that.”

“Things went to shit,” Hyunjin corrected. “He went absolutely crazy. He hired the best minds in the entire realm to come up with a magic stronger than the magic of the soul tie. He burned all of the text on soul ties and made a law that anyone who meets their soul tie while already in a relationship had to stay in that relationship and wither away slowly. If not, they’d be caught and publicly punished.”

“And by punished, I assume you mean…?”

“Yeah,” Jisung confirmed. “More death and stuff.”

“Then the war started,” Hyunjin breathed. “It was.. Nasty to say the least. The population dwindled by 20%.”

You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to beat the chill that just surrounded you. “That sounds horrible,” you mumbled. “How did you guys end up escaping?”

The two boys shared a look over your head before Hyunjin continued. “It was a hard decision,” he said gently. “But, ultimately, we knew didn’t want to be in that society anymore. So Minho rounded us up and.. We left through a portal. It’s been, what, 3 years now?”

Jisung nodded. “We can’t go back. Even if we wanted to.”

Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Why not? Can’t you just open another portal?”

Jisung paused, taking a breath before he continued. “No, we can’t. There’s no way to make a portal here– not unless you bring the materials from Iphorus. Even then it’s iffy because our magic is weaker here.”

“So.. you’re stuck here, essentially.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nodded. “But it’s not bad. It’s probably for the greater good of everyone that we stay here.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But.. what about your families? Don’t you miss them? Do they–”

Hyunjin gripped your hand quickly and shook his head, panic on his face. He had a finger over his lips, and told you with his eyes to stop speaking. You nodded at him, albeit very confused, before he looked away. You followed his gaze to see that he was staring at Jisung, who had that glazed over, flashback look in his eyes– the same one Hyunjin had earlier.

Jisung was trembling. He started digging his nails into his pants, scratching so frantically you thought he’s rip right through the fabric. You could hear him whispering under his breath, but his voice was so soft that you had no idea what he was saying. 

“Ji,” Hyunjin whispered. He reached over you and touched Jisung’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re here with me. We’re okay.”

Jisung put one of his hands over Hyunjins, repeating the comforting words under his breath. Though you were in the middle of things, literally, you felt so far away and helpless.All you could do was watch, and hope that Jisung would be alright.

After a second, you watched him squeeze Hyunjin’s hand and nod. “I’m okay,” he whispered. He looked up at you, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t… hearing about family is… not great.”

“I’m sorry–”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. You couldn’t have known.” 

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I have a… complicated family history. So hearing about it can make me a bit uncomfortable. But I’m okay now. I promise.” 

You nodded and let silence wash over the three of you as you stared at your lap. Iphorus sounded like an awful place, and though you were now technically a hostage of some kind, it sounded much better than being sent somewhere like that. It was a wonder how the boys seemed to get out mostly unscathed.

A million thoughts raced through your head at once. It was so overwhelming, all of it. You could feel the beginnings of an anxiety attach cresting it’s head over your conscious.

Hyunjin’s hand found it’s way to you, rubbing slow, calming circles on your arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Jisung added sheepishly. “We’re here now, we’re safe from all of that.”

Your voice began to quiver as you tried to speak. “So… going back to the whole Ardor thing, is that… is all of that why Minho made the earring? So that people could find their soul ties and avoid death?”

“Something like that,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I don’t really know– it’s not my story to tell.”

“His invention did a lot of good during Ardor’s reign.” Jisung piped up. “But… I don't really know his intention for making it. Unless it was–”

“Either way.” Hyunjin cut him off, shooting him a look that you couldn’t decipher. His hand was still rubbing circles on your arm, and that cloudy, pliant feeling as beginning to return to your head. As long as you weren’t panicking, you didn’t really care.

“Either way, that’s our history now. We’re trying to stay focused on what our future is gonna look like.”

“I guess it’ll be the nine of us from now on,” Jisung said. “I wonder who’s gonna be your roommate while we clean up the guest room.”

“Wait, nine? There’s more of you?”

Jisung blinked. “Oh, I guess you didn’t meet everyone else yet. Well, you know me, Hyunjin, Chan, and Minho of course.” He held up fingers with each name. “That leaves Changbin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin.”

Noticing your anxious gaze, he continued. “But they’re good guys! I promise, it’ll be okay.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, a banging sound came from downstairs. The three of you shot up out of your comfortable slouches, eyes glued to the staircase. You could hear feet pounding up the stairs and the pants of breath from two people. Your anxiety settled for a moment when you saw it was Minho and Chan, but when you noticed their intense demeanor, it quickly returned.

Chan raced over to the three of you, hustling you out of your seats with urgency. “Get up,” he ordered. “Now. We need to leave.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he breathed. “Just– please. We need to get out of here right now.”

You allowed yourself to get pulled off of the couch and nearly shoved into the corner of the room farthest from the staircase. Minho and Chan moved around the room in a way that nearly seemed choreographed, despite the air of seriousness looming over them. Chan shoved everyone’s belongings into a duffel bag which he tossed to Jisung. Minho, on the other hand, slipped on a black sweatshirt and beanie before standing by the top of the stairs.

Chan stepped in front of the three of you, pressing his hand against the wall until it seemed to disappear right before your eyes. A large black door replaced what was there before, and Hyunjin opened it to reveal a long, dark staircase.

“Get downstairs to the car,” Chan spoke. “Felix and Seungmin are already in there. Changbin is driving, do not leave without him. Understood?”

The two boys behind you nodded. As Hyunjin began making his way down the stairs,  Jisung slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and reached his hand out to you. “I know you still don’t trust us that much, but please, you have to keep holding my hand.”

As you stepped forward to grab Jisung’s hand, a feeling of dread washed over you. It felt like you would throw up any second. You could feel your mind begin to get rid of all rational thought and go right into panic mode.

No no no, your consciousness chanted. We can’t leave. Stop. Stop!

“Wait,” you cried. Your sudden outburst had both Chan and Jisung surprised, but you couldn’t calm your voice down even if you tried. “W-What about Chan and Minho? Are we just leaving  them here?”

“It’s for the best, they’re gonna be okay, but I need to get you out of here now.”

Jisung reached for you, but you stepped back, trembling like a wounded animal. For some reason you were terrified. Your entire body felt cold and your mouth felt like cotton.

You shook your head at him, and felt the words coming out of your mouth before you could process them. “No! I’m not… I’m not going anywhere!”

From the bottom of the staircase, Hyunjin called your name with urgency. “Please,” he shouted. “Come on, we need to go!”

“We’ll catch up, Jin,” Jisung called. He turned his attention back to you, his big doe eyes pleading with you. “I know you’re scared, but it’s an emergency and we need to go. I need to get you out of here, you’re not safe.”

You felt crazy. The dwindling embers of your rational brain begged you to go with Jisung, to run into the arms of safety and protection. But a louder, roaring fire spoke over it, and against all of your instincts you were desperate to stay.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Jisung grabbed your hand tightly, no longer waiting for you to make the first move, and he began to drag you towards the stairs. You dug your heels into the ground to stop him, but he just began to pull harder. He was adamant about leaving, and you were adamant about staying. You writhed in his grasp with such desperation and vigor, you felt as though your body would explode.

You couldn’t leave. It felt like your body would tear in half if you left the two of them there. It felt like you were being sucked into a whirlpool, water splashing around you and knocking the wind out of your chest. You couldn’t stand it. Though you knew Jisung was strong, you felt an unnatural strength take over you as you ripped your hand out of his and stumbled back into the room.

“No, we can’t… we can’t leave them here.” Your words came out breathless, as though you were having a panic attack. “I won’t go.”

A hand grasped your shoulder, and you whipped around to see Minho standing right behind you. He gripped your shoulder tightly– not tight enough that it would hurt, but firm enough that it would ground you. Your breath continued to rake its way out of your chest as you stared at him, eyes darting frantically around his face.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Breathe with me.”

You let you eyes close, and without effort, your breathing began to match his rhythm. It was almost scary how easy it was to follow him. With every deep, dramatic breath he took, your body was able to copy him without a single thought.

The breathing was beginning to help clear the thick smog that covered your brain, and though you knew you weren’t thinking completely rationally, you felt clear enough to slow down and listen to what he was saying.

You let your eyes open, and found that he was staring at you intently. The expression on his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You were used to his scowl and glare, but now he was looking at you with a type of gentleness you didn’t recognize. Goosebumps raced across your flesh as you waited for him to speak.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “Look. I’m going to be okay. Okay? You can go. They’re taking you somewhere safe, and I’ll come join you when I’m all done here.”

“But–”

He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Emotions overwhelmed you the more you stared into his eyes. It seemed like everything around you had faded into nothingness, and you and Minho were alone in an entirely white room. Your senses were filled with nothing but him– his cinnamon scent, the softness of his hands, the sound of his heartbeat. You were entirely engulfed in him, even your brain seemed to be chanting his name over and over like a mantra, but something in you wasn’t satisfied. You needed skin to skin contact. 

You lifted your hand and put it on his, and you felt your entire body come to life, almost like you’d been shocked with enough voltage to power a small town. Minho closed his eyes and grunted softly under his breath, and you knew he felt the sensation too.

He opened his eyes after a moment, forcing them into focus before he continued to stare at you. His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand, and you felt yourself begin to tremble. 

“You can go,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You found yourself whispering back to him. “Okay”

Jisung took the opportunity to slip his hand into yours again, and gently drag you away from Minho and into the staircase. The two of you held eye contact the entire time. It was unwavering, intense eye contact that made the line of sight feel sacred. You couldn’t pull your eyes away until Chan closed to staircase door.

Though you were no longer in that weird trance, your mind was still fuzzy and your senses were still full of nothing but Minho, so much so that you were barely aware of anything happening around you. You knew that Jisung was running, and obviously you had to be running too if you were still holding his hand, but it felt like you were floating above the ground, completely untouchable.

After a moment, you found yourself in the alley behind the parlor. The air was thick with the stench of garbage and rotten food, and the ground beneath your feet was sticky. You look up to see that there was a large SUV parked with the back door open. You let Jisung guide you toward it, before he stuck his head in and said God-knows-what to God-knows-who. Upon getting a response, he turned around and offered you his hand once again. The fog of your mind was beginning to clear, and you stepped towards him and took his hand, climbing into the third row of seats in the car.

You were met with many unfamiliar faces. There were two people in the row ahead of you, one in the driver’s seat, and another sitting next to you. You saw Hyunjin’s red hair cresting over the passenger’s seat, and your anxiety began to dissipate. At least there were two people you knew. After a quick count you realized that the unfamiliar faces were all four people you hadn’t met yet.

You turned back to Jisung, who was sliding into the row next to you. Once he was situated and the seat was back in place, you felt the car vibrate as the engine started, then it peeled off into the street at what felt like a dangerous speed. You’d almost forgotten the dire situation you were in after… whatever that was, happened with Minho. Thinking about him being back in the parlor without you, your anxiety began to come back, and you began picking at the fabric of your jeans.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” Jisung whispered. He gently reached over and laid your hand flat on your leg. “Are you anxious about the unfamiliar people? I told you they’re all nice guys.”

Deciding to keep your thoughts on Minho to yourself, you nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know them,” You whispered back. “And so much is happening right now. Do they even know who I am? Do they know about… you know?”

A sweet sounding giggle came from next to you. You glanced over your shoulder to see the most angelic looking man you’d ever seen in your life. His hair was bleached white and fluffed around his face, perfectly accentuating his symmetrical face. Freckles were dotted all across his rosy red cheeks, from over the bridge of his nose to around his eyes– which were nearly closed as his smile took up his  entire face.

“I know who you are,” he giggled. “You’re Minho’s soul tie. I’m Felix! Nice to meet you.”

You stared at him nearly in awe of his features. He looked like the picture of innocence and joy– almost out of place in the somber space within the car.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he continued. “I’m nice, so is Changbin and Innie.”

He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Seungmin’s kind of annoying, but it’ll grow on you, I promise.”

“I heard that.”

“Stop bickering back there,” the driver, who, if you remembered correctly, was named Changbin. He adjusted his rear view mirror and peered at everyone. Your eyes met, and he lifted his eyebrow curiously, almost like there was a question brewing in his brain. He dismissed it quickly by shaking his head.

Despite his extreme speed, he maneuvered through traffic so smoothly you questioned if the other cars were even real. He spoke up again, “You all buckle up, I’m speeding.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Felix sit up in his seat and put on his seat belt. When he noticed you staring, he gave you another smile before reaching up and buckling your seat belt too.

“Oh– uh… thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned. 

He peered at you curiously through his long lashes. He seemed to be searching your face, or trying to read your expression. You held eye contact and, for a moment, his cheerful expression dropped and was replaced with something untraceable. But just as quickly as it fell, it was back. You thought your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Felix said as he leaned back. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll treat you like family.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t even process what he said. Your brain was almost too full of thoughts, and it felt like it was going to explode. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Not because Changbin was speeding, though you were watching the speedometer intently, but because you were fleeing some unknown threat. Something that was bad enough that you need to leave immediately, and yet, Chan and Minho were staying back, preparing to face the threat head on.

What terrified you most, though, was the fact the the very fabric of your being felt like it was being torn apart the farther you were from the parlor, and as you stared at the setting sun, you gripped your knees and shuddered.

Please be okay, Minho you thought. Please please please.

[moonlightdancer26]

I'm an ex-marauders fan at this point, but haven't yet worked up the nerve to leave :( Wish me luck.

The marauders fandom promises acceptance and tolerance and lighthearted fun, but as soon as Severus comes up, the previously rosy atmosphere turns downright ugly. I've seen so many marauders fans posting or reblogging about how “your trauma is valid”, how “intentions don’t matter if you hurt someone”, and how “apologies don’t count if they’re coupled with an excuse”… who also go out of their way to justify the ‘prank’ because Sirius didn’t /mean/ to almost kill Snape, and how it’s really all Snape’s fault, and why can’t he get over it already since the marauders clearly became better people (even though Snape never received any kind of apology or any indication that they regretted their behavior)?

And these posts live side by side on their dash? Idk just needed to vent as i figure out where to go next in this fandom (or maybe another one altogether)...

WTF THIS ASK WAS FROM SEPTEMBER 😭😭 I’M SO SORRY I SWEAR I’VE BEEN SO EXCITED TO ANSWER YOUR ASK BUT I GOT TOO BUSY AND ALWAYS POSTPONED IT 😭

Anyway, I totally wish you luck anon. It’s hard switching fandoms and building up the courage to “move to the other side,” but I can tell you that it is 100% worth it when you realise how much the Snapedom differs from the Marauders fandom! As someone who’s been in the fandom for many years, seen what both sides are like, and has a bunch of friends (both online and irl) who don’t always share the same opinion, I can safely say that we are generally far more accepting of different opinions than the Marauders fandom. We tend to steer clear of them because they’re.. very persistent about their opinions and find it amusing to purposefully mistag their anti-Snape posts or to scroll through pro-Snape/anti-Marauders tags and attack the posters. But if you’re not like that and you can accept not always agreeing with friends or fandom members, then we’ll welcome you with open arms <3

And honestly I agree, I’ve seen Marauder stans make excellent and detailed analyses of their favourite characters and articulate their arguments greatly. But then all that reading comprehension shoots out the window when it comes to Snape, and you suddenly see them brush him off as nothing more than a “obsessed incel nazi” and call it a day. I’ve seen similar things happen with Snape fans as well, and I completely understand how you feel.

All I can say is: Just leave the Marauders fandom. Either announce it with a post and say that you no longer wish to be in the Marauders fandom or want to switch to the Snape fandom. Or if you want, you can create another blog altogether. The important thing is that you do it now and get it over with, because simply reading your ask and knowing how it’s negatively affecting you really upsets me. This ask was sent around 2 months ago, so I hope that by now you’ve done something about it, but if you haven’t, this is what I think about the whole situation. I wish you the best ❤️❤️ and if you, or anyone else who’s struggling with anything similar, want to DM me and talk about this, don’t hesitate to do so.

[chiptrillino]

Fkssbcjdn you mentioned Jet in the tags of a post reblogged from ME and I’m sorry but that means I am now going to talk abt him

Listen listen listen. Fire Nationals need to see the sun to keep themselves sane, doesn’t matter if they’re benders or non-benders. Water Tribesfolk need to be around water for similar reasons. Put an Air Nomad in a cave without air circulation and eventually they’re gonna go spare. Jet, Jet is Earth Kingdom. He needs the earth to stay sane, bender or not.

Why was he insane in the forest of Gaipan? Because he stayed in the trees. Away from the earth, which would have stabilised him. Close to the sky, the open air, his direct opposite element.

I’m not surprised he went crazy. His circumstances, combined with cutting himself off from his grounding (ahehe) element… yeah, no wonder.

“But what about in Ba Sing Se?” Well. Does anyone really think nearly a decade of deprivation from one’s core element wouldn’t leave a deep mark? Yes, he was a little saner on the ferry, a little more reasonable, because he had already been travelling on the earth for a few months - give or take - and it had helped him a little bit. But a few months of grounding does not fix a near-decade of cracking. The fact that he flipped back into obsession and negativity so fast when he connected Iroh’s suddenly hot tea (mere moments after loudly complaining how cold it was) to firebending is testament to that.

If Jet hadn’t made that connection, I’m pretty sure he could have healed a little more in the city instead of spiralling, and the second half of Book 2: Earth would have looked very different.

RANT OVER,, sorry the long ask ahaha 😅

chip gives thoughts?? (also I love your art <333)

oh gosh by all means yell about jet as much as you like! I am so glad when I get to see a positive post about him! and I adore this headcanon! like so much!!! especially how this basically can be summarised with… jet should chill and touch some grass!

okay so… emergency earth therapy for jet!!! (long shot want to make sure that jet has as much earth contact as possible!!! I think this is the best option to be buried on earth rather than the canon one…)

[ID: digital drawing form longshot (left) jet (centre) and Smelerbee (right) from avatar the last Airbender. jet is lying on the ground buried in earth unable to get out or move. his head peaks out of the earth hill he is glaring up towards Smelerbee, angry biting on a wooden stick. jet's head is resting on Longshot's leg. who is sitting behind him massaging Jet's temples. longshot is looking questioning and doubtful toward Smelerbee. Smelerbee sits on the earth hill above jets abdomen. she is leaning forward. pointing an accusatory finger at him. her expression is angry and serious. around them are many orange and yellow leaves. End ID.]

[kat-rose-griffith]

Hi. I love you blog ❤️

But I have an unpleasant question to ask. I hope it doesn’t bring your mood down and I hope that you may have some advice.

I love the Bridgerton community here and I genuinely enjoy the series analyses and the memes and love and praise for the actors. But you know how the situation with Luke has been recently.

I had to block #lukola and lukola content since the comments are mostly generated under this tag. I know that not everyone is using it romantically but I hoped that it will bring down the amount of posts that make me see red or genuinely depressed me. And I still have to block users just to remove their posts from my dash even though I thought that the filter may help.

I want to generate positivity instead of fighting but some posts are just THAT outrageous that I feel the need to dismantle them. By doing that I feel like I keep the hate train rolling simply by bringing the content of these posts into question in order to point out how harmful they are. I’ve also tried doing nothing and ignoring, but it feels like I’m letting the baseless cruelty slide and letting my principles and who I am at the core down.

I’m not sure what to do anymore and I’m thinking about stepping away from all social media for a while. But this thought also makes me sad because I used to love it here and I still (sometimes) do.

Do you have any advice? How do you deal with this? Maybe I have to filter something more? Do you see any way to contribute something good without fighting but also without hiding and running away from the tide?

If I’ve overstepped, I am sorry, and if you decide to remove the ask or not answer it I would absolutely understand. Thank you for listening in any case ❤️

Oh my gosh you’re so sweet. Thank you so much for enjoying my blog. That means so much to me and I truly appreciate it!

As far as advice goes I don’t know if I have a lot. I know it can get really hard to not let other peoples hatred and negativity bring you down. It can get really frustrating especially when the hate is as illogical and unwarranted as the harassment that the bridgerton actors, especially Luke, have been getting. It’s not guaranteed but hopefully the aggression will die down with some time as people move on with their lives. Just know that you’re not alone in these feelings.

I’m personally pretty susceptible to this kind of negativity too. That’s why tumblr is my only form of social media. The way that I try to work with those reactionary feelings is pretty similar to what you’re already doing. Whenever I see something that affects me like that I just block it and move on. Sometimes I do forget to do that and get wrapped up in scrolling through the hate or typing up a response, but then I have to stop myself and think if it’s really worth my time. I remind myself that these people want attention and they want the notes on their posts to feel validated in their opinions. It is hard but the best course of action is to try to just ignore them because they’re truly not worth the stress or energy.

With that I do want to say don’t be afraid to vent your feelings on your own blog. If you don’t feel comfortable putting it in the tag or associating it with your blog because you don’t want to deal with those people harassing you there that’s completely fine. You can always leave it untagged, type it up but leave it in your drafts, create a side blog just for that, or block them when they leave an upsetting comment. I’ve just found that it’s helpful to me to let out how I feel on here instead of holding it in and it’s especially helpful when I find people who actually get it and share my feelings. That’s actually one of my favorite things about tumblr.

Another thing that I try to do is just make my blog a nice place that I’m proud of, which is why you liking my blog has made me very happy. I try to share as many things that I like as I can. With the negativity in the tag surrounding Luke I’ve just been trying to counter it with any positive post that comes to my mind to drown out how negative and hateful some people have been. These people aren’t the majority, they’re just loud. That’s why whenever I’ve been making posts about this season I’ve been putting them in Luke and Nicola’s tags. If you have other social media accounts spamming the cast and their tags with love, complements, or just anything that’s not hateful to counter the hate spamming that they get is always a good idea too.

All that being said if it is all too much I always recommend just stepping away from social media for a second. It can be very overwhelming and hard to remember that it’s not real life, so if you ever feel like it’s effecting you too much just check in with yourself and walk away, for at least a bit.

I know that’s not great advice, but I’m going to post this in all of the tags that I use for bridgerton to see if anyone else has any advice that might be a bit more helpful. I’m very sorry that you’ve been experiencing this too and I hope that it gets better. Thank you so much for liking my blog, that really did make my day

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Ten

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E

Chapter warnings/tags: past emotional & physical abuse, past arranged/forced marriage, panic attacks, trauma, cults, PTSD, hurt/comfort, angst, negative self-image & body image

Chapter length: 5.2k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

notes: helloooo ❤️ i've had a horrible week. i'm posting this early to make me feel better. so...surprise monday chapter! :) please heed the warnings for this one, as there are discussions of past emotional & physical abuse <3 nothing graphic, but it's there. always feel free to DM me if you want more details before reading! ❤️ but otherwise, enjoy, and thank you for being here as always!

threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now; it's brighter now

Just when you thought you’d finished panicking. 

Just when you’d resigned yourself to your fate.

You’re standing in the refresher door, staring at Mando as he stares right back, the threatening note held in his gloved hand. The writing on it is dark and messy, strikes fear in you just looking at it.

You still haven’t answered Mando’s question. He’s just staring at you. Waiting. Expecting some kind of explanation. 

Kriff. A million thoughts rush through your mind at once, rendering you unable to form words, your mouth opening and closing as you try your hardest to say something, anything. 

He only knows a little about your past. He doesn’t know the whole story. Not only is it now very clear that you lied to him when you said you wanted to visit Correlia merely for the fun, and that you were planning on leaving without telling him, but it’s also clear that someone was going to use Mando and his child to get to you. 

How is he ever going to forgive you for that? 

“Answer me,” Mando demands. “What is this?” 

Your vision is going blurry. Your head is spinning. You look at the paper, back to Mando, to the kid who’s standing at his feet. Back to the paper. 

You were going to leave, and he knows it.

They’re being used as a weapon against you, and he knows it.

“I’m sorry,” is all that slips past your lips, just barely a breath, barely loud enough for even yourself to hear. 

He steps closer.

You step backwards on instinct, heart rate rising fast. You almost stumble on the sink behind you. 

He stops, keeping his distance. For a tiny moment his free hand twitches towards you, like maybe he wants to reach out, close the distance between you in at least some way, but he hesitates. “Cyar’ika,” he says, and you immediately shake your head at the name, not wanting him to ever call you something soft again because you don’t deserve it—“I’m not mad at you,” he assures, soft all of a sudden. “Just breathe. I’m not angry with you, I promise.” 

Unblinking, you stare at the black of his visor. He says he’s not mad, but you bet the expression on his face says otherwise. 

You’d be mad. If he lied to you like that. 

You are mad, at yourself. Furious. That you ever thought coming with him was a good idea for any of you. 

His foot moves forward to take a step. You move even further back, pushing yourself into the corner of the fresher, your hands splaying on the wall on either side of you. 

“Hey,” Mando says, so gentle, “hey, look at me. It’s just me.” 

You’re panting for air. Your head spins, vision sliding side to side. Finally you blink, and a tear falls; it’s the breaking of the dam. 

Water pours from your eyes and down your cheeks, and your legs start to shake, the pain in your shoulder like fire with how hard you’re bracing yourself against the wall. You stare at Mando, into his visor, knowing him, trusting him. 

I trust him. 

It’s Mando.

He’s not going to hurt me, even if he is angry. 

“I—” you stammer through the strain in your throat. 

“You don’t have to be scared,” his voice sounds broken. You’ve never heard it quite like this. It cracks, tense like there are tears in his throat. Your suspicions are almost confirmed when you hear him sniff. “Please, Cyar’ika,” he holds out his free hand. Then, realising you’re still staring at the piece of paper in his other, he drops it. Like it doesn’t matter. Like it’s insignificant. Then, pleading, “Talk to me.” 

A sob forces its way out of you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a minute, trying harder than you’ve ever had to to bring yourself back to reality. To ground yourself in where you are, remind yourself that you’re safe, that you know Mando, and he knows you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Because apparently it’s your favourite thing to say. 

“It’s alright,” he assures you in an instant. “You know it’s alright. You can stay in there as long as you want, but you don’t look very comfortable, so I can give you space, if that’s what you need,” he starts to step back, but somehow, from some instinct that even the panic attack can’t seem to squash, you reach out for him before he can move away. 

“No,” you beg him. “Please. Stay. Don’t—don’t go.” You’re leaving soon. You have to make the most of every minute with him. 

He nods. His hand is still outstretched to you, patient. 

You stare at it. 

“Talk to me,” he urges again, not even close to a demand. 

A few jittery breaths stab through your mouth and into your lungs. Something in him seems to weaken for a second, his body tilting closer to you, his shoulders tensing. You wonder if he wishes he could look right into your eyes. If he feels guilty that he can’t. 

He shouldn’t. You’ll take whatever he can give you. 

Which is why you reach out, your hand shaking so hard it seems more like muscle spasms, and place your palm against his. 

“I’ve got you,” he tells you, not moving to come closer, just giving you your space.

“C—Can we—” a few more shuddering breaths, “Can we sit down?” 

He nods. Gently, he pulls on your hand, and helps you step over the lip of the fresher doorway. As he walks with you over to a crate, he fishes Grogu’s silver ball out of one of his many hidden pockets, and leans down to hand it to him. “Hey, kid, you mind giving us a minute? Go play, we won’t be long, I promise.” 

The kid accepts the ball happily, and waddles over to the bed chamber, getting himself settled on Mando’s bed. The door closes behind him. 

You sit on the crate, and Mando sits beside you. You can’t even look at him. Your eyes stare straight ahead at the piece of paper sitting on the floor. The piece of paper that has ruined everything. 

Mando’s gloved hand reaches out, takes a gentle hold of one of yours, pulls it into his lap. “What happened?” He asks, smoothing his thumb over yours. 

You sniff. The tears have slowed, but now you just feel drained, every single ounce of strength you had left just gone. The strength you were going to have to use to leave. 

“I found it in my pocket when we got back,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. You can feel his gaze on you. 

“Do you know who wrote it?” 

“No idea. A ‘family friend’ could be any number of people.”

“Your family hurt you,” he says, something he already knows. “Is this the first time you’ve heard from them?” 

“Since I escaped, yes. I…knew there was a risk that someone out there could recognise me,” Gods, there’s that guilt in your stomach again, twisting worse than the knife wound in your shoulder. You look over at the door that the kid is behind. Because of you, he’s in danger. “I’m so sorry, Mando. I should never have left that planet. I put you in danger by coming with you; someone obviously knows who you are, knows that you’re valuable, that he’s valuable…they must have seen that I care about you, that they could use you—” you can’t. You actually can’t.

Mando can. “I don’t blame you for this,” he says. “Hey, I need you to hear me when I say that. Do you hear me? This is not your fault.” 

“But it is,” you whisper, and finally find the strength to look up at him, peering through his visor with tear-blurred eyes. “It is. I put you at risk.” 

He shakes his head. “I promised you my protection. I should’ve been more careful.” 

“It’s not like I made it easy. You didn’t even know who you were protecting me from.” 

For a second, he hesitates. “Who am I protecting you from?” 

Your eyes fall closed. You move your head away, hang it low towards your lap. “I told you my family hurt me,” you say. Where he’s pressed up next to you and holding your hand, you feel him nod. You can’t not tell him the truth now. He deserves to know. It’s not just your life that’s in danger anymore. “They have a…religion, of sorts. It’s a cult, really, a high-control group that makes them a lot of money, and therefore a lot of friends in bad places. Bounty hunters, for one. But not Guild members, just rogues. Crime syndicates, corrupt politicians…my family funds them, so that they gain power, influence, new members.” 

He’s quiet, listening intently. (He always listens.) 

“Escaping them would’ve been hard enough if I’d just been a regular follower. But because I was their daughter…their only daughter…” 

His hand in yours squeezes, and you feel him tense up, the muscles in his arms flexing beside you.

The next part feels like the hardest thing to confess. It was one of the worst things they did, but only one of. 

And, logically, you know it wasn’t your fault. You know that what they did to you was wrong, no questions, no ifs, no buts. But yet it fills you with such shame that it makes you want to hide from everyone forever. “I was betrothed to a man since the day I turned eighteen. He…was not a good man, and I didn’t love him. I fought against it for so long. And my family, they…” your voice chokes you, tears suddenly springing hot and painful in your throat. Your scars twinge on your skin. 

You can’t say it.

All you can say is, “They did everything they could to make sure no one else would ever want me.” 

You hear Mando’s breathing hitch. 

You can’t even look at him. 

“What did they do?” He asks, tentative, like he isn’t sure he wants to know. (You don’t blame him; he’s right, he doesn’t want to. No one would want to.)

Unable to stretch your dwindling strength far enough to be able to say it, you shake your head. “Sorry,” you whisper. “I can’t…”

“It’s alright,” he squeezes your hand. “I know this is hard.” Then, he lifts your joined hands, and presses them to the place his lips are beneath the helmet. You can almost feel his kiss, a ghost on your skin. “I’m sorry, Cyar’ika.” 

“No, I’m sorry…” 

“For what?” 

“For bringing my shit into your life. You didn’t—you didn’t know what you were taking on. The daughter of cult leaders who would do anything to get her back.” 

“Do they want you back so that you can marry that man?” 

“Sort of. That’s part of it. I was supposed to be their biggest success; the perfect example of the cult’s values and lifestyle. But when I escaped, I was seen as their biggest failure. They lost credibility. People started doubting it; if their daughter, of all people, will fight against all hell to escape, why would others want to join?” 

He nods. “Makes sense. Sounds like you did more than just yourself a favour by leaving. You saved other people from it, too.” 

You laugh mirthlessly. “Yeah, except now they’ve found me again, and I have to go back.” 

He pulls your hand away from his helmet, puts it back in his lap so he can turn to look right at you. “What?” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I…yeah, I…well, I have to go, don’t I? You read the note. I was going to leave, I thought…I thought you figured…” 

“I did,” he says, somehow with a look more intense than ever, like the helmet isn’t even there, “but now that I know, now that you don’t have to hide it, you’re not going.” 

“Mando…I have to.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“If I don’t, they’ll never stop following me. You know how much attention you draw when you go literally anywhere; as soon as the bastard who wrote that note tells my family who I’m with, there will be nowhere we can go without being recognised. They’ll put out bounties for all three of us.” 

He shrugs one shoulder, like it’s no big deal. “It’s nothing I’ve not had before,” he says. 

Incredulous, you scoff. “Mando! Did you not hear what you said to me this morning? You’ve only just started this new life for the kid. Free of running, of danger, of the Empire. You can’t go back to that; you can’t let him go through all of that again just for me!”

“Just for you?” He repeats, and you can hear the frown in his voice, “There is no just you. You’re not just anything.” 

Words that were ready to come out suddenly halt, stopping before they reach your tongue, crawling away back down into your lungs. 

He stares at you. “I won’t just let you go,” he says. Your heart lurches painfully, mixing with the warmth that he brings to your chest, creating a strange mix of peace and terror that you’re not sure what do do with. “I won’t.” 

“Mando…I can’t drag you back into a life of running. I can’t.”

“I promised you my protection. You told me there were people after you; I knew the risks.” 

“You didn’t know them like you do now,” you point out. Your heart is racing. You want so badly to let him do this for you, to give in, to hold him and ask him to never let you go, to never let them take you. But it’s not that simple. “These people will not stop. They only didn’t come for me before before because I picked a planet in the middle of nowhere, and I stayed there. I didn’t move. But now I’ve come out into the light, and I’m with the most distinctive man and child in the Galaxy.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Gods, no, don’t apologise,” you almost laugh again, out of sheer disbelief that he is the one saying sorry, “I put you in danger. I brought people who will chase you. You fought so hard to find freedom, Mando.” 

“So did you,” he counters. “I won’t let you give up your freedom for us. It would break the kid’s heart, Cyar’ika. It would…it would break my heart,” he confesses, quietly, the sincerity in his voice so heavy that for a second it almost sounds like there’s no modulator between you. “If you left.”

Tears well on the edges of your eyes, sting in your nose. “Mando…” 

He surprises you, then, by leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours. You wonder if his eyes are closed or open, drinking in your closeness or looking right at you. “Cyar’ika,” he says, whispers. Then, bringing up his spare hand, he places it so gently on your chin, and confusion breaks its way through the chaos when he says, “Din Djarin.” 

“I—what?” 

“My name,” he says, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone. “My name is Din Djarin.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Your—your name,” you stammer, pulling back just a little to look into his visor. Something sparks in your heart. You can’t name it. It’s even bigger, even brighter than the warmth you’ve grown so used to. “Din?” 

He softens. Melts. Leans in, gently placing his palm against your cheek, your forehead brushing against the beskar of his. “Say it again,” he requests quietly. 

“Din,” you say, because you’d do anything he asks, you always would have— “Din.” 

A huff of laughter comes through his helmet. It sounds disbelieving, joyful even in the midst of the heartache. 

“Why did you tell me that?” 

“Because I need you to know,” he says, “that you are a part of my life now. A part of ours, me and the kid. And we are not just going to let you go because some shabuir threatened us.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, hitching up into a little sob that you try to resist. Reaching up your hand, you place it on the sharp line of the helmet’s cheek, smoothing your thumb over the tail of the visor’s shape. “I can’t let them hurt you, or chase you,” you say. 

He shakes his head. “And I can’t let them take you. You really think I’d let you go back to a life like that?” 

You tilt your head, kiss the palm of his glove. “I mean…I was kind of going to leave without you knowing…” 

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t come after you?” 

Heavily, you swallow. Gaze so deeply into his visor that you hope he can see inside your soul. You’d let him. You want him to. Right now, despite everything, you want him to. “Din…” you say. 

He sighs softly, like the sound of his name in your voice is music to his ears. “I’ve got you,” he says. “You don’t have to do things alone anymore.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…” 

“I’m not mad at you,” he assures you softly, “I’m just asking you to talk to me. If something like this ever happens again, Cyar’ika, please come to me. You know I’ll keep you safe—both of you. Whatever it takes.” 

You can’t quite get over the fact that he’s willing to sacrifice everything he’s fought so hard for for you. You’re just a passenger, a hitchhiker. Up until now, a tiny part of you had still thought that he was only taking you travelling because he felt he owed you after you helped him. 

“I can’t ask that of you,” you whisper, still feeling the need to protest. 

“You’re not asking,” he says. “But I’m asking something of you right now.” 

“Anything.” 

“Close your eyes,” he requests, gently bringing up both of his hands, laying his thumbs so softly on your eyelids. Your stomach leaps with anticipation when you do as he asks, closing your eyes and hearing the gentle hiss of his helmet releasing from his head. You expect him to tilt it up again, to guide your head down to the strange angle he’d managed to find for you to kiss him before. 

But then, you hear the soft thud of the helmet on the hull floor.

His hands are back on your face in a second, though they don’t move you to that angle, they just hold you, his fingertips gently tracing down the curve of your jaw. 

You gasp, hold your hands up in the space between you. “Can I?” 

“Please.” 

Carefully, you find his face, placing your palms on each cheek. And, shit. Fuck.

His face is right there in front of you. His whole face. 

You can feel the entirety of his facial hair, the moustache above his lip, the thicker bits over the sides of his jaw. Knowing he’s looking at you is excruciating and the hottest thing you’ve ever known. You have to strain to keep your eyes closed, force yourself not to open them, knowing that he’s just right there and all it would take to see his face is to open them once, to slip up just once—

But you don’t. You won’t. 

Instead, you let your hands do the seeing for you. 

They find his hairline. It goes over his forehead, a full head of hair beyond it, short and wavy. Wavy. Probably curly, if he grew it out. A gasp escapes your lips as you gently slide your fingertips over his head and through his locks, all the way down to the back of his neck.

He sighs. You feel it against your lips, warm and sweet. “Cyar’ika…” 

“Kiss me,” you request, using your hands now on his jaw to bring his face right up to yours, so close that his nose presses against the side of yours—“please.”

He does. 

And it’s not like the first time. 

He’s not hesitant, not testing the waters. 

He dives in. Breathing in a heavy breath as his lips crash against yours, he holds your jaw on either side, tilting your chin right up into him, your lips slotting together all hot and wet and beautiful. He’s still got his gloves on, but his skin is so hot that you can feel it, even though he’s moving his hands all over your cheeks, through your hair, over your neck. 

You do the same to him. Feeling him, your mind coming up with a blurry mental image of his face, mapping his features out like a picture book. Your thumb runs over the hair on his chin, nails digging in a little. When he moans softly against you, you can’t help the moan that escapes your own throat, and you run your nails over his scalp from front to back. 

One of his hands moves away from your face, and disappointment is about to hit you before you realise he’s moving it to hold you, pressing it against the spot between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide over your jacket. His cowl bunches nicely into your fist and you use it to pull him closer even though the laws of physics don’t allow.

His lips are so hot, slick as they move against your own, catching your lip between both of his over and over again. It’s not as messy as you’d expected, to kiss him so fast, so urgently. He sucks at your mouth, pushing and pulling, going with your movements but also taking you along with his. 

Your hand remains on his cowl, comfortable with how it holds him there, and the other makes a fist in his hair, pulling lightly because you don’t know when you’ll get to do this again; when he’s going to take his helmet off for you like this. If. 

So you kiss him like it’s the last time. Because of that, the unknown of when it will happen next; and because you thought you’d never get to do this again.

He hums into your mouth, a pleasured, “Mm…” and it sends a shock of heat between your thighs. 

He’s holding you with both hands now, one still on the top of your back, the other sliding around your waist. He grabs your jacket in his fist. You hear the squeak of leather against leather. 

It seems too soon when he breaks away for air. He holds you close, pushing his nose into your cheek, panting against your mouth. You don’t pull back, because if you do, your eyes might open on instinct. 

Slow, he moves from your waist to your cheek, then ghosts his gloved finger over your lips. “Fuck,” he says, and there’s that heat again. Right between your legs. 

“Din,” you whisper, because now that you know his name, you don’t think you can ever stop saying it. “That was…fuck.” 

“Mm,” he nods. “Yeah. I—Mesh’la…” 

You lift your hand from his cowl, instead stroking at the side of his face. 

“It didn’t work,” he says. 

Um. “What?” Worry strikes your stomach. Did he not like that? Did you do something wrong? Have you touched his face too much—

“Whatever they did to you, to make it so that no one would want you,” he explains further, his voice low and husky right against your mouth, “it didn’t work.” 

The worry is replaced with something else. Not a sharp stab of fear, but something worse, something simmering in the depths of your belly. “Din…you don’t know what they…” 

He shakes his head. His hand is decisive on the back of your neck, anchoring you to him. “It didn’t work,” he declares. “I want you. You have no idea how badly I want you.”

You don’t have it in you to argue. You can’t. Not after that kiss. Not after everything. 

Instead, your mind goes to other problems currently at hand, the more pressing ones. Din is still pressed against you, holding you like you’re something precious, like he never wants to let you go. The feeling is so very mutual. 

His thumb taps at the corner of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, then, “can you keep them closed while I…?”

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, nuzzling your nose against his. You feel his moustache brushing against your lips. You’d let him kiss you until it marked you for hours afterwards. Until the hairs hurt your skin. “What you’ve given me is more than enough.” 

He kisses you again. Just once. “You, too,” he whispers. Then pulls away, and you wait until you hear the hiss of his helmet before you open your eyes. Despite not being able to see his face, the sight of him warms you from the inside out.

You smile, reaching out to put your hand on the beskar over his cheek. Then, your eyes slide over to the piece of paper that’s still sitting there on the floor. “What do we do?” You ask, hopelessness creeping back into your stomach. 

“We have twenty four hours until that hut’uun tells your family,” he says. “We come up with a plan.”

“Hoo-toon?” You repeat the Mando’a word with a curious frown. 

“It’s the worst possible insult to a Mandalorian. A coward.” 

A smile twitches at your lips. You run your hand down his shoulder, reaching for his hand. “What’s the best possible compliment?” 

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s what I should call you.” 

He sits up a little straighter, his hand squeezing yours. “Cyar’ika…” 

“I mean it,” you insist. 

“I know you do.” 

For some reason, that hits. “Good,” you whisper, then lean up to press a long kiss to his forehead. Then, “Let’s plan.” 

-

Your suggestion to use you as bait to lure the ‘hut’uun’ out of hiding is immediately shut down by Mando.

And, honestly, yeah. It does seem like asking for trouble.

“So we use all of us as bait,” you suggest instead. 

“How?” Mando is sitting in the pilot’s chair, facing you where you sit in the co pilot’s, with Grogu in your lap. 

“We run. Or, pretend to run. Let them follow.” 

“You said it’ll be your family who follow,” he points out. “Not just the guy who’s blackmailing you.” 

You chew your lip. “Yeah. They’re no army, but they have every way of getting an army to chase us.” 

“It’s nothing new…” 

“We can’t, Mando.” It’s still taking some getting used to, knowing his name. In fact, you haven’t really had time to process the fact that he told you his name. That’s such a huge part of him, something he keeps so secret, so close to his chest. You’re so honoured by it that you don’t have the emotional space to deal with it right now. The weight of it. The crushing need to tell him Thank you for the rest of your life.

“I’ve outrun armies before. Maybe we go lay low somewhere before the day’s up. Find a way to clear our trail before they even start to follow us.”

“Won’t people recognise you wherever you go?” 

“Not if we go somewhere in the Outer Rim.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly the kind of place that will recognise you? It’s full of the kinds of people who my family will hire.” 

“People might know me there,” he says, “but that’s the point. They know who I am, and what I do. They know I’m dangerous.” 

“They know that if they fuck around, they’ll find out?” You suggest, smirking. 

He chuckles. He’s sitting in that way again, with his legs spread, his hands on his thighs. You’re staring to wonder if he does it on purpose. Just to get to you. “Exactly. I can think of some places we can lay low. Places that don’t ask questions. I can call on some contacts.”

“What kind of contacts?” 

“I’ve got all sorts of them,” he tilts his helmet a bit, like he’s smirking, showing off. 

“Oh, you do, huh?” You raise a teasing eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, his voice dipping lower. 

You frown. “Like what?” 

“Not in front of the kid,” he says. 

You genuinely don’t know how you’re looking at him. Well, actually, you can guess. When he sits like that, and puts that challenge in his tone, that quirk of his helmet… “Din,” you say, feigning confidence, “don’t be gross. Not in front of the kid.” You tease him.

He hitches up one of his legs just a little. “He knows what you’re saying, you know.” 

“With my eyes?” 

“Your words.” 

You look down at the kid, who’s thoroughly disinterested in what you’re saying, too busy playing with his beloved ball. “I’m sure he does. He’s clever.” 

“Too clever,” Din grumbles. 

“So, are we doing this?” You ask, propping up your foot on the edge of Din’s seat, gently pushing one of his legs out the way. 

He puts his gloved hand on the top of your boot. “Yes. If you’re on board.” 

“I am. I trust you, whatever you think is best. Outer Rim, then?” 

“Yes. But it’s going to take three day rotations to get where we’re going.” 

“At light speed?” 

“It’s the only way we can avoid being tracked. The hut’uun knows my ship; it’s one of a kind. Once the twenty-four hours are up, if he’s telling the truth, he’ll tell your family, and we’ll be hunted. Our best bet is to lay low for a while, figure out a long-term plan.” 

You let out a long, slightly shaky breath. You look away from him, feeling familiar guilt twisting at you. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, soft.

“You’re bossy today,” you grumble, not looking at him. “And don’t do what? I’m just sitting here.”

“No,” he says, sitting forward, leaning in closer to you. “You’re feeling guilty. I know that look.” 

“It’s me they’re after,” you say quietly, absently looking at the kid, but not really looking at him. Your mind is elsewhere. “Are you sure you don’t just want to use me as bait, and take the guy out?” 

He pulls on your foot, suddenly, jerking it further onto the chair so that you look up at him on instinct. “No,” he says, final. “Absolutely not. I’d rather run for the rest of my life.” 

You swallow, heavy, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good,” he lets go of your foot, but gently pushes it from his seat before he turns back around to the control panel, looking out at the vast space in front and around you. “We’ve got enough on board to get us through a few days. But when we get where we’re going, we’ll need to get supplies.” 

“Where are we going?” 

He flicks a few switches, punches in coordinates. Before you know it, the stars are turning to blurs in the inky blackness, then zooming into one big, blue, flashing kaleidoscope. Hyperspace. Mando sits back in his chair, then looks at the kid. “Tatooine,” he answers.

Oh, great. 

requests are open ❤️

notes: *joel miller voice* yeah, it was cool. everyone loved tatooine. i hopeeee this made up for the cliffhanger last week! and i'm also very excited for the next chapter so yayyy :)

as always, thank you for reading, and if you can leave your thoughts, please do! ❤️

love you xo

Mando'a translation:

Shabuir - much hated person or thing.

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