#and the bar for what i think of as bad writing is unfortunately low

[nordic-language-love]

i got a kobo libra for my birthday and my brother sent me a gift voucher for the online store but now i have to decide what i want and it’s Stressful

[cr-komi]

"I Need to Know"

Summary: After a daunting sex experience, you're left with the idea that you're bad at sex, but is that really true? Or should you go to someone else to see if they can be honest with you about the truth?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon X Reader (F)

Genre: Smut, fluff (just a little bit at the very end)

Word Count: 6,200+

Warnings: Swearing, angst, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!), multiple orgasms

Author's Note: I'm back! It was super fun writing the last story so I'm doing it again :) I hope you all enjoy this one just as much as the last. Again, it's not really proofread per say? More like I just skimmed through it to quickly check for mistakes. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

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"Wait, what did he tell you?"

Your best friend, Sana, had been resting lazily on the arm of the couch, quietly listening as you recollected the events of last night: going to a bar, meeting a guy who, unfortunately, was a total walking red flag, although due to your state of intoxication you were too blind to notice, getting into a car with him and going back to his apartment, and totally fucking up by having sex with him.

To your dismay, your memory had been completely clear, up until the moment you slept with him.

"He told me I was a bad lay." You mumbled, head hanging low.

"Jesus, what an asshole," she retorted, maneuvering herself so that she was facing you, insead of the wall she was previously eye-to-eye with, "why do you think he would say something like that?"

"Well, I know why, actually." You responded, eyes still averted towards the plush rug beneath you, "because the morning after we...you know...did it, he asked me if I wanted to be in a relationship, and I said...well, I said no."

Your words echoed in the stillness of the living room, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue. The shame of your confession still lingered heavily in the air, a painful reminder of your poor judgment.

"Okay," Sana said quietly, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. "So he asked you if you wanted to like...date, and you said you rejected him. Then what happened?"

"Well...he got all mad at me. Saying shit like, 'Oh, I only got with you as a joke,' and 'You're nothing more than just a cocksleeve,' then he told me I sucked at sex and kicked me out."

"Don't worry, Y/N, you probably just bruised his ego and that's how he responded. It's nothing to be upset or embarrassed over."

You looked up at her, your eyes welling with tears. "I know, but I can't get those words out of my head. I mean, does he really think I'm bad at sex? Granted, it's not like I'm an expert or anything like that but--"

Sana reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Sweetie, you're not bad at sex, trust me. He was just...mad but you'll both get over it. Don't let one asshole ruin your self-image."

"I'm trying, but it's kind of hard, you know? Everytime I try to have sex with a guy it lasts two minutes so they can use me to get themselves off, and then they move on to someone else. I just wish I could find someone who would be honest with me about this whole situation, someone who--"

Suddenly, a light switch went off in your head. You did know someone who could truly tell you if you were bad at sex or not. It may not be ideal, but you can only hope he'll say yes.

"I just...I just thought of something." You whispered, a hint of excitement and nervousness in your voice, "I know someone who can help me out. Someone who could... validate my skills in bed."

"Who is it?" Sana asked, equally intrigued and cautious.

You shot up from your seat on the floor, your phone falling out of your lap in the process, causing a loud crash to erupt the silence that had settled between the two of you.

Sana flinched at the sound, but continued her feat to get an answer out of you, "Well? Who the fuck do you know that can help you out?"

"Uh, it's uh...it's a little weird," you stammered, gently grabbing your phone from off the floor and checking for damages, although none were visible. You didn't want to go through with this, but deep down you knew it was the only option you had.

"Come on, Y/N, spill the beans!" Sana prodded, her voice filled with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, your face flushed with embarrassment, "I...I can't I promise I will tell you everything later but can you...will you..."

Sana laughed, "You want me to leave?"

"No, it's not that I want you to, it's just--"

Sana slowly got up from her spot on the couch, “Say no more, Y/N, I know you'll give me all of the juicy details later."

Sana smiled and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and gathered your courage, "Okay. I want you to know that this is... unconventional, but I know it's the only way I can get an honest answer."

"Don't worry, girl, I trust you. Have fun though, and be safe!"

You laughed quietly, "I will."

With a smile on her face, she blew you a kiss before picking up her shoes and gracefully departing. As she closed the door gently, you could hear a soft 'click' resonating in the air.

With a resounding sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, calming your shaking nerves by reminding yourself that you'll get through this. You can't change what happened, but you can take control of what happens next.

With a hint of uncertainty, you muttered to yourself, "Alright, here we go." 

You started scrolling through your contacts, nodding as your fingers finally landed on the desired number. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly pressed the dial button, initiating the call.

After a few rings, he finally picked up.

"Hey, Y/N, I haven't heard from you in a while." His voice was raspy, almost tired in a way, and you wanted nothing more than to simply hang up the phone and live your life with the fact that you're probably bad at sex, but you pushed through.

"Yeah, I know. How are you?" You tried as hard as you could to seem as calm as possible, willing yourself to steady your nervous breathing.

He laughed into the phone, "I'm good, tired, I guess, but that's how things usually are."

You forced a laugh, "Yeah, you're right! Th-that is how things go, that's e-exactly how I'm feeling right now. Life after college isn't easy but I-I'm getting through it and I--" You winced, realizing that you had been prattling on for the past minute about things he probably doesn't care about, "S-sorry, I'm rambling."

You could hear him smile through the phone, "That's okay." He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something before continuing, "So, what's up? Did you need something? Or did you just want to check in?"

"Oh, no! I definitely have something to ask you. It's just...kind of hard to say over the phone, can you come over?"

It was dead silent over the line, and you just wanted to crumble into a million pieces. You were so embarrassed. Why did you think this would work? Why did you even think he would say yes to--

"Sure. I'll be over in an hour."

Suddenly, the line went dead, and your mind went numb. Was this really happening? Would he really say yes to this like you hoped he would?

Probably not, but a girl can dream.

Your heart began racing as you realized how close you came to humiliating yourself with your idea. But now, you had a chance to prove yourself and get some real answers.

"I guess I need to get ready." You mumbled, checking the time before scrambling to the shower, ready to shave off every hair on your entire body.

---

The steam enveloped you, a warm cocoon of mist that promised transformation. You stood beneath the cascading water, letting it wash away the remnants of the moments spent waiting for when you could finally see him.

Your fingers combed through your hair, lathering the strands with jasmine-scented shampoo; the fragrance was your favorite, lingering on you like a whispered secret.

"Focus," you murmured to yourself, rinsing the suds from your hair, watching them swirl into the drain. "It's just hanging out, not a life-changing event." But your heart’s fluttering betrayed your casual words.

You reached for the razor, gliding it along your skin with practiced precision, erasing the stubble in smooth strokes. Each movement was methodical, an effort to distract your mind from wandering towards him — his smile, his intellect, his unexpected kindnesses.

"Stop it," you chided yourself, but your lips curved upwards despite the reprimand. "You're just going to jinx it."

After turning off the water, you stepped out onto the plush bath mat, reaching for the towel in an attempt to begin and patting your skin dry. The mirror was fogged over, a ghostly canvas before you. With a sweep of your hand across its surface, your reflection peered back, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability etched onto your features.

"Okay, Y/N, you can do this. Moisturize, makeup, and then--" Suddenly, a loud bang at the door caused you to jump out of your skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and for a moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was simply your imagination playing tricks on you. But the sound echoed in your ears, undeniable and frightening.

"Who could that be?" You thought, pulse quickening. Fear gripped your chest as you flung the towel around your body, clutching it tightly to your still-damp skin.

"Coming!" You called out, voice wavering slightly. You hurried to the door, your bare feet slapping against the cold tiles, leaving wet footprints in your wake. Every step fueled by a sense of urgency, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As you reached the door, you swung it open, revealing the last person you expected to be standing there, despite your phone call from earlier.

Namjoon.

He blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting you to answer the door in such a state.

"Namjoon... What are you doing here? You're early," you stammered, taken aback by his unexpected arrival.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at you. "I wanted to come earlier. I just... I don't know, I felt like I needed to see you sooner."

His gaze lingered on you, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of droplets of water cascading down your body, tracing rivulets over your collarbones and along your arms. It was clear that he hadn't anticipated this turn of events, and his obvious distraction only added to the electric charge in the air between the two of you.

"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel exposed under his intense gaze, even with the towel wrapped securely around you.

"Uh, yeah," he said again, finally dragging his eyes back up to yours. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you or anything."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at him, trying to discern his true intentions for coming early. Was it simply impatience that had driven him to your doorstep, or was there something deeper at play?

"Can you give me a moment to get dressed?" you asked softly, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Then we can talk."

"Of course," Namjoon replied, stepping back from the doorway. "Take your time."

"No, no," you continued, slightly stuttering, you can come in, I just need a minute. You can make yourself comfortable on the couch or something if you'd like."

Namjoon nodded, noticing the tremble in your voice. He stepped inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he crossed the room and sat down on the couch. You closed the door behind him and retreated to your bedroom, quickly pulling on a Brandy Melville tank-top and shorts set.

You didn't put on a bra or underwear underneath...just in case.

You emerged a few minutes later, your hair still damp and looking slightly disheveled. Namjoon was still sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed but alert.

"So," he began as you took a seat across from him. "What did you want to ask me?"

Oh, fuck. Here goes nothing.

"Well...I-I was out the other night," you began, voice trembling with nerves, "and, well, me and this guy, well we...I mean he...I mean we met a-at the bar."

Namjoon nodded, listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you.

"So, we went back to his apartment and...well...we, you know, did it."

Namjoon chuckled, feigning innocence, "I think you may have to spell it out for me, Y/N."

"We had sex." You deadpanned, hands shaking slightly, "a-and when I woke up in the morning, I'll spare you the details, but...he told me...h-he told me I-I was a bad...a bad lay."

You could see the disgust and hurt flash across Namjoon's face at the mention of this guy's insensitivity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at you intently.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to hear something like that, especially not you."

"Well...thank you but, I didn't just ask you here for your sympathy."

Namjoon's eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Oh? Well then why did you?"

"Because I..."

Just do it Y/N, it's now or never.

"Because you...?" He continued, trying to make you finish your sentence.

"Because I want your opinion."

You averted your gaze towards the ground, too nervous to gauge his reaction.

"My...opinion?" He echoed, clearly confused.

"I want to know if I'm really bad at sex or not. So...I asked you over because I know you'd be honest with me."

"Y/N, what are you asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to fuck me...?"

You mumbled the last part, almost embarrassed to have spoken it aloud. Namjoon stared at you for a moment, shocked, before finally speaking, "Is this a joke?"

You hesitated, not sure if this was the right move, but you knew you had to be honest with yourself. With a deep breath, you looked up at Namjoon, meeting his eyes with determination.

"No, it's not a joke," you said firmly. "I want to know, from someone I trust, if I'm really bad at sex or not."

"I-I don't know, Y/N. I mean, seriously? We haven't seen each other in over a year and now you're suddenly asking me to fuck you?" He rose from his place on the couch suddenly pacing back and forth in front of you.

"I know it's sudden but...please if you'd just listen--"

"Y/N, stop. This wouldn't work out. Ever. I'm your brother's best friend."

"But Namjoon, is that--"

"I-I have to go," He interrupted, making a beeline towards the door in an attempt to escape the situation, but you couldn't just let him walk away like this.

Frustrated, you rushed towards him, grabbing him as quickly as possible before he could leave.

He paused, refusing to look at you and instead averting his gaze to the hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Please, Namjoon, just hear me out," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper. "I know this is sudden, but I need some closure. I need to know if--"

In an unexpected turn of events, you found yourself taken aback as Namjoon suddenly gripped your shoulders, forcefully slamming you against the door behind you.

The intensity of his tightening grip on your shoulders sent an electric jolt through your body, and you felt your heart rate quicken as you looked up into his eyes. They were filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"You have to understand something, Y/N," He whispered, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his hot breath fanning against your cheeks, "There's nothing in this world that I want more than to just fuck you senseless, right here, right now, but I need to know how serious you are."

You looked into his eyes, two twin pools of darkness that seemed to be clouded over with lust, "S-serious?" You stammered, "I-I am serious, Namjoon."

Namjoon's eyes pierced into yours, leaving no room for escape from this bold new territory, "Are you sure that this is what you want? You're not afraid of any sort of consequence that might follow?"

"No," you responded, steadying your voice in an attempt to sound confident, "I'm not afraid, Namjoon, I want this. Please."

He looked down for a moment, and you could tell he was battling his inner conscience, deciding on whether he should really fuck his best friend's sister or not.

He released his grip on your shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly still conflicted.

You could see the desperation and need in his eyes, trying to muster up the courage to do the very thing he knew he shouldn't be doing.

I mean, was this really the right thing to do? What if in the end--

"Fuck it."

He closed the distance between you two, his lips crushing down onto yours in a passionate and hungry kiss. He was taking control of the situation, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Your hands shot up to his face, your fingers entwining with his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands began to grip your waist, pulling you even closer to his body as he ground his hips into yours.

Your body trembled with anticipation as Namjoon began to trail kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You felt his breath on the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine.

As his mouth returned to your lips, you could taste the remnants of his hunger and desire. The tension between you seemed to melt away, as you felt your body respond to his every touch. The wetness between your legs grew with every moment that passed, as you pulled him closer to you.

"Namjoon," you breathed out, your voice a whisper that seemed to hang in the air between you. His hands embraced your waist, pulling you even closer, his body flush against your own. You felt his erection against your thigh, a powerful reminder of how much he wanted you right now.

You moaned softly, arching your back in response to the sensation, and Namjoon responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into your mouth to tangle with yours. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer to him.

Slowly, he began to guide you towards your bedroom, stumbling through the hallway as you went, your legs feeling weak from the desire that was pooling in your lower half. You hit the bed with a soft thud, Namjoon quickly following you down. He hovered over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you knew you could easily satisfy.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready, and you knew it.

He wasted no time in removing your top, exposing your pert breasts to his gaze. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his fingers brushing over your nipple, causing it to harden even more.

You moaned loudly, writhing in pleasure as Namjoon began to suck on your right nipple, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His left hand slowly trailed up your stomach, over your chest, and cupped your other breast, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his fingers. He kissed and nipped at the tender flesh, causing you to gasp.

You felt a sudden rush of heat spread throughout your body as he swirled his tongue around the tip, you've never felt anything like this before—his touch is electric, his kisses like tiny explosions on your skin.

You bit your lower lip, trying to contain the moans threatening to escape. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only serves to fuel your desire.

"Namjoon," you breathe, voice hoarse, "Please."

He smirked against your skin, "Tell me what you want, baby."

“Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

He pulled away from your nipple, trailing kisses down your stomach while his fingers traced down your side, up your thigh, until he reached the waistband of your pants.

“Take them off, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a raspy plea.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached down and slid off your shorts, revealing your pussy to him. He groaned, clearly impressed as he took it all in.

“No underwear, huh? I guess you knew this would happen.”

You nodded, “Uh huh– oh, fuck!”

He leaned down and licked your outer lips, causing you to gasp and arch your back in pleasure. You moaned in delight as you felt Namjoon's warm, wet mouth close around your clit, his tongue dancing over your sensitive nub.

Your hips bucked up off the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact as he began to lap at you, sucking softly. The sensation is exquisite, the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive folds sending shivers down your spine.

You gasp as he deepens the pleasure tenfold, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, your head thrown back with a soft whimper.

"Fuck," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, "that feels so good."

You can feel his hot breath on your pussy, his fingers teasing your entrance as he continues to work your clit with his mouth.

You writhe underneath him, moaning loudly as his tongue flicks over and around your clit, driving you wild. Each time he licks you, you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation of the next stroke. You close your eyes, unable to contain your ecstasy, the pleasure coursing through your veins.

You're lost in the sensation, ignoring everything but how amazing his mouth feels on you. The bed squeaks softly as you rock your hips, meeting each of his movements with your own.

His scent surrounds you, musky and arousing, igniting a fire inside you that burns hotter with every passing moment. His hands squeeze your thighs harder, teases you with his tongue, relentless in his ministrations.

You can feel the heat building inside of you, climaxing ever closer. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you near the edge, throat working to swallow back the moans that threaten to escape, but Namjoon stops you.

"I want to hear you, Y/N."

His words unleash a torrent of emotion in you, and you let out a loud moan as you begin to lose control. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him tighter against your sex as your hips buck wildly.

"I can't hold on," you gasp, your voice barely recognizable.

Namjoon smiles against you, and his fingers begin to move in time with his tongue, probing at your entrance, and you cry out, hips rocking off the bed.

You're close, so close, and you want release more than anything.

With a sudden surge of motion, he adds another finger, pushing it deep inside of you, stretching your walls. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he begins to thrust his hand, filling you up.

Your breath catches in your throat, you arch your back, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The combination of his fingers and tongue on your sensitive flesh is too much to bear, sending you spiraling over the edge. "Namjoon," you whispers, voice thick with desire, "I'm coming--"

Your body tenses, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. A moan rips from your throat as you come hard, hips jerking off the bed.

Your walls grip at his fingers, and your nails dig into his shoulders. You quiver and shake, your whole body shuddering from the force of your release.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N."

When you finally calm down, you feel the warm stickiness between your legs, the taste of him on your tongue.

Your eyes flutter open to see him smiling at you, his face flushed with pleasure. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you flinch from oversensitivity.

You slowly lift yourself up after coming down from your high, meeting Namjoon's eyes, clouded with desire and want.

You lean forward, reaching for his obvious erection, palming him through his pants.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his voice ragged.

"Take them off," you murmur seductively, your voice dripping with lust. Your eyes never leave his as he unzips the fly of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection. It's hard and thick, and you can't help but stare at it, your heart pounding in your chest in anticipation.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach out, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft, feeling how hot and hard he is. You stroke him slowly, watching his reactions, the way his eyes flutter shut and his lips part slightly. You can see the desire in his eyes, and you know that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You lean in close, brushing your lips against the head of his cock, teasing him with the promise of what's to come. He lets out a low groan as you trail soft kisses down his length

His shaft, before finally taking him deep into your mouth. You suck on him gently, using your tongue to tease and play with his sensitive head. Namjoon groans, his hands threading through your hair as you pleasure him, your lips slowly moving up and down his shaft.

His hips buck, trying to thrust into your mouth, and you let him, gagging slightly but continuing to take him deeper and deeper until his entire length is inside of you. You moan around him, enjoying the taste and feel of him, the warmth and the power you have over him.

"H-holy shit, Y/N. Fuck that feels so--fuck."

You pull back, sucking hard on the head one last time before releasing him. You look up at Namjoon, who is looking down at you with an expression of pure desire. 

His hands find their way into your hair, tangling in the silken locks as he struggles to maintain control. He moans your name, encouraging you to continue, his eyes closing tightly as he loses himself in the sensation. The sound of slurping and smacking fill the air as you bob your head up and down, your mouth working him almost mechanically.

He can feel the bed dipping slightly with every thrust of your head, your bodies moving in sync. The scent of arousal fills the room, and Namjoon knows he's close to the edge. He begins to pant, his breath coming faster as he nears his climax.

Sighing he grabs your hair tighter, pulling you off his dick and forcing you to look up at him, "Enough, I don't want to come before I'm inside of you."

Namjoon lets go of your makeshift ponytail, and reluctantly, you pull away, sitting on your haunches before him, waiting to see what he does next.

He roughly tugs his jeans the rest of the way down his legs, and you fiddle with the hem of his shirt, silently pleading with him to remove it so that he can be bare in front of you.

He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His rippling muscles and toned abs are revealed, sending a shiver down your spine.

Namjoon's sculpted body was, in his words, "a testament to the hours of dedication he committed to both his physical and mental well-being." His broad shoulders tapered downward into a lean, chiseled torso that showcased his defined pectoral muscles. The light caught the edges of his rippling abs, seemingly amplifying their strength. His arms, strong and toned, were equally impressive - a result of countless hours spent lifting weights and perfecting his form.

You stare at him in awe and reach out, wanting to feel his body against yours. You pull him down onto the bed, your hands exploring every inch of him as you kiss him passionately. His hands run through your hair, gently pulling it back as he takes your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

His body presses against you, your breasts flattening against his chest as he deepens the kiss. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsating, pushing against your thigh.

Your hands explore his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He lifts himself up, breaking the kiss, and you feel his weight shift as he positions himself between your legs.

He stares at you for a moment with questioning eyes, "Ready?"

You nod eagerly, breath hitched in anticipation. Namjoon slowly pushes himself inside you, your walls tightening around him as he fills you completely. You gasp, arching your back as your body adjusts to his girth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours.

He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, but gaining momentum as he finds your rhythm. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

"Shit, Namjoon!" You cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits just the right spot. His movements become more urgent, and you can feel his cock hitting your G-spot with each thrust.

"F-fuck Y/N. You’re so tight babe." He growls, his hips pounding into you.

You whimper, your body trembling from the sensation of his dick filling you up and stretching you out.

You're so close, so close to coming undo--

Suddenly, Namjoon pulls out of you, and you whine at the empty feeling, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "Namjoon, what are you--"

"Turn around," He interrupts, grabbing your hips, "ass up."

You blush at his words, but your arousal only deepens as he helps you turn around, and he positions himself behind you.

He rubs the head of his dick against your entrance, teasing you and making you crave him even more. You moan softly, reaching down to guide him inside you.

With a swift, powerful thrust, Namjoon slams into you, filling you completely as the bed creaks beneath the two of you. You cry out, your hands flying to your mouth to stifle the sound, but your voice gives out and you let out a yelp.

Your heart races as Namjoon's hips slam into you, feeling the thick length of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust.

You moan loudly, a hand clutching onto the sheets underneath you and the other running through your hair.

The headboard hits the wall with a loud thud as Namjoon forces himself deeper inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Your body trembles under the onslaught of sensations - the feeling of being here, the pleasure spreading through you, the sound of your skin slapping together.

"Damn, you have such a nice ass," Namjoon pants, his breaths coming in short gasps as he smacks the supple skin before running his hand back over the spot he marked to soothe it.

You whimper in response, it only serves to intensify the experience for you, the sting combining with the delight of being taken so roughly.

You thrust your hips back towards Namjoon, meeting his movements with equal force, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the floor.

"And these tits," He growls, leaning forward to cup your left breast, rolling the nipple through his fingers, causing you to moan loudly without restraint, body trembling with anticipation.

Namjoon growls low in his throat, his free hand finding its way to your puffy clit, rubbing it gently as he thrusts into you.

"Oh god, Namjoon!" It's almost too much for you to handle - the dual sensations are driving you wild.

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you don't want it to end yet, not when Namjoon is treating you like this.

With a groan, Namjoon pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in with more force than before. Your fingers dig into the mattress beneath you, breath hitching as your walls tighten around him, "Fuck, Namjoon, I'm so close!"

"Yeah? You gonna come again, baby?"

"Yes, Namjoon, please!"

Namjoon smiles wickedly, increasing his pace as he feels your desire growing. He grabs the back of your hips, pulling you harder against him as he thrusts deeper inside you. His thrusts are rough and unrelenting, his hips pounding into you with each powerful impact.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, the juice from your arousal seeping down your thighs and onto the bed. The sound of your breaths and his grunts fill the room as the tension builds. Your nails dig into the mattress, leaving small indentations as you cling to the fabric for dear life.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your skin and heightening your sensitivity. He tweaks your nipples, causing you to cry out with pleasure and pain. His fingers explore your inner thighs, trailing along your sensitive skin, making you tremble with desire.

"Oh, shit," Namjoon groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels his own orgasm beginning to build.

With a final burst of energy, you push back against him, meeting his every thrust as he pounds into you, his cock rubbing against your G-spot with each strong movement.

"Fuck, Namjoon!" You cry out, your body trembling uncontrollably as you feel your climax beginning to take hold.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so close," Namjoon growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

Your walls tighten around him once more, pulling him deeper inside you as you scream out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as you feel the waves of your release crash over you. Your walls tighten and release around Namjoon's pulsating cock, causing him to groan in pleasure.

His own release is becoming too much to hold back, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you as he lets out a loud groan. Your name on his lips as he cries out in pleasure, "Holy shit, Y/N!"

His hips stutter, body trembling as his orgasm overtakes him. You can feel his warm, fluid spilling inside of you, filling you completely. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before - it's intense, it's overwhelming, and you love every second of it.

He holds you tightly against him, his breath hot against the back of your neck, as he slowly starts to regain his composure. His heart is pounding against your back erratically.

You slowly open your eyes and look back at him, a content smile gracing your lips. "That was incredible, Namjoon," you breathe, your voice soft and sultry.

He kisses your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth as he moves down your shoulder. "I think I agree," he murmurs, his voice already starting to calm down.

You both lay panting, your bodies entwined, the sweat glistening on your skin, the scent of passion filling the room. He pulls out of you, his cock wet and sticky from your connection. He pulls his hips away from you and collapses next to you on the bed, both of you trying to regain your breath.

The seconds pass into minutes, and you both lay there in content silence, your bodies entwined, the remnants of your encounter still lingering between you.

Namjoon's fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. He leans in close to your ear, whispering, "Let me clean you up."

"Mmm, okay," you reply, your voice still thick with lust.

He gets off the bed and grabs a warm cloth from the bathroom, bringing it back to you.

Slowly, he turns you over, and you lay on your back, your legs spread wide, his body hovering above you. He takes the cloth and smiles, gently dabbing at your sensitive folds, cleaning away the remnants of your sexual encounter.

You moan softly, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasms. His touch is soothing, yet it sends shivers of desire through you. He continues to clean you, his fingers exploring your delicate folds as he does so.

Once he's finished, he places the cloth on the nightstand and lies down beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

His fingers trace the curve of your hip, massaging gently as you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow of what the two of you have just done.

The room is filled with the sound of your heartbeats, in sync and pounding in rhythm with each other. You feel safe and secure in Namjoon's arms, and you turn to face him, a gentle look etched into your features, "So, what did you think...?"

He softly strokes your hair, "About what?"

"Well...am I a bad lay...?" You mumble the last part and he smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"No, absolutely not. You were...perfect. He was probably just upset that you rejected him and that's how he reacted."

You snuggle closer, feeling his heartbeat syncing with yours,"I'm glad you're here with me," you whisper.

Namjoon nods, "Me too."

You smile, feeling his warmth enveloping you.

The tentative silence is broken by Namjoon's voice as he speaks, "Do you want me to stay the night?"

You think for a moment, "Yes, please."

"I'll be right back," he says as he gets off the bed, returning a moment later with a clean sheet and blanket. He carefully covers the two of you with the cozy layers, your bodies pressed closely together.

"Sleep well, Y/N." He whispers.

"Sleep well."

As the night progresses, you both drift off to sleep, the dim light from the moonlight streaming through the window casting soft shadows on the wall. The scent of sex lingers in the air, a heady reminder of the passion that had just passed between the two of you. You are lulled into a peaceful slumber, your hearts beating in harmony with each other's rhythm.

[little-annie]

Thanks to the @strangerthingswritersguild for the prompt and @eyesofshinigami for the brain worm 🪱 our conversation created.

Did you know in fan fic writing the term Rubber Ducking refers to bouncing ideas off of each other/ brainstorming with friends? Well I didn't. I thought it was a sex thing.

From that, this idea was born.

Rubber Ducking | M | 873 WC | Steddie | Buckingham

It was a cold February night when the first sighting occurred. The air in the apartment had felt different. Charged with an electricity Robin couldn't explain.

Something was happening. And at first she had thought it was an anomaly, then maybe a coincidence. 

But then it kept happening. 

Those black empty eyes met hers and mere hours later the sound of the city was lost to the wails of the night.

It sounded like torture.

Like the stripping of flesh and bones.

But even more horrifically, Robin learned it was anything but.

Sure, there was flesh and bone, but how Steve apparently getting absolutely railed by Eddie in the next room over had any connection to the rubber ducky that ended up on the living room coffee table every so often, Robin hadn't the slightest clue.

She just knew that unfortunately there had to be one.

A few weeks later, sitting at the breakfast bar and trying to ignore the low hanging neckline of Chrissy's already frankly obscene tank top, Robin notices the presence of yet another rubber ducky.

This one donning a Sailor's hat and suit. Similar to the one she remembers her and Steve wearing in their days at Scoops Ahoy. 

Not twenty minutes later she's met with Eddie asking if she knows where Steve hid his old uniform. Regrettably she tells him, and that night goes to bed taking precautionary measures with foam plugs in her ears.

The following week there's a light blue ducky on the coffee table instead, then a grey ducky the week after. Then after a few more weeks there's what appears to be a leather daddy ducky. 

Sometimes in between there's a plain normal rubber ducky.

“You figure it out yet?” Chrissy asks one evening, plopping down onto the couch next to Robin and setting her feet in her lap.

God what she wouldn't do for this girl and her polka dot pink fuzzy socks.

Looking over at the boys who are now apparently disgustingly in love, and currently trading lazy kisses and giggles back and forth in the loveseat, Robin sighs, “Unfortunately.”

She nearly had the code cracked before a drunken Steve had told her what it all meant.

Original Ducky = Someone is horny.

Sailor Ducky (Sir Butterscotch) = Someone wears the Scoops uniform. 

Light Blue (Richard) = Someone wants to give / receive head.

Grey (Bari) = Someone wants to be tied up/do the tying up.

Leather Daddy = "You really don't want to know Robin.”

So essentially flagging, she figures, but with various types of rubber duckys, which is horrific in its own way.

Now when one of them is feeling it, they pick a rubber ducky of their choosing and leave it out on the coffee table as a subtle way of asking for the represented attention.

“Sex Duck,” Robin sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch, turning to look at Chrissy, “They have a fucking sex duck.”

“Like that show with the sex mug?”

“Like the show with the sex mug.” She answers flatly 

Sure seeing the ducks at home was bad enough, but when they started appearing in the wild it was so much worse.

First in Steve's car on the dash, then Eddie's van, then one day at work when Eddie came sauntering in and pulled a light blue ducky from his pocket, tossing it in Steve's direction before walking off towards the employees only bathroom.

They think they're subtle, but really they're not.

It's just another Tuesday evening when a new ducky makes its way onto the coffee table in the living room. Traditional like the first, but donning a pink bow and black painted on lashes. Feminine. Cute.

Like a game, Robin's began trying to decipher the meaning behind every duck before Steve inevitably tells her. It helps her cope with the trauma. 

This one though, makes her wonder. 

Sitting on the couch staring probably a little too intensely at the newest addition to the boys collection, Robin hardly notices when Steve plops down beside her.

She startles when she notices him, his voice catching her off guard. “Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to figure out what kink of yours this little lady represents.”

Steve hums and Eddie joins them shortly after, settling in the rocking chair across from them, giving the ducky the same odd look Robin had been moments ago.

“Whatcha doing, Buck?”

She gestures to the duck, “Figuring out her deal.”

Feminization maybe?

“Chrissy?” Eddie asks

“What?” Robin looks up from those cute long lashed eyes, “No. Your duck.”

Next to her Steve huffs a laugh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch. “Not our ducky, Rob.”

What?

“Course it is.”

“Not our ducky, Babe.” Eddie repeats Steve's words.

It has to be. “Well it's not mine.” Robin grumbles.

“No, no Rob it's not.” Steve nudges Robin's knee with his, “Maybe it's meant for you though.”

No.

No?

Looking far too excited, Eddie smirks, “Chris is in her room isn't she?”

Well… it… it wouldn't hurt to check would it? Maybe the boys are just teasing her, playing a game. But on the off chance they're not…

“You gonna go get your girl, Rob?”

Jesus Christ, she's going to, isn't she?

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Jay Halstead: The Man Who Loves Her 

The link to the song that inspired this is here. This was healing for me to write. I hope everyone finds someone who will defend and protect them like Jay Halstead.  

Warnings: Daddy issue & alcoholism  

The bar was a hole in the wall. It was dingy but Jay had been in worse for work. Unfortunately, this unsavory stop had nothing to do with his job, and he knew he couldn’t get this bastard to bend to his will by flashing his badge. He knew he would get no satisfaction out of the encounter, more likely to be more pissed off than anything. 

He saw his target sitting at the bar in a dark corner. A beer was in his hand still chilled and two more empty next to him. Jay took a breath and then another to calm his anger.  

An attempt that failed. 

He charges over to the man with purpose and clears his throat. The man in front of him grunts. It pushes Jay’s buttons a little too well. He clears his throat again louder, and this time when he gets the same response, he slams his hand a little too roughly on the man's shoulder. It has the intended effect; the man turns to growl at Jay. “Do I know you?” 

“You would have if you had bothered to show up tonight.” The man sighs heavily and turns forward waving his hand in a clear dismissal as he takes another sip of a beer. Jay feels the anger start to bleed into fury. He let a breath out of his nose. He sits down on the stool next to the man. He grabs the bottle that's up to the other man's lips and slams it back onto the bar. Foam and beer spurts on the bar top. Eyes flash towards the disturbance. 

“Listen,” His tone is low and with a razorblade edge. “This isn't some shit that you get to wave away. She waited for you for hours. What the fuck was the point of making plans with her if you had no intention of showing up?” Your father glances down refusing to make eye contact with Jay’s icy blue gaze. “No, I was the one who pushed her to meet up with you again. The least you can do is look me in the eyes and talk to me man to man.” Jay slams his hand down the bar top when the man's stubborn gaze still refuses to meet his. His gaze shoots up at the noise. 

 More curious looks but Jay didn’t give a fuck about the scene he was causing. “You're a real piece of work, you know that.”  

“I tried my best,” Jay scoffed, his hands unconsciously turning to fists. 

“Your best? Bailing out of her when she needed you as a kid? Whirlwining in and out of her life for her early twenties? Not even being able to keep a fucking dinner that you invited her to? If that’s your best, I hate to see what you not caring looks like.”  

“It was just a bad time- a rough day- she will understand. She always does.” Jay was practically vibrating with anger.  

Your father hadn’t seen your doubt on his return. Hadn't heard you wave off the possibility of getting together. He hadn’t been there when Jay persuaded you into making those plans thinking it would be good for you- thinking it would help mend fences. He hadn’t seen the indifference turn to uncontrollable tears as the time passed in the restaurant. He didn’t know the fallout of his actions. The trust issues you had. The inability to believe that someone would stick around. He didn’t get crushed by the lack of self-confidence you had.  

Jay did. 

He was the one who had to heal the wounds that your father had left etched into your heart. The slow pace and the backtracking in your relationship. He had thought that he understood the problems you had with your dad. That he knew the pain that your dad had caused you. He now knew that you had downplayed the severity. You had clearly given him more than the benefit of the doubt. He felt like a complete asshole for pushing. His father’s death and the damage it had caused him were projected onto you instead.  

“We will try to get together again-” The beer never far from his fingertips returned to his lips to take another long pull. It was compulsory and Jay wanted to break his fingers.  

“No.” Jay growled definitely.  

“Now son,” 

“I’m not your son. And if you think for one second that I’m going to put her through this again, you're out of your damn mind. I wasn’t under the impression that you would try to fix everything, but I thought you would at least let her know that what happened wasn’t her fault.” 

“She knows that. She knows I love-”

Jay scoffs and gets up to leave. Your father doesn’t call after him or even acknowledge that he has got up to leave. Jay only takes a step before turning around. “You know I pity you. Your daughter is the most amazing person. Smart, funny, and pretty. She is sensitive but tough. A better person than I will ever be.” Jay reached into his back pocket. “I love her, and I get to go home to her tonight, and every other night of my life. But you? You’ve been damned from it, and you have no one to blame but yourself. Don’t call her again until you want to be a father.” Jay throws a twenty on the bar where it absorbs the spilled beer. “Here, the next round is on me.”  

Jay doesn’t look back as he exits the bar.    

[adyophene]

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: none -- oh you get thrown into a vat of radioactive liquid, but it doesn't hurt too bad.

a/n: when you think of another fic idea in the middle of writing your other WIP :D

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 716

part 2 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Here’s a riddle:

“What do you get when you push an unemployed woman into a vat of radioactive liquid?”

Apparently, an unemployed enemy of the state. 

You were never the kind of girl who grew up ripping the heads off of your Barbies, or a woman who falls in love with a guy at the insane asylum. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

As soon as your head ducked under the burning liquid, you thought you were dead. So you let go and stopped struggling. But really, is there anyone in history who hasn’t survived being pushed into a vat of something?

For example, there's Electro with the eels, and Sandman with the, uh, sand, so you really shouldn’t have been surprised when you woke up with more energy than you’ve ever felt before, though your back was killing you.

Opening your eyes, you noticed you were splayed over a sidewalk, clothes barely covering you as most of the fabric disintegrated in the power plant. Then you saw fire. Lots of fucking fire.

With a quick turn of your head, your eyes followed the trail of destruction all the way back to the exploded building where the accident happened. And before you knew it, you were in cuffs, being questioned by the police.

It’s easy to break out of jail, especially when you can burn right through the iron bars. And it’s easy to lose the cops too when you can scale buildings.

Despite your increased strength, agility, and sensitized hearing, there are several setbacks to being a random woman full of radioactive energy. Your hair, for one, is completely orange. Who knew radioactive juices acted like cheap boxed bleach?

You constantly have to re-dye it back to your original shade and use tons of hair oil to keep it from frizzing up but it only really lasts for a day or two. Talk about having awkward one-night stands…

Unfortunately, your hair is the most recognizable feature of yours so civilians started to call you “Blaze” like some sort of Fantastic Four character. You hate it. 

You also can’t get a job because you’re the most wanted woman in Nueva York. So you resort to “borrowing” some money from rich people who definitely wouldn’t notice or care. And then you got caught.

“So it’s been you this whole time?” The low voice makes you jump. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home. “So you’re the one stealing hundreds of dollars from innocent civilians?”  The Spider-man slowly walks out from the shadowed corner of the office, making the moment as dramatic as possible. 

You quickly close whoever’s laptop you were trying to get into before holding your hands up in a dumb attempt to act innocent. He looks unimpressed by your ‘sneaky outfit’, eyes pouring over the black turtleneck and faded black jeans. Look, it’s not like you had a closet full of options.

You frown, “They’re hardly innocent.”

“Hm,” He slides the laptop toward himself, opening it up to see how far in you got. You didn’t. You were about to give up and leave before he interrupted you. “How so?”

You scoff without thinking about it, “You think a person can make billions of dollars without taking advantage of people?” Apparently, your words amuse him, and a small smirk quirks on his lips. The light of the computer reflects against his cherry red irises. He’s… pretty.

“All I know,” He shuts the laptop and finally looks up at you, dropping any hint of his previous smile. “Is that you blew up a power plant, escaped prison, and now live off of the money that you’re taking from others.”

“C’mon Spider-Man, it’s only a couple of bucks. I don’t have a job–”

“No kidding.” He shakes his head and takes a second to think about something before offering you a hand over the desk, almost like a peace offering. “Here’s my proposition: you come with me and we can get some dinner before getting you back to where you belong.” You quirk a brow upwards, suspicious of his change in tone. “Come on, it’s late. I’d rather avoid the fighting part.” 

“Back to…where?”

“Prison, honey.” 

That was the start of your cat-and-mouse relationship with the one and only, Spider-Man.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

🗒️ Vandal 🗒️

Word Count: 16,000+ (And nobody asked for any of it!)

Summary: A quiet high school student looks a little too closely at the tragic events afflicting their hometown. Can you uncover the truth while keeping your own secrets hidden? Or will a lapse in judgment expose you to a world of hurt? || Kol x disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: Some language, references to blood and gore, Kol being a psycho, and some dubious consent but nothing violent or graphic. This turned out a little more Yandere than I intended. Just expect ya gal's general tomfoolery.

A/N: Howdy-doo, this is your captain speaking. I know I promised a lot of you that I would have the sequel to Run for Your Life finished last week, but it's still not done and I'm really sorry. I wrote this instead. Please forgive me. I hate letting y'all down but inspiration has been really low as of late and, as some of you know, I've been facing some very serious struggles with people in my life. My sense of self-worth has been suffering, but writing this fic has been my best escape. So again, I'm really sorry to those who were expecting the Klaus fic, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

🗒️ Story Begins Below 🗒️

When Niklaus Mikaelson confined himself to his studio, it was common knowledge among all parties of blood relation to the original hybrid that any sibling who valued their breathing privileges should promptly vacate the premises until such a time as that tortured artist ceased muttering his internal monologue aloud. 

Kol, for one, was quite fond of his breathing privileges, thank you very much. 

Ugh, breathing. 

The one thing he’d never thought would require adjusting to through the centuries was now yet another factor among a dozen others that required getting used to. 

The air of this new age he’d found himself in was thick and hazy with chemicals and other nonsense he didn’t care to think about. Drawing the filthy mixture into his lungs required significantly more effort from him than it used to. He wondered vaguely how the humans surrounding his seat at the bar of this stodgy town’s only decent restaurant did it with such ease. It must’ve been tiring. Perhaps that was why so many of the patrons around him seemed content to spend their morning religiously devoted to quaffing down as much of that - oh, what had Mary-Alice called it? - caffeine stuff as they could possibly contain. 

Though the name would suggest otherwise, Kol figured the only way the Mystic Grill, as the place was called, could remain in business was to serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks. Hence why the place was packed with half-conscious teenagers at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, stopping off for something to eat on their way to school. How did Rebekah enjoy this? Though she’d accompanied him to the grill, Kol’s sister had been quick to grab her coffee and ditch him. She wanted to arrive to school early so she could “talk”. (The notion tempted Kol to impale himself on a billiard cue.) 

Rebekah was also rather upset with him, or more specifically, his newfound enrollment in her high school. There was nothing he could do about that, however. If it was up to him, Kol would choose to spend his time literally any place else. Unfortunately for him, after that little incident with Rebekah’s date, mother dearest had been contemplating ways to keep him in line. High school was evidently what she’d come up with. It was Finn’s idea actually. Kol’s eldest brother - dull lout that he was - had suggested that perhaps attending high school with his sister would provide a convenient way for Kol to catch up on recent history, as well as assist him in developing some control over his appetite seeing as each family member had given their word not to shed the blood of any locals. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Esther had done more than just readily agree. She’d also cast a tracking spell on him. If he strayed beyond the town’s limits, she would know. 

Rest assured, he would find a way to weasel out of it - that was certain. But for now, Kol was stumped. This resurrected version of his mother wasn’t quite so dismissive of him as she’d been in Kol’s human life. He should have liked that - should have reveled in it. Yet, having her attention this time around came with a cold harshness he wasn’t so fond of. For now though, he would have to endure his punishment. Thanks to Klaus, he couldn’t even skip out.

Thus Kol found himself in an overly crowded restaurant, at six in the morning on his first day of school, surrounded by teenagers.

Kol desperately wished he could eat one or two of them. 

They were so rowdy and obnoxious. The whole world it seemed had grown significantly louder since he’d been daggered in nineteen fourteen. So much information assaulting his senses constantly. It was maddening. Being surrounded by thirty or so warm bodies didn’t exactly help. The chorus of their heartbeats fell on his sensitive ears like the cresting of ocean waves and like a riptide, he would surely be carried away if he allowed himself to listen much longer. 

The boy’s throat burned. He was hungry. Always hungry. He could practically taste the relief on his tongue. The high he could get from just one little cheerleader…

Kol got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and shoved his way out the door, cursing Finn’s name to Hel and back. He reached the end of the street and stopped. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kol rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Wrong move.

A gentle autumn breeze swept past and carried with it a hint of something sweet. No, that was too tame. That scent on the air was like pure sugar and spring water, something like berries and roses and cotton candy all rolled into one supremely tempting aroma so overpowering he nearly choked. White hot pain shot through him and his mouth watered. He was standing in the midst of town square before he even realized he’d moved. 

There, kneeling hunched over on the ground, all alone in the early morning, was a young woman who looked about the same age as he did. Any view of her face was obscured by the curtain of her hair as it fell around her in something of an untamed mess. Her clothes, nothing fancier than a t-shirt and shorts, were rumpled and irreparably stained with just about every color one could imagine as she focused intently on whatever she was doing. Scattered all around her were about a dozen cans of paint and at least a hundred individual sticks of chalk in a variety of shades. She was decorating the walkways, Kol realized as he watched her dip her hand directly into one of the cans of paint before slathering the color over the flagstones she was working on. Once satisfied that the area was evenly covered, she sat up.

The girl paused to wipe her hand on a wet rag before shuffling back around to a different section where the paint looked a little drier. 

Kol had just enough time to register the pattern of scrapes that decorated her hands and knees before that delicious scent washed over him again. It was stronger now that he was so close and like a punch to the gut, just a whiff of it knocked the wind out of him. His throat seared and his fangs ached. She was right there in front of him, trickles of blood seeping from her hands and knees - rivers of temptation. Whatever ichor was rushing through that girl’s veins would certainly be divine. Kol wanted it. He wanted to taste her warm human skin - wanted to lick the scarlet from those teasing little scrapes she’d made. No one was around. He could have that sweet, sweet crimson ambrosia all to himself. 

There was just one problem. This girl was a local. Her residence was clear from the tags dangling from her backpack which she’d tossed a few feet away. Kol couldn’t eat any of the locals, he’d given his word on it. 

Unfortunately for him, that boy’s sense of honor apparently wasn’t enough to keep his legs from moving. He was standing over her shoulder in a matter of seconds. His looming shadow must have caught her attention because the girl paused her work (she was rubbing lines of chalk into the paint now) and twisted around to look up at him, squinting against the rising sun at his back. Her cheeks were twinged with a delicious shade of pink, likely due to the warm, humid morning, and she smiled in a friendly, albeit slightly confused way.

“Hey!” She greeted - voice practically a chirp. The girl lifted a hand to her face in an effort to further block out the sun, but the offensive light couldn’t dampen her smile. Kol fought the urge to roll his eyes at her sunny disposition.

“Good morning, darling.” He flashed her a grin - the crooked one that made girls like her faint. Kol gestured to the swirling mix of hues currently stinging his eyes. “What’s this going to be?” 

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Could you say that a little louder?” She asked. Her voice was soft but rich with a delicate, wispy quality to it like a warm caramel stretched apart. He supposed it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to.

“Are you painting something specific or is it more abstract?” He wondered, raising his voice a little. Abstract was certainly the most polite term for eyesore, he thought. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! It’s Mystic Falls,” She said brightly. Then she paused. Her face scrunched up a bit and even Kol could admit it was a little endearing. “Um, I mean, not the town, but like, the falls as in the waterfalls… yeah.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper at the end and she cast her eyes away. 

Kol hummed. “I see.” He didn't actually care, however. He’d seen enough. This girl, tantalizing as her blood might be, wasn’t worth his time - nor his mother’s wrath should he break his oath. There was no thrill in chasing someone like that, girls like her gave in too easily. 

Without warning, the little artist stiffened and whipped her head back up to face him, drawing Kol from his thoughts. 

“Say, what’s the time?” She wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Her lips looked rather tasty when she did that.

Kol raised a brow and checked his watch. “Ten to seven,” He answered. 

She cocked her head again. “Sorry, what?”

“Ten to seven,” He repeated a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Bloody hell!” The boy huffed. “It’s six-fifty! Are you Deaf?”

She snorted. “Uh, huh. Yeah.” Kol’s eyes narrowed but the girl only turned her head, shoving a lock of hair back to reveal some technological array perched over her ear. The artist shrugged and faced him again. “It’s the accent, I think. Plus, it ain’t my fault you mumble. What time did you say it was again? I forgot.”

It wasn’t the disability that annoyed him, he wasn’t that shallow. It was her attitude he couldn’t stand. 

“Six. Fifty. One,” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “CRAP!” 

The annoying little artist sprang to her feet, scooped her bag from where she’d flung it, and dashed off just like that. He huffed at her lack of tact - not so much as a word of thanks. It was probably best for both of them if they never saw each other again. That mouth-watering ray of sunshine was unlikely to survive another encounter with him.

As he debated whether or not to just wander around aimlessly for the remainder of the day, Kol caught sight of an object that must have tumbled out of the artist’s bag. Only the slightest bit curious, he bent down to pick it up. Upon taking a closer look at it, Kol raised a brow. Well worn and faded, the sketchbook in his hands was nothing special - almost every artist had one, that was no surprise. What caught his attention, however, was the design on the cover, or more accurately, what had been made of it. Whereas the front of the sketchbook had once depicted a quaint scene from what he recognized to be the story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with little Alice looking up at the Cheshire Cat perched lazily in a tree, the girl had turned it into something far more sinister. 

For one thing, she’d given Alice a broadsword. Her dress had been redecorated with dirt stains and blood. As for the Cheshire Cat, the artist had transformed the feline into a marionette with blood-stained teeth and dreadful claws. The background had been scribbled out with a black marker. All save for a grinning silhouette, tugging at the strings of its Cheshire Cat puppet, and a line of bold, bloody letters spelling out the phrase: “We’re All Mad Here.”

It was a delightfully grotesque perversion of a story Kol had rather enjoyed reading when it was first published. Perhaps that girl wasn’t quite so boring after all. 

Kol smirked and slipped the sketchbook into his own school bag. Serves her right for being so disrespectful. Besides, the book was steeped in that exquisite aroma of hers, and if he couldn’t devour the poor thing then keeping a little memento was his next best option. If she wanted it back, she’d simply have to prove herself deserving of it. Until then, that little book of horrors was all his.

Who knows what he might do with it?

No matter what, this was bound to be… entertaining.

***

You’d never liked cheerleaders. They’d always seemed so shallowly chipper - the sort of nice that giggles behind a person’s back. Most people said you were just jealous, wishing you could have their beauty, body, or popularity. They were wrong, of course, cheerleading simply wasn’t your thing. As for appearances, at least you were confident enough in your looks that you didn’t require validation from fellow minors. You never corrected the masses though. You let them think whatever they want. (After all, you had other, more important things on your mind.)

All feelings about cheerleaders aside, they were excellent subjects for drawing poses. It was them or the football team and you couldn’t be paid enough to go anywhere near them. Besides, you had already obtained permission from the members of the cheer squad to sit in on their practices. They figured you must have been lonely and seeking their approval. You didn’t correct them either. The girls on the squad were nice enough, though you didn’t know any of them very well. Just some first names. 

Caroline, Bonnie, Amber, Laura, Rebekah. 

Now that Rebekah was an odd one. She sort of unnerved you. Like the rest, the British blonde was nice enough, but something about her wasn’t quite right. She’d just dropped off the map for a month and a half and then showed up today as if she’d never been gone. Then there was her relationship with the other cheerleaders. Half of them avoided her like the plague and the other half worshiped the ground she walked on. It wasn’t normal.

Life isn’t like the drama shows all over tv. Kids in the real world don’t act that way. 

You hadn’t grown up in Mystic Falls. Your parents moved your family into town one year ago. Though you were just a sophomore then, you knew enough to understand that something about this whole town and everything that had been happening within the last year just wasn’t right. Within your sophomore and junior years alone, no less than twenty-six kids were reported missing. At least six were later confirmed dead.

Was it really any wonder you kept to yourself? 

You were fine with being alone. It didn’t bother you. 

What bothered you was that you had somehow lost track of your sketchbook. That bundle of pages hardly ever left your person. You never went anywhere without it, and yet when you had sat on the bleachers and reached into your backpack to pull it out, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found. Who knew what small-town hic had gotten their grubby little hands on it? 

Alright, that was mean. You just wanted your book back. The idea of someone else flipping through your sketches irked you to no end.

“Well hello again, darling!” A semi-familiar voice rang out from behind you on the bleachers and you twisted around to face him. Had that kid been up there all this time? The boy grinned down at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You offered him a tight smile. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “Fancy that.”

The boy was pretty, that was for sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a sharp jawline. Not to mention that smile, you’d sooner light yourself on fire than call it “dazzling” but you would like to draw it sometime. All in all, he was probably the closest thing to masculine perfection you would ever lay eyes upon. But you weren’t dumb enough to judge a person off of looks alone. 

Though you had nothing to go off of aside from your brief meeting that morning, you didn’t quite like that kid. On the surface, he seemed alright. A little impatient but still pretty normal. It was the way he looked at you… it reminded you of the feeling you got back in your old town whenever you noticed that your best friend's pet boa constrictor was watching you from inside its tank - how its eyes would follow you no matter what you did. It wasn’t an exactly pleasant sensation. Those onyx eyes of his - when you looked into them, you couldn’t see much of a person looking back. His eyes sparkled when he smiled but behind them… behind them there was nothing. A charming grin without a person inside.

The boy’s odd smile only broadened. 

“You know, I-I didn’t take you for the cheerleading type,” He said. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, squinting against the sun in your eyes. Did he always have to position himself so you had to blind yourself to look at him?

“I’m… not.”

He chuckled. “Obviously.” Climbing to his feet, the boy hopped up onto the seat in front of him and walked gracefully down to your level - at least, as gracefully as one can while walking on bleachers. You should probably warn him about the-

“Careful, that next one wobbles,” You spoke up. Your voice never seemed to come out as loud as you intended, yet he didn’t seem to have a problem catching it. 

“Ah-” He tested the next row with his foot and stepped over it lightly. “Thank you very much.” He grinned again as he jumped down beside you.

The boy was much too close for your liking. 

“You’re welcome,” You mumbled, shuffling away slightly. He only leaned in closer.

“So, if you’re with the cheerleaders, but you’re not one of them, then what does that make you?” He wondered, oblivious or insensitive to your discomfort. You couldn’t tell which. “Unrequited lover or wannabe?”

He raised a brow, smirking in a way that appeared bemused but you could sense its condescending edge. You just shrugged. He could think whatever he wanted. 

He was baiting you, that you were sure of. The dark-haired senior wanted you to answer. He waited for you to answer. But his was a lure you weren't going to bite.  You just kept on drawing - filling in lines, and fine-tuning expressions. You were sure he would give up eventually, kids like him always did.

“Are those your chemistry notes?” He asked finally. 

You hummed and nodded. You’d never been too much of a talker. It had nothing to do with your hearing loss, or maybe it did. That was just who you were either way.

“And you’re sketching in them?”

You shrugged. “Lost my sketchbook.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” At least he had the decency to sound sympathetic. “Did you have it this morning?” You nodded. This boy was persistent, you would give him that. He kept talking. “I see… Well, I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I would have loved to see it,” He said. 

Your lips twitched up in a smile. You wouldn’t have shown him anyway, but that didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

"You never answered my question," He pointed out. He was trying to get to you - get closer to you - and while any other girl would do backflips for the attention of a boy like him, you weren't any other girl. If he wanted to know you, then you couldn't let that happen. If you did, he might figure out your secret. Then you could lose everything - your education, your clean record, and the only money-making opportunity you were likely to get in this tiny, provincial town.

"I know." You sighed and closed your substitute sketchbook, just a little fed up. Maybe it was time to let the sunny, shy-girl facade drop. Perhaps a quick glimpse of who you really were would deter him. "But you're here too. So which are you? Unrequited lover or wannabe?"

The boy threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. His laugh sounded like a stone splashing into a calm pond. Sudden and unique - one of a kind. When his gaze returned to you, he seemed to look you over as if reevaluating his previous judgment of your character. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and shrugged. 

"That's a fair point you make there, darling. I'll have to disappoint you, however, as I am merely here to pick up my sister." He gestured to the girls practicing on the field and then shot you a smirk. The boy held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, darling. I'm Kol, Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, weary.

"I…" 

Glancing up, you met the endless black pits that were his eyes. Your stomach felt queasy. Better to be safe than sorry.

You pushed his hand away. "I… don't particularly care." 

Without another word, you packed up your things and skipped down the bleachers. Exiting left of the football field. 

Perhaps you'd left him stunned. You didn't bother looking back to check.

You started seeing Kol quite often after that, which wouldn't have been weird had he not been a year above you. If it wasn't coincidence that saw you sharing both lunch period and study hall with him, then you didn't want to think about what it was. He kept his distance, which you appreciated. Kol didn't approach you for a while, but whenever you were in the same room with him you couldn't seem to shake a feeling that you were being watched. Closely. 

The day that pattern changed was the day you walked down the hall and found yourself greeted by photocopies of your art taped to every locker. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes landed on that first row of metal doors. The papers fluttered in the wind generated by passing students but you would recognize your art anywhere. 

It was one of the pages from your sketchbook - one of the sketches no one was supposed to see. 

This one depicted the football team, gathered on the field for practice. The sky above was dark and they had their helmets off. Each player's complexion was ghostly pale and their glowing red eyes all stared soullessly at the viewer. Their expressions displayed no emotion, but together they stood in a threatening formation. You had taken inspiration from both classic zombie movies and The Matrix for that sketch. In the top left corner, you had etched the title. You called it "The Hive." 

The only problem was, you hadn't exactly obtained the team's permission to draw it. 

To make matters worse, someone had added an inscription to the image that read: "Members of The Hive possess no individual thought or personality. Furthermore, they acknowledge only other facets of their collective consciousness." The words were scrawled across a crumpled sticky note attached to the top right-hand corner of the page. You hadn't written those words, but it sure looked like your handwriting. Your name was even signed at the bottom.

Someone had stolen and altered your sketchbook, and now they were using it against you.

Panic and paranoia welled up inside you. Clutching your books to your chest, you quickened your pace, catching glimpses of more and more hallways decorated with your sketch. Whispers followed you as you rushed down the hall to your locker, hoping to escape and find solace in your first class of the day, but you had no such luck. Reaching your destination, you gasped at the sight before you, recoiling in shame and confusion. It was like a shot taken straight from a television drama. This thief - whoever they were - had covered your locker with copies of that picture. 

Who would do something like this? You had only been in town a year - you wouldn't have thought that long enough to garner this degree of animosity from anyone.

"What the actual hell, Y/N?" A student exclaimed from down the hall.

Your mouth hung, gaping in shock and you floundered for something - anything to say. There was nothing. No defense. 

"Yeah, Y/L/N! What did Matt and the team ever do to you?"

Your eyes widened. "What?" You shook your head, blinking rapidly as you tried to explain, but your voice refused to rise over the commotion, accusations, and judgment. "N-no, they didn't. I mean, I wasn't trying to-to…"

"You realize how sick this is, right?" Another kid demanded, closer to you this time. "Like, seriously. Judgy much?"

"No, it's not like that," You insisted. It felt like your whole world had been tossed upside down. "I-I just-" You stammered, hapless. For once, it was the people around you who couldn't seem to hear.

"What a creep," Muttered someone else as they passed close enough for your hearing aids to register. Was that what everyone thought of you?

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" Your heart sank. Shame overwhelmed you and you buried your face in your hands, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Your heart felt like a voodoo doll, impaled with all sorts of pins. You'd never felt impressed to explain yourself to anyone. You had never cared what anyone else thought of you. But when you had imagined all the ways your life might fall apart, this wasn't one of the ways you had envisioned. That drawing and the dozens of others like it - they were yours. 

You wished you'd never made them in the first place.

Shaking your head, you switched off your hearing aids and hugged your arms around yourself, perfectly content to stew in your own misery. A dull roar met your ears as students passed by. None stopped to address you. A few of them tossed crumpled-up photocopies of your sketch at your head but you ignored them.

Then a hand settled itself on your knee. 

Startled, you peeked between your fingers, expecting someone like the assistant principal or guidance counselor to be kneeling in front of you. Instead, you were met with the concerned countenance of none other than Kol Mikaelson. 

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. 

He proffered a gentle smile and said something, but his words were lost to the prattling hum that encompassed your world without hearing aids. You preferred it this way. It was your natural state. You saw instead of listened, it was what made you such a good artist. Or so you'd thought.

You shook your head at him weakly, pointing to your ears, and mouthed, "I can't hear you."

Why was he here? Was he just going to tease you as he had a few weeks ago on the football stands? 

Kol nodded. "I know," He signed. His movements were small and lax - nonthreatening. 

Unsure how to interpret his sudden kindness and understanding, you shifted to sit up a little straighter, eyeing him. Kol's lips pressed into a thin line that tried to look like a smile. Without warning, he removed the textbooks resting in your lap and stood.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" He sighed, offering you his hand. Hesitantly, you reached out and took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You stiffened as the boy let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you swiftly against his side, shielding you from the view of others in the hallway as he hastily but gently herded you down crowded hallways and out the heavy steel front doors. 

Just outside the school, there were picnic tables set up where students could sit to study or eat lunch. Those were deserted by now as first period was speedily approaching. Kol guided you to one of them and dropped your books on the table, gesturing for you to sit. You weren't overly fond of being told what to do, but you figured this was probably Kol's best effort to be nice so you obliged. He sat down in front of you and cupped your jaw in his hand. With his brows furrowed and expression drawn the boy seemed to be inspecting your face, though for what you couldn't be sure. 

Absently, you noticed that his hands were very warm despite the changing season. (Why that thought made your stomach queasy was a question for another time.)

Kol's thumb brushed over your cheek and you wanted to look away to hide the flare of heat that consumed your cheeks, but he wouldn't let you. 

"Well, you're not panicking," He observed after what felt like an eternity. "That's good." 

His words were muffled without your hearing aids but now, away from the commotion of the bustling hallways, you could understand him well enough. 

You gave a small nod and, refusing to meet his eyes, focused instead on the grass beneath your feet. 

"I'm fine," You whispered. Your voice was a little hoarse but he didn't know you well enough to recognize that. 

"Are you sure?"

The question was inevitable, yet you found yourself scowling anyway. 

Of course you were fine. You were always fine. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn't want his pity, that you weren't some distressing damsel and that he needed to mind his own business. You weren't some charity case he could use to prove to all the senior girls that he could be a sensitive boyfriend. (You'd been there once. You weren't going through it again.) But, as always, the boldness in your head could never seem to leave your lips.

"It's not your responsibility to take care of me," You told him instead. In your lap, your hands fiddled and tugged on the too-long sleeves of your sweater. You'd gotten chalk on your jeans again.

He let his hand drop and the swirling autumn winds cooled your cheeks. You sort of missed the warmth.

"I know that." Kol's concern morphed into a smirk. This was it. You prepared for the incoming ridicule. It never came. "You don't like anyone getting close, do you?" He guessed, casually leaning back as though he already knew the answer. (And respected it.) "Makes you uncomfortable, I'd imagine."

You shrugged and picked at the loose threads on your sleeve. Honestly, he was right - you were just a bucket of trust issues in a Technicolor wrapper. But was that any of his business? No.

"Why are you here?" You wondered in lieu of an answer. 

Kol raised a brow. "Apologies, darling. I was unaware that it's illegal for a bloke to be a good friend 'this side of the pond." 

"It's not illegal," You said. Your eyes narrowed. "But we're not friends."

You'd made a handful of friends since moving to this town. None of them had come to your aid. Then again, none of them knew about your sketchbook.

Kol smirked. "Consider this an application then!" He surmised, eyes glinting. Those unnerving tar pits seemed a little less dead today than they had before. What changed? He chuckled, amused at your loss for words, and continued. "Besides, I get the feeling I'm just about the only one who knows that sketchbook of yours was stolen from you. The only thing I want to know is, what made you draw that picture?" 

Maybe… if you told him the truth about the sketches, he wouldn't look any closer. 

"I don't like Stefan Salvatore," Came your quiet answer. 

That didn't seem to be what he was expecting, but he didn't look disappointed. Kol's lips twitched and he wet his lips in a way that betrayed a certain excitement. 

"Go on."

You took a breath.

"He and I were the only two new kids last year," You began. If you said this, you were going to sound like a lunatic, that was why you'd always opted to draw it out instead. "Strange things happen in this town, and they happen around him. No town has as many "animal attacks" as this one and those only started when he showed up. People started going missing. Some were found dead. Mr. Saltzman is our history teacher because the guy before him got ripped up right over there in the parking lot just before Stefan's first game as part of team. The police said it was a mountain lion, but I was there; I saw the body and there were no scratches. Then there's the way some of his friends a-and Mr. Saltzman look at him sometimes - I've seen them do it - like he's about to murder everyone in the room and they don't know how to stop him."

Kol stared at you. His expression had grown increasingly weary the longer you kept on rambling. When you finally closed your mouth, he nodded slowly, brows furrowed. You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

"That is…" He trailed off. To your great surprise, however, he nodded as if he actually believed you. "Deeply disturbing, darling." Kol's eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. "You say you saw your teacher's corpse?" He asked.

You nodded. "The "bite" on his neck looked a lot more like buck-shot to me."

His eyes widened. "You think someone killed him?" He hissed.

"And the police covered it up."

"So why draw the football team?"

You hugged your arms around yourself. "Because Matt Donovan is in on it. It's him, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore - they've been acting so weird. Two months ago, Tyler and Stefan started acting really mean all of a sudden and the rest of the football team just started acting like zombies, doing anything they said. It was really freaky."

"And you drew it so you wouldn't have to be afraid." Kol nodded, smiling softly. "Put all the horrors in a little book and out of your head."

This kid had you dead to rights.

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater. "I never meant to hurt anyone," You sighed.

"I know," He said. "For the record, I quite liked your little interpretation."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I'm not sure yet," The dark-haired boy admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, I've never known another town to have as many functions as this one."

"Right?!" You exclaimed. Finally, someone else saw it! "Smells like organized crime to me…"

"Or cult activity."

"Or that."

"Or maybe you're just a little paranoid," Kol surmised. "But if that's the case, then who am I to judge?"

For the first time in a while, your shoulders shook with a genuine laugh. 

"Thanks Kol."

"Anytime, love."

And that boy lived up to his word. Over the span of the next several weeks, more of your sketches were spread about the school. It wasn't long before your so-called friends had all cut contact. Kol became the only person in town willing to talk to you. Every time a drawing was leaked, no matter how dark, twisted, or gruesome the image, Kol was always there to comfort you and compliment your art style. 

Each drawing that circulated the school was more damaging to your reputation than the last. Anyone you thought was in on the secret of Mystic Falls' suspicious deaths, you turned into a monster in the pages of your sketchbook. 

Jeremy Gilbert became a tortured Voodoo doll. 

("Well, there's an odd comparison," Kol commented idly, inspecting the array of pages that had overtaken your locker. "I quite like it."

A student shoved past you on their way to class, ramming painfully into your shoulder. You winced, aware that the action was purposeful, but you didn't say anything. Kol, however, glared at the kid - a cold, chilling sort of glare. 

You shrugged, readjusting your backpack.

"He just always seems so pained lately. 'Looks at everyone like they're gonna kill 'em.")

Elena, his sister, you portrayed as a prim, psychotic puppet master. 

("I'm sorry, but have I done something to you?" The popular and gorgeous former cheerleader asked when she confronted you about the sketch she clutched in her hand. Seniors Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donovan stood with their arms crossed, flanking her on both sides. The sight only served to reinforce the role your imagination had given her - the girl wore her ex's around her like accessories. They were always there to cover for her strange behavior.

"N-no, it's not like that. I-I-I swear!" You stammered, eyes flicking between her broad-shouldered bodyguards. You swallowed thickly. 

"Look, Y/N," Elena sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but whatever is going on in your life, you can't take it out on me. Or anyone else." 

"That's not what I'm doing," You mumbled, shuffling your feet. She didn't seem to hear you. 

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then you need to tell someone about it," Elena said. You were only a few months younger than her, yet she talked down to you as though you were a toddler. You wished the anger that flared and frothed inside you, didn't look like shame as it stained your cheeks. "I know we're not close, but you can always tell me if something's happening, okay?"

"No thank you, I'm fine." 

"Y/N, it's okay to let someone in." The girl pressed. 

You gritted your teeth, wishing she would just go. "I-"

"Pretty sure she doesn't have to tell you anything, sweetheart," A melodiously snide voice hummed from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Kol a relieved smile. He dropped a quick wink in return before focusing on his fellow seniors. Elena and her posse seemed to tense up around him for some reason. 

"What's it to you, Kol?" Stefan demanded. 

"Oh, I dunno. Basic human decency? Nothing much," He replied. The dark-haired senior shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked, smug as a bug. 

"How 'bout you mind your own damn business for a change," Matt snapped. He almost made a move toward your friend but Elena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Kol snorted at their reactions. "Why so defensive? 'Weren't expecting this lovely young lady to have some back-up?" He slung an arm around your shoulder and began twisting a lock of your hair around and around his finger. You sort of liked him tugging on it the way he did.

"We were just a little concerned," Elena claimed.

"Right." Kol smiled thinly. Releasing his fingers from your hair, he took a threatening step forward. You hadn't realized before just how tall that boy was. "Well, as Y/N said, she doesn't need your concern. So why don't you run along and take your puppets with you." 

The three seniors reluctantly surrendered under the force of Kol's steely glare and you watched them go, hugging your arms around yourself and shivering. Kol turned back to you. His hands found their way to your shoulders and he stopped down a little to look you in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked. His eyes were still dark, but not the pits of tar they'd been before. They were more like soft dirt now, holding the promise of future life. 

Kol gently smoothed his hands over your arms, spreading a gooey, molten warmth everywhere his skin touched. There was something bubbly in your lungs and the shudder that ran down your spine this time wasn't from nerves. 

You took a breath and tried to ignore how his touch made you want to melt.

"I'm fine," You lied. You were fine. You were always fine.

The boy smiled as though he didn't quite believe you. "That's good." He tilted his head in the direction Elena and the others had disappeared to. "You were right about them, though. There's definitely something strange going on there."

You nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course, darling.")

Bonnie Bennett, by the grace of your overactive imagination, had been transformed into a wicked witch. Ancient runes glowed in the air, surrounding her dark ritual. Oddly enough, the thief had changed a few of them, though you weren't sure why.  

("If I might ask, why a witch for that one?" Kol asked as the girl herself scowled venomously at you from the other side of the gym.

He sat with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, leaning in close so you would hear him though he spoke softly, having stayed a little longer after school to help you with your chemistry homework now that no one else would. You could smell cinnamon and something tangy on his breath as his lips brushed over your ear and you tried not to shiver. The whole school probably thought you were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. 

"There's some weird looking stuff in that girl's locker," You whispered back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the daggers she was glaring at your head. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "At the fundraiser we had last year, there was this car that just caught fire outta nowhere. The thing wasn't even running and it just exploded. Everybody was freaking out and running but Bonnie just stood there, staring at it like she was possessed."

Kol glanced up at the Bennett girl again. "You know what?" He decided, tilting his head. "I can see it." He sent Bonnie a little wave and turned back to your homework. "I loved the runes you included in that drawing, though," The boy added. 

"Yeah?" You couldn't help but smile.

"Absolutely. Most of them were even correct," He shot you a crooked grin. "It was impressive."

You raised a brow. "Can you… read Runic?"

"Mmhm," He hummed, checking off another problem on your homework. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime."

You were about to ask where and when he would have learned something like that, but the question was plucked from your brain before you got the chance.

You drew in a sharp breath as his hand, which had previously rested like a ghost's on your hip, slipped deftly under your shirt. Unsure whether you liked it or not, you couldn't decide as your brain had simply quit functioning properly. All you could seem to register was that Kol was touching you and it wasn't a "just friends" sort of touch. Your cheeks felt like they'd caught fire as you glanced up at him, blinking owlishly, only to find that he was already watching you with an unexpectedly sweet smile. He studied your expression, waiting for you to protest - to say no. 

When you remained silent, that sweet smile twisted into a smirk. Leaning down, you felt a soft, tender kiss to your cheek just as Kol pressed his fingers firmly into your skin, wasting no time before he began to explore. His hand was warm, gentle, and soft as he stroked and petted your stomach. Something warm and jittery built up in your chest. It climbed up your throat, threatening to spill out. You whimpered quietly, unable to hold it back. Yet, that only seemed to encourage him. Kol hummed and slid his hand lower with another kiss to your cheek. What was that boy doing to you? Your whole body burned as he continued to fondle and caress you shamelessly. Shuddering, you bit back a moan and curled yourself closer to him, fisting his jacket as though he could hide you from the world. Kol just smirked and continued going over your homework. 

He didn't let go of you - didn't stop touching you - until the bell rang. Then he just got up, shot you a wink, and left without another word.)

Slowly, that boy earned your trust because, though you didn't know exactly how to define your relationship with him, he was always there for you. It was nice to have someone who knew why you had drawn those pictures. Not because you were self-righteous and judgemental, but because there was something very real and very disturbing going on and you needed a way to purge the constant fear from your mind.

Kol believed you. There was something wrong with this town. You weren't crazy.

But no one else could see that. 

The day a sketch of Sheriff Forbes - Caroline's mother - made its way around the student body was the day you were called to the principal's office. The picture displayed Sheriff Forbes as a creature like the Other Mother from Coraline, dutifully sewing shut the mouths of townspeople and stitching buttons over their eyes. The Sheriff was a kind woman. She didn't deserve to be depicted that way. But at the same time, you knew she was hiding something.

So there you sat on the wrong side of the principal's desk, eyes locked firmly on your lap as the graying woman watched you with a disappointed frown.

"Y/N, this is not acceptable," She said, tight-lipped with tired eyes.

"I know," You mumbled.

"Then why did you draw these pictures in the first place?" The woman demanded. 

You shrugged haplessly. She wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. She'd probably recommend you to a mental health institution. 

The principal sighed. "Y/N, it's not my business what you do in your free time, but this has to stop. You need to stop."

"It's not me!" You protested. "Someone stole my sketchbook."

"Well, then you had better find a way to get it back, and once you do I highly recommend you burn it. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to suspend you," She said, folding her hands atop the desk. "The mayor has also been made aware of these sketches and she asked me to warn you that, should another one of these offensive images appear, you can consider her commission canceled."

Your heart stuttered and sank. 

You wanted to scream and cry and tell the world it was all so unfair but all that came out of your mouth was, "Okay."

The principal nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N."

That was your cue to leave. 

You exited her office and shut the door behind you, letting go of a long sigh. Kol was sitting outside, waiting for you. He was always there for you. Upon seeing your distraught expression, the boy got up and wound his arms around you, holding you close. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and grinding your teeth as you buried your face in his chest. 

Kol pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you alright?” He asked, just as he always did.

You took a deep breath-

(You were fine. You were always fine.)

-and let out a string of cuss words so foul they’d make a sailor blush.

He hissed in sympathy and hugged you tighter. “I take it that’s a no.”

Kol was a good friend. True, his words sometimes carried a sting to them and some of his touches lingered a little too long to be just friendly. But he was good. The two of you had come a long way since you'd first met him. When he pulled away, he probably should have rested his hands on your waist but Kol grabbed you by your hips instead. His hands were very warm and you found yourself blushing. But if you were being honest, you liked the way he was touching you - the way he had been for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, hesitantly watching your face though you refused to meet his eyes.

"No," You answered. 

Kol offered you a strained smile and tugged you back into that tight hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, gently.

Kol had been such a good friend to you. The least you could do was show him some trust.

"I'd rather show you." 

***

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand which Kol reluctantly lifted off her hip. Then, without another word - because she didn’t talk all that much - she led him off down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along, amused (and two other things he was trying really hard to ignore.)

There was this funny feeling he got when he looked at that girl sometimes, with her chalk and paint-stained clothes, messy hair, and tired eyes. It was warm and pleasant and it reminded him of how he felt after a really big feed, except not like that at all. He felt satisfied, content… full, but there was nothing sinister about it. Kol found himself unsure how to label that sensation seeing has he’d so rarely felt it and when he had it was fleeting - gone before he could enjoy it. 

This time, however, when it came, that feeling lingered.

And not because he’d killed anyone recently! Kol Mikaelson had not rubbed out a single soul in that miserable little town. (A surprise to all, certainly.) That odd feeling stayed with him day to day, and he tried to ignore how pleasant it was because surly it would disappear any day now… But it never did. Kol knew it had something to do with his little artist but, honestly, that just confused him further. More baffling still was the notion that, over the past few weeks, he hadn’t found himself craving the high that exacting death always afforded him. Sure, he felt a little… hungry (that didn’t seem like the right term) on the weekends, but then he’d see her in the hallways and he felt content again. It wasn’t the sort of satisfaction he took from any of his games either.

That’s what this whole thing had started as - what it was. (Just that he had to remind himself of that fact was unsettling.) It was just a game. He’d played it hundreds of times before with hundreds of girls like her. It was the game where he came into their lives from out of the blue, stripped away every single thing they cared about - robbed them of their friends, their reputation, their comforts, their dreams - and did that all while making them love him for it. Then, once he got them into his bed, he shattered their illusions right before he killed them.

He was so close to winning this one too. Her friends had all abandoned her, half the town was convinced she was schizophrenic, and her dreams were one little sketchbook page away from being crushed. There was just one problem. 

This time, he didn’t want the game to end.

This time, he felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in his chest (not unlike the point of a dagger) every time she flinched. Every time she switched off her hearing aids, every time she hugged herself and sighed, every time she pursed her lips on the verge of tears - Kol felt something he hadn’t felt in well over nine hundred years. Guilt. Because he was the one spreading that girl’s naughty little pictures through the halls just so she would want him around. 

Kol simply didn’t understand what made her different. She was human. She wasn’t strong or powerful or even witty. The girl was shy, she hardly said a word to anyone but him, and when some kid shouted abuse in her face she just stood there and took it. She was so plain and boring that Kol often found himself wondering why he hadn’t eaten her yet. 

Sometimes though, she surprised him. 

She surprised him when she shoved her way though the front doors in the middle of the school day. Previously, Kol was convinced that girl had never broken a rule in her life.

She surprised him when she cussed like a sailor and didn’t apologize one bit. Was a girl like that even allowed to say those words? Legally?

But most of all, she surprised him when she tugged him along by the hand in the drizzling rain through the backwoods of Virginia, off the hiking trails, and down into a ravine where she only stopped in front of a looming chain-link fence. That fence had a big, red “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

She suprised him when she was always fine. That girl accepted his hugs, his touch, his comfort - but she didn’t need it.

Thus, Kol was well and truly floored when his tiny sweet, delicious little artist dropped his hand and scrambled up and over that fence like a monkey scales a tree. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had absolutely, positively, and without a doubt just broken a law. That couldn’t be right. She was too shy to break the law. This was the same girl that apologized when she broke her bloody pencil.

"You coming or not?" She challenged. And then... Then, she smiled.

The sight of it took Kol's breath away.

That smile. He didn't understand it. Y/N was no witch - he knew that for certain. But somehow there was something magical about that smile.

There were moments - only a handful of them - like the one he was in right then. Those times were so rare but when they occurred, Kol's tiny, sweet, piquant little artist would look back at him, usually over her shoulder, and send him this... this smile. The twist of her lips he'd seen her wear when he'd first met her, the one she passed out to her so-called friends, was a fake he came to realize.

This real one was so much prettier.

Words had so rarely failed him, but there was no language Kol knew that could quite describe just what that smile looked like - what it made him feel or why. That smile of her's was just so real - so deeply heartfelt - that it always made him want to smile back. Her's was never never a silly or obnoxious grin that she gave to him. It was this tiny quirk of her lips that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow a subtle, appetizing pink. Her beauty wasn't like that of the models in those magazines Bekah liked - she wasn't spectacularly eye-catching. That girl's smile didn't light up a room, but it lit a fire in his chest the likes of which he'd never known. It twisted his stomach and Kol felt so hungry every time he got to witness that smile. Except that hunger wasn't the sinister kind he was so familiar with. When she smiled at him, he didn't want to hurt that girl.

He just wanted to pin her against a tree and kiss those beautifully curled lips until the taste of his extraordinary artist was seared into his infallible mind for all eternity.

It wasn't just lust either. It was more than that. Kol didn't want her just because she had a pretty smile. He needed her because that smile only appeared for him - no one else. Kol could make that girl smile and it had nothing to do with his physical appearance. His little artist's smile was reserved just for him simply because he was there to see it. She smiled because he existed and that idea was one he couldn't help but revel in. After all, when was the last time he got something all to himself without having to fight tooth and nail for it?

“Say, love, are we getting close to the bridge?” He wondered. It was the bridge or the falls, but he couldn’t be sure. Y/N didn’t reply. Her lovely, perfect, scrumptious little laugh was all he got in response. After a few more minutes of walking in silence - which he found he liked better than all the other girls he’d ever played with who always felt a need to fill the gap with meaningless prattle - they reached their destination.

So, Kol grinned. That was his real smile too. Only she could bring it out. "Of couse, darling."

He jumped and scaled the fence with the same ease as his quiet companion who took off again as soon as his feet hit the ground. It wasn't long before his enhanced hearing caught the sound of water rushing nearby.

Once free of the tree line, Kol glimpsed the dreary silhouette of Wickery Bridge breaking through the haze of rain and gloom. His little artist glanced back at him with something wild and ferocious gleaming in her eyes. For a moment, he was taken aback by the sight. But that moment was swiftly overtaken by sheer, lucidious excitement. He returned her smile and she bounded off down toward the water. He followed, enraptured and curious as she came to a stop underneath the bridge. 

“Alright, my sweet, I think I’ve let you go on long enough,” He said upon catching up with her, not that doing so was any struggle. “What’s so important that you brought me all the way out here?” 

The girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she began climbing up the mess of rocks and driftwood that had collected on the banks of the river, making her way up to the crevice where the bridge split from the shoreline. As she did, her hand slipped on one of the rocks and she spat out another string of cuss words that would peel the scales off a snake. Normally, Kol would have been impressed; however, he was a little too busy focusing on the minuscule part of him that didn’t want to rip out her throat. 

She’d cut her hand on those rocks and it wasn’t just a little scrape, like the ones he’d grown accustomed to. This was a long, jagged slit across her palm and her all-too-tempting blood was spilling down her arm in beautiful crimson rivers. 

And terrible, awful, horrid reality came crashing back in on him.

For a while there, Kol had almost forgotten the two of them weren’t the same. Somehow he’d felt full enough - full of something, full of her - for long enough that he’d forgotten he wasn’t who and what he was pretending to be. He’d forgotten about what he was doing and why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing with her. He’d forgotten that he was the predator and she was the prey. 

He was there solely to charm her into surrendering her blood and her body. That was it.

THAT. WAS. IT.

Kol hurt people. That was what he did. He screwed up, and he hurt people, and he laughed about it.

So why did the thought of sinking his teeth into that artist’s pretty little neck seem to tear his lungs to shreds? No - not his lungs - that thing between them. That thing he ignored. That thing he didn’t have. Most people call it a heart.

What was that about? Kol was a monster. He hadn’t felt anything in years, aside from rage, hunger, and the occasional apathy. One thousand years of never giving a damn about the value of human life. And now what? His heart suddenly decided to garner affection for one lonely, miserable, pathetic, perfect, baffling, innocent, gorgeous, plush, soft, disillusioned little artist? Now?

Why now? Why her?

(It had been so long. And he’d had no one.)

She was the only one who ever smiled just for him. The only one who ever trusted him enough to let him see how terrified she truly was. She was scared, so scared all the time that something would spring from the shadows that lurked around every corner to snuff out her soul. She should be, he knew. She was right to be scared. Because Kol was right next to her and he was the only person not in her sketchbook. Sure, she’d never had the chance to put him in there but he’d asked her once what he would look like if she were to draw him like she did everyone else, and his tantalizing little artist had told him she didn’t see Kol that way - that he was her friend. She didn’t know it, and he didn’t want her to know it, but she should be scared of him. 

Kol wanted to kill her - needed to kill her. He craved so desperately to ravish that appetizing girl right where they stood. Bloody hell, she should be terrified! 

Yet, he didn’t want to scare her - didn’t mean to. He was just hungry - that was all. No one was around. No one could stop him. She didn’t need to be afraid. He could make her feel good. She might like it. Kol was just hungry - he didn’t want to hurt her. One taste wouldn’t hurt her so bad, would it? She would forgive him. One bite would be enough and then he’d stop. Except he wouldn’t and Kol knew that. He would drain every last drop of scarlet from her body and he knew she would be the most exhilarating high he’d ever get. But he didn’t have to feel bad about it. He could dump her body in the river and he’d never see her again. 

Oh.

That was it.

He’d never see her again.

No. No, he wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to listen to all of her secrets and wanted that girl to let him touch her for real. No. No, no, no, nonononononononononono.

And all this ran through his head before his artist had even finished cussing. 

Y/N waved her hand in the air, displaying her cut. “God hates me!” She called down to him cheerfully. That sunny demeanor that had once annoyed him so now brought him a laugh.

“That’s on you, darling. Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that you’re trying to achieve, I might be able to assist,” He pointed out, still chuckling to himself. The girl shrugged and reached into the crevice, feeling around for something. “If you get bit by a snake, I’m going to laugh,” Kol mused. She twisted her other hand around and flipped him the bird. After another moment of watching her grope around in a dark hole, his little artist let out an exclamation of success and retrieved her arm which was now attached to a large, black duffle bag. Carefully, she climbed down and tossed the bag on the ground. 

“Ta da!” She grinned at him. It was an odd expression - like her face didn’t quite know how to express her current joy to another being.

Kol raised a brow. “Wow,” He deadpanned. “Color me impressed.” 

Her smile didn’t falter.

“The council just finished renovating this bridge,” She said as though that explained everything.

“And?”

Instead of answering, she simply bent down and unzipped the bag at her feet. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Kol forced himself to turn away from admiring the exquisite view of her cleavage this action presented him. He wanted her, yes. Kol delighted in reducing his little artist into a blushing puddle when he touched her. But if he was going to have that girl, he was going to have her everything. Her smile, her heart, her mind, her body, and her respect. Everything. Not just empty lust.

From out of the bag, Y/N drew a pair of gloves, a mask, and two cans of what Kol now recognized to be spray paint. Then, donning the gloves and mask, she marched down to the concrete trusses of Wickery Bridge and got to work. The giant concrete slabs were practically one perfectly untouched canvas for her to exploit.

Suddenly, all those strange behaviors made a whole lot of sense.

“Bloody hell, the girl’s a vandal!” Kol barked a laugh. "I wondered what it was you were so desperate to keep me away from,” He said, shaking his head. “I had my suspicions but this… was not one of them.”

“Oh really,” His artist scoffed. She started out her mural with layers of red. “And what were those suspicions?”

“Abusive parents was number one,” He listed, stretching out casually on the ground, back against a rock. Not the most uncomfortable position he’d ever held. “Self-harm was number two, and number three was a sordid drug habit.”

“Do I really come off that pathetic?” She wondered blithely. 

“Most of the time, yeah.”  

The girl snorted. “Good for me!”

“That desperate to hide your little crimes, are you?” He chuckled.

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Well, mostly-” She paused to switch colors, going with black now. “-because if Mayor Lockwood ever found out I was the one painting her little town red, I’d lose my commission to paint town square and uh… I like money.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I sense an “and” coming.”

“And,” She continued with a slight laugh. “I might have possibly tagged a few properties worth a lot more than a bridge.” She hesitated. “Or a town… or a castle.”

That last remark was enough to have Kol sitting up straight. “So you were the miscreant who wrote out “Blood Money” on the side of my house!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. It was impressive as no one in his family had heard anyone approach the house that night, yet the message had been there in bright red the next morning. How had she pulled that off?

The girl froze in her painting. “That was your house?”

“Indeed it was.”

“Whoops.”

Kol waved a hand. “Eh. No harm done.” 

“So… not a mafia base then?” 

He wished she was wrong. Kol really wished he wasn’t everything that terrified his precious artist. But he was. And that wouldn’t change.

So he laughed.

“Well, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” He joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. But he could let her think it was. He could pretend he believed that too. He could pretend he was just a normal kid, enjoying the company of a beautiful girl. He could pretend that.

She threw her head back and laughed. 

What a beautiful thing.

“Okay! I’m done talking now!” She announced without providing any segue whatsoever. He liked that about her though, that she was blunt and direct. It amused him. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He protested. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. Just being around that girl was enough to sate his hunger for her. That's what his little game had turned into. 

She shrugged and flipped her hearing aids off, so he supposed that was the end of it. 

“You know, I’m actually a vampire,” He told her. Kol knew she couldn’t hear him and his words fell on deaf ears. He figured he should tell her the truth though. Even if it was only this once. At least then he could say he had. 

“I’ve murdered hundreds of thousands of people - plenty of them for no reason at all. As for you…

“Well, I’ll probably kill you one day. Hell, I almost did just now. I’m not all that great at self-control, you see.” He let go of a bitter laugh and scooped a pebble off the ground, laying back he tossed it over his head and caught it again and again. “But I’m really great at screwing things up!”

“I stole your sketchbook,” He admitted, a little quieter. “It was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but it’s not fun anymore. I-I don’t like to see you hurting. I could stop. That bloody school would never see another picture.” 

He lifted his head, watching her back as she continued painting. 

“But would you still love me if I did?” Kol sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would. You don’t need me.”

This time, when he tossed the rock, he didn’t catch it. The stone flew and landed in the river, lost to the moving water.

“Nobody does.”

He was glad she couldn’t hear him. He could talk to her and she would never know. Blissfully ignorant, he could watch with a lazy smile as she swung her hips and just kept on painting, without a care in the world. His horribly lovely artist sang quietly to herself as the light of the setting sun bounded off the water and carded through her hair, casting an ephemeral glow all around her. He wondered if her quiet verse might be meant for him. He knew that wasn’t the case. For someone so observant and suspicious, she could be quite blind. He doubted she could be in love with him or that she understood how he felt for her. But like with the rest of this bittersweet scene, Kol could pretend. 

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together

Brighter than a lucky penny

When you're near the rain goes, disappears, dear

And I feel so fine

Just to know that you are mine…”

***

Robert Frost had been right, you decided the day your world fell apart. You would have preferred your world had been destroyed in one giant, raging fire. Of course, you didn't get to choose. Your world froze over slowly. The cold strangled your opportunities and relationships one by one until you were left entirely alone.

You stood in front of your locker that day, staring at the final nail in the coffin of your reputation and future. This was how it was to end. In ice. You felt like ice as you stared at that final drawing - cold and despondent. 

That sketch was of Alaric Saltzman, your kindhearted history teacher who believed in infinite chances for a student's grades. He always wore a pained smile - it was a smile for everyone else because he was still hurting but wanted the kids he taught to look forward to the rest of their lives as he no longer did.

You had drawn him differently.

No smile. Just the pain. Pain that had morphed into bitterness and bitterness into hate. He was sitting in his desk chair, facing towards the door - toward the viewer - with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a gun in the other. Smoke rose from the barrel of that gun, and the viewer's perception was tinted red.

You had drawn your history teacher murdering you in cold blood. 

Who does that?

"So…" The silky lilt of Kol's gentle accent tugged you from your thoughts and brought just a little relief. Even if you had nothing, you had Kol. "Do I want to know what inspired this one? Or would I rather sleep tonight?"

You shrugged, apathetic. The weight of the moment yet to sink in.

"I saw a gun in his desk," You answered tonelessly. 

"No shit?"

"Uh, huh." You nodded. "Right next to the colored pencils."

The boy whistled. "I'm regretting some of the things I put in my essay now," He said. 

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "As if you did it."

"Ouch, darling. That hurts." He chuckled lightly and you felt his arms encircle your waist from behind. He tugged you close, resting his head on your shoulder. "You don't know everything about me."

He was trying to joke, for your sake. But nothing could make this better.

"What do I do now?" You asked with a sigh. Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek - light as a feather. For whatever reason, it felt like an apology.

"Well, if I were you," He said. "I'd go out with a bang."

You nodded and shrugged - indifferent. "A bang sounds good."

Kol released you as you slipped your backpack off your shoulders. Eyeing you with a mix of confusion and anticipation, your best friend's eyes flew wide as he watched you wander over to the nearest window, arms reeling back. 

With all your might, you flung your back through the window.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The raucous hallway fell silent and a few dozen pairs of eyes locked on you.

"One of you bastards stole my sketchbook," You told them, not bothering to raise your voice in the slightest. "Is that what you wanted? To see me fall apart?"

No one answered of course as you glanced between stunned expressions.

"Well, I hope you're happy now," You rasped. Shoving a few kids out of your way with the harshness that had been building inside you for months now, you left that school behind you and didn't look back.

The only sound to be heard was Kol's low whistle as the heavy steel doors swung shut. The tears streaming down your face were silent.

You sprinted home through the driving rain, the sky dark and close, almost like a blanket. Perhaps the whole world was crying with you. After all, it always seemed to rain when you were sad.

To your relief, your parents were still at work. You had the comfort of crying in peace. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, slid to the floor… and screamed.

This was your life and it was crumbling in your hands. What else were you supposed to do?

A light knock tapped against the door. So quiet you wouldn't have heard it if the vibrations weren't centered right next to your ear. 

"Y/N?" Kol's voice called from the other side of the wood. You didn't say anything, though your ragged breathing was far from quiet. "Y/N, I know you're in there. I can hear you crying." He laid his hand flat. You could hear that ring he always wore scraping against the wooden surface. "Please let me in?"

You shook your head. "I'm not some charity case," You choked out, throat raw.

"Perhaps to someone else you are," Kol said. He must have been kneeling on your front porch. "But not me. I don't have charity, darling. I'm rather selfish actually."

You huffed a laugh. It was humorless.

"Then why come?"

"Because I'm selfish," He replied. Then quieter. "I don't like to see you cry." His ring tapped against the door a few times. "Darling, please let me in? I want to help."

Your teeth clenched like a vice.

"I don't need you."

For years you'd longed to say those words. Finally, in this haze of fury and anguish, they weren't so hard to speak.

"I know." He sighed. "I know you don't, darling. It's part of why I like you so much."

Well as long as he understood, perhaps it was alright 

You scraped yourself off the floor and opened the door. Kol stood outside, drenched to the bone, same as you. His eyes weren't dead anymore - not the distant black holes they'd once been. No, his eyes were warm chocolate now, melting with something sad. He really did care.

"Come in," You signed, too worn out to speak. 

Kol's brows furrowed. He seemed worried for a moment, though you couldn't guess why. Then he took a tentative step through the door, smiled, and stepped closer, closing the door behind him. 

You watched him take his shoes and coat off through the dim light. Your house was dark. You hadn't bothered with any lights. Once he'd finished, Kol glanced up at you questioningly. You regarded him for a moment. After all, these sorts of situations never seemed to turn out well in the books you'd read and the shows you'd watched. The characters in those stories always seemed to end up doing something they'd regret.

Or maybe they didn't regret it. 

You thought you would though. 

So, contrary to what Kol was likely expecting, you didn't throw yourself into his arms. You just turned and shuffled into the kitchen. You finally switched on some lights. After a moment, he followed you, watching intently. Milling about in science, you collected the supplies required to make the two of you a cup of tea. Your quiet nature combined with your parent's distrust of humanity meant you'd never really had a friend like Kol before - someone you brought to your house and shared food with.

"You hungry?" You asked, waiting for the water to boil. Your hands shook a little, but you didn't feel like speaking. He leaned against the counter opposite you and offered a thin smile you felt you didn't quite understand.

"I'll be okay," He signed back after a moment. He took a deep breath. "I'm more worried about you."

You grimaced involuntarily, eyes shifting to the kettle on the stove. Inside, the pressure would be building until it all rushed out.

"I'm not broken, Kol," You whispered, voice hoarse and thick with more emotion than you'd ever known how to say.

"I know that-" He began, lifting his hands defensively.

"Then why do you look at me like I am?"

Kol's lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. You'd caught onto his ways a long time ago. That boy had been eyeing you like no one you'd ever known since you'd first met him. The only difference was now you were brave enough to call him out on it. So what if he saw you for who you really were? He'd seen enough of it by now. You were sick of hiding anyway.

Kol sighed and pushed off the counter. He made his way toward you with soft eyes and tentative steps until he stood just inches away, boxing you in. You met his dark chocolate eyes and refused to back down even though you knew your cheeks were stained pink. You'd never let anyone this close before.

Pursing his lips, the boy glanced down at the space between you and lifted his hand. He trailed his knuckles hesitantly over your side, then met your eyes again as if to ask permission. You swallowed thickly, but didn't tell him no. With a ghost of a smile, Kol laid his hands on your hips and squeezed firmly. You couldn’t withhold a shudder. His thumbs slipped under your shirt and rubbed your skin softly as he'd done for you a few times before, knowing how much you liked it. His hands seemed to fit perfectly over your hips as though he'd been made to hold you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into his touch, letting go of a sigh. His searing hands felt nice when the whole world felt so cold. You needed him closer. 

Reaching up, you fisted the collar of his shirt rather harshly and dragged him toward you, pressing your whole body against his. He flinched slightly, surprised by your newfound eagerness, but he quickly reciprocated. Kol chuckled softly and you felt his lips graze your temple before he clinched your hips tighter and lifted you to sit atop the counter. Your heart stuttered and raced in your chest and you gasped sharply, drawing back enough to catch the smirk dancing on his lips. Your cheeks reddened further as he urged you to spread your legs so he could stand between them. His arms circled around your back and you hesitated.

So what if he was a senior? So what if you were a couple of months younger than he was? He'd been a good friend to you. 

Shaking your doubts away, you wrapped your legs around him and rested your head on his chest. Kol hummed quietly and pressed another soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

"I know you're not broken, darling," He said. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging a blazing heat into your bones. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is that you really are."

Your hands on his shirt clenched tighter.

"I'm angry,” You admitted. 

“Why?”

His question prompted your lips to twist into a scowl as a hysterical laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Really? You’re asking me why?” You huffed, shaking your head. “How ‘bout why not? I’m sick of it, Kol. All of it. The lies, the expectations - nothing is right in this town and I hate it! I’m seventeen! I should get to feel safe but I see people and they’re dropping like flies. And you’d think I’d at least get the luxury of being terrified, but no! I have to act like nothing is wrong!” You looked up at him, tears returning to sting your eyes. “I tried to. I really did. But it was too much and I couldn’t and I had to put it all somewhere. Now some idiot who thinks they’re funny just up and ruined my whole future. I’ll never get a job here now, not like it matters because mom and dad are shipping me off to some mental institution-”

“What?!” Kol cut your rambling off suddenly. Reeling back, he stared at you with wide eyes. You just shrugged. “Your parents are sending you away over this?” He demanded.

You raised a brow. “Kol, this is kind of a big thing.”

“How?!” He exclaimed. His grip on your hips tightened. He seemed agitated - more than you would expect. “You drew some creepy pictures. So what?! Who cares?!”

“A lot of people care,” You deadpanned. “I drew the likeness of people around me without their consent. That's a big no-no. My parents are worried I’m overstressed, narcissistic, and paranoid. They say I need help.”

“No, that’s not-” He cut himself off this time, teeth grinding. He wouldn’t look at you, just squeezed his eyes shut tight. You waited for him to gather his thoughts. 

“They can’t take you away from me.” 

Finally, he looked up. Smoldering black eyes met your own with a determination that couldn’t possibly have belonged to an eighteen year old boy. It was etherial - hard to capture and even harder to understand. His eyes seemed darker all of a sudden. An odd trick of the light. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” You said quietly. “But unless you’ve got some hard-core magic up your sleeve, it’s not gonna change anything.”

Kol nodded stiffly. “Magic, eh?” His voice was dry - strained almost. He let go of you and took a step back, bracing his hands on the counter. The breaths he drew were long and deep - shaking. His eyes flicked back to yours, blazing with something needy. He cursed. 

“Screw it.”

The boy surged forward and his lips caught yours before you could even blink. His arms wound around you again and held you tight and close. One hand wove itself into your hair, tugging on the strands greedily. You couldn’t seem to focus enough to keep your eyes open, they fluttered closed as Kol pressed closer to you. You weren’t sure what to do or how to react, so you just tentatively kissed him back.

Kol flinched. Actually flinched, like he hadn’t expected his affection to be returned.

He pulled away, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. 

Had you done the right thing? Would you regret this tomorrow? Would he?

“Kol, wha-”

His lips on yours shut your doubts up pretty quickly. 

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” That boy whispered into your mouth. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m going to fix everything, darling. I promise.”

He left you no time to think. He just pressed you closer - as close as he possibly could and you felt warm. Warm and safe and wanted. His fervent kisses grew increasingly heated and desperate by the second. It was like you were in a haze, possessed almost. There was a sweetness and hunger to him that you were entirely unaccustomed to. Holding the back of your head with a gentle hand, Kol was tender and patient yet determined as he licked at the seam of your mouth. You gasped, flinching as you felt his arm around your waist constrict almost painfully. Seizing the opportunity, Kol swiftly deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He wasn’t harsh or forceful about it. You just weren’t sure. A tiny whimper escaped your throat but he just swallowed it eagerly. Did you really want this? Were you ready? 

You felt suffocated, trapped, and unable to breathe. You pulled back, trembling. But Kol wouldn’t let you go. He broke away, shaking his head.

“No, no. Darling, shhhhhh.” He combed your hair back with his fingers. It was comforting. “You’re alright. I’m not doing anything.”

“Kol, please-”

“No, you’re fine. Everything is going to be alright. Just trust me,” He promised. The boy smiled and settled his lips on yours again. You didn’t fight him. All you could seem to do was shudder as he captured your lower lip and bit down. On his shirt, your hands relaxed. It was almost as if he’d drugged you. Something about that was disturbing, yet you clenched your thighs around him nonetheless.

“See?” Kol flashed you a soft grin as he broke away this time, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay, love. This isn’t me hurting you.”

Then what was?

Kol’s hands slid beneath your shirt and they were so warm as he ran them over your waist and higher onto your ribcage. You had half a mind to let him do anything he wanted, but something wasn’t right. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks at terminal velocity. 

On the stovetop, the tea kettle screamed a warning.

Magic was your first clue. That and he’d said he’d fix things. 

What if he already had?

You stilled. All the warmth in his touch faded in an instant and you let go of him. You didn’t cry out or shove him back. You just quit moving.

Kol’s mouth slowed soon enough. He pulled his hands away and stepped back. The boy eyed you for a moment, but you wouldn’t look at him. Then he cursed. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.” Throwing his head back, he scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was a disgusting thing to do. Please forgive me?”

You didn’t. You just drew your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball. The tears came back. Your ribcage shook with your pained breaths. 

“Y/N?” His voice was faint and far away. “Y/N, please look at me?”

You hardly heard the words that left his lips. You were too busy processing his greater sin.

The declaration came out as hardly a whisper. 

“It was you.”

Kol blinked. Then he frowned. 

“Darling… what are you talking about?”

You shook your head. Tears streamed down your face.

“Why?” You seethed. “Why would you do it?!”

He took a step back, seeming hurt. “Sweetheart… I’m sorry but you’re not making any sense.”

You weren’t going to play that game. Wordlessly, you hopped off the counter and strode over to the kitchen doorway. Kol had dropped his backpack there. You tore it open and rummaged around until you found it. A little book covered in black Sharpie. 

“How many high school students do you think know Nordic Runes?” You challenged softly.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Probably quite a few. I suspect it’s a relatively common niche interest.”

You hummed. “Let me rephrase then: How many high school students in Mystic Falls do you think are fluent enough in runic languages to correct it when they see a mistranslation?” You whipped around, displaying your oh-so-precious stolen sketchbook in your hands.

The color drained from Kol’s face.

“Darling… I can explain that,” He tried, voice raw - desperate for you to believe him. You wouldn’t. 

You offered him a smile. That same fake, hateful smile you offered to all the people in this town who lied to you. 

“Leave.”

Kol looked as though he’d been shot. 

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

You shook your head. 

“I won’t say it twice,” You spat. Then, switching off your hearing aids, you turned away and started for the stairs. “You know where the door is,” You called over your shoulder, half growling the words. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out… bastard.”

Upstairs in your room, you locked the door and cried. This time you didn’t make a sound.

***

Kol had screwed up. Royally. 

In fact, he was convinced that this was even worse than that time he’d accidentally played god on the continent now known as Australia. (Mammals shouldn’t lay eggs and none would if not for his hubris and an escaped lab rat. Or in this case, a lab platypus.) However, this time, Kol couldn’t just run away. Of course, there was mother dearest’s spell to consider but, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him from leaving that girl and her stupid precious tears behind. For whatever reason, he couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew this for a fact because he’d had all night to think about it.

Her face, sparkling with fresh tears, was an image burned into his memory. Kol couldn’t seem to forget the tremble in her voice as she’d pulled that bloody sketchbook out of his bag. He could still hear her crying on the other side of her bedroom door. No matter how long he’d begged her to let him in, that door had remained locked. 

This wasn’t how things were meant to go - not when he’d been so close. He couldn’t stand it. 

She’d almost been his. Kol had finally held his sweet little artist in his arms and nothing, nothing - no drug nor blood-induced high he’d ever experienced - could ever compare to finally getting to touch her. He could have had more. He could have won his prize - could have kept her forever.

But he’d screwed up. Now, she loathed him.

He could stand losing a game every now and again. That was what kept things fun. But this wasn’t a game anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t lose. Kol refused to lose.

Luckily, his delicious little artist was very, very human. 

He would go to her one more time, he resolved, to try to explain things. Truthfully, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done, but that couldn’t change the facts. Kol needed her. He wouldn’t give her up just because he’d been dumb enough to let her snatch that sketchbook from his satchel. It wasn’t her fault. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. But luckily, his steel-spined artist was human. Luckily, Kol could erase his little mistake. 

Perhaps he could grab a quick bite from her too before he wiped her memory. A little taste might aid his patience for her - he didn’t fancy slipping up again like he had the night before. If he hurt her without realizing what he was doing, Kol knew he would kill his little artist far too soon.

He’d made his decision. The only thing that gave him pause was the wrinkled sheet of paper Bekah found that morning. 

“Kol?” Her voice rang through their brother’s mansion carrying confusion and worry. “I think you might want to see this…”

He’d been at her side in a split second, snatching the paper from her hands. It was a drawing, and Kol recognized its style of it instantly. Her lines were intimately familiar to him now, even as harsh and erratic as they were in the sketch he held. 

His beloved artist had finally drawn him. 

The twisted image was startlingly and horrifically accurate. Something clenched in his chest at the sight. She’d drawn his countenance pale, his hair was a wild mess and his eyes were black, empty holes. A vicious snarl warped his lips, accompanying razor-sharp fangs that looked all too real. In the picture, he knelt in the driving rain, cradling a limp corpse. His lips were coated in thick, crimson blood. Enamored as he was with his nightmarish likeness, Kol’s eyes were drawn to the most lifeless part of the image. He would have recognized those paint-stained clothes anywhere.

Now, Kol had added little notes to the drawings he’d stolen from his sweet artist’s sketchbook. This time, she had included her own. 

The harsh, hate-filled words read: “Vampire - a creature that feeds off the misery of others.”

At the bottom of the page, his artist had left him one more note.

“I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebekah, peering over his shoulder now, whistled lowly. 

“That’s not Nik’s work,” She noted.

“No.” His voice came out sharp, clipped. “No, its not.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Kol shrugged and tucked the drawing in his pocket. “No one important,” He lied. 

Shortly after that, he arrived beneath the trusses of Wickery Bridge. He knew where that girl would be - knew his artist couldn’t leave a piece unfinished. If she noticed him coming from a far ways off, she gave no inclination. Kol, however, noticed quite a few things. The tremor in her hands as she moved a can of paint back and forth in front of her. A used sleeping bag laid out among the rocks. A banana peel displaying the only proof she’d eaten any sort of meager breakfast. He noticed. He always noticed. 

His feet crunched on the gravel as he approached but he doubted the girl heard it - more than likely she had her hearing aids powered off. He could see the appeal in it. After all, it got quite loud in his head sometimes. Turning off the sounds of the world might be nice, but such was not his curse. 

Kol wound his arms around her waist from behind and leaned down. Her skin was so smooth and perfect, it was hard to resist simply biting down and taking her all to himself, but instead of piercing her throat he opted to kiss her a few times, gently. He knew how she would react by now. Y/N wouldn’t fight or squirm, she wouldn’t even scream. 

She just relaxed. 

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. 

A spitfire when angered, she could be quite impressive; however, when confronted she would always resort to that last option.

He could scent her fresh tears as they slipped down her face, while in his arms her body shuddered, though not quite the way he would prefer. Only one word could seem to manifest through her pain. 

"Why?" She didn't say it out loud, just signed it. Kol held her tighter, shrugging.

"Because I'm an attention whore," He answered simply. It was the truth too. "And I don't know when to stop."

He would always need that artist more than she needed him. From the first moment he'd met her, that was how their story had gone.

If it was even possible, that girl melted further into his embrace. Her head rested against his collarbone and she sighed.

"So you think I'm crazy too, huh?" She smiled and it was a miserable thing.

"I never thought you were crazy, love," He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just didn't care for a while at first."

"What changed?" She wondered, brows furrowing.

"You smiled at me."

The girl barked a laugh. "Oh, well that's nice." She rolled her eyes.

Kol pulled her closer to him, as though he could make her feel the emotions he couldn't explain. "Don't believe me?"

"Nope." And she never minced words.

"It does sound rather cliche, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" She scoffed. Her chest still shook with sobs she tried to suppress. He twisted her body around to pull her into a proper hug. Again, she didn't resist. She'd completely given up. 

Kol didn't like this hopeless, hysterical version of the strong, dagger-sharp artist he'd come to adore. He'd seen this sort of apathy before and typically it bored him. In her, it only seemed to hurt. It impressed him to hold her close until she finally understood that he was bloody sorry!

"Can you ever forgive me?" Kol found himself asking. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember another time he'd wondered such a thing. 

Y/N snorted humorlessly. 

"Maybe in a million years," She replied sourly. "Or maybe when the nut-house straightens me out - whichever comes last."

Those words stung like poison. It had been so, so long since he'd made a mistake he couldn't fix with a snap of his fingers. Accountability was a nasty, uncomfortable thing. 

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Kol that he could always compel his pretty little artist. But… he'd rather hoped her affection for him might be real. He didn't want to ruin that just yet.

Kol groaned quietly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, fixing his lips over that girl's pulse again. The effect was somewhat calming despite making his fangs ache like nothing else. 

"I care about you, darling," He mumbled into her skin. 

"And I trusted you."

He understood. That girl didn't trust anyone. Now he was just another reason why.

A police siren flared to life in the distance, drawing closer. The artist in his arms chuckled dryly.

"Sounds like my ride's here," She observed, void of all life or emotion. The wheels of a police cruiser pulled to a stop not far off. She'd be caught in the act and Kol happened to know the police force had been set on vervain. 

"I won't let them take you," He swore, tightening his grip on his little artist. A car door slammed shut. Footsteps began approaching.

"And what are you gonna-"

Kol picked her up and ran. Consequences be damned. That girl was his. 

He stopped on the pretentious front porch of his brother's mansion and allowed her to absorb her new surroundings. She trembled in his arms, eyes round as saucers as she glanced around.

Her eyes met his and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Kol?" Her voice was thick with dread. "What… just-"

"You're okay," He assured her in lieu of an answer. He spoke calmingly, but she wouldn’t allow him to step any nearer. "You're safe now."

"No." Her voice was bold and firm. She held out a hand, increasing the space between them. “Tha-that wasn’t right. We-we-we were, uh… We were there… a-and now we’re here. What happened? Tell me. Tell me what you did!”

“Relax darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” He lied. The boy smiled disarmingly, voice a honeyed guise - it had worked before, back before she’d trusted him. “It’s just me.”

“No… No, y-you’re not-” She bit her lip and retreated further, blinking rapidly. 

He took another step closer, shushing her disoriented protests. “You’re alright, love. It’s. Just. Me.”

“NO!” The girl cried out with a tone forged from steel, but Kol watched as her resolve warped and cracked. He could see it rise to the surface - that all-consuming fear in his delectable little artist that he so relished and despised. “No… Kol, stop. Please.” Her sweet melody of a voice came out as a hoarse whisper now. “Y-you were my friend, and… I-I still want you, I do. But you need to stop. You’re not supposed to be like everyone else. Stop lying.”

Kol sighed heavily. His artist had been betrayed, time and time again. He couldn’t be like the rest of this godforsaken town - not if he wanted her. Yet… If he told her the truth - if he revealed himself to be everything that terrified her so - how would she possibly stand his presence?

“Do you truly wish to know?” He asked, unable to meet her gorgeous, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I have to,” She whispered, almost to herself. “I’m not crazy. I-I didn't just imagine that!"

“You’re right.” He nodded and offered her a slight, halfhearted smirk. "You see too much for your own good, sweet thing. But please remember, you asked to be shown this part."

Kol thought about her - about his gorgeous, perfect artist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent. He focused on her heartbeat - wet and strong - let it lull him. He pictured that adorable, appetizing blush that always spread across her cheeks when he touched her. Kol allowed himself to imagine just how sweet, how lush, how devastatingly succulent that girl would taste just beneath her soft, warm human skin.

Then, welcoming that corrupt temptation, surrendering to it, he opened his eyes. 

His little artist screamed.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @dreamingwithrafe @her-violent-delights @witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe @acixsracix Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[nobodyfamousposts]

To be fair, Adrien's 'apology' effectively amounted to Marinette comforting and reassuring HIM that oh, he's just such a *good person* that he couldn't see how bad and nasty and evil Lila was. Claiming that he was just too PURE and simply couldn't comprehend what kind of person he was dealing with. So I question how much it really 'validated Marinette's feelings' versus patting him on the back and coddling him YET AGAIN, with a hefty dose of "It's not HIS FAULT he's so sheltered and trusting!'

You're not wrong.

Sadly, honestly at this point, the bar is so low for Adrien and the writing around him that it seemed impossible that he would ever say the words "I'm sorry" in any truly meaningful way.

So a lot of us are just happy that he at any point acknowledged being wrong at all and apologized for it. That was all we wanted. That was all we've BEEN wanting. So much so that we're willing to give leeway for the sheer fact that he says it.

Unfortunately, this apology comes a good while too late to really matter and it's further invalidated by having the victim reassure him and make him feel better by framing his justification as being too nice.

The thing is, Adrien's words and apology DID validate Marinette. The problem is that the writers can't let Adrien be at fault for anything and of course make it Marinette's job to make him feel better, so they have the victim try to reassure HIM and thus undercut the validation that she deserved and the fandom was long wanting.

...then there are a couple other things to consider here:

For all that they're trying to twist his mistake into a sign of how wonderful he is, the problem is that Adrien's issue here wasn't that he was "too nice" but that he was passive. He actively prioritized the feelings of a liar and manipulator like Lila over the wellbeing of his friends.

This is evident in the other problem in that Adrien is apologizing for what he said to Marinette and NOT the fact that he hadn't acted himself in the matter. This is indicating that he had no problems with Lila lying until it bothered him and it only bothers him NOW because he's in love with Marinette and they're dating.

The OTHER problem is that Adrien is LYING.

Adrien: I shouldn't have told you to wait to act against Lila.

Stop.

Review that.

Do you see the problem here?

Because while I don't know about the French version of this scene or the scene in Chameleon, there's a major discrepancy here in the English version:

He never told Marinette to wait to act.

Adrien: Are you going to tell everyone? Marinette: 'Course I am. Lila is— Adrien: (interrupting) A liar. Yes, I know. But do you really think exposing her will make things better? If you humiliate her, she'll just be hurt more. Making a bad guy suffer has never turned them into a good guy. Lila: Ladybug and I are like two peas in a pod. Marinette: So we just stand by and let her lie? Adrien: As long as you and I both know the truth, does it really matter? Marinette: You're right, maybe it's not such a big deal.

It's been a common argument from Adrien defenders that this is the approach Adrien was taking. So in a way, it makes sense for that to be the angle the writers try to use since the fandom practically handed the excuse to them.

But at NO point in this discussion did Adrien say to take a wait and see approach. At no point does he imply that they would or even should act against Lila at a later time. At no point does he even express a belief that Lila's lies will be revealed. Because at NO point in any of his lines did he express genuine concern for anyone but Lila.

What he DID do was invalidate Marinette's feelings and dismiss her very valid concerns.

And yet his apology wasn't for that.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Codename: Midnight

Summary: A series of unfortunate events has Cody in a tight spot. Luckily there’s someone there willing to step in. 

Or, how Midnight and Cody met and saved each other's lives. 

Pairing: None in this one. 

Warnings: Lots of descriptions of life in the underbelly of Coruscant, language, mentions of gangs and violence, a brief (badly written) fight scene, mention of drugs, lots of Senate bashing.

A/N: Did I sit down and write this in 3 hours? Yeah. I don’t know where that came from, but I guess enjoy! This takes place before the entire series, more of a prologue than anything. Shows how Cody and Midnight met and how she came to join the GAR and our boys.

Next > | MASTERLIST

Her knuckles are sore. Out of everything that could hurt, she’s lucky it’s just her hands. Another night, another fight. Another round of meager pay outs to add to the too-light pouch she kept on her person at all times. 

For a winner, she sure does feel like a loser. 

She debates stopping to get something to eat, but a quick press of her hand against the small bump of her pocket changes her mind. She’s sure she can scrounge up something in the kitchen of the communal living house. They got the days-old leftovers and bits of food even the unfortunate in the absolute ass of Coruscant don’t want from the restaurant below the house. 

Just cut off the bad parts. 

That’s what her mother had taught her. Cut off the bad parts and it’s almost like new. 

Midnight sighs, wiping a hand across her brow. She winces as she hits the tender spot on the side of her face. It’s muggy tonight, in the underbelly of the ecumenopolis. It’ll be raining by morning, she thinks, looking up into the air. The lights disappear into a haze of clouds formed from the air compressed down from the upper levels. 

She shoves her hands into her pockets, continuing on. The bar wasn’t far from her home, but far enough to keep her on edge. Most of the inhabitants of this area didn’t mess with her. They’d learned. She has a reputation both in the bar and on the streets. It had taken a long time to build, but she’s proud of it. It keeps her safe. 

She’s rounding the corner of the street when she hears it. 

“Hey, shiny!” 

She stops for a second, thinking it had been directed at her. Her shoulders are tense as she turns, hearing the scuffle of feet. 

“We can get a few thousand for this.” 

A few feet away from her is a scene. Turn around. Keep walking. Her brain is screaming at her to mind her own business. She’d already been in one fight tonight. She’s done enough. 

Yet as she catches a glimpse at the poor soul getting mugged, something inside her blocks out her instincts. First off, he’s far too clean to be from down here. Some poor man that got tricked into coming this low for some gang’s quick payout most likely. He’d disappear and maybe a few people above would notice. 

She’d seen it happen many times. Yet, this one is different. 

He’s in armor. 

She’d heard whispers around the bar about a galactic war and an army. Politicians above spending their efforts fighting a war a galaxy away while trillions of people below them starved and fought just to live. None of them were very popular down below. 

Walk away. 

Her brain screams it as she moves closer, hands closing into fists at her side. They’re not going to leave without a fight. She just has to beat them. 

“Hey!” 

They pause at her voice, turning to look at her. There’s only two of them. She’s beaten worse odds. They’re scrappy, though. She can tell just by looking at them. 

Lucky for her, she is too. 

“Leave. Now.” She says, stopping a few feet from them. If she can distract him, then maybe the man can run for it. Maybe he’d make it to one of the elevators. 

Both of them laugh at her, the bigger of the two stepping closer. “You need to mind your own business, little girl. I’d hate to see you getting hurt.” 

She grabs the hand that’s reaching for her without a second thought, twisting it until she feels the pop under her hands. The big man lets out a howl, the second one jumping at her. She anticipates the hit, dodging behind the big man. She sends him reeling into a pile of garbage with a swift kick to his ass. The other one is faster, though, recovering from her dodge quicker than she’d expected. He lands a blow to her ribs, her already sore muscles screaming in protest. She doesn’t let it stop her though, ducking below a second hit, sending an uppercut directly to his jaw. 

He stumbles back, hitting the pavement hard. The big man has recovered, tackling her from behind. They land on the ground too, Midnight struggling in his grip for a moment. He’s strong, so she changes tactics, sinking her teeth into his arm. He shoves her off him with a few unkind words, and Midnight pushes herself to her feet, taking a fighting stance. 

The two share a look, obviously weighing their options. She’s bleeding, but she’s still going, adrenaline pumping through her system. She’s going to sleep great tonight. They rise to their feet, obviously having realized they weren’t going to win this fight. They take off down the street, dodging into an alley. 

She doesn't relax until they’ve been out of sight for a moment, sore muscles nearly giving out. She’s definitely going to stay in bed all day tomorrow. She turns as she hears the groan, surprised to see the man still on the ground. He’s sitting up now, at least, rubbing his head. 

“You should get out of here.” She says, turning fully to face him. He’s clean shaven, dark hair done in a buzzcut. He’s handsome, if you’re into that kind of thing. 

“I’m not even sure how I got here, or where here is.” He slurs. 

Drugged. 

Midnight sighs. She should just get him to his feet then leave him to get back to wherever he belongs. Yet, she can’t help but pity him. He was so obviously out of place down here. He’d never make it to an elevator in this state. 

The air is starting to smell damp. It’s going to rain soon. Midnight sighs once more, rolling up her sleeves before squatting next to the man. “Come on.” She slips an arm around him, helping him unsteadily to his feet. “Let’s get you off the street. It’s going to rain soon and you’ll never get it off that armor.” 

They’re slow moving, but thankfully they only have to go a block. He’s heavy, but he moves surprisingly well for being so inebriated. Getting him up the stairs to the communal house is the hardest part, both of them having to rest several times. 

Finally after what feels like an hour she gets him to her room. It’s a shared room, as most were in the house. Her roommate is still out thankfully, and likely would be till morning. She’s thankful for it as she eases the man onto her own cot. She doesn’t store much at the house, as it was just as likely for your belongings to get stolen here as it was on the street. Everything she cares about she carries on her person. 

She tosses the threadbare blanket over the man, barely enough to cover him. He’s already out again, exhausted from their short journey and whatever else had happened to him tonight. Midnight’s own exhaustion hits her like a speeder, and she drags her feet to her roommate’s cot. She wouldn’t care, more than likely she’d just crawl in next to Midnight if she came back before Midnight got up. It wasn’t unusual down here to do something like that. That’s just how it was. 

******

The man is awake when Midnight returns to her room. It’s morning, though you couldn’t tell looking out the window. Their only sign of morning was the artificial lights on the street that got slightly brighter to signify it was daylight above. Midnight, like most inhabitants down here, has never seen the sky, nor the sun. 

“Morning, sleepy.” Midnight sits on the edge of the bed next to the man, holding a bowl of soup in each hand. “Yadi made some soup. It’s shit but at least it’s warm.” 

The man pushes himself so he’s sitting up, taking a bowl. “Can’t be any worse than rations.” 

Midnight watches as he takes a bite, pausing a bit as he chews the tough meat. 

“I take that back.” He says, but still goes in for a second bite. 

Midnight laughs, eating her own soup. “You’re a soldier.” She says, looking him over. Every bit of him was regimented and postured. 

He nods. “I’m Marshal Commander CC-2224 of the Grand Army of the Republic at your service, ma’am. But you can call me Cody.” 

“Fancy titles.” She smirks. “I’m Midnight, full-time bare knuckle brawler.” 

He smiles a little. “I do remember that. You fight well.” His smile fades. “I can’t remember much else.” 

“You were drugged, most likely. Some hustler slipped you something, then brought you down here to get mugged. Probably was promised a cut of whatever they could get for your belongings. You’re lucky I found you. If the crazies didn’t finish you off, the ogres probably would have.” 

He stares at her for a moment. “Ogres?” 

She nods. “Most people above don’t believe they’re real, but ask anyone down here. We’ve all seen them at least once.” 

He stares at her with a shocked expression. She forgets how few people from above actually know what life is like down here. Most of them are too scared, or forget they’re standing above trillions of people. 

“Welcome to Level 256, Commander Cody.” She smiles sardonically. 

“I didn’t think anyone lived this low.” He says. 

“There’s people below us, if you want to call them that. I’ve heard of people going as low as Level 5. Some claim to have been to Level 0, but they’re full of it. This level is dangerous, and it only gets worse the lower you go. There’s more than just gangs down there. Creatures, radiation, the toxic waste that accumulates from the rest of the levels. Lots of people stumble down there only to never return. Lots of people stumble down here and never return. You would have been one, if I hadn’t saved you.” 

“Thank you.” He says, sincerity shining in his brown eyes. “I owe you a lot.” 

She shrugs. “It was nothing.” 

He eyes the many bruises on her body. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” 

She looks over her bruised knuckles, shrugging again. “Nah, most of those are from the fight I was coming home from.” 

“How long have you been fighting?” He asks her. 

“Professionally? Since I was 16, but I started on the streets a lot younger than that. That’s how you survive down here. You fight. My mom worked all day, and sometimes all night. I was alone to fend for myself most of the time. There’s all sorts of seedy people down here. You have to learn to fight them off real quick, or you disappear.” She swallows thickly. “My mom disappeared one night. Never came home.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s part of life down here. We’re all trying to make it out, trying to get up there, but most of us don’t. We’re confined to life down here. It’s just the way it is.” 

“I could help you.” He says. 

Midnight stares at him incredulously. “How?” 

“I can get you a job with the GAR. It won’t only get you to the upper levels, it will get you off Coruscant, if that’s what you want.” 

Midnight shakes her head. “I don’t think I’d qualify. I mean, the only skills I have are with my knuckles. I don’t even have an education.” 

“I can put in a good word for you.” He says. “Consider it repayment for saving my life.” 

The door opens before Midnight can say anything else, her roommate stumbling in. 

“Rough night?” Midnight asks. 

The Twi’lek mumbles incoherently before falling face first on her cot. She’s already snoring by the time she hits the thin mattress. Midnight and Cody watch her for a few moments, before Cody turns back to her. 

“I am serious.” He says. “I can get you a job. It might not be the most glamorous, or safe. The food’s not much better, and the beds aren’t much more comfortable. It is cleaner, though.” 

Midnight chews on her lip. This was her chance. It’s staring her right in the face. She can take it and run. There’s nothing keeping her down here, except perhaps sentimentality. Even her roommate wouldn’t miss her much if she suddenly disappeared. People disappear all the time down here. 

It’s just the way it is. 

“You can promise I won’t have to stay on Coruscant?” She asks finally. 

“Not permanently. You’ll have to return occasionally, since this is where most battalions spend shore-leave and where GAR headquarters are, but they’re brief stops usually.” 

Midnight stares down at the bruises on her knuckles. “I don’t know the first thing about war.” 

Cody puts a hand on her shoulder. His touch is firm, but not enough to hurt. “You’ll go through training. All civilians employed by the GAR do. I’ll personally see that you’re stationed somewhere decent.” 

Midnight is quiet for a moment. This is her moment. Sure, she might be getting a bit in over her head, but for some reason she trusts Cody. Maybe it’s his genuine sincerity, his kindness, something she’s been shown far too little of in her lifetime. Maybe it was his naivety to, well, what her entire existence consisted of. They weren't all that different. Both of them were fighting a war because of rich politicians, even if they were vastly different wars. 

“Okay.” She says finally, finalizing her fate. 

Cody smiles. “Okay. That’s good, because I also don’t know how to get out of here.” 

“Well lucky for you, Commander Cody, I do.” Midnight laughs as rises from the bed, gathering her few belongings into a bag. Cody rises from the bed, steadying himself for a moment. He’s tall, holding himself upright like he’s waiting for a fight from any direction. Side effects of fighting in a war, she thinks. 

“Ready?” He asks as she slings her bag across her body. 

“Ready.” She says. 

The walk to the elevators is a long one. There weren’t many on this level, mostly to keep the inhabitants from rushing to the top all at once. It was almost as if those above knew if the lower levels banded together, they could overwhelm them easily. Keep them at bay by limiting transport up above. There were many that tried, but most were turned away on upper levels. One could never quite hide the look of belonging in the lower levels no matter how hard one tried. 

Midnight steps onto the elevator with Cody when they arrive. “It’s a long ride to the top.” She says. 

“If we can get a speeder, it’ll be faster.” Cody says. 

“Then we need to go a thousand levels up or so.” She says. “Still, I hope you're not expected anywhere today. You can get me a head start on that training while we go.” 

*****

The first thing Midnight does when they arrive at the GAR headquarters is look up. She steps out onto the landing pad, her gaze drawn upward. She stares in awe, blinking up at the thousands of stars overhead. There’s two moons hanging over them, standing clear in the inkiness above. 

It’s better than she had ever imagined. She wonders if she’ll get to see it in the morning too. She wonders if it’ll be blue like she always heard. 

Cody stops, noticing her not following him. He watches her for a moment, taking in the smile on her face as she looks up at the night sky. 

“It’s better than I’ve ever imagined.” She says. She’d caught glimpses of sky in the few holofilms she’d seen, but it never quite did justice to her longing to see it in person. She drops her gaze to look at Cody’s questioning glance. “I’ve never seen the sky before.” She explains. “You don’t see the sky where I’m from.” 

He smiles, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Well, kid. I promise you’ll see a lot of skies before this is all over.” 

He leads her towards the large building looming in front of them. It all feels very surreal to her, that just a day before she had been living her life as she thought she always would. Now, she’s going to live her dream of escaping Coruscant. 

*****

“I’ve got a special assignment for you.” 

Cody has assured her this was the perfect thing for her. How she could best serve the GAR. 

Her training had been a rigorous three months of learning about everything she needed to know about the GAR and how to function in it. Combat training, weapons training, everything she needed to know in order to best function in the Republic’s army. Of course, her training had been a bit different than the rest of her squad. They were all moving on to medic, strategist, engineering, mechanics training. Cody had put in a special request for her. She was graduating training already, heading straight for the front lines of the war. 

Straight to a specialized clone squad. 

It was a small squad, created for highly specialized missions. They were...different from the “regular clones,” those she had worked with during her training. They had...special enhancements that made them more useful in special circumstances. She hadn’t asked what those circumstances were, what kinds of missions they went on. They didn’t serve under a Jedi General like the other squads. Instead they got their orders directly from the GAR, constantly on the move. 

When she had told Cody she wanted nothing more than to get off Coruscant and see the galaxy, she hadn’t meant quite like this. 

The transport ship rocks as it sets down on the landing pad. She rises as the ramp opens, troopers waiting to start unloading the supplies. She blinks against the bright sunlight, something she still wasn’t used to, as she shoulders her pack, making her way down the ramp. 

“Midnight, good to see you again.” Cody greets her as she steps off the ramp. 

“Commander.” She salutes him. 

He waves his hand. “No need for that. I’ll make an exception for you. You did save my ass, remember?” 

She grins at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” 

He shakes his head. “Come on. It’s time to meet your new squad.” 

“Right. Clone Force 99?” 

Cody nods. “Named after a special clone. They’re good guys, though they may take some time warming up to you.” 

“Right. A lot of strikes against me. I’m not a clone, I have no...enhancements...” She gestures to herself. “Woman.” 

“You’ll just have to impress them.” 

It’s quiet for a moment as he leads her across the landing pad towards an Omicron attack shuttle. “Cody?” She breaks the silence, unable to keep one question at bay. “Why did you assign me to this squad?” 

He slows down a bit, glancing at her. “In truth, I had no other choice. Your combat scores were very high, but all your other exam scores were...mediocre. With no formal education, there weren’t many places they were willing to put you. They wanted to keep you at the offices on Coruscant, putting you to work there. I knew you wouldn’t like that. I would have put in word for you to be sent into my battalion, but you’d be overlooked, your skills would go to waste. At worst, you’d be treated like a bolt stopper. With the ‘99, I can trust your skills will be put to better use. That, and I can keep a closer eye on you.” 

She tries to give him a smile, but it probably looks more like a nervous grimace. 

“Don’t worry.” He pats her shoulder. “You’ll do just fine.” 

She’s so kriffing screwed. 

The clone that’s waiting for them is unlike any clone she has yet to see. Though her experience with clones was few and far between, this one doesn’t quite look like a clone. Not at first glance, at least. The most striking thing about him is the skull tattoo that covered half his face. It made him look dangerous, imposing. His brow is furrowed, focused as they draw nearer. A red bandana holds back thick curls that fell almost to his shoulders. Longer than any clone she had yet to see. Like the other clones, though, he’s built like a piece of art, broad shoulders and a slim waist. Though he’s covered in armor, she can see the strength in his stance. Her fighting experience gives her a good eye for things like that. 

“Good to see you, Commander.” He greets Cody, his voice deep and gravelly. 

He turns to her, eyes squinted slightly as they take her in. He’s reading her like a holonovel, flipping through piece by piece. Analyzing, processing. 

Cody turns to her. “Midnight, this is your squad leader, Hunter.” 

She stands up straighter, saluting him. “Sir.” 

The corner of Hunter’s mouth lifts in a smile. “No need for that. Just call me Hunter.” 

She relaxes, lowering her hand. 

“Midnight saved me a lot of trouble a few months back.” Cody says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I trust she’ll be in good hands?” 

Hunter nods. “We’ll look after her.” 

Cody squeezes her shoulder, looking down at her. “This is where I leave you. Remember, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

She nods. “Thanks, Cody.” 

Cody says his goodbyes to Hunter before leaving her alone with her new squad. She turns back to face Hunter, finding him staring at her again. 

“You must have really done him a big favor.” He finally says. 

She shrugs. “Yeah. He was in an...unfortunate situation when I met him. I don’t know how much he’d want me to tell, but let’s just leave it at that. I did him a big favor. He repaid me by getting me off Coruscant.” 

Hunter raises his eyebrows at her. “Don’t tell me you’re a fugitive.” 

“No, I’ve never been caught.” He stares at her blankly and she can’t help but crack a smile. “I’m joking. Mostly. No, I was dirt poor and had no prospects of ever being anything more than that.” 

He nods slowly. “We’re loading up the rest of the supplies before we take off on our next mission. We don’t get to stop a lot, sometimes going four or five missions between breaks. But even our breaks are short. Come on.” He motions for her to follow. “I’ll introduce you to the others.”  

Taglist: 

@lo0nylexi, @amyroswell​, @dangraccoon​

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Flying High…On The Bars 🤸🏽‍♂️ | Top Gun Maverick Imagine (Bob Floyd) Part II-Final

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

read part 1 here

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Olympic gymnast!reader (romantic), Dagger squad x reader (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of sporting injuries, slight profanity, recounts details of 2012, 2016, & 2020 Olympic Games. Emotional at the end| Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 14k+ (not edited, so sorry if there are few mistakes. I plan to go back and fix them.)

Premise: When one sets their eyes on the Olympic dream, it becomes their life. When one falls in love with a person committed to achieving that dream, it becomes theirs as well. One year after a global pandemic shut down the world and two years after the high-risk uranium mission of the Top Gun special detachment, the Games of the XXXII Olympiad have finally commenced with Bob Floyd and his fellow daggers gathering in Lemoore, California to watch the love of his life step foot on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Prepping for her final Olympic Games, gold medalist Y/n L/n thinks back on her decade long career, with obstacles, trials, and tribulations in its wake……and finding love along with way.

Note: so these Olympic imagines have been dear to my heart, because I was once a little girl doing gymnastics with an olympic dream. unfortunately it did not work out, but I love to imagine what could have been you know. As I disclaimed in part one, I am well aware of the scandal that took place with USA gymnastics (I’m utterly disgusted that it happened for as long as it did and at the people who tried to cover it up plus I wish nothing but cruel and hell to that despicable doctor.) For the sake of not triggering anyone, I have omitted to mention it in this imagine, but I am well aware it did happen and my heart is with the gymnasts who were affected and targeted.

I highly recommend listening to the song linked at the end during the floor routine bit. I lowkey nearly shed a tear cause I was listening to it while writing it and it just fits so bad. The Spotify one is not what I’m referring to, that’s just a song I love that I often think of emotional comeback stories with.

—————————————

2016: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The Games of the XXXI Olympiad

When the day of the qualifications took place on the first night of competition, Y/n was met with a major let down in the results. While thrilled to compete in the team final and have a chance at defending her titles on the bars and beam, Y/n was pushed out of the All-Around competition. As predicted Simone was the top gymnast to qualify, leaving the returning Olympians to compete against one another for the final spot. A mistake on the floor had been the contributing factor when Y/n stepped completely out of bounds on her final tumbling pass. A major deduction, she already had a low start value compared to the others.

That one big step had her chances at All-Around gold disappear.

On the mat Y/n maintained a smile, congratulating Aly and Simone as well as the rest of the team for a great run that had them take the #1 spot for team qualifications. She and Gabby’s hug lingered a little longer, both wearing solemn expressions. Both feeling the same loss, but still happy for their teammates who do get the chance to fight for the honor of All-Around Olympic champion.

“And here are the defending Olympic All-Around, uneven bars, and balance beam champions embracing in what can only be described as a bittersweet gesture. The two have been through so much together as members of the national team, competing in London together and multiple Worlds. They both had stellar Olympic runs four years ago and were so happy at the announcement of the trials to, along with Aly Raisman, represent the US in another Olympic Games. In what could very well be their last Olympic appearance, Gabby Douglas and Y/n L/n. Two world class athletes, who will not get the chance for All-Around gold.”

“I can’t imagine what Y/n must be feeling right now—finishing third overall but because of the two-per-country rule she’s been pushed out by Aly Raisman. It’s deja vu right now in the dome—thinking back to London when the reigning World All-Around Champion, Jordyn Wieber, did not qualify for the finals. Y/n has said time and time again that her motivation for training these past four years was to hopefully qualify for the All-Around competition. She was doing so well tonight, but that step out of bounds on the floor unfortunately was the dealbreaker. It now leaves us to wonder if this will be the last time we see Y/n in an Olympic Games once this week comes to an end.”

That night in her room at the Olympic village, Y/n allowed the emotion to flow freely. She cried in the shower when the realization finally set in. The All-around was now a thing of the past. The Olympian was heartbroken that everything she worked for after London would not be seen by the world. She could only imagine what the commentators had said after the results came in. They’d been talking for days how she was the expected person to qualify after taking the silver at two consecutive World Championships.

But like every gymnast told themselves when competing, anything could happen.

Y/n allowed herself one hour to cry and be depressed, but then she had to get back to work. There was no time to get in her feelings when the gold was on the line. In two nights would be the team final, and then she’d have a few days before competing on bars and finally ending her Olympics on the beam.

Qualifications were done. The finals were up.

This time around the USA was paired with China. Russia was #3 coming out of qualifications, but they were gonna be bringing the heat again. Four rotations, three athletes from each country with all three scores counting. There was no room for mistakes. Unlike four years prior in London, Y/n was selected to be part of the first rotation on vault. She was the defending World champion on the apparatus, having performed and successfully landed a triple twisting Yurchenko, making her the first gymnast to pull it off without a fall and therefore it was named after her. It wasn’t her first eponymous skill. At the 2013 World championships a transition from low to high bar was named after her following successful completion, then a quadruple spin on beam and a new uneven bars mount at the 2015 Worlds, all four called the L/n. It was speculated Y/n would unveil a new dismount in Rio.

And that’s exactly what she had planned.

On the first rotation, the vault, Y/n played it safe by performing the Amânar—a Yurchenko 2 ½ twist named after Romanian gymnast, Simona Amânar—rather than go for the full three. They wanted a good lead to start and Y/n was confident she could deliver. After many years she’d become better on vault to the point she was a contender against well known strong vaulters like Simone and Mckayla Maroney. Getting a vault named after her only increased that opinion. Of course every now and then she’d have a little step on the landing but it was never like in juniors where she was well off to the side or nearly out of bounds.

Y/n felt the pressure to the point it was almost nauseating. She was the first to kick off Team USA on the vault. What used to have a start value of 6.5 in London, the Amânar was now a 6.3. Had she done the triple twist it would have been a 7.0 start value, but the coaches urged her to play it safe after taking big steps in training. Y/n drowned out the roar of the crowd when the announcer spoke during her salute to the judge. “Em abóbada, representando os Estados Unidos da América, Y/n L/n.”

“On vault, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n.”

Pumping out a score of 15.693, it was a spectacular start for team USA. Aly and Simone did great on their turn, soon China was up leaving the team to mentally prepare for the next rotation: bars. After everyone was done they had some time to wait. It was usually like that with the vault since it went so fast compared to full routines. Floor always took the longest of the four apparatuses so Y/n went ahead and got her grips out and ready for bars warmup.

At the end of the rotation they were in the lead, but it was close. There was no doubt after vault the competition would be a heated battle for the crown. Team USA was going for back-to-back gold, Russia was looking for redemption after disaster in London. China was looking to medal after getting fourth four years prior. It was more personal for the gymnasts with the significance of the year. 2016 marked 20 years since the Magnificent Seven won gold in Atlanta.

Then came the uneven bars, Y/n’s favorite. Coming into Rio they were the 4-time World Champion and defending Olympic champion with the highest start value of 7.1–which would increase to an 8.1 for the event finals. Her start value in London was higher than here in Rio, but with the new Code of Points after every Olympic cycle it dropped the values of several skills. She’d be last in the line up, with commentators already buzzing on the excitement for her routing.

“There’s the three-time olympic champion. Y/n L/n of the USA, getting ready for her turn on the uneven bars in this women’s team final. For those of you watching at home who are new to the world of gymnastics, this is a routine you’re going to want to watch. We’re talking world class. Y/n is the four-time World champion—first winning the title first in 2011 and went on to claim it again these last three years on top of being the 2012 Olympic gold medalist. She is a star on this event, jam packed routine with two skills named after her—which we’ll see in just a moment. All year Y/n has been the talk of hoping to repeat her London success—the US is currently going for their second team gold as we’ve mentioned several times—but Y/n is looking to come out on top in the individual bars and beam final we’ll see in a few days. I have no doubt she’ll likely take the gold in the uneven bars, but beam is going to be interesting with Simone Biles as her competition.”

“It should also be noted, Allen, that Y/n is hinting at possibly unveiling a new dismount in the uneven bars final. I heard speculation that after qualifications her coaches had petitioned a start value change for her routine. What we're about to see here is going to be the same one she performed Sunday night with a value of 7.1, but if my sources are true then we could be seeing it change to a record breaking 8.1 this coming Sunday. A whole point increase.”

When Y/n’s feet hit the mat following the end of the routine, her smile shined with the cheers of the crowd. All thoughts of missing out in the All-Around had disappeared. Flying high on the uneven bars was basically therapy for the gymnast. Her teammates were screaming, jumping up and down before racing to embrace her. Mike gave her a high-five and a hug, telling her she was magnificent. The team USA supporters were on their feet. It was a beautiful scene. And it made it all the better with a score of 16.765.

Second on the beam rotation, Y/n came through with a score of 16.046 from a start value of 6.6. It was then time for her teammates to finish the job with Simone ending the beam before they went to floor.

And they didn’t disappoint.

At the end of the competition, USA was on top of the board, with the ‘Final Five’ on top of the podium. History. Actual history.

Then when Sunday night came around, history was once again made when Y/n became the first American gymnast to win back-to-back gold on uneven bars. “She’s going for the 8.1 start value—wow, this could be history in the making folks. The reason it’s so high is because the dismount she is planning to do is rated a J-valued skill—it’s a full point. And if she lands it, feet on the ground and arms up, it will be named after her to become her fifth eponymous skill. She’s already got four to her name including a D-valued mount and transition here on bars. I’m confident we’re already witnessing Olympic history for Y/n L/n. Even if she falls off of the bar—which is a full point of deductions—she’ll still win. It would have to be a catastrophic routine for the gymnast to not take the gold—which I don’t think I’ve ever seen from her in an international competition.”

The last to go as the top qualifier, Y/n waits patiently for her turn until signaled to step on the mat. Mike gives her a routine prep talk, telling her to just do her best like she’s always done with a fatherly kiss to the head. Green light from the judge she salutes, “Representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” Two licks to each thumb, one clap and a deep breath, Y/n’s roundoffing onto the springboard and the routine begins.

“Very difficult mount—round off onto the springboard and half turning into a straight position to catch the low bar. Now it’s just greatness from here on out—stellar combinations of pirouettes and transitions with big releases. It just does not slow down—and what makes it so much more complicated for judges to take deductions is Y/n has near perfect form—which is very difficult for gymnasts with skills of this level. Big release combo after these handstand pirouettes on the high bar….gorgeous. Gorgeous, gorgeous form. Moment of truth here, the crowd is already on edge—some already celebrating—Y/n hasn’t had a fall and therefore may get the full 8.1 start value. The dismount she’s been hinting at all Olympic Games—can she land it for her second Olympic gold on the uneven bars—AND SHE’S GOT IT! SHE COMPLETED THE SKILL! HER ARMS ARE UP! HOLY MOLY IT’S HISTORY FOR Y/N L/N OF THE UNITED STATES!!”

Tears were in Y/n’s eyes, lip quivering as she let out a breath of relief. It was like a scene from a movie where there's that brief moment of silence for the main character before it explodes around them. Barely could she make out the sound of her own inner thoughts with the vibration of the packed stadium. Saluting the judges felt like slow-motion, and Y/n could’ve sworn she saw one give a slight nod of respect. Another had their mouth slightly agape, in disbelief the gymnast pulled it off. Shit Y/n was in disbelief herself.

“She took a huge step, stumbling to catch herself, but she got her feet on the mat and arms up for a stunning finish to a phenomenal routine. The crowd here in Rio is unbelievable with Team USA in the stands going crazy as we just witnessed Y/n L/n do what no American gymnast has done before! A J-valued dismount—her third eponymous skill on the uneven bars and a second Olympic gold! That’s going down in the history books as one of the greatest moments in USA gymnastics.” Y/n races off the mat, practically catapulting into the arms of her coach. The cameraman races after her.

“The score hasn’t even come in yet, but it’s already known to every single person here that the medal belongs to Y/n L/n. She did not fall, she had perfect form on those handstands—the only big deduction will come from that stumble on the landing. Even if she had a fall it would’ve still put her at a 7.1 start value—the highest of any gymnast in this competition. But she landed that dismount and got the full 8.1 she was hoping for. Right now the top score on the board is 15.900 but that’s about to change any second now—-IT’S A 17.408!!!! IT’S OFFICIAL—Y/N L/N IS THE TWO-TIME OLYMPIC CHAMPION ON THE UNEVEN BARS!! THE FIRST AMERICAN TO CLAIM BACK-TO-BACK INDIVIDUAL GOLD!!”

Two-time Olympic champion.

Words could not even describe the emotion Y/n was feeling. Their fifth gold medal in the Olympics…which became six two nights later in a stunning twist of events. With a start value of 6.3, Y/n gave her all the moment her hand hit the apparatus. She was just hoping to get on the podium, regardless of the color and add another medal to her collection. The second to last to compete, Y/n cheered Simone from the sides after receiving her score of 15.698–putting her in the top position that guaranteed Y/n the silver. Like everyone else in the arena gasped when the All-Around champion touched the beam to catch herself from falling off. She hated the way her heart started pumping, knowing damn well a mistake like that is a full point deduction because the judges treat it like a fall off the beam. Not wanting to get her hopes high, she rejected the thought of possibly being the winner and continued to support her friend and teammate.

When the score did come for Simone, Y/n was in disbelief. The final results were in. Just like it was London, Gold & bronze for the USA.

Y/n was now a two-time gold medalist on the beam.

She was pretty much frozen when Simone and her coach embraced her. Her arms went around Simone first, the tears escaping after a sob managed to leave her. “Unbelievable! In a stunning turn of events, Simone Biles has taken the bronze medal—Y/n L/n, the defending 2012 Olympic champion has reclaimed the gold! It’s a sweep for America—they have taken the gold in every women’s event final in Rio! Simone Biles for the All-Around, vault and floor, Y/n L/n for the bars and beam, and Team USA returning as the #1 team in the world. Take it all in for you folks watching at home. I don’t think we’ll ever see something like this again.”

“Team USA go 1 & 3 in the women’s balance beam final—It’s Y/n L/n on top of the podium once again just like four years ago, this time with All-Around champion Simone Biles with the bronze. The 20-year-old from Lemoore, California has done the impossible—repeating her London success with three gold medals here at the Olympic Games in Rio. She now has the record of the most Olympic gold medals of any American gymnast.”

Returning to the States, Y/n was met with celebration. Parades were in store, interviews lined up, and appearances on talk shows. Getting the call from James Corden felt like she’d been dreaming. Her second biggest fangirl moment came on the show when Harry Styles and Scarlett Johansson were the other guests. “Y/n, welcome to the show—this is your first appearance since winning gold in Rio. So happy to have you with us.”

“It’s an honor to be here, James,” she grinned, willing her voice to remain steady. Usually she was good with reporters and the press, but talk shows with people she admired was a different ballgame. “You know this almost feels like a full circle moment sitting beside Harry,” a hand motions to the singer, who’s brows raise a bit in confusion but maintains a smile, “It brings me back to the London Games—because I watched you perform with One Direction at the closing ceremonies.”

“Oh wow, that’s right,” he laughed, beaming at the Olympian. “Crazy to think that was already four years ago. Now you’re a repeat champion—which is so amazing.” Y/n blushes as the audience claps and hollars.

James cuts in, “Not only are you a champion, but you have the most gold medals for any American gymnast—what an accomplishment. Member of back-to-back winning teams and defending your title as the uneven bars and balance beam champion. Your bars routine has become one of the most replayed moments in Rio. Let’s actually take a look at it, here is that gold medal moment of the women’s uneven bars final,” everyone turns to the monitor. The footage of Y/n’s routine plays, capturing the moment she successfully landed the dismount and secured the gold. The audience cheered as it came to an end with Y/n smiling shyly. “Now that the Games have passed, people are wondering if that was it for you for the Olympics. Is Tokyo something you have your eyes set on?”

On the couch Harry and Scarlet looked just as curious. All the attention was on the athlete, causing her to become a little flustered as she thought of the best way to respond. It wasn’t the first time she was asked about Tokyo. There were already discussions among commentators—wondering if missing out on the All-Around again would be motivation to train for a third Olympics.

“I really hadn’t made a decision about Tokyo on the basis of what Rio would bring. Just getting to go to another Olympics and actually succeeding in defending my titles is an extreme honor—and I have to give credit to my girls, the team gold wouldn’t have happened without them. Simone, Aly, Gabby, and Laurie. They’re the most incredible gymnasts to ever exist and it’s a blessing I get to share that glory with them,” Y/n pauses at the claps, “I had planned already to compete in next year's Worlds, but Tokyo was not set in stone. But….missing out of the All-Around competition has definitely ignited a fire in me. I didn’t get the chance to compete in the event at London—which pretty much motivated the past four years to make the Rio team. I’ll be 24 in 2020–and of course injuries can occur, but…I think I will try to get a third Olympics—just to hopefully qualify for the All-Around. And then regardless if I make the team or not, I will more than likely retire.”

And so the training for Tokyo 2020 commenced with the athlete returning to her hometown of Lemoore. Y/n’s gym she’d been training since 5 years old had increased in students since her first Games. Many of the students, boys and girls alike, looked up to the gymnast—often sticking around after their classes just to get a glimpse of Y/n. Her coaches had been sought out by athletes across the nation, but Mike and Mary declined offers to put their sole focus on Y/n. There were plenty of other assistant coaches in the gym who could easily take on the role they were desiring. It would be until after Y/n retired that they’d take on another gymnast.

The one thing Y/n could not have predicted that first year after Rio, was running into the adorable Navy officer she’d met at the trials. Lieutenant Junior Grade Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd. While the whole interaction seemed like light years away with everything that happened after the trials, Y/n could never forget the blue-eyed man and his sister. Deep down she was a little sad at not getting a notification on social media he posted their photo. Then she could have followed him and even messaged the guy.

Y/n brushed it off as Bob maybe not having social media. Not everyone was big into it and that was totally fine. He was just a memory at that point. So one could imagine her surprise when Y/n spotted him on the air strip of NAS Lemoore, she had to do a double take.

It was a sunny spring morning on a Tuesday when the two reunited. Y/n’s car was in the shop and wouldn’t be done till the afternoon so her coaches gave her the morning of training off. Though Y/n no longer lived with her parents, having moved to her own place with the money from sponsorships by going pro, she still visited them nearly everyday. That particular day her car was at the base Firestone and so to pass time she was at her dad’s job….which happened to be at the airstrip.

Searching for the lounge to get a snack she passed some of her dad’s coworkers, offering a smile and wave. The area was mostly reserved for civilian workers, but every now and then a serviceman or woman would be seen. Finding the lounge Y/n grabbed a fruit bowl and water, not noticing the man seated at a high table with his headphones in and eyes focused on his laptop screen. Bob didn’t even see her come in, so when Y/n did a quick sweep as she made her way out, Bob was oblivious to her reaction.

“Bob?” The sudden confused tone of someone calling out to him had the man jump. When he snapped his head in its direction, Bob’s eyes went wide, frantically pulling away the headphones and pausing the video. For a moment he thought his eyes were deceiving him. But then her expression turned from shock to delight, “It is you! Oh my goodness—at first I thought, ‘there’s no way that’s him.’ Wow this is crazy. Hi!”

Bob was at a loss for words. The Olympian he met a year ago, who he could not stop thinking about since, was in front of him. “O-oh wow, hi,” he stuttered out, mentally cursing at how he sounded. “Wow, I was not expecting this to happen when I woke up this morning.”

“Same too,” Y/n chuckled, “How are you? Are you.. are you stationed here?” It hit the gymnast that it was mentioned at one point during their interaction he was in the Navy. Noticing the single silver bar, she was able to point out he was a Lieutenant Junior Grade. And judging by his flight suit, he was either a pilot, WSO, or RIO. “You’re a pilot?”

“Weapons system officer,” he politely corrects. “And yeah uh I just got here about a month ago.” Pink appears on his cheeks, “I would ask what you’re doing here….but I sorta already know you’re from here. My sister—Daisy, if you remember her—made her jealousy to me quite clear when I told my family I got orders here. But I promise I‘m not some stalker and was hoping to run into you again—quite frankly I’m shocked it happened here on base of places.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his embarrassment. “Don’t worry I wouldn’t have thought you to be,” she takes the seat opposite of him, Bob closing his laptop before moving it away to make room on the surface. “Yeah, my dad actually works in the civilian division—he used to be in the Navy back in the 90s. I don’t come on base often, but I had the morning off and my car is in the shop. I’m just waiting for it to finish before heading to the gym.”

“Congratulations by the way,” Bob said with a smile, “on your wins last summer. I caught some of the Team competition, you guys were amazing. Then Daisy had me sit with her to watch the bars and beam final. She was really happy you won—I am too.”

“Thank you,” she grins, “I’m glad I didn’t let you guys down. How is Daisy by the way? Still doing gymnastics?” They fell into a conversation with Bob giving an update on his sister. Before long they were asking each other questions and telling stories about their travels.

Bob also explained that he doesn’t have social media, not really finding it to be his scene. “I do, however, as embarrassing as it is to say aloud, show off the photos when people like to brag about celebrities or athletes they’ve met. They never believe me at first, so it does bring satisfaction to prove them wrong.”

It felt so natural to talk to Bob, and those butterflies Y/n felt a year ago were starting to resurface. This time when she had to leave Y/n made sure to get his number. His surprise was evident, not expecting the request but nonetheless gave it to her.

It was the start of their love story.

Texting occurred almost every night. Then a coffee date turned into dinner and soon Y/n was leaving practice in a hurry to meet up with Bob. It would be at 7 in the evening and Y/n would be exhausted by the time she got into bed, but every second was worth it as the crush on Bob started to progress. They’d go to the beach, check out a new movie, have picnics, and would spend every free moment together. At one point Y/n’s coaches became concerned, especially when the the week Bob was TDY’d her routines were shakier than usual. They were not opposed to her having relationships. Y/n’s entire career she was single save for a few flings—especially in 2016 when she hooked up with an Olympic swimmer from Germany… then a Brazilian soccer player after the closing ceremonies.

They just wanted her to be careful. She was an athlete with a career that took up so many hours of her life she barely had time to do other things. Y/n was looking to be the first gymnast since Dominique Dawes to make the Olympic team for a third consecutive Games. The All-Around was her goal, on top of defending her title on bars and beam. Her coaches didn’t want her giving up all she had worked for if she wasn’t 100% sure of her feelings for Bob.

Y/n was young. She wanted to have fun and make those lifelong bonds. Romance may have not been the priority her entire life, but she desired the day she’d meet a nice person who’d treat her right—who would one day love and she’d love them. Bob was slowly becoming that person she saw a future with. The sweet WSO with gorgeous blue eyes and a kind smile. Who would blush when she flirted with him and bring water bottles and snacks to the gym to make sure she was hydrated and fed. Who’d send her gymnastics memes just to make her laugh—especially the ones with the screenshot of her reaction when a gymnast at a World’s had yelled at a judge because of a score. Who would stick around when she trained—amazement in his gaze at everything she did. He’d ask questions about the sport, wanting to know everything about it because it was her life and passion. When she asked questions, Bob would go into detail and share knowledge about aviation with her. Hearing him be so passionate about his job made Y/n admire him immensely. After weeks of the phone calls, texts, dates, Y/n accepted something she had been scared to say aloud.

Bob was her dream person.

Their first kiss took place four months after reuniting in front of her gym. That same moment Bob finally got the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend, which she wholeheartedly accepted. Once it was official her coaches noticed improvement on her routines that had started to slack. She managed to hide Bob from the media, not confirming the relationship publicly until after their one year. Well…..Y/n confirmed she was in a relationship with a mirror photo of her in Bob’s lap and his back to the mirror so the camera wouldn’t capture his face. They’d had a discussion prior with Y/n raising concerns about him getting possible media attention. Bob had a job that may require top secret missions and to protect him from security clearance issues they both agreed to keep his identity secret.

Y/n made sure though Bob never felt like he was being hidden. She would post snap stories of their interlaced hands, his face tucked in her neck when cuddling, or the back of his head with flirty captions. Bob couldn’t go to every competition of hers, but when he did he was her biggest supporter. His sister was overjoyed to hear the news Bob had met Y/n again, Daisy literally screaming when he drops the bomb Y/n was his girlfriend.

He did, however, expose himself and their relationship in 2019–a complete accident. At the World Championships in Germany, Y/n was the reigning 2018 gold medalist on the beam—her first beam gold since 2013. After winning silver in the All-Around for the fourth time and claiming her seventh consecutive bars title at the competition, her world nearly came to an end when her foot slipped during her tumbling pass in the beam final.

Searing pain shot through her knee, the gymnast falling awkwardly on the mat causing gasps to ring out. A pained groan escaped her followed by a shriek when shifting her leg. “Oh no,” she mumbled, alarms ringing in her head at what area had just been injured. All the agony was in her knee, where the ACL was located…..

Tears sprung in her eyes as her coach and medics swarmed her. “Where does it hurt?”

“My knee,” she hissed, “shit, it’s my knee.” In her head she was screaming, ‘please don’t be the ACL. Please don’t be the ACL.’ They hauled her off the mat, the judges, spectators, and her fellow competitors all looking on with worry. An ambulance was pulled up, rushing the gymnast to the hospital where she was met with the worst news she could get; her ACL was torn and she needed emergency surgery asap. Everything that followed was a blur. All she could remember next was waking up and her coaches were by her bed. They both wore the same expression as Y/n; heartbroken.

7-9 months was the recovery period for an ACL tear. It was currently the middle of October with the trials 9 months away. Was it possibly for Y/n to get back into training and do the trials after only a month post recovery? Ideally. Was it wise? Absolutely not. They usually recommend a full year before deep diving back into a sport with an injury like that. Muscle memory after so many years of gymnastics would be Y/n’s advantage, but she’d be shaky coming into the competition, unlikely to hit her routines like she usually did. Making the Tokyo team would not happen.

Y/n pretty much cried herself to sleep. Her dreams of the Olympic All-Around and a third Games were gone. It depressed her to even think of what sportscenter was saying. When she awoke she had dozens of missed calls from teammates, friends, her parents, and Bob. She dialed Bob immediately, sobbing into the receiver when he answered with a relieved breath, “Baby.” Hearing her in hysterics had Bob nearly book a flight to Germany right there, “I’m coming to get you.”

“No!” Y/n shouted, starting to calm down. “You can’t—you’ve got that detachment. Don’t worry about me.” The same week Y/n was in Germany, Bob was returning to Top Gun for a special detachment he had little details to. He was hesitant to go with her World's so close, but Y/n insisted saying she’d be fine. If the Navy was calling him back it had to have been important.

“Don’t tell me not to worry, Y/n,” he tells her, trying to be calm but worry was laced in his tone. “I watched you fall and not get up. Had it not been for Mike calling me to let me know you were in surgery I would’ve been on the next flight out to Stuggart. And you need me right now.”

“The Navy needs you right now, Bobby. You can’t just waltz out of there—you could literally be court martialed for it,” he was beginning to protest, so Y/n changed the route. “Look, I’m going to be discharged in two days. Instead of flying home I’ll come to you and rent a beach house or something for the remainder of your assignment. How’s that sound?” After several minutes of going back and forth—with Y/n convincing her boyfriend to not risk losing his job—Bob finally relented.

They said their ‘I love you’s’ and goodbyes with Y/n promising to keep him updated on her condition and flight status, they hung up so she could get much needed rest. Unbeknownst to the gymnast, Bob wasn’t alone when she had called him.

During the live feed of the competition, Bob was in the lounge watching it unfold. There was a 9 hour difference between California and Germany, so it was the middle of the afternoon when Y/n was set to compete in the beam final. He had hooked up his laptop to the TV to stream the event since he and the other pilots were on lunch break. It probably was a bad idea, confirmed by the confused and amused looks he received from the squad, but Bob never missed Y/n’s meets even if he couldn’t physically attend.

“Since when did you like gymnastics, baby on board?” Hangman snickered. “Did you do it as a kid?”

Bob glared, turning the volume higher when the screen popped up. “My sister does. She’s who got me into it,” it wasn’t a complete lie. Daisy did introduce Bob to the sport, but it was Y/n who made him more invested. With the two combined giving him knowledge, the aviator knew everything there was. “I took her to watch the Olympic team trials in 2016 for her birthday.”

Phoenix gave an impressed look, moving to sit on the couch. “That was very thoughtful. Did you guys get lucky and meet anyone?”

Bob debated saying, but he opened the door by mentioning it so he bit back a grin and nodded. “Yeah we did. We met her favorite gymnast—it was an amazing moment.”

“Who?” Rooster asked, taking a seat on a stool. Right as he did, Y/n appeared on the screen. Now Bob couldn’t hide his smile, nodding to the TV, “her.”

All heads snapped to the screen, followed by shocked looks and some saying, ‘no way.’ ‘You’re lying.’ ‘That’s literally one of the best gymnasts ever.’ ‘I’d go as far as to call her one of the greatest athletes ever—up there with Simone Biles, Micheal Phelps, and Micheal Jordan.’

Coyote whistled under his breath, the screen showing Y/n’s career statistics. “You’re telling us—if we’re hearing you correctly, you met Y/n fucking L/n? Like actually got to speak and see her up close? I gotta see some proof, Floyd.” Sounds of agreement echoed, causing Bob to blush and take out his phone. He hid the screen away so no one could see his lock screen of Y/n and scrolled through his gallery to find the picture. The one with her and Daisy was pulled up first. “That’s her and my sister after running into her on our way out.”

Phoenix, who was sitting next to him, snatches the phone. The others come around her, all with matching expressions. “Yo, that’s fire.” “That’s so cool.” “What about you, Bob?” He tells Nat to swipe right a few times. She does and they see the selfies of Y/n and Daisy before landing on the one of Bob. “Well I’ll be damned.” “Holy shit that’s amazing.” Then Nat gets to the kiss on the cheek. “Okay, Bob!” Payback claps his back, while Hangman says, “I’m a little jealous, Bob. How’d you convince her to do that?”

“I didn’t. She offered.” Jake scoffs, not believing the WSO. Bob takes the phone before Nat could find the photos of him and Y/n when they started dating. Everyone took their seats, having nothing else to do and decided to watch the meet with him.

“Yo she’s amazing,” Nat said in awe. The screen was showing footage from the 2018 World’s and even some of the 2016 Olympics. Nat was familiar with the renowned gymnast, having tuned in to watch the Games whenever they would come on. The pilot had dabbled in the sport in her young age, but grew out of it to pursue other aspirations. She did continue to lightly follow the careers of the gymnasts she admired, and Y/n was one of them.

“She is,” Bob said in a voice Nat couldn’t describe. It was almost like it was loving. When she faced him, she saw the face of a man in love. Watching his behavior, the pilot picked up signs that he was trying to not let certain things show. Like he was hiding something. Immediately Nat was filled with suspicion—which only grew when the title card beneath Y/n’s image read: Y/n L/n—2012 & 2016 Olympic Champion, 2018 Gold Medalist: Balance Beam Age: 23 Hometown: Lemoore, CA, USA

They all gasped when Y/n fell, wincing at her leg twisting in a nasty angle. Bob leaped from his seat, hands in his hair and eyes full of horror. “Oh my God. Shit, shit, shit.” He sat back down, muttering so low Nat could barely make out, “C’mon, Y/n. Get up. Get up, baby.” She had to hold in her own reaction at the pet name directed at one of the best gymnasts in the world. ‘No fucking way I just heard that.’

Together they witnessed the athlete hauled off the mat, pain coating their entire being. It appeared she was saying, “My knee. It’s my knee.” Payback whistled, shaking his head, “That’s not good. She could’ve easily tore her ACL right there. Shit, that’s literally a career ending injury.” He should know, playing football all through high school and college, Ruben was accustomed to seeing it happen regularly.

No one besides Phoenix picked up on the fact Bob was internally losing his mind. Phone in his hand, he looked like he was wanting to make a call, but couldn’t at that moment. Then he kept tapping it to check for messages that were not coming. Nat wanted to ask what was up, but he was in no state to talk.

Soon their break ended and the competition continued. With shaky hands Bob packed up his laptop and hdmi cord. The tv was switched off and the others left the lounge to get ready for afternoon training. Nat stood at the door waiting for him, expecting Bob to be behind her when she heard his frantic voice. “Mike.” Nat turned to find her WSO speaking into his phone, back turned from her. He was speaking in a hushed voice, but the quiet atmosphere carried his voice. “How is she? Where are you guys at?” There was a pause, the person on the opposite end talking. Bob let out a sigh of relief, hand going to the bridge of his nose. “How long will it take before she’s fully healed?……9 months?—but that’ll be May she’s—….….that’s gonna put her out of the trials……fuck,” water lined his eyes. Bob’s heart was breaking for his girlfriend.

Behind him Nat was in a state of disbelief. Everything Bob said confirmed her suspicions.

He was dating Y/n L/n.

“Okay,” he sniffed, “Thanks for telling me, Mike, I really really appreciate it. When do you think she’ll be discharged?…Okay…..Um, just keep me updated and have her call me when she wakes up. I’ll see you soon…okay, bye.” Bob hangs up, placing the phone in his pocket and freezing when he sees he wasn’t alone. His face goes pale, “N-nat. Shit. U-uh how..how much did you hear.”

Her expression is sympathetic. “Enough.” Bob’s shoulders slump at the answer. “I won’t tell anyone,” she promises, tone apologetic, “I can tell no one was supposed to find out. I’m really sorry for not saying something—I was waiting for you and …well I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Distressed, Bob tries to make a joke but it comes out choked, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Checking the time he saw they were about to be late, “We better get going. I-I’ll answer any questions you have later, but please Nat don’t say anything. We—,” he was referring to him and Y/n, “we didn’t want me to be associated with her publicly yet because of this job-in case it compromised me. Only our families and her coaches know we’re together.”

“I promise,” Nat gave her word. “Your secret is safe with me, Bob.”

After training, Bob and Nat met up in the same lounge and basically told her his entire love story with Y/n. Nat couldn’t help but feel so happy for her backseater, seeing the love for Y/n radiate off him. The pilot hoped she’d get the chance to meet her one day. When Bob told Nat of Y/n’s condition, the woman became saddened—silently praying Y/n would have a speedy recovery. Just the way Bob explained it was enough for Phoenix to gather Y/n’s dream of the Tokyo Olympics were over.

It was during their conversation Y/n finally called Bob, the WSO rushing to answer it. Nat stayed silent, waiting patiently though she did raise her brows when he suggested leaving Fightertown. Whatever Y/n was saying must’ve talked some sense into him. After he hung up Nat asked, “Why didn’t you tell her that I know—.”

“I’ll tell her when she gets here,” Bob gently cut her off. “She sounded exhausted and I can tell she’s heartbroken.” His head dropped slightly. “This was her last shot at making the All-Around next year if she qualified. It’s everything to her, Nat—and her injury is gonna put her out of the VISA championships and then it'll be too close for her to even rehabilitate it in time for the trials.” Bob felt his eyes water, a tear threatening to escape. It was a loss for him. Together he shared Y/n’s dreams and aspirations. All he wanted was for them to come true after she’s dedicated years of her life for one moment. It hurt him to know it wouldn’t happen.

“I don’t want to upset her any further than she already is,” he said after a moment. “Wednesday night she’ll land at SAN with her coaches, and I’ll explain to her then—she and I had already discussed introducing each other to our friends, wanting to wait after I finished here, so I’m sure she’s not going to be mad just…surprised.”

Wednesday night Bob raced to the address Y/n sent him. It was a duplex beach house Airbnb so her coaches settled on one side and Y/n on the other. On crutches, Bob was careful when he took her into his arms. After several minutes of consoling Y/n, both grieving the loss of the Tokyo Games, Bob told the gymnast about Nat.

She wasn’t upset, in fact she felt a light weight off her shoulder. It felt nice to have someone other than their families knowing——like they weren’t harboring a dirty secret. Then when the two met the next day, Y/n was instantly drawn to the aviator. They talked for hours, with Nat offering condolences to the gymnast. It was an instant click for the Olympian and pilot, both bonding over dedicating years of their life to their dreams and making them happen. Not to mention Nat was a gymnast at one point so they talked about the sport a bit with Y/n answering questions the woman had.

Y/n didn’t meet the rest of the detachment until after Bob returned from the Uranium mission. When he got picked it was a tearful goodbye the night before he was set to leave. Bob couldn’t go into much detail, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it either. He was honest about the seriousness of the mission, which had the Olympian scared to death.

“Promise you’ll come back to me,” she sniffed, head laid on Bob’s chest as they laid on the bed. He was cradling her, running fingers through her hair in comfort. Pressing a kiss to her forehead he whispered, “I promise, baby. I’ll be back before you know it. And together we will get through this—I’ll be there every step of the way,” before kissing her lips.

Neither no longer cared about hiding the relationship when Bob called her days later to say the mission was a success. Y/n was at the docks when the ship returned, on crutches and limping to him as she spotted him.

“Guys…..” Fanboy trailed off, catching the attention of his fellow pilots. “Did I go into G-Loc, or am I right when I say I see Bob kissing that gymnast we were watching with him the other week?” Everyone minus Phoenix jaws dropped.

“What the fuck?” “So he just casually decided to leave out that day Y/n L/n is his girlfriend?” “What a guy—my man pulled an Olympian.”

Hangman let out a whistle, “Whatever game Baby on board has I want some of it.”

The next year and a half was a nutshell. The dagger squad became a little family with Y/n calling them some of her best friends. They were her cheerleaders during her recovery, motivating her to get back into training—for months she was unsure if it was worth it.

It was an emotional moment when she finally did decide. It was March 2020, the world was in a crisis. And it was likely to be announced that the Olympic Games would not take place that year. Instead, they would commence in 2021, giving Y/n a whole year to prepare. There were still stories being written about her—commentators counting down the days she would announce her retirement. Opinions of her supporters were mixed, some hoping she’d come back while others didn’t believe Y/n had it in her to go for a third Olympic team. Every comment, every opinion, every expectation, was starting to take a toll on the gymnast. The confidence was slipping.

Bob had cupped her face in his hands, tears streaming down her cheeks as he said with absolute love in his voice, “Look at me. You are the most dedicated, hardworking, driven and inspiring person I’ve ever met. Screw what everyone is saying—You are one of the greatest gymnasts to exist. The best there ever is on the uneven bars. Baby you’ve made history. And anything you set your mind to can be done. You did in 2016, when everyone thought it wasn’t possible, and you can do it again, Y/n. You can make this team. You can get to the All-Around. You can get the gold. I believe in you, your supporters believe in you, your parents, your coaches. We all believe you can do it. You have to believe in yourself, Y/n. Tokyo is in your grasp, you just have to take it.”

Everyday during lockdown Y/n was in the gym with only her coaches and sometimes Bob. Classes & training for gymnasts were put on hiatus until the end of summer. From 6am to 11am and 1pm to sometimes 9pm Y/n was nonstop running routines and conditioning until the sweat dripped from her forehead and her body ached. At least once a week she’d end practice just crying to feel a release of stress. Her ACL was healed, her personal trainer focusing on getting the muscle back into competitive ability. They were taking it day by day. The last thing they needed was to be back at square one.

Some days were hard. Those were the ones that had Y/n questioning everything. But with Bob and her support system by her side, Y/n was determined. It was a long and harsh battle with many obstacles, but it was all worth it when Y/n’s was one of fifteen gymnasts competing at the U.S Olympic Team Trials in June 2021. One year after a global pandemic shut down the world and pushed back the world’s sporting greatest stage, Y/n was back again at the place that started it all. The only difference now was she was older, a highly decorated athlete…..and a married woman.

Bob had popped the question on their three-year anniversary, the two officially tying the knot at the beginning of 2021 before a small group of close friends and family. Coming into the trials, her name on the roster and title card for commentators now read Y/n L/n-Floyd, but most people still referred to her as just Y/n L/n. Her ring was often tucked away in her bag or worn around Bob’s neck whenever she competed. It sucked to not wear it, but the only jewelry allowed in competition were simple stud earrings.

He wasn’t alone in the stands. With him were not only Y/n’s parents and coach Mary Taylor, but his parents, Daisy, and the dagger squad. It was quite the sight when Y/n was performing. They were the loudest in their section, sitting between the bars and floor to get a good view of the whole arena. What made it more amusing, was the cameraman loved to capture their reactions.

“Y/n L/n, the ‘Queen of the Uneven Bars’—or should I say Y/n L/n-Floyd now, the two-time Olympian got married to her longtime boyfriend, naval aviator, Lieutenant Robert Floyd this past January—is set to go on bars in the second rotation of today’s trials. It’s a full circle moment for husband and wife. The two met five years ago at the 2016 U.S team trials for the Rio de Janeiro Games. Then nearly one year later they ran into each other in her hometown of Lemoore. Lemoore is the home of Naval Air Station Lemoore where Robert became stationed at, and the two hit it off. They kept the relationship hidden for a year but Robert’s identity was discreet until roughly the beginning of 2020 when they officially went public.”

“It’s so surreal to think we’ve pretty much watched Y/n grow up. She was 14 when we first met her in 2010 on the junior national team, going on to become a two-time Olympian with the most gold medals of any American gymnast. Now she’s a grown woman and married—the trials have been the sight of big milestones for the athlete. She met her future husband here and accomplished a lifelong dream twice. This past January the two got married, and Y/n has said her husband has been her #1 motivator on her journey back into gymnastics after the injury that could have very well been career ending……oh! It looks like Y/n’s got the green light from the judge, and we’re gonna switch our coverage now to a split screen—we got a mic on Robert Floyd, let’s hear how he reacts to this routine.” For anyone watching at home, their screen showed Y/n saluting the judge on one side, and Bob rubbing his hands on the other.

He sat between Nat and Rooster, his and Y/n’s families right behind them. Fanboy, Payback, Hangman, and Coyote were placed beside Nat and Rooster, leaving Bob directly in the middle of their entire group. They all cheered when the announcer introduced the gymnast—the crowd around them louder than ever, “On the uneven bars, from Taylor’s Elite Gymnastics in Lemoore, California, Y/n L/n!” All were on the edge of their seats as Y/n began the routine. With a microphone attached to his shirt, viewers of the live feed got to hear them up close and personal. Especially Bob.

“C’mon, Y/n. C’mon. Nice….steady now, don’t rush it…..good good,” Bob held his breath on her big release combo, practically leaning into Rooster. “Yeah! Okay now hit those handstands…..perfect. C’mon, Y/n, you got this. Don’t think just do,” he clapped his hands, now leaning more toward Nat. “You own this dismount, Y/n, show ‘em how it’s done. Let’s go. Stick it—stick it!” Rooster held his shoulder, Bob doing the same to him, both hovering over their seats. When Y/n stuck the landing they all launched up, “YEAHHHH!!!!”

It was absolutely dreamlike when at the end of day two, Y/n’s name was called among the three other gymnasts selected to represent Team USA at the Tokyo Olympics. Never had she reacted the way she did at previous trials. A scream had actually escaped her, “OH MY GOD!”

Mike rushed to embrace her and the two jumped up and down while crying. At the end of her floor routine, Y/n was standing at #3 in the ranks… but unlike in the 90s where whoever took the top positions in the standings were the ones selected, only the top gymnast overall was automatically part of the team. The other spots would be determined by several members of the board. One could be in the top five, but not be selected because someone was stronger in certain apparatus that they were confident would bring a medal. It was how Y/n made it to London. She was ranked #6 out of 15 when the London team trials had finished. Her vaults and floor were weak but it was the fact she was a world champion on bars with very valued bars and beam routines that had the selection committee choose her.

Now 9 years later, Yn had the most difficult bars routine in the whole damn world, a high valued beam routine and even a high valued, very difficult, vault named after her. But her floor was still weak, with a start value of 4.9. If she were to mess up on all the other events horribly, one mistake on floor would cost her medal contention. Her fate was up to the committee once again.

The entire section with her friends and family exploded when the team selections were announced by none other than USA gymnastics hall of famer and member of the 1996 Magnificent Seven, Shannon Miller. Bob jumped from his seat, as did the squad with Y/n’s mother collapsing into her fathers arms. Mary was in hysterics, Daisy screaming at the top of her lungs, and the dagger squad just going crazy. As Y/n ran up the stairs onto the floor to wave to the crowd, the guys were whistling and hollering, meanwhile Bob and Nat were wiping away tears. Bob was an actual mess, not caring to show his emotion. He was absolutely over the moon.

Y/n was going to Tokyo.

“Well there you have it folks. Your Tokyo Olympics women’s U.S gymnastics team. A combination of new and old faces: Jordan Chiles and Sunisa Lee making their Olympic debut, with veterans Simone Biles and Y/n L/n returning to the stage again. The defending All-Around champion aiming to make history as the first American to win the title in back-to-back Games, and the first gymnast since Dominique Dawes to qualify for a third consecutive Olympic team. An exciting Games is ahead of us. Simone Biles, the greatest of all time, looking to repeat her Rio glory. And Y/n L/n, the queen of the uneven bars, could very well become the first gymnast in history to win the gold three times in a row in the individual event finals.

After the celebration, Y/n ran past security to climb up the railing where her loved ones were seated. Bob took the bouquet of flowers she was holding, passing it to Nat before hauling Y/n over the railing. Everyone around her cheered, whistled and beamed at the sight of husband and wife.

“You did it,” Bob praised, tone filled with emotion. The gymnast was crying into his neck. “I knew you could do it, Y/n. I’m so fucking proud of you—you were incredible, darlin’. Beyond incredible.”

Unfortunately, unlike the trials Bob and the team plus their families would not be able to travel with Y/n to Tokyo. Strict regulations were in place for the Games, with only coaches and athletes permitted to attend. No spectators would be allowed in arenas except for the media, volunteers, and medics. Bob kissed Y/n passionately when he dropped her off at the airport.

“I wish you could come with me,” she mumbled with teary eyes, Bob caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, baby,” he told her, kissing her forehead. “I hate that I can’t be there with you. But remember, I’m gonna be cheering you on from here every second you’re on that mat and even after you’ve stepped off. I’ll be up every morning to watch it live—yes I know that’ll be three in the morning but I don’t care. I’m watching every minute. Before you know it, that gold medal will be in your hands and you’ll be coming home an Olympic champion.”

Y/n nuzzled her face in Bob’s neck, tightening her arms around him. They remained that way until she had to check into TSA. It was a tearful goodbye, the two kissing one last time saying, “I love you,” and Y/n promising to call him when she lands. He watched her go, blowing a kiss to her when she got to the end of the line and was out of his sight. Bob would’ve left the airport, but Phoenix and Rooster would be landing within the next hour so he ended up waiting for them. Payback, Fanboy, Hangman and Coyote would be coming in either that night or the next morning. Maverick was even planning to travel to Lemoore, driving up from San Diego Friday night to make it time for opening ceremonies.

Like previous Games Y/n and the gymnasts were not at the opening ceremonies. Unfortunately it was always like that because gymnastics took place the first week of the Olympics with podium training in the days leading up to the opening ceremonies. The night after the celebration of the Games beginning were qualifications and therefore the gymnasts were in bed early to get a good night's rest before competition. It saddened Y/n a bit to be missing her last opening ceremonies, but she looked forward to the closing in two weeks—there was already talk she would be chosen as the USA’s closing flag bearer.

When comparing her nerves coming into qualifications, Y/n would rank it higher than in London and Rio combined. This was it. This was the moment she had been working her ass off the last year for. When everyone thought she would be retired, here she was. Back on the Olympic stage for one last shot at making the All-Around finals.

She could not mess up, not again. Four years and the floor routine still haunted her. It was her weakest event. She needed to hit every skill, stay in bounds, and remain focused.

But she also had a job to do, and that was to do her part on the team and get them to the final. She was captain. The other girls looked to her for advice and support as it was difficult without friends and family in the arena. Only Mike Taylor, Y/n’s lifelong coach, was with them during the qualifications and would be for the finals. During the event finals, for whoever qualified, they would have their personal coach with them. Mental health was a big priority in these Games, and Y/n made it her mission to have a one-on-one with everyone before each competition. This was a sport where one had to be at their best mental state. If not, it could lead to mistakes and injuries—-they’d been so many gymnasts over the decades who got career ending injuries, became paralyzed, and even died because they were not mentally or physically in shape. She be damned if she allowed one of her girls to get on the mat when she knows something was wrong.

As the #1 team in the world coming in after the 2019 World Championships, USA was to start their Olympics once again on the vault. Every Olympic Games was different in some way. In London and Rio the teams were a five-woman squad, but in Tokyo they were four. The Code of Points had changed again following Rio, an example was the Amânar now held a start value of 5.8. Back when Y/n was in London, it was 6.5 before dropping to 6.3 in Rio.

The triple twisting Yurchenko, named the L/n, held a start value of 6.4 along with the Produnova. Y/n was the only one attempting her own vault in the qualifications, but it was decided she would do the Amânar in the final. It was the safer option.

It was an odd feeling saluting the judge without the full audience of spectators. The only sounds that could be heard were the other girls cheering from the side. Like every routine she did her ritual: two licks to each thumb, a single clap and a deep breath. Y/n didn’t think as she hauled ass down the runway, just let her body do the work. Trusting it wouldn’t let her down.

That was all she thought of the entire competition. Trusting her body that put blood, sweat, and tears for one moment in time. She knew Bob and their families were watching from home, motivating her even more to not let them down. Picturing them in the stands pushed her to give it her all each rotation.

And if fucking paid off.

When her eyes landed on the board following the end of rotation four, Y/n spun around, eyes shutting as she screamed before sinking to her knees. Mike shouted in excitement, literally running down the side and pumping his fist in the air. The cameraman chased after him, before closing in on Y/n as she cried into her hands. Qualifications were done, the results were in.

Y/n was through to the Women's All-Around Final. Her name was beside the #2 ranking beneath Simone.

“Wow, wow, wow. Redemption has been earned for Y/n L/n of the United States. Look at that reaction, the gold medalist is on the ground—overcome with emotion no doubt. Two years ago her dreams of these Games were nearly shattered when she tore her ACL at the 2019 World Championships. It would’ve put her out of the trials, but the Covid-19 pandemic pushed the Olympics back one year giving the athlete time to fully recover and train for this moment right here. She must be over the moon—her teammates are coming around to congratulate her and Simone Biles. Coach Mike Taylor is absolute joy— *chuckles*—I think he’s even more excited than Y/n honestly. Four years ago Y/n was the #3 overall ranking in the All-Around qualifications, but due to the two-per-country rule she was pushed out of contention —Aly Raisman going on to take the silver medal next to Simone Biles. Not here in Tokyo.”

“Unfortunately for Suni Lee and Jade Carey they will not get the chance at All-Around gold despite being in the top 10 overall—as the two-per-country rule we know pushes them out. Their Tokyo Games will not be over, however, Lee has qualified for the individual beam and bars final, Carey on the floor exercise. Along with the All-Around, Simone Biles has qualified for individual beam, floor, and vault. And it’s uneven bars again for Y/n L/n. Unfortunately she will not get the chance at a third gold for the balance beam, but I feel she’s okay with that. For the first time the three-time Olympian, four-time World All-Around silver medalist will get to compete Thursday night in the Olympic All-Around event for women’s artistic gymnastics. And Simone Biles will be going for the gold once again.”

Back home in Lemoore the scene was insane. It was pushing 3 am, the sun not even out yet, but the friends, families, and former teammates of Y/n had gathered in Taylor’s Elite Gymnastics to watch the live coverage of Team USA’s qualification round. Y/n’s dad was kind enough to bring his 70 inch flat screen TV to hook up right next to the floor. There was a coffee bar set out, some breakfast food and tucked away were bottles of champagne for if celebrations were in order. It was mostly adults watching the qualifications, save for Bob’s sister Daisy, however it was expected for the final competitions that residents and their children would come out to watch the coverage.

When the competition ended the screen was focused on Y/n the moment it captured her reaction. Everyone was at first worried but then the title card appeared: #2– L/N-FLOYD, Y/n (USA) Overall Total: 57.491

Everyone went wild, Bob nearly falling from his chair while the guys all jumped up and down, “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!!!” “SHE DID IT!!” “OH MY GOD!!” Y/n’s mom and coach Mary collapsed in each other’s arms while her dad celebrated with Bob and his dad. Daisy was crying, overwhelmed with happiness for her sister-in-law and idol. Y/n’s former teammates from her years on the national team were also in tears. Her sweet husband Bob had his face in his hands, consumed with emotion while his friends all patted his back and celebrated around him. The love of his life had fulfilled her dream. She was going to the All-Around competition for the first time in her final Olympic Games.

But before that could happen they had the team final. Team USA were #2 coming into the competition, just short of the ROC by a couple points after a few errors during the qualifications. Three gymnasts of the four would compete, all three scores counting to the overall. Just like in Rio the captain kicked off the USA on vault, bringing in a score of 14.328 after taking a big hop on the landing. Jordan came through with their highest at 14.666, and then Simone had a huge error when she not only squated, but went forward in a huge step, receiving a 13.766. Her expression was enough for Y/n and the team to see she was not doing good, the captain and coach bringing her over for a one-on-one talk while they waited for the first rotation to end.

In the end, Simone made the wise decision to withdraw from the competition. Safety and her mental well being were the priority. After errors in the qualifications it was the concern of everyone how she was and they were grateful nothing disastrous had taken place. Performing when you're not at your best was dangerous, it was the right decision for Simone to pull out to prevent from hurting herself.

The team all supported the Olympian, giving hugs and promises to get the job done on her behalf. They were going to bring their A-game these last three rotations and hopefully bring a medal regardless of the color.

It was a silver lining moment for Team USA. After a good run on bars Y/n nearly fell off the beam—catching herself in an amazing save without touching the apparatus but enough to throw her off the rest of the routine. It was the lowest score she’d ever received on beam in an Olympics at 14.096 from a start value of 6.1. Then on floor Jordan stepped out of bounds and fell on her third pass resulting in a 11.700. Their total overall was 166.096, the ROC at 169.528.

Despite what commentators were saying, Y/n was not totally heartbroken by the loss. Of course she was for Jordan and Suni not being able to call themselves gold medalists, but she was so proud of them. They had a huge weight on their shoulders by having to do more than what they expected. Jordan competed in every event and Suni had to do floor when she planned only for bars and beam. They’d given it their all and still brought the pressure, making the USA the #2 team in the world. A damn huge accomplishment.

It was a bittersweet moment on the podium. Y/n was now the first American gymnast since Dominique Dawes to medal in three consecutive Olympics. It was odd having to medal themselves due to covid regulations, whereas they would’ve been presented and medaled by members of the IOC and President of the International Gymnastics Committee. They took pictures with the gold and bronze teams before post-podium ceremony interviews. Y/n was pulled over by a reporter she’d recognized since the London Games, a barrier separating them, “Hi! Oh my goodness it’s you again!”

The reporter was just as excited, “Hello, Y/n! Lovely to see you again in these Olympic Games—your third and final, gosh I already know it’s going to be a sad loss to the sport when this competition concludes.” Y/n has to place a hand on her chest to keep it together, heart slightly breaking. “You’ve now added a silver medal to your Olympic collection and you got two more events ahead of you—including the All-Around competition. What’s going through your mind right now?”

Y/n let’s out a shaky breath under her mask, “Well, it’s definitely hard to put into words. I’m so proud of the girls tonight—they gave it their best with what was handed to them. I’m so proud of Simone especially, taking a step back is a very hard thing to do when you got a gold medal on the line for a team competition, but one has to do what is best for them—and I’m so happy she did put herself first. This is a sport where it’s dangerous to not be at your best mental state. She’s got my full support on whatever she plans to do regarding the other events she’s qualified for, and I hope people watching at home can respect her decision as well.” The athlete pauses before commenting on the All-Around.

“The All-Around…..I’m just beyond words. This was something I have spent my entire career training for. London I didn’t even do the qualifications for it and then missed out by a small margin in Rio, so this is a really big accomplishment for me. I really thought this would never happen after the 2019 World Championships—I really was on the verge of retiring in 2020. It’s crazy to think that had these Games taken place when they should have, I would not be standing in front of you,” Y/n smiled beneath her mask, eyes crinkling, “My family and friends pretty much are the ones responsible for getting me here. My husband, Bob, has been my rock—pushing me to get out in the gym, knowing how much this moment would mean to me. My parents and coaches have been there since the beginning—I owe this all to them. I’m….I’m just so excited and honored to have this opportunity. It’s been a long and hard couple years so the fact it paid off is amazing.”

The reporter beams, “Well all your supporters feel the same and we will be cheering you on Thursday night as well as Sunday when you make your final Olympic appearance for the uneven bars final. Congratulations to you and the girls on winning the silver, and we’ll see you back here in the arena Thursday night.”

That night Y/n had a quick phone call with Bob, the aviator gushing to his wife of how proud he was of her. God how she wished he could be there with her. Cheering from the stands before hitting the streets of Tokyo to explore. Celebrating the win of the team silver medal and her All-Around qualification. Bob wished it too, but unfortunately a global virus had to ruin their experience. Still, Bob made his love and admiration for Y/n known and told her he’d be up at the ass crack of dawn to watch the All-Around live with their entire squad.

Thursday July 29th, 2021–Tokyo, Japan, 8:45 pm — 6:45 EST/ 3:45 am PST

Women’s Artistic Gymnastics All-Around Final

Rotation One: Vault

“Good morning folks at home, welcome back to our live coverage of the Women’s All-Around final in artistic gymnastics. We took a short break and now we’re wrapping up the warm up for rotation one. Americans Y/n L/n and Suni Lee, the #1 and 3 qualifiers after Simone Biles withdrew from the competition, are starting off their competition on the vault.” A thumbs up from Mike and Y/n was speeding down the runway for her final warmup. She did two twists purposefully catapulting backward to stop the momentum before landing and walking off the mat.

“I’ll tell ya, Andrea, we got quite the final ahead of us. Simone Biles, the reigning Olympic Champion in this event officially withdrew this morning, allowing Suni Lee to take her place. I know we’ve mentioned it several times already but this is the moment veteran Y/n L/n has waited for. She almost didn’t make it to these Games after an injury during the beam final at the World championships in 2019. Now she’ll be the last gymnast to go in the rotation, planning to perform the skill named after her—a triple twisting Yurchenko. Since unveiling it in 2015, Y/n has only ever performed it a handful of times—in team competitions she’s usually doing the popular Amânar. With this vault she does tend to take a hop on the landing, but pulls out a big score and that’s something she’s gonna want to get a good lead ahead of everyone else.”

The warm up ended and Y/n took a seat beside her bag doing what she normally did, keeping her eyes away from her competitors. She did cheer on Suni, and then it was her turn to go. Mike patted her shoulder, pep talk brief and Y/n was on the mat saluting the judge. Her heart was pumping, but she took a deep breath after her pre-routine ritual and sped down the runway. Next thing she knew she was spinning in the air, landing with her arms raised and muttering a ‘holy shit’.

“It’s now time for American Y/n L/n. 2015 World Champion in the vault and you’re about to see why. The fan favorite to win tonight—it’s been a long journey to get to this moment. She’s got the green light…..here we go—big, big vault—named after her and gave her a World title in 2015—triple twisting Yurchenko called the L/n……..AND SHE STICKS IT! Holy mackerel that was amazing!! Wonderful start for Y/n L/n—that is going to be a big score. Her chest was low which will be a slight deduction but wow that landing.”

What a landing indeed. Y/n was grinning wide, completely blown away she stuck the vault for the first time ever. Back home the entire gym was on their feet, the cheers becoming louder when the score came back a 15.902. That score alone would likely be the highest for vault in the whole competition, putting Y/n at a great lead at the end of rotation one. NBC had sent a news crew to attend the watch party, hoping to catch the reactions of Y/n’s friends and family during the duration of the meet.

Rotation Two: Uneven Bars

“Coming into the second rotation of this All-Around final, American Y/n L/n is at the top of the leaderboard with Brazil’s Rebeca Andrade not too far behind. Suni Lee is sitting in fourth, but that could very well change at the end of this event; the uneven bars.”

With a start value of 7.5, Y/n’s routine was the most difficult of any other gymnast. The Code of Points had changed the values of a lot of skills after Rio, just like it did with London, but Y/n still made sure to have the highest valued bar routine. This was her event. The one that brought her seven consecutive World titles, two Olympic gold medals, and named her the ‘Queen of the Uneven Bars.’ Even with a fall she could very well medal.

Placed in the middle of the lineup, Y/n waited roughly 15 minutes after warm up had ended to get on the mat. Saluting the judge she got straight to the routine, doing her ritual of course. It was a long routine but it seemed to go quickly. Y/n, however, was shaky and didn’t hit the handstands as great and slightly stumbled backward on the landing of her J-valued dismount. Each little step would be deductions, but at least she didn’t fall on her ass.

“16.200 for Y/n L/n. Not her best routine on the bars with that high of a start value—she didn’t hit the handstands like she usually did, but still a big score thanks to that start value of 7.5. She stumbled quite a bit on that landing, which no one can really blame her for. It's a very hard dismount—the one she created and got named after herself at the Games in Rio. She’ll likely still be in the lead following this the end of the rotation, but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves there’s still the beam and floor.”

Y/n was really feeling the pressure, slightly disappointed with her bars routine. It wasn’t her best at all, her qualification score higher than what she had just received. But the gymnast couldn’t let her head start doubting her now. Two events were left and one of them was her weakest, the other her second strongest.

Rotation Three: Balance Beam

With a start value of 6.1, Y/n and Suni both held the highest valued beam routines in the competition. The apparatus that Y/n had two Olympic gold medals and two World titles to had been given her trouble in Tokyo. She didn’t qualify for the beam final, stumbling on her landing and missing a turn which lessened her start value. Then in the team final she nearly lost footing and fell off, catching herself without touching the beam. Flashbacks to the 2019 World’s had flashed through her mind. It scared her shitless at the possibility of retearing her ACL. Which is probably what spooked Y/n and made her stumble.

Something in Y/n’s gut told her it was going to be the same here. Anxiety was starting to rise, the gymnast battling her inner thought to focus.

“As you can see Y/n L/n is deep in her thoughts, waiting for her turn on balance beam. I wouldn’t be surprised if she's thinking about Tuesday night’s team final or the 2019 World championships. This is the event that nearly ended her career, despite it being one of her strongest apparatuses—two Olympic and two Worlds gold medals for the gymnast in the past decade.”

Unfortunately, Y/n’s intuition was right and beam was a disaster. Not only did she take a fall, but her hand touched the apparatus as well. Both worth a whole point in deductions. The whole reason she touched it was to prevent the same thing from 2019 happening, not doing so would have likely destroyed her knee. Y/n tightened her lips, not showing a reaction and simply got back up.

Her heart was pounding, but she only had a few more jumps, a spin, and a back tuck before dismounting. When she did dismount another big deduction would come at the hop and step to catch herself. Now that her routine was over the gymnast couldn’t do anything besides exhale and let it go to prep for floor. Mike embraced her, mumbling words of encouragement and patting Y/n on the back. She didn’t look at the scoreboard and ignored the clicking of the photographers as she downed a water bottle. Suni came over and gave her a hug, Y/n smiling at wishing her luck on her routine.

“Gosh that was not good for Y/n L/n. Major deductions are to be expected from that routine. You know she had been having trouble on the balance beam the entire Games—even in podium training she wasn’t as sharp as she normally was. I can’t imagine what was running through her mind. It looked like it was the same skill that nearly ended her career two years ago, and she was trying to prevent her leg from twisting into the mat upon landing and that’s why she let her hands hit the beam to catch herself. Such an unfortunate mistake for the three-time Olympian…..and oof 12.331. That’s the lowest score I’ve ever seen from Y/n—not counting the 2019 Worlds.”

“Not sure if that’s gonna keep her lead at the end of this rotation, Allen. She had an amazing start on vault, did great on the bars, but the floor is her weakest. Her start value is the lowest compared to the other gymnasts at a 4.9–there’s no room for error going further in this event. Had Y/n pulled out a big score here on beam, the gold medal would’ve been hers without a doubt. Now we really have a competition going into the final rotation.”

It felt like the world had stopped for Bob when his wife fell off the beam. The feelings he had from 2019 resurfaced, literally making his hands shake. A sigh of relief escaped him when Y/n immediately got back up and finished the routine, but he could tell in her expression she was shaken. The gymnast was doing her best to not let it show how it was affecting her, but Bob knew her better than that.

“Goddamn, that was close,” Coyote shook his head, remembering the first time he watched Y/n on the beam. It was like deja vu. “What a hell of a save.”

“I think I almost shit my pants just now,” Rooster commented, causing Nat to give him a, ‘wtf,’ look, but then Bob voiced the same and she had to hold back from rolling her eyes—although deep down she nearly had a heart attack.

When the score came back a lot of people made sounds of distress. Bob was seen scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, pressing numbers on his phone calculator. After a moment he rubbed a hand over his face, “her total so far is 44.433.”

“How much does she need to win?” Fanboy asked him.

“We won’t know until everyone else has gone. Suni’s got a start value of 5.6 on floor, the Brazilian gymnast a 5.9. Y/n’s is low at 4.9. She can’t make a single mistake otherwise she could likely get out of medal contention.”

Rotation Four: Floor Exercise

The nerves were starting to become nauseating. As the #1 qualifier coming into the All-Around after Simone’s withdrawal, Y/n would be the final gymnast to compete. Floor exercise. The final event and Y/n’s weakest for as long as she could remember. She was a powerful tumbler, but had trouble controlling the power and often would fall, step out of bounds, or take big hops on landings.

“It is the final rotation in the Women’s All-Around Final at the Tokyo Olympic Games. The Americans, Suni Lee and Y/n L/n will be ending the competition on floor exercise. Boy it’s going to be interesting folks, after the third rotation on the balance beam Y/n is now in second position behind Brazil’s Rebeca Andrade and Suni Lee in third. Anything can happen now.”

It was a long wait.

The last of eight gymnasts to compete, Y/n paced on the floor back and forth to pass time and fight the battle in her head. She didn’t want to know her standings nor did she want to know how much she needed to win. When it came to be her turn, Y/n would go out there, perform the best she could, and wait for the judges to decide her fate. Even when there was a light gasp from the few spectators in the crowd when Rebeca Andrade was up, Y/n didn’t turn around.

Part of her wondered what Bob and their friends were thinking. They’d know what she needed before she did. All she could do was pray and trust her body to get the job done. Like she always did.

“Fuck,” Bob cursed, surprising many of his colleagues. His eyes were on the pencil scribbled numbers he had just written down on the notepad. “She needs higher than a 13 to win.” After Brazil’s Rebeca Andrade, the standings were as followed:

Suni Lee at #1 with an overall total of 57.433

Rebeca Andrade at #2 with an overall total of 57.298

And Angelina Melkinova of the ROC at #3 with an overall total of 57.199.

Regardless of the score Y/n pulls out, Suni and Rebeca were guaranteed a spot on the podium. What color? That was about to be determined.

“There was a slight delay in scoring for floor, vault had already completed their rotation, bars and beam finished up just a moment ago. Everyone’s focused on the gymnast about to do the last floor routine of her gymnastics career. All eyes on Y/n L/n.” With the camera panned on Y/n, the title card read: Needs at least a 13.001 to take the gold. The entire gym held their breath when the at the sound of a beep, signaling the beginning of her floor music.

Moment of truth for the three-time Olympic gymnast. It would all come down to the 90 seconds ahead of her.

For her last Olympic Games, Y/n wanted to go out with an emotional goodbye when it came to her floor music. When she found the music piece on YouTube, it brought to tears and Y/n thought ‘it’s perfect’. Crying at the end of her routine was expected. It was only fitting to do so knowing it would be the last time she stepped on the floor.

Y/n thought back to that memory of her sitting in front of the tv in 2004. A little girl with a dream.

‘Don’t think,’ Bob’s voice sounded in her mind, ‘just do.’

The music started and Y/n did what she did best. She trusted herself.

Memories of her career flashed before her with every spin, every pirouette, every tumble pass. The first mommy and me class when she was 5 years old. Her first time balancing on the beam, the first time she pulled herself up on the bar. Dancing to each corner, Y/n could remember the excitement each time she stepped on the mat. How nervous she was at her first meet. Happiness at winning her first junior national title.

Making the junior national team at 14.

Making the senior international team at 15.

Competing at her first World Championships. Winning the gold on the bars. Her first of seven.

Making the London Olympic team at 16. Being part of the gold medal winning team. Becoming the Olympic Champion of the bars and beam.

Becoming World Champion of the beam at 17. Claiming the World All-Around silver at 18 & 19. Becoming World Champion of the vault and having the triple twisting Yurchenko named after her at 19.

Making the Rio de Janeiro team at 20. Meeting the man who would become her husband at the trials.

Winning the team gold for a second consecutive time. Making history as the first American woman to win back-to-back individual gold on the bars and beam.

Reclaiming the World beam gold at 21 and the World All-Around Silver at 21 & 23. Becoming a seven-time World champion of the uneven bars at 23.

Came close to retiring after a near career-ending injury at 23. Made a comeback at 25 and qualified for her third consecutive Olympic Games.

Reuniting with Bob at 21. Falling in love with him at 22. Marrying him at 24 to become his life partner.

Qualifying for the All-Around final in her last Olympic Games.

Y/n L/n would go down in history regardless of the outcome of this floor routine. So what better way than to finish the last All-Around competition of her life by having fun. Even if she didn’t make the podium, it would be okay.

She did the impossible when not many thought she could.

When the music ended and Y/n exhaled, she felt the lone tear slip from her eye. The sight in front her was every athlete, coach, and spectator on their feet clapping for her. Even some of the floor judges gave nods of respect when she saluted, in the distance the judges from the beam clapped with soft smiles. And when Y/n looked to the floor below, she spotted some of her competitors, including Suni, wiping away tears.

“And so Y/n L/n takes her final bow on the floor. The last time we will ever see her in an All-Around competition—what a beautiful way to go out. It’s hard to say if it will be enough for the gold. But regardless, the 25-year-old from Lemoore, California has embedded her legacy in Tokyo as one of the greatest gymnasts in the history of the sport.”

Coming down from the mat, Y/n waved to the small group of spectators including Team USA who were still whistling and cheering before she was met with the open embrace of her coach since childhood, Mike Taylor. His eyes were rimmed, indicating he’d been crying causing Y/n’s lip to quiver. “That was the most beautiful floor routine you’ve ever done, my little powerhouse. Beautiful.” Suni came over, Y/n immediately going to hug her as they waited for the score to come. The veteran gymnast told Suni how proud she was of her, letting her know it was an honor to compete alongside and against her. They’d known each other since Suni’s debut on the national team, and Y/n had immense respect for her as an athlete.

Several other gymnasts and their coaches came over to offer kind words. Many of them had been watching Y/n on the international level since 2011 before they had come onto the stage.

It was a bittersweet scene. Not only in the Tokyo dome, but also in Lemoore. There was not a dry eye in sight when Y/n landed her final tumbling pass. Several people, including Nat, Daisy, Y/n’s parents and former teammates and Bob were pretty much sobbing. There was a camera crew from NBC there to capture their reactions—no doubt going to have it shown on live tv when the competition ended.

No one could predict what would happen next.

The camera had paned to Y/n and Suni talking after several of the other competitors had exchanged words with the gymnast. A moment later a woman, one of the floor judges, was rushing up to them.

“Turn it up!” Payback yelled and the person closest to the TV increased the volume. They all watched as the woman pulled the two athletes and their coaches away from the group, cameraman getting close to hear the details.

“It appears one floor judges has some news for both Americans, let’s listen in to see what’s happening,” the commentator's voice was just as confused.

“We wanted to let you both know before the score goes up,” she spoke with an accent, likely Greek or Italian they weren’t exactly sure. “But the score for Mrs. L/n-Floyd looks to be a flat 13.000.” Bob snapped his gaze to the notebook, where the number 13.000 would result in a tie.

Y/n’s expression indicated she realized it too. A shaky hand came up to her chin, eyes in disbelief though she was beginning to grin, “Are you saying we get to share the gold?” Suni’s hands clapped her mouth as she gasped, flicking her attention to Y/n and the judge. Behind them their coaches looked so stressed they were about to become bald.

“Oh my god,” Bob lifted from his chair the same time the commentator said, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We could be looking at history right here.”

The judge gave a slight nod, saying, “If you two have no problem with it—,” both gymnasts were nodding, tears in their eyes threatening to escape. “We want to remain fair as you know.”

“Of course,” Y/n looked at Suni, who mirrored her expression. “History, Suni. We’re Olympic Champions.” The gymnast catapulted in Y/n’s arms the two screaming in delight while their coaches did the same next to them. The judge smiled at the scene, moving to relay the news to the rest as Suni and Y/n sunk to the ground.

The entire gym in Lemoore exploded as the title card appeared on the screen the same time it did on the leaderboard: #1 LEE, Sunisa & L/N-FLOYD, Y/n (USA) TOTAL OVERALL: 57.433

Bob collapsed to the ground, Nat coming over to place her hands on his back in a comforting way while she too was a mess. Maverick came over to the two, patting Bob’s shoulder as he brought Nat into a hug. The commentator's voice could barely be heard with the noise happening in the gym. “I CANNOT BELIEVE IT OH MY GOD—BOTH AMERICANS HAVE TAKEN THE GOLD—FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE HISTORY OF THIS EVENT, THERE HAS BEEN A TIE FOR GOLD IN THE WOMEN’S ALL-AROUND FINAL. SUNI LEE AND Y/N L/N SHARE THE TOP OF THE LEADERBOARD WITH AN OVERALL SCORE OF 57.433. IT IS OLYMPIC HISTORY FOR TEAM USA!!! Y/N L/N IS THE OLYMPIC CHAMPION IN HER FINAL OLYMPIC APPEARANCE! SUNI LEE IN HER OLYMPIC DEBUT IS COMING HOME WITH ALL-AROUND GOLD!”

“OH MY GOD!!” Daisy screamed, jumping up and down with several of the local gymnasts. “She did it! Y/n did it!” The teenager pushed through to embrace her brother, who was still an emotional mess on the floor. Next to the dagger squad Bob and Y/n’s parents were all embraced with coach Mary, mirroring the expression of everyone else. It was a surreal moment as the camera showed Suni and Y/n raising their interlaced hands in the air.

Olympic Champions of the women’s All-Around.

Y/n’s seventh Olympic gold medal.

Before the podium ceremony the live NBC coverage released the reaction of Bob and the gym—which already started to go viral on Twitter, TikTok, and instagram on the NBCOlympics accounts. Bob had fell to his knees, hiding his face, so he missed out on Coyote tripping into Fanboy as they celebrated and fell to the ground. In the corner one could see Y/n’s dad run to the balance beam like he was on ‘The Price is Right,’ before sweeping Y/n’s mom off her feet.

At the podium ceremony, Y/n and Suni held hands, stepping on the platform together with their hands raised as the announcer spoke to the world, “Gold medalists and Olympic Champions, from the United States of America, Y/n L/n-Floyd and Sunisa Lee!” Members of Team USA who showed up to watch the competition were going crazy, the gymnasts in a heap of tears.

When the gold medals were presented to them, Y/n and Suni medaled each other. Y/n took the first gold, placing it around her friend and teammate before Suni did the same to her with the second gold. “Wow what a sight, folks. Truly beautiful to see two people who are not only teammates and competitors, but also friends crown each other as the Olympic Champion of the All-Around. I don’t think we’ll ever see something like this again in an Olympic Games. This is truly history we are witnessing.” The two hugged, muttering congratulations into each other’s ears and beaming beneath the mask when they pulled away to face the flags.

The tears flowed freely for Y/n, the weight of the medal and the sound of the National anthem a reminder that she wasn’t dreaming. She was standing on top of the podium. The gold medalist of the Olympic All-Around.

A dream nearly 20 years in the making since she first watched the Games in Athens at age 8.

In the post-ceremony interview, Y/n was emotional again when the NBC correspondent for the All-Around final showed her the reaction of her loved ones at home. When Bob fell to his knees she had to cover her mouth. “I wish they were here,” she choked, “Ugh it sucks not having them but I love that they were able to watch from home. They are the reason I’m standing here and get to call myself an Olympic champion. It’s their support that’s fueled me the last couple years.”

The reporter gave a sympathetic look, “We actually have a team there with them right now. We’re patching them through right now.”

“Oh my God, really?” Y/n gasped before sobbing when the image on the screen appeared to show her friends and family. They all hollered and cheered, waving frantically at the camera. The gymnast sobbed, waving to the camera, “Oh my God! Mom, dad—Oh Bobby!”

“Oh honey,” he sniffed, the camera focusing on him. “I’m so so proud of you. We’re the moon here—you were so incredible, Y/n. I just can’t put into words how happy I am for you. I love you so much, baby—I can’t say that enough.”

“I love you too! I miss you so much, Bobby. Thank you for being rock and helping everyday in and out of the gym. This gold medal is for you.”

Her parents move to the front. “Sweetheart, your mom and I—I don’t think she can really talk right now,” Y/n laughed at her dad, seeing her mom was still a mess. “We just want to say that we love you so much. You’ve inspired us since you were a little girl and it’s an honor to be your parents.” He had to pause, getting worked up, “We’re so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. I know that you’ve got plans after this and just know we’re going to support you every step of the way.”

Y/n said words of thanks and love to her parents before thanking everyone who showed up to support her. After the call ended the reporter had one last question, “Y/n, you have one last event coming up, the uneven bars final. You’re no doubt the favorite to win—people want to see you make history one last time by becoming the first gymnast from any nation ever to win the title three times in a row. Now you said back in 2016 that whether or not you made this team you’d be retiring. That floor performance tonight definitely felt like a farewell to the sport.” Y/n was slowly nodding with each word, confirming the suspicion. The reporter finally asks, “Once you’ve taken your final step onto the mat Sunday night, will that be the last we see of Y/n L/n in the women’s gymnastics?”

Letting out a shaky breath, feeling the emotion swirl in her chest, Y/n replies, “I am fortunate to say that I have been a part of team USA since I debuted at 15 for my first World’s. Ten years with seven World championships and three Olympic Games—each time coming home with a title, not a lot of people can say that. It’s been an extreme honor……..I crap I knew this was going to be hard,” her vision blurs, “Two years ago I was on the verge of retirement and then got my second chance. I will forever be grateful that I got it and achieved this goal I set out to do after London. It’s been a hard decision, but it’s the right decision so to answer your question, yes Sunday night will be my last routine in gymnastics. I love this sport, I love what it has given me. I have so much love and appreciation for those who have supported me this past decade including my coaches, friends, family, and former teammates. It’s hard to say goodbye, but all great things must come to an end. And I hope to end on a golden note Sunday night, but if that doesn’t happen I’m okay with that. I’m just truly happy—t-that's the best way to put it all into one word. Happy.”

The last gymnast to step on the mat in the uneven bars final, Y/n saluted the judge, did her ritual one final time, and let the bars take her high in the sky. Just like on floor, it wasn’t about the medal. It wasn’t about being the greatest bars gymnast to ever exist.

It was about having fun. It was about that little girl who tumbled on the mat and swung on the bars with a smile on her face. Remembering the love that grew from every minute she was in class and how it made her feel free.

Once again tears coated Y/n’s eyes when she landed the dismount, saluting the judge one last time to the roar of applause of those around her. Mike fell to his knees, Y/n glancing up to the ceiling muttering, ‘Thank you,’ to whoever stood above.

Deep down, she knew.

The night the NBC live coverage reported, “It was a golden farewell for Y/n L/n-Floyd of the United States. The Queen of the Uneven Bars received a groundbreaking score of 17.045 in tonight’s women’s uneven bars final, making her the first gymnast in history from any nation to win the gold medal in its individual event final three consecutive Olympics—L/n-Floyd adding a third medal to her Tokyo collection, her second gold after making history Thursday night with other American gymnast Suni Lee by becoming co-Olympic Champions of the women’s All-Around. Tonight marked Y/n’s eighth Olympic gold medal, her ninth total—she now holds the record of most gold medals won by an American gymnast in the Olympics, as well as the title of most decorated Olympic gymnast in the history of Team USA—overtaking that of Shannon Miller’s seven total medals. The captain of this Tokyo team, Y/n L/n-Floyd has announced her retirement from gymnastics following these Olympic Games. It truly is a sad day for the sport to say goodbye to one of the greatest athletes it’s ever produced, but fear not, tonight was not the last we will see of Y/n in Tokyo. She’s been selected by the members of Team USA to hold the American flag in next Sunday’s closing ceremonies, and if my sources are correct there’s already talk of Y/n being a future inductee of the Olympic Hall of Fame. Until then, on behalf of America and those of us in the studio we’d like to congratulate Y/n L/n-Floyd on an magnificent career, representing Team USA for more than a decade in several international stages, and wish her luck on her future endeavors. Thank you.” As the camera panned away from the broadcaster, the Olympic Fanfare & Theme by John Williams sounded while footage highlights of Y/n’s Olympic career played before the viewers. London. Rio. Tokyo.

Bob met her at the airport, sweeping her off her feet and spinning her around in circles to the joy of her laughter. When he sat her down he held her in his arms for several minutes pressing little kisses all over her face, “I am so so proud of you. I love you so so much,” he said between each kiss.

“I love you too,” she kissed him back before taking her ring from around his neck. Bob grabbed it from her, securing it on her finger before gently kissing the knuckle beneath it. “So I was thinking,” her arms went around his neck, running her fingers along the hair at the nape. “Even though my journey as an athlete has ended……maybe it could be the start of someone else’s?”

Bob looked confused at first, but then slowly his eyes widened, “Are…are you saying you want to…have a baby?” Y/n nodded, eyes glossy as she replied, “if that’s something you’d want. You’re the best husband a girl could ask for, and I know you’d be an amazing father, Bobby.”

Instead of answering, Bob kissed her, pouring every ounce of love from his soul into it. “Yes,” he broke the kiss only to give her another. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I would love nothing more than to raise children with you, Y/n. Let’s do it.” A squeal left her as he dragged her to the car on a mission. “Let’s start as soon as we get home.”

Y/n’s life was one that could be written in the history books. And though she no longer stepped on the mat as a competitor, a new chapter had opened after Tokyo. One with her legacy continuing many years after her debut.

Stepping on the mat as both coach and mother to her not only her sister-in law who strived to be like her idol, but her own little girl who loved to fly high on the bars.

………………………..

Tag list (& those who commented on P.1): @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

watched the first episode of the live action atla adaptation and took notes:

-what is this opening. who are these people. am i expected to care about this random earth kingdom man because i really don’t

-opening fight is kinda meh :/

-sozin looks weirdly… nice? like he has “harmless old man” vibes. i don’t actually dislike this casting choice i think there’s a lot of potential to having him look friendly and approachable even as he does war crimes

-seriously did someone in the writer’s room watch rogue one before coming in and then go like “HEY I KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD ADD” WHAT is this plot doing here

-where is katara’s opening narration. like i get they aren’t adapting one to one but that’s such a loss. the opening cutscene from the original series was so good

-WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GAANG SERIOUSLY. WHY ARE WE STARTING WITH RANDOM EARTH KINGDOM MAN AND SOZIN

-all of these people are so fucking sweaty what is this

-sozin’s outfit is appropriately fuckable

-“my sights… are set… higher… because… it is… our time…” “[screaming]” wow very emo

-KATARA IS HERE!! MY BEST GIRL

-why did they change the narration. this is objectively worse.

-oh no this isn’t katara is it… dang :(

-air temple looking neat. why are we here tho. where are katara and sokka

-why is everyone watching aang jumping around like he’s a fucking celebrity. have they never seen an airbender before in the fucking air temple

-at least they say aang’s name right. step up from shamalalalam or whatever his name is. of course that bar is so low the devil declared it a tripping hazard, so

-these people do NOT talk like actual humans. have these writers never had to write natural exposition before

-genuinely what was the point of that first scene. WHAT does it add

-“when yangchen died the next avatar was born into the water tribe” what, does aang not know this. my fucking god this exposition is shit

-aang didn’t know he was the avatar?? and then didn’t immediately get an ego about it when gyatso told him??? who is this and what did you do with my BOY

-the acting isn’t bad but the lines are so shit it’s hard to tell

-aang is NOT sufficiently goofy

-appa’s kind of ugly :(

-TEAM ROCKET’S BLASTING OFF AGAIN (<— my unfiltered reaction to sozin going jetpack mode)

-unnecessary airbender fight scene. i think this is literally just here to look cool and honestly? 6/10

-aang just fuckin… wandered off? instead of willfully running away? bro you can’t take my boy’s agency like this

-i want a video of appa’s va making those noises into the mic. come on netflix do it it’ll be funny

-WHY is everything so WET all the time

-20 minutes in and i have yet to see the south pole. literally none of this is necessary to the story. you could cut all of it and nothing would change

-HERE SHE IS. FINALLY. IT’S HER

-no funny boat scene with sokka? insert no bitches megamind here

-oh they still have a boat scene. unfortunately it sucks ass

-WHERE IS PISSED OFF KATARA DECIMATING AN ICEBERG BY ACCIDENT

-seriously. they’re removing all the good scenes to fit more unnecessary action and/or melodrama filler in

-shitty zuko cameo

-WHAT is that scar. why is it so small. did he fall and get a scrape on his face? looks more like a scab than anything. 2/10

-baffling why the iceberg even reacted to katara when she’s apparently so fucking incapable she can’t even lift a water orb. they’re massacring my girl

-why does sokka want to leave this random child to die

-kanna!

-“it can’t be… this… is an airbender…..” i am rolling my fucking eyes

-iffy on this iroh so far but i’ll reserve judgement

-tumblr was right. zuko’s actor is absolutely putting his whole pussy into this. he can have rights

-how are NONE of these jokes landing. even the ones they directly crib from the original just… lose all impact

-why is kanna saying the intro dialogue randomly with no prompting. seriously these writers are SO. FUCKING. SHIT

-every emotional beat in this comes off more wooden than a fucking tree

-seriously. everything i could say about this just boils down to the wooden writing, unnecessary and poorly executed exposition, the action scenes shoehorned in for no discernible reason, inability to create any impact from anything ever, and the removal of all the good scenes from the original in favor of more unnecessary poorly written TRASH

-oh one more thing actually

-AANG TEACHES KATARA TO WATERBEND. GET OUT??

-basically

-they took all the good stuff out to fit in more melodrama and action, but their writing (and directing. and acting) is too shitty to actually sell said drama and their fight scenes are mid at best

-3/10

[thirst2]

I can't say that I would've always noticed it but there's this shitstain of a mag. called Queer Majority I keep (unfortunately) bumping into that's clearly an attempt to siphon off more moderate Queer people towards more orthodox conservative ideas but covertly with the guise/trappings of Queerness.

It describes itself itself as covering "issues related to the gay community with a classically liberal perspective" and perhaps the editors are sincere in that (though I do think the option of writing for an American audience and opting to use the phrase "classically liberal" is absolutely an attempt to pull one over) and it's not an overt psyop. But it's a lot of introducing "LGB without the T" crap (framed as "just asking questions!" and like, "Gee wiz, I dunno…; those other members are just so, gosh, extreme;" 🙄) and clear appeals to capital sympathy but trying to frame it as a concern actually always present in Queer culture, from the earliest of day. Like, imagine arguing for classical gender roles on the basis that a lot of gay artists throughout history draw "classically" masculine men and it's an indication of the way Christian-influenced gender roles are, actually, beneficial (and natural!) for us, too; that kind of propaganda. In one of the latest issues, the editor-in-chief argues for "the importance of the gay community in having a positive relationship with police".

Just; utter drivel.

And it worries me, with the general dissatisfaction people have been having around the world that's been building to a head over the last decade, and the general isolation a lot of Queer people still have to a sense of stable community.

But that's a very extended conversation and not what I was recently struck by.

It's mentioned that the editor-in-chief is also assistant director at The Bi Foundation and lead organizer of amBi, a bi social group; I was curious and clicked through to both.

And Queer Majority already had this aesthetic but they both also just as…vapid.

Just, like, empty. I mean, The Bi Foundation's website has an advice column which can always be really helpful both for the marginalized writing in and because hearing our real stories and difficulties are the easier ways to humanize us but most of it is retrofitting bi-ness into pop culture media and "famous bis" which often are based on uncertain historical verasity.

Like, maybe that worked 2 decades ago when we needed to ease the rest of the society in but (perhaps in light of the Queer Majority project and its aims) it's like eating junkfood.

There's so much Queer history and activism you could talk about but I think having to veer that clearly outside of blessed normativity would cause a crisis of identity for it.

And it's all so slick and conventional in its site's graphic design; which isn't inherently bad: The Advocate looks like your usual news site/mag. But it actually covers Queer issues and points out when transphobia happens.

And amBI is even more of that: a slick, professional looking website (à la MeetUp) with pop culture references all over the place and not really offerring much more than "Bi people are in this location". Like a book club oriented around everyone having the same tastes in books.

Just…the bar is so low and you, somehow, managed to offer something even less substantial/nourishing.

I get the impression that the creator isn't much interested in his sexuality beyond its label and has only come to terms with it because, well, you can't change your sexuality. So all the other characteristics about himself take so much more importance, for him.

Perhaps that's less charitable than I ought to be for someone I hardly know but he's also trying to astroturf conservatism into my community so color me unconvinced.

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Every Rose Has it's Thorn

-Part 1-

>Part 2

Universe: Teenage Mutant Teenage Turtles (Bayverse aged-up turtles)

Rating: NSFW, R for swearing mostly MINORS DNI

Raphael x OC (female character)

Tags: Trigger Warning- drugging, assault, violence, original character, slow burn romance

Hi! This is my first attempt at writing. I have been wanting to do an OC fic forever, and I was so completely inspired by @sultrysirens oc characters that I wanted to make my own (Seriously, go read their stuff it's amazing!). Anyways, the beginning is a bit dark and scary, but I'm so excited to continue the story. This series is centered around my original character, Rose.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

-Rose had a shit day and heads to a local dive bar for a drink, only to soon realize her day is only going down from here.

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“Fuck, that’s good.”

Rose Soriano took a swig of the drink that the bartender had slid to her across the lacquered bar top, gifted from some guy a bit down the counter. She raised her glass in thanks and gave an awkward half smile, appreciative for the second round but hoping he wouldn’t take her acceptance as an excuse to wander over.

She was wrong.

As she nursed the blended scotch in her glass, the tall white dude sauntered over and sat down.

“Hey, my name’s Mark. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself?” The blonde spoke with a cocky smile plastered on his lips, brown eyes a little hazed with drink and oozing confidence. He looked nice enough; handsome in a boring way, not bad to look at- but just like every other 25 year old white guy in New York. If she had been interested in dating at the moment, Rose may have given him a shot in another life. But unfortunately for him, she was in no mood for this brand of bullshit tonight.

She had a shit day and just needed some time alone with her thoughts.

“Hi, yeah uh, thanks for the drink but-” She waved a delicate hand in his direction as she spoke, but he cut her off before she could finish her thought.

“What’s your name? Are you from around here?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Look man, thanks for the drink and all- but I’m really not interested.” Turning back to her scotch she tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence between them, and the bubbling frustration resonating off the young man pestering her.

“What, we can’t just have a conversation? Who said that I was trying to pick you up or anything, maybe I was just looking for some company.” He shifted in his seat, legs turning so he faced her as his tone turned sharp in the quiet space between them. “Now are you gunna tell me your name or what? Like I bought you a drink, the least you could do is tell me who you are.”

Sigh.

Of course things could never go the easy way, he just had to be difficult.

Rose shifted uncomfortably at the counter, her shoes dangling just above the foot rail as she perched on her stool. She was short, not even 5'4" with a petite and curvy hourglass frame that fit snugly on the seat. Her luscious mane of copper curls cascaded over her shoulders as she tensed into the counter, the blonde highlights peeking out from her bangs and glowing in the low bar lighting as her deep, emerald green eyes side-eyed the man sitting next to her.

After a lengthy internal debate, she decided giving her name would not kill her, and hunched further against the bar top as she answered him. 

“Name’s Rose. Nice to meet you.”

“See, was that so hard?” Mark sneered, making her outwardly cringe as she immediately regretted her decision. “So, why are you here by yourself? Boyfriend ditch you?” 

Rose snorted, eyes rolling as she looked back to her glass.

She was incredibly beautiful; she knew it, everywhere she went people knew it- she couldn’t escape it.

But after years of bad experiences with men she had a bad attitude and a big mouth, which usually led to them running off, tails between their legs, when they tried hitting on her in public like this. Normally she only went out with friends and would’ve told this man off in a heartbeat, but being alone at the bar, and after everything that happened today, she was left feeling a little vulnerable and less bold than usual.

She glared over her glass at him as he rested an arm on the bar top next to her. 

“That is honestly none of your business, and I would really prefer to be alone dude. Besides,” she turned to point out some young women giggling at the other end of the bar, “those girls seem way more your speed.”

As she turned back, she saw movement in her peripheral vision, but when she looked again at her surroundings nothing had appeared to have changed, so she dismissed it.

Mark flashed a cocky smile at her but seemed to take the bait.

“Aight, your loss. But if you change your mind I’ll be over there waiting, hot stuff.”

Giving a wink, he stood up from his seat and left Rose’s side to go chat with the young 21 year olds in the corner.

“Thank god that’s finally over. I thought he’d never get the hint.” She mumbled into her glass, finally relaxing again.

She took another hit of the scotch, and let her mind wander back to the events of the day.

Rose had come home from a gig to find her boyfriend of eight years in bed with another man, and while she was upset and hurt, she also didn’t know how to process the new information.

She felt guilty, mostly. She may have pushed him into the relationship when he wasn’t ready, and he had been stalling on proposing but wouldn’t give a reason why. With everything in the open now she felt like a weight had been lifted, that maybe she wasn’t unattractive- her boyfriend was just gay.

Shaking her head, she took another swig, wincing at the burn as it slid down her throat.

Her now ex-boyfriend had promised that he wouldn't be at their shared apartment tonight, so she could process what happened and make a plan on what to do next.

God, she hadn’t even called her brother yet. That was going to be an absolute nightmare of I-told-you-so’s. She had written off his comments about her relationship and ignored the signs: the lack of affection, the constant trips out of town, the hanging out with friends that she wasn’t invited to that would end up as overnighters.

Hell, she still loved Nick, but her heart ached for the both of them. How long was he suffering in silence about this, and why didn’t he just come out and talk to her? They had been friends before they started dating, and they were supposed to be a team, right?

Damn, this is a mess.

Her eyes were glued to the remaining liquor in her glass as she swirled the liquid around, the last of the melting ice cube clinking against the sides of the container.

A fucking mess.

Signaling the bartender, she paid her tab and finished the last of her drink.

Rose slid off the stool, and as she stepped towards the door, suddenly the room started to spin.

Did I drink that much?

Shit.

Desperately trying to regain control of her body, she took a deep breath and moved quickly on unsteady feet out the main entry doors for some fresh air.

Once outside, the cool September air whipped against her face as she adjusted to the darkness of the city street.

The lights from the bar's front entry were growing fuzzy around the edges, and she couldn't tell if it was from the panic in her throat or the hum of the liquor in her system.

Rose shook her head and quickly stepped into the quiet alley next the bar, trying to maintain her composure while methodically trying to retrace the night's events.

Luckily her apartment building was close by, but she wasn’t sure she could walk with how much everything was spinning out of control.

Two drinks?

Yes, they were strong. But two had never been an issue before.

Then it hit her.

“That FUCKER!”  

The arm movement that she dismissed earlier- he must have put some kind of roofie in her drink when she turned her head.

Remembering what she could about the drug, she immediately stuck her finger down her throat trying to ralph up anything she could muster. Cringing at the action, and hoping she wasn’t too late, she got up what she could and dug into her bag for her phone while stabilizing herself against the wall.

Just as she tried to hit the call button on the screen, her phone was smacked out of her hand and she felt a force knock the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for air and falling to the ground.

“ We can’t have you doing that, now can we? Not after how long I had to wait for you to finally get up and leave- you don’t want to be rude, right?”

Mark and another man that she hadn’t seen before were standing above her, smiling and laughing to themselves.

She was still present enough to know how much danger she was in, but could barely see straight enough to even stand up, let alone fight her way out of this.

Fuck.

Mark bent down to grab her hair at the scalp and forced her to look up at him. “Now, we’re going to all play nice, and as long as you behave you’ll be fine.”

With his last words she felt a knife press against her throat, the blade thick and sharp. There was a stinging sensation as blood was drawn where the point of the metal was stabbing into her skin. And she couldn't help the wince that curled the other man's lips up into a sneer. 

The other man flicked his eyes back to the alley entrance, and jutted his chin at Mark to head further into the darkness.

Her assailant yanked on her hair, in an attempt to drag her up on her feet and get her to comply. As she clumsily stood and took a few swaying steps with them, the knife left her skin and came to rest at his side, still a threat but no longer drawing blood.

Rose’s mind was swimming too much to think of a full plan, but she knew she had to do something.

No se saldrán con la suya sin pelear conmigo, malditos cabrones- I’d rather die.

An old saying from her Dad popped into her mind as she stumbled in Mark’s grip down the alley:

Lucha hasta el final, chaval; Go down swingin', kid.

Hearing movement somewhere nearby that wasn’t the two men, she made a decision.

Hopefully whoever was nearby would hear her and help. Or, at least she gave it her best shot- no regrets.

Gathering up her courage, she went for it. Rose knew she would have a few seconds, and she had to make them count.

Using what strength and focus she had left, she turned in Mark’s direction quicker than he could react and palm striked his nose. She felt the crunch of his cartilage in her hand right before he cursed loudly.

“WHAT THE FUCK BITCH!?!”

She had already started to turn and run, but her movements were slow due to the drug in her system.

Giving everything she had, she screamed.

“HELP, SOMEONE PLEASE HEL-”

She was tackled to the ground before she could get to the street and felt a hard kick to the ribs as someone held her down. The pain was so intense she wanted to cry, but there was no air left in her small body. The kick had winded her again, and she was left gasping as the strikes continued.

“You -fucking- bitch-” Mark huffed in between thuds of his shoes against her chest. He stopped the barrage and spit on the ground near her face. “If you thought it was going to be bad before- you have no idea what you’re in for now.”

The other guy moved from restraining Rose on the ground and grabbed her hair again. She was bleeding now, red smeared on her skin like blush.

“You’re gunna get it bitch, and you’re gunna be beggin we kill you.” He chuckled darkly and turned back to Mark, grabbing the knife again and holding it against her cheek.

Mark stood off to the side, eyeing her smugly as his nose dripped with his own blood. 

“First, we’re gunna start with cuttin off this pretty hair of yours.” He sneered, obviously enjoying himself.

Rose was barely hanging on to consciousness and felt a tear run down her cheek, knowing this would be her last night on this earth and these pricks were the last thing she’d ever see.

I tried, Dom.

I'm sorry. 

Suddenly, a figure landed behind the men with a powerful thud on the pavement.

“Now that’d be a shame to wreck her pretty hair, don’t ya think Leo?”

The men jumped at the gravelly voice behind them, and audibly gasped when three other figures emerged from the shadows.

One of them stepped closer.

“I believe you’re right, Raph. It looks like these boys don’t understand the meaning of chivalry.” The figure leaned down to look both trembling men in the face. “Let go of her. Now.”

The man holding her tightened his grip on her hair, and Rose could feel his hand shaking. She yelped from the pain and the first figure that had spoken growled under his breath.

“You gunna fuckin make me, freaks?!” The man sneered and flicked his knife in their direction. “Just leave us alone and we won’t hurt y-.” He had barely finished speaking when the first figure grabbed the man’s neck with one hand and lifted him off the ground.

He let go of Rose and the knife to grab at the massive fingers around his throat, and she sank to the ground unconscious as the blade clattered to the asphalt. 

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Raphael and his brothers had been cooped up for so long in the lair that they were all going a bit stir crazy.

Master Splinter had not been feeling well, so the team had stayed home to care for him in his old age for a week or so while he recovered. Donatello and Leonardo were the main care-takers, while Raphael and Michelangelo mostly tried to stay out of the way.

As a result, the two spent most of their time in the weight room, annoying their brothers with the constant clinking of metal all hours of the night.

Tensions had reached a boiling point this afternoon, when Donnie had been trying to nap on the couch. Mikey and Raph had snuck up behind the sofa and flipped it, sending their brother flying with a squawk as he flailed to the ground.

As a result, Mikey and Raph were sentenced to bathroom cleaning duty for a month, and once Sensei was tucked in for the night, the team headed out to patrol.

They had stopped for a moment atop an apartment building in the dark of the city, waiting and listening. Donnie had been combing through the police scanner, but it was a quiet night in NYC.

Well, as quiet as the city gets anyway, Raph thought.

There was the constant hum of cars, horns, and people bustling around 24/7, but he loved it.

New York was home, and even though they would never be able to live like humans, he still wouldn’t trade his life for the world.

As Raph was lost in the view of the city skyline, a yell from a few blocks over caught the turtle's attention.

The team jumped into action, headed to the source of the noise.

Each turtle had a different style of traveling from roof -to-roof, and Raphael laughed as he watched the youngest flip through the air over a billboard- Mikey loved to show off with his board any chance he got.

“It’s crazy that no one’s noticed ya Mike," Raph huffed as he swung over a gap between buildings, “with how much you mess around ya’d think we'dve gotten caught daily by now.”

“Oh you’re just jealous you don’t have my mad skills, dude” Mikey gloated, doing a front flip over the side of a ledge with a wink to prove his point.

The red banded turtle shook his head and smiled- as much as his brothers annoyed him, they were family, and he had to admit the guy had some serious acrobatic talent.

Not that he’d ever tell him to his face.

They arrived at a building overlooking an alley next to a dive bar, and saw two men entering the dark side street. Raph narrowed his eyes as he watched them, and froze when he saw their target.

A young woman leaned on the outside wall of the bar, clearly shaken and digging in her purse for something. In a moment the men were on her and she was knocked to the ground, gasping for air.

He jolted forward, but a firm hand on his arm signaled him to halt. It took everything in him to not rush down, but he knew better than to start a fight with Leo over “who the leader was” again.

He looked over to Leonardo, who eyed the scene for a moment before pointing to the nearest vantage point, and they made their way down to the alley.

As Raph moved, he watched the woman as the men spoke to her in hushed tones. Her hair was captivating and out of place in the dark alley, almost a copper halo of curls surrounding her face, and he couldn't help but stare as he climbed. 

Focus, gotta focus.

As they prepared to leap down into action, the woman did something that none of the turtles expected.

She broke one of the guys' noses and was running back to the street, yelling for help.

Raph almost smiled; this girl had some brass balls. She was in this life-or-death situation, and chose to fight her way out instead of cowering. 

“ Leo, we've got to get in there, but she’s too close to the street now. We’ll be seen.” Donnie looked down at the well-lit street and alley in front of them. There were cars passing by, but no pedestrians; so maybe she would get to the street so they could apprehend the men in the alley without her seeing them. 

“Yeah, Don. Just let me think for a minute.”

He was right.

They could not expose their family and risk their safety, but they also needed to uphold their oath to protect the citizens of this city.

It's their duty, as heroes of New York.

Leo huffed to himself and chewed at his lip as he kept his eyes focused on the scene in front of them. 

“Leo, we gotta get down there."

Raph was close to snapping. He watched in horror as the men caught up to her and took her down, beginning a fierce barrage of kicks to her chest.

“I ain't waitin’ Leo.”

Raph leapt off the building and landed behind the men, his brothers following suit. He figured he would have to answer for not following orders later, but he just couldn’t watch this happen.

His feet made a loud thud boom in the quiet darkness directly behind the men.

The woman was conscious but fading, and as Leo took the lead in trying to convince them to surrender quickly, Raph watched as the man that had a grip on her hair tightened it. She cried out in pain, a tear streaming down her face, and Raph lost all control he had over his anger. The guy said something to him, but he didn’t hear it.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was gripping the man’s throat in one hand and lifting him off the ground.

The prick was struggling and begging for his life, but all Raph could see was the beautiful woman on the ground, bruised and bleeding.

Mikey scooped her up in his arms, and Donnie began checking her vitals on his wrist scanner.

Raph could faintly hear Leo saying something, and it took a minute before he heard him clearly.

“Raph, put the guy down. Cops are enroute, and you’re going to kill him.”

He loosened his grip and let the unconscious male slip from his hands, slumping on the ground.

“Payback’s a bitch.” Raph chuckled darkly. Coming back to his senses, he felt a little guilty.

A little. 

“Donnie, is he dead?” Mikey's voice was steeped in worry as he poked his head over Raph's shoulder, the woman still cradled in his arms. 

The purple banded turtle looked over at the man before turning his attention back to the bigger problem at hand.

“No, just unconscious. She, however, is not doing well and will need medical treatment.”

Turning to Leo he commented as his fingers danced over his scanner, eyes scanning the digital displays, “I think they gave her some sort of drug. Her blood alcohol level is low, but she seems to be under the influence of something. I worry that a hospital would not know what to look for if we just dropped her off. I would be able to test and treat her in the lab- “

Donnie cut himself off as his monitor beeped.

“Her vitals are dropping, Leo. What’s your call?”

“Call Sensei and let him know we’re having company. Let’s move out boys.”

[asimperingswannsong]

The Light Bringer Helps a Lady Drown Her Sorrows

Lucifer Morningstar (Sandman)/Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)

Author’s Note: I adored Gwen’s Lucifer but never thought I’d write them because I couldn’t picture a satisfying dynamic. Well, I formed a picture, and turns out, it’s the sort of picture your mom tapes to the fridge in support of your fragile ego. The sort of scribble that makes mom’s friends wonder if mom’s kid is alright. I can only apologize for this finger painted hellscape.

Warnings: Uh, wing kink? Tentacle interest? Unexpected cock in the bagging area? True form sex? Aerial smut? Oh, and a small slaughter. If you trigger easily or just have a low tolerance for general tomfuckery; maybe set this one out?

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Lady Dimitrescu had come to this hotel bar to drown her sorrows after being harshly reprimanded by Mother Miranda. She was having a pity party for herself. She adored Mother Miranda. Her every wish was Alcina’s command, and she longed to receive the kind of lavish affection from her that Alcina doled out on her own daughters. She loved her daughters fiercely. They were second only in her mind to Mother Miranda herself, and she was not shy about showing them.

She came here angry and hurt. She could have easily enjoyed her drink at home, but she knew if she sat here long enough, she was sure to draw the attention of a worthless man thing sooner or later. And right now, she’d love nothing more than to take one of them home with her, and make his misery a welcome diversion from her own.

“If you’re in need of a surrogate parent, I could be your new daddy?” A velvety voice had leant down near her ear and whispered those ridiculous words to her. There it was, just like clockwork. “Listen to me you disgusting man thing, if you…” she stopped abruptly as she turned on her barstool to find the most ethereal creature she’d ever seen gazing at her with a mischievous grin on their face.

They were so exquisite; pale skin, blue eyes, and beautiful blonde curls. Alcina was left breathless. “My god.” The Light Bringer cocked an eyebrow and shrugged slightly, “I might have had ambitions once…you’re not so bad on the eyes yourself, Lady Dimitrescu.” Mind reading? Lady Dimitrescu had not imagined herself susceptible to telepathy…not from a stranger anyway. And she was sure she hadn’t introduced herself. “Come now, little lamb, we’re not strangers. Are we?”

“What?” she felt a little foggy and uncertain. It was bizarre. “You deserve better from your mommy dearest, my pet. Why don’t you let daddy kiss it and make it all better?” Their words dripped from their mouth in the most sensuous way. Alcina felt herself throbbing.

Luci led Alcina over to a corner booth near the piano and pulled her in. There was a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne on the table and a bottle of red in the particular vintage Alcina enjoyed. When she tasted the blood of a maiden mixed with the red wine she looked curiously at her companion.

“Don’t be coy dear,” Luci said, “what do you think of the hotel’s virtuoso?” they asked while gesturing to the pianist with their champagne flute. “He’s quite good, incredible actually…for a man thing.” Luci chuckled at the tone Alcina assumed when referring to men. “He should be good. He made a deal with me, unfortunately he was a little vague in the details and…” they gestured to the hotel.

“Oh well, his loss is our gain, cheers!” they toasted. The two sat and enjoyed Chopin. Alcina noticed Luci’s gaze on her body out of the corner of her eye. They were making an especially in depth appraisal of her bust line. “Like something you see?” Alcina purred at her companion, turning to them and placing a finger under their chin.

“I like all of it,” they returned before Alcina pulled them in for a kiss. The kiss deepened as Alcina ran her tongue in and around Luci’s mouth as they moaned. They ended up in a heavy petting session in the booth. The pianist looked a little uncomfortable as he noticed Luci scoot over and straddle the incredibly tall woman sitting next to them in the booth.

The barman came over after receiving a few complaints and bent down to interrupt the horny pair with, “Ahem, this is a hotel. There are rooms if you wish to continue in this manner.” They broke apart and Luci gave Alcina a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Excuse me a moment, won’t you, sweetling?” “Of course.”

Luci watched as Alcina slipped out of the booth and made her way to the powder room. Luci chuckled to themselves as they saw Alcina wrap one large gloved hand over the mouth of the barman and pull him along with her. Luci finished their champagne while they waited on their companion to return.

When Alcina arrived back at the booth her eyes were shining and she was dabbing delicately at her lips. She bent down and licked into Luci’s mouth. Breaking the kiss she said, “Shall we step outside before we offend any more gentle constitutions?” Luci took her arm and they walked out of the bar. The make out session resumed before they made it outside, with Alcina having to lift Luci up into her arms for their kisses to continue as they walked.

They stumbled out of a side exit and into a dimly lit alleyway. Luci was trying their best to be the dominant one in their exchange but Alcina’s height was giving her the advantage. Luci resorted to unzipping Alcina’s dress all the way down her back and then tearing it off.

She was shocked to find herself standing in the alley in just heels and her lingerie. Alcina was not used to being man handled in this manner. She looked back at Luci after inspecting her own state of undress only to find them entirely nude except for a pair of knee high platform boots.

They were even more stunning, small but perky breasts and wonderfully curvy hips and thighs but Alcina was shocked by the 10 inch cock. Luci’s eyes shone in the dark along with a wicked grin on their face as they said, “I’m going to fuck you into the dirt, little lamb.” Alcina threw her head back and started to let out a hearty laugh at the nerve of her companion, but her laugh was cut off as she was tackled roughly to the ground.

She flushed with anger at being mostly nude in the dirty alleyway and started to give Luci a menacing look when she was rendered speechless as a large set of black leathery wings unfolded themselves from Luci’s back and flapped a few times above them as if stretching after being confined. Alcina was gawking at the wings as she felt Luci attacking her neck and chest with their lips and mouth.

They sucked and kissed down to Alcina’s breast before they lifted slightly and sliced the bra apart with “claws? They have claws?” She felt her nipple being engulfed in the warm wetness of their mouth as Luci’s hand dipped into her panties. Alcina reached up a touched the wing above her causing Luci to moan around her breast.

Alcina cocked an eyebrow at that response as she felt a finger piercing her opening. She moaned herself this time before reaching up and gently dragging her hand down as much of the length of Luci’s wing as she could manage. Luci let go of Alcina’s nipple with a small popping sound as they threw their head back an moaned at the wing contact. They looked at Alcina appearing slightly dazed.

“Sensitive, darling?” Alcina asked with a silky coo. Luci growled and sliced the side of her panties, ripping them to the side, and shoving their girth inside Alcina. It was her turn to throw her head back and moan. She reached up again but Luci pulled their wings back from their sides enough to put them just out of reach as they grabbed onto Alcina’s hips and pressed her down fucking her roughly into the dirt.

She moaned and thrashed her head back and forth at the merciless onslaught. It continued unchecked no matter how much she writhed beneath Luci. She felt her orgasm start to build and it sent her blood lust into high gear. She desperately wanted to cum and she desperately want to sink her teeth into her companion.

Luci smiled at the predatory look that came into Alcina’s eyes as she was pinned beneath them. Luci took one hand off Alcina’s hip and wrapped it around her throat frustrating her attempts to get at Luci with her mouth. Luci took pleasure in her frustration as they felt Alcina bucking up underneath them. Luci reached down and rubbed Alcina’s clit, while they enjoyed the way her breasts bounced with her bucking and writhing.

Alcina’s hips stuttered and she threw her head back groaning roughly as she came. The squeezing of Alcina’s cunt caused Luci to cum spilling their seed inside her and moaning as they collapsed onto Alcina’s breasts. Feeling Luci’s seed spread inside her caused Alcina to become frantic with blood lust. She pulled a limp Luci up her body and sank her teeth into their neck.

Alcina was taken on the wildest most bizarre trip of her life as Luci’s blood hit her mouth. She took in all of the cosmos and all of creation from the bang through several aeons to an all encompassing darkness as she felt herself falling into the dark.

She woke up after an unknown amount of time still lying in the alley with her head cradled in Luci’s lap. They were tracing gentle circles at her temple and smiling sweetly down at her. “What’s wrong little lamb was I too spicy?”

As the grogginess began to wear off and her head cleared, Alcina felt her blood zinging through her veins with an electric charge to it. Her breathing and her pulse skyrocketed and she felt herself beginning to change.

She pushed herself up, stumbling as she tried to stand, crashing into the wall and holding on as she bent double. She howled as her form began to slip. Luci stood up and smiled as they watched Alcina assume her true form. She went from a tall buxom raven haired beauty to a tentacle bedecked fiend in a cloud of black smoke. This new form snarled at Luci causing Luci to throw their head back and attempt to laugh with glee.

But this time it was their turn to be tackled…sort of. Alcina leapt at Luci and made contact but was caught off guard when Luci pushed up and flapped their wings taking flight and pulling Alcina up with them. They continued flapping furiously and ascending further while attempting to hold Alcina at bay by gripping tightly to two of the tentacles on her head.

They made it to just above the roof lines as Alcina made contact with a claw, tearing a cut down the center of one of Luci’s wings. Luci screamed first in pain, then in anger. Their eyes lit up with hunger of their own. Alcina released an ear splitting keening and her struggles caused them to veer and roll in the air.

As Alcina continued to claw at Luci and continued to try to get her mouth back to their neck. Luci returned the scratching, leaving open claw wounds on Alcina’s torso, before grabbing the mess of tentacles where her legs used to be and parting them until they found the pink throbbing cunt underneath. They grabbed Alcina’s arm and pulled themselves up her body before pressing up and shoving their cock back inside her.

This time the screech that came out of Alcina sent several dozen townspeople scrambling for shelter down below them. They didn’t know exactly what the ball of wings, tentacles, and naked flesh flying drunkenly above them and screaming like a banshee was but they thought it best to leave further investigation to someone else…someone with a very large gun perhaps.

Luci thrust into her a few more times and Alcina’s writhing caused them to veer sharply crashing into the side of a building. Luci used the leverage to continue to fuck into her causing Alcina to screech again and slam her fist into the wall behind them knocking a very large hole into it.

As Luci flapped their wing, Alcina reached forward and bit down onto it. Luci screamed in pain and in pleasure and they dropped down hitting a bench before landing in a heap of blood, wings, tentacles, and flesh on the pavement. Luci continued rutting into Alcina and they both came a second time. Luci emptying themselves inside Alcina again.

Alcina roughly pushed Luci off of her and to the side. She brought herself up with her arms, snarled, screeched, turned and fled away down the sidewalk. Luci stood and followed after her, going from entirely nude to clad in head to toe black patent leather in a single step. The blood and the tousled hair from their love making vanished as well and the Light Bringer was once again their immaculate self as they followed the sounds of terror looking for their lover.

They stepped inside a billard’s bar and almost collided with a frenzied patron who was attempting a hasty exit. Luci grabbed him by the throat. “Leaving so soon, my pet? I’ve only just arr…” The thought was rendered void by Alcina ripping his body roughly into the air before biting down onto his torso. Luci held only his newly severed head and neck. They tossed it carelessly over their shoulder.

They stood in their post coital contentment and listened to the symphony of screams, the running of feet, and the crashing and shattering of property as Alcina slaughtered everyone inside. She tore limbs from bodies, sliced heads off, tore flesh and consumed it, gulped large quantities of blood from stumps until not a soul remained but the pair of them.

Luci felt their eyes mist over with affection as they watched Alcina in the throes of a seemingly insatiable blood lust. They were beginning to develop a soft spot for this magnificent creature. With the decimation of the billiard hall and all it’s inhabitants complete. Alcina stood nude in the center of the room, breathing deeply, and swaying slightly. She reassumed her previous lady like appearance before swaying a final time, tipping backward, and falling. Luci rushed forward and cupped the back of her head stopping it from hitting the floor. They pulled Alcina’s head into their lap, cradling it again and drawing soothing circles at her temples with their fingertips. Their eyes were still glistening when they looked down at Alcina.

Alcina lay more fully sated than she could ever remember being as she gazed up into the exquisite beauty of the Light Bringer who was looking tenderly back at her. They whispered to her, “Little lamb, your mother is a fool if she fails to appreciate you. You truly are a thing of wonder. We really must do this again sometime.” They bent down and placed a sweet kiss to Alcina’s forehead and Alcina awoke nude in her own bed.

*edited because I misgendered the Light bringer like half a dozen times 😑and it was driving me crazy thinking about it 😵*

[hellhound5925]

Alright so here is something a little different for you all! I hope you like it! Please let me know!

I’m writing a new Fic under the same name as my Captain Rex one but this time it’s a Bad Batch version. If it goes well I will keep writing it. Let me know what you think!

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior* Bad Batch edition

Chapter One

Honestly.....this is quite literally the last place I want to be. One time, and I mean one time Cid THOUGHT she was doing me a favor and I owed her. The only thing Cid did for me was get me a job. I happened to be one of the 'lucky' ones - if you can even call it that - when the Empire bombed Mandalore. Needing the money, I guess Cid thought a favor meant throwing my life on the line for her benefit, while paying me enough to put fuel in my ship and replenish SOME rations. Cid was never my favorite, but we do what we have to do. I have a skill set she wanted and she had something I wanted.

Out of the blue she calls saying she's got a job that needs my help. I said no naturally, but then she reminded me I 'owe' her. I know damn well I could storm in there and take her and her mercs out myself...however, she does pay and I wouldn't mind some dirty work. "Fine....I'll be there in 2 rotations", "You'd better be quicker than that, I haven't got all day", the woman makes my blood boil..... "Alright, alright, Udessi (Calm down), I'll be there by morning". I end the link before she can say anything else. I really have no interest in conversations further with her.

I ready my ship (a Kom'rk class fighter also known as the Gaunlet star fighter) or the jump to hyper space. The only reason why I told her 2 days was to get under her skin. We both know I could be there as soon as I want but honestly? I love butting heads with her. I swear if this mission doesn't pay well or pan out, I'll ruin her...

————

Having spent an unfortunate amount of time at CID's before I was used to the ships coming to and from Ord Mantell. However, this time there was one I did not recognize. It looked to be an Omicron-class attack shuttle but it was definitely modified. I land my ship next to it, and head over to admire it.

I take a walk around the hull of the modified Omicron, stopping at the front to use my HUD to scan it. Standing with my hands on my hips I let out an impressed hum. "Not bad. Looks like someone did all the work themselves. Quite impressive" I say flipping my range finder back up.

"That would be because I did it" Says a voice behind me. I spin around, drawing my dual Westar-35 blasters aiming them at the source. I'm met with an individual in black and red plastoid, datapad in hand, "I'm of no harm to you" he says putting up the visor to reveal goggles. His big bright brown eyes give me a once over, "Mandalorian. It's a wonder there are any left after-". I cut him off with a loud sigh and reholster my blasters before storming off toward Cid's. I immediately start to feel bad for the poor guy. My reaction was not really called for, but the loss of my home...of Mandalore, is still raw. The open wound, being pressed by a stranger who likely has no idea what's it's like was rather irritating to me.

————

Cid's Parlor is loud and crowded - as usual. I made my way to the bar where the blue Twi-lek bartender who I haven't seen in ages immediately recognized me. "Long time no see. I was starting to think you wised up" she joked. Poor girl always listened to me complain, but I'm probably the only person here who has ever shown her any sort of kindness. "Unfortunately I'm a little low on rations to be wise" I laugh. A rather large, obnoxious man comes over to me "Wow, that must be real Beskar.......Wonder what kind of price someone would pay for th-th-that...." He slurs a little at the end. I eject my vibro blade from my vambrace and press it to his neck "Try to take it from me and I'll find out how much someone will pay for your head" My words laces with venom. The bar tender laughs and slides a shot across the bar at me. I let go of the man who was rather caught off guard. Some of the other patrons at the bar are starting but I could careless. People usually stare when they see 'one of my kind'. "Don't mess with Mandalorians" someone says across the bar. I glance down and see another group of men in black and red plastoid - must be the poor guy from earlier is with them.

I slide my helmet off, letting my blonde hair fall. Placing my helmet on the bar top, I take the shot. The bartender nods over my shoulder and I sign knowing what's coming. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes" Cid says throwing an arm over me like we are old pals. I roll my eyes "I'm not here because I want to be. Lets get on with it" I grumble. "No 'Hi Cid, how are you?'" She asks. "Nar'sheb (shove it)" I say with a polite smile on my face. She has no idea what I said to her but there's a snicker from someone close by.

————

"You know some day that attitude of yours is going to get you in trouble" Cid scolds me. "I'm not here to discuss my 'attitude'. What's the mission?", Cid stands behind her desk and crosses her arms "Fine, I need you to help out a group of fine gentlemen." She starts to explain. At this point I'm losing my patience "I work alone". "Not this time, look I'm sorry about the last job alright? You needed the credits, I had a job, but this time will be different I swear. These guys could really use someone with your skills. Dooku's private stash is being relocated by the empire and I want you to help them get as much as possible". The fact that she said Empire had my attention and attitude immediately shifts. "I thought you might like getting back at them and I promise I'll give you 20%" she continues noticing my mood lighten. "35 and it's a deal" I counter back. "Hey! I gotta pay those other guys too. I feel I'm being quite generous", "Fine 20%, Now who are these guys?", "They call themselves the Bad Batch. Wait here I'll go get them" and with that she heads out the door.

I set my helmet on her desk and lean against one of the book cases lining the wall. I fiddle with my gloves and my vambrace until the door opens. Cid, followed by 4 men - one of which was the guy from the landing zone - and a kid? Each of the men remove their helmets to reveal their faces. Clones? I stand up straight and rest my hands on my blasters. “Take it easy there Mando these are the good guys” Cid rolls her eyes after seeing my body language. The kid strolls over to me - clearly not intimidated at all - and sticks out her hand “Hi, Im Omega”. I quirk a brow at her before offering my hand, “This is the part you tell me your name” whispers Omega. “Right, Ni ceta (sorry). I’m Raven” I finally tell her. Her boldness takes me by surprise. I like this kid. Omega looks at the others who are standing there in silence. She nods my direction, and the largest one of the 4 pushes past, “I’m Wrecker! I like to blow stuff up!” He says very loudly. I shake his hand which compared to my hand - even with gloves on - looks like it could crush mine. “Wrecker, I feel that last part was not necessary” says the one from earlier - still holding a datapad. “I’m Tech by the way. We met briefly earlier” he continues. “Look I’m sorry about-“ I start before he cuts me off. “No need, it was rather insensitive of me to speak to you that way”. This causes the other two - one with a skull tattoo on half his face and the other with a socket for an arm. “So that modified Omicron is yours then?” I ask causing the one with the tattoo to now look at me. “Actually it’s my ship, the Marauder. I’m their Sargent, well was their Sargent and this is Echo.” Echo waves at me with his socket arm and a soft smile. I nod, “Look, no offense but whatever this mission is I can promise it’s dangerous. I don’t really feel like bringing a kid along with us is going to be a great idea” I say gesturing to Omega. “Hey! I go on plenty missions!” She protests. “Look, Omega. I like your spirit I do, but your a kid. I’m not going to let something happen to a kid” I explain to her. “She goes with us” Hunter says in a gruff voice, putting his foot down. I can see a little of myself in the way Omega is looking at me. She seems like a smart kid but I’ve seen enough damage the Empire has done, I’d hate to see this kid caught in the middle. I choose to say nothing and shake my head. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” I ask grabbing my buy’ce (helmet) and sliding it over my head. With that, we all head out to the ships.

————

When I start heading towards my ship, I hear someone call out to me “wouldn’t it just be easier if we all rode together?” Omega asks. I stop and turn around “How do I know you won’t leave me behind?” I ask. I don’t really trust these guys. I mean how could I? The clones - even though it was at Palpatines hand - were the reason the Republic fell and we are in this mess. These guys seem different but I don’t have a reason to trust them. Omega, almost like she is reading my thoughts says “you can trust us, we aren’t like the others”. The others. I scoff to myself. Without saying anything I head up the ramp to my ship, gather a few things, and come back out to see Omega standing where I left her. The rest of the group must have gone to their ship. “I knew you’d come around!” She about jumps for joy before leading me onto the Marauder.

Omega shows me to ‘her room’ and tells me I can leave my bag there. I’m a little hesitant at first but I don’t have any other options at the moment. The only things in this bag are a couple changes of regular cloths and some rations. I’ve not got much to lose that isn’t my beskar these days. She then gives me a brief tour of the ship, ending at the cockpit where Hunter and the rest are talking…about me. Well, I didn’t actually hear them say anything specific, but by their body language and the way Hunter stiffens before he even saw me told me everything I needed to know. I decide to speak up, “I know you don’t trust me and that’s fine. We don’t have a reason to trust each other but once this mission is over and I’m paid I’ll be gone. You won’t have to worry after that”. They all glance at one another except Hunter, he’s watching me. “That seems reasonable” Tech says very matter of factly.

Seeing that there are no more available seats, I sit on the floor leaning against the wall. “So what’s the plan?” I ask a sliding my buy’ce (helmet) off. “Get to Serenno and scout the area.” Hunter says without looking over at me. I sigh, “That’s not much of a plan but I can improvise.” I hear a clunk and look over to see a curious Omega with my buy’ce (helmet) - she almost dropped - in her hands. “Sorry” she says when she notices she’s been caught. The rest of the batch turns to see what she had done. Hunter frowns and looks as if he was about to scold her, I give him a look before turning to her. I smile “It’s alright, you can’t hurt it. It’s already got a lot of scratches on it”. This kid makes me soft and I don’t know why. I mean she is just a kid after all. She turns it over in her hands, “where did you get it?”. Before I can answer Tech is already explaining it, “Mandalorian armor is passed down through families. Sometimes it is even reforged for the wearer.” Omega looks to me to confirm the story and I nod. “Not many people know much about my people, how is it you know so much?” I asked Tech. Wrecker lets out a loud sigh “ughhh you had to ask…” Tech gives him a looks “You see, I spend much of my time doing research and as you may know we are clones of Jango Fetts.”, “Yeah but you guys don’t look like the others” I point out. “We are….well….different. Each of us had a unique genetic modification. Wrecker is brute strength, Hunter had enhances senses, I have high intelligence, and Crosshair-“, “He’s with the Empire now” barks Hunter, interrupting Tech. “What about you?” I asked Echo. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I was originally with the 501st under General Skywalker. There was an accident and I was blonde up, capture by the techno union and they made me mostly machine”. Hearing his story pulls at my softer side, “Ni ceta (I’m sorry)” I say to him. He gives me a soft smile.

“Woah” Omega interrupts the mood - thank Maker. She’s got my buy’ce (helmet) over her head, which quite honestly is kinda funny. It’s definitely too big for her. “This tech is outdated. You know, Tech could make some upgrades to this if you wanted” her voice sounds kind of funny through the modulator. I mull it over for a second, “We’ll see kid” I laugh at the image of her tiny frame with the giant buy’ce (helmet) on. I notice Hunter is watching the exchange between her and I out of the corner of my eye. I can tell by her silence she is playing with the HUD. “So how do you know Cid?” Omega asks. “You’re quite the curious one aren’t you?” I point out. She giggles and shrugs - still wearing my buy’ce. I sigh sadly, “After…..Let’s just say I was in a rough patch and needed some credits. Now I prefer to bounty hunt, but I refuse to work for the Empire”. Maker why am I spilling my guts to this girl? She’s a kid. This is probably the most I’ve ever talked about myself to anyone other than Cid. Which I know now was a mistake. Omega - reading the room - slides off my buy’ce and sadly looks at me, “Something bad happened didn’t it?”, I sigh again “I’d rather not get into it”. Hunter turns back around in his seat facing the front window. I glance over his direction this time. “What’s his deal?” I ask Omega. She looks fondly his way, “He’s really protective of me, of us really. He’s my family”. “Hold on to that kid. It’s special” I say to her. She looks at me with a smile.

I decide to lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes for a moment. I feel someone approach and a tiny head lay in my lap. I glance down to see Omega curling up to me, with my helmet still in her arms. She trusts too easily. Some day that might hurt her….like it did me….the only difference is, she’s got them and I had no one. Let’s just hope that’s enough.

Next Chapter

***A/N***

Thanks for reading! This is a little different than my last Fic but I thought I’d throw something else out there. I didn’t find a whole lot of Hunter Fics and definitely not one with a Mandalorian OC or reader so I figured I’d give it a shot. Let me know what you think!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #79

It's very late here, so today's letter will likely be shorter than normal. But even though I'm very tired, I still wanted to make sure you knew that someone out here is thinking good things about you and wishing for nice things upon you.

My mind is still fairly empty today. I feel pretty tired for a variety of reasons. Some of it is the simple fact that we are going through the second part of your story, and I'm VERY worried about how things might turn out for you; I really don't want to see you get hurt, but at the same time, if you don't stop making choices that harm others, you will need to be stopped. And that's unfortunate, because I would much rather see you turn yourself around and try to become strong in the real way, instead of parroting the definition of it that was taught to you by people who didn't care about you.

The bulk of my reasons for being tired, though, is other stuff going on in my world that I can do absolutely nothing about. And a small amount of it is still me trying to recover from our long trip, and some of it is the recent changes in the social dynamics of my immediate circle. Maybe I'll try not to worry about it. Maybe instead I'll show you the most recent cups of tea I made, since… y'know… I can't actually pour any for you, much to my immense dismay.

…To give you the pictures of the tea at its most beautiful and interesting is the best I can do. And the fact that it is the best I can do is… sad, really. I'm sorry.

I had intended to go to the grocery today to get the supplies to make stuffed cabbage casserole; I was sent a beautiful-looking recipe by an awesome human being from the internet, and I wanted to give it a try. But my energy was very low today. Br offered to be a body double, and she visited, and it was wonderful. We talked a lot about various things, but I still didn't have the energy to go out before going to see R, and for various reasons, I think neither did she. I'm glad we decided to spend time at home though; it was peaceful.

Br went with J and I to go see R today though, and it was a good time. We stopped somewhere to pick up a couple of snacks, and we did some catching up with R. R is an astounding baker; I wish that you could try the things that he creates. He made bonbons for us, and peanut-butter-banana bars with chocolate chips and walnuts, and they were absolutely wonderful. And we also went out to a Thai place for food. I can't help but wonder if your world has some equivalent of Thai food somewhere. I'll show you what we got:

Have you ever had crab rangoon? Pork belly? Rice pudding? Pad Thai? Did you like them? I wonder what you think. I wonder what you think about a lot of things, actually…

There's so much I wish I could show to you. There's so much I wish I could give to you. So many things I wish you could do and see and try. I wish that you could see the world through my eyes for just a moment… just for a moment. And then maybe you'd see that although the world is broken and has a lot of pain and a lot of problems, it's still not so bad. It's really not so bad. Not everyone is mean like the people you met. And even though a lot of things might seem really weird right now, it's never hopeless. There are good things everywhere, if only you have the courage and strength to look around hard enough.

It's for this reason that I hope you'll try to become strong in the real way. Please try. Please try so that you can come back home to us. We miss you.

I'm exhausted, so I'm going to stop writing here, because if I don't, I'm going to ramble even more than I have already.

Hey, Sephiroth? Don't forget that there are people who love you out here. People who don't care about your status, fame, or whatever else, but rather… people who will make you a new locket if you lose your old one. People who will make you pumpkin soup if you're sad about missing out. People who will make you things like garlic bread and pasta. People who will make you little trinkets like music boxes and trees made of gems and songs made only of human voices. People who will write you letters just to try to show you that you're cared for. I can't be the only one out here who is like me… if only because you are a little bit like me, and you exist, even if it's only in an abstract way.

…Is any of what I can do enough though, I wonder? Enough to reach you? Enough to move you? If you don't turn around… will it be because I didn't try hard enough…?

…Maybe these questions are ridiculous. Maybe I really am just tired. There's so much that I don't know… and sometimes that scares me.

I can't wish you were here in good conscience, because things where I am are looking pretty bleak sometimes. But I can instead wish that you could be somewhere safe, wholesome, and happy.

I'll write again. Though I'm not sure what about.

Your friend, Lumine