#i can’t just say to someone who doesn’t know me we’ll messaging me i’m digging even deeper into pripyat and reading about the nuclear power

[stabyou]

where’s my autistic besties with hyperfixations that are too niche or specific to ever just get into in normal conversation

[thatgoblin]

Summary: Despite digging your heels in for months, you finally move in with John.

Warnings: Lots of Scottish swearing.

“Love, why is it so cold?” John asked as he walked into the house. Arms full of groceries, he found me bundled up and on a chair as I tried to open a vent.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’ve been muckin’ about with the thermostat for almost two hours and it keeps spittin’ out cold air. I dinna ken to do.”

“Oh, I’m glad I know Scottish people,” John said softly as he set the food on the counter. Coming over, he picked me up to set me on the ground. “Let me see if I can figure it out.”

“I already called the landlord and he said he’d be here an hour ago and he’s not messaged or called,” I said as I grabbed a blanket to wrap myself in.

“He never does,” John grumbled as he took off the thermostat cover to test the batteries. A few more minutes of him checking things out and he too couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “Everything looks good, but it doesn’t make sense. Why won’t it work? Call your landlord again. Tell him it’s the middle of winter and you’re pregnant and need heat.”

“He knows I’m pregnant and it’s the middle of winter. He will be here at some point,” I said.

“Love, you can’t just wait and hope he shows up,” John said, beginning to put items away.

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. Part of the therapy we had been going to was focused on my constant road blocking and not letting anyone near to help. I needed to work on being able to instantly say no to things John offered to help with. For him though, he was working on not pushing me when I said no to things that did not need to be pushed. The heating was something we needed to get fixed ASAP though.

I grabbed my phone to give the landlord a call as John went back to tinkering with the heating. His phone rang and rang and rang, eventually it went to voicemail and that was full. I sent him a text as well, hoping he’d get back to me soon.

“No answer,” I said with a sigh.

“I know you want to stay here, but for tonight or until the heating is fixed, come stay at my place,” John said. Taking a moment to look around, I nodded.

“Okay. I’ll pack my bag. If you want to put the groceries in the car then we’ll head over.” It didn’t take long before we were packed up and over at John’s. The last time I had been there, I quickly realized, was when we had hooked up for the first and only time.

“John! Hello! Haven’t seen you in a while!” A woman’s voice called from across the street as John got out of the jeep. Looking over, I saw a tall, blonde with tight clothes that showed off her assets. She quickly crossed over to give him a hug as I stayed sitting in the front seat. “How are you? It’s been ages! Still working long distances?” John was stiff, but returned the hug a bit before quickly letting go.

“Yeah, still working on remote stations,” he said with a nod. Jealousy didn’t come naturally to me, at least in the sense that I got jealous over a partner. This wasn’t jealousy that had me hopping out of the jeep to walk over to them.

“Hi,” I said, standing next to John with a soft smile. My hands rested on my large belly that was hard to miss. “Who’s this, Jo?”

“This is my neighbor, Camilla,” John said, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She checks on my plants and gets my mail for me when I go on long business trips. Camilla, this is my partner.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” the woman said, holding out her hand for me to shake. “I had no idea that John had someone. I guess you’ve kept him all to yourself for the most part. You’re going to have to learn to share.”

“Kinda I guess,” I said, chuckling as I shook her hand. “We have groceries to get in, Jo.”

“Right,” John said. “It was good to see you again, Camilla. We’ll be seeing you.” He gave her a nod and wave before guiding me back to the jeep for us to grab our groceries and bags.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Camilla called before walking back to her house.

After getting everything inside and put away, I turned to John.

“Before you say anything-”

“Jo, she’s fuckin’ on it,” I cut him off with a snicker. “Don’t worry, I trust you. Her, not so much.”

“Let’s just get you settled in,” he said with a heavy sigh. Giggling, I helped him unpack the groceries before we moved my bags to the bedroom. I hadn’t been there since we had first met. “Is it just how you remember it?”

“Is it bad that I don’t remember it at all?” I asked with a wince. John barked out a laugh as he shook his head.

“Considering you were walking out with your shoes in hand, no. It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Here, let’s put your things in the dresser.”

“You don’t have to clear out a drawer for me,” I said, ready to just pull stuff out of my bags. John snorted, rolling his eyes as he opened several already empty drawers of the dresser. “Oh, well then.”

“I may have had a few things ready for if you came over,” he said, dropping a kiss to my head.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said, getting to work in putting my clothes away. “It is a nice house and now I feel bad I never came over till now.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you were hesitant and we’re working to get better together,” he said, carrying my toothbrush and hygiene products to the bathroom. The bed was a full size, something I hadn’t recalled, but then again I had been busy. Putting my body pillow that I cuddled and the super soft blanket that I had to have to pet when I was falling asleep. I didn’t want to tell John he needed a bigger bed, but with just the body pillow on it, it looked pretty small.

Just as I was changing from my trainers to my slippers, my phone rang. It was my landlord. A quick conversation and he would be over the next day.

“What’s the verdict?” John asked, coming back in.

“He said he’d be there tomorrow. Something came up,” I said with a groan.

“I’m not going to push you, but-”

“If I’m moving in, you need a bigger bed,” I said, cutting him off. John grinned as he came over to sit next to me.

“You really want to move in?” He asked, pulling me close to sit in his lap.

“At this rate, the landlord won’t have anything fixed. We’ll have to figure out what to bring in and what can be sold or put into storage, but we need to be in a better home when the baby comes,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Especially if you have to go on a mission and I’m left here alone with the ween. A sturdy house that has a Camilla instead of a flaky landlord.”

John rolled his eyes as I giggled, kissing his nose.

The rest of the evening was spent making a delicious dinner as we planned on what was needed of my things versus what John already had. Lists were made as we talked excitedly about what room to pick for the baby as well. John’s house was a two story townhouse that his parents had left him in their will, which meant our girl would be growing up in his childhood home. It made me a bit weepy because it was something good and warm and happy that we could give her that I didn’t have. I wanted her to have the opposite of what I did growing up and John’s home was perfect for that.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“How do you feel about having a pet?” John asked as I made breakfast the next morning.

“A pet? Like a bird or a cat?” I asked, slicing some fruit to put on the oatmeal.

“Well, like a dog,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. I had to abstain from my usual 3 cups for the last five months and I missed it. “I was thinking maybe having a big dog with you while I’m away would be nice.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “That sounds like more work, especially with a baby. Besides, I still need to figure out my own job and what I’m going to do. I’m sure they’re about to let me go because I’ve missed so much work. Pregnant or not, they need someone there and I’m not getting paid.”

“What if you didn’t get another job?” John asked. “You could be a stay at home mum and not have to worry about that.”

“What, so I can be barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen non-stop?” I snorted. “I need to do something, Jo. Whether it’s a job or picking up classes for computer training, just something.”

“That’s fair, but if you need time between jobs and making a decision on what to do, I will support you. If you want to even go so far as to not get ‘free money’ we can say you’re doing my house keeping,” John said. I had to cackle at that. “What? I’m serious!”

“I know and I appreciate it,” I said, moving to hug him. “I know money makes things sticky, but we are kind of bound together by a child and I’m moving in, so I would appreciate the monetary help.”

“We can set up a joint account so you have money for bills that aren’t on autopay with mine. It will make things easy so we both have our own accounts but it’s easier to send one another money if necessary,” John said, kissing my head as he rubbed my back, rocking us as we stood in the kitchen.

“I like that plan,” I said, smiling up at him. We were finding our rhythm and the counseling was working. I actually was realizing how happy I was compared to before him. John wasn’t the sole thing to keep me happy and sane, but he definitely was a part of it.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Guess who I brought home!” John called from the front door as I came up from the basement having been busy with laundry. We had agreed on a dog and after looking at some pictures and reading up on breeds that were good with kids, we had decided on a German Shepherd/Bernese Mountain mix. He was two years old and at a shelter nearby, we had decided to adopt as well after finding out how much pure bred dogs went for as well as what went into making them. I was in love with the big, goofy looking guy the moment I saw him. He looked a lot like a Shepherd, but his ears were floppy and his coat was thick with more of the Bernese coloring than the Shepherd’s.

“Hello, sweetie,” I cooed, coming to greet the pair. The dog wasn’t wild, but he was clearly excited as he sniffed everything. I let John lead him over, a rubber muzzle on him for the time being. Some training would be necessary, but we both wanted this and knew it would be worth it in the long run. Holding out my hand, I let him sniff it curiously before getting a few kisses through the muzzle. “Aww, thank you Darlin’,” I said, close to tears at how kind and gentle he was being. The hormones had made me mostly sweaty and achy, up until the last week and then the emotions started and I couldn’t help but get weepy over the smallest thing.

“Welcome home, Cromwell,” John said, smiling as I began to pet the pup.

“Cromwell?” I asked, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s that from?”

“Oliver Cromwell was a general for the New Model Army in the 1600s,” John said, reaching down to give firm side pats. I knew he was interested in British military history, so it didn’t sound odd, but I knew that name somehow. A quick google search had me sighing heavily. “What?”

“The New Model Army, specifically Oliver Cromwell fought against the Scots to colonize them,” I said, narrowing my eyes and pursing my lips.

“Oh. . .” He said, realizing the issue.

“We’re not naming our dog after a fuckin’ colonizer. You’re lucky I’m not holding it against you for colonizing my uterus,” I said with a huff.

“I don’t know about that,” John said.

“The fuck ye mean ye dinna ken ‘bout it!?” I cried, getting a loud bark and awoo from the dog. “See! He’s a Scot! We’re not naming him after the bastard!” John groaned, sighing as I bent over to baby talk and love on our furry son.

“Then what should we name him?” John asked. I stood up straight and settled him with a menacing smirk. “Oh no.”

“Well, I’m from Lochend, so why not Nessie?” I said. “Are you a Nessie? Yes? Is your name Nessie?” I babbled at the dog who began to dance and whine as he became excited with me.

“Jesus Christ, fine, his name is Nessie,” John said, shaking his head at us.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Are you okay?” John asked, eyes a bit wide as he stared at me and Nessie. I was on the couch with the dog curled up next to me, watching Archer on the TV.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, looking from the screen to his concerned face.

“Your belly. . . Is the baby doing that?”

I had a plate of pickles, olives, and crisps with dip on my belly and my child was making the biggest surf waves as she stretched and moved around. The plate was like a surfboard, riding the waves.

“Aye,” I said. “She’s just gettin’ her calisthenics in,” I said with a shrug, turning back to the TV.

“It. . . It doesn’t hurt?” He asked, just keeping his eyes trained on my belly.

“I mean, it feels weird, but I’ve gotten used to it. She’s been doing this for a while now, Jo. You’re just able to see it more now because she’s gettin’ bigger,” I said, chuckling as he shifted, crossing his arms then quickly putting his hands on his hips. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking from my belly to my face then back to my belly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Jo!” I screamed from the kitchen. “JOHN! GET IN HERE!” There was a feral growling coming from inside the cupboard as I held it shut. John barrelled into the room with Nessie right behind him.

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking around to assess the threat.

“There’s a BIRD in the cupboard!” I cried, pointing to the shut door as singing replaced the growls.

“What do you mean a bird? How did a bird get in?” John asked, coming over to shoo me off to the side.

“I had a window open to clean it and it just flew in,” I said, looking around him at the singing cupboard. “It came in like a fucking fighter pilot at me head and then it hovered around the kitchen before going to the mugs. I think it might have shit in there.”

“What the bleedin’ hell?” John muttered as he peeked into the cabinet. “Oh Jesus, Love,” he groaned as he opened the door to show a bird the size of my hand with a white head and light blue body in a glass jar. It was bobbing and singing as it literally vibrated itself in circles now and then. “It’s just a little budgie,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s probably someone’s pet that got loose.”

“You can have a bird as a pet?” I asked, looking on confused as John mirrored my expression back at me. “Don’t look at me like that!”

~::~::~::~::~::~

“It’s just until we find the owner or a foster home for it,” John said, pulling the sheet over the large birdcage. After an emergency run to the store, we found ourselves with a dog and a bird.

“Jo, I don’t know how to take care of a bird, not even for a few days. What are we going to do if we don’t find the owner? I’m just learning to take care of a dog and soon a wee babe!” I sighed. “I’m just not an animal person, I’m sorry. We never had any growing up, save for Johnny’s gerbil, Dalglish, that he lost after having it for a week. It never came back.”

“Your brother’s gerbil ran away from home?” John asked, snickering as Nessie looked at the covered cage with worry. At least it looked like worry. He whined a bit, but hearing John say his name and he was quiet. John and I were working hard to train him and it was definitely paying off. Part of me was worried that he’d try and eat the bird, but so far he just stared in concern.

“None of us knew how to take care of anything! No one taught us! It was a gift for his birthday when he was 11 and from one of our aunts. I don’t remember which one,” I explained. “You’re lucky I know how to take care of you.”

“For which I am thankful,” John snorted. “But I’m also a grown man.”

“Which proves why animals are a big step and we need to find someone to take the bird,” I said. “So don’t get attached.”

~::~::~::~::~::~

“Aw, thank you, you wee babe,” I cooed at Bonnie, the budgie, as she walked around my shoulder and made kissy noises at me.

“What happened to you not being an animal person?” John asked as I made posters of her to put up.

“Mind yer own business,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~

The ADHD was really ramping up with the hormone shift. The staring off into space while forgetting what I was doing. That wasn’t the case at the moment. John was grunting and huffing as he was putting together the crib we had just bought. It was supposed to be done in 20 minutes, but the instructions only came in French apparently. So John was doing his best to go off the pictures. I stood in the doorway, watching as he sat on his knees and staring at the large unfolded paper. He was concentrating, furrowing his brow as he rolled up his plaid button up sleeves to get them out of the way. It was a few minutes of standing there, staring at him while fantasizing about doing something else than putting the crib together, before he looked up.

“Can I help you?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You’re lucky I’m pregnant right now or I’d be making you put a baby inside me now,” I said, earning a gruff laugh.

~::~::~::~::~::~

“You’re finally speaking to your brother because you need him to side with you on this argument?” John asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as I called Johnny.

“Aye,” I growled.

“ ‘lo?” Johnny’s voice was confused and probably nervous.

“ ‘ey, yer on speaker. Tell John he’s a fuckin’ right bastard for tryin’ to name the baby Margaret?”

“What!? Sir! The fuck ‘re ye on about!? Respectfully, Price, what the fuck!?”

“It was a suggestion!” John cried, throwing his hands up in the air.

“A shite one!” Johnny yelled. “No niece of mine will be named after that fuckin’ badger of a cock muncher!”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” John asked, looking confused.

“Margaret Thatcher,” I said, staring at him.

“. . . Do you know your father, Mike, do you know his nickname from SAS?” John asked.

“No, I dunno none of ‘em,” I said with a sigh.

“I’m not opening up this can of worms,” John said quickly walking away.

“So. . . Are we good now?” Johnny asked from the phone.

“Aye, we’re good. Just don’t tell our parents a thing about me,” I said.

“Understood. . . Simon just got me some Irn-Bru, do you want any?”

“I’m offended that you have to ask. I live with John now, so bring it over.”

“On the way.”

“Oh, by the way, John knows about Dalglish.”

“NOT DALGLISH!”

<<<Previous

Masterlist

COD Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @xaestheticalien

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 16 - Scare Tactics

Missed a chapter? Catch up here!!

The communicator narrowly missed Nicks' head.

“YOU TOLD ME SHE WAS DEAD!” The Nameless shrieked.

“I told you she might still be alive, and you believed it too,” Nicks replied as flatly as possible, trying not to betray any emotion, “you said you were sure she was dead, once you were unable to track her down.”

In the months since their partnership had begun, Nicks had grown increasingly wary of her partner's mental probing. She'd paid a black market engineer handsomely to modify her golden snake mask to emit a low-level psychic signal to mask her deeper thoughts. Surface thoughts were still easily readable, but any attempt to dig deeper would find only static.

This served two functions: The first was allowing her to relax her mental discipline occasionally, without fear that her thoughts would slip through. The second was to make the Nameless believe Nicks was unprotected without the helmet, and sell the illusion that she really was as shallow as her surface thoughts appeared.

The Nameless was absolutely furious when she found out about this, but Nicks cleverly framed it as a preventative measure in case their enemies managed to figure out her secret and gain powers of her own, and while the Nameless knew this was a line of bullshit, she also knew questioning it would make her appear weak, and she decided, as she often did, to silently resent her partner for enforcing a boundary.

“Who cares who said she was dead?!” The Nameless said. “Can-Do just messaged me. She's been alive and in hiding for months.”

“Your mole is texting you again?” Nicks asked. “I thought she was supposed to be dead too.”

“Ariadne's kept them in some sort of comms barricade,” the Nameless said. “Looks like she's found a way through it. She's risking everything to contact us. That's what real loyalty looks like.”

“Has she given you any useful information?” Nicks asked.

“Ariadne's working on something big, but she won't tell anybody what it is. Whatever it is, it's nowhere near done,” she said. “We gotta do something quick if we're gonna stay ahead of her.”

“You may recall that I've been saying we should do something to draw her out ever since you 'killed' her in the assault on the base,” Nicks said, pushing aside the workbook she'd been writing in. Despite having entered this partnership for an alternative to running a crime family, somehow she'd ended up simply running a crime family, and she hated every moment of it. “Luckily, that means I'm prepared. If you want to draw her out, I have a plan that'll do just that.”

The Nameless smiled– always an unsettling sight– and said, “That's what I like to hear.”

“I've already set it in motion. If all goes to plan, we'll be able to meet with the necessary parties within the hour,” Nicks said.

The Nameless' smile dropped away. “I only told you Ariadne was alive a few minutes ago.”

“This is why you keep me onboard,” Nicks said, “I keep all our bases covered. If Ariadne's dead, no harm is done. If she's alive, we're prepared, and she can't take us by surprise.”

“Smart,” the Nameless said, “good looking out. You never know what sort of lows someone like that will stoop to.”

“But, let me do the talking,” Nicks told her. “I don't mean to offend, but, I don't want to scare them off.”

Nicks had a point. There had been a marked change in the Nameless' appearance ever since she'd taken Father Y's pill. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and their muted gray color had shifted into a dull orange. Her skin had never had much color to it, but was now downright ashen. Her hair had grown greasy and tangled. Her overall demeanor was now twitchy and erratic, and she was quicker to lash out, but when she wasn't moving, she looked for all the world like a corpse.

“I'll need you in the wings,” Nicks said, “these people are a powder keg of hate and anger. All you need to do is light it, and we can start unmaking everything Ariadne worked for. If she doesn't show up after this, I don't know what will get her.”

An hour later, Nicks found herself standing before a packed auditorium. The Rizzo Army had put out the call, and by god, dozens of people had responded.

“Welcome, concerned parents of our solar system,” Nicks said. “If you're here, that means you too have lost someone to the scourge that is Ariadne's Angels.”

She heard many mutters of assent from the audience.

“She's decided you're unfit to parent your children,” Nicks read from her card, “because she disagrees with your family values. She doesn't think you should have the right to decide how to discipline your own flesh and blood! She attacks those blessed with prosperity and corrupts your children into her deviant lifestyle!”

The crowd was now cheering.

“And she has the gall to call you abusive!” Nicks announced. “I understand we have the former board of directors of the Buchanan Corporation in the house tonight! She stole trillions of your hard-earned dollars! Think of the jobs she destroyed for her greed! And you're not the only ones! Everyone in this auditorium has lost their children, or their livelihood, or their business to this pirate's crimes! But now I'm here to give you the chance to get it all back!”

Nicks knew full-well that the audience was full of some of the foulest people who'd ever lived. Ariadne had a moral code. The parents who'd lost children to Ariadne had, almost unilaterally, lost them because they beat their children, or worse. The people who'd lost money to her had been plutocrats whose fortunes were built on exploitation, and their money was being put to much better use now.

But that didn't matter to Nicks' plan. All that mattered was the spin, and that it outraged all the right people. They already had an army, but this rhetoric would embolden every reactionary in the system. The remaining plutocrats would become more brazenly corrupt. The parents who continued to rule their children's lives with an iron fist would crack down even harder. Ariadne would have no choice but to come out of hiding and strike at them just to stem the tide of cruelty she was about to unleash.

“The Rizzo Army will bring down this menace,” Nicks announced, “join up with us today and we will return your children and your money to you!”

The crowd roared with applause. More importantly, video of the address would be automatically sent to all the system's major news networks, and posted on the FTLnet. Soon enough, they'd post a manifesto chock full of inflammatory rhetoric, and Ariadne would have no choice but to attack.

“In two weeks, we'll strike her in her home!” Nicks said. “We're going to occupy Mars!”

***

Ariadne knocked loudly on the door of La Pesadilla's high-rise apartment.

“Hang on, hang on, I hear ya,” the old woman grunted through the door. She pulled it open a few inches without undoing the chain, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke, most of which they had to imagine had not come from the cigarette she was currently smoking. “Who's there?”

“You know exactly who it is,” Ariadne said, “I contacted you on the way here to tell you we were coming. Look, I didn't even fix your elevator this time.”

Ariadne was lying.

“Ah, hey brat. Gimme a minute, gotta undo the goddamn chain.” La Pesadilla closed the door. When it opened, she gestured at Ariadne with a machete. Spacebreather reflexively pulled her back. “Are you out of your fucking mind?! Do you know what kind of hurricane of fuck you've let loose?!”

“Like Grandmother, like Granddaughter,” Pilar commented.

“Ech, come on in,” La Pesadilla said. “Might as well. I ain't got shit going on in here no more.”

Ariadne and Pilar sat down on the old, dusty couch with its plastic slip-covers, and La Pesadilla sat two lukewarm glasses of dingy lemonade before them. It was little gestures like this that really showed how her grandmotherly instincts paired with her complete disgust with things like “people” and “hospitality.”

“If you're looking for information,” La Pesadilla asked, slumping down into her old, beat-up rocking chair, “I ain't got none. Your little friend is driving us hardworking blackmailers out of the game with her mind-reading trick. She knows everybody's secrets before I do, and if she catches them paying out to anybody else, she just kills 'em.”

“Believe it or not, we're not here for information this time,” Spacebreather said. “Blue says you guys have been more in the protection racket ever since the blackmail game dried up.”

“Don't tell me you two brats need protection,” she said.

“No, actually,” Ariadne said, “what we need is firepower and manpower. The Nameless plans to occupy Mars, and I don't want to endanger my crew any more than I need to. For manpower, I hear you know where to find the mercs that wouldn't join up with the Rizzo Army.”

“Do you know how much I'm getting paid to keep the location of Merctown secret?” She asked. “It's gonna take a lot to get me to give that information up.”

“For firepower… I need you to call your people and tell them I'm ready to make a deal.”

“Ain't got no people,” La Pesadilla said. “Just me.”

“I'm not playing games here, Pesadilla,” Ariadne said. “I need you to put me in contact with the Oort.”

La Pesadilla put out her cigarette. “I don't know who you been talkin' to, but–”

She was silenced abruptly when Ariadne produced the coin Blue had given her.

“Where'd you get that?”

“From the woman herself,” Ariadne said. “Told me you'd give me what I want if I showed it to you.”

“Fuck no, not if you show it to me,” she said. “Give it to me, that's a horse of a different color.”

La Pesadilla reached for it, and Ariadne pulled it back. “Why, what is it?”

“A favor,” she said. “No questions asked, no strings attached. A favor from Blue is worth Jupiter's weight in gold.”

“She's your granddaughter,” Pilar pointed out.

“Yeah, and I taught her how to do business,” she said, “and she didn't get where she was by makin' exceptions for Lola.”

“Kinda makes me feel like we'd be better off keeping the coin,” Ariadne said, “what do you think, querida?”

“I mean, we don't even know if she can really help us.”

“Wait!” La Pesadilla said. “I'll do it, if you just gimme that thing.”

“It's yours,” Ariadne said. “Once we have what we want. Send the location of Merctown to my communicator, and set a meeting with a representative of the Oort for the end of the week. We have some other business to attend to.”

“Payment up front,” La Pesadilla demanded. “How do I know you're not trying to cheat me?”

“How do we know you're not trying to cheat us?” Pilar pointed out.

Ariadne tossed her a credit chip. “An advance payment. Good-faith money. If we don't deliver, you'll at least break even.”

“Break even?!” La Pesadilla said. “This can't possibly be enough money to–”

“That chip gives you access to an offworld account containing a trillion dollars stolen from the Buchanan Corp,” Ariadne said. “A drip in the bucket compared to all we made on that job, but it should more than cover how much you stand to lose.”

“Congratulations, Pesadilla,” Pilar said, “You just became the richest woman on Calisto.”

La Pesadilla lit another cigarette. “Shee-it,” she said, “you girls ought to start selling favors! You got your wish. I'll send the intel to your communicator ASAP.”

“Knew we could count on you,” Ariadne said. “Give my best to your son-in-law.”

“That little bitch?” La Pesadilla said. “Don't know how my badass piece-of-shit granddaughter came out of that herb's balls.”

“Lovely,” Ariadne says. “Querida, we gotta go.”

Spacebreather knocked back her lemonade, and they hustled out the door.

“If I find out you fixed my elevator again,” La Pesadilla called after them, but they were already gone, “ah, who am I kiddin'. It's easy enough to break.”

“Did she help you?” Sweettalk asked, when Ariadne and Pilar got back to the ship. Sasha, Alicia, and Ghostrunner were waiting eagerly for answers.

“She did,” Ariadne said, “but we have more important things to worry about right now.”

Ariadne pulled out Can-Do's communicator and dialed up a message to the Nameless.

“You sure you want to do this?” Pilar asked. “When she sees what we've done, she'll know her mole is compromised. We won't be able to use this ruse again.”

“I'm sure,” Ariadne said. “Sweettalk, is the false flag broadcasting?”

“Loud and clear,” Sweettalk replied. She was currently remotely operating a broadcasting tower on Triton, Neptune's moon, issuing a challenge to the Nameless to meet them on the surface for one last showdown.

The Nameless would surely clock this as a trap and ignore it. All Ariadne had to do now was point her in the direction of the real trap and let her go on believing she had the upper hand.

She tapped out a simple but clear message, imitating the style Can-Do used in her communications as best she could:

“DECOY BASE ON TRITON IS A TRAP. ARIADNE'S REAL HIDEOUT ON PLUTO. HEAVILY GUARDED, HEAVILY CLOAKED. THINKS MOLE DEAD, TURNED OFF COMMS BARRICADE. CAN TURN ON LOCATION TO LEAD YOU TO HER.”

She fired it off, and moments later, three little dots appeared on the screen. The Nameless was typing her reply.

“THX. KEEP LOCATION ON. THAT WAY MERCS WILL KNOW NOT TO KILL YOU.”

Ariadne tapped out her reply.

“SEND HEAVY FORCES. SHE'S READY FOR A FIGHT.”

Three dots again.

“WILL DO. BE READY.”

Ariadne smiled. She bought it. It was a win-win:

Either the Nameless believed Triton was a false flag that she'd seen through and would send most of her forces to Pluto to eradicate her, or she would believe the message from “Can-Do” was a false flag she'd seen through, and send most of her forces to Triton to eradicate her. The trick was letting her believe she was being led away from Ariadne's location. The worst case scenario was that the Nameless did nothing and their real target remained heavily guarded, and if that were the case, they'd know in plenty of time to make their escape.

But it wouldn't be the case. Doing nothing would be tantamount to admitting Ariadne was smarter than her, and the Nameless was incapable of having a higher opinion of someone else than she had of herself.

Ariadne said. “Location switching on automatically in 60 seconds. You're up, Fastwing.”

She tossed the communicator over to Alicia, who caught it and placed it in a stasis-field over the ship's teleporter pad. “Sending it now.”

In a flash of blue light, the communicator vanished. Seconds later, it reappeared on the surface of Pluto.

The Rizzo Army would be on their way any second.

“Punch it, Querida,” Ariadne said, “we're taking back our home.”

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Shut Me Up

A/N: Here’s another smutty one-shot. I felt like something a little cliche so here it is. This was so fun to write! I’m still finding my footing in this fandom as a writer but I think I wanna start taking requests, the next fic I have coming out will be a request and I’m having fun with it so shoot me a message if there’s something you wanna see. I’ve just put together my Masterlist so you can check out my other fics there :)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N don’t exactly get on well. Will they be able to work out some of their frustration when they’re forced to share a room for the night?

Category: Pure smut baby

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, name calling, light choking, hair pulling, scratching, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3850 words

The hotel is somehow worse than usual. It’s got so few rooms that they just narrowly grab enough for the whole team. But few enough that they have to bunk. Y/N didn't love sharing a room but it was better than having nowhere to sleep at all.

Prentiss tosses her a key, “That’s you and Reid” she says it so nonchalant that Y/N almost doesn’t notice it. Once in clicks in her head though she races down the hall.

“Hey, hey wait!” She calls out, a little too desperate, “Emily you can’t put me with Reid. We’ll kill each other.”

She laughs at that, it was on open secret amongst the team that Y/N and Spencer had something of a rivalry going. Bitter sworn enemies apparently. No one really bought it though. People who really truly hated each other would be a lot better at avoiding one another. But Y/N and Spencer could never seem to keep apart for very long.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to put your differences aside for a night.” she waves Y/N off as she heads into her own room, leaving her stranded in the hallway. Contemplating if the reception area might let her crash on the couch, she could even spend the night in one of the SUVs, the seats reclined far enough.

But that was stupid, why should she be the one who had to be uncomfortable, why not Spencer.

When she arrived at the door of her own room Spencer was slumped up against it, he stood up straight once he saw her coming.

“Took you long enough” he spat, reaching to take the key from her but she pulled it back before he had the chance.

“I was on the hunt for alternative sleeping arrangements” she huffs, unlocking the door.

“To no avail I presume?” he jokes but he’s just met with an eye roll.

“I’m taking the bed by the window” she stakes her claim before they even get through the door. Once they’re inside he lets out a chuckle.

“You’re welcome to the side of the bed by the window?” he jokes.

This was infinitely worse than she thought it was going to be. Where there were usually two generally uncomfortable twin beds in these standard small-town motels, instead there was a queen sized bed, staring at them as they stood at the foot of it.

“I get the bed” she says like she’s calling shotgun.

“Bullshit you get the bed, there’s nowhere else to sleep!” he complains.

She takes a second to scan the room, no sofa, no arm chair, the floor is a scratchy carpet. There’s no real option here. “You can sleep on the desk?” she suggests, and she’s not serious about it, but she wouldn’t say no if he agreed.

“Are you kidding me?” he almost shouts.

“Soft mattresses are bad for your back! Maybe it’ll sort out your posture?” she adds.

“There’s nothing wrong with my posture” he groans, massaging his temple.

“Okay sure, you tell yourself that”

They don’t say anything more about it as they unpack. Showering and changing for bed in silence. When Y/N comes out from he bathroom, Spencer is sitting up on one side of the bed, reading through case files by the light of the bedside lamp.

“Are you serious?” she whines.

“Look, we both need rest, just shut up and get over yourself” he says it without looking up from the file in his hand, his finger running over the lines at speed.

She doesn’t respond, she just climbs in on the other side, keeping herself as close to the edge of the mattress as possible to keep the distance in between them.

She lies like that for about 45 minutes but sleep’s just not coming.

“Are you ever gonna turn off that fucking light, I thought we ‘needed rest’” she mocks, turning over to look at him, still combing through the files, mumbling to himself every once in a while.

“We’ll both be useless tomorrow if we don’t get any sleep” she tries to convince him with a slightly more sincere tone.

This case wasn’t easy, the unsub had been abducting victims he’d met in online BDSM chatrooms. Bodies had been turning up murdered in ways that the victims had previously expressed were turn-ons. Suffocated, whipped, tied up in peculiar ways. There wasn’t much information to go on now, they just had to wait for the next body to turn up but that didn’t keep Spencer from pouring over everything a hundred times.

When he wasn’t being purposefully irritating Y/N honestly admired his work ethic. Just not when it was interfering with her much needed sleep.

“The bare minimum of sleep most humans need to live is just 4 hours in a 24 hour period” he blurts out, still not looking up.

“Well I’m not most humans, so knock it off”

He finally concedes, chucking his files onto the bedside table and shutting off the lamp. It’s now eerily quiet, and all she can hear is the steady breathing coming from the other side of the bed.

Enough time passes that she really should be asleep but it’s still not happening. So she’s already beyond irritated when she feels a slight shove against her shoulder.

“Hey, you still awake?” he sounds mischievous, she knows that tone of his voice and she doesn't like it.

“God! I am now! What do you want?” she mumbles into her pillow.

“I’ve just got a question” he says defensively.

She hums and rolls over to face him, he’s wide awake, “Well? Out with it” she encourages, the sooner this is over with the better.

His mouth twists into a smirk as he takes a minute to study her face, “What turns you on?” he asks it sincere, and she has no idea what to do with that.

Rolling her eyes on instinct she groans, “Ugh, are you serious? I was so close to getting to sleep, goodnight asshole.” she turns back around to end the conversation but he can’t leave it there.

“I’m serious actually, just all the talk about it earlier, I wanna know”

She doesn’t move as she speaks, remaining with her back to him in a bid not to engage, “You couldn’t handle that information.” She deadpans.

“Try me” he antagonizes, and that’s enough to set her off. He just didn’t know when to quit.

This could be a fun new way to tease him, is her first thought. Turn him on, leave him wanting, yet another game to add to their repertoire of spite.

“Fine I’ll give.” she turns back to him, staring intently this time, “Here’s one, I really get off on having my hair pulled” she scoots closer so she can lean in and whisper the next part, “like when I’m getting fucked from behind, or I’ve got someone’s cock down my throat. I love having my hair pulled, just the short sharp pain of it.” she sort of moans the last little bit right by his ear before settling back on her own pillow.

“That good enough?” she asks, and she can practically see his breath catch in his chest.

He takes a steady gulp, “Yeah, that was, informative” he breathes.

“And what about you?” she poses, he’s not getting out of this one so easy. He looks shocked, like he didn’t see this coming a mile off.

“Me? Uh—” he stutters, “My back, I get really— I get turned on when someone digs their nails into my back, like scratching and marking” something about seeing him flustered like this is almost endearing.

“I guess we’re both suckers for pain” she winks as she says it, making a move to turn around again in a bid to let the conversation die but he doesn’t give her the chance.

“Tell me another” he pleads, and she’s not sure what his expression means but she might just draw this out, see how far she can can tease this.

“Hmm, nosy aren't we?” she smirks, he doesn't respond, just waits for an answer. She thinks for a moment, “Have you ever choked anyone Dr. Reid?”

His breath hitches, and he shakes his head. She likes this new Spencer, the one that doesn’t seem to have some quip for her every two seconds.

“Well I think you might like it, you’ve got nice strong hands, long fingers too. I feel like they might make it the whole way round my neck if you tried?” her voice is soft like velvet as she speaks. He lets out a short pant, and she can see his eyes flicker down to her exposed throat before quickly coming back to her eyes.

“Does the idea of that turn you on Doc?” she teases.

“I— um—” he’s at a loss for words yet again.

“That’s not an answer now is it?” She taunts him, and moves to turn around once again. Feeling accomplished in her goal, finally about to get some sleep. But she’s barely closed her eyes when she can feel him move. He’s so close behind her that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slowly reaches around and grasps her throat gently, she moves herself further into his grip on instinct and he runs with it. Using the leverage to pull himself right up behind her, and she can feel it. He’s hard, and she can feel him pushing himself right up against her ass.

“Is this a satisfactory answer?” he moves in close and whispers against her ear. She’s changed her mind, maybe this is her favorite Spencer.

“Mmhmm” she hums in response, and his fingers tighten around her neck. She pushes her ass further back, moving it up and down slightly to create some friction and she can feel him twitching through the thin layer of her nightdress. He starts to move with her, grinding against her, his other hand resting on her hip, fingertips digging in so that he can pull her closer.

She tries to moan when she feels his nails dig into her but it gets stifled in her throat.

“You sound pathetic” he whispers, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re whining like a little slut” her hips buck involuntarily at that. “You like it when I call you names?” he teases.

The hand on her hip starts to pull at her nightdress, inching it up higher and higher until his fingers are on her bare skin. He digs his nails in just slightly and drags them around her thigh, letting them settle right at the hem of her panties.

“I bet if I put my fingers in here I’d find you soaking wet for me already?” When she doesn’t answer he tightens the hand around her throat so that it’s almost cutting off the air supply, then loosens immediately. “Answer me” he demands.

“Yes! Yes!” she moans, anything to get his hands to move where she wanted them.

“That’s what I thought” he laughs and lets go of her completely. Her dress hiked up, breathing ragged. She snaps back around to look at him and he’s already curled up on his side of the bed as though nothing’s happened. Left in shock she sits upright, crossing her arms across her chest.

“What the fuck was that?” she has to stop herself from outright shouting at him.

He turns back to look at her, taking in her sullen expression, “Disappointed are we?” he teases with a smirk. And that look makes her want to kill him.

“You’re such a dick” she huffs, and he sits upright next to her.

“You say that like I didn’t just beat you at your own game?” he tries to fight back.

“You didn’t beat me!” she protests

“Oh really, and how’s that?”

“I could feel you, you were rock hard before you even touched me” she spits it out, because if she turned him on first then somehow this didn’t feel as embarrassing.

“Yeah! Because you were teasing me!” he looks frustrated now,

“Exactly! Because I was teasing you, and you fucking liked it” he just rolls his eyes at that, pretending like it’s somehow not true.

“Shut the fuck up” he groans, running his hands through his hair and letting his head fall back against the headboard.

She quirks an eyebrow and looks straight into his sleepy eyes, “Make me.”

In less than a second his hands are on her again, grabbing and pulling her into his lap. One hand is firmly on her back, holding her tight against his chest, the other is tangled in her hair already. Grabbing fistfuls as their lips work against each other.

It’s heated, and ferocious, full of pent up aggression, or tension, or both.

As his tongue works against hers, she lets her own hands wander over him, finally coming to rest at the back of his head, tangling in his curls. When she grinds down into his lap she can feel his cock still hard beneath her, straining against the fabric of his boxers. She thought it was impossible but it felt harder than it had been earlier.

He breaks apart the kiss and they both take in wrecked breaths, chests heaving. He pulls at the hem of her nightdress, pushing it further up her thighs, grabbing a rough handful of her ass as his hands find the exposed skin there.

“We gotta get this off” he whispers, and she nods, pulling it off over her head so that she���s exposed now. Perched in his lap in nothing but her panties. “Fuck” he moans at the sight. His hands come straight up to grab her tits, rough and exited for a moment before easing up, kneading them, getting used to the weight of them in his hands. He brings his mouth down, leaning in so that he can place sloppy open mouthed kisses along her neck and collar bones, trailing down to the valley between her breasts. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently then teasing the bud with his teeth. When he releases it and looks up at her his eyes almost look glazed over, dreamy.

“I’ve always had a thing for your tits” he confesses, his lips coming down to repeat the action on the other nipple.

“Your turn to take your shirt off” she whines as he removes his lips, the cold air hardening her nipples now that he’d teased them. He drags his eyes away from her for a second so that he can peel his shirt off over his head.

On pure instinct she rakes her nails across his now bare chest, leaning in close to place kisses into the crook of his neck, moving up painfully slow, kissing along the column of his throat, landing on the soft skin beneath his ear. She can feel the moans rippling in his throat against her lips. While he’s stilled beneath her she takes the opportunity to tuck her hands in behind him, digging her nails into his back and dragging them across the skin with force. Certainly leaving harsh red lines in their wake. The noises that escape him might be the best thing she’s ever heard.

“You like it when I mark you up?” she moans into his ear, “When I make you mine?” she can feel wetness pooling between her own legs as she says the words. The very thought of it turning her on more than she ever thought it could.

Clearly he feels the same, something erupts in him and the hands that had been resting on her hips were now lifting her up and laying her down on the bed. He was on top of her now, his hair framing his face as he looked down at her, and she was biting her fucking lip in anticipation.

He almost can’t even look directly at her so he snakes down her body, littering her torso with kisses and licks. Once he lands at her hips he takes the elastic of her panties between his teeth, pulling it up and letting it go so that it snaps against her stomach. She lets out a low moan.

“Let’s see if I was right earlier, how wet are you for me?” his voice is low as he places small kisses over the cotton, making his way right in between her legs. He pulls back for a second to inspect the fabric, there’s a damp patch covering the majority of the area, as if he didn't know already. “You’re fucking soaked Y/N” he groans and presses his fingers right up against it, forcing the fabric between her folds so that it soaks up even more, “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?”

She can only let out a small whine in response, her teeth biting into her lip so hard she was afraid she might start bleeding.

“Better get rid of these, don’t you think?” he hooks his fingers into either side of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He takes them and places them on his pillow before returning to his position between her legs.

He’s slow and deliberate in his actions, teasing painfully as he places sloppy kisses on the delicate skin inside of her thighs. Stopping right at the top to nip and suck enough to leave a bruise. Taking the time to stop and leave a matching bruise on the other thigh.

She was starting to grow restless, she felt like she was literally aching for any stimulation at all.

“Spencer” she whines, “Please, I’m so fucking turned on already”. She can feel him chuckle, his exhale sends a burst of cold air right against her pussy.

“So impatient” he chastises, but gives in anyway. Laying his tongue flat against her, taking a moment to taste her before he starts to move. Licking deft strokes along her folds, alternating with sucking softly on her clit.

“Spencer, fuck, oh my god” is all she can muster as her back arches up off the bed, her hips squirming as he pins them down. “You feel so fucking good”

He takes the encouragement and brings a finger to her entrance, pushing it in at an agonizing pace, curling it upwards against her once it’s fully inside. “You’re so fucking tight Y/N, do you think you could even handle another finger?” he has to take his mouth off of her to speak but it’s worth it for the downright filthy sounds she makes in response. He takes that as a yes and slowly pushes two fingers in this time. Bringing his lips back down to wrap around her clit and suck.

Her hands fly down to his curls as he works his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace. She grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls them harshly, not knowing where else to put the energy. “Fuck Spencer, feels so good, don’t stop” she mutters between gasps.

He continues his ministrations and he would be lying if he said the feeling of her hands pulling at his hair weren’t doing something for him.

A moment later and she’s barely able to control her movements, thrashing in the bed as he continues to work his fingers in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her walls tightening around him. Once she’s relaxed again he takes his fingers out, bringing them up to her lips, without telling her to she opens her mouth, taking the two fingers in, letting her tongue move around them to taste herself.

It’s one of the many memories from tonight he knows he wont forget anytime soon. Or ever.

“I can see why you like it” he says, leaning over her, talking into the crook of her neck, “having your hair pulled, feels fucking amazing” she lets out a weak laugh, regaining her strength.

“Told you you liked pain” she reaches down between them, grabbing his cock through his boxers, “You must’ve really liked it” she teases, squeezing as his eyes flutter shut and he nods.

He maneuvers a little so that he can take off his boxers, and finally she gets to see it. It’s perfect, bigger than she expected, it looks painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. He moves back to hover over her, lingering for a minute to take her in. She thinks there might be something almost sweet behind his expression.

“Just fuck me already” she smirks up at him and he rolls his eyes without even meaning to.

“Will you ever stop antagonizing me?”

“If you fuck me maybe?”

With that he leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, she can taste herself on his tongue as it tangles with hers. She can feel him push up against her, the head of his cock just teasing at her entrance before sinking in so slowly she was almost angry.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel so good, so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me” he’s whispering right into her hear and she can barely string together a sentence.

“Spencer, you’re so big, fill me up so good with your fingers, with your cock, fuck” as he starts to move they both start to lose it, her hands digging into his back, her nails sinking into his shoulders leaving small half-moons in his skin. He finally starts to build a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of her, filling the room with the pornographic sounds of skin on skin, coupled with their moans.

Once she can feel the familiar feeling building within her again she starts to lose control completely, her nails scratching marks into the expanse of Spencer’s back, hearing the little breathy gasps he lets out each time she does might be enough to make her cum all on their own.

“I’m close” she mewls, letting her head fall back against the pillow, exposing her neck, eyes screwing shut.

“Fuck, me too” he takes the opportunity presented to him, and wraps one of his hands around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly.

“Ahh, fuck” she breathes out with the little air that she has, “gonna cum” and she does, he can feel her tighten around his cock, her body writhing beneath his and arching up off he bed as he continues to fuck into her.

He’s following behind just a second later, spilling into her as he collapses back down, releasing his grip on her throat completely and settling on her chest.

They both take a moment. Melting into one another, steading out their breathing.

It’s Y/N who breaks the silence, “So you’ve always had a thing for my tits then?”

He cranes his neck up to look at her, “Shut up” he breathes, laying his head back down on her chest. She cards her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down.

“Now you know how to make me.”

Masterlist

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[xtltokio]

Carlos is a control freak and as Rafael himself confirmed, his love language is the Act of Service. He likes to get his hands dirty, but what happens when he can't do both?

It’s the dilemma Carlos faces in 3x13.

Let’s dig in

First of all I need to say that I loved the episode, I believe it was fundamental for the development of Tarlos and for Carlos as a character

We need to understand that this episode was totally from Carlos' pov, so of course, watching him, we'll sympathize with him more (it doesn't help that Rafael is a great actor), and a lot of people put Carlos on this pedestal, and you think he deserves someone better, but it fails to recognize some flaws he had in 3x13. Carlos is a control freak and as Rafael himself confirmed, his love language is the Act of Service. He likes to get his hands dirty, but what happens when he can't do both? 

It’s the dilemma Carlos faces in 3x13.

I know it says a lot about Carlos reading articles to help TK, volunteering to go to meetings, being willing to listen, but the truth is, that's not what TK needs right now. Carlos felt left out the entire episode, Insecure, thinking he's incapable, and of course he has a certain insecurity that comes from the fact that TK already left him once.

I just want to say that Carlos' feelings are valid and justified, it's horrible to feel helpless trying to help the people we love the most. The feeling is worse because TK is getting it from someone else, and it hurts Carlos, the feeling of not being enough.

In this episode Carlos fails where he always failed, in the lack of communication with TK., Instead of saying "you could have sent me a message that you would arrive late because I was going to eat with Cooper" or "I'm feeling isolated", instead he was passive aggressive in that dinner scene (I just want to say here, that personally I loved Carlos petty), TK was the first, like him always does, of trying to communicate and to understand what is wrong.

We didn't get much of TK's vision in this episode, but we can take some things away, I disagree with people who say TK doesn't open up to Carlos.

Carlos knows TK is going to meetings, Carlos said that Cooper's name is popping up a lot just means TK talks to Carlos. He still talks about the insights he has after the meetings, like when he said the anxiety about his relapse after his mother's death.

 TK is back to square one, meetings and leaning on his sponsor  its like professional helps  As TK himself said, he needs to talk to someone who understands what he's going through.

I thought what he said was so spot on:

"If that means that sometimes I’m late getting home just, know it’s only so I will get home”

That's it, TK is fighting for his recovery, he's fighting for his will to live while still grieving. When he said “know it’s only so I will get home” it's about doing what he needs to do so he can get back to Carlos. 

In all of this, Carlos is TKs safe place, one of the reasons for him to stay sober, the first thing Cooper talks about when he meets Carlos is how it feels like he already knows him, all this because of how much TK must have talked about Carlos 

There's no way Carlos won't be one of the pillars of TK's recovery. 

and we have the conversation about Gwyn, the beauty of that scene, it was here that Carlos realized that in some moments he won't be enough and that's okay. There are many ways that Carlos is important to TK. 

 TK is making an effort to include Carlos, but everything is a process, and TK is in a fragile moment. I think what we need to understand too, that TK's recovery is about TK, and no one else, and of course Carlos' feelings need to be considered, but if TK thinks that at this point, the best way to recover is to take a step back, and that's how it needs to be done and that's what Carlos understood in the final scene, he realized he didn't know what he needed to do or say for TK to get better, Carlos then does what he thinks is best, he calls Cooper!

For someone who is a control freak, knowing how to let go is a huge development. I think Carlos realized he can't fix everything but he can make things better for TK.

 # I loved the dinner scene because in addition to being two valid points being presented, it also showed how the two of them have improved a lot when it comes to communication, and I thought it was so important TK kissing Carlos before leaving, saying that he won't go anywhere.

 # But not everything is perfect, I still need a conversation between TK and Carlos about his breakup, and Carlos' insecurity about TK always leaving, now if TK decides to guarantee his love by offering a ring , I won't complain. 

[teddy06writes]

sorry to request yet another one, but you are such an amazing writer. Could I possibly have a romeo and juliet type story where reader is sleepybois sibling and is in love with either poly dream team (dream,George,sapnap) or just george xx

dream x george x sapnap x reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: swearing, yelling, character death, Wilbur being a dumbass

premise: you are one of Philza’s children, and have fought for L’manburg’s independence, we follow your secret romance with the enemy, of course, this tragedy knows no happy ending

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

You carefully dropped down over the side of the L’manburg wall, ducking into a roll before standing up and dusting yourself off, starting to sneak away.

A hand clamps around your forearm, pulling you around the side of a tree.

You hold back a yelp, instead turning with a smile, whispering, “Mr. Sapnap we simply must stop meeting like this.”

“And what? You’d have us march through your gates announcing ourselves to your brothers, I think not.” Nick chuckled.

“Well, I suppose that would put a damper on things.” You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He fit your hand into his, pulling you along as you started for where the others would be waiting, “Especially when they are so against our dear Dream.”

“To be fair, he was against us.” You argued.

“But no more.” The man himself pointed out, stepping out of the shadows, rising his mask enough to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Because we continued to fight? or Because you wanted an excuse to talk to me without it being over a declaration of war?”

“I believe it was because Tommy gave up his disks,” George offered, leaning in to place a kiss on your cheek, “Hello dearest.”

You sighed, “Phil gave him those disks. They were one of the only things to survive the blast.”

Behind the mask you could tell Dream’s face fell, and he started to turn away, “I- we did what we thought was right.”

“Blowing up my country was what you thought was right?” You challenged, crossing your arms, “You even had the audacity to cheer as my head was separated from my body by the sheer force.”

“Here we go again.” George muttered.

“We didn’t know you then! Things have changed! You and your people are free now!”

“That does not change our history.” You said indigently.

“What about when Sapnap burned the forests? That’s part of your history too yet we don’t see you yelling at him!” Dream exclaimed.

You sighed, “The forests were replanted with his help, and he has shown remorse, and regret over his actions.”

Surprisingly Dream wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, “If that is what I takes to gain your trust, then I am sorry. I hope my past mistakes do not haunt you any longer.”

Reluctantly you wrapped your arms around him, smiling as the other boys joined the embrace.

After a few moment Dream pulled away, “c’mon, we may even have time for a proper date.”

~~

“An election?” You questioned, “But your already the president.”

Wilbur grinned, “But I put myself in that position, if we do it this way everything is fair!”

You glanced down at the papers littering his desk, “Wil I don’t see how this makes things fair, I mean,” You picked up the note book where he’d been witting makeshift ballots, “Closing the ballots early? The people will only have one option! How is that fair?”

“Actually, I’m running as well.”

You turned to see Quackity entering the office, “You? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The man frowned, “Well, I figure if Wilbur here gets a chance to do it fair why shouldn’t I?”

“We’ll be able to beat him easily.” Your brother quietly assured you.

~~

“You alright love? You seem stressed.” Nick said quietly.

You sighed looking up at the sky, “Wilbur plans to hold an election. He believes we can over take Quackity and Swag 2020, but now Fundy and Niki have made there own party as well.”

George turned, propping himself up on his elbow, “That doesn’t sound good. If he’s already in charge why does he need to be re elected?”  

“We put him on the throne, Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy and I. He wishes to be there fairly with the support of the people.”

Dream hummed, “Do you think he could win?”

“It’s possible,” You sighed, leaning back against Nick, “But campaigns have been tricky, Tommy managed to dig up Jshlatt. They though he could help, but now he’s trying to make a claim to having a spot on the ballot.”

“I thought he was dead.” George said.

You laced your fingers through his, “Well now he’s just a drunk who’s running for president. God I hope it was just a joke.” You muttered the last part.

The boy shared glances, Nick hazarding, “What happens if someone else wins?”

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t change much for me, technically I hold no office other than managing my brothers and the campaign, it’d shift me further out of public eye, but, I think Wilbur wouldn’t handle it well.”

Dream began to trace shapes into your open palm, “Well, with you in charge of the campaign I doubt your brother will fail.”

You smiled, “Let’s hope so.”

A few hours later, as the sun began to disappear beyond the hills of L’manburg you stood up from the picnic, bidding your lovers farewell, “Wilbur’s meeting starts soon, and I’ll be missed.”

After a few traded kisses you started back through the woods toward L’manburg, sneaking back in through a gap that had never been fixed in the wall, pausing at your house to change back into your L’manburg uniform before hurrying off to the white house.

“Your late!” Tommy called sharply as you entered Wilbur’s office.

“I lost track of time working on the last of the posters.” You pulled the rolled up tubes of paper from the bag you’d grabbed at the house as well.

Wilbur took the tubes as Tommy looked at you skeptically, “Yeah, doing that and what else?”

“Well I was talking to Phil today telling him about the election,” You sat down next to Tubbo, “But not much else.”

Wilbur sighed, dropping a flyer on the table, “We have more important notion to discuss, it would seem that Shlatt is serious about this.”

You grabbed the flyer, looking over the bolded, ‘Shlatt 2020′ and then back at Wilbur, “This can’t be real. I thought you closed the ballot.”

“The people favor him enough to allow him a spot on the ballot.” Tubbo sighed.

“We still stand a chance though,” Tommy said quickly turning to Wilbur, “Right Wil?”

Your older brother hesitated, wavering for a moment, before nodding, “Yes. Yes of course.”

~~

“(y/n) I must ask you some thing.” Wilbur said as the meeting ended and Tommy and Tubbo headed out.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sneak out?” Your breathing hitched but he continued, “Who are you meeting? What are you hiding? Who do you talk too from- from the SMP lands?” His voice turned to acid at the last words.

“I don’t go anywhere, outside L’manburg. Other than for walks in the forest on occasion.” You lied.

Wilbur examined your face, as if searching for something, “Fine then. Don’t tell me, I will find out sooner or later.”

He strode out of the room, leaving you to pull out your com tablet, privately messaging Dream, ‘it might be a bit before I can see you guys again’

‘:(’

You rolled your eyes quickly typing, ‘Wils getting suspicious, I’m just trying to keep you safe’

‘george also says :(’ Was all you received in reply, so you quickly put the tablet away, heading out of the office and out to the street.

You took a deep breath, looking back at the podium, ballots would be collected tomorrow, and then everything could change.

~~

“Last night, before the last of the ballots were collected, Mr. Quackity of the SWAG 2020 party made an agreement with Mr. Jshlatt of the SHLATT 2020 campaign, that if neither party won the popular vote, they would combine there votes, creating a collation.” WIlbur announced.

From your place to the side of the stage you froze, fear coursing through your veins.

“And so, the combined percentages of SWAG 2020 and SHLATT 2020, bring the coalition to 46% of the popular vote.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, feeling Tommy freeze beside you.

“Which means, the coalition government of SWAG and SHLATT 2020, have won the L’manburg election, by 1%.”

The world seemed to slow as parts of the crowd erupted into cheers, Quackity jumped around on the stage yelling as Wilbur slowly moved away from the podium, out of the corner of your eye, near the back of the stands you see your boyfriends all looking down, but you paid them no mind, instead looking Shlatt dead in the eye as he grinned maliciously at you, before turning to address the crowd.

Wilbur tugged you and Tommy away from the stage, “We’re citizens tonight.”

Shlatt leaned over the podium as you took seats near the front of the crowd, “Well that, was pretty easy.”

You felt your brothers grip your hands, as you stared up at Shlatt.

“You know what I said when I announced this campaign? I said ‘things are gonna change’ I looked every citizen of L’manburg in the eye and I said ‘you listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow.”

He smirked down at you, “So let’s start making that happen. My first decree as president of L’manburg- as EMPEROR! Of this great country!”

Your breathing hitched, “Is to revoke citizenship-! Of TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, and (Y/n)! Get them out of here!”

Suddenly it seemed as though every weapon in the city was trained on you as Tommy dragged you up out of your seat.

Wilbur was yelling at you to run, but you remained frozen on the spot, turning to look at the podium one last time before following your brothers, only a few steps behind, most of the crowd beginning to disperse

Some one practically screamed your name, and you turned in time for an onslaught of arrows to bury themselves in your body.

The last thing you saw before crumpling to the ground was Dream, Nick and George rushing toward you.

Shlatt strode off the stage, trying to move closer to your body only to be blocked by Dream’s outstretched sword.

He peered around where George had flung himself over you, “I want them out of here as soon as they respawn.”

~~

You woke to someone pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, and excruciating pain spreading throughout your body.

Your eyes flicked open, looking around at the cave you found yourself in, in confusion. When you tried to sit up a gentle hand pushed you back down, “Don’t, you only respawned fully a day ago, you're too weak for that.”

“What’re you doing here?” You groaned.

Technoblade chuckled, “I heard someone say rebellion.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before he elaborated, “This is Pogtopia, cause apparently Wilbur can’t go more than a few months without establishing a new country. Tommy found the cavern after they were ran out of L’manburg. Tubbo is working with Shlatt to hunt you guys down, and Wilbur is trying to start a plan to get the country back.”

“How’d I get here? my bed is all the way in L’manburg.”

Techno grabbed one of the baked potatoes he’d brought up to your room, offering it to you, “That’s the thing I was meanin to ask ya, is there a reasonable explanation as to why it was the Dream Team who brought your body back here? All dramatic and not wantin to leave?”

You face flushed and you turned your head away from him, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” You brother said, moving to lean back against the wall.

You giggled nervously, “I guess it technically started when L’manburg was still fighting for independence...”

You told him of the strange glances during war councils, the way Nick had stopped in his tracks when he saw the way you looked forlorn at the burning wood, the way George found ways to sneak you trinkets signed ‘from someones special’, and the way you were never in any real danger during many battles.

You recalled your first real meeting with Dream after you had gained independence, the way he’d seemed so different then than at the signing of the peace treaty, the way that You’d received help replanting the forests, and the quiet still moments shared by the channel George almost unaware of your being there.

It was the first time you had really spoken about your lovers to anyone, and though it took a weight off your shoulders it added another as Techno subconsciously pulled out his axe and began to sharpen it.

“They wouldn’t hurt me, and the conflict that we shared was between the SMP Lands and L’manburg, not us.” You finished quietly.

Techno looked at you quizzically, “Your telling me Dream, the Dream, Mister Manhunts and smp and god among men Dream, would willingly put away his conflicts, his gains, his leverage, just for you?”

“For all of us.” You said firmly.

“That why he kept Tommy’s disks?”

“Tommy willingly gave up those disks for the country.” You muttered.

Your older brother ignored you, “That why he openly endorsed Shlatt as soon as your back was turned?”

You froze, pushing yourself to sit up, even as it made your head spin, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shlatt’s key endorsement, you know, the endorsement given to the guy who was suppose to endorse Wil?” He watched as your face fell, before quietly starting out of the room, “I won’t tell either of them, but if Dream loses a life cause you find out it was true, don’t look my way.”

You fished your com tablet out of the pack that was lying next to your cot, ‘we need to talk.’

~~

“(y/n)! Thank god your okay!” Nick exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

You hugged him back before turning to face Dream, “Why did you endorse Shlatt?”

He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “And I don’t want a denial or an excuse, or- or any of that. I just want to know why you did it. Why you didn’t tell me?”

Shakily Dream pulled off his mask, looking you in the eye, “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. Technically I never publicly endorsed him, he took a piece of advice and ran with it to the people. If I had known he was going to do that I would’ve never talked to him in the first place. If I had known he was going to exile you, if he was going to take one of your lives I would have killed him where he stood with no hesitation.”

The mask shook his hand, and George gently took it from him, lacing there fingers together encouragingly.

“I know I fucked up talking to him but if he goes near you, or tries to get you exiled further, or anything like that, he’ll be dead. I- I will do what it takes to help you get L’manburg back.”

You bit your lip, still partially holding on to Nick, “Why did you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to the stress.”

“Also, you said Wilbur was getting suspicious, and you stopped talking to us for two days.” George pointed out.

You nodded, quietly rubbing at your eyes, “Uh, yeah, uh, so Techno knows.”

Nick stiffened, “What?”

“Technoblade knows about this- uh- us.”

“T- Technoblade, your brother, as in, The Technoblade, Mister violence, and blood god and technoblade never dies,  knows about us?” George gulped.

“He only threatened Dream, so don’t worry?” You said sheepishly.

Nick chuckled, “Wonderful, that means we get out with our heads and Dream gets to fight to the death.”

“I don’t see how that’s fair.” Dream pouted.

“Maybe I just thought it better to threaten you cause I know if I tried to take the other ones you’d come for me anyway.” Techno said, striding into the clearing.

The boys sat there looking at him for a moment before he sighed, turning to you, “You better get back inside ‘fore Wil goes insane. An’ you guys better clear out before Tommy sees you and goes berserk.”

Reluctantly your boyfriends nodded, quickly muttering goodbyes and leaving, only slightly in fear of Techno, and you turned to your brother with a sigh, “He can’t keep me locked up forever.”

“He’s worried. Paranoid even, thinks Shlatts gonna send someone to kill you again,” Techno explained, guiding you back towards one of the entrances of the cavern, “The stress is getting to him.”

~~

The days spent in Pogtopia began to blend together, the only memorable ones being the ones that were spent sneaking out and seeing your lovers, though you never excepted to see one of them within the cavern itself.

You had come down one of the narrow walkways of your new home, and when Tommy had grabbed your wrist, hissing “Dream is here! And he’s going to help Wilbur blow up L’manburg!” you were not nearly prepared to see him handing Wilbur a rather large bag.

Wilbur grinned wickedly, “This is perfect.”

“Wilbur,” Your little brothers voice was shaking, “Give me that tnt.”

Dream drew his sword, holding it up almost lazily in Tommy’s direction, “I’m going to have to step in on this one Tommy.”

You could see him smirking under the mask as you pushed Tommy behind you, “Wilbur what are you doing?”

“What needs to be done.” He said coldly, “If I can’t have Manburg no one can have Manburg!”

“And you think blowing up our home is the right move?” You said cautiously.

There was something different in Wilbur’s eyes, “No survivors.”

Techno watched this from his spot on the wall, “Wilbur I think we need to have a discussion, things like this take time to plan. (Y/n) why don’t you escort our guest out.”

You nodded sharply, starting towards the back of the cavern, “This way green boy.”

As soon as you got outside the cave you grabbed his wrist, shoving him against the rock wall, “What the fuck are you thinking?”

The now lopsided mask reviled his cocky smirk, “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

“Shut the fuck up! What are you thinking?”  You hissed.

“I’m helping you get back your L’manburg!” He sounded all too happy about it.

“By siding with him? He’s gone manic Clay! He’s fucking insane!”

Dream winced at the words, “He’s your brother. You have to side with him.”

“My brother is gone. I side with that man because I am loyal to my family, so long as Techno and Tommy are with him I am. If there was ever a time for you two to ever get along it would not be this.” You backed away from him.

“(y/n), I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” You said softly, turning back to the cave entrance, “I’ll see you soon.”

~~

“Wars tomorrow.” George said quietly.

You nodded, carding your hand through his hair, “That it is.”

The month had passed quickly, and after the incident at the festival, and then Quackity’s meeting with Shlatt you seemed to have blinked and the eve of war was upon you.

You had snuck out, now spending your last night before the world changes again with your boys, huddled up together in one of the castles parapets. (It had been quite a shock to you when Dream dethroned Eret)

“We will be on different sides, how will this even play out?” Nick asked.

“Only time will tell.”

Dream, mask long since forgotten to the side, bit his lip, “(y/n), George, I want you to stay out of the fighting.”

“We can handle ourselves.” You argued.

“It’s George’s job to stay neutral, and you’re on your last life. None of us want to lose you.” He said softly, looking over Nick’s head at you.

“I will fight for my country. No one will stop me.”

“Even if Phil came back and told you not too?” Nick asked with a chuckle.

“Well-” You laughed, “I suppose it would depend.”

A while later, you began to head back to Pogtopia, your boys insisting on walking you back.

Upon reaching the cave you kissed each of them, “Until we see what tomorrow brings.”

They gave similar goodbyes, and you darted back into the cavern.

Coming around the corner someone grabbed your wrist, tugging it hard, and you came face to face with Wilbur, “Where the fuck were you?”

“uh- o- out.” You stuttered.

“Out with your boyfriends?” He taughtened, dragging you down through the cavern, past the new rooms that had been carved out recently, “When were you planning on telling us of this little fling?”

“What are you talking about?” Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Oh I know all about you and Dream and Sapnap and George! You and your fucking betrayal! Why the fuck would you try to betray me? I’m your brother!” He exclaimed, practically throwing you into a newly constructed cage.

You dug your nails into your palms, “Wilbur, please.”

“I know it was them who disconnected the TNT, who you keep sneaking out to meet, who you were conspiring against me with!” He locked the cage and you caught a glimpse of Techno, leaning against a wall looking down.

“Wil I never conspired against you!”

“We’ll see about that.” He hissed, “You’ll stay here until this is over. I may fail at regaining my L’manburg but I will not fail to kill those men.”

As he strode away you looked to Techno, “Techno what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed before hurrying away.

Tears began to stream down your cheeks as you looked around the abandoned alcove of the cavern, there was no getting out of this.

Quietly you pulled your com tablet from your sleeve, sending a messege to Phil, ‘dad I need help, Wil’s gone insane’

~~

You leaned against the bars of the cell, Pogtopia’s few members had long since left for the battle, and you were still here, trapped where Wilbur had left you, none of your boyfriends were responding to your pings, feeling utterly hopeless.

“(y/n)?” A yell echoed through the cavern.

“Phil!” You called desperately, “I’m in here!”

A few moments later your adoptive father appeared in the doorway, shocked upon seeing the locked cage and your tear stained cheeks, “(y/n).”

You nodded as he quickly began to work at the lock, pulling you into an embrace as soon as the cage opened.

“Dad,” You hiccupped, fighting back a new wave of tears, “He’s insane! He’s gonna try to blow up Manburg again! And he’s gonna try to kill them!”

“Who is?” He asked gently.

“Wilbur! He’s gone mad!”

Phil pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, sniffling.

Phil took a deep breath, looking around, “Okay, you get down to where they’re fighting, you try to keep Wilbur distracted once it’s over, I’ll try to think of something to stop the tnt.”

You nodded, quickly forcing yourself up, running out of the cavern.

You hurried through the woods, pushing yourself to go faster, making it to the crest of the hill as people flooded out of the van, cheering, people of Pogtopia, L’manburg and the SMP lands alike.

You charged down the hill, not seeing Wilbur standing to the side.

“Dream! Sapnap! George!” You yelled.

They turned to see you running at them, relived to see you okay, still not understanding the cryptic things Wilbur had been saying.

“(Y/n)-” Dream was cut off a yet another arrow planted its self in your back.

“Love?” You whispered, before crumpling to the ground.

They rushed forward, but it was too late, you were gone, and George early screamed, burring his face in an expressionless Nick’s shoulder.

Dream looked up at Wilbur, whos cross bow was still raised, utterly broken, “What the fuck have you done?”

[oh-for-merlins-sake]

BUTTERFLIES | fw | golden

summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of strange plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pining but that’s about it!

a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 @inglourious-imagines @amourtentiaa | george taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

“But Professor Sprout, I can’t miss this match!”

“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.

Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.

You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”

However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.

Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.

It was no mystery how little Fred Weasley cared about Herbology. Half of the time, he’d snooze to the sound of Sprout’s voice, and the other half, he’d turn her plants into playthings. It was fairly common by now to spot one of the twins shrinking the tentaculas or extracting foul odors from the wormwoods, but no such prank had been as outrageous as the one Fred pulled the morning prior: he transformed Sprout’s prized umbrella flower into a pyrotechnic display by enchanting it to blast miniature fireworks from its vibrant petals.

This would surely be a challenge.

You turned to Fred, who was closely inspecting some puffapods. You pondered the likelihood of transforming him into someone who cared even an iota about plants. And you were determined to bring it to fruition.

Contrary to him, you’d been exposed to the magic of Herbology quite early in life: your mother kept a lush garden of daffodils and dahlias, all whilst bouncing you on her hip in the summer heat. And as birthdays passed, your growing collection of Herbology books began to burst from your cluttered shelves. Most of those books traveled with you to Hogwarts, where you were often spotted in the Hufflepuff common room tending to the whimsical plants. During your fourth year, Professor Sprout, admiring your natural affinity for plants, promoted you from Soil Supervisor to Head of the Herbology Society, an accomplishment you were especially proud of.

You raised a brow at Fred, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, darling,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes before collecting a list of duties from a nearby table. “These are the tasks that Professor Sprout would like us to complete before sundown.” Fred hovered over your shoulder as you trailed your fingers down the parchment, “Clean the plant beds, prune the wiggentrees, trim the sugar shrubs, and re-pot the puffapods.”

Fred groaned, “We’ll be here ‘til next Saturday with all this busywork! Listen, Y/N, I’ve got to be down to the pitch by three. We’re playing Slytherin! I can’t miss it!”

“Not to worry, you won’t miss your precious little Quidditch match. In fact, it could be much worse,” you insisted, “I once had to re-pot the fanged geranium, and suffice to say, they are not a fan of re-potting!”

“And you do this for fun?” Fred shook his head, “Bloody hell, woman...”

You pivoted on your foot and started for the edge of the greenhouse, smirking to yourself before uttering, “I could ask the same of Quidditch.” You could practically hear his eyes rolling in his skull. “Most of the game’s spent beating and bruising each other, which doesn’t sound very fun at all. Honestly, it sounds quite boorish.”

He laughed humorlessly, “Is this why Hufflepuff is so bloody bad at Quidditch every year? Everyone’s too busy picking flowers when they should be practicing?”

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now,” you quipped, tossing him a pair of gloves, which he scoffed at before dejectedly throwing them on. You glanced at the clock: 9:00. You had approximately seven hours to tackle the greenhouse with Fred.

“Now, it’s very important that you follow my instructions carefully,” you began, kneeling to inspect the bed of bouncing bulbs that were tethered in place, “Every plant you see in this room is extremely delicate and must be handled with great care.”

Fred raised his brows, as if to question the gravity of the task.

You sighed, “Will you at least try to care?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he grinned, kneeling beside you, “I’ll do as you ask, exactly how you ask, if you come to our ‘precious little Quidditch game’ later.”

You laughed, “All right, it’s a deal.”

Fred firmly shook your hand, and for the first time, you felt as though he was your friend.

————-————-

“Am I doing this right?” Fred asked as he haphazardly trimmed the sugar shrubs with a pair of dull hedge shears.

You chuckled, “Not the prettiest, but good enough.”

He laughed as he tried to assess his progress. He caught sight of the clock, which read 11:00, before spotting that fateful umbrella flower — except it wasn’t the same as before. Its vibrant pink and yellow flowers had severely paled; its stature slightly wilted.

“It’s not good for the plants, you know...” you said suddenly.

Fred’s eyes met yours.

“Transforming their size, changing their chemistry... literally lighting them up...” Fred looked down, “It places enormous stress on their fragile bodies. Most are drained of essential nutrients in the process, and too often their growth becomes permanently stunted.”

Fred couldn’t muster a single word. Instead, he stared at you with a newfound emptiness behind his eyes.

“I’m sure you hadn’t realized,” you said sadly, “Most people don’t.”

Fred tried to string together some sort of response, but nothing was coming to the surface.

You cleared your throat, “C’mon, we’ve only got a few more.”

It wasn’t long before you reached the last of the shrubs. Most of your time was spent trimming in silence; the occasional snip ringing through the humid air. But when it was time to show Fred how to prune the wiggentrees, he spoke at last.

“I genuinely had no idea,” he admitted sheepishly, “But I am so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” you contended, “But I forgive you on their behalf.”

You intricately reviewed how to prune a wiggentree, and Fred clung to every word that fell from your lips. Every word spoken rattled his bones. While it was true that Fred enjoyed getting into mischief, it was never his intention to hurt anyone — or anything, for that matter.

And he certainly never wanted to hear the deep-rooted pain that laced your words ever again.

After a couple of hours, Fred managed to prune a decent number of wiggentrees with only a few minor scrapes to prove it. You jovially applauded him as he bowed theatrically.

“You’re not coming for my position as Head of the Herbology Society, are you?” you teased, swapping your shears for a trowel.

“Can’t get anything past this one — just too smart and pretty,” he winked.

Your face flushed with a burning heat, a bundle of butterflies bursting inside of you. Eager to avoid eye contact, you swiftly turned to lead him to your final task: re-potting the puffapods. You tried your best to focus on what Professor Sprout asked of you, but hearing Fred compliment you sent you into a complete and utter tizzy.

Fred cheekily chuckled at your sudden silence as you reached the middle of the greenhouse. You quickly composed yourself, struggling to tame the butterflies ricocheting in your stomach.

“Re-potting the puffapods is a lot easier than it sounds. Honestly, I find that using my bare hands gives me a much better understanding of where their roots lie. You don’t want to disturb those, you see.”

You tossed your gloves to the side, and Fred followed suit. You rolled your sleeves to your elbows before gently digging your fingers into the soft soil of the pot closest to you. “Here,” you nodded for Fred to come closer, “Come see what they feel like.”

His stomach flipped as your delicate fingers clasped around his large, rough hand. You guided his hand under the soil until you could both feel the roots that intertwined below. You suddenly realized how close you stood to Fred. Every breath that escaped from his lungs practically shot into your own. The same warmth that had flooded your face earlier returned once more.

“Scoop around those to move it to its new home,” you explained softly, carefully maneuvering his hand to scoop the purple puffapod.

You smiled at him, wondering if he was thinking the same things you were: how the morning had been surprisingly delightful; how bolts of electricity zipped through your body when your hands met; and how the autumnal sun was occasionally peeking through pockets of clouds. It beared down just enough warmth through the sheer greenhouse windows to comfort you.

You shook your thoughts and asked Fred, “Think you got it?”

“Think so,” he nodded, an encouraging smile plastered to his lips.

He demonstrated his competency with the task on his first attempt, so you trusted him to the smaller puffapods as you began tackling the bigger ones.

You sighed, “Perhaps we’ll see some Painted Ladies today.”

Fred furrowed his brows, “Rest assured, there are plenty of those hanging in this ancient castle.”

“No!” you laughed, “Not literal painted ladies — the butterflies!”

Fred laughed with you, “The butterflies? Who in the bloody hell decided ‘Painted Lady’ would be a proper name for a butterfly?”

“I don’t know that, but I do know that hundreds of them migrate in around this time of year,” you explained, “It’s a sight to see! Trelawney always says, ‘Good fortune will be brought unto those who witness it!’”

Fred laughed at your spot-on impression, “Is that so?”

“‘Course! And if the rain holds out a little longer, they might just make an appearance,” you said, peering outside.

You perused the landscape in silence. Without turning back to Fred, you muttered, “Seven years here, and I still haven’t seen it.”

He instantly sensed the deep disappointment that colored your words. And he realized that this actually mattered to you. He recognized that this was something you believed was truly absent from your time here — time that was quickly running down the hourglass.

Mollifying your melancholy, Fred changed the subject, and before you knew it, you were both animatedly chatting as you slaved over Sprout’s tedious task. He told you all about how his mum made him de-gnome the gardens growing up, and how everything “just tasted better” with fresh ingredients he and his siblings harvested from their backyard. Meanwhile you taught him to identify various trees by the pattern of their leaves and identified the part of the year each flower flourished.

He admired your commitment to such seemingly insignificant creatures. Though he’d only known you shortly, he knew you loved these plants; the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a fresh bud blooming in the bushes; or the way you rattled off the perfect way to keep a flutterby bush alive in the dead of winter. You had him longing to find beauty in even the darkest corners of the world.

And part of that beauty he had found in you.

Once you finished the last of the puffapods, you dusted your hands and turned to Fred. A sudden sadness bloomed in your chest as you watched him wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Fred felt a similar sorrow burrowing inside of him.

“Well, we did it… And with,” you glanced at the clock, “about an hour to spare.”

He nodded, “It was nice working with you today, Y/N.”

You nodded, “Yeah, you as well!”

“It’s surprising how much beauty lies in even the tiniest of plants.”

Your eyes sparkled up at him in response; as if he were a beautiful rosebud basking in the sun with its petals swaying in the gentle wind. He didn’t want to let the moment go.

“I was thinking maybe you and me could — bloody hell!”

Fred’s eyes widened, a grin exploding onto his face. Before you could ask, he swiveled you to face the long anticipated miracle.

Your hand flew to your mouth, “Merlin!”

You bolted out of the greenhouse as Fred trailed closely behind. Hundreds of butterflies soared overhead; their bright orange wings sonorously fanning your skin. The steady breeze that flitted through the air could’ve soothed a thousand scorching summers.

You slowly reached upwards, allowing the dainty creatures to dance around your fingertips. You laughed at the sensation, and at the fact that you couldn’t help but cry.

You were levitating at the hands of one of Mother Nature’s finest masterpieces.

Fred was dazed and delighted standing there amidst the storm of butterflies. Despite this, he was careful not to encroach on a moment so destined for you that it felt wrong to impose himself on the memory.

You shook your head with laughter as you turned to face him, “Can you believe it?!”

He shook his head in disbelief, “This is wicked!”

“To think I might have missed it if it would have just been me in the greenhouse! I would’ve been finished hours ago!” you exclaimed, abruptly hugging Fred in the process, “Thank you, Fred! Thank you!”

And as if he’d done it a million times before, Fred wrapped his arms around you. The sweet scent of your perfume nearly intoxicated him, and the thunderous flight of Painted Ladies became his new favorite melody. The familiar sensation of butterflies fluttering inside of him consumed him yet again.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

You pulled away, your hands lingering on his arms. “Guess you better get going. Don’t want to miss the big match!”

“But I’ll see you in the stands, yeah? You promised,” he playfully reminded you.

“Definitely,” you replied, a warm blush flooding your face.

You waved goodbye as Fred started over the hill. He practically skipped towards the Quidditch pitch and recalled Trelawney’s famous claim: good fortune will be brought unto those who witness the great migration.

He hoped that was true.

And not because of the Quidditch match.

[morganaspendragonss]

fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰

holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)

i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!

ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

“I told you we should have brought the car.”

Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.

“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”

“We could have told him no.”

“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.

Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.

“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”

On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.

He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

Oh my god!

Someone call 911!

Are they even alive?

Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.

*

Beeping.

Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.

“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”

His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”

He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”

Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.

“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”

“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”

Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”

His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“He hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”

“I want to see him.”

And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.

His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”

“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”

“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”

It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.

He can’t help but wish he weren’t.

*

Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.

Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.

But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.

He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”

“That’s not funny.”

TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”

“Why did you push me?”

TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”

“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”

Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.

TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”

“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”

Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.

He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”

His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”

TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”

“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”

“Don’t make me make it two.”

Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.

He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.

It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.

And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 29: We Don’t Scare Easy

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: There’s a war coming,” he continues, and you feel the heaviness of his confirmation, “and I think the only way we’re going to win any part of it is if we work together.”

You smile down at him, strangely emotional. “I thought you liked doing things alone, Mandalorian,” you manage, voice high and breathy.

Din’s eyes flutter from your own and your lips, and you inhale sharply as he stares at you like he’s about to devour you. “Not anymore,” he answers, finally. “You’re proof that it’s so much better to be part of a team.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

*

Bo-Katan steps forward again. You narrow your eyes, straightening up as high as you can to try and match her intimidating, perfect posture. Her gaze locks on the Darksaber, once, twice, then she squares her shoulder, staring at Din. Even though the helmet, you can tell he’s staring at her right back. “We have a problem,” she says, lowly.

“Who’s we?” Din asks, voice cool and level.

For the first time, she looks over at you, not the Darksaber, not trying to size you up. You raise an eyebrow. “I said I’m not here for that,” she continues, pointing a slender finger at the weapon hanging from your grasp, “and I meant it. As much as I hate it,” she sighs, crossing her arms, “you won it in battle, Mandalorian. And it’s not really in my best interest to try and take Mandalore for myself again.”

Something about the way she says it makes your stomach flip over. You don’t know what she’s done in the past, you can barely string two events in the history of Mandalore together, but the way she insinuates another plot to take the throne puts you on edge.

“Then what do you want?” Din asks. His voice, through the modulator, is so even. There’s a sharpness to it that you don’t entirely understand. You glance over at Cara, her arms bulging from where they’re crossed against her chest. She shakes her head, almost entirely imperceptibly, and you inhale sharply, looking back at Bo-Katan like she’s a venomous predator, ready to strike the second you show her any weakness.

“You gave me Gideon,” Bo-Katan continues. “I took him back to Mandalore. We have facilities. Prisons. Holding cells. But I can’t get anything concrete out of him, and there’s something dark behind his eyes whenever we question him. Smug. And…” she sighs, “I would have no quarrel with killing him, but he seems to still be a part of something bigger.” On this last sentence, her gaze shifts over to you, and you swallow, feeling your heart flip over in your chest.

Din regards her. “What’s your point?”

“Well,” Bo-Katan says, looking back at Din. You can feel the way she’s steeling herself, pressing her lips down in a thin line like she’s driving a bargain she doesn’t think is fair. “My point is that I know Gideon’s the tip of the iceberg. And I know all you’ve wanted for months is to see him dead. I’m saying that if you come back to Mandalore with me and figure out what he’s planning…” she trails off, looking own to the blue armor of her boots, “then I’ll turn both him and Mandalore over to you. For real.”

You badly disguise a gasp. Din looks over to you, then the visor slides back to Bo-Katan. You’ve become an expert in reading his body language, knowing what he’s thinking from his movements alone. But right now, you feel entirely and completely out of your depth. You can’t get a read on him.

“If you’re looking to double-cross me,” Din finally says, voice icy, “then just fight me right here and win the saber back. If you want Mandalore, you can have it.”

“You’re telling me,” Bo-Katan starts, and you can hear the anger in her tone, “that you seriously don’t want the throne?

Din looks back at her. “Look at your helmet in your hands.” She does. “You can take yours off. You have no—no issue with showing your face. From what it sounds like, you know how to be a leader. I don’t have to understand, or like what you’re doing. I—” he cuts off, just for a second, and then he regains his vigor, “I don’t want to put more of a target on my back. I’m tired. There’s something darker out there that we’re only just now seeing. I’ll question Gideon,” he continues, “but if I do, then you take the Darksaber. You rule Mandalore. I’ll be too preoccupied helping my fiancé and the rest of the Rebel Alliance wipe Gideon and the evil he’s hiding off the face of the galaxy.”

Bo Katan’s eyes narrow. Your heart sings a tune of pride in your chest, fiercely and brazen. “That’s not how it works.”

“It is now,” you finally say, lifting your chin. “There’s something out there. Something that wants all of us to either become pawns for their evil cause or for us to die and stay dead. You want Mandalore to be taken care of?” you ask, stepping forward. Bo-Katan’s still guarded, but she nods, just slightly. “Then take care of it. We have to make sure that the rest of the galaxy survives, not just one planet.”

Bo-Katan stares at you, then at the Darksaber, then to the new Alliance symbol hanging from your throat. You bite down, hard, and you pull your hair to the side. In your palm, the Darksaber vibrates, and, immediately, her eyes refocus on the weapon. You wince, realizing you’re holding it there with the Force alone, your grip empty. “You can use the Force,” she says. Her voice sounds poisonous, and your heart starts thumping again, but then you remember that she’s the one who led you to Ahsoka, so she doesn’t seem to have any particular distaste for Jedi, even though you know most of the galaxy does.

“Do you know anything about the Order?” you ask. Beside you, Din sighs, thick and heavy, and you realize that asking someone who may not entirely be an ally about a mysterious collection of people trying to use you as a weapon might not be a good idea.

But in Bo-Katan’s face is a flicker of recognition. She swallows. “Come interrogate Gideon,” she says, finally. All the fire that was there a minute ago seems to drain out of her backward, and Din steps forward, just an inch, but you know he feels it too. “Figure out what he wants. Then, if you’re so adamant about not being Mand’alor, we can fight over the Darksaber. But you’re not allowed to go easy on me,” she continues, stabbing a finger at Din midair. “For me to retake the throne, it needs to be a real fight. Understood?”

Din nods, sharply and intently. “Don’t worry,” he says, and because you know him so well, you can tell that there’s a small smirk etched across his face under the helmet, “going easy isn’t really in my job description.”

There seems to be something ceremonial about boarding Kicker. The two of you are going to follow Bo-Katan to Mandalore. If needed, Cara will follow the both of you, but the rest are starting on their own missions, to try and track down any more information about this mysterious Order so that when you regroup, Wedge and the Alliance included, you have a fighting chance. Parting ways, though, seems to come after making sure you get back to Kicker safely, a small ensemble of bounty hunters and experienced fighters flanking both you and Din as you make the trek back to the ship. Everyone says their goodbyes as Bo-Katan boards her own ship. It’s sleek and newer than Kicker by far, but there’s an emptiness to it. You sigh, slinging yourself down in the cockpit, flipping all the necessary switches and preparing for takeoff.

“What exactly should we be expecting?” you ask, finally, breaking the silence. You’re jittery, chilled from something much stronger than the Nevarro night. That keyed-up, wired, electric current running through you matches the same one back on Khubeaie, after the strange, blaring messages, after thinking you saw Luke Skywalker. It’s unsettling.

Din sighs from behind you, low and heavy. You startle, just a little, because you weren’t expecting him to have moved, but his gloved hands find your shoulders, and you sigh happily as his fingers start pressing a familiar pattern into the sore muscles, coaxing them to release. “I don’t know,” he answers you, and you can tell he’s being genuine. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re walking into a trap, but Bo-Katan also helped me try to get the kid back. I don’t think she’s being entirely forthcoming, but I don’t think she’s trying to harm us, either.”

You nod, too preoccupied with the feeling of Din’s thumbs on either side of your neck to really care about whatever’s coming next. “I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you manage, voice much more blissed out than his is. “She’s—resentful. Angry. But I truly don’t think she actively means us any harm.”

Din’s quiet behind you, just moving his expert fingers up and down your shoulders, digging into the tension. You watch as Bo-Katan’s ship powers up, eyes squinted to try and see where she is in the cockpit. As she lifts off Nevarro’s molten surface, you power Kicker up and do the same, following closely behind in her stream as she jets towards the atmosphere.

“Whatever’s waiting for us on Mandalore,” he finally says, grimly, “I don’t think we’ll make enemies, but I also don’t think we’ll be met with that warm of a welcome.”

Despite everything, a small smile moves across your face. You punch the thrusters, eyes still locked on Bo-Katan’s ship. “Sounds about right on par,” you manage, “don’t you think?”

Din sighs again. You put Kicker on autopilot, slowly turning around your chair to look up at him. Even shrouded in the dark, even entirely armored, you can feel him underneath. What used to be so intimidating is barely anything anymore. It’s just Din, the man you love, standing over you. He tucks a loose lock of your hair behind your ear, and you smile up at him, leaning into his palm. “You really think I would be a good ruler?”

You blink at him, astounded. “Yes,” you enunciate. “I don’t…I don’t exactly understand what you’d be doing. But I’ve seen the way you lead, how you somehow bring people with huge differences together. I know you want to go back to before,” you say, softly, taking his other hand in yours, “but honestly, Din, I don’t think we can.” You swallow. “I think we’re meant for something more than bounty hunting and babysitting.”

He stares down at you, through the visor, and then his hand pulls out of yours so he can hook his fingers under the rim of the helmet and yank it off. You pull him in closer, staring at his tousled hair, his lips still pink from fucking back on Nevarro in that back alley. He looks guarded, unsure, but when you hold him, the tension seems to leave his eyes just a little. “I don’t want to do it,” he says, finally.

“That’s okay,” you interrupt gently, “if you don’t think it’ll be good for you—”

“No,” he says, suddenly, and you stop talking. “I don’t wantto do it. It seems like this giant responsibility that I’ve never been prepared for. But I would,” he continues, voice low and urgent, “I would, except that taking the throne means breaking my promises to you.”

You stare down at the ring on your left hand, then look up back to Din, who’s holding hesitancy in every tense muscle of his body. “What do you mean?” you ask, voice wavery.

“I mean,” he sighs, stroking his gloved thumb over your cheekbone, “that there’s Gideon to deal with, and we have so much work ahead of us with the Order, and we’re in danger wherever we go. This would be so high-profile. And, Nova,” he continues, and you swallow, “I’m not going to be the one to take you away from the Alliance. You deserve to be there, fighting. And I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere, and I don’t even want to be…” he trails off, lips contorting around the word Bo-Katan used earlier, “…Mand’alor. I want to stop the Order. I want to be with you. And I want our kid back.”

You stare at him. “Din—”

“I’ll let Bo-Katan take it,” he interrupts, his voice steadier, “and then we help the Alliance. And then,” he continues, stepping closer to you, between your splayed legs, “then, we find Luke Skywalker and get him to train you, too. We’ll give the Order everything we’ve got. When it’s safe, you and Grogu and I will be together again. For good.”

Your heart is hammering a staccato rhythm on the left side of your chest. You don’t know if this is what you want—him giving up everything to stay with you, in the same way he doesn’t want you giving up everything to stay with him—but the two of you have more pressing matters at hand. Bo-Katan’s ship ahead of you slows down, and you pick the controls back up in Kicker to move accordingly.

“We can’t have everything, Nova,” Din says, and you know he’s being logical, and even beyond that, you know he’s right. You both owe it to the Alliance—and the galaxy—to stop the Order, to wipe clean any Empire leftovers that you can find. It’s a battle you can feel is only beginning, not one that you’ll be able to tackle and finish within a few weeks’ time. More than anything, though, more than stopping the Order, more than figuring out your Force sensitivity and visions or even becoming a full-fledged Jedi, is for you and Din and Grogu to settle down someplace, at least for a little while, and soak in as much happiness and peace as you possibly can before yet another war inevitably rears its head.

You swallow, and as you follow Bo-Katan down into Mandalore, you turn to face him, forcing an edge of determination into your voice that you don’t know if you entirely believe. “Don’t be so sure,” you whisper, and even though you don’t really have a plan, something inside of you knows that there’s a way that you can have everything, even if it’s an uphill battle. Because what you said to Din, way back on Nevarro, back before your life really started, still stands true. You don’t scare easy. And you’re more than ready to fight back.

Mandalore is not at all what you expected. It’s clearly been through the ringer, down to hell, and back again, but the city you follow Bo-Katan to looks rebuilt, fortified. It used to be glorious. You can tell. There’s elements that remind you of Naboo—not its natural beauty, but its serenity. Even though you know that the Mandalorians born and raised here have been trained into warriors, there’s an odd, peaceful way about the planet that you weren’t expecting.

Especially not arriving with Bo-Katan. She walks strong and tall, and as you pass handfuls of people walking away from the building she’s leading you towards, they lift their hands in greeting. Whatever your own feelings are toward her aside, you can tell that she’s well-respected. Fierce, but loyal. Kind of like Din. Kind of like you. As she smiles back to people who grin at her, your eyes track the back of her head, finding a kindness there you didn’t see before.

Din’s quiet. It’s a keyed-up, anxious kind of silence. He doesn’t take his helmet off, and his back is rigid and taut. You glance your hand off of his, and he squeezes it once before he drops it back to your side. Immediately, you understand. He’s trying to be proactive in his defensiveness, so that if some sort of opposition descends out of nowhere, he can fight them off without having to think twice about it. You’re not quiet. You don’t say anything, but your breath is heavy in your throat, and your eyes roam over the outcroppings of buildings and peer down the narrow alleyways between them. It’s not as eerie as you were expecting, but there’s something sad and lonely here hidden under all the rebuilt infrastructure and architecture. Even if you didn’t know how violent Mandalore’s history was, you would bet your last few credits that you could figure it out just by the energy of this place.

Bo-Katan leads you up the steps of a large building. The whole way up, your focus shifts from being perspective of your surroundings. The strange, haunted feeling here reminds you of your screeching radio, of the visions of a Jedi back on Khubeaie, you and Din and Boba Fett all seeing Luke Skywalker. And then, you remember Wedge saying he heard from Luke, right before your commlink went haywire, and something dangerous and anxious leaps up in your stomach. You’re breathing a lot heavier than either of the Mandalorians around you are, and you try to regulate how much air you’re taking in, but you give up when the staircase keeps going. Large, shiny marble slabs of stone stack up on top of each other, and the pattern swims before your eyes the higher up you get.

Finally, you speak. “Where exactly are we going?” you manage. Your voice comes out all breathless. You wince as your aching legs carry you up the last few steps, your head lolling back to see the grandiose ceilings in the building.

“I told you I’d take you to Gideon,” Bo-Katan answers, voice clipped but much steadier that yours is. You scowl at her behind her back, looking at her streamlines, athletic figure. “I’m making good on my promise.”

“Shouldn’t we…” you trail off, glancing up at Din’s stoic, silent figure, “I don’t know, plan what we’re going to say? I don’t think we should go in there blind.”

“You’re not going in there,” Bo-Katan interjects, and you stare at her, coming to a full stop. You fold your arms over your chest. Sighing, she turns around to face you and Din where you’ve stopped in unison. “What? That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It was implied,” you say coolly, staring at her. “Everyone in this galaxy associated with that monster of a man is after me. Not D—Mando. Not you. Me. I think I deserve the chance to figure out who I’m up against.”

Bo-Katan’s gaze flicks from yours to the visor, her eyebrow raised as if to ask Din for permission. You track the way his helmet tilts over to you and back to her. Eventually, he sighs. “She’s right,” he confirms, lowly, stepping forward so that he’s equidistant between you and Bo-Katan. “Besides, she did a better job holding him off than either of us did before he took the kid.”

You press your lips together, trying to look as intimidating as Bo-Katan does. You fail spectacularly, but when her eyes find yours again, she gives you a short, curt nod. Silently, the three of you fall into line. It’s a maze in here, cool blue and grey interior seemingly going on and on for miles. You swallow as you keep watching, weaving deeper and deeper into the complex, until the greyness of everything fades off into anesthetic, stark white. You walk down multiple hallways with holding cells, all empty, their lights blinding and too bright. You squint. You’re exhausted, and even though you don’t want to admit it to the two people around you who grew up in a community where fighting—and winning—was just a simple sixth sense, you have no idea what to say. Gideon doesn’t scare you, anymore—you’ve gotten so much better at staving him and his slippery evil off—but something about talking to him, milking him dry for information, in a place that’s not your typical playing field—well, it makes you anxious. Your stomach worries with an entire menagerie of butterflies as you follow Din and Bo-Katan into the belly of the beast, trying to plot out an even line of questioning in your head.

The door to where Gideon’s being held comes up out of nowhere. It’s menacing, thick, intentionally indestructible. You swallow again as the three of you buzz into the facility, eyes worried on the door when it swings shut, trying to not internalize the heavy click that signifies you’re all stuck in here, too. Bo-Katan is the only one who holds the keys.

She stops short in front of you, and you have to skid to an abrupt halt to avoid colliding into Din’s beskar as he stops walking. Bo-Katan turns around, looking at both of you. “I want to remind you,” she says, and there’s something complicated in her voice, “that he’s restrained. He—we have a strict protocol when it comes to dangerous prisoners,” she continues, staring over at you. “It’s just what we do here. But you need to know that when I turn him over to you, he’s yours. Completely. To do whatever you want with him. But I get to question him first, and only when I’m finished can the two of you start.”

You nod, slowly. Din doesn’t move at all. “And after?”

Bo-Katan looks over at Din, who’s still standing perfectly still. “You really don’t want the throne?”

He’s quiet. You hear him sigh through the modulator, so small that you don’t think she recognizes it. “I don’t think,” Din starts, voice measured and even, “that Mandalore would accept me as their leader. And I have responsibilities outside of this planet.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrow. There’s still something strange behind her eyes that you can’t quite quantify. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Din moved forward a half-step. “I’ll make it a fair fight,” he says, finally. “When we battle for the Darksaber. I won’t just give it to you. But you’re going to win, because this responsibility isn’t mine to bear. It’s yours, no matter what happened back on Gideon’s cruiser.”

Bo-Katan smiles, but it doesn’t fully meet her eyes. “You have no idea,” she says, finally, all the venom in her voice distant and faraway. “I question him first,” she reminds the both of you, and when she steps forward to rap on Gideon’s holding cell, all the nervousness that was fluttering around your body metabolizes in your diaphragm.

Gideon looks awful. He’s been stripped of his black robes, his cape that billow out like the personification of darkness. His hands are clasped in what looks like beskar handcuffs. There’s grey in his hair and the scruff on his chin, and he’s wearing pale blue scrubs that don’t do anything for his usually menacing exterior. When the three of you stand in a line in front of him, he looks up without a single glimmer of evil in his eyes. You swallow.

“How lovely of you,” he says, voice bracing and booming, “to come visit me.”

“You look great,” Bo-Katan spits at him, and even though the three of you have the upper hand, there’s something in Gideon’s face that starts glinting with that same wicked steel he used to hold. “Really taking to being in captivity well. What did you take that baby for?”

Gideon makes eye contact with Din. “He was important to me. Invaluable.”

“Important,” Bo-Katan says, evenly, stepping forward towards him, “right. Important why? Is Mandalore important, too?”

Gideon lifts both of his shackled hands, extends one long, menacing pointer finger in your direction. “She knows. Don’t you, Novalise?”

“Don’t say her name,” Din snaps, moving forward in a flash of beskar. You extend your hand as a barrier, and he stops behind it, even though you can feel him seething. “I should have killed you back there.”

“You should have,” Gideon agrees, with a sharp incline of his head. “Or you could have let me take her instead of the baby. Both would have been very useful. But the child served his purpose, already,” Gideon sighs, leaning back against the stark white bench he’s settled in on, “the girl has yet to serve hers.”

This makes the blood run white-hot through your veins. You clench your teeth together, narrowing your eyes.

“Why Mandalore?” Bo-Katan cuts in. “Why take the Darksaber? Why siege—”

“Why me?” you interject, stepping forward. You can feel Bo-Katan’s fiery glare on the side of your face, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of Gideon. “What value could I possibly bring to something that I hate so intensely?”

He smiles. It’s horrible. Even though he doesn’t show his teeth, you can still feel his venom lurking underneath. “You know the answer to that.”

“I’m not done—” Bo-Katan seethes, but you take another step, closer to Gideon. You can feel yourself shaking, and you clench your hands at your sides to not show him a single drop of fear.

“There’s not a thing in this galaxy you could do,” you say, inhaling sharply, staring down at the man in handcuffs in front of you, “that would make me join you. Ever. I’ll die before I let you take anything from me.”

Gideon smiles again, this time baring his teeth. “Oh, but you won’t,” he says, eyes roaming over you. You think you’re going to be sick. “You’re meant for great things. Far greater than being a Jedi. Far greater than being a silly little Rebel. The Empire didn’t die, girl. We only moved back into the shadows.”

You stare at him, shaking. “What’s the Order?” you ask. You want it to be direct, as sharp as Gideon is, but it comes out all wobbly. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to stand as menacingly as you can over Gideon, even though you know that even while he’s handcuffed, he could terrify an entire planet. You, for better or for worse, do not have that power. “What do they want with me?”

Gideon, for the first time, looks on edge. You track his eyes as they flutter; notice that his shoulders droop just a little under the weight of your question. Just as quickly, though, he recovers. Your heart is pounding a staccato rhythm of blood in your ears. “You think you’ve seen death and destruction?” he asks, and you hear Din sigh, angry and heavy, behind you. It startles you, and so does the sound of Bo-Katan’s boot on the floor. You were so preoccupied with Gideon, you forgot the both of them were there. You step back, towards the slight safety net of having two Mandalorians flank you, waiting for Gideon to continue. “You haven’t. We are going to rid the entire galaxy of opposition and build a bigger empire in its place. You will play quite the role. I’ve seen it,” he says, and even though the words terrify you, you catch a glimpse of a bluff.

“You don’t have the Force,” you retaliate, voice much more measured than you thought it would be. “There’s nothing special about your evilness. You haven’t seen a damn thing about what makes me up, but let me get one thing clear.” You squat down in front of him so you’re eye-level with his dark, malicious ones. “If the Order wants me, they’re going to have to catch me first. And even if they do catch me, I’ll die before they can corrupt a singular thing about me. I don’t know if you got the memo,” you continue, tilting your head to the left in the same way Din does when he’s bargaining, taking something in, “but I’m stronger than you. And however many members are in this Order, this new empire, know that each person resisting you and your tyranny is ten times the person that yours are.”

Gideon grimaces at you. You bare your teeth right back. “You have no idea what’s coming—”

“Tell me,” you interrupt him, jetting your chin up to match his menace, “or don’t. Either way, you’re going to rot in captivity, and your colleagues will be found. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the Empire lost the last war we had. I don’t think they have the power to win another one.”

Gideon’s anger melts away as you stare at him. Finally, you push yourself back up to a standing position, ignoring the way it strains your tired, sore knees. Silently, you turn and nod at Bo-Katan, who steps forward and immediately starts interrogating Gideon like she was never interrupted at all. You tune out of most of it, trying to register and metabolize every single thing that Gideon just told you. Frustrated, you blow a chunk of loose hair out of your eyes. You’re no closer to figuring out who the Order is and what they want, and all you know is that the Empire—or whoever’s growing in their place—is going to try to exploit you, experiment on you, use your sensitivity and power for their bidding. You thought this was going to clear something up, or at the very least, give you a lead to go on to share with the team on Nevarro and the New Rogue Squadron, but you’ve got nothing. You clench your fist, wracking your brain, trying to find any hidden clue, anything you can steal and get the upper hand on. Tiredly, as Bo-Katan and Gideon go head-to-head, your own drifts off to the Alliance, to Wedge and the rest of the team scouring the galaxy for information. Wedge, who keeps saving you. Wedge, who brought you back into a team that you had given up on a lifetime ago. Wedge, who—

Wedge who heard from Luke Skywalker. You gasp, making eye contact with Din under the mask. You can feel his gaze on you, and you offer up a small, crazed smile, indicating that you have something. You spin to look back at Bo-Katan, whose tone is just as even and scary as Gideon’s is.

“Wait,” you say, loudly, stepping forward. Everyone stops, staring at you. “You,” you seethe, eyes locked on Gideon, “you tried to put a gun to your head back on the cruiser once you realized who was coming to save them.” You look back at Din for confirmation, which he gives you by way of his swift nod. “You would have accepted death over meeting Luke Skywalker. You’re a coward,” you say, evenly, looking down on him. “You have no plans. You have no next moves. You’re just as much of a pawn in the Order’s plans as I am.” You cock your head to the side, mind racing a million miles a second. “This is bigger than you are,” you finish, finally. “You aren’t in charge of the Order. You’re scared of them.”

“Everyone should be!” Gideon snaps back, violently. There’s hatred burning in his eyes. You can feel the intensity of it even from a few feet away, and you try your best to keep your face expressionless, steady. “If you don’t turn for them on their own, they’ll make you. All the powers in the world can’t stop them from taking control. And no one can stop them. Not you. Not your Mandalorians. Not me. They’ll keep coming for you,” Gideon rumbles, jumping forward so that his shackles rattle. You try not to jump, but you take a half step backwards, trying to escape the sound. “They’ll come for the child. And they’re going to win.”

Something inside you breaks. You stride forward again, glaring down at him. “Not a chance,” you hiss, voice low and angry. “They’ll have to get through me first.”

Gideon curls his lips at you. “The First Order will strike you down or use you for your powers,” Gideon says, evenly, and your eyes slide open a tiny bit as his admission. Until now, you’ve only heard of the threat as the Order, and the addition of the word first pings something intentional. “All Jedi will be exterminated or turned.” You bare your teeth back at him, trying to match his evil smile.

“Yeah?” you say, staring at him, heart doing backflips in your chest, “well, I highly doubt that. Because Luke Skywalker sends his regards.” On that, Gideon’s malicious face turns ashy and grey, and you turn on your heel, rapping on the door for the guard to get out of the holding cell. Bo-Katan calls your name sharply, but you keep moving. Behind you, you hear Din tell her she can keep questioning Gideon, and then you feel the weight of his footfalls down the hall, catching up to you.

“Nova—”

“I have to tell Wedge—”

“Nova, slow down—”

You sigh, turning around. “He gave us something in there,” you say, earnestly, looking up at your own reflection in Din’s visor. “The First Order. That’s something specific. That’s a name. I need to call Wedge, and Boba Fett, and tell them what to be on the lookout for. I don’t care how powerful they think they are,” you continue, as you step closer to Din. Your voice almost sounds like it’s pleading, but there’s something volatile and huge building up to a crescendo in your chest, “we’re just as strong, and we can fight back.”

Din stares at you. Even under the visor, you can feel his eyes on yours. “Okay,” he says, finally, “what’s our game plan?”

Your knees sag under you as gratitude and relief spreads through your body. You open your mouth, but then there’s a horrific scream from the holding cell, and immediately, Din turns around and sprints back there. You follow in his footsteps, slower but intentional, heart racing as you fly down the corridor to the holding cell. Somehow, Gideon has overpowered Bo-Katan, his chained wrists both anchored around her throat, tugging her body back with all of his might, trying to choke the life out of her. Immediately, Din runs toward them, but Gideon lands an exceptionally well-placed kick on the still-injured part of his leg, and Din stumbles back, winded. You panic in place, eyes fluttering back and forth between Gideon and Bo-Katan. His are evil, lit with a fire that you know he’s draining out of her. This is the most helpless you’ve ever seen her, this great Mandalorian warrior who could cut anyone down when they were standing. She stares at you, and it takes a half-second, but then the Darksaber is out of its holster on your belt, and the blade ignites, dark and electric. Gideon’s grip lessens, just for a moment, and you move to his side, positioning the humming, electrical current right at his left side, angling it so you can sink it deep into his chest without hurting Bo-Katan at all.

“You’d save her?” Gideon says. He looks like he could kill you with his gaze alone. “She wants to take this planet back from the two of you. She’s double-crossed you both before.”

“I’m not you,” you answer, simply, glancing at Bo-Katan, who looks like she’s seconds away from losing consciousness, and you level the Darksaber at Gideon’s neck instead. “I have something you don’t.”

He releases his grip. Din pulls Bo-Katan out from Gideon’s grasp, and, slowly, you point the blade at his Adam’s apple. Nothing in you is wavering. “What’s that,” Gideon spits at you, glowering. He’s unhinged. You offer him a smile, listening to where Bo-Katan is inhaling raggedy breaths in the corner. You feel Din step forward, and for a second, just for a fleeting moment, it’s you and your Mandalorian.

“Belief,” you say, simply, shrugging your shoulders, relaxing your grip on the saber. “Belief that there are far more people in this galaxy that will fight against evil rather than joining it. Belief that even if the Order does rise, it will inevitably fall the same way that the Empire did. I’m just a rebel girl,” you say, simply, “but I believe that when the First Order comes for me, they’ll be sent packing.” You hold his eye contact, just for a second, and then you straighten up. “I learned from the best. Luke Skywalker would call it hope.”

Gideon stares at you. You stare back. He doesn’t open his mouth, so you sheath the Darksaber, stepping back. There’s something that feels like a dove in your chest. You know this isn’t over. You know that this is just the beginning, that the battles you’ve been fighting all of your life are a precursor to the terror that the First Order could wreak on the galaxy. And you aren’t naïve enough to think that they won’t come after you or the people you love. But you know that you have everyone you need by your side, you know you’re going to marry the love of your life and be reunited with your kid, and you know that whatever the First Order holds, the Alliance has it tenfold. You turn on your heel, letting a small, genuine, tiny, fleeting smile slit across your face, revealed to no one except the heavy door of Gideon’s cell. This is how we win, you think, by fighting them with peace in mind.

But before you can get out of the door, you feel the Darksaber being seized from your belt. You whirl back around, horrorstruck, hands in the air to convey the Force to come forward, but it’s Bo-Katan. You lunge toward her, trying to stop her, but she isn’t trying to steal it out of your grasp. She moves forward, too swiftly for Din or you to stop her, and she ignites the blade, swings with intention, and plunges it through Gideon’s chest.

“What are you doing!” you scream, running towards her as that wicked light fades from Gideon’s eyes, “we could have kept him alive for bargaining—”

“No,” a voice rings out, and you spin around, distressed gaze landing on Din, who was the one who spoke. “No, we couldn’t have. If we took him out of here, Nova,” Din says, staring at Gideon’s freshly skewered body, “he would have escaped or hurt one of us.”

You stare at him. “Was this the plan all along?” you ask, voice wobbling. You look over to Bo-Katan, who’s still struggling to breathe, short red hair sticking out from her normally very neat bob. “Were you just going to kill him?”

“No,” Bo-Katan manages, “but he’s right.” She raises a pale finger to Din. “He gave us what we needed. The more of the members of the First Order are dead,” she says, pausing to wheeze, “the better chance we have of winning.”

You blink at her, shaking your head. You move away from both of them, closer to the open door. “Your sister tried to lead this planet with diplomacy and peace.”

A small smile snakes across Bo-Katan’s face, but you can see the sadness in her eyes. “I,” she sighs, moving towards you, “am not my sister.”

You watch, stunned, as her and Din make their way out the door, and you follow them, wordless, out of the maze of holding cells. The door to the cell Gideon’s being kept in buzzes to indicate when it’s swung closed, and you can’t shake the knowledge that he’s dead in there, that the evil you thought you were fighting for months is finished, but that darkness is nowhere near gone.

None of you have said a thing to each other when you resurface from the labyrinth of holding cells, or when Bo-Katan leads you down a new hallway. You’re drained, and you have no energy even to argue. Slowly, you trod after both of them, and the corridor opens up to a large arena. The seats aren’t filled, but you gape at how large this place is. It seems that the entire population of the planet could fit into this amphitheater alone. Finally, Bo-Katan stops, turning to face Din. “I broke my promise,” she says, finally, and there’s a weight to her voice you haven’t seen before. “I told you I would turn Gideon over to you, not that I would kill him. You have the saber,” she says, eyes glancing briefly off your figure, staring at where the Darksaber had hung from your belt, tossing it back across the air to Din, “it’s yours. I don’t have any grounds for dueling you. You’re the rightful leader of Mandalore.”

Din stares at her. Slowly, he shakes his head at Bo-Katan, taking a step forward. “Fight me for it.”

“I’m saying,” she sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in her voice, “that I don’t have any reason to duel you. You’re the rightful owner of that thing now, not me. Take it.”

Din throws it across the arena to you. “Fight me for it.”

Bo-Katan looks over at you. You gape, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I can’t.”

“Bo-Katan of the clan Kryze,” Din calls, voice booming and commanding, “as the rightful Mand’alor, I order you to fight me for this Darksaber.”

Bo-Katan looks over at you. You shrug, tossing the saber back through the air to Din. “He ordered you. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Stop enabling him,” she grumbles, but she steps forward, squares her shoulders, preparing for a fight. You move to the edge of the ring in this giant, stone colosseum, sending a plea to the Maker himself that one of them doesn’t kill the other. They’re strangely on the same side, even after all of that, but you’ve seen how these two Mandalorians interact, and usually, every battle ends with the opposition on the ground.

Bo-Katan lunges. Din sidesteps her, quick and easy. He lets her jab and swipe and punch at him, pull at his beskar, and he just swirls around like they’re in a strange, choreographed dance. He’s good. He’s the best you’ve ever seen, quick and intentional, not pulling a single punch. But Bo-Katan is good, too, and she’s fast and fights with a specific vigor that Din somehow doesn’t match. You hold your bated breath in the hollow of your mouth as you watch the two of them lunge and toss the saber around, trying to knock the other to the dust.

For someone who claimed she had no legal or official standing to become the ruler of Mandalore, Bo-Katan fights like she’s in charge. She’s an expert, and her training outshines even Din’s. Her eyes aren’t even blazing with adrenaline. She’s just fighting like excelling is an extension of her body, like this is what she’s born for. Half of Din’s blows don’t even land on her, and neither of them are speaking or grunting. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they weren’t even breathing, just inhaling and exhaling punches and kicks, like that alone could sustain them.

You lean back against the ring, staring at them. Your hair hangs heavy in the braid it’s fallen out of, and exhaustion starts to leech in from the corners of your eyes, punishment from the sleepless night you had. It seems impossible that hours ago, you were being proposed to again. All of this feels a lifetime away from your real one, the strange, nomadic family unit you had on the Crest with Din and the baby. And you let your heart yearn for Grogu, which you haven’t dared to feel in months. It hurts too much to think about him, to remember that you didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye, that he’s off somewhere else in the galaxy and even if you could find him, you’d be terrified of the danger you might bring him. You uncross your arms over your chest and bring the pads of your fingers down on your shoulders, trying to eradicate some of the ache. Your eyes fall back on Din and Bo-Katan. She has the saber now.

You stare at her, watching her swipe the blade expertly at Din. You don’t know how much you trust her—you have faith that she won’t actively try to kill your Mandalorian—but the way she plunged the saber expertly into Gideon’s heart a few minutes ago is still a blazing image imprinted on the back of your eyelids. She catches the beskar, once, twice. You stand up straighter. You know Din said he’d let her win, but seeing him this much on the offensive is starting, jarring. It’s unlike him. She strikes, again and again, and right when you see him about to admit defeat and topple over, it’s like something ignites inside of him. Swiftly, he twists around, slides through the dusty ground, and lands his boot firmly against the plate of armor covering Bo-Katan’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her, pushing her into the dirt. You feel your eyes widen. Hers do, too. Din’s standing over her, triumphant, the flickering pulse and thrum of the Darksaber safely in his hand.

He hauls her to her feet. You’re expecting to see a bruised ego, to have to step between the two of them to play peacemaker, but there’s this intensity in Bo-Katan’s eyes that isn’t malicious or conniving. Impressed, you register after a few seconds of staring, she’s impressed. Her mouth is pressed in an even thin line, and she looks from the Darksaber to Din. “Told you,” she finally says, and there’s almost no edge to her voice, “it belongs to you.”

For what feels like the first time in this whole battle, Din looks down at the ignited Darksaber in his hand. It’s a wicked weapon, the outline spitting black and white sparks. It’s menacing and it’s scary and it doesn’t match the energy of Mandalore at all.

“Don’t tell me you still don’t want it,” Bo-Katan says, and there’s a spark of disbelief in her voice, “not after all that.”

“I want the weapon,” Din says, finally, his voice faraway. “But I don’t want the responsibility.”

Bo-Katan sighs, agitated. “You—”

“I won’t do it,” he interjects, looking from the blade to her. “Not unless you help me rule.”

You stare at him. Bo-Katan’s eyes bug out, and she furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “That’s not how it works,” she starts, and Din holds out a hand, stopping her.

“I’m Mand’alor now,” Din says, and the word, the regality of it, sounds like it tastes funny in his mouth, “I get to choose how I rule, right? I don’t want to do it without either of you.”

You step forward, looking at him. “D—Mando,” you start, catching yourself just in time, “we have—a war that needs to be won. We have evil all over the galaxy chasing us down. We—” you stop short, inhaling, “I don’t have—I—”

“Mandalore will be our home base,” Din interrupts. “We move the Rebels here, and this is where our hub of operations will be. For the time being, at least, until we fight back against the Order or someone else fights me for the throne. I said we can’t have everything,” he says, and you can feel the weight of his eyes on yours, “but maybe I was wrong.”

You stare at him. “This is a big deal—”

“I gave you my life, Nova, and my word. I’m never leaving you again,” Din interjects, looking back to Bo-Katan, “and I know no one will take my leadership seriously if you aren’t a part of it.”

Bo-Katan’s eyes narrow into slits. “I’m stubborn.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to butt heads ninety percent of the time. More, probably.”

“I know that, too. But I can’t—and won’t—do it without you.”

“Mandalore hates Jedi,” Bo-Katan continues, and you shrink when she looks over at you. “And they’re not the biggest fans of the Alliance. Not me. But most of our planet were purged by people who wielded the Force, and they’re not going to take kindly to her. And, in turn, they’re not going to take kindly to you, either.”

“I don’t,” Din starts, “hear the word no in there anywhere.”

Finally, something lights up as Bo-Katan smiles. “This is going to be hard.”

Din looks over at you, lacing his fingers through yours. You feel warmth spread through your entire body as he’s about to speak. You know exactly what he’s going to say.

“Well,” Din says, pulling you in closer, flicking the Darksaber off and tossing it through the air to Bo-Katan, “good thing we don’t scare easy.”

You’re fully expecting to spend the night on Mandalore back in Kicker, the place where you’ve made your home, and your bed, but Bo-Katan offers you a room at the inn attached to the main building, and sleeping in a real bed—not half-made ones in hostels and Rebel hideouts—is a luxury you can’t refuse. You spend what feels like hours just laying spreadeagled on top of the comforter, trying to take in everything from the last few days. Most of you is still shell-shocked in complete disbelief that you’re here right now, that Din will be ruling a planet, that Gideon is dead, and that you’re nowhere even close to figuring out what the First Order is or what they want with you. Power, maybe. Midichlorians, definitely. But so much of this is completely obscure, so hidden in darkness, and you have the sinking feeling that you’ve only won one tiny battle. The war isn’t here yet. And when it is, it’s going to take everything out of you.

You need to train. You’ve been so preoccupied with being on the run with Din, and just trying to stay alive as you move from place to place, that you haven’t spent enough time practicing your hold on the Force. You’re not sure where Din is—probably finding food for the two of you—so you sit up, looking for anything small and movable enough to practice with. There’s no little metal balls in the room, and your heart seizes with how much you miss the baby, but there’s small glasses next to the small food bay across the room, so you close your eyes, clear your mind, and let everything run out of you.

It should be easier by now. You’ve held Moff Gideon at bay. You’ve knocked down an entire regiment of soldiers. You’ve been able to do the impossible, by sheer energy alone. But there’s something preoccupying the rest of your mind, something pulsing and nebulous and just beyond your grasp, and you don’t know what the roadblock is. It takes almost all of your energy to move the glass across the room, and you sink back against the bed, depleted. You try to chalk it up to exhaustion, fatigue from running yourself ragged all over the galaxy the last few days, and there’s still that awful nagging feeling that you’re forgetting something, that you know what obstacle is in your path, even if you can’t visualize it.

It’s hopeless. You punch a fist into the soft down pillow and immediately settle your head down in the dent you created, letting your hair pool out of your braid and onto the bed. You sigh, watching night descend on Mandalore outside of the window. The planet plunges beautifully into darkness—it’s a slow, steady blueness. There’s nothing sharp about this planet itself, you realize, even though its people are. It’s fighting. Tired, but fighting. And something about that makes your heart ache in recognition in your chest.

There’s still a haunted part of you that needs to decipher the visions you’ve bene having—huge, symbolic clashes that are nearly impossible to figure out. Your visions and premonitions have always been hazy, but they’ve also had discernable elements—Ahsoka’s lightsabers, the expression on Grogu’s face, Din with his beskar staff. The only recent premonition that seems to have a directive is the one of you looking straight into Luke Skywalker’s face when he’s old and grey, his mouth twisted up into one word. Go.

The memory of him alone makes something frenzied catapult to life inside your chest. You push yourself off on the heels of your hands, ignoring the blissful way they gently sink into this mattress, digging through your stuff for your commlink. Hailing Wedge, who’s in the same sector as you are, shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but your commlink is impossible to connect. You curse, loudly, and you grab your blaster and strap the comm back on your wrist, about to run out the door to see if you have any better luck at a connection outside, until you collide straight into a full armor of beskar instead.

“Ow,” you remark, rubbing your forehead. “You know, having the skill of stealth is super useful when it comes to hunting bounties, but when it makes your fiancé run straight into indestructible armor, it’s not the greatest.”

Din sighs, airy and light, resting his hands gently on your shoulders. “Do forgive me,” he rumbles, and something wet and hot inside you ignites, “I couldn’t stand to be away from you a second longer.”

You grin up at him, all the frustration and urgency from the moment before slowly running out of you. “Where were you?” you ask, walking backwards, leading Din towards the big bed that swallows up most of the room. “I was getting worried.”

“Food,” Din says, and then he dumps a bag full of rations on the bed. You watch as he rotates around you, sitting on the bed. “We needed to stock up.”

You stare at him. There are weeks’ worth of food on the bed. “But—” you start, eyes tracking the massive bundle to his visor, “I thought we were staying here? On Mandalore?”

Din cocks his head to the side. “We will be,” he allows, sighing again, “but we still need to meet the rest of the team to fill them in on what we learned. And I have a feeling that Fett dug up more evidence than we did.”

You swallow. “Did you mean it?” you ask, and there’s a wobble in your voice you weren’t intending. “When you said that you’d take the throne, but only if the Alliance was able to operate out of here too?”

Din looks up at you, and then, before you can say anything else, he unlocks his helmet with a hiss, and you’re staring into his beautiful face. You step forward, hungry, trying to soak in every centimeter of it. Lightly, you press just your fingertips against his bare skin, landing between his open legs. For a minute, all you do is stare at each other in the silence.

“Yes,” he says, finally. His voice sounds so much freer out of the modulator. You nod slightly at his affirmation. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to ensure that this is our main base of operations, but I meant everything I said back there. There’s a war coming,” he continues, and you feel the heaviness of his confirmation, “and I think the only way we’re going to win any part of it is if we work together.”

You smile down at him, strangely emotional. “I thought you liked doing things alone, Mandalorian,” you manage, voice high and breathy.

Din’s eyes flutter from your own and your lips, and you inhale sharply as he stares at you like he’s about to devour you. “Not anymore,” he answers, finally. “You’re proof that it’s so much better to be part of a team.”

Before he can say anything else, you bridge the gap between the two of you and kiss him right on the mouth. Everything in you is rushing and colliding, wet and hot. It feels divine. You’re dying for him. Every time the two of you have had your hands on each other since reuniting, it’s been quick and to the point, trying to inhale the other person longer than a handful of minutes. You sink up against Din as you kiss him, as slowly and worshipfully as you can, feeling his lips melding and parting yours. It’s fully dark, now, and you can make out the identifying features of his face only because you’ve spent so much time cataloguing it. His hooked nose, his plush mouth, his deep, devout brown eyes. You kiss him, and you keep kissing him, as you step closer and closer. He still has all the beskar on, and you don’t rush to yank it off. You press the flesh of your thigh up against his crotch, and you intake a sharp breath as you feel him harden against your touch. You don’t say anything. Neither of you do. You don’t need to, not right now. Your bodies can do the talking for you.

You’re sighing back and forth into each other’s mouths, like you’re kissing for the first time all over again. There’s something that feels ceremonial about this—so real, so far away from desert planets and back alleys and old haunts. This is the kind of love you made back on Naator, the pulsing warmth you shared on Yavin. There’s something more between the both of you, a nebula of energy and passion and knowledge that you’re equals, that you’ve been to hell and back together. As you slowly start removing beskar plates, letting the metal clatter to the floor at your feet, Din tugs at your outfit, removing the trousers he bough from you, his big hands lingering on the curve of your back, thumb pebbling over your tits, coaxing you closer and closer. When you’re both basically undressed—stripped down to everything except your underwear, you sink down on Din’s knee, and he moans into your mouth with the feeling of your slick on his bare leg.

“Stay,” he breathes into the hollow right under your ear, and a shiver of pleasure rockets white hot through your entire body. You obliged as his knee starts thrumming up against you, pressing that sweet vibration right into your clit, and between the intensity of that feeling and the way his mouth is mumbling kisses all the way down the slope of your neck, your orgasm comes quick and fast. You’re loud. Embarrassingly loud, the kind of loud you only ever feel bold enough to let loose when the two of you are alone on a singular starship in the crush of space. You don’t care enough to be ashamed as he keeps pulsing his leg up between your thighs, pulling at your hips to grind yourself down harder and harder on that same spot, your whole body shaking from the glorious impact.

“I’m not—” you choke out, voice laden with pleasure, “—going anywhere.”

Just as intensely as he started, Din’s mouth vacuums off of you, and the absence of his warmth is jarring. You gasp in the dark, feeling his scruff travel down the other side of your face. He stops right up against your ear. You wait with bated breath for him to speak. “Cyar’ika,” he whispers, “that’s my line.”

So quickly that you don’t have a singular breath to inhale before you register the movement, he’s throwing you back against the bed. You let out a gasp, and then you feel his teeth sink in lightly to where your panties are riding high up on your hips. He uses his mouth to pull them all the way off of you, and then he stands over you, staring.

“Open your legs.”

Shaking, you do. “Din—”

He looks up at you. You can barely make it out in the dark, but you know what his eyes on you feels like. You gulp. “This is my apology for not letting you fight your own battles back in Canto Bight,” he says, and then his mouth is between your thighs.

You should probably be used to this feeling by now. He’s an expert, his tongue swirling and flicking out hours of devotion on your clit, but somehow, he gets better every time. You cum again, then again, and then he pushes a finger inside of you, and you can’t even be embarrassed about the sucking, squelch of a sound that your pussy makes to let him in because it feels so fucking good. Then you’re on the edge again, and again, and then he’s pushed you over for the fourth time.

“Let—” you start, raggedly, “stars, Din, let me taste y—you—”

“Not done,” he murmurs from licking out his name between your legs, and you size the top of his soft, dark hair and pull him upwards.

“Didn’t say you had to be,” you breathe, licking a slight layer of your orgasm off his lips, “just that I wanted to even out the score.”

His moan is just as breathy and high as yours usually are, and you scramble off the bed to fall at his feet, wiping off the small bead of precum from the tip, trying your best to maintain eye contact as you take every single inch of him down your throat, not caring about the tears it makes your eyes spring up, and caring even less about the lack of oxygen. You just want him to feel as divine as he always makes you feel, and as his fingers clench in your hair without abandon, you gasp around the force of his cock pounding your mouth into the next universe. “’M close,” he rasps out, and, reluctantly, you pull your mouth free, marveling at how hard and swollen he is for your tongue alone.

“I can keep going—”

“No,” Din interrupts, and then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, spinning you around so you’re facing away from him, staring at the wall. You have no idea what he’s going to do, so you gasp when he pushes the head up against where you’re soaking, rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you. Teasing both of you, really, by the moans emitted from his mouth mixed with yours, and when you bounce down to take a few inches, just a little bit, neither of you can control the rhythm. Din takes your hip with one hand, pressing the other flat against the small of your back, and you feel stars explode behind your eyes as his hand comes down to spank against your ass. It’s surprising and raw and when he takes his thumb and lightly drags it down the slit in your ass, you gasp, wet and hot.

“Do you like that?” he whispers, and you toss your hair over one shoulder, nodding vigorously. “Do you want me to play with this?”

Before you do anything but moan, he drags a clean finger through your slick, pushing just the tiniest bit against the hole.

“Fuck—” you manage, and as he wriggles his pinky inside you, you cum again. “Did—did you turn me around so you could do that?”

“Yes,” Din answers, one hand slinking over your shaking legs so he can rub at your clit again. “Moan for me, cyar’ika.” You do. Loudly.

“I want—”

“What?” he murmurs into your ear, “use your words.”

“When you take over the throne,” you gasp, blinded white-hot with desire, “I want you to fuck me like this on it.”

Din stands up. You aren’t expecting the movement, and you gasp as he walks you over to the wall. Before you can say anything else, his mouth is buried in the crook of your neck, telling you he’s about to cum. When he does, the feeling of him squeezing and shaking inside of you is enough to push you over the edge again. Slowly, slicked in sweat, both of you sink to the ground, still entwined, breathing heavily.

It’s so much like your normal position—up against the wall, staring at each other—that you start smiling.

“What?” Din asks, you can tell he’s wearing a grin, too.

“If you can lead just a fraction as good as you are at sex,” you breathe, “you’re going to be the best Mand’alor this planet has ever known.”

You hear him sigh, a tiny indication of a snort, and then his hands are on you, pulling you closer. “I can’t do it without you.”

You touch your fingers to his face, still warm. “Well,” you start, happiness flitting through your voice, “good thing I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Din, suddenly, just pulls you closer. “Marry me.”

You blink up at him. “That is the plan,” you remind him, gently, and he shakes his head and starts redressing, throwing odd articles of clothing back over at you as he snaps the beskar back into place. “What are you—what are you doing, exactly?”

Din strides over to you, swallowing your face in his hands. “No. Right now Let’s go to the ship and say our vows.”

You stare at him. “I—”

“Do you not want to?”

The anxiousness in his voice nearly splits your heart in two. “Of course I want to,” you say, earnestly, closing the distance between the two of you, “but I—I’m not a Mandalorian. I want a ceremony. Somewhere—important to us. Like Yavin. Or Naator.” Your heart wrenches. “And I really want Grogu there.”

Din looks down at you, thumb stroking over your cheek. “Then we have a ceremony. With whoever you want. But I want to be able to take my mask off and kiss you as my wife, and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Your heart flips over. “Just the two of us?” you breathe, blood pumping in your ears.

“Just the two of us,” Din confirms. “No one has to know but us.”

A smile lights up your whole face. “Deal,” you answer, and then you’re being pulled from the inn by your Mandalorian, both of you racing back to the edge of town where Kicker is parked. Giddy, the two of you board, and once you’re in the cockpit, Din pulls off his helmet. You look around the ship for something light to wear in lieu of a vail, and you find a cream-colored shawl that you drape around your head.

“I love you,” you murmur to Din, staring up at him, taking in every inch of his face. “Ni kar’tayl su.”

“Darasuum,” he agrees. “I’m—I’m going to say my vows in Mando’a. You can, too, or you can say whatever you want.” He inhales, sharply, finger tracing a pattern over your cheek. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde, Novalise.”

Your heart turns over in your chest. “What—what does it mean?” Your heart is beating so fast.

“We are one whether together or apart,” Din recites, sounding dazed. “We will share everything. We will raise our children as warriors.”

“We are one,” you echo, softly. “We do share everything. But I think our child is plenty good at being a warrior on his own.”

Din lets out a laugh. A real one, unencumbered and free. “You have a point.”

“I love you,” you whisper again. “You’re the other half of my soul. You make me quiet when it’s loud; you make me bright when it’s dark. There is no other person I would rather fight this battle with.” You inhale, breath shuddering. “I know you. For an eternity, I’ll know you. And I’ll love you even longer.” You pulse up on your tiptoes, staring deep into his eyes. “This is only the beginning.”

Din cups both sides of your face with his big hands. “It better be,” he agrees, pulling your makeshift veil away from your head, “considering we have forever.”

You beam back at him, step one foot forward, and meet his mouth in the middle. The two of you kiss, in silence, in love, for what feels like an eternity. Only when your commlink starts bleeping do you break apart.

Your eyes find Din’s. He nods. “Hello?” you manage, voice an octave higher than normal.

“Rebel girl,” Wedge’s voice floats through. The both of you sigh, relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you for over a day.”

“Bad signal,” you say, glancing back at Din’s. “We were—uh, preoccupied. With Gideon. We’re on Mandalore. It’s a long story—”

“Nova,” Wedge interrupts, “I heard from Luke again.”

Your heart accelerates, then floats down to nothing. “What did he say?” you manage, breathily, voice quavering.

“He said,” Wedge sighs, “that you keep showing up in his visions. He wants to talk to you. No,” Wedge adjusts, “he needs to talk to you.”

You turn away from Din, pressing the comm against your mouth, bracing yourself against Kicker’s sturdy wall. “About what?”

“Something called the First Order,” Wedge says, and you whirl back around, making eye contact with Din. “And—and he said your kid wants to see you.”

Din grabs at your wrist. “Is he okay?”

“They’re both fine,” Wedge says, “but—uh, he gave me—a way to reach him. You can send him a hologram. I would do it now. Whatever he else he wants, I think he needs it soon. Did you—did you say that you interrogated Gideon?”

“Long story,” you mumble, brushing your hair impatiently out of your mind. “I’ll explain everything after I send a hologram to Luke.”

“Call me back,” Wedge agrees, and then he’s gone, with the address of where to send Luke Skywalker a hologram bleeping on your comm. Shakily, you inhale, and Din stands behind you. You project your two figures into your commlink, silhouettes blue and faded.

“General Skywalker,” you whisper, and then stronger, “My name is Novalise Djarin.” You inhale, exhale, looking straight into the light. “I hear I have something you want.”

*

TAGLIST: @myheartisaconstellation | @fuuckyeahdad | @pedrodaddypascal | @misslexilouwho | @theoddcafe | @roxypeanut | @lousyventriloquist | @ilikethoseodds | @strawberryflavourss | @fanomando | @cosmicsierra | @misssilencewritewell | @rainbowfantasyxo |  @thatonedindjarinfan | @theflightytemptressadventure | @tiny-angry-redhead | @cjtopete86 | @chikachika-nahnah | @corvueros | @venusandromedadjarin | @jandra5075 | @berkeleybo | @solonapoleonsolo | @wild-mads | @charmedthoughts | @dindjarinswh0re | @altarsw |  @weirdowithnobeardo | @cosmicsierra | @geannad | @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al | @burrshottfirstt | @va-guardianhathaway | @starspangledwidow | @casssiopeia | @niiight-dreamerrrr | @ubri812 | @persie33 | @happyxdayxbitch | @sofithewitch | @hxnnsvxns |  @thisshipwillsail316 | @spideysimpossiblegirl | @dobbyjen | @tanzthompson | @tuskens-mando | @pedrosmustache | @goldielocks2004 | @fireghost-xas always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!! (and if you've already asked me and you're not on it, please message me again!!!)

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!!!! it's with such a bittersweet heart that i'm writing this message to all of you. it truly has been the joy of my entire year to write this story for myself, and then for all of you! we have one more chapter left (don't worry, it's going to be PACKED and likely extra long), and i cannot wait to share it all with you.

the sequel is coming! i promise! i might need a few weeks to prep and get all my thoughts in order, but i am so stoked to let this baby bird of a story fly free and start working on the next one. i've decided that i'm going to write it in third person, with Nova as her own character, so for all of you who typically enjoy OCs/third person POVs, this one is for you! it means the absolute world to me that you all care about Something More (and have come to love Nova) so much. SM started as something for me to write for my own sake, and when i decided to share it, it changed my whole life. i consider each and every one of you my friends, and i am so, so lucky to have shared this journey with you!!!

more details will come of course on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) about the sequel and what the last chapter of SM is going to entail. i've also been brainstorming ideas for a new series of novels, so if you're interested in my writing outside of SM, i'll eventually post about that on tumblr and tiktok too!

CHAPTER THIRTY (the grand finale) WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JULY 17TH!!! sending so much love to you all, let's do this fabulous thing one more time!

xoxo, amelie

[mskimkaty]

Quit | J.JH

Angst, Smut, fluff (little bit on the end)

Synopsis: You might think that some people who did you bad have little impact in your life, tip toeing from situations that you knew could repeat the same mistakes but there will always be that one person who will destroy all your resolve and you’ll find yourself fucking your rules for them.

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: love u all. pls enjoy! (not really proof read)

Edit: uhmmm pls don’t judge me but this is actually my bf and my story of how we met to how we become couples. Alright. Enjoy!!!!

You hated how you didn’t take “searching for college schools” seriously, and now, you’re all but stuck for the rest of your college years in the same school you graduated from High school. You know it’s a good school, having to be in the top 7 elite schools all over the country that has an institution that offers all levels of education— but you honestly don’t care about that right now. You wished you didn’t choose the easy road in finding a good college because now you’re stuck with a university that has zero-base for their grading system, 75 marks as their passing grade, and put their students with fully loaded units— having up to 30 units per semester. How Asian can it get?

 Fourth-year high school wasn’t your year, when a particular boy, Jeon Jungkook broke your heart. He was a close friend first before he became someone more than that, you told yourself not to be involved with the likes of him in any way, you first meet during your junior year by a mutual friend—Joy, your best friend, was in the same class as him, thus, the reason the both of you became close.

 Joy warned you about him and you knew because that’s what you told her base on your first impression on Jungkook, but you still tested the waters. And that’s how you broke your heart for the first time, you let yourself trust him despite all the bad things that you heard about him, you ignore everything because you were happy around him, but you were tired of having a relationship without a label and the fact that he doesn’t want you to be seen together speaks so much. You went on a retreat for 3 days in your senior year as it was a requirement for every graduating students by your catholic school, you weren’t going steady per se, but you still talked nonetheless, as he was getting busy with basketball, and you, having the cheerleading competition around the corner, training, exams, and graduation. You both have so much on your own plates.

 You kept on seeing red flags— the way he’s not responding to your calls and messages for a week, you haven’t really seen him around the school as varsity players have their own retreat, and when you saw a photo posted in his Instagram account with a girl in your year. She was a transferee, that’s all you remember after receiving a text message of him saying sorry. You hated how forgiving you can be, you hoped you can be tough and talk back to him— but no, you never had the chance to say what you wanted to say to him. You just let everything go. You can’t even ask someone to comfort you because of the fact you were a secret. You didn’t even know why you agreed with that kind of set up in the first place. Why did you choose something temporarily for a piece of mind? You hated how easy you can get sometimes, but you closed that chapter in your life after cursing him for months in your head and some Friday night parties until you graduated High school.

 And now, you’re in your second year of college and very much single. You received a message from Seulgi, saying that she needs to cancel your plans from eating out because of a midterm exam that got rescheduled she was your best friend together with Joy, Irene, and Wendy since high school but college happened and the five of you went with different schools except for Wendy and Seulgi who enrolled at the same University. You have a heavy sigh, it’s not that you don’t have friends in your own department, you do. It’s just that all your girlfriends have classes and won’t be done until 3 in the afternoon— and you’re very much hungry.

 You saw a very familiar face exiting the lesson hall next to yours and you’re quick on your feet to hide behind the walls of your classroom.

 “Y/n, I’ve already seen you, you know.” Suh Johnny stands beside you with Ten beside him smiling at you, you three both did your handshakes after getting drag out of the room. “Have you eaten already?” Ten asks and you shook your head. Johnny put his arms around your shoulders and the three of you walked out of the campus to eat out.

 “Oppa, what’s that?” you asked Ten preferring to his phone when you all settled down while Johnny browses the menu on what to order. “Jaehyun asked if he can join.” He says to the both of you, you look at Johnny as you both shrugs. Jung Jaehyun was once an IT student, he shifted after a year into your department and incredibly smart in mathematics. He was instantly everyone’s friend in your year.

 “I’m cool with him,” Johnny says and they both look at you. You’re not really fond of everybody and not entirely friendly with everyone. You’ve been close with Johnny and Ten who were much older than you only because you knew them since High school. “It’s cool.” You muttered.

 “But you wouldn’t be comfortable around other people, though.” Ten commented. They were completely aware of your introverted ass. They know what happened to you during your fourth-year high school, not only with Jeon Jungkook but the fact that all of your female classmates during your senior year made you an outcast. You honestly find it funny now, since you know that you have four amazing friends who stuck with you through thick and thin. You wished you had taken up the opportunity when Seulgi asked you to join her for hunting college schools before graduating High school so that you can be with her throughout your college years, but what’s done is done, what happened to you in the past brought you here right now and made you who you are. It wasn’t a problem for you— you like having the quality over quantity. You like how your circle of friends isn’t that big, too many people in your life can cost you too much trouble in the end, you know that because you’ve already experienced it first hand, having many people in your life will only lead you to disappointments.

 You weren’t familiar with Jung Jaehyun, per se, you just had a class with him during the second semester of your first year of college, that one professor you disliked so much teaching algebra instead of business mathematics and had the audacity to fail you. You hated how you got a failed mark while Jaehyun passed the subject despite his absences, you acknowledge him for having a big brain when it comes to numbers but you still find it unfair how he passed and you failed, you wished you could be as smart as him. You first met him when Mark introduced you to him after your Psychology class, you were talking with Mark about your Final output for the subject when he came up to Mark— fist-bumping, while wearing a white hoodie and black jeans, had those big Nike bags that you knew Basketball players uses, his white sneakers clean and you look at yours— completely worn out and definitely needed a new pair.

 He was smiling at you, eyeing Mark while waiting to be introduced to you. That got you rolling your eyes at him unknowingly, making him slightly intimidated with you. You shot Jaehyun a fake smile— he was cute, charming, tall, and obviously another varsity player. God, your skin starts to crawl, another varsity player is being too friendly with you. You bid Mark goodbye, and that was the start of your acquaintances with Jung Jaehyun, he was everywhere, becoming the Mr. Congeniality of your Department in no time when he shifted after a year in Information Technology.

 The three of you waited for Jaehyun to arrive before ordering your lunch, you waited for another minute before the door opened and Jaehyun walked in wearing a black long tee and denim jeans paired with his clean white sneakers. He settled down beside Ten who was in front of you and you started to become uncomfortable. Johnny and Jaehyun decided to get your orders and you were left with Ten in your booth.

 “Y/N, Jaehyun’s a good guy, you already know him for half a year, why are you still uncomfortable around him?” Ten asks you as you heave a heavy sigh. It’s not that you're uncomfortable around him because of your trust issues, you’re uncomfortable because clearly, he’s your type, and you’re not comfortable with the idea of it, you know he already had a girlfriend, you saw his wallpaper for a second when he put it down on the table before locking it. “I’m not. It’s just that—Oppa, can’t I be shy around people?” you countered, Ten looked at you funnily. “Don’t kid with me, y/n- ah. You guys both have International Cuisine, right?” he asks and you nod. “Then, you’ll be around him more often from now on, loosen up, He’s a great guy, if he did something to you, just tell me and Johnny and we’ll take care of it for you.” he flashed you a smile and you brush it off while giggling at him. “Thanks, Oppa, but no thanks.” You say and the two came back with two trays full of food. “It’s on me.” Johnny settled down next to you and you shoot him a grateful smile as the four of you started digging.

 “Are you throwing a party for your birthday?” Johnny suddenly asked, you nod at him and he muttered a small okay while your eyes darted at Jaehyun— it would be totally rude not to invite him for your birthday party when the topic is already laid on the table. Plus, he was looking at the three of you intently, seemingly out of place with the subject of the conversation. “Jaehyun, you should come on my birthday, It’s on the 19th, just some drinks and food on me, nothing too grand.” You find yourself saying and Ten and Johnny were shocked that you invited him. you clear your throat and continued “Can you guys ask everyone? I haven’t seen Yuta, Jungwoo, and Taeil Oppa but I already asked a bunch of people.” You added. They all agreed. “Thanks for inviting me, I think I don’t have anything going on that day,” Jaehyun commented. “Sounds like a plan.” You say and the four of you continued digging in.

 That night on your birthday, everything made a 360-degree turn in your life. Having 23 boys in your flat and some of your girlfriends turn out to be so much fun. When you run out of drinks you find yourself on Jaehyun’s passenger seat as the two of you drive to the nearest store to purchase some alcohol— You and Jaehyun seem like the only person sober enough to walk and drive your way outside the comforts of your home. You felt really comfortable around him, he hasn’t made a move on you or anything, and you think that maybe it’s because he already had a girlfriend and is faithful to their relationship.

 “Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend with you?” you asked just to start a conversation. “You knew?” he asked you while throwing you side glances, you nod your head yes. “It’s kind of complicated, plus, we're not official.” He continued which made you shocked, he was being open with you shockingly. “What? Why?” for some reason, it made you really curious. He gives you a heartily chuckle “It’s complicated.” You only nod.

 When you came back to your flat, you and Jaehyun were left to sit together, Mark and Haechan were completely out of it, while Joy and Irene are having a conversation with Jisung and Chenle. It’s nice to see them conversing with each other. Johnny was busy preparing the drinks with Yuta, Taeyong, and Seulgi, while the others are setting up the karaoke on your flat screen Tv hanged on your living room’s wall.

 You thought that was the last time you’ll see Jung Jaehyun, or you thought that was the last time you’ll be together in the same room as well as be at the same table together. You forgot that you both have classes together, that you’re practically in the same department, you honestly forgot that you’re both in the same circle of friends.

 You’ve been closer with the guys as time goes by, they were nothing like the people from your High school, they were honestly cool to be with, it just that, they like to unwind sometimes, and that “sometimes” means every Friday of the week, unwinding with drinks and such. This time, Jaehyun was the host, and Jungwoo together with Taeil managed to dragged and convinced you out of girlfriend nights. You have been hanging out with them more than usual and you were getting closer with Jaehyun, particularly, you keep on looking for him at gatherings and he kept on looking out for you. There was an unspoken mutual understanding between the two of you, you know it was wrong, even if you find yourself giddy and happy when he messages you or when he calls you before you go to bed when the two of you meet in between subjects just to eat together. You knew you were repeating the same mistakes as you did with Jungkook, and you can’t help but fuck yourself because everything is wrong at the same time feels right. How screwed can you get? Why do you always choose temporary happiness over a peace of mind?

 That night, when most of the guys left to go home and some of them left to smoke outside, you find yourself alone with Jaehyun in his living room. You poured him and yourself a shot, the guys were surely taking their time outside. “One-shot.” You tell him and you both down the tequila in seconds, hissing at the taste burning your throats. You stared at him, thinking that you have to start distancing yourself from him, you don’t want to ruin what he had with his girl. Your stomach turns just by thinking about the possibilities of ruining someone else’s relationship. You were better than that.

 You move your gaze away from him, you were about to pour another shot when you felt Jaehyun’s warm hand on your neck pulling you closer. You felt his warm lips on yours, it was sweet and warm, burning you within, but the taste was anything but sweet— you tasted the tequila out of his lips as he licks your bottom lip that got you responding to him, you closed your eyes and find yourself fucking your boundaries for him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer by the waist, rubbing small circles on your skin. You break the kiss as you put your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath. He was about to kiss you again when you move your face away from him, trying to put some distance away from him. “Did I do something wrong?” you heard him saying. You wipe the smudged lipstick on your skin below your lips as you face him. “Jaehyun, you’re not completely single.” You said. “But I’m not in a relationship either, I told you months ago, it was complicated.” He sits beside you properly, a hand clamped together as you look at him.

 “Jaehyun, this is non-negotiable. I don’t want to ruin someone’s relationship.” You say, and Johnny walks in. you poured yours and Jaehyun’s shot glass clicking with his before downing it in one go. If Johnny felt the thick air between the two of you, he doesn’t comment on it.

 You choose to forget what happened when all of the guys started walking back inside. Started conversing with Johnny about this student in your department that got kicked out of the university because of some issues. You got your self a couple of drinks before standing up to head to the bathroom, but since it was your first time at Jaehyun’s house you ask him where it was, plus Lucas was incredibly taking his time in the bathroom so Jaehyun leads you to his room instead. “Just use mine, Lucas is taking forever.” He said. You nod and head for the bathroom in his room. His room was surprisingly clean and very much boyish in your opinion, the walls are painted blue, his bed covers are white and was neatly done, the cabinets are on the side while a bunch of basketball trophies is beside his computer.

 When you were done with his bathroom, you find him sitting at the end of his bed, browsing his phone while waiting for you. “I thought you already went down,” you said. Jaehyun looks up at you. “Can I look at your trophies?” you asked him and as he walks to you and standing beside you to look at his achievements during his High school days.

 “Wait, you went to Santa Clara?” you asked him. “So, you know, Jeon Jungkook?” you asked shocked at the information when he said as small “Yes. Why?”

 You shook your head and muttered nothing. “We went with some tune-up games in the past, but I know him, he and his group keep on hitting on our cheerleaders it was kind of funny.” He says to you and you laughed. “What’s new, but— wow, what a small world.” “Oh, that’s right he graduated from St. Vincent, right?” you turn your head at him and you see Jaehyun looking at you while waiting for your answer, you only nodded your head, not having the gusto to talk about Jeon Jungkook at the moment. You felt Jaehyun’s hands circling around your wrist, turning your body against him making you look up to him.

 You were completely drawn to him, from the way he pulls you closer by the waist, the way he lifts your head as he put his other hand to your face, he has you completely wrapped around his fingers. You felt his lips doing wonders to you and this time you let him kiss you. You find yourself wrapped around him for the second time. “Jaehyun—”

 “Hmm.” You felt him deepened the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hips to hips pressed together and you hated how right it felt. “We need to go down.” you tried to push him away but he won't budge. Jaehyun, slips his thumb just above the exposed skin on your hips, rubbing small circles that got you moaning “If you haven’t noticed, I’m actually crazy for you right now.” He says under his breath and you felt warm all over. Jaehyun has his brows furrowed, his expression as if he was hurting all over the place, and you laugh at him. “Fine, I’ll spend the night here.” You hear yourself saying and Jaehyun only pulled you closer for a hug.

 When the night ended, Jaehyun tells the guys that he’ll be the one to give you a ride and no one suspects it— agreeing to him and biding the two of you goodbye while the two of you cleaned up the living room. Moments after, you find yourself having second thoughts about staying the night with him. You know this will only lead to you on Jung Jaehyun’s bed. “Do you want to go home?” he asks you as if reading your mind, and you shook your head. “But can we go grab some late snacks? I’m kind of hungry.”

 The both of you drove to McDonald's and ordered some take-outs, Jaehyun drove to a good spot and parked his car, handing you your orders after putting on some good music— fit for the atmosphere. “Ohhh, this is actually good, huh.” You say while smiling at him. Jaehyun put your drinks in the cupholder between the both of you and handed you some tissues after. The warm feelings are back and you hate to admit that he gives you butterflies in your stomach.

 “I mean, this could be our thing, y/m.”

 You didn’t comment on that. Digging into your burger as a distraction to the strange sensation that you kept on feeling. You were quietly eating your food while having mixed feelings about him. you know this familiar feeling— you’re not stupid enough not to know your catching feelings and that you’re starting to fall in love again.

 When you finished up, you turn your body towards Jaehyun, deciding to confess, it’s better to be turned down than to keep on catching feelings for someone who isn’t going to return it at all. It’s not like you to be so brave, in the past, you always wait and that was the problem. You wait until the opportunity slides away from your fingers— from you. Deciding to risk everything this time, you braced yourself for the rejection.

 “Jaehyun.” You started and he turns his head towards you. “You know, I like you, right?” you continued. “You’re not stupid and you know there is something going on with the both of us.” Silence feels inside his car to the point it got so thick you can even cut it with a knife. “I may sound like a bitch but you have to choose between me and her.”

 “Remember when I told you on your birthday that my relationship with her is complicated?” you nodded your head. “I wasn’t lying about it. We’ve known each other for a while and it’s been eight months that time when I wanted to take our relationship to another level.” Hearing him talk about some other girl and the fact he wanted to make their relationship official hurts you in so many ways possible. You find yourself nodding at him as you ignore the lump in your throat. “But she won’t even admit that she likes me, not even one “Thank you” for all the effort I’ve given her, I understand that saying she loves me is a different level, it’s an understatement, but you know, I’m just someone who also needed affections. I don’t understand her for being so high maintenance.”

 “I actually talked with her personally this morning.” He continued. “Was that the reason why you’re absent?” you asked mad over the fact that he was absent for some uncalled reason. “Okay, let me finish before you get mad at me, baby.” You hate how endearing that sounded but you let him talk anyways. “I told her, I was done waiting and that I was sorry that I didn’t keep my promise.”

 “You actually courted her?” you asked and he nods. “Yeah, she is high maintenance and stupid.”

 “And you know what she replied? She says that she’ll say yes to me if that will make me stay or shut my trap, even, you know how the thought of actually agreeing to that one person to be together was gone just for the benefit of the doubt? She should have said yes from the beginning, I don’t have issues with waiting, I waited for almost a year, I know I can do it again, but not like this.” He moves his hands in the air just to set his point. “Was it my fault that I fell out of love?” He asks you and you turn your head away from him, guilty with the fact you are the reason he fell out of love with her. “Y/n, just give me time, I don’t even need that much.” He says and you nod your head.

 When both of you got back to Jaehyun’s flat, it was already midnight, Jaehyun handed you his white clean shirt and boxer shorts to change in to. Giving you some privacy that you needed while he brushes his teeth downstairs. So many things have been running through your mind for the past hour, Jaehyun didn’t turn you down but he didn’t say that he likes you back, either. So where do you stand in his life? You should have gone home; you didn’t want the same mistakes you did in the past to be repeated, but you were tired of waiting and beating around the bush.

 Confessing to Jung Jaehyun that you liked him first made you feel naked around him, having your feelings out in the open. When Jaehyun walked in you were still dazed, thousand of thoughts running through your mind. This wasn’t the first time that you’ve to spend the night with him having sleepovers at Johnny’s or the others but this was definitely your first time spending the night with him.

 It wasn’t an issue for you to sleep beside him since you already confessed, anyway. And in no time, you slip off to dreamland instantly, shocked at how comfortable you are with having his arms around you as you drifted off to dreamland.

 You stir in your sleep when you felt Jaehyun’s hands all over your upper body as he peppers your neck with wet kisses. you fight the sleepiness and look at his nightstand to see that it’s only been two hours when you drifted off to sleep. “Jae, It’s only three in the morning. Can’t you do this later?” you asked as you fight the sleep in your eyes. You felt Jaehyun’s hands hover around your left mound, squeezing it slightly and you look at him fully. “You agree on doing this later?” he asks out of breath.

 “You expect me to fall asleep when you’re on my bed in my clothes?” he whispered in your ear and you moan when his fingers slip in your undies— rubbing circles in your clit. “Already this wet?” Jaehyun continued his ministration on you, adding another finger inside you while he kisses you on the lips. You felt him retract his fingers away and you were about to protest when you felt him lift your shirt just below your chin, your mounds completely in view and ready to be played with. His hands went back on your thighs as he separated your left leg from the other, urging you to open your legs more. His fingers are back on your clit, drawing small circles that made you clenching on nothing. Jaehyun frowned when he felt your walls incredibly tight when he inserted two fingers at a time. “Baby, so fucking tight.”

 Jaehyun throws his shirt over his head and helped you undress, completely impatient, and you tried palming him just to get a reaction. You heard him grunt lowly, shocked at how big he is when Jaehyun got rid of all the clothing. “That won’t fit on me.”

 “Where’s your casual bravado at?” he asks as he pulls you to his lap. You look anywhere but him as your cheeks started to flush. “Don’t tell me— are you a virgin?” you nod your head at him as you felt his cock stood out more to the revelation. “Fuck, well take it slow, baby.” Jaehyun guided you to his lap as you ride him, moving your hips as you coat his dick with your juices. You have your bottom lip trap between your teeth as you let his dick slide in your pussy’s lips. Feeling embarrassed but desperate you tried to push yourself back to meet his hips as you whine with the newfound sensations. You look so lewd above him riding his cock as your tits bounce from your movements, your eyes start to water from the thrill Jaehyun gives you. “I need to hear you.” Jaehyun pushes the messy strands of hair that frames your face.

 You moan at the feeling of his veiny cock sliding in between your pussy’s lips. He hums, pleased with your sounds around him, and rewards you by inserting his fingers all the way inside you, the numbers doing wonders and stinging you a bit, but it still felt better than having to clench at nothing. Jaehyun marks you up all over your neck and just above your mounds, flesh to flesh as you moan for him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you as you ride his cock continuously. He gathers you in his arms and lays you on your back, pulling your thighs against your chest, keeping your legs spread as he pushes inside you slowly, grunting. “I wasn’t planning on putting it inside, but you just feel so fucking good.”

 You cried at the stretch, slowly tearing you apart as he moves inch by inch just to be inside you fully. When he’s all the way inside of you, his breath leaves him in a shaky sigh, and he takes a couple of moments for the both of you before he started moving. You know Jaehyun was holding back, as he focusses on your breast as they bounce up and down in a humiliating manner as he pushes into you slowly for his liking, while his hands keep your legs spread wide for him, you felt embarrassed and humiliated with the way you’re positioned under him, but you can’t help every moan that escapes you as it started to feel amazing more than a while ago. The sting you felt was gone and all you can think is the pleasure that he gives you.

 “Fuck, you’re tightening up.” You turn your head to the side, trying to bury your face in the pillows around you as you hide your face from him, but Jaehyun doesn’t allow it, he bends down— his upper body draped over you, his face mere inched from yours, the new positions has his right hand pulling your right leg further upwards, thigh pressing harder against your chest. “Say it, baby. I need to hear you.” His gaze pierces through you, ordering more than asking you to obey him, and you find him looking sexier as he looks even as his skin glistens and how some strands of his hair started to stick over his forehead.

 Docilely and submissive, you answered him. “I- I want to cum, please.” You sounded so lewd; you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. His gaze doesn’t free yours as his hips started to pick up the pace. “Do you know how hot you look right now? Spread out on my bed with nothing but my cock in you? fuck, fuck.” You started clenching around him as he put his thumb on your clit, drawing circles as you cry out his name in ecstasy.

 He fucks you through your orgasm, grunting as your walls get even tighter, making it harder for him to keep on moving inside of you but that made him ravish you more with fervor. Your orgasm feels like it will never end as he drags it out in order to reach his own high, finally, his hips stutter as he pulls out of you and pumps his dick more as he comes in your stomach and breasts.

 When he was done, he moves away from you and walks to the bathroom, you heard the faucet running and Jaehyun came out with a wet, warm towel in his hands and uses it to clean up the mess the two of you made. When he’s done, he tosses it to the side and scoops you in his arms, covering both of your naked bodies with his blanket that smells like him. He had you trap in his arms and sure it felt good to be treated like this, the feeling new to you.

 “Sleep, let’s not think about what happened for now.” He murmured and you agree. “I’m sorry.” You heard him say. You look up at him and see different emotions flickers in his eyes. “Honestly, I’ve seen this coming, I’m not usually like this but I always find myself fucking my rules just to be with you.” Jaehyun pulls you closer to him. “That’s because you liked me.” He told you before you drifted off to sleep for the second time.

 The next morning, Jaehyun give you a ride home, you— being awfully quiet after realizing everything that happened when you saw the bloodstains in his bedsheets that morning. You didn’t utter a word throughout the ride, reality downing to you one by one. Did you just sleep with a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend in the first place? When you got in the comforts of your home you smack your head for the stupidity. You knew how boys can be, and you just give Jaehyun the chance to have his way with you easily without a fight.

 When a day passed by without seeing even a shadow of Jaehyun, you sent him a message asking what was he doing. You waited for hours but you didn’t get a reply from him that day. You’ve been overthinking things and didn’t have the energy to be productive at all, you tried calling him but he wasn’t answering at all. The next day came and you checked your phone for any notification from him but there was none, you were about to get up when you heard a car honking in front of your house— you walk towards your window and there, you saw Jung Jaehyun, standing beside his car in your front yard, smiling up at you with his hands tucked inside his jean’s pockets. You ignore the raging butterflies in your stomach and hide the blush creeping in your cheeks with your hair as you give him a bashful smile in return.

 When you came down after washing up and getting ready for school, you kissed your mom goodbye saying you’re skipping breakfast and will just eat out in the café next to the University. You run to Jaehyun, his arms open and ready to catch you in his arms— and you embrace him. “Haven’t heard from you yesterday.” You push your self a little away from him to see a smile playing at his lips. “I miss you too.” He answered and for some reason, cat got your tongue.

 “It’s still early, do you want to eat out?” Jaehyun asked you when you both settle down inside his car and you nod your head after checking your wristwatch, you still have two hours to kill before your classes start, it’s Tuesday, so the both of you are packed up with your chef’s uniforms in your bags.

 “I hate cooking.” You tell no one in particular as Jaehyun started to drive away, “But you’re the top in our department.” you only give him a glance as you relax your body.

 When you arrived at the café next to your University, it was still spacious as it was still early, most of the time students would fill the room up, studying or just talking with their peers. You both settle down on the booth next to the window— Jaehyun, ever the gentlemen ordering and buying you your food. “Jaehyun, I really appreciate you spending your money on me, but next time let me pay for my own food.” You say when he came back with a tray of pastries and coffees in his hands. “Why?” he asked.

 “Because it’s your money, and we’re still students you know, we shouldn’t spend recklessly.” Jaehyun was bewildered by what you said and it was clearly written on his face. “Why?” you asked scared that you might say something wrong. “It’s just that, I was used to spending money for her even if I get to eat nothing as long as she gets hers.” He says. You felt horrified after hearing that. “No way, if you ran out of money, you say it and I’m going to pay for us, all right?”

“You sure you haven’t been in relationships?” there was a bashful smile playing at Jaehyun’s face, “No, it’s called basic manners, Jung Jaehyun.” You laughed at him. “So, I haven’t heard from you at all yesterday.” You watched as Jaehyun sipped at his iced americano— nodding at you as if you’ve stated the obvious.

“I ended everything with her, what she said doesn’t really sit on me right. I didn’t take her to be that hypocrite in the first place.” Jaehyun started. So, he was with her last night, you think, but not in the way that you think, he meets with her to cut and finish everything between them. “I just hate that every time we fought, she would always turn the tables around, guilt tripping me so I can admit that I’m wrong when she also has her mistakes in the first place. Don’t think that this happened because of you, it started happening before you even came, I don’t want you to beat yourself thinking that you ruined my relationship with her, because in the first place there’s no relationship between us.” You nod your head and all you can do is listen.

“Do you regret everything that has been happening?” you asked as you hear your heart beating rapidly inside your chest, you look at him and he did the same. “No. You happened unexpectedly, but no, I don’t regret you.” you fought the tears away, feeling the warmth and comfort inside, this has never happened to you, someone choosing you over anything, and you can’t help but tear up.

“Why are you crying? It’s not me who’s choosing you but you’re the one who is choosing me. If you haven’t noticed a lot of guys wants to be with you, so I’m really grateful that you liked me instead.” Jaehyun wiped the tears that threatening to fall down your check and pulling you close in his arms after. You put your head in his arms, everything feels surreal and if ever you are dreaming you don’t want to wake up anymore. “I really like you,Y/n.” you look up to him laughing as you cry harder, all this baggage and walls gone because of one person.  

That was the start of your relationship with Jung Jaehyun, all those crazy days and nights with him, long drives and Friday nights, eating and pigging out with him, he knows you more than the back of his hands, he knows that you get moody every month, he knew about your introverted ass, he knows that you can be basic and simple at times— you don’t expect too much of him and he does the same with you, on your first year of being together, you introduced Jaehyun to your whole family on your reunion day and they instantly love him— specially your brother and cousins. They enjoyed talking to him, and you’re honestly surprised at how welcoming you parents are to him, asking him to sleep over, Jaehyun and your brother having the same interest, playing computer games until the sun rises, His mother sending a box full of apples to your mother because he mentions that it’s your mom’s favorite.

Sometimes you get scared of breaking up with him, fighting isn’t something that the both of you can avoid, there are times the you just want to strangle him to death, but that makes everything real, being jealous and having make up sex, all those time the both of you fight for something trivial, those moments make your relationship stronger. And now you’ve been with him for the past 4 years, going steady and strong.  

“Babe, you ready?” you both settle down on his car, you just finish your final exams for this week, you and Jaehyun are up for a 2 hour long drive to get to your vacation house, most of your family are already there since this morning and the both of you have to finish your exams and classes first before joining them, you nod your head at him as he pull his jacket over his head and handing it you. Jaehyun knows that you get easily cold but you don’t want to turn the heater up and make him suffer as he tends to sweat a lot, that leads you to having his hoodies stack up in your closet.

“You have to cut your smoking off you know it’s not good for your health.” You say as you saw him scratch the back of his neck, a freshly lit stick in his mouth, when the both of you started going out you have seen him smoke a couple of times to the point that it got you curious and tried it, you have been smoking in the past but you cut it off as it was unhealthy. Jaehyun on the other hand finds it hard. “old habits die hard.” He told you once.

“You got to compromise, baby.” Jaehyun blew the smoke outside— his window rolled down and one hand on the stirring wheel, you got to admit though, your boyfriend looked hot. “Fine, what do you suggest?”

“Marry me after we graduate.” Your head snap back to look at him, as you waited for him to laugh and say that he was joking. Jaehyun throw the cigar outside reaching for the rubbing alcohol to clean his hands, you tend to hate the smell that clings to his hands whenever he smokes. You were awfully quiet, shocked at what he said, and you found yourself caught in your thoughts.

“If you promise to be with me forever, until the day that our hair turns white, then I promise to cut my smoking off.” He smiled at you, reaching for your hands that was placed in your lap as he pulls it closer to his mouth to give it some kisses. You can’t really say anything as tears started to fall one by one, you we’re just so happy that he thinks of being together with you for that long. “I know I’ve done so many things that disappoints you, but you still choose to be with me, and for that, I’m really grateful. So, I’m asking you this right now, I know we still have to graduate and we still have a long way ahead of us. And I would still have to buy you the most beautiful ring in the world. What I can give you right know is my hopeful words— promising you that I would be faithful and love you until the end, so are you going to say yes?” he asks while holding your hand.

“Yes.” the both of you laughed at the situation as you reach out to kiss him in the cheeks. “Babe! Stay seated or will get into an accident” he shouts but laughs with you.

You definitely don’t regret falling in love with Jung Jaehyun.

  Fin

[donutloverxo]

First time

Kinktober day 15 - Virginity kink

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - So anon asked for step dad Steve and I can't do that to Steve. This started out as step dad ransom but then me being me couldn't go through with it🤦‍♀️ so he's supposed to be your stepmoms husband which still makes him your step dad, I think.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - 18+ONLY! smut(m/f), dub conish, painful sex, unprotected sex, implied age gap, loss of virginity, bloodplay.

Pairing - Step dad!Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

“Oh! Don’t act like you care. I can tell you wouldn’t give a shit if I left for an entire year. I’m not one of your barely legal bimbos you can manipulate however you like,” Karen ranted on and on to Ransom. You didn’t know what they were fighting about today - you didn’t care to find out either.

“God! Would you fucking give me a break? All you do is yap your trap all day long,” he snapped at her.

You looked at the main door, to leave your house you would have to go through the hallway where both of them were having their ‘lively' discussion, which you had no intentions to be a part of.

Karen gave him a deadly glare - which literally gave you chills even though you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

She walked closer to him, until she was only inches away from his face, “For your own good,” wrapping her palm around his chiselled jaw “don’t forget your place. You do not curse at me or yell at me.”

He didn’t say anything back, simply holding her unwavering glare.

She looked at the stairs, her face instantly lighting up into a faux smile upon seeing you. “Darling, what are you doing there? Come here,” she said extending an arm to you. You walked down to her, she engulfed you into a hug, soothing a hand over your head, “Mommy has to go away for a while, to Paris for fashion week. I know that’s not something you’d be interested in.”

You shook your head. No, those events were a bit too stuffy for you. You dared to sneak a glance at Ransom, he was fuming. His jaw clenched hard, his face and neck flushed as he heaved. You weren’t sure if that rage was directed towards you or your stepmother.

“Fuck this shit,” he spit before leaving and slamming the door behind him. You cringed at the loud noise it made. You were relieved that he was gone, given what he had done in his impulsivity and rage, you didn’t want to be around him when he was that angry.

“Well?” Karen’s question snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You better not be going to meet that Jack or John or whatever.”

“His names Jeremy, Karen, and I really like him. If you got to know him - ”

“I don’t need to know him. He does not bring anything to the table. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe in the same air as you.”

“A rich guy can treat me badly too. I don’t know why you think I can’t be happy with a normal person.” you shook your head. She of all people should not be questioning your taste in men.

“His fathers a fucking high school teacher, honey,” she scoffed. “No, I won’t have you dating a nobody.”

“Well, Ransoms a friggin' murderer!” you screamed. “What kind of man conspires to kill his own grandfather?!”

She had married him just months after he was declared 'not guilty' of not one, but TWO murders. Although, everyone knew that he definitely did it.

You begged her not to marry him. But she seemed to be completely smitten with him, besides she had never really valued your opinion or seen you as an adult.

“Say what you will about Ransom. But he has the name - he’s a Thrombey, he comes from old money. As annoying as he can be - he’s not hideous to look at either, I suppose.”

That was the only thing you might be inclined to agree with. You hated that some part of you was attracted to him. Even though, he was a terrible person. He treated ‘the help', the people who raised you and cared for you as if they were beneath him.

He treated Karen like shit - which she may deserve, you knew of her affairs and the one French boyfriend she was visiting under the guise of business.

He was however, completely indifferent to you. He never got in your way, sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, following every move you made. Sometimes you wondered... if maybe... some part of him found you attractive as well.

You knew you weren’t much to look at, especially compared to your stepmother, but then why else would he be staring so much?

Was he plotting to OFF you as well? To get you out of his way. You’d be inheriting most of your late fathers estate.

***

You closed the door behind you, as quietly as you could so as not to wake anyone. You got home a little later than midnight. You weren’t used to staying out that long but it was one of your best friends birthday.

“What were you doing out so late?” You yelped as you heard his voice.

“Ransom! Oh my gosh, you scared me,” you tried to catch your breathe.

“It’s after twelve. Who were you out with?” he raised a brow. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“Huh?” you looked down at your bodycon dress. You weren’t used to wearing clothes that tight but this one just seemed so pretty and perfect to capture Jeremy’s attention. “It’s Karen’s design,” you shrugged. It was provocative but classy and respectable which was your stepmothers brand.

“What kind of message do you think you’re sending dressing like that? If you want to be the talk of the town - ”

“Ransom, oh my god! It’s just a dress and I’m - I’m a virgin!” you confessed. It wasn’t something you were ashamed of - why would you be?

“What?” his eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

He had known you were a pretty little thing since the moment he met you. So shy and demure and pure. Of course you’d be a virgin. Like a perfect present waiting to be unwrapped.

You almost smiled at that. Stunning Ransom like that made you feel smug for some reason. “Yeah. I’m saving myself for the right guy.” you replied in a small voice, averting his gaze and looking at the carpet.

He took two long strides and walked over to you, before you knew it he had a firm grasp on your waist, pulling you against his hard chest. “And what’s the right guy like, sweetheart?”

“Someone - uh,” your brain blanked, having him that close to you, feeling his warm breath on your face almost made you black out.

He bent his neck till he was closer to your ear, “Well, don’t lose it to Jeremy or whatever. He won’t even know what to do with a sweet thing like you.”

You gasped, trying to push him away but his stance was unrelenting. “That is so inappropriate, Ransom! You’re married!”

He grabbed at your failing wrists, pinning them behind your back, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. Karen and I have an arrangement. You ever been kissed before?” he asked, his tongue peaking out to kick his plump lips.

“Wh - ” you swallowed a heavy lump of air, looking away from him, “No,” tears streaming down your face.

He chuckled, licking a firm stripe up your cheek, moaning at the taste of your tears. “We’ll fix that tonight, princess.”

You shuddered in his hold, it finally hit you. He intended to have his way with you. “Karen!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“She’s not home, sweetheart,” he smirked, pushing his knee between your legs, “I thought you wanted this? I heard you saying my name while touching yourself. I’ll do better than your little fingers ever could,” he grinded his knee against your core.

You whimpered, scared out of your mind for your life and ashamed. Ashamed of being caught, of being aroused and getting more and more wetter. Your hips rolling against his knee to seek more friction.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth till it hurt and then releasing it with a pop. “If you keep being good and take what I give you - I’ll make you feel good too.” He held on to your forearm, dragging you up the stairs towards his room.

“No, no... not in your room. In mine, please,” you whimpered, his nails digging in the flesh of your arm. They might have an 'arrangement' but you doubted Karen would appreciate you doing the deed in her bed.

“Fine with me,” he dragged you along, locking your door behind him as he pushed you down on your mattress.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, quickly discarding all his clothes. You couldn’t help but shamelessly ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and abs. He was bigger than any boy you knew. Your jaw dropped at the size of his cock, slapping against his abdomen when he pulled down his boxers.

“Like what you see, princess?” he smirked.

Hovering over you, his hands tearing your dress apart, you feebly tried to stop him, “That was expensive, Ransom!”

“I can just buy you another one,” he winked, rolling your panties down your legs.

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, with my own money.

Your arms flew up to your naked chest and mound, to cover up and save your modesty.

He growled, pulling them away and pressing them on the mattress above you. “These better fucking stay here all night, understood?”

You were too afraid to do anything but nod.

“Never popped anyone’s cherry before... this should be interesting,” he snaked a hand between your bodies, pinching your clit causing you to jerk away from him.

He didn't bother fingering you or preparing you, he knew you'd be tighter without it - he had about enough of foreplay anyway.

“Please, be gentle,” you requested, looking up at him through your doe eyes, pleading him - you had never felt so utterly helpless.

He cruelly laughed at your misery, his lips curled up in a devilish smirk, “I don't do gentle, kitten. You'll take what I fucking give you - ” he growled positioning himself between your legs, brushing his leaking tip over your chaste, untouched folds “and then thank me for it. Like the slut you are.”

You couldn't even begin to grasp or point out the logical fallacy of a virgin slut as his cock plunged into your heat, piercing through your virginity, splitting you in half.

Your back arched off the bed, you slapped your hands over your mouth to keep from screaming. It was painful, that was all you felt - pain. As he held onto your waist, his fingers digging in your flesh, his hips pulling out and then driving into you with an unrelenting pace.

You could not stop crying, or twisting your head from side to side. Knowing it was all you could do - he wouldn’t stop - no matter how much you pleaded. You weren’t sure you wanted him to stop.

He pressed a few kisses and nips to the crook of your neck, sucking on a spot as you held back a moan.

He propped himself up on his elbows to look down at you, your eyes and nose swollen, your make up running down your face - you looked more beautiful than you ever had before.

“You look so pretty when you cry, kitten,” he cooed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

He kept driving his cock into you, searching for that special spot as you kept mewling under him.

His heart swelled with pride, nobody’s ever fucked you before, he’s the first man that’s ever seen you naked or to be inside you.

“Do you want me to stop?” he stilled his hips, “Just say the word then.” He knew you wouldn’t.

You sniffled, shaking your head, “No, keep going, please.”

His lips curled up in a grin, taking some kind of twisted pleasure in your misery, “You’re something else, kitten.”

“Oh,” you closed your eyes, your toes curling, your legs holding onto his waist as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you.

Ransom leaned over you when he felt your heat convulsing around him, pulling your earlobe between his teeth, “This is the tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked,” he grunted, driving each word home with a powerful thrust. “You like that, kitten?”

All you could do was nod, the pain was well as much more subdued now but you were still sore and exhausted. “Yes, I like it.”

“We’re going to do this every night from now on.”

He pulled out fisting his cock over you - he wasn’t going to impregnate his newest plaything - his white, hot spend painting your stomach and titts.

Your fingers swirled the sticky substance around on your skin, you were curious to see what it tasted like. You clenched your legs shut, your pussy still tingly. This was not how you planned your first time to go but you had no regrets.

You knew you were absolutely wrong to think so but being desired by Ransom gave you a strange kind of pride.

You gasped when you heard a click, sitting up on your elbows you looked at Ransom clicking pictures of your pussy with his phone.

“Wh - what’re you doing?” you tried to close your legs but he kept a firm hand on your knee.

“Just need a souvenir,” he responded, taking some more of his cum on your body and then putting his phone in his pocket. He swirled a finger around the blood on your inner thigh, bringing it up to paint the crimson on your mouth, “Go clean yourself up. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

You smiled as he kissed you, “Okay, Ransom.”

Even with your pussy freshly fucked - you couldn’t wait for his next visit.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

[letterstoseven]

Killer Queen [ch. 5]

✏︎ pairing: klaus mikaelson x reader, elijah mikaelson x reader, kol mikaelson x reader

✏︎ summary: y/n Silvius –– daughter of the Alpha of the most respected and powerful pack of the first were-witches (werewolf + witch). She needs to find the remaining Crescent Wolf Pack members as the Elders are planning to reunite the seven packs, namely: Crescent Wolf Pack, Northern Wolves Pack, Moon Shine Pack, River Pack, Lycan Blood Pack, Midnight Stone Pack and the Malraux Pack. On her journey, she met the family whom the witches and werewolves warned her about, The Mikaelson Family.

✏︎ Chapters: one, two, three, four, five

It was early morning the next day when Hayley saw your messaged and called the attention of Elijah. "Elijah, I hope Marcel won't do any harm to her. I know she can protect herself but, she doesn't even know what to expect. I should've told her more about vampire stuff." Elijah called you, but to no avail, he received no response from you. Elijah then called Klaus, "Brother, I believe our new friend is in trouble. Marcel asked her to meet at Rosseau's."

"Oh, Elijah. Please, she can save herself. A vampire like Marcel is nothing compared to a hybrid like her." Klaus knows that a powerful witch like you will not let anything happen to herself. "Maybe you can call Rebekah if you want to deal with Marcel." Rebekah overheard this conversation, "Before you call me, the little witch is a bloody genius person. By the looks of it, it'll be Marcel who digged his own grave." Elijah and Hayley looked at each other and sighed. Elijah told Hayley, "I guess we'll just have to wait for her call then."

You found Marcel at the corner of Rosseau's. "So, what is it that you want from me?" Marcel smirked, "Feisty and straight-forward, I like it." You raised your eyebrows, "Just tell me why do you want to see me." Marcel gave you something to drink and eat, but you did not bother to move it. "Thanks, but no thanks. You threatened me the moment I got here, and you expect me to just accept this?" You pushed the food in front of you and he said, "Look, (y/n). I'm just here to be make friends with you. You're interesting." You looked at him, "Why would I want to make friends with you?" Marcel poured you a drink, "Because you are dealing with the Mikaelsons. You need someone who knows them in case things don't go well." You then told him, "Marcel, I know who I'm dealing with. And trust me, the Mikaelsons are not the reason why I'm here. Maybe there's more than just them. You know, like the thing called life and moving on." Marcel then told you how he became a vampire and his life with the Mikaelsons and how he thought of Klaus as his father. "So, (y/n), I'm just telling you to be careful." You smiled at Marcel and said, "Thank you for telling me all of this. I may lack on experience and knowledge outside my pack, but I do know that all of us are not that innocent. We've got bloods in our hands that we're responsible for." You stood up and left him. You checked your phone and you saw the text messages from Elijah and Hayley. You messaged them letting them know that you're fine.

While you were on your way back, Klaus appeared in front of you and said, "Well, done, little witch. You proved yourself that you can be trusted." You sighed, "You were there? Ugh, vampires are so annoying." Klaus smirked and said, "Oh, no love. I just happened to pass by Rosseau's and heard you two. You know, vampires got this thing called heightened senses." Amused, you said, "Oh that's nice. We don't have that. So... where's the moon stone?" You stopped on your tracks and faced Klaus. "It's not that easy to get, little witch. It's like you're telling me to kill all these vampires." You got your phone and typed Marcel's number, "It seems that I'll get the moonstone on my own since the mighty Original hybrid can't do it." Klaus snatched your phone feeling slightly offended and happy, "How dare you say that to me? Are you challenging me?" You snatched back your phone and said, "I dare you, Klaus. Give me the moonstone by the end of the week. Or else, rumor has it that the Original hybrid lost its touch." You left him and texted Hayley that you're going back to the compound to talk what happened with Marcel.

However, when you were about to enter the compound, you saw Hayley tending to some guy. You called the attention of Elijah, "Elijah! Who's that? What happened here?" Elijah looked at you and said, "The Guerrera pack. We thought that they were humans but little did we know that they are your kind. Werewolves. They wanted Hayley and Klaus' child. Rebekah and I were on our way to attend to some business when Hayley called me that the Guerrera pack and the witches are conniving against us and that they're attacking her. But this young man, who happens to know you, rushed to help Hayley."

You walked towards the man and you were shocked and scared, "Aiden?! Aiden!!! What happened to you?! Where's your protection charm?!" Aiden held your hand and said, "I used it against the Lycan Blood Pack. They attacked me, they didn't want my help, our help at all!" You can't think straight as this is the first time you saw Aiden defeated like this. A woman, who happens to look like, approached Aiden and casted some healing spell. "Who are you?", you said. The woman said to you, "Consider this as a thank you gift for saving my niece. I'm Freya. The witch of the family. Before you ask, no, I'm not a vampire." You thanked her and asked Aiden and Hayley what happened here.

"The Guerrera pack happened. Apparently they are wolves who happen to hide the curse for so long. They recently triggered the curse because they were working with some witches to help them become more powerful than the vampires. Sophie called me beforehand that the witches are plotting against us again because they think that this baby is an abomination to this world. And that's when the Guerrera pack and the witches agreed upon." Hayley was shaking. Hayley's a strong woman but you can see that she's scared for her baby. You now faced Aiden, "And you? Why are you here? It's just been what, a week since we started this, explain." You help Aiden change his shirt, for you it's nothing since you've been friends since you were kids but the people around you found it awkward. "I concede, (y/n). The moment I got there, they instantly knew what I was going to say. They rejected my offer. They told me that they already have what we have. That we've got nothing to offer. They won't bow to me as their Alpha. So, I tried another way. I challenged the Alpha." You face-palmed yourself and said to him, "How can you be so... dumb?!" Many things are now running inside your head. "Now that you conceded, I have to finish two tasks. Good, great! I mean, it’s for the seven packs. Oh, god."

Aiden is apologetic to you, "I'll help you. I am strong but I don't think I am fit to be an Alpha, (y/n). I told my parents about my decision. I'm sure your parents are going to call you soon. I'll stay here with you." Next thing you know, Aiden is kneeling in front of you and he let his blood from his hands leak on the floor. He casted a spell on conceeding the competition and giving the task to you. This is also a proof of his loyalty to you. The Mikaelsons and Hayley saw this situation and they were amazed by the fact that they just witnessed someone conceeding the Alpha-candidate status. Hayley, as part of the Crescent Wolf Pack, also kneeled in front of you. You were panicking, Klaus and Elijah saw it right through you. "Oh, god. No, no, no. Both of you stand up. This is insane. Thank you though. Everything's happening so fast. I need a good run to clear my head. Aiden, we're not yet done."

[clouditae]

First Love | 13

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing

Word: 3.3k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

“So you and Hanbin?” 

You jump and blurt out, “What?” You turn around to face the source of the voice only to meet gazes with Yoongi. 

“You. Hanbin. You’re a couple now?” he says in a nonchalant tone as he looks at you with a lazy gaze. 

You can feel the heat on your cheeks and stomach flutter at his name. “No,” you answer. “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” He walks past you and up to his door. “From what I saw, that kiss wasn’t “just friends” for him.” He leans against his dorm door, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got someone already?” The way he says the last word irks you. It’s like he’s mocking you—or something else but he just irritates you.

“Why does it matter?” you ask, walking past him to stand next to your door. “Plus, how do you know about the kiss?”

“Well for starters you always tell me you’re not brave enough to do anything. Turns out you’re either lying or you’re really good at getting someone like him to fall for you. And I know about the kiss because you were extremely loud.” 

“Well I apologize for the noise and you should be proud that I don’t need you anymore if I can get someone like him—whatever that means,” you state matter of factly.

He stares at you with that stupid blank stare you’re beginning to hate so much. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll see how long that lasts before you end up in the bedroom with him.” He puts his key in the hole and turns the door knob. 

He enters his room, letting the door close behind him but you’re faster. Slamming your hand on his door and pushing it open. You ignore the stinging feeling on your hand as you say in an outraged tone, “I am sick and tired of you belittling me. Ever since we started this whole thing, you've only judged and acted rude towards me. I’m sorry for what happened to you, but you do not need to push your anger towards her onto me. I am not your distraction and I am not the reason you’re so angry.” You release the door and make your way towards your room. You hear the sound of his door closing as you open yours and enter your room. 

Ari is staring at you wide-eyed as the door closes behind you. “What?” you ask, tossing your backpack on your bed. 

A smile slowly grew on her lips. “Did you just tell him off?”

“Tell him off? I didn’t tell him off.” 

Ari laughs, “You so did! You were mad and you let him have it with how he was towards you.”

Your eyes widened a bit. “You heard me?” You plop on your chair. “Was I that loud?”

Ari shakes her head. “You weren’t loud, but I could hear you a bit. I didn’t hear everything, but just enough to know you set him straight.” 

You shrug, grabbing your backpack that is luckily close to the edge of your bed. “He was rude to me, and I guess I finally snapped.” 

“I can’t believe you brought Sam up in the conversation,” Ari states in awestruck. “You go girl.” 

You can’t help but sink in your chair a bit. “I can’t believe I said that when he doesn’t even know I know about her.” 

Your roommate laughs again, “Fuck that, and fuck him. He treats you like shit, you make him feel like shit. That’s that, Y/N. No guilt.” 

You let out the air you were holding. “No guilt,” you say more to yourself than to her.

“That’s my girl,” she says in a cheer like tone. “No guilt just dick.”

You turn towards her. “What?”

It’s her turn to shrug as she answers, “I don’t know. I heard some girl say it at a party once. It doesn’t make sense, but it kind of does if you’re trying to get laid? You’re not trying to get laid right now.” She shakes her head. “Just ignore the whole thing.” You can’t help but smile as you open your backpack and pull out your items to begin your homework. 

You’re about two hours in of doing your homework, Ari giving up twenty minutes after starting, when your phone dings, the screen lights up and shows the small message icon. Putting your pencil down, you pick up your phone and unlock the screen, clicking on the message. 

[3:17 pm] Hanbin: Hey Y/N. Are you free later tonight?

You feel your heart’s beat pick up as you reply.

[3:18 pm] Me: Hey. I’m free later. What’s up?

Locking your phone, you put it down to distract yourself from your mind going crazy, but it seems Hanbin is a quick texter as your phone dings once again. 

[3:18 pm] Hanbin: Would you like to meet up and have dinner together? We could eat at the dining hall if you prefer.

Maybe it's because she's your best friend, or maybe it's because you let out the biggest gasp—it's probably the gasp, but Ari asks, "What happened?" You turn to her with the widest eyes you think you can ever have. No words are forming, so you can only stick your phone out to her. She gets up from her chair and takes your phone, reading the message. Her eyes grow big, a shocked smile growing as she says animatedly, "You better go."

"I can't," you blurt, taking your phone back.

"You can, Y/N. If you like him, and he's asking you to hang out with him, take advantage of this! Who knows! Maybe he'll like you back and the two of you will go out and act like a cute couple. The jock and the shy girl. It's your typical teen movie!" She sounds so excited, as if she’s telling her favorite book to you.

"What makes you think he's a jock? You and I technically barely know him."

"He looks like he works out. He could play baseball? He hits those home runs like he can hit your home run right after—"

"Ari," you groan, covering your ears, no longer wanting to hear her perverted comments.

She cackles, "Okay, okay. I'm done." It's quiet between the two of you as you remove your hands from over your ears. "But I do think you should go. You never know what could happen. It could turn into something more, but it could also turn into a friendship."

You let out a long sigh. "Okay," you mumble, replying with shaky hands.

[3:23 pm] Me: Sure! If you want to come here and eat, or we can meet at the food court on campus.

[3:23 pm] Hanbin: Great! I'll meet you on campus if you don't mind

"What did he say?" Ari asks, no longer by her bed but looming over your shoulder to try and read your texts.

"He wants to meet at the food court," you answer, thumbs hovering over the keys with no way of replying coming to mind.

"Tell him you'll meet him there! Pick a time and we'll dress you cutely," Ari chimes, voice in a sing-song tone. You can only ignore her happy toned comment as you reply to his text.

[3:24 pm] Me: I don't mind

[3:25 pm] Hanbin: See you at 5? :)

Your heart races.

[3:25 pm] Me: See you at 5 :)

Ari squeals, "My Y/N is going on a date!" Grabbing your arm she pulls you to your feet. "You have almost an hour to get ready, so we need to work."

You turn to her. "Why do you make it sound like it's going to be a mission to make me look nice?" you ask in an offensive tone.

She lightly smacks your arm. "You know what I mean. We have less than an hour to make you more cuter than you already are. I feel like Hanbin is into cute girls while Yoongi is into hot girls, so cute is going to be so much easier because you're already cute. We just have to find the perfect outfit and apply some light make-up. Maybe put your hair up in a bun?" she rambles, opening her closet to look through her endless line of clothes.

"I don't want to look like I'm actually trying," you announce, watching her as she pulls out a light pink tank top and holding it out towards you to see how it would look.

"This is cute. Take it." Grabbing the top from her, Ari goes back to her closet and digs through it once more. "You won't look like you're trying. I'm going to dress you like you were in school a few hours ago. Cute outfit, light to no make-up, and hair in a messy bun." Ari brings out an olive colored cardigan. "Put this on and keep the jeans you're wearing."

You roll your eyes, take the clothing article and walk to the bathroom. After a quick top change, you come out to see her setting up her make-up station. "Sit, sit." For the remaining short time that you have, Ari works effortlessly to do your make-up perfectly and get your messy bun to look obviously messy but cute. By the time she is done, you have ten minutes to make it to the shuttle stop before it takes off and you have to wait another thirty minutes. She looks at you with such satisfaction. “You are so freaking cute, Y/N. If no guy dates you, I will.” 

You chuckle. “Thanks Ari.” 

Grabbing your wallet and bag from Ari, she grabs you by your shoulders to spin you around towards the door. She pushes you as she rushes, "Now go eat and have fun, and call me if something is fishy! I'll get there in a blink of an eye and beat the shit out of everyone that hurts you." She opens the door and pushes you out, pushing the door close before you can say anything. You can only sigh. How long will it take before Ari realizes your phone and keys are still on your desk. The door opens, Ari shoving your keys and phone at you. "Love you!" she says as you take your belongings.

The door closes leaving you alone. "Love you, too," you mutter, putting your wallet and keys in your bag. Doing a quick dig you luckily found earphones. You do a small cheer and put in your earphones, connecting it to your phone as you begin your walk towards the stop. You mouth the words to the song as you leave the building, make your way down the stairs and once again follow a group of people across the parking lot and towards the shuttle and bus stop.

You enter the shuttle seconds before the driver closes the doors and takes off towards the campus. You take a seat by the window and watch the scenery go by at a somewhat fast pace. Your favorite song comes on. It’s a somewhat romantic song and you can't help but wonder if this is a sign. A sign for you to move on and let your feelings grow for Hanbin?

You shake your head. You don't know if he has feelings for you. He kissed your forehead—it's not like he kissed your lips or cheek. Plus he was drunk so he probably doesn't remember it or if he just did it out of a friendly manner. Maybe he kisses all his friends who are girls like that. Maybe all his friends.

The campus comes into view as the shuttle drives past the main entrance to enter through the side where the driver will stop at the first stop. A few get off as a few enter the shuttle. After a few seconds of waiting for the cars to drive by, the shuttle continues its route. As the second stop begins to appear, the vehicle slows down, coming to a stop behind a bus. You grab your bag and follow one other student off the shuttle, thanking the driver as you step off the last step.

A few people run past you to make it to the bus that looks like it’s about to leave. You hope they make it as you make your way towards the main food court. As you begin to pass the student union building, you wonder if he meant the food court next to the bar and grill, or the food court that’s on the floor in the building you are now passing. Turning the corner that will lead you towards the escalators to the higher level of the campus you meet eyes with Hanbin, who’s exiting the same building you’re walking by.

He smiles. "Hey," he says, slipping his backpack on.

Taking in a quiet, shaky breath, you say, "Hi."

He walks alongside you as the two of you make your way towards the escalators. "I wasn't sure if we were meeting at this food court or the one by the bar," he laughs.

You smile, relieved he feels the same way you felt just moments ago. "Yeah. I wasn't sure either, so I thought the main one would be where you would be."

"Me too. I was on the first floor watching people bowling and I spent a good five minutes deciding if I should just go to the second floor or meet you at the one up here." He points to the building at the top of the escalator. "Guess I chose correctly."

You giggle, "I guess I chose correctly, too."

As the two of you step onto the escalator, letting it take you to the top, Hanbin asks, "What are you in the mood for?"

Crap. He put you on the spot. Now you actually have to think about what you want. You don't know—you didn't have time to think about it. You were so worried about meeting up with him and the whole kiss thing that you totally forgot about what it is that you two are going to eat. What do you say? Greek? Chinese? Japanese? A burrito? A burger? What. Do. You. Say? "I'm not sure yet," you blurt. Close enough.

"Shall we flip a coin?" he questions, fishing out from his pocket a coin. You nod. "Heads are whatever is up here, and tails is whatever is on the second floor." You nod again, watching as he gets the coin into position and tosses it into the air. The two of you watch the coin flip over and over again before landing back in his hand as he does one more flip and reveals the result on the back of his hand. "Tails it is." He gestures to the escalator behind you. "Guess we should go back down."

You smile turning around and following the line to the escalator and going down. "So what are you in the mood for down there?" you ask him, hoping he'll take the bait and pick rather than ask you again because you still do not know.

Hanbin taps his chin in thought. "They have a sub shop as well as Mexican I think?" He seems to have a eureka moment as he snaps his fingers. "There's a pizza shop outside the main entrance. Are you in the mood for pizza?"

Ah. Sbarro. "Yeah. Pizza sounds great."

"Okay, we'll just go through the court and head outside," he informs, taking the lead and entering the student union building. You follow in suit, walking inside and following him past all the tables and chairs that are taken up by students eating and chatting. You enter the lobby of the building where in the center of the room is the student information center. Walking out the front entrance door, you see it’s a bit similar to the outdoor seating by the food court. Along both walls are different stores. Hair parlor, a bank, and so much more along with the pizza shop to your left. Running along the shops are tables and chairs for students.

Walking towards the shop and entering the small building, you place your orders, arguing with Hanbin for a minute about paying, but he pays and the two of you wait at a small table. "Uh," Hanbin begins, adjusting in his seat across from you, "The reason I asked to meet you is because I wanted to talk about that kiss."

You swallow. "Okay."

He looks at you guiltily. Oh boy. What is he going to say? There are so many ideas that are running through your mind, but you don't want to listen to it. You don't want to let that get to you any longer. That fear of maybe it isn’t meant to be. Hanbin interrupts your thoughts, "I wanted to apologize for kissing you. I know it was sudden and I should not have done that—especially drunk, but..." he trails off, looking away. Scratching the back of his head, he mumbles, "I have a crush on you, and in the heat of a drunk moment, I kissed you. However, that doesn't excuse my actions."

You’re frozen in shock. Did you hear that correctly? No... Right? "What did you say?" you ask, voice just above a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

You shake your head. "No, after that. The... uh."

Hanbin seems to catch on. The color on his cheeks change to a pinkish color. "I"—he clears his throat—"I have a crush on you."

"When?"

"When?" he repeats and you nod. "I guess since we met at the party. You were kind and pretty, and drunk you were even cuter." You're totally hallucinating. Right? "I just wanted to meet to apologize. I'm not looking for you to like me back or anything—plus we just met. I barely know you really," he rambles, and continues to ramble that you’re not even listening anymore.

Take advantage.

"I like you, too," you blurt, voice completely uneven.

Hanbin stops talking and is now staring at you. "What?"

You can't meet his eyes as you repeat yourself, "I like you, too." You look back up at him.

It’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulders and the slight fear in his eyes disappears. Hanbin smiles the biggest smile he can and it causes you to smile as well. "Shall we get to know each other more?"

You nod, and for the rest of the day the two of you sit, eat and talk about everything and anything. You discover his favorite color, why he decided to become a film major and so much more. From just his stories you love his older sister, and his mom is just an angel.

Sadly the sun is going and the shop is closing, so that means it’s time for you to go. The two of you continue to talk as you make your way towards the bus stop. When the two of you reach the stop, you see your shuttle idling by. Most likely waiting for time to go by before it takes off towards the dorms. You made it just in time.

"Well," Hanbin begins as you turn around to face him, "I guess I'll see you later."

You smile, acting like a schoolgirl as you twirl your finger around a loose string on your bag. "Yeah. I'll see you later."

Hanbin chuckles. "Bye, Y/N."

"Bye," you reply, waving as you turn around and enter the shuttle, showing your ID as you take the first seat. You can't see who else is in the vehicle, but you see a few heads. Thankfully they're all back seats kind of people so they can't see all your giddiness. Your phone rings and you quickly pull it out of your bag, forgetting you never put it on vibrate. You frown, answering the phone and looking out the window to Hanbin.

"Would you like to go on a date this weekend?" he asks, gaze towards the door where you had entered.

You chuckle, shining the light from your phone on the window. His attention is now where you are. "I'd love to."

[amphxtrite]

spencer reid x reader

chapter 2 • coffee or tea?

series summary: a new case brings the BAU to New York, investigating a string of murders involving girls who appear very similar. The unsub is relentless, desperate to fill the needs of his fantasy. In the midst of it, spencer meets the girl he been writing with, but had yet to see, prompting a love to blossom in the midst of the storm. Is disaster inevitable? Or will the duplicator’s rein fall?

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, murder, mainly fluff this chapter

chapter summary: the investigation continues, but the team is in dire need of rest after a late night of work. Spencer makes a call to the reader and a plan is put in place to meet, the only question Spencer will have to answer today is a simple one, coffee or tea?

taglist: @le-weasley-simp @thatsonezesty13 @paperandplasma @padsfirewhisky @clubfairy @kiramdd @peach-cliquee @goldeng1rl8​ (message/comment to be added)

word count: 5.7k

“Hotch here.” The unit chief’s voice states, raising his cell to his ear.

“Hey Hotch, this guy’s a romantic, he’s leaving roses and quotes from books at the scenes, we’ve found two already.” Rossi’s voice sounds through the phone.

“Roses? You don’t think-” 

“Yeah I do, he’s keeping them to try and make them fall in love with him.” Rossi sighs.

“But he’s angry, can’t handle the rejection for long.” Hotch finishes, nodding to himself. “Thanks Rossi, if you find anything else let me know.” He chimes, hanging up the phone and going to find JJ.

“Agent Hotchner!” A voice calls to the profiler, prompting him to turn.

“Yes that’s me.” He responds.

“Sorry, I’m Detective Dakota Trent, I’m also working on the case with Detective Kimathi, she’s just at the crime scene.” A brunette with close cropped hair greets the agent, shaking his hand.

“Good, have we come up with anything new yet?” Hotch asks, following Detective Trent to the interrogation rooms.

“Well we’ve talked to both Olivia’s fiancee and Georgia’s boyfriend. They’ve both got solid alibis and people to back up their claims, it’s not them.” Detective Trent shrugs.

“Have you heard about the roses yet?” Hotch questions, examining each of every person’s movements behind the glass.

“Yeah, Kimathi called me just before I found you, we’ve got a romantic serial killer?” They ask.

“What he’s experiencing probably isn’t love, it’d be impossible for him to feel it. My guess is this is an obsession over someone he’s lost or been rejected by.” Hotch explains. Detective Tent nods and points to another direction.

“Agent Jareau just finished interviewing Georgia’s family, you can find her through there.” They smile, Hotch thanks them and steps through.

The unit chief walks down a hallway and peers past each door until he finds the blonde sitting in an empty room; going over the case file again. 

“How are the families?” Hotch asks, stepping in.

“Torn apart.” JJ sighs, closing the file and leaning against the wall behind her. “Olivia’s mom just had enough in her to clear Alice, then she broke down into tears. Isabelle’s parents had it worse though; she was an only child, a miracle one too, her mother had troubles conceiving.” She continues. 

“And Georgia’s parents.” Hotch questions.

“Tried to be strong, but-” JJ pauses. “They could barely look at each other, let alone me.” She concludes sadly.

“Have any of them given any possible suspects?”

“Lots, mainly ‘strange’ ex boyfriends, but I had Garcia check them out and they’re clean.” The blonde shrugs, standing and following Hotch back out.

“They’ve given us a room to set up in, When Spencer gets back I want you to help him come up with a geographic profile.” Hotch nods, opening a door to a room filled with whiteboards and a large table.

“You got it, and maybe ask them to bring a coffee machine in, we’re gonna be up for a while.” JJ giggles, opening the case file again and placing the pictures of each scene up on the whiteboard.

“Hey we’re back from the ME, toxicology found ketamine in both victim one and two.” Prentiss states, opening the door to the board room with Spencer in tow.

“But not victim number three, does that mean he’s devolving?” JJ questions.

“Or she was a victim of opportunity, he couldn’t pass up the chance so he took her.” Spencer includes, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a seat next to JJ after seeing the map in front of her.

“Again it’s hard to know, but Morgan and Rossi found flowers at two of the dump sites so far.” Hotch tells Prentiss and Reid.

“Flowers?” Emily asks.

“A note too, some quotes about finding true love, we’re hoping you could help us with them kid.” Rossi suddenly chimes from behind the group, seeming disgusted at the thought of it. ��We found the third one by the way, hidden in some bushes by the bridge.” 

“What did the cards say, Rossi?” Spencer questions, removing his gaze from the map.

“The first one said ‘I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life.’ Second one said ‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’ Third one said ‘Do I love you? My god, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.” Rossi lists reading off his tablet.

“All of those have to do with love alright, this unsub is absolutely infatuated with the idea of finding his true love.” JJ notes, looking at her own tablet.

“Maybe this unsub has some form of erotomania? Thinking all these girls love him, so he kidnaps them only for them to ruin his fantasy?” Derek suggests, fiddling with a pen in his hands.

“It would make sense why he’s keeping the girls only to kill them, and why they’re fed while he’s holding them.” Prentiss adds, looking to Spencer who looks deep in thought..

“Well now that we know more let’s get to work, we’ll deliver the profile in the morning so every officer can hear.” Hotch states, glancing out the window at the sky which had faded to an eerie black.

“I’ve got it!” Spencer suddenly exclaims. The team looks to him curiously.

“The first quote was from Atonement by Ian McEwan, the second quote was from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, and the last one was from The Princess Bride by William Goldman!” He explains, standing from his seat and writing each quote on the whiteboard.

“These are all famous quotes about love, some of my favourite books too. This unsub is educated, definitely enough to read classic literature-”

“Wait Spence, the other two I can get, but you’ve read The Princess Bride?” JJ asks, excitement lacing her tone.

“Um yes, I saw it at the library so I decided I’d read it.” Spencer murmurs, turning to the whiteboard again to hide the hitch in his voice. The truth was it was another book you had practically begged him to read, he couldn’t say no. Spencer would have never guessed it would have aided him in a case.

“Oh Spence, I love that book too, you should come over and watch the movie with me and Henry, I’ve been meaning to show him.” JJ continues.

Spencer sighs in relief. “Yeah that sounds good JJ.”

---

“You’ve got to be joking.” A tired voice chimes from outside the door.

Hotch glances up at the voice, JJ inhales deeply as she wakes up, Prentiss and Spencer both take long sips from their coffee cups and Derek snores in his seat.

“Can we help you Detective Trent?” Hotch asks, turning to face them. Dakota doesn’t miss the dark bags under the unit chief’s eyes.

“Yes as a matter of fact, go to sleep!” Dakota smiles in a sickly sweet manner.

“I don’t think-”

“They’re right Hotch, you know we aren’t much help dead tired.” Rossi practically pleads.

“I could use some solid food too.” Emily adds, swirling around what remained of her fourth cup of coffee that night.

“You guys have a hotel for a reason, pretty much every other officer is either patrolling or at home, get some rest and we’ll see you in the morning.” Dakota smirks, waving the team off and heading towards the exit.

Hotch sighs and rubs his eyelids, feeling the relief of closing them before opening them again.

“Derek, Derek wake up!” JJ mutters, tapping on Morgan’s shoulder until he finally slumps forward, awake.

“Is it morning yet?” He grumbles.

“No, but we’re heading to the hotel now, and getting food.” JJ smiles, watching Derek perk up at the mention of something to eat. “What’s everyone in the mood for?” She asks, turning to everyone.

“M’ good with anything.” Rossi yawns, leaning against the door frame.

“There’s a shawarma place close to the hotel?” Spencer proposes, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the joint.

The team nods in agreement, shaking the tiredness off to walk back to the hotel.

Spencer enjoyed moments like this, when his team didn’t have to focus on a case for just a few moments, where he could let his mind rest for a minute.

“Hey player, meet any lovely New York ladies yet?” Derek chuckles throwing his arm over Spencer’s shoulder.

Scratch that, this is not what he had in mind.

“Nope.” He responds plainly.

“Right, right… What about that lady you’ve been writing too?” Derek teases, watching Spencer avert his gaze to the sky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He murmurs. Derek’s smile grows.

“A mystery woman, Spencer I didn’t think you had it in you? Is she older? Rich maybe?” Derek lists playfully as Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Sorry Derek, maybe you’re just thinking too much.” Spencer shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets and sighing.

“Alright, I’ll back off.” Derek sighs, lifting his hands in mock surrender, only half telling the truth.

“Take a left here.” Spencer nods, pointing to a dimly lit building. “The shop is down there.” Spencer nods.

“I’ll go with the genius, you guys head back to the hotel.” Derek says, waving off the tired agents as he pushes Spencer forward towards the store. 

“Hey Morgan, do you mind if I call Garcia, I’ll meet you inside.” Spencer smiles as they reach their destination. 

Derek thinks nothing of it and nods, turning to swing open the door and order.

Spencer sighs and glances to both sides before turning and walking in the direction of the payphone. He had chosen this spot not only for convenience sake, but because there was a payphone right outside. It had been a while since Spencer had heard from you, and he felt bad not being able to read your letters.

Taking a deep breath he steps into the phone booth and dials your number.

“Thank you for subscribing to Lynn’s cat shop. Would you like to hear a fact about cat paws?” Your distinct voice chimes from the other end of the line.

“Well I do already know quite a bit, but hit me.” Spencer jokes back, smiling when he hears your audible gasp.

“Dr. Reid!” You laugh, sitting up straight from your lying position in bed.

“Hey what happened to cat facts?” Spencer teases gently, leaning against the side of the booth.

“I thought it was a spam call!” You justify, looking at the number again. “Hey Doc, this is a New York number-” You say slowly, putting two and two together. “You’re here! Are you on a case?”

“Yes actually.” Spencer replies with a soft smile. 

“Is it about that ‘duplicator’ guy I’m seeing on the news?”

“Yes, but don’t worry we’re doing well with the profile, and he’s only killing people that fit his victimology.” Spencer reassures you.

You remain quiet for a moment.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” Spencer asks, eyebrows drawing together at your sudden silence.

“Oh yeah, s-sorry Doc. Hey if you’re up for it, we could- meet up?” You ask, turning the conversation and popping the ‘p.’

“O-Oh.” Spencer stammers, caught off guard by your sudden proposition. “I-I mean I do have to work on the case…” Spencer sighs.

“But?” You plead, leaning into your phone.

“I can meet you earlier? Six am maybe?” Spencer offers quietly, feeling his voice break.

“Ooh you’re pushing it Doctor Reid, but I’ll manage.” You tease.

“Great! Great, um where do you want to meet?” Spencer asks, relief showing through his voice.

“There’s a park beside campus, my favourite spot is the field beside the cafe.” You smirk, dropping a not-so subtle hint.

“I-I’ll be there! Yeah See you then!” Spencer mutters in an excited tone.

“Sounds like a plan. Bye Spence!” You say in a sing-song voice before hanging up.

There it was again, Spence. No matter how many times he’s heard his name before, there was something special about you saying his name. Something that made him feel good.

“Spence…” He murmurs to himself, hanging the phone up and walking into the shawarma shop.

“Bout time pretty boy, what were you even calling about.” Derek asks, as he takes a bite from his wrap.

“Just checking if forensic found anything on the flowers yet.” Reid lies coolly.

“Anything?” Derek says in a muffled voice, throwing a wrap to the brunette.

“Not yet.” Spencer says in a slight yelp, just catching it before it falls.

“Oh well, it’ll probably be there in the morning.” Derek shrugs, picking up the bagged wraps. “Thanks again.” Derek waves to the owner before exiting the store.

“Did you know the origin of the word shawarma comes from the Turkish word çevirme, which means ‘turning’ which makes sense because of the-”

“Just enjoy the food pretty boy, just enjoy it.” Derek sighs, pushing the Shawarma up against Spencer’s mouth.

“Mm-” The younger agent protests, pushing his face back and snatching his shawarma back.

“Hurry up genius, the team is waiting.” Derek laughs.

The brunette rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but speeds up his walk beside his friend anyways.

---

Spencer wakes up to the sound of an alarm in his ear and without skipping a beat he sits up and throws his covers off, careful not to wake Derek sleeping in the bed next to him.

Slowly, he picks up his bag and tip toes to the bathroom, glancing at his watch, the time reads 5:00 am, still dark out. Spencer nods to himself.

Pulling on a white collared shirt and a black- no, black was too formal. Maybe red instead? No, this isn’t a date… “Blue.” Spencer murmurs, placing the tie around his neck and tying it slowly, being sure not to mess up. “Hi I’m Doc- no wait, hi I’m Spencer.” The brunette murmurs to himself as he ties his shoes. Spencer curses himself for only bringing converses and striped socks, but his jeans covered most of it to his relief.

“Hi I’m Spencer-”

“Spence, who are you talking to this early in the morning?” Derek’s drowsy voice groans from his spot in bed.

“I’m heading out early, I’ll see you later Morgan!” Spencer calls, pulling on his jacket to fend off the cool November air and swinging his bag over his shoulder so he could head back to the police department afterwards.

Stepping off the elevator, the hotel was practically empty, Spencer sighs in relief, he must have looked like a psycho constantly fixing his hair and tie. 

He exits the front door into the windy New York outdoors, suddenly regretting not wearing his scarf, but regardless, pushing on.

tousled brown hair swaying in the wind, Spencer checks himself in the glass of a building beside him, licking his chapped lips and swiveling his head back to the pavement ahead of him, careful not to bump into anyone.

Taking another turn, Spencer sees the sign for your university campus and feels his heart begin to race.

All of his thoughts began to jumble. What was his name again? Where was he going? A sudden squawk from a crow brings him back to himself, but his hot face and racing heart were impossible to shake.

As he grows closer to the coffee shop you mentioned to him, he begins to stumble, his feet beginning to fail him. He’s able to play it off as a funny walk, but when he spots the coffee shop, and beside it, the field. He completely stops.

A man grunts behind him, cursing at Spencer before turning and walking around him.

“Sorry.” Spencer murmurs, walking to the side of the pavement before crossing the street quickly.

Glancing down at his wrist again, his watch reads 5:45. Great, now he just had to sit and wait-

“What?”

Spencer’s thoughts are cut short when his vision is cut off by something...warm. Hands.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone-” A sweet voice whispers in his ear.

The melodic voice from across the phone, it was you!

“W-We find it with another.” He stammers out, smiling as he hears your laughter.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, finally we meet.” You sigh, removing your hands from his face and dropping them at your sides.

“Y-Y/n-” Spencer says, turning to face you. 

He freezes for a moment as his eyes adjust to the light again. Then his jaw drops.

“Y-You’re…” Spencer’s eyes follow your y/h/c hair, jawline, eye shape and height. 

“No, no, no, no.” Spencer murmurs, glancing from side to side, overanalyzing every single person in your vicinity.

This was impossible. So, so impossible, yet there you were. Your description matched those girls perfectly, yet here you were out in the open talking to him. You weren’t safe.

“I-I know Doc, but it’s okay, I’ve got my pepper spray and everything!” You reassure Spencer, squeezing his hand gently.

“Y/n, y-you fit this unsub’s type, you can’t just be out here like this it’s not safe!” Spencer snaps, pulling his jacket off by the sleeves and swinging it over your head to hide you.

Your eyes widen and Spencer’s stomach fills with dread.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just want you to be safe.” Spencer explains, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you.

“It’s alright Spence. I knew the risk, but I just wanted to see you.” You mutter, crossing your arms and sighing.

“Hey, you- you finished Love and Living.” Spencer smiles softly, remembering the quote you whispered to him when you covered his eyes.

“Yeah, it just kind of stuck with me. Thomas Merton can really write.” You smirk, nodding your head a little.

“Well I certainly prefer him over J.C?” Spencer asks, sarcastically tilting his chin.

“J.K, but you already knew that.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“I did?” Spencer jokes, eyes widening when he finally realizes how close the two of you are to each other, his eyes shyly draw downwards.

“Ahem?” You smirk. “Eyes up here Doc.” 

“O-Oh it’s not like that, I swear.” Spencer rushes, quickly looking back up in panic.

“Hey Spence! I’m just teasing, it’s alright.” You stammer in a hushed tone, gently moving your hands to cup Spencer’s face as reassurance.

The hits just kept coming today. Spencer internally trembles, but nods, darting his tongue out again to hide his quivering lip.

“Hey, since we’re both just standing here, do you want to grab something to eat?” You shrug, awkwardly retreating your hands to your chest.

There it was again, the sound of his name on your voice.

“C-Coffee?” Spencer sputters. “How about coffee?” Spencer repeats, clearing his voice and moving his hands from your shoulders to his sides.

“Yeah, coffee sounds great Doc.” You nod, taking Spencer’s hand and pulling him forwards.

“I’ve been going to this place since my first year here, amazing coffee, tea, and even seasonal sodas.” You gush, squeezing his hand and opening the door to the local shop.

“Any idea of what you want to order?” You ask, turning to face the brunette and shifting his jacket from your head to your arms.

“Uh, regular coffee is fine?” Spencer’s voice comes out almost as a question, he feels himself growing timid at the size of the menu.

“I’ll tell Choi ssi to surprise you.” 

Spencer nods, his lips pulling up into a line.

“Ah if it isn’t my favourite little boba pearl, what can I get for you today?” A man in his late forties calls to you with a smile. “And who might this be?” Mr. Choi motions to Spencer.

“Choi ssi, I’d like you to meet my Doc.” You smile. Spencer feels his face heat up at ‘my’

“I-I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He explains, nodding to the man behind the counter.

“I’m Viktor Choi, and Doctor? Wow, how old are you kid?” Mr. Choi questions in slight awe.

“Twenty five.” Spencer answers plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

Viktor’s jaw drops.

“Yeah I get that a lot, are we gonna order now?” Spencer blurts, turning back to you.

“Yeah of course. I’ll have my boba, and Doc-” You pause, tapping Spencer on the chest. “Would like to be surprised.” You smirk.

“Oh adventurous.” Choi smirks back to you, raising his eyebrows. You nod.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, feeling something strange was awaiting him.

“Oh you’ll love it!” You smile, placing a paper bill on the counter and pulling Spencer towards a table.

From the shake of Mr. Choi’s head and your small smirk, Spencer made an educated guess you gave him more than what was expected.

“Here.” You point to an empty table beside one of the large windows that wrapped around the shop.

“A window seat.” Spencer smirks, sitting in the chair across from you.

“What, you have a profiler fact for me?” You tease.

“Well, people who prefer window seats are more selfish and easily irritable.” Spencer shrugs feeling his smile widen. 

“Hey I just like to feel the sun.” You protest, looking out into the busy traffic not too far from you.

“I see.” Spencer smirks, glancing over to see you gazing into the sunlight.

Spencer is caught off guard at first, beauty isn’t usually a thing he notices, but it would be impossible for him not to admire you.

Your e/c eyes seemed to glow in the sunrise, your hair shined and your smile grew and seemed to shine brighter than the sun could ever be, figuratively though, obviously. 

Strange, Spencer felt his hands clam up and heart began to race again.

“Order for miss boba and her doc!” Mr. Choi calls, drawing both yours and Spencer’s attention.

“You seemed like a coffee kind of guy.” He shrugs as you bring the two drinks back to your table.

Spencer smiles in acknowledgement before looking down at what looked to be a simple coffee with a rim of milk foam and- Spencer furrows his eyebrows, chocolate shavings.

“Don’t be deceived, his coffee packs a punch.” You smirk, stirring your drink with the straw poking out of it.

“Good.” Spencer nods, drawing a laugh from you, as he lifts the mug to his lips and blows on the hot liquid, finally getting a taste.

The first thing that hits Spencer is the sweetness, just the right amount that made him smile as he drank it. The next was how rich it is, practically gliding over his tongue like melted chocolate, of course just not as viscous. 

You must have noticed a change in his demeanor because you begin to giggle to yourself.

You couldn’t help it, the look on Spencer’s face was too good not to notice.

His eyes widened, brows raised to his hairline and he tilted the cup higher in an instant to get more.

“Adorable.” You sigh to yourself, not realizing you had said it out loud until Spencer suddenly chokes on his drink.

“Oh my god, Spence are you alright?” You worry, holding a napkin to his chin as drops of coffee spill past his lips. 

The brunette nods, bringing the drink back down onto the table to see he had already drunken half of it.

“It’s good right?” You grin, pulling the napkin away but not moving back just yet.

Spencer nods, already feeling a buzz, but unsure if it was from the coffee or your sudden proximity, or you calling him adorable.

His ears felt as though they were burning, and this time he couldn’t blame the coffee.

Timidly glancing up, it seemed as though you could say the same for your cheeks.

Spencer lifts his mug up again to take another sip of his beverage, clearing his throat a bit before speaking again.

“I-If it makes you feel any better, I find you rather endearing, myself.” Spencer says just above a whisper, too nervous to look you back in the eye.

“Thank you Spencer.” You smile, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest and in your face.

Without thinking you look up and tilt Spencer’s chin back up to face you. His eyes read amazement and sheepishness, prompting a giggle from you.

Usually Spencer would have pushed the hand touching him away, ready to list facts about germs to make sure no one in the general vicinity would try that again. But there was something about his racing heart and your gentle hands that smelt of lavender, that made it impossible for any words to come out at all, he barely wanted to move.

“Hey Doc, do you feel like going for a walk?” You ask, stroking your thumb down Spencer’s cheek to catch his attention again. 

“Yeah, yeah a walk.” Spencer glances down at his watch, 6:24.

“I have to be back at the station for seven, but I can walk you back to your dorm?” Spencer offers, half suggesting it just to make sure you got back safely.

“What a gentleman.” You smirk standing and prompting Spencer to follow you. “You can drop the cup off at the counter over there.” You say, Spencer nods, standing and placing the mug at the counter for an employee to sweep it away in seconds.

“Now come on, we’ve still got time for me to give you a little tour.” You grin, putting a bit too much emphasis on little.

To the profiler’s surprise, you take his hand into yours as you wave goodbye to Mr. Choi.

“Bye my little boba pearl and Dr. Boyfriend!” He shouts out to you and Spencer as you exit the door. Spencer doesn’t even have time to sputter out a correction before you’re pulling him towards your campus. 

“Isn’t he the best! He and his husband have been running that place for years, the best coffee in the city if you ask me.” You chuckle, slowing your speed to a steady walk beside Spencer.

“Yeah, we should go again sometimes.” Spencer shrugs, finally closing his hands around yours, growing accustomed to the feeling.

“D-Did you know that multiple studies, including one conducted at the University of California Los Angeles, show that human touch triggers the release of oxytocin, in our brain. Oxytocin is-” 

“A neurotransmitter that increases feelings of trust, generosity and compassion, and decreases feelings of fear and anxiety, aka the love hormone.” You finish, smiling up at him reassuringly.

You knew Spencer began listing off random facts when he felt he’d made an atmosphere awkward. You’d started noticing these cues once the two of you began talking on the phone, so you made sure to ensure everything was fine to him. 

“Yeah, t-that’s the one.” Spencer mutters.

The brunette was always cut off while he tried to explain a statistic or fact. He knew it was never to hurt him in any way, but it still got frustrating for him when he was talked over.

When you cut him off on the other hand,  it is to finish his sentence and complete the fact. He was starting to see why so many people found this gesture romantic.

Your smile grows as you notice Spencer’s eyes downcast on your hands.

Rounding the corner deeper into your campus, you stop at a couple spots to tell Spencer more about your school life and how your studies were going.

“I can’t believe I’m really graduating this year.” You sigh dreamily, looking up into the sky.

“Do you have any ideas where you may want to work?” Spencer asks as you lead him to a fountain in the centre of a field.

“Well, not exactly, but I’ve still got time to decide.” You grin, digging into your pocket for something Spencer couldn’t see.

“You know the BAU will always be an option.” Spencer shrugs, watching you pull out a shiny quarter.

“I dunno doc. All that stuff might not be for me.” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment before flipping the coin into the water of the fountain.

“Yeah I guess serial killers and psychopaths aren’t everyone's cup of tea.” Spencer says seriously, causing you to break out in a fit of giggles.

“Do you believe in wishes coming true Spence?” You continue laughing, pulling Spencer in the direction of your dorm.

Spencer’s head snaps up at his name, but his eyebrows furrow.

“Well the act of throwing valuables into water hasn’t always been for wishing, it used to be for worshipping gods and other deities, but as the years went by it became popularized to wish for things by throwing something of value into the basic fundamental of human life.” Spencer pauses looking to you apologetically.

“It’s okay Spence, I’m listening.” You smile.

“Oh okay- First used to honour gods, people began asking for favours such as a good harvest or for a loved one to get well from a sickness which is where wishing wells came from.” Spencer nods, squeezing your hand as a silent ‘thank you.’

“So to answer my question-” You draw on, looking curiously into Spencer’s hazel eyes.

“While there’s no sound science to prove anything, I don’t see why people can’t have something to believe in, as long as they understand if it doesn’t come true.” Spencer shrugs, stopping when you do, outside a large building.

“So I’ll take that as a yes, but.” You smirk.

“I suppose, besides sometimes the wishes do come true out of pure coincidence, but you can never say that.” Spencer shrugs.

“It sounds like you speak from experience.” You laugh, nudging him in the side.

“My friend Penelope wished I’d get my haircut, but didn’t tell me until I did, three months later.” Spencer chuckles.

Both of you knew you were supposed to say goodbye now, if you remained just standing there any longer you’d become a problem for sleep-deprived students. Not a good mix.

But neither of you could find the will to move, your hands stayed interlocked and your smiles remained as Spencer began talking more about a couple books and some more facts about wishing wells.

“Y/n?” A loud voice calls to you from afar. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The voice chimes again, slowly getting closer.

“Oh I’m sorry Adira, I was meaning to tell you.” You apologize, letting go of Spencer’s hand to turn around and speak to the person calling you.

For a minute Spencer forgot how to function his hand, he just sort of hovered it in the air for a second, before regaining his train of thought and dropping his hand back to his side and turning.

“I’ve been worried sick y/n, you haven’t been answering your phone and with that ‘duplicator’ guy running around-” Adira begins, cutting off to wrap her arms around you. “Don’t do that again, please.”

“Alright, I’m sorry Adira, but I had a friend with me, see.” You smile, turning her to face Spencer.

“Hello.” Spencer greets awkwardly, placing his hands into his pockets and nodding.

“Wait he sounds just like-” Adira pauses. “That’s Doc?” They pause, jaw dropping as she begins tugging on your sleeve.

“Yes- that’s him.” You smile, tapping on her hand to try and get her to stop before your face overheats.

“Okay okay!” Adira laughs, rolling her eyes as she fixes her headscarf and extends her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, y/n has not stopped talking about you since you started writing to each other-”

“Adira!” You intervene, bringing your hand to your face to hide your blush.

“Wow you’re even cuter than the photo-”

“Okay, we still have that project to work on right, let’s go.” You laugh nervously, pushing Adira towards the door of your dorm room as she remembers something.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

“Perfect, we’ll finish it up when we get inside.” You smile.

“Nice jacket by the way, where’d you get it?” Adira comments, poking the black suit jacket on your arm, and then back again at Spencer standing in a collared shirt and tie.

“Y/n!” She laughs teasingly, turning around and grabbing a hold of your shoulders.

“I’ll head in on my own, now have fun, but not too much fun.” She smirks, pushing you back towards Spencer before walking into the building and throwing you a wink.

“I-I’m-”

“There’s no need to apologize, I’m rather flattered you talk about me.” Spencer shrugs, looking down at the ground subtly.

“Well of course I do, you’ve become a big part of my life y’know.” You smile, taking Spencer’s large hands into yours.

Spencer smiles fondly, hiding the internal regret he held, the profiler had yet to tell any of his friends about you, wanting to have this one thing for himself in his twisted world.

Squeezing your hands, Spencer nods and glances down at his watch.

“I should get back to the station.” The brunette murmurs.

“You should get back to the station.” You reply, loosening your grip only for Spencer to pull you back.

“I-I’m happy I got to meet you by the way, please call me if you need anything, or just to talk.” Spencer pushes his lips back in a forced smile, he was reluctant to leave you alone.

“I will Spence. Catch that guy for me alright?” You smirk, wrapping Spencer in a short hug before shrugging off his jacket, placing it over Spencer’s shoulders and turning to finally walk into the building.

Spencer barely had time to react to your gesture, but while he processed it, he simply stood there. It was as though you had left an imprint of yourself on him, a reminder you were real, and really held him. He was truly awestruck.

His suit jacket held the faintest scent of your perfume, the feeling of your arms lingered on his torso and his hands still reached for yours though you were long gone.

This feeling was foreign to the brunette, but not rejected. Spencer quite enjoyed it after all.

After a few moments of not moving the brunette finally picks up his feet and turns to leave, not noticing the figure not too far away clenching his fists so hard, blood begins to trickle slowly out.

[kookicat]

Consequences That He Renders

He's shaking hard enough for her to feel, fine tremors running through his hands, his arms and it's freaking her out because as a rule, Eliot Spencer isn't a man who shakes. The last time she'd seen it was after a job went majorly, horribly bad, when he'd been so battered and bruised and bloody they'd actually managed to get him to visit a hospital. It's too dark in the car to get a proper look at his face, but the streetlights offer glimpses and she'd swear on a stack of hundred dollar bills that he's pale, eyes shadowed, gaze fixed at some point miles past the glass. 

The car hits a pothole, hard, and he grunts, lip curling, one hand creeping up to cup his left shoulder. It's the one he favours first, some nagging remains of an old injury, and it makes the tension in her stomach curl a bit tighter, like a snake burrowing into the sand for the night. She's a thief; she's trained to notice the smallest detail because it can be a matter of life and death if she misses something. Another piece of the mental jigsaw she's building clicks into place when he shifts, jaw tightening as some sore spot somewhere presses against the seat. 

"Eliot," she starts, resisting the urge to poke him, to see how badly he's hurt this time in favour of leaning over a little. 

"Parker," he says, voice hoarse with exhaustion, and turns towards her. He can't quite meet her eyes. Another piece. Something bad happened. She's not great with emotions but she's learning. It's not shame on his face, but sorrow. 

"Are you okay?" She gives into the urge and presses her hand against his arm, half expecting him to move away. 

He doesn't, just blinks tiredly at her and dredges up a weak smile. "I'm fine," he says and she lets the lie slide because she knows he's not fine at all. 

"What happened, at the warehouse?" She keeps her eyes on his face, seeing a flicker of something before he shoves it down deep. 

"I did my job. Got Nate and his Italian friend out of there." As he says the words, voice flat, the smell of cordite floods his nose, thick and bitter and choking. He can feel the weight of the guns in his hands, feel the shock of the recoil burning up his wrists as he takes the next target out. As he kills the next man, the voice in the back of his head mocks. 

It had felt clear and clean in the moment, the kind of clarity only found at the right end of a gun but he's reeling, because he stepped into the kill box and didn't expect to walk back out. His life for his team's, a fair and more than even trade. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, but after the fact, he's not quite sure how he managed to survive. 

"Oh," she says, voice so small, it makes him really look at her. There's a pensive frown between her eyebrows that he longs to wipe away but his hands aren't clean and he doesn't want to stain her. She needs a distraction, and he inadvertently gives her one when the car hits another bump, forcing another soft grunt out of him. 

He's wrenched his back and bad shoulder all to hell and he's pretty sure that both knees are skinned raw from his slide. There's a low grade throb in both hands that he knows will evolve into a full on ache before too much longer. He knows guns, but he rarely uses them and he's paying the price. 

"I thought you said you were okay!" She reaches for him, and he wards her off with one arm, biting the inside of his lip when she grabs his arm right over a growing bruise. 

"I've had worse," he says, and it's true. He's pretty sure nothing is broken. He's just sore all over, abused muscles aching but it's not life threatening, just enough to make him miserable. 

Something in her eyes shifts and she blinks, hard, hand tightening a little on his arm. He expects her to speak, but she just presses her lips together and leans against him gently, staying there until the car stops.

Hardison looks up from his laptop, taking in the scene with a sweep of his eyes, and gets out, coming round to open the door. Parker slides out of the other side and Eliot realises with a jolt they're all waiting for him, even Sophie and Nate.

It's going to take him a moment to get out and he'd really rather not have an audience for the performance. 

"I'll catch up," he says and holds his hand out for the keys. 

Parker snatches them from Nate. "We'll catch up," she says, giving Hardison a meaningful glance. 

Sophie catches on and takes Nate's arm, tugging him towards the hotel entrance, casting a worried glance back at the car as she goes. 

Eliot gets a good look at his friends’ faces and chokes back a sigh. They're going nowhere at least not without an argument, and he just doesn't have the energy for it right now. He swings his legs out of the car, pausing for a moment when his back spasms, then forces himself to stand. Being upright hurts, the long muscles in his abs tight and sore, back aching. The shootout ran him through the wringer and the aftereffects are starting to kick in. 

"Come on, man," Hardison says and leans past Eliot to slam the car door. One hand lifts like he wants to offer assistance, but the older man shoots him down with a quick look. 

They flank him, Parker on one side, Hardison on the other as he limps towards the entrance, feeling the denim peel away from his knees in a way that makes him want to hurl. His shirt is sticking to his back in a similar way and he rolls his shoulders in annoyance. It sends a bolt of pain down his spine and he stops, eyes closing until it eases. 

"You're freaking me out, man," Hardison says, running his gaze over the other man, checking for blood. There's a few spots - his left shoulder is sporting a nasty blood stain, as are both of his knees, but nothing major jumps out. They've seen him hurt worse and walk it off but this time is different and Hardison just can't put his finger on why. 

Eliot starts walking again, eyes fixed on the doors, but he's distant, pensive and Hardison realises with a jolt that's the problem. There's a level of quiet they only see from the older man when he's really hurt but that doesn't tally with the visible injuries and it's ringing alarm bells in Hardison's mind. 

He glances at Parker, getting a nod in return. Something dreadful went down in that warehouse, bad enough that Eliot doesn't want to talk about it, bad enough that he's pulled back into his shell. The thought of what it could be sends a chill down Hardison's spine. Part of him wants to push, to needle a confession from the other man but a bigger part of him doesn't want to know. Their hitter had done his job and got everyone back safe and beyond that the details don't really matter. They won't judge him no matter what he did. 

There's an elevator waiting in the lobby and they shuffle into it. The mirrored walls show Eliot just how bad he looks, and he suddenly understands why his friends are so concerned. He's pasty, dirt streaked and vaguely clammy in the air conditioning. He wants a shower, a change of clothes and a time machine, so he can go way back before this whole mess started and stop Nate from throwing them at Moreau. He knows which of those he's likely to get and leans against the wall with a sigh. 

He's lucked out on this stay, managed to get a room to himself and he fishes in his pocket for the key, vaguely surprised it's still there. 

Parker and Hardison are looking at him and he licks his lips, tries to dredge up some sort of response and settles for a quick, tired smile that he knows doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "Thanks," he says and unlocks the door, "I'm going to go clean up. See you in a few." 

He ducks inside, closing the door on them, knowing it's a shitty thing to do. He's pretty sure they'll forgive him, pretty sure they'd already figured out this wasn't a normal job and he's not in the mood for twenty questions. He pauses, slides the chain into place like it'll stall Parker for more than a couple of seconds if she decides she wants in. 

Pain runs through his fingers as he grabs a change of clothes and carries them to the bathroom, starting the shower. His clothes stink, a bitter mix of smoke and cordite and sweat and he struggles out of them, throwing them in the corner for now. The water engulfs him, washing away the physical traces of what he did and it suddenly hits him, hard enough to unlock his knees so he ends up sitting with his back to the shower wall. 

The tears are a surprise, because he thought he'd forgotten how to cry, used them all up. He pulls his knees up and rests his forehead on them, gulping in breaths when black spots swirl through his eyes. He's not weeping for the men he killed - their own choices put them in that warehouse, and none of them was an innocent - but for the man he was becoming, someone closer to the kid he searches for everyday in the mirror. They leave him aching and empty and hollow and it's going to take a while to soothe the new raw spots inside his soul. 

He's chilled from sitting in the cold tile and the water is starting to run cold so he forces himself to his feet, reaching for soap and a washcloth, scrubbing any last trace of the battle from his body. It stings in places, highlighting minor cuts and knicks he didn't know he had until the lather found them, painting a map of damage to his body. He can't quite lift his left arm high enough to wash his hair and settles for doing his best one handed. He rinses, shivering, under the now cold water and steps out, wrapping a towel around his hips, leaning towards the mirror to find out why his shoulder hurts so much. 

There's a splinter longer than his hand in the back of his shoulder. He can see it in the mirror but he just can't get the angle to dig it out. It hurts, a nasty throbbing ache that makes him want to tear his arm off and he tries again, flinching when his fingers just brush the wood. He's going to need help and stoops to find his phone in the pile of filthy clothes, sending a quick message. 

He drys himself, slipping into soft sweatpants, draping a towel carefully around his neck to catch the water trickling from his hair. Somehow he's not surprised to find Parker and Sophie are already in the bedroom when he opens the bathroom door and steps out. There's the big medical bag between them on the couch and he pauses, steeling himself because the damn thing has to come out but it's not going to be a fun process. 

"Hi," Parker says, voice just a tiny bit unsure, like she's not sure how he's going to react. 

"Hey, Parker," he says, voice so rough that he winces, tries to swallow. "Sophie." 

He's not sure which one of them is more surprised when she stands, wrapping her arms around him carefully. 

"Thank you for bringing him home," she whispers in his ear and he nods, having to swallow hard before he can answer. 

"I'd do the same thing for any of you," he says simply and lets himself lean into the hug for a second. 

The towel slips and she gasps when she sees the sliver of wood lodged in his flesh. "Jesus Christ, Eliot!" she says, ducking out of his arms for a closer look. "This is not a little problem!" 

He flinches, a little at her raised voice, knows they both notice. "Still needs to come out." 

The room has a small table and he turns one of the chairs, sitting down slowly and resting his good arm on the back. His left shoulder doesn't want to bend and he gives in, tucking his arm in in front of him. 

"Eliot, are you sure about this?" Sophie asks. "I'm sure we can find an actual trained medical professional to remove this from you."

He scoffs at that. "It's a splinter. If it was somewhere I could reach, I'd be digging it out myself right now." 

"It's going to hurt," she says and if his head wasn't already throbbing, he'd roll his eyes at that. It already hurts, and getting it out before an infection sets in is his main concern. 

"Just do it," he says, and put his chin down on his good arm, watching Parker as she lays out various medical supplies on the table in front of him. There's tweezers, squares of gauze, dressings, tape and wound ointment. He bites the inside of his lip, lifting his head to speak. "Grab the scalpel and stitch kit too," he says simply and she nods, one sharp bob of her head and reaches back into the bag. 

Sophie presses an ice pack over the wound and he shivers under the chill, but it helps, takes some of the throbbing away and he's damn grateful for that. 

Parker slips a pair of gloves on and moves behind him, reaching over him to grab some gauze and the tweezers. The closeness makes him feel twitchy and his hand tightens on the chair. 

He grits his teeth as she lifts the ice pack off and probes the sliver with the tweezers, the plastic catching on the wood. It makes him flinch, muscles twitching and he feels her freeze behind him. 

"I'm okay. It's okay," he says quietly. "Keep going." 

"Tell me, if you need me to stop," she says, one hand brushing his bare back before she gets to work with the tweezers again. 

It's a nasty sliver, maybe four inches long, jammed in the muscle just under his shoulder blade. The end is ragged and friable and every time she thinks she's got a good grip, the wood breaks off. The muscles in his back are tense under her hands, breathing deliberately steady and she knows all the poking must be agony. 

"Parker," Eliot says, voice slightly hoarse, and she stops instantly. "Just cut it," he adds and blows out a ragged breath. 

"Cut you, you mean?" She glances at the scalpel and shudders. 

"Yeah," he says, and turns as much as he can to look at her. "That's where the damn thing is, after all." He's pale again, eyes shadowed, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his face. 

She licks her lips and nods. "Tell me what to do." 

He does, in more detail than she ever wanted and her hand only shakes a little when she picks the scalpel up, trying not to think as she follows his instructions, swabbing his back with antiseptic first. Shaky doesn't seem an acceptable trait for performing minor surgery and she presses the ice pack against his shoulder until she has the shake under control. She places the blade against his skin and makes one swift cut. It frees some of the splinter and she reaches for the tweezers again but the wood still stubbornly refuses to come free. 

It rips a pained grunt out of him and he swallows so hard she can hear it. 

"Eliot…" Parker says, free hand on his good shoulder, thumb rubbing absent circles on his skin. She looks up, meeting Sophie's horrified gaze. It's not the first time they've had to do stuff like this and given their jobs, if probably won't be last but that doesn't make it any easier. 

"Just get it done," he rasps, tacking on please as an afterthought to soften his tone. 

"Okay," Parker says and makes the cut bigger, swiping away blood and letting the gauze drop to the floor. 

His back is still under her hands, but she can hear the strain of it in his breathing when she goes in with the tweezers again. His good hand is gripping the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white, head tipped forward so his hair falls past his face, hiding his expression. 

Blood wells again as she gets a good grip on the wood and tugs. It moves this time, sliding out maybe half and inch and Eliot makes a noise halfway between a hiss and a grunt. 

His whole world has distilled down to the throb in his shoulder, the sharp but cleaner pain from the incision, the ache down his back as he fights his instincts to stay still so he doesn't scare Parker half to death. 

"Nearly done," Parker says, and he can hear the wobble in her voice that means she's crying and trying to hide it. 

Must be the day for it, he thinks. "You're doing great," he tells her, because she is. It's a damn brave thing she's doing, and he's not sure how to make her understand how grateful he is for the help. 

She changes her grip on the tweezers and takes another hold on the sliver, pulling slowly, easing it out from under his skin. The entire thing slides free suddenly and she feels like cheering. "It's out," she says and drops it on the table in front of him. 

He swipes his hair back from his face, blinking at the damn thing in surprise. It had felt huge in his back, like a stone in a shoe, but it's actually bigger than he'd expected. 

"Well, fuck," he says simply, and takes a deep breath that doesn't pull obscenely at his shoulder. 

Sophie hands over a dish of antiseptic and more gauze. "It says it doesn't sting," she says and takes a minor risk, resting her hand on his arm. His muscles tense under her touch at first before he blows out a long breath and lets himself relax. 

She's right, it doesn't sting at all as Parker cleans the wounds, adding wound ointment for good measure before taping a dressing securely over the top. He's glad she's being so thorough because pallet wood tends to be coated in all kinds of dirty stuff and the last thing he wants is an infection. 

He's exhausted and all he wants to do is give into the pull of the bed and sack out for a couple of hours, give his brain and body chance to rest a bit but he's painfully aware of Parker standing next to him, face pale. 

"Thank you," he says. "Feels better already," he adds, and it's not quite a lie. 

She nods, sharply and he forces himself to his feet, accepting a t-shirt from Sophie who tips her head towards the door and slips out quietly. 

"You were shaking in the car," Parker says and he sinks back into the seat. "Why were you shaking in the car, Eliot?" she asks, like it's something she can't quite square in her mind. 

He licks his lips, knowing he's too exhausted and mentally fried to have this conversation right now. He also knows that he owes her. "It was a rough fight," he says simply, after a long pause, thankful there's enough cuts and bruises on his skin to sell the story. 

"Did you kill someone?" She can't look at him and he feels a stab of self hatred rip through him, more painful and cutting by far than the wound on his back. 

He hesitates, again, because he doesn't want her to think badly of him, but she's been brave enough to ask the question and he needs to be brave enough to answer. "Yes," he says and doesn't try to explain or excuse it. He did his job and he'll take the consequences, no matter how much they hurt. 

"Okay," she says and looks at him. "You should rest," she says and a rush of gratitude races through him for the way her brain works. She's got the answers that she wanted and she's not going to press him for more. 

He stands, body aching, and brushes past her, dropping a featherlight kiss on her temple on the way to the bed. "Stay?" he asks, in the same tone she'd once used on him, and she nods, curling up one one side of the big bed, one socked foot resting against his calf. 

It takes him a while to get comfortable and he watches as the tension slowly drains from her face before he lets his own eyes close. 

Thank you, he thinks. Thank you for not hating me. Thank you for giving me another chance when I don't deserve it. 

He's not sure how or why or which God is setting up a long joke at his expense, but he's found a family and he's going to do everything he can to keep them whole. 

Even if it costs him more of his already tattered soul. 

That's a consequence he can live with. 

Losing them isn't.