#i mean. still absolutely Fucked Up and Horrifying but also. The Last Ass Of Us made me shriek with laughter

[humandisastersquad]

True Facts: Fungi That Control The Insects They Eat

[susannaius]

Pretension

Ok, so I loved EVERYTHING about this episode, starting with THIS:

Just look at his face. How horrified he is. This is the first time he might realise that there is actually something wrong with him. He wants to contradict his father, he wants it so much, and he physically cannot. And the first part of it? Plagg is right behind him, so while he is there, he cannot see Adrien's face, cannot see the absolute distress he is in (while he is already used to Adrien musing about contradicting his father but not acting on it). Adrien is so ALONE.

The only upside is that the situation will not last long, because Marinette will storm in, enclose him in an embrace, and reassuring him that she will always be there for him. I really loved how Gorilla simply let her did it. Not that I'm surprised, especially after we were reassured earlier in the episode that he is in Adrien's corner.

Also, Marinette is absolute queen in this episode. After Gabe accuses her that she is in "love" with Adrien only for the fame and the connections (which a lot of Marinette salters do anyway), and in general does his best to break off her wings, she makes the most of the situation by 1. leaving the situation without choosing one bad thing or another, 2. still reassuring Adrien she is there, and 3. handing Gabe's ass to him on the pancake front. As soon as she is out of view, she deserves a little meltdown, as a treat.

In the meantime, Tomoe is being a total bitch. If anyone had any doubts whether she cares about her daughter, know we know for sure. And what kind of twisted person would say that wanting to feel love and feel loved, and letting other to have the same is being "slaves to their feelings"? What the actual ever giving fuck?

And this is topped by Felix coming to her "rescue". My baby boy is trying to express his feelings by stalking and kidnapping the girl she likes! I'm so glad Kagami is calling him out on his bullshit. (And that when he asks for time, she stops swinging the chair, but will not put it down.)

But then, but then... OK, so I tried to keep as spoiler free as possible, but I still ended up getting hints of Feligami. And I was like, huh? How is that possible? How can that work? But then Felix goes and says the one thing that can realistically make self-sufficient, determined, but lonely Kagami fall for him: that he wants to protect her from her mum, and here mum can't talk to her like this?!?

Look at that girl? She is so... soft?!? But alas, this cannot last, guests arrive, and EVERYONE wants to save Kagami! Asasdfasgsdxsgafvgd

The only question is, who does KAGAMI want to save her? Probably not Felix... But then her mum starts shooting arrows at her, so...

Hey, what do you MEAN Felix's father was worse? How worse? Did we know about this? Did Felix get free because his father died? What is happening?

Felix getting romantic in the sewers (the sewer system is such a romantic place, we know that already) - about senti beings. Or is he talking about parents? Who knows? Not me! Not based on this one frame!

And then our heroes arrive and Kagami stands up to them! For Felix! And we get teamwork! Yay!

And it is so bad that when Tomoe is turned back and Ladybug briefly talks to her, we know this is not the end of it. And then Kagami comes and tells her that to follow one's heart is not a weakness! GO KAGAMI! But Kagami is still a dutiful daughter who loves and respects her mum very much...

Please tell me she is not a senti and that is not her amok please tell me she is not a senti and that is not her amok please tell me she is not a senti and that is not her amok please tell me she is not a senti and that is not her amok...

Well, I guess, she is, and it is... (in which case I do hope Felix tells her to keep it safe, and maybe also why, grrrr)

(On a sidenote, you can trust Gabe to promise Natalie that he would spend as much time with Adrien as possible, taking this last chance to be there for him - and then trying to break up him and his girlfriend, and announcing to send Adrien off to London. Of course, that can only be expected. Ugh.)

OMG WHAT A RIDE

(One more thing: when I first read the sentiadrien thing I was so angry, and when I first read the "all the rich kids are sentis" thing I was like no, that cannot be true... But all these things happening, and Felix being like this... it makes total sense if all the rich kids are sentis, while none if not, unless there is a totally different solutions... and this is the biggest red herring of the history of animation.)

[yesterdayiwrote]

i think everyone overestimates drivers' relationships with one another, I am sure I do it too to some extent. But what truly bothers me the most about the lando and lewis matter is that the kid has run his mouth so many times. Had those things been said by any other driver, we would still be speaking about it. Norris has been honestly disrespectful so many times ( also how entitled can you really be with the guy who has literally won it all and will go down to be one the greatest in the history of the sport) and maybe idk lewis truly is more graceful than any of us. The guy has done the same with Ricciardo (not a fave of mine but also some stuff that was said last year was honestly just rude for the sake of it). The guy needs to learn how to be professional at times - it is not a good look.

The thing with Lando is he’s absolutely, 100% an overprivileged brat and that more often than not seems to influence his behaviour, and yet there’s a side order of ‘pick me’ about him too.

Take the trophy for instance. Any normal human being with an appreciation of the value of money would be horrified if they did that. Sure, it was an accident, but then surely the decent thing to do is apologise. At least show some inkling of remorse, even if it’s just a “Oh god, I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry, I feel really bad!” Instead he instantly doubled down, turned it into a joke, and made out like it was no big deal, which is what the majority of privileged people do when they fuck up because they’re not used to being held to account. £40k is nothing to them, they’d probably piss it up the wall on a night out without a second thought.

Then there’s his comments about Lewis. He misguidedly thinks Lewis has never struggled because his privileged ass can only fathom ‘struggle’ as having a bad race car and being at the back of the grid. True struggles don’t even enter his mind when he runs his mouth making comments. His family have never struggled to make ends meet, he’s never struggled to have his racing career funded, he’s never had to rely on an academy to keep his racing dreams alive. He’s never struggled to be accepted in a paddock because of the colour of his skin. The extent of his ‘struggle’ is driving a car in P19, and because that’s the one struggle he perceives Lewis to not have experienced then he presumes that Lewis doesn’t truly know struggle.

The guy is a dick.

I can’t speak to why Lewis persists with giving him so many chances and is so charitable with him. I think he probably sees some of himself in him, and also… I think they probably have quite similar sense of humour. Lewis plays it cool but deep down he’s a bit of a goof? Lando’s immaturity is actually…right up Lewis’ street.

Lando undoubtedly trades off Lewis when it suits him, and then throws him straight under the bus when he fancies as well.

[izzyeffinhands]

The only Facebook group I feel safe in as an Izzy Hands stan is Our Flag Means Daddy.

Even though I am apart of the two main groups as well, i.e. Our Flag Means Deathposting, Our Flag Means Fans, I do NOT feel SAFE. I see the wildest and hottest fucking takes in these groups and they piss me off. Are you even watching the same show? I’m also sick and tired of people calling Izzy a villain when he clearly is not. Also there are many that don’t recognize he’s gay, even after season 2. If you voice you’re upset and betrayed? You get attacked. I was again last night.

I guess I’m a proud Izzy “apologist”, but it fucking baffles me how fans just give Ed a pass on all the brutal things he did. Oh but the love story—- NO. Recognize you’re an Ed apologist as well. I like both Ed and Izzy, but I recognize the horrifying things Ed did.

The day of the finale, I posted my thoughts on various social media. I got attacked. I got messages even on tumblr from anon cowards who I imagine followed through Twatter. I was called the t slur. That I was stupid, fat, all sorts of things.

It’s because I said I’ll never trust David Jenkins again. Now, do I have my own thoughts as to whether parts of the finale are a dream state/gravy basket that Stede himself is in? Absolutely. But let’s dive into why I was especially hurt.

First off. I am disabled. For those who know me, I’ve also had two leg surgeries and my injury has ruined my life. So seeing Izzy with a false leg, as a disabled character, still being badass? It felt good. It boosted my confidence for me to keep going. I had so much metal in my leg it caused pain that left me bedridden and using a wheelchair and cane. Many a time I wish they’d chopped my leg off.

I see a lot of myself in Izzy. I swear, he has the traits of an Aries with his anger and intense emotions. This man feels deeply for those who cares for, even though at first this seemed to just be Edward. Despite the hardened shell, he’s a romantic at heart. I’m very much the same.

That hardened shell is also a form of masking to me. In my opinion, and in my own headcanon for this roleplaying blog, Israel is neurodivergent and suffered sexual assault on ships when he was young. It’s part of the reason he has bowel issues. He had to force himself to put on that rough motherfucker mask in order to protect himself. I was bullied mercilessly in school. When I started middle school, I decided to align myself with the “bad kids” as a form of protection. Guess what? Part of myself was masking I was a bad ass, part of myself became the badass I was masking to be after years of torture.

Also. I am transmasculine. I’m pre-HRT. But to me, Izzy is very transmasc coded. This was even confirmed by Con himself when a transmasc fan at Supercon brought the conversation up. I’d just like to say again how much I adore him for supporting the trans community, particularly transmascs who often are glanced over.

Then David Jenkins, a straight man, that swore he wouldn’t fall into the kill your gays trope did exactly that. So let’s exclude here the thought that this is possibly a dream state, or even that he might be resurrected by Buttons as a zombie or ghost which I fucking hope not. We’re talking about my initial feelings. Now it felt like they were setting him up to be killed but I said oh no Jenkins wouldn’t do that to us. He promised he wouldn’t.

Guess what?! He fucking did. Not only that, he murdered off the disabled, gay, transmasc coded character after giving him the most beautiful character arc of any character on the show. You can have a gay pirate rom com, you can understand some characters can get hurt, but killing someone as a means to advance plot? Fuck you. Also, the fact that Izzy apologized to his ABUSER?! As if the victim blaming and shaming wasn’t enough for Izzy Hands, which I see plenty of still, that’s fucked up on so many levels.

So to me I watched a version of myself be murdered. It hit me in the hardest way imaginable. I cried for days. I’ve never been so attached to a character in my 38 years of existence. I’m sick and tired of people saying they like his redemption arc. Izzy never needed redemption. He just needed one, single, person to tell him that he was loved and cared about.

So voicing that I felt betrayed and that I no longer trust Jenkins got me nothing but vitriol. Then toward the end of the day, he made a tweet about how there’s no version of the show without Izzy and had the comments turned off. He knows what he did. And then in the FB groups, if you dared say you were upset that day, requoted Jenkins, you’re a horrible person? Right. I didn’t start attacking the writers. I just said I’m betrayed and I can’t trust what I thought was my comfort show. Because of that, I got hate.

As much as I’d like to believe Izzy will return, the interviews David has done post season 2 talking about his character give me little hope. It’s like he just stabbed every fan in the back. Id like to think the rushed finale is really a dream sequence or gravy basket deal. Id like to think that Izzy will come back thanks to Buttons. But now I just don’t trust David Jenkins.

And if you dare voice this opinion anywhere but Our Flag Means Daddy and Twatter, you get attacked. So here goes. Thanks for my TED talk.

[braintapes]

I'm deeply fascinated by takes that are very staunchly against the WAU because on the one hand, I completely understand the revulsion. The disgust. The WAU’s creations are, to human sensibilities, nightmare creatures only barely recognizable as 'once human.' The WAU's creations and modifications spit and trample on human memory as we generally think of it.

On the other hand...Humanity is so thoroughly obliterated in SOMA's setting that I don't think it's enough to kill the WAU on those grounds. Is what it's doing fucked up? Yes! But is it ultimately that different from the survival instinct of any animal? Is it that different from human instinct, to want to preserve and continue life at all costs? When it's what human hands created the WAU to do?

Humans are such a tiny proportion of all life. We're practically a footnote in every way to the planet Earth in terms of timescale. When you zoom out, the WAU strikes me as akin to, say, the first single-celled organism in the primordial soup.

It's a different form of life. A new form of life, perhaps. One that could grow and evolve over time in ways we can't imagine.

Is that so wrong? Who are we, the last echoing fragment of humankind, to completely deny that life, simply on the grounds that it isn't us?

I think about the Think Tank from Fallout: New Vegas. They were human, once. In terms of physicality, though, they’ve existed as brains in jars for such a LONG ASS TIME that they’re repulsed and confused by human bodies. They find them strange and inferior, because they’ve been themselves so long that what they are is completely natural to them. From their point of view, they are the most evolved form of life, and humans are just another kind of animal.

Even though they themselves are still human brains.

I think that fear - the fear that we, humans, will be dethroned from our positions on high as the 'rulers' of the planet - is an extremely interesting one to play with. There’s a lot to explore when you unravel that thread. I think about humancentrism, how we relate to other species etc. You could also turn the macro-scale into the micro-scale, the personal. It’s the same fear a parent has when their kid grows up into a being completely alien to the parent’s understanding and which has made you, the parent, obsolete.

The world moves on past you, beyond you. Something greater than you will take your place and you will be washed away in the streams of time. It’s horrifying! It feels as fundamental and primal a fear to me as fear of death.

SOMA plays with this in such a fascinating way that I’ve never seen a game tackle elsewhere. Humanity is almost, ALMOST absolutely irrelevant in its world. The game is a death march, a funerary procession for an entire world and entire species. It asks you, who are you, in all of this? What meaning do you make of it all?

It asks a ridiculous amount of questions, some in plain text, some in subtext. But they’re always personal questions. SOMA doesn’t need your answer to get you to the next level. It simply asks you and leaves you to reflect on your answer. It’s a beautiful use of the concept of ‘choices’ in gaming that I love.

Your choices don’t affect the in-game world. Whether you kill the WAU or not, you don’t get to see the far-reaching effects of that choice. It doesn’t matter. You, the player. You, Simon. You simply won’t be there to see those effects. All you can do is look within yourself, imagine yourself in these worlds, and ask yourself what feels right to you.

SOMA doesn’t have correct answers, either. It would be easy to wave that off as trying to seem deep without having to come down concretely on anything but I don’t believe it’s done half-assedly here. The game gives ONE concrete answer about what it thinks of the human condition:

You will always strive for hope. In the most absurd, almost comedically horrific conga line of atrocity thrown your way, you will cling to hope with bleeding fingers and chase it to the very, very end. Even when that hope is so fleeting so as to be almost nothing at all. This, SOMA says, is the fundamental nature of humans.

...And I’m just now realizing this post got waaaay away from my original point. On the macro-scale, the WAU is a progenitor of life imo. We have no way of knowing what kind or how it will grow or even if it will survive. On the micro-scale, it’s almost irrelevant to us, our journey, Simon’s journey. The choice to kill it, then, comes down to revenge. Do you spite it for what it’s done? Is what it’s done so horrific you want to stab it back?

I understand why people would. Personally, though, I can’t bring myself to cut it down when it carries such potential with it.

[vampirebutterflies]

15 Questions!

tagged by the shrimply fantastic @not-nervous-jester (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*)

1. Were you named after anyone?

…my first name is partially after a dog. yeah.

A show dog that my paternal grandparents bred and showed, so not just some random pet, but still. A dog. At least my full first name slaps so it’s not that bad.

I share a middle name with my paternal grandma not the biggest fan but I digress and I’ll be changing that to one of my chosen names (Asteroid) to keep the initial but also make it Mine yk? Orig just is Not the vibe for me. And also I keep forgetting if it’s spelled with or without an e (it’s without lmao)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Two days ago! I absolutely fucking hate crying and it’s taken me until the last few months to really. Be able to more freely. ‘Cause I’d repressed it all so heavily that I just straight up couldn’t 😌 My beloved beef is very patient and very kind in helping me though

3. Do you have kids?

Nope and absolutely never thanku very much

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Me? Sarcastic? Never! Can’t believe you’d ever think that

(……/s)

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Honestly? Visual appearance, I’m very quick to pick up on anything interesting like tattoos or piercings or what they’re wearing or their hair or eyes / mouth / makeup or jewellery etc etc. Not in a judgemental way at all, I just really like looking at people ??? that sounds weird. it is a lil weird. that’s fine it’s not mean or gross weird. I’m very much a complimenter too so if there’s something I like about you or what you’re wearing or if you’re just. really really pretty etc I’ll just. Say it

Online is probably things like your own lil spelling and grammar things (like u or you or if you capitalise stuff) and if you come across as kind / kinda dickish. Also your ✨aesthetic✨ if there’s one available to be perceived

6. What’s your eye colour?

Dark green?? Green-hazel?? Not to be that annoying person but truly struggled answering this for my photo ID card— asking four people got four different responses from dark blue to brown and they’re absolutely Neither of those so like. Shrug. Whatever you wanna call this one

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I’m an absolute lily livered pussy assed lil baby WIMP so scary things can be very very good and very fun HOWEVER I’ll be making distressed noises and hiding behind a pillow and jumping and flap stimming when it gets even a lil too much

8. Any special talents?

god I wish uhhhhh floristry maybe? Not to toot my own doot but some of the pieces I turned out were fucking BANGERS

9. Where were you born?

I fell to this planet during a meteor shower, I was barely formed with no one but the worms and beetles for company until my parents unearthed me from the dirt after the fae requested their assistance in finding me

jk I was evicted in a hospital about half an hour away from here

10. What are your hobbies?

uhhhhhh running my damn mouth, thrifting and upcycling, amateur photography, silly lil outfits and makeup looks(? Does that count?) I’m trying to get back into art as well??

11. Do you have any pets?

Yes!! Technically Diva’s the only one who’s Mine tm everyone else is family owned but two cats (Brave— 3yo rescue fluff, and Diva— 11yo Burmese), two dogs (Tripp and Chia) and a yellow budgerigar called Chicken or Special Budgie

12. What sports do you play / have you played?

*horrified noises*

I played volleyball and netball in school though that wasn’t the worst

13. How tall are you?

5’2. on a good day. 🥺

14. Favourite subject in school?

English, science and art (specifically visual art and wearable art in highschool)

15. Dream job?

Is “pretty twunky femboy faggot living the dream with lots of people adoring me and giving me lots and lots of money just for looking pretty and being fun” an option? If so how do I get there and where do I sign up

That aside. I’d absolutely fucking love to work at the museum doing science communication and conservation work!!!! Particularly I’d love to specialise in the space / minerals / animals / plants / natural sciences sections. Absolute dream absolute goal

also because I’m not necessarily like smart enough to actually Work In Those Research Fields and that’s fine!! I’m glad about that because it means far less Huge Gigantic Super Smart Studying but there’ll always be a need for conserving and protecting materials and communicating all the super smart shit into Normal People Understanding yk??

Tagging: @chupacactus @nofeelingisfinall @turtles-on-turts @eye-scream-girls @blackbeardskneebrace @cononeills @ipomoea-batatas @enbiosaur no obligation as always 💕💕

[fruitcoops]

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing.  “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

[cosmicjoke]

Ah, and now onto one of the most depressing chapters in all of SnK, chapter 132.

You know, if anyone ever needed a reason to despise Floch any more, how about the fact that he’s literally the reason Hange died?  If this bitch ass ho hadn’t shot the fuel tank of the plane full of holes, Hange wouldn’t have had to engage with the Titans to buy time for them to fix it, and they wouldn’t have died.  So, fuck you Floch.  I wish you’d suffered more before Mikasa finally ended your ass.

Well, anyway, what can I say about this chapter that hasn’t already been discussed?  Probably nothing, but I’ll try my best to give my observations anyway.

This really is Hange’s chapter, and Levi’s, in terms of putting a spot light on the importance of their relationship to one another.  

Hange’s sacrifice in this chapter is heartbreaking, it truly is, and such a major blow to everyone.  But to Levi most of all, and for so many reasons.

First of all, what stands out to me is the exchange between them, after Pieck tells Hange to stop being “gross”.  What I want to talk about here is when Hange asks Levi if he thinks their dead comrades are watching, and if he thinks they’ll be proud of what they do here today.  Levi tells Hange to stop talking like “him”, meaning of course Erwin.  This scene is just heart-wrenching, and part of that is, I think, because of Levi’s reaction to what Hange is saying.  He has, once again, such a weary, resigned looked on his face, and it’s because, I think, of the parallels he sees with Erwin.  I think Levi already knows, at this point, that Hange is going to die, in some way.  He recognizes the same, fatalistic bent to Hange’s mindset as he saw in Erwin, that day in Shinganshina, the same burden of guilt.  Just as Erwin began to bow and break under the weight of all the lives that had been lost under his command, Hange too is beginning to break, overcome by despair and hopelessness at what they perceive to be their failures.  Hange expresses this outright in the scene with Yelena, when Yelena tries forcing everyone to admit that Zeke was right, and Hange just resignedly agrees, saying that it was because of their failure to come up with a plan, because of their loss of hope, that Eren’s done what he has.  Of course, this isn’t true, just like Erwin blaming himself for the deaths of all those soldiers wasn’t based in any kind of truth.  But the sense of guilt is the same.  Hange blames themselves for what’s happening now, and they say this in front of everyone, including Levi.  And then Hange says what they do to Levi, about their dead comrades, and I think this must have been like the worst kind of deja vu to Levi, this kind of guilt driving Hange towards despair and hopelessness.  He tells Hange “Don’t you start talking like him, too...” because he can’t bear it.  He can’t bear to see his last, true friend succumb to the same fate as Erwin.

And then the Rumbling shows up, and Hange refuses for anyone else to engage with the Titans but themselves.  They tell everyone “I’m the one who led us here.  I pressed on, even at the cost of so many lives.  Time to face the music.”, and it’s Hange willingly taking on the role of martyr, the same one Levi had to help Erwin to accept for himself, in order to give their comrades a chance at victory.  Hange’s selflessness here is the definition of heroic.  True, unwavering conviction to what they believe is right.

But once again, similarly to Levi’s final push to help Erwin become the commander everyone believed him to be, Levi recognizes for Hange, in their final moment together, what it is they need.  He doesn’t try to stop Hange, doesn’t try to convince them against their chosen course of action, doesn’t cry out after them.  The same way Levi recognized in Erwin the way he was being crushed under the weight of his guilt, and understood how it would be a mercy and a salvation to make for him the decision to let go of his dream and die, Levi also recognizes in Hange that same burden and suffocating sense of guilt, and knows this is a decision Hange has made for themselves, their final absolution and ownership of their past choices, and that this is the thing Hange needs to relieve them of their burden.  A way for them to bear the burden of their past choices without regret.  Hange implores Levi to let them walk away and do this, and Levi does, because he understands, the same as he understood with Erwin.

But we finally see in full view the consequences for Levi in making these decisions, in letting his two, closest friends go to their deaths for the sake of their cause.  Levi’s expression in the following three panels is one of such unfathomable heartbreak.  He looks like a man utterly resigned to losing every good thing in his life, conscious and accepting of life’s bitter injustice and the grief of loss, but no less affected by it.  Levi is in so much obvious pain here.  Not physical (though obviously there’s that), but emotional and mental.  Hange is it for him.  They’re his last, real connection, his last, true friend, his last person.  And he has to let them go here.  Both for the sake of humanity, and for Hange’s own sake as well.  It truly is the bitterest pill to swallow.  And once again, it is a desperately heartbreaking display of Levi’s own selflessness, that he lets Hange go, that he lets Hange do this thing that needs to be done, without complaint, without protest, without influence from his own feelings, sacrificing once more what would be best for him for the sake of everyone else.  Levi looks devastated as he lays his fist against Hange’s chest and tells them “dedicate your heart”.  This final acceptance of his own, tragic loss, and Hange’s own choice to sacrifice their life.

And it continues when Hange flies away, at last, and we see Levi standing with the rest of their group.  Everyone around Levi has expressions of shock, dismay, and disbelief.  They haven’t yet accepted that this is happening, that Hange is flying to their death to buy them the time they need.  They look astonished and horrified.  But Levi is the lone exception.  He doesn’t look shocked, or disbelieving, but only continues to carry that same expression of weary, despairing resignation and acceptance.  And I think what we see in Levi, in this final arc is, in many ways, the culmination of a lifetime of loss and grief.  Levi’s lost more than probably any other character in SnK.  He’s experienced the most extreme forms of poverty and depravation from the time he was born, and with the death of Hange, has now lost every, single person that he ever formed any kind of close bond with.  With Hange’s death, Levi is left finally, completely alone.  And the look of defeat on Levi’s face throughout this entire arc is, I think, reflective of the affirmation he must feel, of the cruelty and injustice of life’s indifference to the suffering of everyone.  Every experience in Levi’s life has driven home to him the lesson, again and again, of the unfairness and cruelty of existing in this world.  And the events of this final arc, Eren’s betrayal, Zeke’s manipulations and cruelties, the deaths of so many comrades, the Rumbling, violence and destruction and allies turning against one another, and finally, Hange’s death, can only solidify for him the hopeless cynicism he’s fought against all his life, the awful comprehension of life’s brutality.  With Hange’s death, Levi is made to face once more what he’s always, deep down, known, which is that to exist in this world is to suffer with no purpose.  

And yet, still, Levi fights on.  He accepts Hange’s death with all the pain the loss crushes him down with.  He tells Hange goodbye, and asks them to “Just watch us.”.  Because even with the affirmation of all of Levi’s greatest despairs, he still finds a reason to make the fight worth it.  To realize the dream they all fought for, the salvation and future of humanity, and through the realization of that dream, to give meaning and importance to the lives of all those who have died in that dreams name, and meaning and importance to the lives of those yet still there.  Levi refuses, still, to give up, refuses to accept the futility and insignificance of people’s lives, even as he’s so ruthlessly reminded again and again of it.  And it’s in Hange, I think, that Levi finds that strength.  Because Hange also refused to give up.  Like they told Floch as he bled out, “We still can’t give up.  Even if we fail here, now, maybe someday...”  Maybe someday, life really will get better.  Maybe someday, people won’t have to suffer so much.  Maybe someday, there really will be a point to all of it.  Even in the face of total despair, Hange and Levi both found reasons to keep fighting.

Also, just some smaller observations about Levi’s physical state, and what it also says about his determination to not give up, but also about his perception of himself.

Levi is doing BAD here.  I didn’t notice this on my first read through, but when they’re all gearing up with their ODM gear, Levi is the only one sitting down on a crate, while everyone else is standing.  We see earlier in the chapter, when he leaves his room on the boat, he can’t even stand without the support of a handrail on the upper deck, or Armin’s arm around his shoulders.  And then when we see him testing his grip on the handle of his ODM’s blade, his hand is visibly shaking.  Levi’s physically too weak to stand on his own at this point, too weak to even hold his blades steady.  He must be in absolutely horrific pain.  Probably dizzy and lightheaded, probably nauseas even.  He’s FAILING physically.  On the verge, it seems, of collapse.  The fact that he’s even up and making the effort to move is something of a miracle, let alone that he’s prepared to engage in intense, physical combat, which just a short time later, he DOES.  That’s remarkable, and such a testament to Levi’s incredible will and unwavering conviction to fight for humanity.  He’s dying.  I think literally, he’s extremely close to death, genuinely frail.  But he still is ready and willing to give his all.  I think, over the course of the few chapters before this one, it must have been horrifically hard for Levi to sit by and watch as everyone else risked their lives to fight.  This isn’t something Levi is used to, being helpless and unable to fight for others.  He isn’t used to letting others take the risk while he stays back.  When Levi comes out of his cabin and Armin tries to convince him to go back to bed, Levi snaps with impatience that if he keeps resting, they’re all going to forget he even exists.  This reveals a lot about Levi’s perception of himself as someone who needs to make himself useful in order to matter.  As a tool to utilize.  He feels useless and like dead weight if he isn’t able to fight, and so, even on deaths door, he pushes himself to do just that, to become a weapon to be used in the coming battle.  It’s heartbreaking, to see Levi regard himself this way, even as it proves his incredible devotion and heart.  Once again, his own well being takes a backseat to the cause of others.  His health is secondary, in his mind.  For someone who always shows so much compassion and kindness and understanding for others, it makes it doubly heartbreaking, to see that Levi can’t manage the same compassion for himself, can’t give himself a break, or a pass for his weakness.  That he can’t allow himself that vulnerability, or for others to fight for him, even as all his life, he’s done nothing but fight for others.  

[phoenixyfriend]

That One Fucked-Up Rexwalker AU

OKAY so people showed interest in this! Cool! This is... actually you know what, yeah, this falls into dead dove territory. It's kind of angst with a happy ending? At the very least it's hurt/comfort.

Warnings: rape as psychological torture by an enemy party, later dubious consent by parties that are at least trying to make it consensual but the situation makes it difficult to navigate

This was inspired partially by the first chapter of this collection by @the-writing-mill, which features Obi-Wan getting absolutely railed by a fucking machine set up by droids who don't understand consent. I got to thinking about the set-up and slid sideways into a slightly different context.

So Anakin, in all his shitty luck, gets captured, as one does. Whoever captures him has strict instructions to avoid physically damaging him or permanently fucking up his connection to the Force, because they'd like to use him as a weapon eventually, but to play around with his psychological damage in whatever way suits.

We'll say it's Ventress, who vastly prefers horrifying physical damage for torture, or killing/hurting people's loved ones in front of them, and now has to get creative to deal with Skywalker, because for whatever reason, she only managed to get Anakin and not any of his friends.

Obviously, Palpatine is the one saying 'don't damage the good.' She doesn't know that, though, just that Dooku said His Sith Master said to leave Skywalker intact for later.

So the easy route to psychological damage is, well, rape. But she's not into him, and there aren't really any other sentients in her little torture castle, but last she checked Skywalker is really needy? She's picked up on the fact that this guy really loves Having people.

She handles it: strip him down, strap him down, and get a fucking machine involved. Naked and cold and with a pipe leaking from the ceiling. Let a protocol droid keep an eye on things so he doesn't have some kind of permanent physical damage, but basically just have him unceasingly fucked for like a week, sometimes edging and sometimes forcing and sometimes just really digging into the oversensitivity, whether he's awake or asleep or what. Nothing but air and metal, and sometimes Ventress when she comes by to taunt him. There's magic involved to up his sexual craving without making it any easier on him.

It's fucked up but he does get saved! Eventually!

Ventress did her job, didn't enjoy it, and doesn't care that he's gone. She has people to kill, okay, she's bored.

So, you know, Anakin needs time to recover. He doesn't try to argue that he doesn't, at least partly because he's having trouble standing. He'll be fine! Stop worrying, guys! It's fine!

It's not fine, everyone tells him, because that was fucked!

It takes a while to get back to Coruscant. It's normally a few days, but there's a disruption on the hyperlane they'd use, sooooooo they're stuck.

Anakin tries to make some calls to Padme. When the calls connect, she helps. Obi-Wan was part of the rescue team, so he's there to do what he can, but Anakin keeps flinching away. Ahsoka is helpful because Anakin's hindbrain reads her as Not A Threat, but nobody's telling her what kind of torture Anakin was dealing with, because she's Designated Baby.

Anakin is alternately overwhelmed by physical touch and craving it, and the fact that he just got the Force back isn't helping.

(It later comes to light that the reason he flinches from Obi-Wan and Ahsoka is because they've got the Force and a person with the Force approaching for that week meant Ventress, and that's--not great. And it's just a LOT and REALLY BRIGHT after his time in the Force-nullifying cuffs.)

So Anakin spends a lot of time alone, craving people while being deeply unnerved by the ones he's most able to ask for that sort of thing (his master and padawan). Rex is one of a handful of clones that volunteer to check in on Anakin until they get to Coruscant. He's not the only one who walks in on Anakin shifting uncomfortably and looking red in the face, but he's the one that actually asks about it.

Anakin, with some prodding, does not admit to the problem. He does, however, admit to a different problem, and asks if Rex would be okay with a hug, or maybe putting an arm around Anakin's shoulder, or--actually, no, this is stupid, forget he said anythi-- Rex sits down next to him and pulls Anakin into his side and just lets Anakin relax into him.

Anakin starts shivering. Shuddering. Crying, after a while. Rex lets it happen and tries not to panic, just rubs an hand up and down Anakin's arm.

They don't really talk about it, but Anakin does end up cuddling with Rex for a few hours a day while they try to get everyone home, and Anakin's kind of on enforced medical leave, so he can't really help until Obi-Wan comes up with a solution that gives Anakin a job directly.

Rex finally gets an answer to why Anakin keeps looking uncomfortable and close to tears but embarrassed about it. He doesn't, for the record, press for that answer. Instead, he accidentally walks in on Anakin three fingers deep in his own ass and whining into his pillow.

Which is. Awkward.

Obviously.

Turns out whatever Ventress did to him has him feeling incredibly empty without something to plug him up! It sucks! He hates it! He's been trying very hard not to submit to this need, but it's still there and he needs to be filled up and just snapped and had to do something about it!

This is, as you can imagine, not a comfortable conversation for anyone, but Rex tries to cheer him up with "Well, Jedi have stipends, right? You can probably find, uh, a toy, right? Once we're back on Coruscant? Or the Senator...?"

Anakin doesn't want Padme to know.

Anakin is also near tears but that's. Well. Rex is used to that by now.

(Anakin isn't using shipboard fabricators to make a dildo or plug because have fun explaining that on the expense report!)

So Rex is in this awkward position of having to comfort his recently-more-traumatized-than-before superior officer, whom he just walked in on furiously and tearfully masturbating due to said trauma...

And Rex is pretty much just like "Dude, please call your wife and have her talk you through the... whole... thing... I'm just, I think you'd probably feel less upset about having to fill yourself or whatever if she was talking you through it?"

They drop the subject for a bit, but Anakin is still Fucked Up in many ways, including new and exciting ones, and it turns out he hasn't been sleeping! And only sleeps if there's someone he trusts nearby!

So obviously Rex volunteers because fuck it, it's not like there's anything about his General he hasn't seen yet, right? So, yeah! Sleepy cuddles! Intended to be platonic!

Rex wakes up hard and flushed and with a very much still asleep Anakin grinding his ass against Rex's crotch.

Which, under significantly different circumstances, he'd not be upset by... But given literally everything going on, um. No?

Rex has no idea what to do, so he just kind of lays there and tries to shift away so his back is pressed to the wall and Anakin isn't accidentally trying to fuck himself in his sleep. Which works.

For about fifteen minutes.

And then Anakin is whining and shuffling back and Rex just tries to wake him up like Dude, You Don't Actually Want This, You Told Me You Don't Want This

And they separate and avoid each other and shower, and Rex leaves to go do Things while Anakin continues to try to meditate away what trauma he can before they get back to Coruscant for extremely long mandated therapy.

Rex shows up that evening to cuddle again, but Anakin tries to turn him away because He Can't Be Sexually Assualting His Friends In His Sleep, so he should honestly just sleep alone, right? Right, okay, bye Rex, Anakin is so sorry about this morning--

And Rex interrupts that he's not actually upset about it, he's just upset about Anakin being in this position, and Anakin doesn't actually want Rex so that's kind of upsetting, and Rex would be very open to this later after the war when they're not in a position to fuck up their entire legion with a change in dynamics--

And this goes back and forth for a bit before Rex realizes that Anakin does actually want him, and did before this whole Situation happened, and Anakin realizes that Rex is interested in him and NOT just trying to 'do his duty for his Jedi' or whatever.

And anyway, it turns into some very sweet lovemaking every night where Anakin gets to fall asleep with a cock in his ass, filled with cum, with Padme's blessing, until they get to Coruscant and he can find a plug for the nights they're not together (and also some therapy).

When Obi-Wan finds out they're fucking, he's actually furious and ALSO unsure of which one's taking advantage of the other.

Initially assumes Rex is taking advantage of Anakin's recent emotional traumas. Anakin protests that he asked Rex for this, and Obi-Wan is asking in horror if Anakin ordered one of the soldier under his command to do this, and it all just kind of goes very poorly.

Everyone means well. Nobody really succeeds at it.

[no-droids]

The Floor is Better

Part Eight of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4K i am. appalled.

Warnings: SMUT, very vague attempts at sprinkling in hints of an overarching plot, language, the slightest bit of angst, TONS OF FUCKING FLUFF WOWWWW

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve ever written.  I will say that there is a hint at butt stuff tho (just a HINT—THERE IS NO ACTUAL BUTT STUFF IN THIS GUYS) so brace yourselves

***

Alright so this bed is, like.  Atrociously uncomfortable.

It’s not even a bed.  It’s a cot.  Just a bare minimum place to sleep, shoved into the wall and taking up less space than the ship’s armory.  Like a… like a really shitty gurney almost, except no padding.  So not even a gurney then, just a fucking.  Piece of metal.  Just a piece of fucking metal to sleep on.

There’s surprisingly a bit of space to maneuver yourself when you’re pulled into the cubby completely like this, and yeah, it’s quiet and dark in here but man does your back hurt.  Is his spine made of metal, too?  Is that why he prefers this?  The floor isn’t a feather mattress by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there aren’t any uneven support bars digging into your side.

You’re on Coruscant, and Mando’s been gone for over three weeks.

It.  Fucking.  Blows.

You’ve literally run out of ideas to occupy your time.  You’re far enough above Coruscant’s dangerous underworld to not worry about any potential… mishaps, like what happened on Corellia, but the only issue with the ground being so far below you is that it’s not like you can just stroll down the road and buy yourself a deck of cards at the nearest merchant.  The only shop within walking distance of this hub contains the bare essentials; things like food, medical equipment and bacta, spare electronics and parts—all of which you purchased without hesitation.  Other than that, you need a ship to travel anywhere in this massive galactic capital, and while you just so happen to have a ship, what you don’t have, at least right now, is a Mando.

Fuck, but you did.  Before he left, you had Mando all to yourself for at least a full hour.  After he landed the Crest in a long-term terminal and turned his attention back to you, for some reason, he was insatiable.  It didn’t really make much sense back then, but in hindsight, it’s like he knew good and well how long he was going to be gone this time, attempting to search for a quarry on a planet with a population that broke a trillion last year.  It makes sense.  With this many people, a biometric tracking fob would be almost useless, and sure, you realize he set the ship down in the long-term terminal for a reason, but long-term with Mando typically means a week or two.  You suddenly realize that in a handful of days, he’ll have been gone a full month.

You suppose you probably could fly the ship somewhere else and send him a coded coordinate set of your new location, but for some strange reason, you can’t seem to reconcile going to all that trouble just because you’re bored out of your fucking mind.  You don’t want him to have to travel another however many miles out of his way to get back to you just so you won’t have to twiddle your thumbs for weeks on end.  You don’t want to run the risk of trying to make a quick trip there and back without alerting him of any change in location, either, especially on a planet this size.  He could return to the hub at any time, and if he comes back to a different ship parked in this lot, you’ll probably never see him again.

Okay, no, that’s not true—he hunts people for a living, and you have his kid.  You probably just wouldn’t see him for at least another month or so, and by then he’d be fucking livid.

So.  You stay here.  The baby offers a distraction, but only to a certain point.  The ship is pristine right now, inside and out.  Fucking pristine.  Almost… almost compulsively so, you reluctantly admit.  The console’s entire motherboard has brand new soldering and connections.  You used ear swabs to clean and polish each individual button, key, and knob in the entire flight deck.  You… may or may not have even labeled and color-coded the heat shrink wrap on every single cable in the Crest’s patchbay, all five-hundred and something of them.  When you pried open the metal paneling that covered all the ship’s interior routing jacks, you remember gasping at the sight of a mechanic’s worst nightmare and wondering if the last person who touched it took even more than a few hours on its installation.  What used to be a horrifying tangle of haphazard wiring is now a lovely set of rainbow snakes meticulously gathered and bound together with zipties, and you’re incredibly proud of it, though you still haven’t decided whether or not you should be.

There’s also a very particular reason you’re in this poor excuse for a bed.  You still very clearly remember Mando’s unfiltered voice in the pitch darkness, telling you he wants to come back to find you in his bed.  To find you in it, so he can fuck you though it.  

Well.  Three weeks ago, sleeping in here sounded like a good idea.  You even have a pillow now, and a blanket you can lay out beneath you while you curl up under the one you brought from home.  It’s thick and warm—probably a shock blanket, to be honest, since you did happen to find in the medical section—but it still doesn’t offer near enough padding to feel like you’re laying on an even surface right now.  Mando could theoretically get on top of you in here and fuck you—there is enough room vertically.  He might break one of your ribs on accident though, just judging from the way this one Maker-forsaken support bar seems to dig into your ribcage no matter which way you position yourself in here.

Stars, your back hurts.  You should just lay on the fucking floor.  If he hasn’t come back by now, what are the chances of it happening tonight?  But then your mathematical hindbrain immediately reminds you that statistically, the chances are the highest they’ve ever been.  The longer Mando’s gone, the more likely he is to come back every single day that passes.

It’s just as well, you figure, grabbing the tracks beneath the bed and slowly beginning to squeak yourself out of the wall.  You try not to let your fingers get pinched between the railing and the slider, but that just means the quickest you’re able to inch out is in intervals the approximate length of your index finger.  It’s dark in the hull—the baby is fast asleep in his crib in the cockpit, and the long-term terminal you’re parked in is quiet.  It would be a perfect time to sleep, if you could.  But here’s the thing—

It sucks that Mando’s gone for this long, absolutely.  It sucks that you slept on this awful fucking bed for three whole weeks when you could’ve done this ages ago.  But most of all, it sucks that you don’t have anything else to do.  Because that means you can’t occupy yourself, and when you can’t occupy yourself, your mind starts to wander.  And then you start to fixate on things you probably shouldn’t fixate on, for your own good.

Things like blood on your hands.  The baby limp in your arms.  A voice spitting, “pretty little bitch like you would sell for at least—”

Your eyes snap to the corner of the hull for the millionth time, the sight of where it happened, before you shake yourself out of it and hop down off the suspended cot.

“This’ll be good,” you whisper quietly in the darkness to yourself, pulling the blankets off and grabbing the pillow.  It’s… it’s something you’ve started to do when you need to instantly snap yourself out of a dreaded line of thinking but you don’t have anything stimulating around you to help.  Talk to yourself, talk about anything, just talk out loud and focus on the sound of your own voice.  If you listen hard enough, it’ll drown out your thoughts.  “The floor will be great.  The floor kicks ass.  I like the floor.”

You spread the fluffiest blanket down on the ground as far away from the offending corner as possible, and then close the much shittier metal bed into the hull wall before collapsing on your clearly superior one, never once ceasing your rambling nonsense about the floor.

Oh, this is nice.  This is fantastic.  Your back is still tight and achy from three awful weeks of sleeping on a “mattress” clearly made for someone with no concept of comfort, but being able to stretch out on a flat surface with a large shock blanket that feels like a fucking cloud under your body?  Your eyes are already starting to droop.

“The floor is better,” you whisper, yawning and snuggling deeper into the pillow.  The terminal is quiet.  The kid will be asleep for a while.  Mando won’t come back tonight.  Mando won’t come back tonight.  “The floor is better.  The floor… the floor…”

***

You jerk awake to something kicking your leg, hard.  

Gasping, you’re instantly pulling the blanket over your chest on reflex and bracing yourself for another impact, except then whatever kicked you is immediately toppling over your shins and stumbling to the floor with an unfamiliar grunt.

You and a man you don’t recognize blink at each other for a few seconds; him taking in the way you’re curled up on your makeshift bed, and you taking in the way he’s got his face squished against the metal ground, apparently not quick enough to use his arms to try and soften the abrupt tumble.

It’s like all your blood suddenly thickens and the adrenaline digs claws into your chest.  Your first instinct is to fucking bolt, but then your eyes instantly flick to the cockpit, where you know the kid is still sleeping.

Only—you can’t move.  You’re frozen in terror, quickly blinking your wide-eyed gaze back at the man on the ground.  You know you could’ve only been staring at each other for a few seconds at most, but with the way your mind is hurtling right now, it’s long enough for you to have just the briefest flicker of confusion as to why he hasn’t appeared to have moved either.

Except then another set of footsteps slowly begin clanking up the ramp.

Your heart is fucking slamming up against your ribcage at about the rate of four beats per footstep, but as soon as you catch a flash of beskar stepping onto the ship, you‘re reaching up to clutch your chest with your palm like you just finished a long-distance sprint and trying to take deep, calming breaths.

It’s just a quarry.  It’s just a quarry.  His hands are cuffed behind his back.  It’s a quarry.

The Mandalorian slowly comes to a stop right in front of your outstretched legs and the sharp angles of his chrome profile silently stare down at them, unmoving.  You swallow thickly and try not to blush as his helmet tilts towards you and follows your knees up to your hips, along your heaving abdomen and chest, before eventually coming to a rest on your face.

He holds there for a second, taking you in.  You bite down your lip and feel your heart thundering under your ribcage, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush in a boiling hot mixture of panic, embarrassment, and relief.

His metallic visor carefully follows the length of your body back down again, pausing once more at your feet.  

And then he sighs heavily through the modulator, loud enough to echo through the silent hull, before slowly stepping over them.

“Well, well,” the quarry says, stealing your attention with a sick smile creeping across half his face as it’s smushed against the floor.  “Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addit—?”

The bounty abruptly cuts off with a strangled yelp when Mando bends down and grabs him by the collar, yanking him to his feet and then shoving him forward towards the carbonite chamber.  

You collapse back down onto the floor with a relieved breath and try not to tremble with the adrenaline comedown.  Maker, you woke up barely a minute ago but almost all of it was spent in fight or flight—or in your case, freeze—mode, and you’re already fucking exhausted again.

“I’ll tell him—” you can hear the quarry snarl just before Mando slams him into the metal frame.  As much as you try to just tune the confrontation out for the moment and focus on slowing your heart rate, you still manage to catch bits and pieces.  “See him again… be interested to know…”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, counting to three during each inhale and exhale.  Fuck, that scared you.  You almost had a fucking heart attack, and it takes you a few seconds to get your body under control again.  But then you realize you haven’t heard anything from Mando’s side of the hub for an extended moment, and the carbonizing gas hasn’t yet filled the room.

Your head turns and if you squint from this distance, you can make out a leather glove clamped tight around the quarry’s throat, the man’s face a red-purple by this point as he sags weakly against the chamber.

“Mando!”  You bark quite suddenly, and beskar shoulders jerk straight at the sound as the bounty immediately takes in a giant, ragged breath from under a marginally loosened grip.  Mando quickly releases his neck altogether and punches in a few buttons on the control panel to the right, and then freezing gas soon solidifies the gasping quarry into solid carbonite.

He stays with his back to you for a moment, letting the cloud disappear completely before he moves a single muscle.  When he does eventually turn to look at you, he still doesn’t say anything.

He just stares.  The lights in the hull glint off his helmet, and you tug the blankets up your chest a little further on instinct.  Fuck, three weeks is a long time.  You’re defaulting in a way, finding it impossible to not reevaluate him after a long absence.  Before he left, you’d gotten a bit better at gauging his mood and countenance, been more relaxed and friendly around him, but now, after some time away from him, he’s still so… jarring.  Unpredictable, even when standing still.  Especially when standing still.  

You’re just trying to play it by ear, trying to respond to him the way he responds to you.  Only—it feels like he’s either not responding to you at all, or you’re just too rousing of a stimulus to show a response.

“You…” you breathe, and for some reason your heart rate is beginning to kick up again instead of decelerate.  You should be calmer now that he’s here, but he still hasn’t said a word.  “Y-You scared me.”

Mando stays rooted to the spot, just a motionless suit of armor, with the exception of his chest moving with breaths and his fists repeatedly clenching at his sides, and fuck.

Fuck, you’re wet.

You feel like prey right now.  You’re starting to gradually build into another fight or flight mode every second he’s staring you down, refusing to speak, but you also feel a stirring deep down in your floor muscles.  He’s so fucking tall from this angle, so broad and—

He steps a single foot forward.  You flinch at the abrupt movement, practically soaking your underwear now.  Mando takes another step forward, and you wet your lips and start to crawl back on the bed just a bit, staring at him with wide eyes.

Maker, the tension is making it hard to breathe.  You’re silently begging him to come take care of you after such an agonizing three weeks apart, and Mando’s body language looks like he’s more wound up than you’ve ever seen him.  He starts pacing directly to you, crossing the hull rapidly, and your heart thumps furiously with every step he takes.

But then he gets right to the edge of the blankets and suddenly stops short.  He looks down at the neatly made bed at his feet, and then down at his body.

You try not to make an audible huff of disappointment when he abruptly collapses down onto his back with a clatter right there on the floor, just a few inches shy of the blanket, immediately bringing the backs of both hands up to press against the face of his helmet.  It should look weird considering his knuckles are pushing hard against the visor, almost like he’s covering his eyes or has a headache but is rubbing the beskar instead of his forehead, but it doesn’t.  It just makes you want to rip that armor off his body even more and remind him again of what his skin feels like.

“What are you doing?”  You try not to make it sound like a breathless pout as you squirm impatiently under the blankets.  “Come over here.”

“I’m dirty,” is the first thing that comes through the modulator, gravelly and distorted but his voice burning a fucking hole through you after not hearing it for almost a month.  “I need to shower before I touch you.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes you throb hard between your legs.

“Will you please just…” you bite your lip, stopping yourself short of saying take your clothes off and go with, “please, just—hurry.  I’m…”

Maker, you don’t know how to say it, and Mando soon rolls his helmet to the side to look at you when you don’t finish your sentence.  Desperate for it?  Hurting?  Feeling your clit pulse right now even though he hasn’t laid a finger on you yet?

“I missed you,” you eventually finish lamely, breathless as you fidget and bite your lip.

“Yeah?”  He breathes, suddenly turning the rest of his body on his side to face you.  “Tell me.”

“I… I want to show you,” you return quietly, scooting closer towards him.  “But you’re being withholding.”

Mando doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the front of his visor burns into you, steadily increasing your need for him the longer he silently stares at you.

“Show me, then,” he says after a moment, and the sentence rolls through you with a shudder.

You swallow thickly, and slowly start to pull the blanket down.  It’s unnerving that his helmet doesn’t move, even though you can literally feel his gaze lowering and searing hot along your newly revealed body.  You’re not even naked, not in the slightest, but with the way his shoulders tighten and his spine tenses just slightly, you would think you were completely exposing yourself to him right now.

“Do you want…”  Your fingers waver near your belly button, caught somewhere between wanting to pull the hem of your shirt up for him and wanting to pull the waistband of your pants down.  “What do you want to see?”

A breath comes through the helmet; slow, but shaky.

“I have to shower,” he grunts sharply, suddenly, his fist clenching at his side.  You don’t take offense to the stern tone.  He’s clearly repeating the sentence as a reminder to himself, not to you.

“You can get me dirty,” you breathe regardless.  “I don’t care.”

“I just spent three weeks on Coruscant’s surface,” Mando grits.  “I can’t touch you, I’ll infect you with someth—What are you doing?”

You bite your lip at him as an answer, bypassing your prior conflict altogether by slithering your hand down the front of your pants.

“What are you doing?”  He repeats through the modulator, just as your fingertips wedge underneath the hem of your panties.  

You shiver at the sensation, your eyes losing focus just slightly as you trail down the front of your pussy.  “I… I missed you.”

“Fuck,” Mando barks, and then he scrambles to stand up.  “Stop.  I’m taking a shower, just—just stop.”

You ignore him, turning on your back and widening your knees so he can still see the way your hand is still moving down between your legs, your finger just barely brushing the top of your slit.  “But it feels good.” “Take your hand out of your fucking pants,” he orders tightly.  “Right now.”

Your eyes flutter up at him as you do what he says, slowly bringing your hand out of your trousers.  “Hurry,” you murmur, biting your lip and blinking innocently up at him.  “Please.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his cape does make an audible sound with how quickly he whips around and shuts himself away in the tiny fresher.

***

You forget how long it takes to undo the beskar armor sometimes.  In fact, throughout the entire duration of Mando’s shower, you’re able to quietly sneak up to the cockpit and navigate the ship out of the terminal, pull up the coordinates for the next quarry on the navcomp while rising to a high enough altitude above the galactic capital, make a jump into hyperspace, return to the hull, shut off the lights, and slither back under the covers before the fresher actually turns off.

Soon, Mando raps his knuckles against the door separating the two of you, and you’ve completely wiggled out of your clothes by that point, the blanket resting just below your naked waist.  “Hey,” his unmodulated voice calls from behind the thick slab of metal.  “Eyes closed for a second.”

“I’m not looking,” you agree, draping your elbow across the bridge of your nose and waiting patiently.  He gives you a few seconds regardless before the door is sliding open.  You expect it to quickly shift shut again, plunge the room back into pitch blackness like before, but he hesitates.  It takes another moment for you to realize that he’s probably just staring at your naked chest while he stands there in the doorway, light spilling into the hull and illuminating you waiting for him with your eyes obediently shut.

“I thought I told you not to sleep on the floor anymore,” he murmurs after a quiet second, and you bite your lip and shuffle your shoulders impatiently against the floor, arching your chest out just slightly to entice him to come closer.

“Fuck that bed,” you breathe with your arm still pressed over your eyes, and your nipples feel tight in the cool air.  “Your armory is bigger than that bed, Mando.  Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah,” he returns, finally shutting the fresher light off and shifting the door shut behind him, beginning to make his way over to you.  “Tells me that there are more guns than people on this ship, as well it should be.”

“Maker, you’re impos—”

You’re cut off by Mando dropping to his knees and slowly crawling over your body, and fuck he’s as naked as you are, he’s naked and his skin is warm and damp from the shower and his hair is still dripping as you slither your arms up his chest and comb your fingers through it.

You can’t see a damn thing but you’re instantly thanking your lucky stars for that fact when his head drops down and a hot tongue drags up the curve of your neck.  Okay, this is better.  This is always better.  Even when you can’t see a damn thing, feeling the hollow of your jaw be caressed by a blazing wet furnace and tugging your fingers through his hair will always be better than when he keeps the helmet on.  Maker, you almost forgot how fucking good his mouth is, how soft and warm it is, and you can’t bite down a whimper when his lips finally trail up your chin and seal against yours.

You moan when his tongue gently slides into your mouth, unable to stop yourself as your cunt fucking throbs between your legs with arousal, and Mando even lets out a short huff of air through his nose and a low noise quietly slips through his vocal cords as he tastes you.  The barely audible sound is enough gasoline to your fire that you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his lower back before tugging, wanting his cock pressed against your cunt so you can rub yourself against it while he kisses you.

Only, something in the way Mando’s elbows immediately buckle and the hiss of air through his teeth before he unceremoniously collapses on top of you makes you instantly let him go.

“Hey,” you say, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck and puff a short few breaths of hot air against your skin.  “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” he grunts, sounding somewhere between discomfort and legitimate pain, moving to prop his arms up next to your head again but taking a moment before trying to push himself up.  “Back.  Back hurts.  Too—” he winces when his shoulder moves a certain way, “—too old for this.”

“Here.”  There’s just enough space between you and Mando to wiggle out from underneath him, quickly turning around and swinging a leg over his back as he abruptly drops to the floor with the extra weight.  “Let me rub your back.”

“Shit—come on,” he groans against the blankets.  “I haven’t touched you in three fucking—”

Your hands trail up his spine, slow and gentle, and Mando cuts himself off.  He shudders under your palms as they carefully push and roll into the small of his back, and the muscles curving down under your touch gradually rise as he breathes in a lungful of air.  “Let me rub your back,” you repeat softly, letting your voice lull just a bit in a lower register, and all the air immediately releases from under your hands.

“Okay,” he relents, but his spine still holds straight and tight with tension.

“Okay?”  You repeat, dragging your palms back up until they’re roughly in the middle of his spine.  “Tell me if I go too hard.”

Mando barely huffs with a chuckle beneath you.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell you if—nghh—”

You dig your knuckles into the dip right beneath his shoulder blades and start kneading, and Mando makes a strangled noise and sags into the floor.  Your smile is almost impossible to hide, but the pitch black hull does the job just fine as you press and roll your knuckles into the hills and valleys of his back.  The noises he makes are a mixture of soft gasps and chokes, but it gives you the perfect opportunity to explore his body in ways you haven’t been able to before.

Your thumbs you dig in and follow the curve of his spine down, squeezing through the tightness in his lower back.  The skin under your hands is soft and giving, even though you can feel massive knots hidden underneath.  You take all the time in the galaxy with it, isolating each ache and pain and then grinding your knuckles into them steady and hard enough to make Mando groan brokenly under the pressure.  You work at it for a while, trailing your fingers up to his neck and massaging the base of his skull, not being able to imagine how much those muscles have to hurt after holding up a heavy beskar helmet every single day.  Your hands explore everything you can from this angle—you squeeze the tops of his shoulders, slide your palms down and squeeze his biceps, the muscles under his elbows, the ones wrapped around his forearms.

“This alright?”  You ask after a while, and you barely get a hoarse grunt from him in response.  His body is perfectly relaxed under yours, almost dead if he wasn’t still breathing, and you slowly walk your hands down the length of his back until you’re braced upright on him once more.  “You gonna make it?”

Eventually, he drags his forearms up so he can prop them against the blankets and slowly roll over underneath you.  You allow the lazy movement, lifting your hips up as he rotates, feeling his smooth skin shift under your palms until he finally comes to a rest on his back.

“My turn?”  He asks through the darkness.

“Your turn for wh—?”  You gasp as his grip instantly tightens, and then he’s abruptly switching your positions until he’s on top of you.  Almost all of your breath is knocked out of you when Mando grabs you and flips you over until you’re on your tummy, and then whatever remains suddenly whooshes out when he straddles you and plops down on your lower back.

“My turn to give you a massage,” he says, and you let out a quiet, “fuck—” when his palms land on your shoulders.

“Wait—” You pant, “—Wait, hang on, I don’t need a—”

Thank the fucking Maker you turn your head quick enough to muffle a loud moan when his fingers begin rubbing hard circles into your deltoids.  Stars, sleeping on hard metal for three weeks was truly a nightmare for your posture.  The knots in your upper back burn under the steady push and press of his touch, and it’s like your muscles can’t decide if they want to relax under the manipulation or tense up against it.

“Maker,” he murmurs, his thumbs frame either side of your spine and slowly drag downwards, and your voice almost cracks as you hide another groan in the pillow.  “Why does your back hurt?  What did you do to yourself?” “I slept—” you gasp when his knuckles roll up the length of your sides.  “Slept—on that piece of fucking scr-scrap metal—you call a—” his fingers press firmly against the valley below your shoulder blades, and then widen apart to start squeezing your arms, “—a bed for three weeks,” you manage to gasp, sparks of sensation shooting down to your fingertips as he rubs the muscles along the length of your biceps.

Soon, Mando’s hands come back down to rest on the small of your back, and he begins digging his thumbs into the base of your spine.  “Why did you do it for so long if it hurt?”

“You said—” You cut off with a moan into the pillow as he slowly scoots back until he’s sitting on your thighs, his hands moving downwards and kneading the soft flesh of your ass, pressing deep into the sore muscles while you struggle to remember what you were going to say.  “Said you wanted me to sleep in y—”

His thumbs start slowly moving inwards, his large hands butterflying out along both cheeks and squeezing.  He spends a second just grabbing and pulling your pillowy flesh, shamelessly spreading you and manipulating it until you’re throbbing between your legs again.  He’s being so brazen about it, too, gradually moving his thumbs closer and closer together until they’re digging into the crevice.

“Hey, uh,” you pant, starting to tense up a bit as his thumbs begin moving downwards.  “Ma—h-hey, you’re getting really… close to m-my…”

His hands keep steadily moving down, and you’re starting to squirm just a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s fingers pressing and kneading the unexplored skin between your cheeks.  

“Getting real close to your what?”  He drawls out from above you, low in his throat, and your cunt pulses with need.

Fuck, you’re gasping raggedly into the pillow, wondering if the absence would truly make him this bold.  You’re halfway caught between nervousness and being incredibly fucking turned on, and the way he pauses right above your asshole and just holds there makes your the muscles deep in your lower abdomen twist in anticipation and heat.  Fuck, you’re soaking the blankets beneath you, you can tell.  A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your body and it’s all you can do to just lay there and wait for it with bated breath.

But then his weight is suddenly lifting from you and sliding down the length of your legs, settling at your feet.  You barely have enough time to let out a deep sigh—half of it relief and the other half… disappointment, maybe?—before he grabs hold of one of them, the size of it only slightly bigger than his hand, and firmly presses both thumbs into your arch.

A groan of approval slips through your vocal cords and you go practically boneless underneath him, not realizing how tense you just were a second ago.

“Fuck, that’s s-so good,” you murmur into the pillow, grabbing the blankets at your sides and fisting them subconsciously as he clamps his large hand around your heel and squeezes.

After spending just as much time and attention on the other foot, you feel him grip both your ankles and start working circles up the length of your calves with his thumbs.  His hands flex against the backs of your knees when they get there, and then your breathing kicks back up again when they gradually drag up your subtly clenching thighs.

But then they come to an immediate halt about halfway up, and you have to bite back a huff of distress when he just holds there.  Fuck, why did he stop?  Why did he stop?

“Sweet girl,” he eventually breathes out, sounding somewhere between chastising and shocked.  Your eyes flutter in the darkness at the tone, the endearment after nearly a month without it, and you wiggle slightly on the bed with arousal.  “Is this…?”  Mando brushes his fingers along the inside of your thighs, and you can feel the way his cock pulses as he presses it tight against your leg.  It’s not until he drags his hand down to your calves that you feel the slick heat coating the tips of his fingers, wiping it off on your relatively dry skin.

The pitch blackness makes it impossible to truly tell, but you’re sure your eyes roll back.  Stars, you are so wet for him, you’re leaking it halfway down your thighs.  It’s been too long since he’s touched you.  You can feel your lower muscles bearing down and coiling tight, your entire pelvic area now cramped up with need.

When his hand carefully moves up and a finger just barely ghosts over the soft flesh of your lips, you can’t stop yourself.

“Touch me,” you hear yourself suddenly beg, goosebumps breaking out along your skin while he begins to slowly trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down.  “Oh, fuck—please, Din, touch me, I—”

“Hush,” he tells you softly, and fuck, he’s on top of you and you physically can’t do anything to encourage him to hurry up.  The only thing you can do is kick one leg out as wide as possible and just shudder helplessly against the floor, trying to give his hands more room to work.

You feel desperate, your blood pounding through your ears as he takes all the time in the universe exploring you.  “Stars, don’t do this—I need you to—”

“Hush,” he murmurs once more, before moving both fingers to spread your lips apart ever so slightly, your slick heat seeping out to coat his fingers and the blanket below.  “Relax for me.”

Maker, your lower muscles are tightening down and throbbing in equal parts, and you just can’t relax, you can’t relax when you’re this close to cumming all over his hand even though he’s barely touched you.  You’ve been aching for it this whole time, but now there’s a bite to it, a slow burn that begins to engulf the lower half of you in simmering heat.  “Din, please, I missed you so m—”

You choke when you feel the slightest brush of a fingertip next to your clit, before he’s firmly pushing down and tracing a torturously strong semi-circle around the top of it.

Your toes curl and your body locks up and you gasp his name into the pillow, flexing every single muscle in your body in response to his touch until you’re impossibly rock hard with tension under him.

“Poor thing,” Din whispers, slowly tracing an arch back around the other way, and your entire body trembles with it.  Maker, you’re soaking his hand, slippery and hot and every nerve from the waist-down feels sharp and exquisite at the same time.  He leans down to press his lips to your shoulder blade while starting to rub strong circles around your clit.  “All alone for three weeks, nobody around to look after you.  Make sure you’re seen to.”

You’re not sure which way is up right now, and not being able to see anything isn’t fucking helping either.  You feel dizzy with sensation, shaky as his tongue slowly drags up your skin, and you actually feel water rush to your eyes in torment when he pulls his hand away.

You open your mouth to beg him not to stop, but then he’s already moving.  Grabbing your hips and slowly lifting them until your knees have to shuffle up to compensate.  He still keeps your head buried in the pillow, though, still keeps the upper half of your body firmly pressed against the floor.  You pant into the fabric half covering your face and fist the blanket underneath you, biting your lip and clenching your thighs as two hands carefully settle along the backs of them.

Fuck, he keeps you there for so long.  He drags out the anticipation until you’re downright hurting for it, waiting with your ass up in the air for him to do something—anything to help relieve your stress instead of continuing to build upon it.

“Fuck—” he whispers, “—missed you, too.”

When his hot, velvety tongue finally glides through your slit, something about it makes you moan brokenly into the pillow, spread your knees and arch your back even more in presentation.  Fuck, there’s just something about the mindblowing eroticism of your positioning right now, how you’re bent in half and letting him lick through your folds however is easiest for him, something about it hits just right and makes your orgasm suddenly pull up tight and fast.

“Din—” you breathe frantically, your knees shuffling apart and your hips pushing back against his mouth.  “Din, I’m gonna cum—”

His hands come up to clamp around your thighs and hold them steady.  And then he lowers his chin to seal his mouth over your clit, slowly dragging his slick tongue over it, again and again and again, and fuck, you can’t do anything to stop it.  Everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid and gasp his name, shuddering your way through the debilitating bliss as it arcs brilliantly up and down your spine.

By the time you’re finished, you’re slumped against the floor in exhaustion.  He pulls away and sits up, and you try to push yourself up too, but a large palm firmly flattening along your spine stops you.  The sound of him spitting and the subsequent slick glide of his hand around his cock makes you groan hoarsely against the pillow and relax back down again.

Din eases his way inside you and the thickness of him as he slowly breaks you open is fucking electrifying.  Your sensitive channel hugs tight to every fucking inch of him, lighting your nerves up from the inside and sending skittering shocks down your thighs.  You melt into the floor and take what he gives you until his hips touch your ass, sagging against the ground as he stands so tall and upright on his knees behind you.

When he slowly pulls back out, you can hear the wet sound it makes echo throughout the pitch black hull.  Maker, he just starts up a slow, steady rhythm, his steel grip on your ass holding you steady as he pushes in and out of you.  It’s blinding, making you writhe against the floor while he gives you his cock at a languid pace, dragging the pleasure out but snapping his hips against yours whenever he does reach the apex of his strong thrusts.

It’s as agonizing as it is blissful, and you moan softly into the pillow the entire way through it.  Except—you’re too full of mindless pleasure, too stimulated to want to remain stationary for this long.  You need to move, you need to show him how much you thought about him while he was gone.  

“Din—” you whimper, breathless and needy, turning your head back slightly to unmuffle your words.  “Turn over.”

“In a second,” he huffs, his cock continuing to steadily rock into you.  You’re bent in half, taking it the only way he’ll give it to you and not even being able to push back into him.  “No—l-later.  After.”

You whine, frustrated, clawing and pulling at the blankets under your arms.  “Please—”

“Fuck,” Din pants, “fuck, what do you need?  You need it faster?”  His speed kicks up the slightest bit, and stars, you have to bite the back of your hand to muffle the ragged noise you make in response.  “This what you need?  Tell me.”

There’s not a good way to phrase it.  Mostly, you just… feel the need to participate in this more directly.  You know from experience that he likes to finish when he’s on top, but after weeks apart, you… you need to be what makes him cum, not what he holds steady and uses to get himself there.  

Your voice comes out frantically, pleading gasps for him to grant you this one thing.  “Just turn over, please—pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His thrusts falter, until they stop completely.  He sounds like he’s having as much trouble breathing as you are, but his hard grip on you gradually loosens.  “You—do you not—?”

You don’t let him finish.  As soon as he lets you go, you’re pushing yourself up and turning around, grabbing his shoulders and all but wrestling him down to the cushioned blanket.  Din grunts and lets you do it, dropping down onto his back and snaking his hands up your naked chest as you climb over him with weak, trembling limbs.  Once you get his cock into position and sink down though—fuck, you grab his wrists and yank them up until his palms are cupping your tits, and Din hisses below you.  Your hands are barely large enough to wrap around the backs of his, but you force him to squeeze them nonetheless, and then you begin to ride him in earnest.

He curses, bracing his feet against the floor and shifting his knees behind you, and then he starts pushing his hips up into yours in time with your downward rolls.  Maker, he hits something deep inside you at the angle, something that makes you gasp every time your hips meet.  Your palms drag down his wrists and forearms as he keeps groping your breasts, throwing your head back in ecstasy as another orgasm starts to stir somewhere low in your core.

“Stars, I—I think I m-might—” You barely have enough time to gasp it out before he’s releasing your breasts and anchoring his grip tight to your hips, beginning to angle and isolate in on that one spot that drives you fucking crazy.  The strong thrusts pull you forward until your palms are braced on the floor next to his head, and you just moan and push back against it as he fucks deep into you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Din says again, his disembodied voice sounding tighter and more desperate in the darkness, like it’s coming out against his will.  “I—I missed you, t-too, sweet girl, I f-fucking—missed—”

You choke out a cry as another wave of euphoria all but fucking evicerates you.  Your elbows buckle and you fall into his chest, but Din wraps both arms around your back and keeps fucking you through it, gritting breathless curses at the ceiling as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Tho—ught about you—” he groans, husky and low next to your ear, “every… fuck, every fucking day—thought about y—”

His body tenses and his thrusts stutter to a halt, and then he grinds up into you, gasping your name into the pitch black hull.  Your body is crushed into his chest when his hips jerk against yours, and you bite his shoulder in satisfaction, squeezing hard around his throbbing cock.

When Din finally settles back down to the floor again, both of you are spent.  Neither one of you fucking move.  You don’t say anything while you catch your breath against his chest, slumping down into him as his knees suddenly drop flat.

“Fuck,” he breathes.  “Fuck.  I’m.  I’m never taking a bounty on Coruscant again.”

You laugh lightly, swallowing and turning your head to settle in the crook of his neck.  Your knees shuffle up slightly until you’re resting all your weight on top of him, his cock still engulfed in your hot center.  As soon as you lift off him, you know you’re just going to dribble a mess all over these nice blankets, so you decide to put it off for as long as he allows it.

Din doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all.  In fact, his chest shifts just slightly beneath you when he reaches down to catch one of the blankets and pull the fabric over the both of you, collapsing back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh and doing absolutely nothing to encourage you to move whatsoever.

“Corellia was worse,” you tell him instinctually, and he grunts and brings his hands up to trail his fingers along your lower back.

“Corellia was over within a day,” he points out, and.  Shit.  You know he’s just being diplomatic about it, but something in the way he casually brushes it off suddenly makes you go quiet.  He’s right, you probably weren’t on Corellia for more than a few hours total.  Not that you necessarily expected him to, but he clearly doesn’t realize the events that took place there have haunted you for weeks.

When you don’t immediately say something in response, Din stops dragging his fingers up your spine.  You can feel his chin lower slightly, his jaw brush against your forehead.  “You oka—?”

“I killed someone on Corellia,” you whisper, and your words hang heavy in the still air immediately afterwards.  “A man is dead because of me.”

He doesn’t speak.  For a long time, Din doesn’t speak.

By the time his voice eventually does come through the darkness, you’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“You’re right,” he tells you bluntly, brushing your hair back from your shoulder.  And, for some reason, you’re not expecting it.  If you were able to get a verbal reply out of him at all, you… you hoped he’d argue with you even just a little bit, if only to make you feel even the slightest bit better.  “A man is dead, and you killed him.”

Though his voice is soft and you know he’s not being intentionally cruel, it’s like he reached through your ribcage and crushed your heart himself.  Your shoulders tense at the feeling, wanting to instinctively curl yourself inwards and make yourself smaller in response to it.  Only, Din’s broad chest prevents it.  All you can do is hide your face as best you can in his neck and let the unfiltered truth weigh heavy on you in the silent hull.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” he eventually says.  “He’s not dead because of you.  That implies you had a choice.  You didn’t.  He’s dead because of him.  He gave you an ultimatum, and you did what you had to do.  Don’t feel bad that you won.”

“I didn’t win anything,” you whisper against his throat, uncomfortable with the implication.

“He initiated a confrontation, and you finished it,” he asserts.  “You did what you had to do, and you did great, so don’t—”

“Great?”  You close your eyes and try not to sound as upset as you currently feel, because you know this is just him being polite.  He does this for a living.  He’s probably lost count of how many people he’s killed in his lifetime, so what’s one body to him?  You shouldn’t have let the conversation lead here, especially after such a lovely moment.  “I… I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have brought it—”

“Listen to me,” Din suddenly says, curling the tips of his fingers against your shoulder blade.  “There’s something you need to understand, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings by telling you this.  But the galaxy will never be as kind to you as you are to it.  You’re tenderhearted, and that’s not a bad thing.  Hang onto it, but recognize that it’s rare.  It’s not something that you’ll come by often.  You’ll never see as much of it in anyone else as I see in you.”

Maybe it’s because you know he’s not used to comforting people that the words actually manage to make you feel somewhat comforted.  They’re blunt and honest, but they also allow an unobstructed glimpse into his feelings for you, specifically because of that.

“I just…”  You bite your lip and snuggle your head deeper into the crook of his neck.  “I just wish I could… somehow…”

His chest expands fully with air underneath you, and then you can literally feel yourself slowly sink down a few inches with how deeply he sighs.  But… this isn’t the normal Mando sigh.  He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, exasperated, or impatient.  He sounds… empathetic.  Understanding.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and comb his fingers through your hair, tugging at some of the tangles at your nape.  “What would you have done differently?”

You don’t answer him, because you immediately see what he’s getting at.  You’ve told yourself these things a million times over in the weeks he’s been gone.  Regardless, he goes on for you.

“Would you have chosen to land the ship in a different spot?  Risked a different person following you onto it?”  He asks, and though the overarching point to this line of questioning is already blatantly obvious, his voice is still kind.  “Would you have taken that vibroblade to a different part of his body?  Given him a slower death?  What else would you have done, sweet girl?”

You stay silent, fluttering your eyes shut.  His fingers lazily trail up and down the length of your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin once again.

“Even if there was something you could’ve done—even if his death had been your fault,” Din murmurs, “—listen, do you remember what you said to me?  When I told you my name���before that, do you remember what you said?  You said that some things just belong to people.  That there are certain things that people just own, right?  Fundamentally.  And you can do whatever you want with them.  You can choose whether or not to share them with others, you can hide them, or you can.  Change them.  Burn them away.  Remember?”

You nod as much as you can with your head buried into his neck like this.

“Well, you’re right,” he continues, his voice softening.  “Some things do belong to people.  But some things… some things you can’t change.  Some things you can’t hide, and you can’t just burn away forever.  But that doesn’t make them any less yours, understand?  You killed someone.  It doesn’t matter what I tell you, or what you tell yourself.  The end result won’t ever change.  It can't change.  You own that now, and you’ll carry his death with you.  Just like I carry every single one of mine.”

He’s… he’s right.  You don’t have to like it, but he’s right.

“I don’t like it when you quote me to me,” you eventually whisper, your lips brushing his throat.

“Too bad.  I got another one for you,” Din rumbles, and you can feel his gentle smile against your hairline as he tilts his head and presses his lips to your temple.  “The Way says no take-backs.”

You narrow your eyebrows into this perfect little corner of him, not liking how curt and unapologetic it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Did I say that?”

“Yep,” he huffs at the ceiling.  “Half-asleep, yet observant enough to be annoying.”

Your mouth twists, trying to appear visibly offended in the pitch blackness for some reason but fighting back a smile.  “Would you rather I be oblivious and adorable?”

“No,” he says immediately, and then you blink a few times in the darkness at the sincerity in his tone.  “You’re smart.  Well—you’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re smart.  That’s good.  That’s your best weapon.  Use it.”

“Use it?”  You ask, your voice quiet but curious.  “For what?”

He takes a second before responding, his fingers continuing to trace gentle, subconscious shapes along the curve of your spine.  “What planet are we going to next?”

The abrupt change in subject is stark and immediately noticeable, but you wrack your memory for the coordinates you brought up earlier when he was in the fresher nonetheless.  “Naboo.”

“I was thinking,” Din says, shifting just the slightest bit under you.  You groan when you realize his cock is still inside you, soft but still gorgeously thick enough to not slip out.  “Might… might be a good idea to show you some things.  Give you a few self-defense tips before I head out again.  Naboo is one of the safest planets in the galaxy.  We can… take a few days.”

“Yeah?”  You breathe, a spark of excitement bringing an immediate smile to your face.

“Yeah,” he repeats softly, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against your temple as he nods.  “Been awhile.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip on a grin and try not to let him hear the happiness in your voice.  Fuck, a few days.  A few days he’s delaying his job to spend with you.  Maybe you’ll be able to sleep on an actual mattress at some point.  You truly can’t fucking wait.

You two stay like that for quite a long time, just resting and breathing with each other in the pitch black hull.

“We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia, how about that?”  You find yourself saying after a moment of comfortable silence.  When Din doesn’t speak, you elaborate.  “You asked me what I would’ve done differently.  We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia.  Avoided the whole fucking sector altogether, like I plan on doing for the rest of my life.”  

And then your whole body abruptly jerks up and down exactly once with his genuinely amused huff of laughter from underneath you.

Your expression immediately narrows.  This is the third time you’ve ever made him laugh in all the months you’ve known him, and somehow all three of them have been at your own expense.  “What’s funny?”

“Absolutely.  You could’ve—” he clears his throat, “—convinced me.  Not to hunt down a bounty.”

He doesn’t make a sound beyond that, and had you not been laying on top of his chest as it subtly vibrated with stifled chuckles, you wouldn’t have known at all that he found that to be so funny.

“I could’ve… wooed you,” you try after a second, and nope.  You feel like you’re on top of a silent, quaking faultline now, and you do your best to keep a frown on your face as you rock back and forth on top of him.  His cock almost slips out of you in the commotion.  Almost.

“Get some sleep, you sweet talker,” he eventually sighs when he calms his breathing, kissing your forehead and settling back down into the blankets.  “The kid will be up in a few hours, probably less.”

“He’s your son,” you grumble, still sulking somewhat at his blatant disregard of your seduction talents.  “Takes after you.  For all I know he looks just like you, too.”

“Sleep,” Din tells you, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head and push it deeper into the crook of his neck.  “That’s enough talking.”

You stomp down the playful urge to bite him and settle into him instead, closing your eyes and breathing him in.  Fuck.  A few days on Naboo.  You’ve only heard nice things about the beautiful planet.  You wonder if it has an ocean.  Could a planet be called beautiful if it doesn’t have at least one?  You’ve seen rivers and lakes on planets Din has taken you to, but there was always land on the other side.  You’ve never seen an actual ocean before, you’ve only heard about them.  Water, as far as the eye can see.  There has to be an ocean on Naboo, right?

“Hey Din, are there any—”

“Stop.”

It’s alright, you’ll ask later.

[tossawary]

Because my brain does NOT stop even when I’m grounded, today my brain told me, “Hey, I figured out how to make a Hobbit Fusion AU work.” And I was like, “Great! We’re working, though.” And my brain was like, “I’ve figured out how to make it a Pre-Canon Canon Divergence AU for Moshang.”

And I was like, “...I’m listening.”

The Hobbit is another one of my Comfort Media and it got brought up when I was asking about that, but I was feeling kind of “eh” about mixing Tolkien mythology with SVSSS. I mean, the mental picture of Dwarf Mobei-Jun is extremely funny and Shang Qinghua would make a great hobbit! But that interpretation felt a little too direct for my AU tastes.

So, hm, now I have another potential Big Bang contender. My love for The Hobbit is very, VERY strong and looking at my current outline, I have to be like, “Yeah, this could be 50,000 words, no problem.”

It’s a very good outline!

-

After saving Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua bailed A.S.A.P. because he honestly thought Mobei-Jun was going to kill him. He psyched himself out of sticking around before Mobei-Jun woke up. Mobei-Jun didn’t get enough information to track Shang Qinghua down.

Shang Qinghua (who isn’t SQH because he isn’t the Peak Lord) decides that he can’t fucking take it anymore and bails from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect too. The System objects, but also falls into line when Airplane shrieks at it. Airplane is going to go become a humble merchant and inventor and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him!

It turns out that Shang Qinghua’s presence or help was actually crucial to stop some Emperor of the Abyss from taking over the Ice Palace and the Northern Desert. Airplane is like, “Oh, yeah, I remember… offhandedly writing something about that happening in the past off-screen?” It was one of those things that he just threw in there because it sounded really cool, and it gave Mobei-Jun another reason to “owe” Shang Qinghua and not kill him immediately, but he never got to elaborate on it because he was too busy writing stallion novel bullshit.

So, borrowing the lore from my “Horns” one-shot, an extremely powerful Emperor of the Abyss escaped the Eternal Abyss. This is some devouring horror being from the depths of the abyss, which ate everything in its vicinity in the abyss itself and crawled into the Demon Realm to eat more things. The Emperor of the Abyss was attracted to Mobei-Jun’s father. They fought. Mobei-Jun’s father should have won, but didn’t, because he was too fucked up (thanks to his own hedonism or something) to fight properly. What an asshole.

Mobei-Jun’s father was killed and devoured by the Emperor of the Abyss, which has made it… exponentially powerful. It’s now… basically a calamity. The desolation that it leaves in its wake across the Northern Desert is unspeakable. Mobei-Jun and his family, their allied clans, and pretty much all demons in the Northern Desert have had to flee.

Mobei-Jun is currently essentially a “guest” of the Sha Clan. He’s homeless. He’s lost the power of his ancestors. He’s a “king” without a kingdom. It’s humiliating. He needs to kill the abyssal creature to retrieve: his title, his ancestors’ power, and his kingdom.

While working for other demon clans to support his family and people, Mobei-Jun crosses paths with Airplane. Airplane has become a relatively successful merchant and inventor, and he calls himself Shang Houhua. He lives a very comfortable life and does his best to ignore anything resembling the plot. He’s pretty successful at ignoring the plot.

Mobei-Jun is never in a good mood these days, but he’s especially pissed off to see that human who abandoned him all those years ago. Airplane tries to argue that Mobei-Jun told him to fuck off, but Mobei-Jun is too angry. Airplane makes lots of offers in an effort to get Mobei-Jun to spare his life, one of which ends up being a claim that he can help Mobei-Jun kill the Emperor of the Abyss and make him a king again. Mobei-Jun pauses, now even more pissed off than before, and Airplane just starts babbling desperately to save his own skin.

Mobei-Jun was already forming a company to take on a Quest for the Northern Desert - in the hopes of slaying the Emperor of the Abyss and retaking his homeland. Part of the issue has been that forming the company is difficult. Mobei-Jun wants people who are loyal to HIM and ONLY to him. He won’t owe anyone else anything or promise them pieces of his homeland.

(Airplane is like, “Bro, I don’t know if you can afford to be so picky, but okay.”)

So Mobei-Jun is like… “I still want to kill you, but fine, you can come on our quest and help us.”

So Airplane ends up on the Quest for the Northern Desert, led by his very angry future murderer the “king without a kingdom” Mobei-Jun, to fight the calamitous Emperor of the Abyss who killed Mobei-Jun’s father. Fuck.

Some details beyond this opening premise:

Airplane and Mobei-Jun fall in love over the course of the quest, obviously. They have their own hijinks like each chapter of The Hobbit (equivalents to the trolls, to Rivendell, to Goblintown, to Beorn, to Mirkwood, and to Laketown, etc.). 

Oh, damn, I just realized that making a pre-fall Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang the Beorn equivalents would be so fucking funny.

The Emperor of the Abyss is a horrifying Smaug equivalent. It can totally talk because Airplane having a conversation with a draconian horror sounds incredible. I would love to have Airplane outwit the Emperor of the Abyss in some fashion.

Mobei-Jun and Airplane somehow manage to successfully kill the Emperor of the Abyss together. Like, together. Probably using some plot device whipped up or some clever plan devised by Airplane on his feet. Mobei-Jun trusts Airplane at a crucial moment and it all works out. Airplane actually gets Mobei-Jun his kingdom back.

I’m tempted to just skip over the Ring and not having a Ring equivalent. BUT if I made this into a longfic instead of a one-shot, I would have a Ring equivalent (if it was a one-shot, I would ditch the Ring equivalent). I think I would make Xin Mo the One Ring equivalent. During the Goblintown equivalent event, Airplane falls either into the Eternal Abyss or into Bing-Ge’s dimension, where he proceeds to successfully take up Xin Mo because he knows the trick and portal himself out of the Eternal Abyss, or he proceeds to outwit Bing-Ge in some fashion and uses the Xin Mo sword to portal himself back to the right dimension.

So then Airplane is stuck with this super powerful sword that he doesn’t want to use again because he KNOWS that it will fuck him up. He KNOWS that it will FUCK HIM UP. So Airplane has to go through the rest of the quest ignoring the temptation of the Xin Mo sword that he is absolutely not supposed to have and can’t possibly let anyone else have.

(Oh, man, imagining the influence of Xin Mo giving Airplane extra horny thoughts about Mobei-Jun on the rest of the quest is very funny. Like, Airplane was already hot for Mobei-Jun, but now it’s worse and he might never have a normal thought ever again.)

Bagginshield Movie Hug when Airplane turns up again, for sure. Mobei-Jun thought he was dead. Mobei-Jun smiles and everything, until he remembers to frown again.

I’m feeling like I don’t want Airplane to use Xin Mo to help defeat the Emperor of the Abyss, but it makes sense if he does. Him not using it doesn’t make much sense. I do like the idea of Airplane dealing the killing blow and Mobei-Jun’s pride being hurt by Airplane being the one to kill it. I also like the idea of Mobei-Jun being a little smitten by Airplane just… loyally handing him his kingdom and restoring the power of his ancestors. I also really like the idea of Airplane just… not having some super powerful plot device up his sleeve on the quest.

Like, instead of Airplane’s Author God knowledge totally setting him up to deal with this thing no problem, Airplane had NO FUCKING PLAN when he set out with Mobei-Jun. He was talking completely out of his ass when he said he knew how to help Mobei-Jun. That this all worked out at all is almost completely due to luck and improvisation.

That feels MUCH more true to both Shang Qinghua and to Bilbo Baggins. Lucky lads of fast-talking, complaining, lying, not knowing what the fuck is really going on, thirsting after kings with tragic backstories, and somehow not dying despite winging it all the time.

Instead of goldsickness, Mobei-Jun is forced to deal with some side-effects of consuming the Emperor of the Abyss to regain the power of his ancestors. (Demon cannibalism rituals. Yeah.) He starts acting really scary and out-of-character and forceful, until Airplane loses his nerve and runs away. Maybe under the influence of the late Emperor of the Abyss, Mobei-Jun actually tries to kill him? I could see Mobei-Jun trying to kill Airplane for the Xin Mo sword which dealt the finishing blow on the Emperor of the Abyss.

(I need a better name for this thing. If I can’t come up with something that actually sounds good, I might just call it “The Calamity”, but that’s giving me BOTW vibes so I don’t like it. Maybe I’d call it “The Desolation” or something? Ehhhh, I don’t really like that either.)

I want to have a Battle of the Five Armies equivalent, if only so Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang can swoop in as benevolent helpers as the Beorn equivalents. Currently, I’m seeing three options. 1) The orc army equivalent are neighboring demon lords who want to strike while the new Mobei-Jun is getting established. 2) The orc army equivalent is Linguang-Jun trying to kill his nephew and take power at the last minute. 3) The orc army equivalent is Bing-Ge here with an army and he’s pissed off and wants his sword back.

On one hand, 1 and 2 would be SO MUCH EASIER to pull off. I could be really lazy about the whole thing. On the other hand, 3 would be much fresher (more surprising and links back to the Xin Mo element), more challenging and the idea of pre-fall Tianlang-Jun facing off with Bing-Ge delights me. Kick his ass, Tianlang-Jun!

(Su Xiyan gets involved? My brain says YES. Kick his ass, Su Xiyan!)

Also, I was sad about there being no Fili and Kili equivalents, because Mobei-Jun has no friends, and I’ll have to make up a company pretty much from scratch. (Sha Hualing is too young and Luo Binghe hasn’t been born yet.) BUT then I was like, “Where’s Linguang-Jun in all this?” And I would absolutely have Linguang-Jun be a part of Mobei-Jun’s Company. Instead of nephews, Mobei-Jun has a sketchy uncle who might be trying to kill him. Keeping Linguang-Jun out of it might be easier, but actually doing some character-building with him sounds fun and challenging, and I’d rather limit the number of OCs if possible.

Mobei-Jun manages to shake off the goldsickness equivalent somehow, probably through “the power of love” (and/or straight-up “dual cultivation” with Airplane?). Moshang makes up while Mobei-Jun is apparently mortally wounded from fighting Bing-Ge and Airplane thinks this is all his fault. But Mobei-Jun doesn’t die! It’s all good!  

It’d be pretty funny if there was a “Returning to the Shire” equivalent where Airplane leaves because he thinks Mobei-Jun hates him now and never wants to see him again. So then Mobei-Jun has to track his man down like, “Get back here and marry me. (Also I am so sorry for trying to kill you. Please forgive me. I hate myself so much for that.)”

And they all live happily ever after!

Holy shit, this wasn’t in Proud Immortal Demon Way.

[xbaepsae]

same old mistakes (m)

“But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybe too much—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

[rich boy!hoseok x reader]

genre: country club!au, smut, slightly angsty, some fluff

word count: 12.8k

rating: mature

warnings: sex. lots and lots of unprotected sex lmao (please use protection), slight rough sex, some jealousy, rich prick asshole jung hoseok, mentions of alcohol, language, golf terminology (i’m sorry if it’s wrong idk anything about golf LMAO) oblivious mutual pining lol

a/n: omg this fic absolutely consumed me these last few weeks. i haven’t been able to think about anything else, which is why i haven’t been super active lol. so glad i finished this before the upcoming valentine’s holiday and hobi’s birthday <3 loved writing this so much! rich asshole hoseok has my heart. xoxo

You have never felt more flustered in your life.

It’s the summer after your first year of college, and you decided to come home—to spend a little time with your mother and her new husband. Well, more like she begged you to come home. You actually wanted to visit your roommate’s family on the coast, and spend your days at the beach, but your mother insisted that you come home instead.

Now that you are home, she doesn’t even have time to spend with you. She and her husband are too busy vacationing; that should’ve been you. You can’t even bear to look at your roommate’s Instagram account. And worse of all, your mother signed you up for a job you did not consent to.

“You did what?”

Your mother blinked back at you, feigning innocence. “I heard from Mrs. Lee—you know, our neighbor down the street that attends the local country club—and she said that they were hiring for the summer. You know how rich people love their golf and fancy dinners.”

“And you just decided to volunteer me?” You couldn’t believe her. “I don’t want to work at some prissy country club.”

“Weren’t you just complaining about being broke last week?” She really did not need to expose you like that. “This’ll be good for you, honey.”

Thus, you found yourself standing in front of the country club not even a week later. They hadn’t even asked you to do an interview; you just talked to a manager on the phone and she said for you to just come in. Honestly, too suspiciously easy but what could you do about it? Your mother had been right—you did need the money.

When you arrived, you were immediately whisked away into training. There, one of the girls, Soyoung, fitted you into the uniform—a plain white polo and khaki shorts—and told you what you’d be doing here.

“So, there are a lot of different areas here,” she began, “as you can see from how big this country club is. So, you might find yourself working in different areas occasionally…but for now, you’re going to be on the course with the drink cart.”

Soyoung explained that as the drink cart girl, you’d be driving a golf cart around while handing out beer and other drinks to the golfers on the course. It seemed easy enough, except you’d never driven a golf cart before…or tried to sell people something. However, Soyoung assured you it was easy.

But that was about an hour ago. Since then, a lot has happened. You managed to get the golf cart to work, but it is considerably different from an actual car. The forward/backwards switches were tripping you up. Because of that, you already knocked over a display…or two.

Which leads you to your most embarrassing moment.

For some reason, you forgot that being back in your hometown means the possibility of running into people you went to high school with. The thought just didn’t seem to come to mind. Being off at university has made you forget about all of those idiots you used to be around every day. Until now, when you bump into one of them. Literally.

You really hadn’t seen him behind you; then again, you weren’t looking, which was probably not the greatest idea. But you blindly backed up and hit him. Not that you were going fast or anything, but he did cause an outburst.

“Oh my—fuck! Watch where you’re going!”

Horrified, you press onto the breaks. Turning around, an apology begins to fall from your lips. “I am so sorry. It’s my first time—”

“Y/n?”

You freeze at the voice; it sounds awfully familiar. Blinking a few times, your eyes focus on the person in front of you. And your stomach sinks. Standing in front of you is none other than Jung Hoseok—the last person you ever expected to see again.

He must see the recognition fill your eyes because he instantly smirks. “Wow, it really is you. It’s been a while, huh? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

An awkward laugh passes through your teeth. “Yeah…it really has.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” his smirk seems to widen, and his eyes travel down to your clothes. “You work here or something?”

“Yeah…just started today, actually.”

He nods appreciatively. “Nice. Well, I’m here almost every day, so, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

I hope not. “Sure.”

Just as Hoseok opens his mouth to say something else, someone calls his name. He looks away from you, and that’s when you finally allow yourself a moment to look at him. For the first time, you realize how long a year is and how much change can happen in that time frame. Even though it irks you a bit to think about, he looks really good—even in his damn polo and khakis.

You take in the curved slope of his nose, the way his brows are perfectly arched to match his equally perfect eyes. And you’re almost blinded by his pearly white smile. Perhaps, Hoseok has always been attractive—dark, windswept hair and all. You’ve just never wanted to admit it; even after that one—

“Catch you around, y/n,” he suddenly says, and that’s when you realize he’s caught you. He smirks and shoots you a wink as he walks away, leaving you to mentally kick yourself alone.

***

In high school, you and Jung Hoseok were in different crowds. He was preppy and popular—kind of snooty, to be honest—and you were just normal. Not popular, but not a complete wallflower either. Despite not being in the same circles, you both had a few classes together; which meant that you knew each other decently well. At least, you knew enough about Hoseok that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Except for that one, momentarily lapse of judgment, your conscious suddenly reminds you. But you’d rather not think about that right now.

Another thing about Hoseok that you knew of was his background; he came from money—a lot of it, actually. You don’t know exactly what his family does, but they’re those old money types; the kind of rich people that have been rich forever. Which helped to explain his popularity in high school, and how he had a country club membership now.

You wished you knew that before you got the job here.

As you drive around the golf course, feeling more comfortable driving the cart now, you may or may not be on the lookout for Hoseok. Now that you know he’s here, your eyes seem to search for him everywhere. And it’s not because you want to see him; you want to avoid him, if possible.

It’s not until you’re halfway through the course that you see him with a group of other guys, which—to your displeasure—are also people you went to high school with. It’s fitting though, you presume, considering they were all close then as well.

You don’t know anything about golf, but you watch as Hoseok lines up his club to the ball. He swings only once, and the ball flies. You follow where it goes and watch as it hits the grass and rolls right into the hole. His friends cheer for him as he turns around with a smug look on his face. “And that, everyone, is how you fucking do it.”

“Nice, man,” one person—who you recognize as Jeon Jeongguk—says, moving to pat him on the back.

“The motherfucking GOAT,” another—Kim Namjoon—laughs.

“Maybe you should just go pro or something, dude,” the last guy says, and you recognize him as Kim Seokjin. “Because you’ve hit an ace, birdie or eagle at every hole.”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Maybe I’m just lucky today.”

“Dude probably just had good ass last night,” Namjoon smirks. “So, who was it?”

“A gentleman does not kiss and tell, my friend,” Hoseok winks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the banter between all of these men. Disgusting. “But if you really want to know…”

“Not you trying to get Hoseok’s sloppy seconds,” Seokjin speaks directly to Namjoon. “Because we all know how that went the first time with—”

“It wasn’t my fault Katie caught feelings,” Hoseok interrupts, walking back towards the rest of his friends. “I told her it was a one-time thing.”

Jeongguk struggles not to laugh as he moves up to line his club and ball. “And then you introduced her to Namjoon.”

“And she used him to get closer to…” Seokjin starts to say, but then he notices you. You’ve never seen someone straighten up so quickly. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” you say as three pairs of eyes turn to look in your direction as well. “Um, drinks?”

“Took you long enough to get here, y/n. I was starting to wonder when you’d arrive,” Hoseok takes a step in your direction, and you watch as the rest of the guys do a double take.

Namjoon is the first to speak, “Ah…y/n. Yes, I remember you…we had chemistry together, right?”

“Oh my gosh, you were in my calculus class!” Jeongguk exclaims, golf club still mid-air.

“I don’t think we had any classes together,” Seokjin says with a pout. “Because if we did, I would’ve remembered you for sure.”

For some reason, you feel your cheeks get hotter. “Um, thanks?”

You can tell they want to say more to you, but Hoseok shoots his friends a look you can’t see, and they close their mouths immediately. Turning back to you, he takes another step close to your golf cart. “A beer for each of us.”

“Aren’t you all underage—”

“No one cares here, y/n,” he cuts you off with a smirk. “Besides, Seokjin’s father owns this country club—we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

Shock passes through you at this news, mouth dropping at the realization that Hoseok and his friends might be more privileged than you originally thought.

“And we don’t usually have to pay for anything, but”—he fishes for something in his pocket— “here.”

You look down at his extended hand, where a crumpled 100-dollar bill sits, and practically gawk at it. Who carries such large bills around so casually? “What—?”

“Keep the change,” he stares you right in the eyes, and you have no other choice but to accept the money.

“Thanks,” you manage to say before reaching around to grab four beers from the cooler.

As each bottle is plucked from your hands, Hoseok is the last person to grab his; and the way his fingers accidentally touch your own seems like no accident at all. Although it was only for a few seconds at most, his touch leaves your skin burning. Burning for what? You don’t know; but it lingers the rest of your shift in a way that is so distracting, you nearly hit someone else with the golf cart.

***

“So let me get this story straight, you saw a guy you fucked for the first time in a year and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. Worst of all, his presence at your new job is going to be the death of you.”

You cringe at your roommates’ words. “God, why do you have to say it like that.”

“I mean, that’s who he is right?” her voice echoes through the screen.

She’s not wrong, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “When you say it like that, it’s just weird.”

“Y/n, you act like you haven’t fucked other guys before.”

“Yes, but what happened with Jung Hoseok was a mistake,” you breathe. “It was never supposed to happen.”

Her pixilated expression softens upon seeing your clear distress. “I understand, babe. We all do things we regret.”

But it wasn’t that you necessarily regretted sleeping with Hoseok. No, you very much enjoyed it—maybe too much—which is why it was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t like he coerced you into that bedroom; you willingly followed him inside. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because you had been as sober as the day you were born.

It was graduation weekend, and everyone had come out to celebrate. You really didn’t want to go, but some of your friends forced you. Just enjoy the time we still have together, y/n, they had said. Ironic, because you no longer spoke to any of them.

Around the fire, behind the massive patio of someone’s house, drinks were poured and passed around. Even though you held a red solo cup in your hand, the murky liquid didn’t draw you in; you hated the way alcohol tasted back then. Still kind of do. But you simply pretended like you were enjoying yourself.

Every single part of you wanted to leave early that night, but you didn’t. You ended up staying because of Hoseok. It was something about the way he carried himself at that bonfire that night. Before, you never saw him as anything more than a spoiled brat; however, the flames of the fire seemed to soften him before your eyes. Because before you knew it, Hoseok pulled you away from the stares of everyone else.

You don’t even remember what happened—what you two talked about or didn’t talk about. But something happened before he kissed you. Unfortunately, it’s all a blur now.

After swelling your lips with, what seemed like, a thousand kisses, he told you he wanted more; and you told him yes. The memory of him rushing with you through the house and into a vacant room still burns hotly in your mind. You had been giddy with nerves and excitement as he pushed you against the closed door, sucking the air from your lungs.

Hoseok ripped your clothes off with practiced hands, clearly experienced with this, and made you come undone more times than you can recall. Throughout this whole exchange, not much was said; but no words were needed when he could read your body so well.

The both of you ended up falling asleep like that—tangled in each other’s arms. And when you woke up a few hours later to the rising sun, horror filled your veins like a shock of ice.

You left without saying anything. Not that you think he would’ve cared either way. Jung Hoseok seemed like he would be used to stuff like that.

You just never thought you’d see him again one year later.

But here he is.

***

During your next few weeks at the country club, you try your best to avoid Hoseok.

This, however, proves difficult to do since you can hear his laughter echoing everywhere. From the hallways to the range, you can’t seem to escape him at all. And it doesn’t help that his friends all seem to be around too.

Every time you catch even the smallest glimpse of him, you turn in the opposite direction. You aren’t sure if he can tell that you’re avoiding him or not, but you don’t care—you just want to get this summer over with already.

“Y/n!”

Turing in the direction your name is being called, you see Soyoung walking towards you. You offer her a tight smile, hoping she isn’t here to tell you that you’re in trouble or something. “Soyoung. What’s up?”

“Do you mind helping me clean up a little by the pool? I know you just got done on the range, but a girl called out and I could really use the help.” She gives you this sad puppy look, which means you can’t refuse her offer. So, begrudgingly, you follow her back outside.

In the hot summer sun, the large crystal blue pool looks like temptation. Soyoung notices your face and laughs. At her laughter, you realize you’ve never seen the pool this close. You pass by the canopy lined pool lounge every day, but you’re not a maid here or on lifeguard duty so you’ve never had a reason to linger very long.

“Looks inviting, huh?”

All you can do is hum in agreement as you begin helping Soyoung pick up disserted pool towels and throwing them into the hamper. As you’re bending down to retrieve a particularly wet towel on the concrete, the hot sun beating down your back is suddenly gone. You look up and notice there’s a shadow blocking the sun—a suspiciously familiar shadow.

Immediately, your back straightens, and you turn around to face a shirtless Hoseok. His hair is wet from the pool, which means beads of water are cascading down his chest. You try not to stare, but he’s literally so close; there’s nowhere else to look. Your eyes follow the towel in his hand as he begins to dry himself up, going from his abdomen before they travel down to the dark trail of hair that leads to—

You freeze and force your eyes back up, but the smile on his face tells you that you got caught—again.

“Like what you see?” His smile seems to grow wider at your expression.

You scowl. “In your dreams, Jung Hoseok.”

He leans down, face inches from yours, whispering, “If I remember correctly, that dream already came true…one year ago.”

Before you can say anything, he stands back up to his full height and brushes past you—his naked skin burning holes through your clothes. Once he’s a few steps away from you, you realize his friends were also there the whole time. Embarrassment burns your cheeks at what they might’ve thought, but their expressions remain too ambiguous for you to read as they follow their friend.

“I didn’t know you knew Hoseok.”

Your head whips towards Soyoung. “I don’t…I mean, not really. We just went to high school together.”

But your coworker doesn’t seem to buy it. “Really? I’ve been working here for a few summers and those guys have always been around, especially because Seokjin’s dad is the owner. I’ve tried to make small talk with them a few times, but they’re pretty intimidating.”

“They’re pricks,” you tell her. “Typical entitled rich boys.”

“I suppose so,” she hums, throwing the last towel into the bin. “Anyway, can I ask for another favor?”

All you can do is nod. “What?”

“I have another thing I have to do,” Soyoung starts, making you realize she works pretty hard here, “so, can you put these towels in the laundry room? You don’t have to start a load or anything; just leave them and one of the maids will wash them later.”

She slips the laundry room key into your pocket, telling you to give it back to her later, as she rushes off to her next task. Which leaves you to find the laundry room by yourself. After nearly ten minutes of searching, you find it tucked in a small hallway.

Opening the door, you push the dirty towel hamper into the room. You look around and see multiple washers, dryers, and a lot of storage shelves filled with miscellaneous items. You’re so caught up in looking around the room that you almost don’t hear the door close. At the sound of the lock clicking into place, you turn around; immediately, your heart starts beating faster.

“What are you doing in here?”

Hoseok leans against the door, no longer shirtless like before, and smirks at you. “I was following you.”

Like that’s not weird at all. “Stalker much?”

“Just wanted to know why you’ve been avoiding me, that’s all,” he pushes off the door, taking a step closer. You unconsciously take a step back, hitting the hamper.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie.

He just blinks at you. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?”

You’re shocked that he can read you so well. “Okay, so what if I am avoiding you? It’s not like you should care. Just leave me alone.”

For a brief moment, something passes over his eyes; but the emotion’s gone before you can think about it. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What?” Now, it was your turn to blink rapidly.

Hoseok takes another step towards you, severing whatever distance there had been before. His arms move to cage you between himself and the dirty hamper. Slowly, he leans down, making sure not to move his eyes away from yours. “I can’t just leave you alone—not when you’re the only thing on my mind.”

“What are you trying to say—” his hand wrapping around your jaw shuts you up.

“To put it simply, I can’t stop thinking about you—about that night after graduation,” he says, eyes swirling with a darkness you know all too well.

“But that was a year ago,” you manage to say through clenched teeth, and he loosens his grip on you.

His signature smirk lights his lips. “So?”

“I was drunk,” you lie again. “I don’t even remember what happened.”

“So, you’re telling me you don’t remember this?” One hand curves around your hip. “Or this?” Another wraps around your waist. “Or this?” He plants his lips onto your jaw.

You release a harsh breath as the memories of that night come flooding back. Heat begins to pool in your stomach from his touch. As he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck, your hands move to fist his shirt. Just as a moan threatens to leave your throat, he pulls away.

Your lips part in indignation at the loss of touch, and Hoseok just smirks even wider. “I thought you said you don’t remember?”

“I’m going to kill you, Jung Hoseok,” your frustration is through the roof.

“Tell me you remember.”

Right now, there are two sides of you fighting. There’s one part of you that wants to tell Hoseok you don’t remember a single thing—that you really had been drinking graduation night. But there’s an even larger part of you that wants him so bad—to feel the same high you felt a year ago.

So, you settle with, “But I’m working right now.”

Hoseok’s eyes turn obsidian as his smirk drops. “I’ll be quick.”

He pulls you away from the hamper and pushes you, stomach first, against one of the washers. Suddenly, you realize what’s about to happen and you try to force the dopey smile off your face by biting your lip. In one swift motion, he unbuttons and pulls both your shorts and panties down to your ankles. By the sudden coolness below, you already know you’re soaking.

And Hoseok must realize this too because you feel him swipe a long finger over your folds. You instinctively jerk back, letting out a moan at the slight pressure. “Hoseok—”

“Fuck, y/n, you’re so wet for me already,” he groans, using a second finger against your wetness. He slowly rubs your clit and you can’t help but tighten your grip against the cool machine. “Wonder if you’ve been wet since we saw each other earlier.”

You roll your eyes. Typical, cocky Jung Hoseok. “Of course not, you douchebag.”

“I beg to differ,” he hums, inserting a single digit inside of you. “So tight—just like I remembered. Tell me, y/n, has anyone else had the pleasure to fuck your pretty pussy after me?”

His words cause you tense for a moment, before replying, “Yes, asshole. I went to college. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking that I’m about to fuck you so good,” he starts and finishes with a whisper, “that you won’t remember any of them.”

If you weren’t already turned on before, you were now. Hoseok continues to fuck with his finger, slowly adding a second one, edging you until you’re a panting mess before him. “S-Stop teasing—I thought you said you were going to be quick?”

“I will be,” he promises, and you can hear him pushing the waistband of his swim trunks down. You’re dying to see his cock again, so you turn and nearly drool at the sight of his angry red tip. For some reason, he looks bigger than you remember and that worries you a little. “What? Think it won’t fit?”

You raise your eyes to look at his, and he has the sexiest expression on his face you’ve ever seen. “No. It fit before, right?”

He licks his lips as he brings his cock close to your entrance, brushing his head back and forth against your clit. You turn back around, arching your back more in hopes that he’ll finally just stick it inside already. But before you can get too lost in the moment, you gasp.

“What’s wrong?” He actually sounds concerned.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, facing him again. And by the pained expression on his face, he doesn’t. You let out a frustrated groan at getting all worked up for nothing. You’re about to reach down for your panties when he pushes you back into place. “What?”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes,” you answer, “but the pill is only—”

“I’ll pull out,” he says. “And I’m clean, I swear.”

You look into his eyes and seeing the desperation in them makes you want to indulge him. “I’m clean too.”

Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank fucking god.”

“You better pull out, or I swear Jung—”

You fail to get the rest of your words out because he slams his cock into you. And you’re right—he is bigger than you remember. He bottoms out at your cervix and you feel like a mess already. You both moan at the feeling of being connected like this again, after so long, and Hoseok keeps his promise and wastes no time.

He thrusts into you hard and fast, leaving you to do nothing but take everything he has to give. “Fuck, Hoseok—oh my god.”

Earlier, he talked about fucking your past sexual exploits out of you, but there was no need to mention anything at all; no one compares to him. They never had a chance.

“Shit, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips.

And soon enough, you feel your orgasm approaching. It’s slow building, but it’s there and you want it. You figure you’ll just chase it yourself. Reaching a hand down, you find your clit and begin rubbing it. But just as soon as you feel yourself get closer to the high you desire, your hand is ripped away.

There is a sudden weight on your back as Hoseok whispers in your ear, “That’s my job, sweetheart.”

His fingers find your sensitive nub and you come immediately, screaming a string of curses into your arms in hopes that no one hears you. As you ride your high, you feel him pull out. With a groan, his cum spills all over your ass.

As you try to catch your breath and calm your erratic heart, you feel Hoseok pull his shorts back up and take a step back. All of the sudden, a strange feeling builds up in your chest. Is this what loss feels like? But you don’t have much time to dwell on your own thoughts because you feel a towel wiping your body.

You turn and see Hoseok cleaning the mess he made; but instead of looking down, he’s looking right at you.

“What?” you ask, sounding defensive.

“Nothing,” he says, and you hate that you can’t read people well. You wish you could know what he’s thinking right now.

After he cleans between your thighs, you pull your clothes back up your body. You still have a few hours left of your shift, so you hope you don’t look too much like a mess right now. Pulling your hair into a low ponytail, you feel awkwardness hit you like a truck. What are you supposed to say now?

“Uh…I have to go,” you can’t even look at him. “We have a meeting this afternoon…”

You don’t have a meeting, but you don’t know what else to say. But unlike you, Hoseok can take a hint and nods. “I’ll leave first…see you around…and thanks.”

He stares at you for a moment longer before leaving the room. You look out to make sure he’s a considerable distance away before you follow, ducking into the bathroom to check your appearance. Once you look into the mirror, you barely recognize the person you’re seeing.

The girl in front of you has flushed cheeks and sweaty hair.

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what happened. In all honesty, your body aches in the best possible way. And even after your shift, once you get home and lay in your bed, you’re still thinking about everything.

Did you really willingly have sex with Jung Hoseok a second time? Once is a mistake, twice clearly means there was choice involved. What would your roomie say if she knew? You don’t plan on telling her—at least, not until you get back to school. If she knew you had succumbed to his charms this early in the summer, she’d chew you out for sure. Besides, you won’t let it happen again.

There will be no more slip ups this summer.

***

“Oh, fuck—yes. Right there…!”

You cling to the shelf as Hoseok fucks you from behind. Your legs feel impossibly weak from being in such an uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t care less right now—you just want to come.

“Don’t be so loud, sweetheart,” he groans through clenched teeth. “Don’t want to get caught now, do we?”

“N-No…but if you d-don’t make me c-come quicker, Hoseok…” you moan, and he proceeds to thrust faster. You don’t want to scream, but it just feels so fucking good for you not to. “I’m going to—”

Hoseok clamps a hand over your mouth as you come undone. Your eyes shut on their own accord as you scream into his hand, body shaking from the impact of your orgasm. He curses, probably from how tight you’re gripping his cock, but continues to thrust a few more times before pulling out and painting you in strings of milky white.

Once your body shops shaking, he pulls you up and presses a kiss onto your exposed shoulder. “You’re amazing.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Thanks.”

The two of you quickly clean up and readjust your clothes. You’re supposed to be organizing after all—at the place you are working at for the summer—not fucking an old high school classmate. Hoseok leaves with a promise of finding you later, and you’re left alone with your thoughts again.

What just happened?

You really did mean it when you said that you didn’t want to have sex with Hoseok again, but here you are anyway. It’s already been a month since the first incident, and you’ve been sneaking quickies around the entire country club with Hoseok.

Every time you think you’re alone, he manages to find you and that infuriating smirk makes you helpless. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s already managed to make your panties drop. But even though he seeks you out for sex, every now and then he sticks around to have a conversation with you.

You feel your resolve crumbling away every time you get a glimpse of the human Hoseok.

“So, what are you studying in school?” he asked one day, settling beside you on the floor of the laundry room.

“Is it bad that I’m undecided?” You tried to laugh it off, but the sober expression on his face stopped you.

He shook his head. “No, you have time.”

And just like, all felt okay in the world.

“What about you?” you managed to ask.

The scrunch of his nose had been nearly undetectable, but you noticed it. “Business. My father wants me to take over the company one day.”

“And you don’t?” the question slipped past your lips without a second thought. You’d been horrified.

“I don’t mind business, but I don’t want my father’s. I’d rather start my own.”

This truth had been rather insightful, and you couldn’t help but change the way you looked at Hoseok—only a little though. You still thought he was an asshole.

After another moment pondering your idiocy, you go back to whatever you were doing before. Just as you place the last shampoo bottle on the rack, a knock sounds on the door. You jump, wondering if it’s Hoseok again; but when it opens, it’s just Soyoung. “Hey—you’ve been in here for a while. Almost done?”

If only she knew.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, just finished,” you try to smile. “Got a little distracted in here, I guess.” A little more than distracted.

Soyoung offers an understanding expression. “Feel that. These storage rooms can be a bit overwhelming.”

“Did you need something?” you ask, changing the conversation.

“I actually bring word from our manager. You don’t work tomorrow night, right?” Tomorrow is Saturday and one of the few days you actually have off this week. You’re dreading what Soyoung is about to tell you. “She asked if you could come in for a few hours—just to help with dinner. They’re expecting a big crowd tomorrow night since there’s a fundraiser happening during the day. It’ll be like three hours max.”

You think about it for a moment, rolling your lips between your teeth. Honestly, you don’t want to come in on your day off—who wants to work when they don’t have to—but three hours doesn’t sound so bad.

“Just three hours?”

Soyoung nods. “Just three hours. I’ll be helping with the dinner too, so we’ll get to work together. And afterwards, we can go to a party, if you want.”

That piques your interest, even though you aren’t one to go out often. “What party?”

“There’s a few houses on this property—they’re rented out to people who want to stay at the country club for an extended amount of time. And I heard from some of the other employees that a party is being hosted at one of the houses. Anyone and everyone is invited—even us.”

For some reason, you actually want to go to this party. Why? Maybe you just want to forget about Jung Hoseok’s charismatic smirk. A party should be a good distraction. So, you tell Soyoung that you’ll come work tomorrow and attend the party with her.

And the girl gives you hug, promising that it’ll be loads of fun.

You hope she’s right.

***

The next night, you arrive to work in a different version of your uniform. Instead of the usual polo and shorts the country club has you normally donned in, you’re wearing a long sleeve button up and black slacks. In your bag, you brought a change of clothes for later. Thankfully, you remembered to grab it on your way out. Imagine having to wear your server uniform to a party.

That would’ve been a social suicide.

You meet up with Soyoung for a few minutes before the dinner staff collects you all together. They debrief about tonight’s expectations and everyone’s roles. Next, they list all the jobs and when they call your name, you find out you’re going to be taking orders.

“Do I also need to bring the food out?” you ask.

One of the leaders shakes their head. “No, we’ll have people specifically there for that.”

After all the roles are established, dinner officially begins and you try not to look dumbstruck when you walk into the formal dining hall. This is the first time you’ve been in this room and it’s absolutely magnificent. You continue staring around for a moment before walking towards your section of the room—a row of tables by the window overlooking the setting sun.

You proceed taking orders from the first table—a family of four—and then the next—a group of six—before walking to a table that only seats two people. Probably a date. You barely look at the couple as you push a strand of loose hair behind your ear and pull out the notepad.

“Can I take your orders?” you ask, click your pen.

“Yes,” says a nasally voice to your right. You follow it, meeting the profile of a gorgeous girl. Long, silky hair drapes down her back in waterfalls and she’s wearing a tight pink dress. You think that she’ll turn her attention to you, but she doesn’t; she keeps staring at her date. “I’ll have the ratatouille. What about you, Hobi?”

Hobi? “I told you not to call me that, Nina.”

She pouts. “But you let me call you that when we were kids.”

“Yeah, we were kids then.”

You spare a look at Nina’s date and nearly falter when you realize who this Hobi is. It’s none other than Jung Hoseok himself. He’s wearing a fitted charcoal suit, hair slicked back slightly. Even from this view, you can tell his suit is expensive; definitely imported and tailored fitted to his body. Still, you can feel yourself salivating. The man looks like absolute sin, and you feel a sudden flash of jealousy because he’s on a date with someone else—someone he seems to know pretty well.

But you realize you have no right to feel that emotion at all. He’s not yours to have. You both just happen to be sexually compatible. That is all. You two never talked about being exclusive. He is allowed to see other girls, even though the thought makes you feel a little sick.

Hoseok brings his eyes to yours, flashing you a smirk that has your knees weak. “Y/n.”

“You two know each other?” Nina asks, but your eyes don’t move from his.

“A little,” he says. That’s an understatement.

“We just went to high school together,” you add, playing along with his little game. “We weren’t friends though, just happened to be in a few classes together.”

Hoseok feigns hurt, bringing a hand up to his chest. “Can’t believe you think so little of me.”

“Oh, Hobi,” Nina interjects, her hand finding his on top of the table. You zone in on the touch, blood pressure rising when you realize he hasn’t pushed her away.

You try not to roll your eyes. “Yes, poor Hobi.”

When you turn back to him, he’s already looking at you. You stiffen for a second, wondering if his eyes have been on you this whole time. And by the scathing sensation you feel on the side of your head—Nina’s eyes, no doubt—you realize he probably has. “Um. Anyway, what did you want?”

He smirks again. “I’ll have the same, y/n.”

You quickly jot it down and excuse yourself before you start thinking too much.

The rest of your short shift, you make sure not to walk by Hoseok’s table again. Whenever you’re around him, you can’t think properly. He always seems to cloud your best judgment, which is why you’ve already been fucking him this summer. You allow work to consume you, which makes the time fly by. Before you know it, the three hours is already up and you’re headed to the bathroom with Soyoung.

“See? Wasn’t that bad, huh?” she asks from the cubicle beside you.

It was terrible. “Could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“I’m so excited about the party,” Soyoung changes the conversation. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a night out.”

You can’t help the next words that bubble out of you. “Why do you overwork yourself?”

Honestly, you didn’t mean to ask. After all, it isn’t your business to ask such questions anyway. Sure, you were curious about Soyoung but it’s not your place. You’ve been really testing boundaries recently.

“It just kind of happens,” she answers, which shocks you. Not the answer itself, but the fact that she even answered you at all. “I’ve been working here for so long, I guess I just can’t help it.”

“Well,” you sigh, “don’t overwork yourself. Live a little, you know.”

Soyoung laughs. “I’ll try.”

You step out of the stall first, moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Tonight, you opted for a flowy crop top and tight skirt. Not something you’d usually wear, but tonight’s different than most nights—you want to enjoy yourself. You pull your hair out of its tight pony, humming in pleasure at the sensation of your hair being free.

“Okay, I see you with the sexy hair.”

You didn’t even hear Soyoung’s stall unlocking or opening. Turning in her direction, you see she’s wearing something similar to you. Only, both her top and skirt are flowy. “More like messy hair.”

She laughs. “It looks good still.”

After running a hand through your hair a few times, and fixing your makeup, the two of you throw your bags into your respective vehicles and walk across the country club’s property. Not even five minutes later, you can hear music playing. Across the distance, you can see a massive house—no, villa—lit up with lights and people all over the place.

“Woah,” you breathe.

“Right?” Soyoung chuckles. “I told you this party was going to be it.”

“I thought you said it was going to be a house party.”

“It is?” She seems confused.

You shake your head. “Are all the houses on the country club property this big?”

Even in the dim lighting, you can see her nod. “I think so. Maybe not this big, but they’re all large enough to house multiple people.”

Damn. You wonder who’s renting this place for the summer. It’s huge, so there must be more than one person; maybe a family? Though, that seems odd since a party filled with young people is happening right now. However, you can’t even begin to fathom how much it costs to rent. How can anyone actually afford that?

But all thoughts of money fade when you actually reach the villa. You assume there’s mainly college-aged people here, though it’s difficult to tell age these days. Soyoung leads the way as you two maneuver past groups of people and into the villa itself. Once inside, you have to force yourself not to gawk at everything.

Grand doesn’t even begin to describe the interior. There’s so much to look at and before you can even begin to look at everything, Soyoung pulls you away. She finds the kitchen and hands you a drink from the cooler. You remove the lid and begin sipping, tasting the slight bitterness of alcohol on your tongue.

“So what do we do now?” You’re acting like such a noob.

Soyoung slants a look at you. “We mingle, maybe dance a little. Do you like dancing?”

You bite the inside of your lip. “Umm, kind of?”

Of course, you’ve been to your fair share of college parties—where dancing and drinking do not mix well. But you don’t mind it; you just don’t think you’re very good. You voice this thought out loud and Soyoung rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to be good at dancing. You just have to do it. Usually, it comes naturally.”

You aren’t too sure about that statement. But as Soyoung pulls you in a new direction, away from the kitchen, you realize that you have no choice. In another large room adjacent to the kitchen, someone has started a makeshift dancefloor. The bass is booming against the wall and strobe lights illuminate the room.

Even though you’re struggling, Soyoung pulls you both into the middle of the room and spins you around to the music. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” she shouts over the music, proceeding to move her body dramatically. You can’t help but laugh. Shaking your head, you realize dancing really isn’t a big deal and you allow Soyoung to move you to the beat. And eventually, you can do it by yourself.

You close your eyes as you sway to the music, occasionally bumping into Soyoung on purpose. It even gets to the point where you feel comfortable enough to lift your arms into the air, which is something you’d never thought you’d do.

It’s not until a few songs later that you finally open your eyes. And when you do, you immediately meet his gaze.

A jolt of electricity goes up your spine at the look Jung Hoseok is giving you right now. He’s leaning against the fireplace in the room across from you, changed out of that expensive suit he was wearing earlier. Now, he’s only wearing the white button up—sleeves rolled to his elbows—and a pair of navy-blue shorts. In his hand he nurses a beer, and that’s when you realize he’s still with that girl from earlier.

You try to keep your expression neutral as you stare at them; but by the way Hoseok’s hard gaze morphs into something smugger, you know you’re doing a bad job at concealing your feelings.

Dammit.

You quickly whisper something to Soyoung about needing some air as you look for the nearest exit. Unfortunately, you don’t know your way around the house. You meander around for a moment before you find a door that leads to the backyard. Breathing a sigh of relief, you open the door and walk into the cool summer night.

There’s a pathway of rocks that leads to the dock of a body of water—a body of water that you didn’t even know existed. You aren’t sure what to call it; a large pond? Whatever it is, you take the pathway until you reach the end of the dock. There, you settle on the edge and stare at the murky depths.

Bodies of water like this were unpredictable. You had no idea how deep it actually was. It could seem shallow, but in actuality be sixty feet deep. For a second, you consider dipping your toes in; however, you decide against it. Who knows what’s in there?

You allow the echoes of cicadas and other small insects to fill your senses. Eventually, you even lay down on the dock and close your eyes, trying not to think too much about—

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes flash open. And as they adjust to the night, you make out Hoseok’s infuriating perfect face. He’s leaning over you, and it pisses you off that he looks good even from this obscene angle. “Go away.”

“Well, aren’t you grumpy,” he hums. “It seemed like you were having a great time shaking you’re a—”

“Hoseok,” you breathe. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to play your stupid games right now.”

He cracks a rare half-smile. “Who said anything about playing games?”

When you don’t answer him, Hoseok’s smile falls and he frowns. You don’t care what else he has to say; you really meant it when you said you’re not in the mood for him right now. However, the boy doesn’t seem to take the hint like he usually does. Because he settles right beside you on the dock, laying down so he’s now eye-level with you.

“You’re insufferable,” you roll your eyes, shifting away from him.

“That’s what you like about me.”

“Who said I liked you?”

“I think your actions speak louder than you think,” he says, sounding awfully calm right now, which is very unlike him. You have no other choice but to look at him. And when you do, your breath gets caught in your throat. Even in the darkness, his eyes seem to sparkle as he looks at you—so fucking intently like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You don’t like it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you force your eyes away, but his stare burns your skin anyway.

“You were jealous at dinner, weren’t you?”

The scoff that leaves your lips sounds beyond bitter. “No, of course not. Why would I be?”

“If you were jealous,” Hoseok begins, which makes your stomach churn, “don’t be.”

“Huh?” you ask, still not able to look at him.

“Don’t be,” he repeats. “Don’t be jealous of Nina.”

“I wasn’t jealous of—”

He cuts you off. “Don’t be jealous of her. She’s just a family friend.”

“But you two seem so close…”

Hoseok laughs. “I just entertain her because our parents have been friends forever. I’m pretty sure they want me to marry someone like her. I mean, she’s hot��—you suck in a breath— “but she’s not you.”

Your eyes finally give him and meet his, and he’s still staring at you. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

As you both look at each other, you expect him to say something. But he never does. Instead, he scoots a few inches closer to you—so close your noses are almost touching—and runs his fingers through your hair. Weaving his digits through your still messy hair, he pulls your head towards his and your lips meet.

And underneath the moonlight, you allow Hoseok to kiss you until your head is dizzy and you have no choice but to let him consume you again.

***

The next morning, you find yourself wrapped in pristine white sheets that feel like silk beneath your fingers. But that’s not the only thing you’re wrapped in. A heavy arm is slumped over your waist and the body heat emanating from him sets yourself ablaze.

Last night, after Hoseok bruised your mouth and skin with his lips at the dock, you asked him why he was at the party.

“This is my house,” he said so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Well, my house for the summer at least.”

“You’ve been here this whole time?”

He nodded. “Our actual house is in the city, and I hate driving back and forth so much—especially since I’m here with the guys nearly every day. So, my parents decided to rent this.”

You didn’t know what to say. But you realized there was nothing that needed to be said because since this is where he was staying, it meant his bedroom was here too. You let him walk you back to the villa and up the stairs into his room, to which you had to text Soyoung and let her know you were headed home early. A lie. You told her you felt sick. Another lie. But she didn’t seem to mind. She had found a few other employees of the country club there and would walk back with them.

After losing track of how many orgasms he gave you, youth both shared a bottle of vodka he had stashed underneath his bed. And tipsy you had no inhibitions.

Every question Hoseok asked, you answered honestly.

“Favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Do you like working at the country club?”

“It’s a job.”

“If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

“Spend my life away on some island.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Island life s-seems fun. It’s relaxing. You don’t have to worry about anything,” you slightly slurred your words. “You?”

“I think island life seems to be the move now.”

You both talked so much. About anything and everything. It reminded you so much of the first time you really spoke to him. Moments like this made Hoseok feel normal, which you don’t know how to feel about yet.

But one thing you realized you did enjoy was his laugh—his real laugh. Not the one he smirked with, but the one he gave when he thought no one else was watching.

You must’ve said something stupid—you honestly can’t recall it now—but when he doubled over in laughter, it was infectious.

The good thing is that you don’t have work today, which means you don’t have to rush anywhere. But you have a feeling that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You didn’t even mean to stay the night, but you’d been so comfortable in Hoseok’s bed that you fell asleep after all the conversations. It was probably the best sleep you’ve ever had.

You’re going to give the credit to Hoseok’s expensive mattress, and definitely not him.

Though, you can’t deny how good it feels to have him spooning you. A part of you wants to stay in this bed forever, but that’s crazy talk—you shouldn’t have come into the bed with him at all. You keep telling yourself—over and over again—that you don’t want to fuck him again.

But you’ve been such a liar.

Now, you’ve accepted the fact that you can’t resist him. You know it’s just sex, but you didn’t want to get involved with him in the first place.

You take in a few breaths as you try to move his arm off of you. Hoseok shifts a little, and you risk a look over your shoulder. When your eyes take in his face, your heart stutters for a moment. With his mouth slightly parted and eyes still firmly closed, you realize that he looks so peaceful asleep. So vulnerable. You have to force yourself from touching him.

What the fuck, y/n?

Turning back around, you gently pry his arm off of you and pray that you don’t wake him. But all your careful maneuvering proves to be futile because his arm releases from your grip and moves back down to your waist. With a squeal, Hoseok pulls you back on his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” God, his morning voice is so hot.

“Um, leaving?” you sound like an idiot.

“Stay,” he breathes against the back of your head.

You want to. You really, really want to. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asks, snaking his arms underneath the covers to find you—skin still bare from last night’s activities. Your breath hitches as his fingers trail across your skin, each touch feeling like sparks.

“I-I have somewhere I have to be,” you stutter as his rough hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing tight. Your nipple hardens immediately.

Hoseok slips the covers off your body, exposing you to the cool air-conditioned room. And without warning, he moves on top of you and begins trailing his lips over your body. You notice that he makes sure to suck those bruises he left scattered across your skin extra hard, purpling them even more.

“Hoseok,” you try not to moan. “I really have t-to—”

His lips crashing onto yours shuts you up. You kiss him back forcefully, nipping his lips with your teeth and running your tongue across his. As you two battle it out, he settles in-between your thighs. Bringing a hand down your abdomen, it slides straight to your cunt—which is already drenched.

He hisses against your lips. “So fucking wet. Thought you had to go?”

“Shut up,” you moan as he runs a finger from your ass to your clit, swirling your juices everywhere. Involuntarily, your hips buck up when he slides a finger inside of you. He gently fucks you like that for a moment, leaving you writhing underneath him. “More, Hoseok—I need more.”

A wicked smile erupts on his face. “Are you going to beg for it?”

An incredulous expression lights your face. You’ve never begged in bed before, and you aren’t going to start now. However, the man on top of you is sure getting a kick out of this. Hoseok moves his finger slowly out of you, which agitates you to no end. If you weren’t so horny right now, you’d kill him.

“No,” you narrow your eyes, not willing to give in.

His finger stops moving. “A shame, really.”

You freeze. “What the fuck, Jung Hoseok?”

“I’m not doing anything until you say please,” he smirks, moving his upper body away from you.

Even though you’re pissed, you can’t help but drink in the Adonis in front of you. Like you, Hoseok is completely naked. Your eyes rake his defined muscles and his thick cock that’s already unbelievably hard. He’s hard for you. The fact that you turn him on makes you feel good—too good.

“Fine,” you shrug, and his smirk falls. “Just get blue balls then.”

As his body goes slack for a moment, you use the opportunity to slip from the bed. But you don’t manage to get very far at all. You probably only take three steps before his arm wraps around you and pulls you back to the bed.

You fall on your back, and Hoseok pins your arms on either side to keep you from moving. Still, you squirm—heart drumming in your chest at the look on his face. His eyes have turned black, and he looks like he wants to devour you. “I’m not begging.”

“We’ll see about that.”

With your arms still pinned, Hoseok lowers his body and your legs spread on their own accord. Fuck you, body. The movement makes him chuckle darkly and he begins peppering kisses along your thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat, which turns into a gasp when he suddenly bites down on your flesh. Not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to be painful.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you like it very much.

Hoseok continues alternating between kissing and biting your thighs until you’re one-hundred-percent positive there is a pool of your wetness on the bed. You know what he’s trying to do and it’s working, but you don’t want to give in. And then he’s so close to your pussy, not even an inch away. You can feel his breath fanning you there. If you just move your hips a little…

“Don’t even think about it,” he moves his head away.

You release a groan of frustration. “Oh my god.”

“If you just say the magic word,” he taunts, lips now on your stomach. He moves low, but never low enough; never where you want him to go.

When he moves up your body, pressing chaste kisses on your nipples before latching his lips on your neck, you release a breathy moan. Hoseok lets out a groan from the back of his throat, hands tightening around your wrists. Fuck, why are the noises he makes even attractive? “Hoseok…”

“Y/n,” he’s still sucking on your neck.

This position, you realize, aligns him perfectly with your body. Again, if you were able to move just a little bit…but Hoseok’s weighing you down with his body, not allowing you to move at all.

“Hoseok,” you say his name again, but he doesn’t respond—he just moves his lips to your ear, nibbling on the sensitive flesh there. And that’s when you crumble. You can’t take it anymore. “Please…please just fuck me already.”

Simultaneously, he curses into your ear as he slides his cock into you. Too perfect—the way he fills you up is too perfect.

You expect Hoseok to fuck you hard, hips slamming into you, but he doesn’t. His thrusts are slow, but the way he hits your cervix has you nearly in tears. Fuck. He releases the hold on your wrists to grip onto either side of your face. With lips ghosting over yours, you tangle your hands into his dark hair.

Your breaths mesh together as he continues to fuck you with slow, measured thrusts. You’ve grown accustomed to the rough way Hoseok likes to fuck; but for some reason, you love this so much more. It’s intimate and makes your chest tighten in a strange way but feels so good you don’t want it to stop.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips again.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, rolling his hips in a way that has you arching off the bed. Yes.

“Just like t-that,” you say, slanting your mouth to mold against his again.

Your orgasm comes without warning; you moan into Hoseok’s mouth, gripping him closer to you and you ride your high. Through the haze of your earth-shattering orgasm, you hear Hoseok ask if he can come inside you. He’s always pulled out—even last night when he fucked you for hours. But right now you don’t care, and your answer comes in the form of your legs wrapping around his hips.

He kisses you hard and comes inside you a moment later. You’ve never let anyone else come raw inside of you; never trusted anyone else that much. And in that moment, a terrifying thought flashes across your mind.

I’m in love you.

The thought comes so suddenly, burns your brain so hotly, your body stills. Hoseok finally lifts off of you, eyes crinkling in concern. “You okay?”

You quickly try to shake the feeling away. “Um, yeah.”

“You sure? Should I not have come inside you?” he slips out of you, and for some reason you want to cry at the sudden emptiness you feel. “You’re looking pale right now.”

“No, it was fine,” you blink too fast, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes. Get a fucking grip on yourself. “I’m sorry, I really have to go.”

Hoseok doesn’t try to stop you this time when you move away from the bed. You find your clothes on the floor and slip everything back on without looking at him, even though you can feel his gaze on you the entire time. Not bothering to check your appearance, you grab your stuff and move towards his door.

“Y/n,” he calls your name, voice sounding strange, but you don’t want to look at him. If you look at him, you’re going to start crying. And that’s too embarrassing to explain.

You slip out of his bedroom and take the stairs two at a time. As you rush down, you run into someone. “Sorry—”

Looking up, you realize it’s Seokjin; he must’ve stayed the night. Even in your distress, you feel feverish wondering if you were too loud. However, he takes one look at you and stares like he has you all figured out. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Did something happen…?” he asks, looking at the door you just left wide open upstairs.

“Don’t worry about it,” you quickly say, adverting your eyes and sidestepping him.

This morning, it’s much easier to find the front door. Just as you’re about to slip out, you hear your name being called again, heavy steps thundering down the stairs. Shit, shit, shit. You break into a run and don’t stop until you have no more air to spare in your lungs. Thankfully, you’re far enough from the villa and close to the country club.

Only then do you allow yourself to fall into the grass as the tears finally cascade down your cheeks.

You’re a fool, you realize. A fool to have fallen in love with someone like Jung Hoseok. Someone who will never feel the same way. Someone who just uses you for a good time. someone who you barely even know. Someone you never wanted to get involved with.

***

You call out of work the next week, claiming to have the stomach bug. But you don’t have the stomach bug; in fact, you’re not even physically ill at all. You just can’t bear the thought of running into Hoseok at the country club.

On the first day, you listen to your sad girl hours playlist on repeat.

During your second day of moping in bed, you half consider quitting your job. Would it be too cowardly? Maybe. Unfortunately, there’s only a few weeks left of summer and you doubt that you’ll be able to find another job.

When the third day arrives, you finally get out of bed and take a proper shower. You didn’t realize how much you needed it.

Your mom knocks on your door on the fourth day. You only know it’s her by the way she taps on your door rhythmically; she’s always done that ever since you were a child. When you don’t respond, she dares to crack the door open. Shit, you forgot to lock it last night.

“Are you feeling better, love?”

You don’t move on the bed, hoping your mother thinks you’re asleep or something. But despite you not moving, she still shuffles into your room and settles herself on the edge of the bed.

“Is this because I haven’t been spending time with you this summer?”

No, mom. It’s me. I fucked up. Although, I would appreciate it if you did spend time with me—like you dragged me here this summer to do.

“I’m really sorry, love,” she whispers, getting up after a moment.

Once you’re sure she’s by the door, you finally open your mouth. “It’s not because of you. It’s…something else.”

You hear her grab onto the door, but she doesn’t say another word before leaving you all alone again.

On the fifth day, the bruises that littered your skin finally start fading. Glancing into the mirror of your bathroom, you run your fingers along the—now greenish-yellow—hickies he left on your neck. Goodness, there were so many. And annoyingly enough, you can still feel exactly where he had touched you—like his hands are still there right now.

Pulling your t-shirt down, you see more evidence of Hoseok’s assault on your chest. You have to stop yourself from looking at the rest of your body.

The sixth day you, finally, spend time pondering that terrifying thought you had about Hoseok. Are you actually in love with him? Do you even know what love feels like? What even is love? You’ve always been an overthinker, and these questions only make your head spin more. But after hours and hours of teetering the files of your brain, you do know one thing.

You like him.

You like Hoseok a lot.

It might not be love—perhaps that had been your sex-brain talking—but you were definitely starting to fall for him. You don’t know when or where the change happened, or maybe you’ve always liked him, but it feels good to finally admit the truth to yourself.

Now, the real challenge was if you would tell him.

Would it be worth it?

***

“Y/n, I seriously thought you’d quit!”

Soyoung is the first person you run into on your first day back. You just thank god it’s her and not someone else. You flash her a quick smile and greeting. “Hey.”

“What happened to you?” she asks, walking beside you down the hall.

“Stomach bug,” the lie passes surprisingly easily through your lips. Good thing you had enough time to practice saying those words out loud.

Soyoung makes a face. “That must’ve been awful, but I’m glad you’re well enough to be here.”

“Yeah, totally.”

She leaves you at the golf cart and you get into the seat with a sigh. Over the month and whatever weeks you’ve been here, driving the cart now feels like second nature. You no longer bump into displays or people.

As you drive around the green, you make a stop at every hole and offer the players drinks. At the beginning of summer, you’d been a little apprehensive about this job. However, it turns out, working as the drink cart girl isn’t half bad. The tips you make are worth being out in the scorching summer sun.

Towards the end of your round, you feel your nerves twist. You’re relieved that you haven’t seen Hoseok; then again, a part of you is worried. Why isn’t he here? He’s always here. Every single time you’ve driven on the range, he’s been here.

Where is he today?

Soon, you realize that you didn’t need to worry at all.

At the last hole, you see him—well, them. Hoseok, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jeongguk are together, like they always seem to be. Inseparable. For a second, you think about skipping them, but then you overhear their conversation.

“Damn, Hoseok,” Jeongguk whistles, leaning against his club, “this is the worst game you’ve ever played.”

“He played worse than Namjoon,” Seokjin snickers.

Namjoon narrows his eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“You lack coordination,” Seokjin explains to his friend, as if that was supposed to make the burn better. “And Hoseok usually always wins.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he hasn’t played well all week,” Jeongguk twists his lips.

“Dude probably hasn’t had ass in a week,” Namjoon comments.

“I’m right fucking here, assholes.”

You finally allow your eyes to settle on the man of the hour. Like his friends have suggested, he does seem off today. Normally, the Jung Hoseok you know is easy going, laid back. He’s usually cocky and charismatic. Every time you’ve seen him play golf, he’s amazing. He always swings with blind sureness—like he knows the ball will hit green. But the man you’re looking at right now is beyond tense and agitated.

“You’re no fun today,” Jeongguk pouts.

“He hasn’t been fun all week,” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Not since the house party.”

Your hands stiffen on wheel. Hoseok’s been in a mood for a whole week? You try to find the answer to your own question in his eyes, but he hasn’t looked in your direction yet. In fact, none of them seem to realize you’re close. They all seem to be thrown off their usual balance. That obvious fact makes you realize you should probably just skip them. But as you lift your foot to press the gas pedal, Seokjin notices you.

Damn. Why is he always the first one to see you?

His eyes widen at your appearance. “Just the girl I was thinking about.”

That statement draws everyone else from their stupor and towards you. You watch as Jeongguk and Namjoon’s eyes also widen, but the only pairs of eyes you really care about right now can’t even meet yours. Hoseok shoots you a glance before twisting away, jaw hardened. Ouch. You feel a pang in your chest.

For some reason, his dismissal hurts more than anything else right now.

“Glad you finally arrived,” Seokjin continues talking, walking closer to you. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

It was weird to have Seokjin speak so much to you. The only person you ever really spoke to was Hoseok, but it seems like he’s the last person who wants to talk to you right now. Maybe coming into work was a bad idea.

“I think you should talk to him,” he says, and it was your turn to have wide eyes.

“I don’t know…” What could you even say to him? You don’t know where to begin because you don’t know what kind of relationship you have with Hoseok. Did you want a relationship with him? Did he even feel the same way?

“He’s been a fucking wreck all week because of you, you know?”

Your chest hurts. “Really?”

Seokjin nods. “I mean, the guy’s always a pain in the ass…” he rolls his eyes, “but it’s worse now.”

Maybe you hadn’t been the only one suffering this past week. As horrible as it sounds, the thought makes you feel…hopeful.

“We’ll take your cart back and cover for you, if you want.”

You stare at Seokjin and find yourself nodding. “Okay.”

He calls Jeongguk and Namjoon over, asking you to get out of the cart. “Don’t worry—we won’t steal your money.”

It’s a joke. You know it’s a joke. Still, you can’t help the next that slip past your lips unconsciously. “Like you all need it.”

The three of them laugh at you as they pile into the cart. Before you can say anything else, they drive off—leaving you alone with the one person you’re most nervous to speak to. He’s still turned away from you, staring off into the distance. You will your heart to stop racing as you wipe your sweaty hands on the back of your shorts.

Calm down.

You take a deep breath before you decide it’s now or never. Deciding it is time, you take the tentative steps towards Hoseok and run a million different scenarios in your head. What’s the worst thing that can happen? He tells you to fuck off and never speak to him again?

Nausea settles into your throat at the idea.

By the time you run another worst-case-scenario into your head, you’re just a few steps behind him. Closer to him now, you feel like you’re going to burst at the seams. You stare at his disheveled hair—like he’s been running a hand through it all day—and stiff body. Despite his rigid posture, he’s still the most handsome person you’ve ever seen.

You don’t know long you stand there and stare at Hoseok, but you don’t jolt out of your daze until you hear his voice.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?”

“Oh, you’re—I mean, I—” you fumble with your words, nervously twitching your hands. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk.”

“It’s kind of hard to talk to someone who doesn’t even like me,” he says, finally turning to face you.

What? “Hoseok—”

“I know you hate me, so I won’t bother you again, if that’s what you wanted to talk about,” his voice is detached, and you realize you’ve never seen this side of him before. No wonder his friends were fed up with him. You would’ve been too. “Sorry if I annoyed you this summer.”

Without another word, he begins to walk away from you. What the hell is going on? You shake your head as you march up to him and grab onto his shirt. “Stop.”

“Y/n…”

“Hoseok, shut up!” You bring your eyes up to glare at him. “Just—just let me talk first, okay?”

His eyes are still cold, but you can see a bit of softness pool in them. “Fine.”

“You’re an idiot,” you breathe, dropping your fist and feeling something prick your vision. “I-I don’t hate you…I don’t hate you at all. And I don’t want you to stop bothering me. Yes, you’re annoying”—you feel him take a step away— “but I like it. I like you. I like you a lot, Hoseok. So much…I don’t even know—”

He stops your rambling with his lips. The kiss makes your heart soar and ache all at once because it feels so damn good—Hoseok feels so damn good. But it ends all too soon when he pulls away.

“I like you too.”

“Then why are you being so mean to me?” You feel an onslaught of tears flow down your cheeks.

Hoseok wipes a tear away with his thumb. “Because I thought you hated me.”

“Well, I don’t,” you sniffle.

“Then, why’d you leave?”

You know he’s talking about that morning. Do you tell him the truth? “Because I thought I was in love with you.”

“Love?” he chokes, and you feel a blush heat your face. “What made you think that?”

“Uh…it was just a sudden thought,” you awkwardly scratch the side of your face. “But I thought about it, and it’s not love…at least, not yet.”

You say that last part so quietly, you don’t think Hoseok even heard. However, the way his eyes gloss over for a moment lets you know that he did. You’re even more embarrassed now. You try to cover your face, but he grabs both of your hands before you can.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, yeah?” Look at him being the rational one here.

You nod, agreeing with him. “So, we like each other.”

“We do,” he says, suddenly pulling you closer to him. Your body hums being so close to him. Being close like this, you’re able to wrap your arms around him and does the same—hand moving to the back of your neck to tilt your head back. At this angle, you’re exposed to him.

“So, what are we?” you dared to ask the question.

Hoseok ghosts his lips over you. “I don’t like sharing.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I haven’t been with anyone else this summer.”

It’s the truth. You haven’t even looked twice at anyone else. You haven’t desired anyone else. You don’t think you ever can again. Jung Hoseok has ruined you.

“Me either.”

“You and Nina—”

“We’re just family friends, remember?” he cuts you off.

“She clearly likes you.”

“Well, she’s not you. I’ve told you that before.”

He did. And, for some reason, you believed him.

“So, what are we?” you ask again, looking up at Hoseok to gauge what he’s going to say. He stares down at you for a moment before that smirk you know all too well graces his lips. As irritating as it is, you’ve missed it.

“We’re dating,” his eyes sparkle, before dimming a little. “If you’ll have me.”

Warmth pools in your stomach as you nod. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering (Part Six)

previous chapter

Summary: Spencer comes face to face with a ghost from the past.

A/N: Hey... how y’all doin? Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that - hopefully this extra long update will make up for my absence. This has definitely been my favorite part thus far, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. You guys know the drill by now: SPOILERS for season 12. Also, shoutout to @zhuzhubii​ for posting the absolute best set of gifs right in time for this update - you’re the coolest.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, mentions of rape, mentions of mental illness, kidnapping, choking

Word Count: 10.3k

           With every clack of my heels on the concrete floors, the nervous feeling in my gut grows into full blown nausea. It’s been nearly two months since I last walked these halls, but somehow it feels like a lifetime has passed. Considering everything that transpired in the last forty-eight hours, it makes sense that I feel that way.

           I hadn’t been on the team when Lindsey Vaughn first came into the picture ten years ago, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t familiar. At the time, I thought nothing of the kind neighbor that I sometimes passed in the stairwell on my way to Spencer’s apartment. I mean, why would I? I had no reason to be suspicious. Our interactions never went beyond the usual pleasantries – polite smiles and the occasional greeting – and I never gave her a second thought.

           Maybe if I had, Cassie wouldn’t be dead, and Spencer’s mother wouldn’t be missing.

           I shake my head at the thought. Now isn’t the time to ruminate on what ifs. I would have plenty of time to blame myself when all of this is over. Instead of torturing myself, I focus on trying to steady my breathing as I come to a stop just before I reach the interview room of the Milburn Correctional Facility.

           I know what lies beyond that door, and I’m equal parts excited and worried. Excited, because I’d finally be able to see Spencer after two long months of daydreaming about when I’d finally hold him in my arms again. Of course, it was very possible that Spencer wouldn’t want to see me. After all, I promised to keep his mother safe, and instead of doing that, I let myself get swept up in moving in to my apartment, and now Diana was God knows where.

           I was so sure that he wouldn’t want to see me that I’d initially suggested that Emily be the one to go to the prison and get him. My idea was met with a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder.

           “I think that if it was anyone but you standing there when they open that door, it’d break his heart.”

           Her reassurances did little to assuage my nerves. I spent the entire ride here running over every possible scenario that I could imagine, scrambling to form some kind of game plan. But now that I was here, any semblance of preparedness left me the second the guard reached for the door handle.

           “You ready, ma’am?”

           Yes.

           No.

           I don’t trust my voice, so I settle on nodding my head. The door opens with a groan, rusty hinges creaking in protest, and with shaky legs and a heart that threatens to beat out of my chest, I step into the doorway.

           It’s like the world stops turning on its axis when his eyes meet mine. Those familiar pools of caramel stare back at me with such an intensity that I force myself to look away, petrified at the prospect of seeing disappointment in them. 

           I trail my eyes over his frame, drinking in every inch of him - every bruise and every scrape feeling like a dagger to my heart. My eyes linger on the bandage adorning his left arm, before trailing down to the one on his leg. Emily had warned me about happened, about Spencer injuring himself in order to secure his safety. It was smart of him - that I knew - but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t horrified. 

           His hair has gotten longer, and his curls hang limply around his face. The usually clean-shaven Spencer I once knew was a thing of the past - replaced now by a more disheveled, scruffier version.

           Clean-shaven or not, he still looks just as breathtaking as always. 

           I hesitantly raise my eyes up to his again. He’s staring at me still, mouth parted in shock. He doesn’t look angry, just confused, and that fills me with a tiny sliver of hope.

           “Hi, Spence,” I murmur, voice thick with emotion. It’s not until I speak that I realize I’m crying, and I hastily wipe at my cheeks with my shirtsleeve.

           The dazed look in Spencer’s eyes washes away when he hears my voice and he blinks hard.

           “What… H-How are you…?” he trails off, eyes moving up and down my body.

           It feels so fucking good to hear his voice again, and I find myself unable to hold back a sob.

           “M’ here to take you home,” I choke out.

           It’s like all the tension in Spencer’s body is expelled at once and his shoulders slump in relief. I open my mouth to elaborate, to explain how Emily had managed to pull this off, but I’m stunned into silence when Spencer’s body collides with mine. I hadn’t even had time to process that he was moving before his arms snake around me, tugging me forward until there’s no space in between our bodies. Spencer’s hands collect fistfuls of my shirt, clinging desperately to the fabric as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck.

           Once I get over the initial shock, I’m hugging him back, arms locked around his torso in a vicelike grip. He doesn’t smell the same – the usual fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla is long gone, replaced with that of some generic detergent – but the way his broad shoulders feel underneath my palms is something so familiar that I can’t help but smile against his chest.

           This is still my Spencer.

           Spencer lets out a shaky breath against my skin and I let out an involuntary shudder at the feeling.

           “Missed you so fucking much,” Spencer whispers. “I-I can’t believe you’re here. Thought I was imagining it.” Spencer takes a shaky breath in, nuzzling further into my neck. His next words are muffled from the way his lips press against my skin, but I’m still able to make out the quiet ‘I’m sorry’.

           “You’re sorry?” I hiccup, eyebrows scrunching up in disbelief. I attempt to pull away so that I can look at him, but Spencer only tightens his grip on me. Something about it makes my chest feel incredibly warm, but I push that feeling aside for now. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I should’ve done more – I should’ve visited more often. I let myself get busy, and if I’d just been more careful, then your m-mom… she wouldn’t be-”

           “Stop that,” Spencer interrupts, and this time he’s the one that pulls away. He holds me at arm’s length and those beautiful brown eyes lock with mine. “This is absolutely not your fault.”

           Spencer’s hands come up to cup either side of my face and his thumbs wipe away at the tears on my cheeks. “You’ve done so much for me – for her. I’m sorry that I took you off the list. Things were getting so bad here, and if something would have happened to you…” Spencer pauses, closing his eyes and leaning down until his forehead rests against mine. “It was never because I didn’t want to see you, I promise. And… And your letter - I can’t even begin to explain how much that helped. I’m sorry that I couldn’t write back. I didn’t know what to say. Especially not after…”

           He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m able to fill in the blanks myself. I bring my hand up and rest it on top of his.

           “S’okay, Spence. I know,” I whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand.”

           Spencer hums and a ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

           “Time to get you out of here, Doc.” I remove his hand from my face and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go get your mom back.”

           Spencer opens his eyes and for the first time in two months I’m on the receiving end of my favorite smile in the whole world.

           I lead him from the room, never once removing my hand from his. Now that I have him back, I don’t ever want to let go.

--

           For the second time today, the clacking of my heels against the concrete floor is the only sound that can be heard. Spencer moves silently beside me, his face pulled into a somber expression as we stalk down the long corridor. His hand brushes against mine, and I long to reach out and intertwine our fingers like I had only hours before. I suppress the urge, stealing one last, poorly concealed glance at him before I settle my gaze on the door at the end of the hall.

           In the last several hours, the entire case had been flipped upside down. We’d been wrong all along – Scratch wasn’t to blame for the shit show that had transpired over the last three months. It’d been an easy enough mistake to make. After the incident with Tara’s brother, Scratch was the obvious choice. Pair that with the fact that Spencer had been drugged and we had no reason to suspect anyone else.

           Cat Adams was the last thing on everyone’s mind when Mexico happened. It’d been over a year since Spencer outsmarted her in that restaurant, and she was very much out of sight and out of mind. She was in a maximum-security prison, for fuck’s sake. That alone should have rendered her unable to carry out a scheme this convoluted.

           But apparently that meant nothing, because Cat had somehow managed to be the mastermind behind this whole ordeal, perfectly orchestrating the entire thing from her cell in solitary confinement – using Lindsey Vaugh as her metaphorical puppet on a string. We’d sorely underestimated Cat, and our arrogance had come back to bite us all in the ass.

           A guard that stands at the end of the hall opens the door for us, and I feel an intense rush of foreboding as we step into the room. The sound of the guard closing the door behind us brings a sense of finality to the situation; there is no turning back now. Either we walk out of here knowing Diana’s whereabouts, or we miss the mark completely and loose Diana in the process.

           I cast a worried look at Spencer, whose eyes are trained on the double-sided glass. The tension has returned to his shoulders, and his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. There’s a sort of fiery determination in his eyes – a sort of menacing resolve that I’d never seen in him before.

           Spencer looks intimidating, and nothing like the Spencer that was led from the courtroom three months ago. I pull my eyes away in favor of looking through the glass.

           Reid had been able to see through Cat’s mind games the first time, but the Cat that sat on the other side of that door is a far cry from the one he encountered a year ago. If she’d looked cold and calculating before, she looks downright deranged now.

           “Are you sure you want to go in there alone?” I ask after a moment. “I could-”

           “No,” Spencer cuts me off. His tone is hard and definite, warning me not to argue. “I can’t ask you to do that. Emily shouldn’t have made you come in the first place.”

           “Emily told me to come with you because she knew that there was nothing she could do to make me stay.” I pause long enough to shoot him a weak smile. “Hope you enjoyed your three-month break from me, because I’m going to practically glued to your side from now on. You’ll be dying to get rid of me in a month’s time.”

           Spencer’s lips twitch, threatening to turn up into a smile.

           “I sincerely doubt that.”

           “We’ll see,” I breeze. “But I’m serious, Spence. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the whole time – I’m not letting you go in there alone, and I’m not going to leave you.”

           “Promise?” Spencer asks, finally pulling his eyes away from the window in favor of looking at me. There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and the weight of his gaze is so heavy that I worry I might buckle under it.

           I reach for his hand and hook my pinky finger around his, lifting our intertwined hands to eye level.

           “I promise.”

           Spencer’s pinky finger squeezes mine and he closes his eyes.

           “I don’t deserve you.”

           “You deserve the world, Spence.”

           For a moment I think he’s going to say something else, but then Spencer’s lips press into a tight line and he only nods in response. He releases my hand and I let it fall limply at my side. Spencer rolls his shoulders back, and that stony expression returns to his face. He reaches out and pulls open the door, and I follow closely behind him at he steps over the threshold.

           It’s as if I’m invisible; Cat doesn’t even spare me a glance when I enter the room. Her eyes, narrowed and sparkling with amusement, hone in on Spencer immediately.

           “Spencie,” she greets, smiling deviously up at him.

           “Where’s my mother?” Spencer asks, completely devoid of emotion.

           “I missed you.”

           “What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you-”

           Cat raises a hand, effectively cutting him off. She points a finger at him, and the smile that she previously wore is replaced by a grimace.

           “Now, stop. You don’t get to walk in here and hiss at me like I’m the criminal. No – we’re going to do this my way.” Cat kicks the chair that sits on the opposite side of the table and Spencer reaches out to grab it. “Have a seat.”

           Spencer complies and Cat’s smile returns.

           “How was prison? Did you like it?”

           “No.”

           Cat hums.

           “It’s not fun, is it?”

           “Unlike you, I didn’t deserve to be there,” Spencer retorts.

           Cat leans forward, crossing her arms before resting them on the metal table.

           “How did you stay sane? A brain like yours needs stimulation in such a gray place.”

           “I worked in the laundry room and I played chess.”

           “That’s three, maybe four hours, tops. What about the other twenty?”

           “I read.”

           Cat shakes her head. “That’s still not enough. You have to… go someplace.” She taps the side of her head. “Up here. Or else you go crazy. Do you want to see where I go? I’ll show you.” Cat crooks a finger at Spencer, and I tense at the gesture. The idea of that psychotic bitch getting any closer to him makes my skin crawl. I clench my fists together and the feeling of my nails digging into my palms is enough to ground me.

           Spencer leans forward, mimicking Cat’s relaxed position. She reaches a hand out towards him, and before I can think better of it, I speak up.

           “Hands off,” I warn.

           Cat halts her movements and fixes me with an irritated expression, looking me up and down distastefully before turning her attention back to Spencer.

           “Close your eyes,” she instructs him. Spencer complies. “Good. Now keep them closed. Sit back and relax. When you open your eyes, I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months.”

           I clench my jaw at that. Something stirs in my chest – something foreign and possessive that has me bristling. I tense, watching closely as Spencer opens his eyes and smiles that beautiful smile at Cat. My stomach turns painfully at the sight.

           “Hello, Cat,” Spencer greets her, and all the contempt his tone previously held is gone – replaced with a neutrality that bordered on happiness.

           Cat lets out a pleased laugh.

           “You’re here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms out as she gestures about the room. “You’re really here.”

           “There is nowhere else I would rather be,” Spencer replies, sounding startlingly genuine.

           This is all an act, I remind myself. Spencer’s just playing a part. None of this is real.

           Cat crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him.

           “You’re good at this. You’re so good at this that I almost believe that you don’t want to kill me.”

           “I don’t want to kill you,” Spencer says with a shake of his head.

           “No?”

           “No.”

           Cat narrows her eyes at him.

           “What if I let your mother die?” she inquires. “Then would you kill me? Or would you just…” Cat trails of as she leans forward. “… Hurt me? Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don’t go away?”

           I swallow hard against the bile that threatens to crawl its way up my throat. Spencer might not want to kill her, but I do.

           “Is that what you want?”

           Cat shrugs her shoulders.

           “I guess I just want to know if you would – if you could.”

           Spencer gives a small shake of his head.

           “No.”

           “No?” Cat taunts, cocking her head to the side.

           “It’s not the kind of man I am.”

           Cat’s face drops and her eyes narrow into slits.

           “Do me a favor and tell your little chaperone over there to step aside, because we’re going to play another game. And this time, we’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”

           Spencer’s eyes flit to me and he nods towards the door. I open my mouth to argue, but the pleading look in his eyes has me clamping it shut. It’s okay, his eyes seem to tell me. I know you promised, but I’ll be fine.

Cat waves at me as I reluctantly move towards the door. When the door clicks shut behind me, Spencer takes it as his invitation to continue.

           “Let’s play,” his voice sounds through the speaker to my left.

           “Let’s!” Cat exclaims before resting her head in her hand.

           “So, is it the same game as last time?” Spencer inquires. “I answer every question you ask honestly?”

           “No,” Cat sighs out. “This time you get to ask the questions.”

           Spencer raises an eyebrow at her. “About what?”

           “Well, I know a secret about you. And you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. If you guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey, and I tell her to release your dear mother unharmed. If you don’t…” Cat trails off, before mimicking bringing a gun up to her mouth and firing.

           Crazy fucking bitch.

           “Is there a clock?”

           “There’s always a clock.” Cat holds out her hand, eyes flicking down to Spencer’s watch. “Give it to me.”

           I cringe when Spencer hesitates – I know what he must be thinking. That’s Gideon’s watch. The only thing he has left of him. I’d never seen Spencer without it in the two years I’ve known him.

           Spencer reluctantly slips the watch off of his wrist and hands it over.

           Cat smirks and slides the watch onto her arm.

           “Now, you’ll have four hours.”

           “Do you want to give me a hint before we start?”

           Cat chuckles. “Do I look like a girl that gives hints?”            “Actually, you do.”

           Cat takes pause, looking Spencer up and down before speaking.

           “Okay, how about this; it’s a secret you’ll never admit to.”

--

           “I know what the secret is.”

           Cat quirks an eyebrow up at Spencer.

           “You do?”

           He nods. “Why else would you put me through all this?”

           “Ooh, phrasing it in the form of a question that way it doesn’t count as a guess. Very smart, Doctor.”

           “I’m gonna walk you through a scenario, and your face is going to tell me how close I am,” Spencer murmurs, an amused smile on his lips. He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was going to Mexico, you took it. You and Lindsey framed me for murder so I’d be put in a prison and treated like a criminal, and then you kidnapped my mother so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated, because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

           Cat feigns a yawn in response.

           “Mm. Sorry, I couldn’t hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”

           “Psychopaths tend to get bored easily.”

           “You’re right. Let’s speed this up,” Cat sighs with a roll of her eyes. She pushes away from the table, standing up and walking over to Spencer’s side of the table. I fight the urge to barge in when I see her take a seat on his lap. Cat runs a hand down Spencer’s chest before she continues. “Shall we? What do you think about all the pain you’ve suffered in your life? What would I capitalize on, do you think? Is it… the death of your mentor, SSA Jason Gideon?”

           I can see the way Spencer’s jaw clenches and it makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

           “No, because we caught the man who killed him.”

           “What about Agent Morgan and your guilt over not visiting his little boy?” Cat whispers in his ear as her hands fiddle with the collar of his suit.

           “I was in prison.”

           “Yeah, but you had time before that. Why didn’t you go?” she presses as she grazes her nails down the length of his throat. I see red when her hand loosely circles around his neck. Spencer absolutely loathes being touched by anyone other than those closest to him, and I’ve no doubt that he’s horribly uncomfortable.

           “Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn’t have time. Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did. So, there’s absolutely no shame in admitting that. Morgan would understand.”

           “I agree. That’s why that’s not the secret,” Cat divulges, brushing her nose against the side of his face before pulling away and standing up. I let out the breath that I’d apparently been holding and allow myself a moment to run a shaky hand through my hair. If I was getting this frazzled from being a bystander to this conversation, I can only imagine how Spencer must be feeling.

           When I look back up at the mirror, Spencer’s looking over his shoulder at me through the glass. I know he can’t see me, but I can’t help but feel guilty for losing my cool.

           “Good job, Spence,” I murmur to myself as I pull out my phone. After a few rings, Rossie answers.

           “Go ahead, Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

           “Cat has an extremely deep background on Spencer. She knows about everything – Gideon’s death, Derek leaving the team, his mom’s condition,” I inform them, tapping my foot nervously against the concrete.

           “She’s throwing him off-balance.”

           “Yes, but Spencer also purposefully gave the wrong name of Derek’s son and she didn’t correct him,” I point out.

           “She must’ve gotten her hands on Reid’s confidential FBI file,” Emily chimes in. “It would mention pertinent team information but it wouldn’t name Morgan’s son for confidentiality reasons.”

           “We were thinking she’s been getting help from someone inside the prison. This goes deeper than that,” Rossi sighs.

           “Call us if she says anything else of any importance,” Emily signs off. I mumble a quick goodbye before pocketing my phone and turning my attention back to the window.

           “Working deductively, the secret wouldn’t be any of the topics you’ve already volunteered, because you wouldn’t want to make it easy on me,” Spencer reasons. He clasps his hands together and sits back in his seat before raising an eyebrow in challenge.

           “Genius, truly,” Cat taunts sarcastically as she twirls the watch around her finger.

           “So, what is left that I wouldn’t want to admit?” Spencer muses, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation. Cat shrugs her shoulders at him and another moment of tense silence passes.

           “Love,” Spencer utters, and Cat’s incessant twirling of the watch comes to an abrupt halt.

           Got her.

           “Is that what this is all about – love? For my mother?” Spencer whispers, and when Cat fails to respond, he shakes his head. “No, not for her. For you. You want me to admit that I’m actually in love with you.”

           Cat purses her lips together.

           “Don’t get me wrong – I love my fairy tales as much as the next girl – but I’m not delusional,” Cat says as she crosses her arms.

           “Are you sure about that?”

           “Very sure. So sure, in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a clue for you in that little scrapbook in your apartment.”

           I scrunch my face up at that. The clue in question had been a message inscribed on the back of an old photograph;xx-xy. We’d originally deduced that the message, the female and male chromosomes, was to confirm that Lindsey was working with Scratch. But now? Now I didn’t have a clue what Cat was talking about.

           “I couldn’t have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is…” Cat pauses for dramatic effect, a sly smile on her lips. “… until I tested positive.” Cat punctuates her words by placing both hands on her stomach, and the action makes me raise a hand up to my mouth in shock.

           No. There’s no fucking way.

           “What, you’re pregnant?” Spencer asks, confused.

           “No, we’re pregnant.”

           I feel my knees buckle upon hearing the admission and I blindly reach for the chair to my left.

           This cannot be happening.

           “No,” Spencer says, shaking his head adamantly.

           “Oh, yes,” Cat replies. “Mazel tov.”

--

           “Here you are, ma’am.”

           I reach for the file, my movements stilted and awkward.

           “Thank you,” I mumble to the guard, who gives me a peculiar look before leaving the room. I waste no time in flipping through the file, heart pounding wildly in my chest as my eyes skim over the page until –

           Positive.

           I slam the file down on the table.

           “Fuck!” I yell out in frustration. I’m thankful then for the thick, concrete walls, because neither Spencer nor Cat show any sign of having heard my little outburst. I place both palms down on the cool metal of the table, my breaths coming out in haggard puffs as I try to rationalize it all.

           “- not possible,” Spencer’s voice coming through the speaker snaps me out of my thoughts. I cut my eyes to the window to find Spencer pacing the room. “Even if you are pregnant, the baby’s not mine.” Spencer comes to a stop behind his chair and shoves his hands in his pockets.

           “Except for the part where it is.”

           “That’s completely preposterous. You’ve been in prison,” Spencer points out as he once again takes a seat across from her.

           “So have you.”

           “And we’ve never-”

           “I know. We’ve never…” Cat trails off with a suggestive waggle of her brows. “Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes, but he indulges her nonetheless.

           “How did you do it?”

           “I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time. And I gave her very specific instruction on how to get you in the mood,” Cat admits.

           “What?” Spencer snorts cynically. “Did she pretend to be you?”

           “Why, would that have worked?”

           Spencer leans forward and shoots Cat a cruel kind of smile.

           “No.”

           For a split second Cat’s face falls, but only for a moment and then she goes right back to smiling that wretched grin.

           “Yeah, I know, I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list,” Cat sighs. “So, ask me again.”

           “How did you do it?”

           “I told her to pretend to be Y/N.”

           For a second I think that I misheard her – the blood rushing in my ears almost overpowered her admission – but the way Spencer’s entire body tenses before he looks back at the window tells me that I didn’t.

           Why me?

           Spencer gulps hard before he turns back around. I find my way to the chair nearest me and collapse into it.

           “How do you know about her?”

            Cat gives him an unimpressed look.

           “It wasn’t hard, seeing as she’s your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Cat teases as her eyes wander from Spencer to the glass behind him. She waves at me, endlessly amused, before turning her attention back to Spencer. “But that isn’t all that she is to you – is it Spencie? At least, Lindsey didn’t think so. At first, she thought the two of you were tangled up in some kind of sexy little tryst. But then I had Lindsey do a little digging, and, well, that’s when we found out about the boyfriend.”

           “Stop.”

           “Oh, it seems I’ve struck a nerve!” Cat trills gleefully. “Shall we call her in here to join us? I know she’s just on the other side of that glass. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how pathetic little Spencer Reid pines after her like a school boy with a crush.” She pouts her bottom lip out in mock sadness. “There’s just something about unrequited love that really tugs at my heart strings.”

           Oh.

           For the second time since arriving here, my hand comes up to cover my mouth as I struggle to process Cat’s words. She can’t be right, can she? Spencer had never done anything that eluded to him seeing me as any more than a best friend. Perhaps she got it wrong. Lindsey saw me come and go and she just assumed it was something that it wasn’t. There was no way that Spencer -

           “I said stop.”

           The underlying plea in his voice is enough to make tears well in my eyes. If what Cat is saying is true, that means that Lindsey . . . 

           “All it took was Lindsey saying she was Y/N for you to crumble like a house of cards. You really made it too easy.”

           “You’re lying.”

           Cat chuckles. “Listen to you, you’re not even trying to deny it.”

           “It didn’t happen,” Spencer argues, voice so quiet that I have to strain to hear it.

           “Hey, I was thinking, if it’s a boy, we should definitely call him Spencie Jr.”

           Spencer pushes back from the table so abruptly that both Cat and I flinch, and he’s almost out the door when Cat delivers one final dig.

           “-But if it’s a girl, I think we should call her Y/N. I mean after all; she played such a huge role in in her own conception!”

           The sound of the door slamming behind him as he trudges into the room is enough to make me bolt up from my seat. Spencer comes to a stop at the center of the room, eyes wide and full of remorse as he looks over at me.

           “I-I… I’m…”

           I try my best to muster up a smile but I worry that it comes out more as a grimace.

           “Later,” I murmur, and Spencer winces before nodding his head in defeat. I walk over to the table and open up the file. “She’s not lying about being pregnant.”

           Spencer joins me at the table, eyes skimming over the document.

           “She’s three months, and the timeline matches, but that doesn’t mean-”

           Spencer yanks the file off the table and hurls it at the window, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

           I take a step back and Spencer curses under his breath.

           “I’m sorry. It’s not you,” he sighs. “I just… need a minute.”

           I press my lips together and nod.

           “Take all the time you need. M’gonna go call Emily,” I murmur.

           Spencer closes his eyes and lets his head hang low.

           “Yeah, okay,” he whispers dejectedly, and the despair in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

           “Spence?” I call out. He looks up at me from underneath his lashes, more than a little bit timid and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

            I open the door and step out of the room, but it doesn’t close before I hear the quiet ‘thank you’ drift from within.  

--

           Spencer waits until the door clicks shut behind her to push away from the table and head back into the interrogation room. He couldn’t bear the thought of her overhearing any more than she already had. As far as Spencer was concerned, Cat had just singlehandedly ruined the one good thing he had going for him, and at this point, he had nothing left to lose.

           “Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth,” Spencer starts. “That means I guessed it, right? The secret, the one I don’t want to admit to? It’s my child?”

           Cat looks up at him with bored eyes and Spencer feels his unease begin to give way to rage.

           “Is that your guess?” Cat asks. “You only get one, remember?”

           Spencer takes pause, before shaking his head.

           “No. It’s too easy,” he decides.

           “Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy,” Cat mutters, and Spencer’s lips press into a tight line. The implication of it is enough to make his skin crawl. He feels violated and absolutely disgusted, but still he tries to school his impression into one of indifference. Spencer thinks about his mom, scared and confused, and that’s enough incentive to make him focus on the task at hand.

           “You misunderstand. It’s too easy emotionally,” Spencer explains in a clipped tone as he sits down. “Because I can take your child from you. The child I had absolutely no role in creating, but a child that I would care for better than you.”

           “That’s rude,” Cat seethes as she slowly lifts her head from off of the table.

           “It’s true. You can’t be a mother, Cat. I’m not trying to insult you – it’s your psychological makeup. You literally do not have the emotional skills to care for another human being. You’d lose interest in your own baby the way a six-year-old loses interest in a pet hamster. This baby is simply a means to an end, which is to keep me here and playing your game, guessing like a fool and assuming something that I never should have assumed in the first place.”

           “And what would that be?”

           “My mother’s already dead,” Spencer says, and the words taste positively foul in his mouth. “She was dead before I walked in here”

           Cat’s lips pull into a frown.

           “She’s not dead-”

           “Yes, she is,” Spencer reiterates as he rises from his chair.

           “No, because that would be cheating and I don’t cheat. You cheat!” Cat panics, voice growing louder the closer Spencer gets to the door.

           “I’m done playing,” Spencer says as he turns away, reaching for the door knob.

           “Get back here!”

           Spencer pulls the door open. “Goodbye, Cat.”

           He has one foot out the door when;

           “I’ll let you talk to her!” Cat yells out as she slams her fist down on the table.

           Spencer lifts his eyes up from their spot on the floor, and it’s with a jolt of surprise that his eyes meet Y/N’s. It feels to him like it always does when he sees her – like some great relief that floods through his entire body in an instant. He feels guilty for it, now that she knows, but that doesn’t stop him from basking in it. The feeling grows when a triumphant smile graces her lips, one that says you’ve got her, Spence. You’ve got her right where you want her.

           Spencer is positively rejuvenated by that smile.

           He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from her and focuses back on Cat. He’s come too far now to fuck it all up.

           Spencer pulls his phone from the depths of his suit pocket and hands it to Cat. He watches on as she dials the number, and his heart beats so fast that he wonders if she can hear it. The sound of the dial tone ringing fills the room, and Spencer can only hope that the call will be long enough for Penelope to trace.

           “You’re early,” a voice that’s unmistakably Lindsey’s calls out. Spencer lets out a shaky breath of relief.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “Did he guess?”

           “No, not yet,” Cat sighs. “We need proof of life.”

           “All right, hold on,” Lindsey says, exasperated, and her words are followed by several seconds of muffled rustling and what Spencer deems as some sort of liquid being poured.

           “Spencer!”

           His heart practically bursts out of his chest as he lunges forward, yanking the phone out of Cat’s hand and bringing it up to his ear.

           “Mom - mom, are you okay?”

           “I don’t… know-”

           Spencer opens his mouth to reply when the gut-wrenching sound of an explosion rips through the tiny phone speakers, distorted and so loud that it makes Spencer’s ears ring.

           “Mom!” Spencer desperately yells into the phone, but all he gets in reply is a ‘gotta go’ from Lindsey before the line goes dead. Spencer growls out a string of swears, throwing his phone down on the table before leaning over the table.

           “What the hell was that?” he yells, and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening, but he can’t focus on anything other than his own rising panic.

           “I don’t know,” Cat replies, opening her mouth to continue but Spencer cuts her off.

           “Lindsey said you were early. Was that a signal?” he bellows.

           “Spence, come on,” Y/N tries to interject. Spencer feels her hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it off before bringing his fist down on the table.

           “Was that a prearranged signal to kill my mother?!” Spencer snarls, eyes wide and teeth barred. He feels positively feral, images of his mother in all sorts of terrible states of distress flashing through his mind like some grotesque picture show. “Tell me the truth!”

           “No! I am!” Cat shouts back.

           “Tell me the truth!”

           “I am!” Cat spits out, eyes flashing angrily. “You wanna know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer’s-ridden moron who’s getting dumber by the day and if she’s dead, it’s your fault!”

           Something comes over Spencer then, and in an instant, he’s shoving the table out of the way and pushing Cat against the wall. His hands find purchase on her throat, not dissimilar to how hers had on his hours before, but instead of dragging his fingers against her neck, Spencer’s clamping down on it as hard as he can, taking great pleasure in the way she gasps for air as his hands tighten. Everything around him fades away until all that he can focus on is that way that her pulse feels under his hands – the way it starts off strong, before tapering, slower and slower until he can barely even palpate it anymore.

           “I’m going to kill you,” Spencer hears himself whisper as he presses down hard on her windpipe. “M’gonna fucking kill you.”

           Cat’s eyes are fluttering closed now, and Spencer shouldn’t enjoy the way the light in her eyes starts to dim. He shouldn’t but he does – in fact, it prompts him to press harder and harder and –

           A harsh yank pulls Spencer away from Cat, and as soon as his hands begin to loosen Cat splutters in an attempt to catch her breath.

           “Spencer, she is pregnant,” Y/N yells in his ear, and just like that his tunnel vison fades away and Spencer feels the adrenaline leave his body. He only realizes that his hands are still on Cat’s throat when Y/N yanks at his arms again. “Fucking let her go, Spencer!”

           His entire body goes limp and he allows himself to be drug away from Cat and out of the room. Spencer’s heart still pounds and his blood is still roaring in his ears, but the satisfaction has given away to shame. He steals a glance at cat as he’s being pulled from the room, and despite her ruffled appearance, she’s grinning at him – smiling as if to say see? I told you that you were just like me.

           Spencer stumbles into the other room, steadying himself on the wall to keep from faceplanting onto the cold hard floor. Now that the adrenaline has expelled itself from his body, he’s left shaky and panting and ashamed.

           The feeling of Y/N’s eyes on him as he braces himself on the wall only exacerbates his mortification. What will she think of me now? Will she think me to be some kind of monster? Spencer wouldn’t blame her - he’s held that same opinion of himself for months now.

           Spencer stands there, face turned downwards as he catches his breath, and when he can take the weight of her gaze no longer, he darts out of the room and down the corridor.

           Being alone is preferable to being a disappointment, Spencer thinks as he flees the room.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to find him sitting in the floor, knees to his chest with his face downturned. Spencer hears her before he sees her, and he prepares himself for the yelling that’s surely to come.

           She surprises him when she slides her back down the wall until she’s sitting beside him, legs sprawled out in front of her. He doesn’t look up – fearful of what he might see when he looks into those beautiful eyes of hers. There had been love there, before all of this happened. Not the kind of love that was reflected in his own, but it was love just the same and Spencer thinks that it might kill him to see that love replaced with disgust. So he doesn’t look. Instead, Spencer just sits there, slumped over and pathetic, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that his hands are shaking.

           “Richmond County police just reported a gas station explosion. One victim – male. Whatever Lindsey did, we have to assume that your mom’s still alive,” Y/N murmurs. Spencer lets out a shaky breath and his grip on his knees tightens. It’s good news, and he’s grateful, but it does nothing for the overwhelming guilt that’s eating away at him.

           “Hey,” she whispers when he doesn’t reply. “Can you look at me, Spence? Wanna see those pretty brown eyes. Please?”

           Spencer chokes down the sob that threatens to come out. He shakes his head. 

           “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened in there. That… That’s not me. At least, I don’t want it to be,” Spencer whispers. “Emily should’ve sent someone else with me. I never wanted you to see me like that.”

           Her small, incredibly soft hand comes to rest on his own and Spencer closes his eyes at the feeling. Y/N flips his hand over and intertwines their fingers and Spencer can’t help but think that’s she’s showing him way more kindness than he could ever deserve. But he’s selfish, unable to deny himself of the feeling of her hand in his, so he clings onto her hand for dear life.

           “I’m so scared that this is who I am now,” Spencer mumbles, prompting her grip on his hand to tighten.

           “No, Spence. Don’t say that,” she chastises him. “You’re the best guy I know. Everyone has a breaking point – Cat just knows how to bring you to yours, is all.”

           “You… You don’t know…” Spencer trails off, still unwilling to look her in the eye.

           “I do know, Spence. I may not have been able to visit, but I asked about you every day,” she says as she shuffles closer to him. Spencer can smell her perfume now, subtle and sweet and comforting. “I know that two inmates, Frazier and Duerson, killed your friend in front of you. I know that they wanted you to move heroin for them, and I also know that if you didn’t, you would’ve been next. Anyone in your spot would’ve done the same.”

           “You wouldn’t have.”

           “Hell yes, I would have,” Y/N persists, and Spencer can’t help but to look up at her from behind where his unruly curls fall into his face. “I would have, Spence. If someone was threatening my life, you bet your ass I would have done the same thing. It doesn’t make you a bad person – doing whatever it takes to survive does not make you a bad person.”

           She must pick up on the hesitancy that lingers in Spencer’s eyes, because she decides to continue.

           “You know who does think like that? That – that in you doing what you had to do in order to survive somehow makes you a psychopath?” Y/N pauses long enough to point her thumb towards the direction of the interview room. “She does.”

           Spencer watches the realization wash over her face, and for a split second he’s terribly confused. It isn’t until a ghost of a smile pulls at her lips that he catches on, and when he does, he has to stop himself from doing something terribly stupid like kissing her.

           “She does,” Y/N reiterates when she sees that Spencer finally caught on. “Because she knows.”

           “That’s the secret,” Spencer thinks aloud. He pushes himself to his feet and begins to pace down the corridor. “The one that I don’t want to admit about myself.”

           “Hold up, Spence. Let’s talk through this, because she will not lose to you twice. She already said that this wasn’t about the two of you being the same.”

           Spencer scratches the back of his next, nodding to himself.

           “Then she’s all about the game. She thinks that I cheated the last time because I lied about her dad, so it’s integral that she beats me by following the rules.”

           “But, Spence, she’s the one that makes the rules. She can change them to ensure that she wins.”

           “-Which means that I’m locked in-”

           “Like she is.”

           “She needs me locked in, playing by her rules, a game I can’t win, so she-” Spencer pauses then, and an actual, honest to God smile creeps its way across his face – the kind of smile that was only reserved for Y/N. “I got it.”

           Spencer doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to. He can tell with one look that she understands, because somehow, she always does. Spencer offers her a hand and hoists her to her feet. 

          Spencer almost laughs as the two of them step back into the room. Of course, she would be the one to figure it out. It seems like she’s always saving him, these days.

--

           “Guess that’s one way to get you to put your hands on me.”

           Spencer feels a twinge of guilt, but he pushes it to the back of his mind as he holds a hand out to Cat.

           “Dance with me.”

           Cat lifts an eyebrow at him.

           “Why?”

           “Because I don’t want the people watching to hear what I’m about to say.”

           Cat is still suspicious, but she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet anyways. Spencer puts his arms around her and the two of them begin to sway back and forth. Spencer suppresses the urge to pull away when her hand lowers and intertwines with his own. It’s rough and calloused and cold – a direct contradiction of Y/N’s – and Spencer positively loathes it.

           “You had eyes on me while I was in prison, didn’t you?”

           “Spencie, don’t ruin the moment,” Cat groans.

           “I don’t want to, but I’m on the clock. Answer my question, am I right?”            Cat places her head on Spencer’s chest, her hair smelling of some generic bar of soap, and Spencer wishes more than anything that he was smelling the familiar notes of honeysuckle and vanilla instead.

           “Yes, you’re right. I wanted to make sure things were just as uncomfortable for you as they were for me.”

           “That’s how you timed everything so perfectly. Like sending my mom and Lindsey to visit me when I thought I was at my lowest.”

           This piques Cat’s interest and she lifts her head up until her eyes meet Spencer’s.

           “Thought? You’re sure you weren’t?”

           “No, I wasn’t. Because I didn’t feel bad – I felt scared at how much I enjoyed poisoning the other prisoners. I had a hundred ways of getting myself out of that situation, and I picked the one that would cause them the most pain.”

           “Well, look at that,” Cat hums. “You might end up saving your mother’s life after all.”

           A moment of silence passes as Spencer contemplates his next move. Before he can get the words out, Cat breaks the silence.

           “They won’t get there in time. They must be on their way, right? Your team is too good to wait around, but you know me. I always have a contingency plan,” Cat murmurs, hands dipping under Reid’s suit jacket. She rubs her palms across his chest in slow circles and Spencer tries hard not to squirm. “They’re walking into a trap, and the only way out is if you give me your phone and you guess – right now.”

           Cat removes her hands from Spencer’s chest, crossing her arms and fixing him with a pointed look. Spencer reaches down and pulls the phone from his pocket, passing it to Cat who wastes no time in taking a seat at the table once more.

           Spencer’s skin tingles, half from anticipation, half from fear. They’ve come too far for him to misstep. He thinks of his mother – of how the next two minutes will determine her fate, and Spencer clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

           Here comes the moment of truth.

           “When we first sat down, you said you were going to show me what kind of man I am. And you have.”

           “Every time I dial a number, you’re getting warmer.”

           “At first, I was furious, because the secret had to be the baby inside you. How could it be anything else? But then I realized that somehow, you knew I liked hurting those men.” Cat dials another number, prompting Spencer to continue. “Now, I know it’s both things.”

           “So, which is it, Spencie? Come on, don’t fumble it now. You’re at the one-yard line.”

           “You’re not pregnant with my child. You got pregnant with Wilkins to put me in as compromised a position as possible. But it should be mine – I wish it were mine. Because you and I… we deserve each other. That is the real secret.”

           By the time Spencer finishes speaking, tears are steady falling down Cat’s cheeks. With a shaky hand she presses the call button, and Spencer watches on with bated breath as the phone rings.

           “Kill her.”

          When Cat receives no reply, she pushes out of her seat and begins to pace around the room. “Lindsey, I said kill her.”

           “You bitch,” Lindsey curses, sounding positively heartbroken in the way only a jilted loved could. “You’re pregnant?”

            “Lindsey, sweetheart, it’s complicated, okay?”

           “No, it’s not,” Lindsey whispers, and then the sound of the dial tone is all that’s left.

           Not a second later, Y/N bursts through the door; the figurative light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

           “We’re clear.”

           Spencer snatches his phone from Cat’s hand before turning to face Y/N.

           “Is my mom okay?”

           “Yeah. She’s fine.”

           “We do deserve each other, by the way,” Cat calls out, prompting Spencer to pivot and face her. She slides back into the seat and shrugs her shoulders. “You guessed right.”

           Spencer falters for a moment, but then a voice in his head is reminding him that he deserves the world. And that voice sounds a lot like Y/N.

           “You lied, by the way. You were going to kill my mother regardless.”

          “Yeah, I think you really liked hurting those men. Once you cross that line, you can’t ever go back. And you’ll never get her to love you, either. You and I are too fucked up to be loved.”

           Spencer takes two steps forward before he bends down, reaching out and clutching Cat’s forearm in a tight grip. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his watch off her wrist and back on to his own.

           “Watch me,” Spencer whispers, and without so much as a parting glance at the broken women sitting at the table, Spencer walks towards the light.

--

           The elevator ride up to the bullpen is a quiet one, not unlike the jet ride before it. I had about a million questions that I was dying to ask, but I thought it best to let Spencer stew in silence. The poor guy had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours – he didn’t need me hounding him on top of all of that. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure where to start in the first place.

           So, Spence – how was prison?

           I heard you got the shit kicked out of you. How interesting, so did I! Wanna trade war stories?

           I hate to put you on the spot like this, but was that little tidbit about you being hopelessly in love with me true? Just curious.

           As wonderful as all of those conversation starters were, I didn’t really think that now was the time to breech any of the aforementioned subjects. So, instead, Spencer and I communicated in stolen glances and shy smiles, and that more than sufficed for the time being. We had all the time in the world to talk later - there was no need to rush.

           I can practically feel Spencer shaking with anticipation when the elevator ride comes to a close, and the two of us share one last, longing glance before the doors open and Spencer steps out and into the arms of his mother.

           There’s not a dry eye in the house when Spencer and his mother reunite, and it takes Emily ushering us all away to keep us all from devolving into sniveling messes right in front of the elevator. We all scatter about the bullpen, and after a quick trip to the bathroom I meander to Emily’s office.

           “Derek Morgan – you are a sight for sore eyes,” I whistle as I walk into the room, not stopping until I’m pressed up against two-hundred pounds of rock-hard abs.

           “Ah, little bit. I sure have missed you,” Derek laughs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

           “To what do we owe the pleasure? I’d be hard pressed to believe that you just decided to drop in at three o’clock in the morning.”

           Derek lets out a sigh and the smile drops from his face.

           “I wish I was just here to say hello, but we may have bigger problems. I got a text from Penelope saying that Reid was out of prison and that he wanted to see me. And that he was staying in an FBI safehouse where he was putting his mother up for the night.”

           I cast a glance at Emily, who shakes her head.

           “I didn’t approve of that,” she explains, and just like that, a weary feeling settles over everyone in the room.

           “I think we all know what this sounds like,” Derek says.

           “A trap.”

--

           “I know we’re all tired, but we may have a new lead on Scratch.”

           “Somebody did a bang-up job of cloning my cellphone to send Morgan a text luring him to a nonexistent safehouse. And whoever that somebody is has mad skills,” Penelope explains.

           “The kind of skills Scratch has,” Stephen mutters, earning a round of murmured agreeances.

           “Were you able to trace where the hack came from?” Luke inquires, earning an affronted glare from Penelope. She shakes her head at him before turning to Derek, who’s watching on with a shit-eating grin on his face.

           “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

           Derek chuckles and gives Luke a pointed look.

           “Alvez, you’ll always get a location with this one.” Derek reaches forward and rubs Penelope’s shoulder, and it’s impossible to miss the way Luke’s eyes zero in on it.

           “Down boy,” I whisper at him. “Green isn’t your color.”

           “Shut up.”

           I roll my eyes good-naturedly before turning my attention back to Emily.

           “Obviously, Morgan can’t come with us. He’s a civilian now.”

           “We’ll miss you out there,” JJ chimes in.

           “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it out there in the field with you guys. I think about it every day. But between my old friends and my new friends, you guys are gonna go out there, you’re gonna handle your business, you’re gonna make people feel safe, and then you’re gonna go home. And that’s all that matters.”

           “Civilian life has turned you into a sap,” I tease.

           “Is it just me, or has this one gotten mouthier since I left?”

           Penelope pats him on the arm.

           “Someone had to fill the silence.”

           After everyone has the opportunity to tell Derek their goodbyes, it’s a mad dash to get everything we need to roll out. I pull my hair into a ponytail and shuck off my blazer, only to replace it with my Kevlar. I’m in the middle of securing the last strap as I hurry down the hall when I come in harsh contact with the front of someone’s chest.

           But it’s not just someone – it’s Spencer.

           “I thought you left already?”

           Spencer lets out a strained chuckle.

           “Uh, yeah. I was on the way out when Penelope texted and said Derek was here. Mom’s sitting with Anderson while I go talk to him.”

           I nod in understanding.

           “Good ole Anderson,” I manage to say, trying hard not to cringe at my awkward choice of words.

           “Yeah,” Spencer mutters, shuffling his feet as he looks anywhere other than my face. “There’s a case, I’m assuming?” he says, gesturing to my vest.

           “We think we have a lead on Scratch, actually.”

           Now, that gets Spencer’s attention. His eyes finally settle on me, and his brows furrow.

           “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I need to go with you-” Spencer makes a move to brush past me, put I stop him with a hand on his chest.

           “Back it up, Spence. There’s absolutely no way Prentiss will sign off on that, and even if she did, I’m still saying no.”

           “And I’m supposed to listen to you?” Spencer tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch as he fights back a smile.

           “Mm. What I say goes, and I say that you need to go home and not even think about work for at least a month. You certainly could use the break.”

           “A whole month, huh?”

           I nod, looking up at him with a faux serious expression.

           “I better not see you around here for at least that long, or there will be repercussions.”

           Spencer finally does smile at that, and I can practically see the way he’s mulling over his next move in his head.

           “Does… Does that prohibition extend only to the work place?”

           I tilt my head to the side.

           “I’m lost.”

           Spencer scrunches his nose up and his eyes dart across the hall before eventually settling back on me.

           “It’s just that, well, I don’t really know where this leaves us. Will I still see you outside of work, or is that all messed up now?”

           “Why would that be messed up?”

           Spencer closes his eyes and he lets out a haggard breath.

           “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

           Even though he can’t see me, I smile up at him anyways.

           “On any other day I absolutely would, but things are a little… hectic right now. How about we put a pin in this conversation until things slow down a bit?”

           Spencer slowly opens his eyes and they roam over my face, searching.

           “You’re not uncomfortable? Considering everything that, uh, she said about me? Especially the part that pertained to you?” Spencer asks, meek and unsure.

           I shake my head.

           “I think you’ll find that I am very much the opposite of uncomfortable,” I reply. We stand there for a moment longer, just basking in the fact that after three long, miserable months, we’re finally together again.

           Spencer opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Emily calling my name from further down the hall.

           “Duty calls,” I chuckle, pulling away from Spencer. “Tell you mom I said hi, and I’ll be by to visit once you have time to get settled in,” I call over my shoulder.

           I make it a good ten feet down the hall before Spencer’s tugging at my hand and pulling me flush against his chest. He hesitates for a moment, and a flash of uncertainty clouds his eyes, but then he’s pushing it down and pressing his lips to mine.

           Spencer’s lips are slightly chapped, but so, so warm as they move against mine. My response is instantaneous – I don’t hesitate for a second before I’m kissing back. The kiss is slow and tentative, as gentle and tender as it is intoxicating. It’s everything that a kiss should be and it ignites a fire in me that has me grasping at Spencer’s shirt, desperate for more. The hand that isn’t cupping the side of my face presses firmly against the small of my back, urging me forward until absolutely no space is left between us.

           Every drag of his lips against mine acts as gasoline to a flame, and I can’t help but think that Ray Bradbury said it best. It is a pleasure to burn.

           I’m the first to pull away, but it isn’t because I want to. What I want is to stay just like this – entangled in Spencer Reid – until not an inch of our bodies lay unexplored by the other. But when Emily calls out my name yet again, I force myself to stop.

           “I really need to go,” I murmur regretfully, and Spencer nods.

           “Yeah, I know.”

           But that doesn’t stop him from going in for one last, delicious kiss. This time when we break away, it’s his doing. I don’t have the self restraint to pull away twice.

           “Pinky promise you’ll come back to me in one piece?” Spencer says as he lifts his pinky finger up in offering. I link mine with his, and I smile a dopey grin at him.

           “Of course, I will,” I reply. “After all, you and I are due for one hell of a conversation.”

           I shoot him a wink before I’m running down the hall and slipping into the elevator just before the doors close. My teammates all shoot me curious looks, but I pretend like I don’t see and I lean against the wall, trying and failing to slow the rapid beating of my heart.

           It’s Stephen who approaches me when we all file out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

           “Spencer Reid wouldn’t have anything to do with that love-sick look on your face, would he?”

           I attempt to school my expression, but one pointed look from Stephen has me devolving into a fit of giggles like I’m a goddamn school girl.

           “Possibly.”

           “Possibly my ass. When we get done with this case, I expect a full explanation,” Stephen chuckles as he climbs in the back of the SUV.

           “You gossip like a teenager, Walker,” I tease as I climb in after him.

           “What can I say? You kids keep me young.”

           I let out a loud laugh at that.

           “Best shrink a girl could ask for.”

-

-

-

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

           - Unknown

taglist: @90spumkin, @wave0fg00dvibes, @bartlebyreid, @goldenxreid , @crubbycrab, @djreid , @waywardswain, @anotherr-fine-mess , @shadyladyperfection , @memoriesfornobody , @fakeauthor , @easygoingtheatre , @haylaansmi , @criminal-minds-reider , @leavesofgrass-stark​ , @anitazut​, @reidspurplescarf​ , @xoprincessmel, @pinkdiamond1016​, @eldahae​, @itsametaphorbriansblog​, @ziggystardustxo​

[felswritingfire]

I NEED TAKEMARU DAD HC, TADATOMO AND XOLOTLS WERE SO GOOD

SO, FIRST OF ALL: THANK YOU, DEAR ;0; I'M SO HAPPY YOU ENJOYED THEM-

AND SECONDLY: Y'all- this has been fucking sitting as a WIP in my google docs for so fucking long- I have so many others too. Like, Claude, Zab, Jacob- ALL THE TEACHERS ARE IN THERE- Hakuman, Durga, Babylon- uuuuuuhhh, fuuuuckiiiiin' TANGAROA. HOMBRE'S IN THERE AND TETSU AND NOMAD-

FUck- I just, there's a lot fjsdlkjlskdjs

ANYWAY! Under the cut for length because this- ah,,,, this is a big boy-

THIS DUDE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR ALL HIS LIFE- HE’S SO READY TO START A FAMILY WITH YOU

You two planned this out- like, in depth have planned this out because first of all, the dude made it very clear, in the beginning of your relationship, that he was in it for the long haul and he wanted a family with you, like, a horde of children. But after he made your guys’ house and you two established yourselves first

Which, spoiler, you both did all that, so now it’s either baby making time or adoption time

You guys probably end up with a huge ass family, and I’m not joking when I say that, because five children is big. But you know what, that’s better than the 15 (especially if you have to birth that many- like, oof) he was trying to sell you on tbh

Like, shit- this man wore a suit and made a powerpoint to try and convince you why 15 was the golden number, to which you responded that you’d like to have a retirement one day. He couldn’t really fight you there

But your kiddos end up being an oldest girl and the rest boys- which he loves his girl so much, she tries her hardest to keep the boys in line

WHICH WORKS TO VARYING DEGREES TBH

She’s so soft spoken and shy and they’re all… rough and tumble little gremlins

Speaking of the babies, she’s probably older than the youngest by five years; the oldest boy is a year younger than her; the second oldest boy is two years younger than him; and from there, you had the third boy a year from the second and finally the fourth boy a year from the third- (I had to literally do math to make sure I was right on that jsl;kfdjdfslk)

ANYWAY

You’re guys’ baby girl??? Absolute angel, but she had a lot of anxiety as a baby so she had to be held by one of you guys or she would whimper and cry- not even a loud cry, but a heart broken one??? It just- UGH-

The first time Takemaru heard her whimper, he just about sobbed with her- it really didn’t help that she was trying to get out of the blanket she was swaddled in, so she was rocking back and forth on her back, so he could see her little fingers push and pull at the fabric- he forgot all about the bottle he was trying to make for her and picked her up and held her so close in his hands-

He was wide-eyed and terrified he was going to break her as he just held her, but he didn’t and her sniffles died down and she sighed against his neck (he really cried there- but you never heard that shhh)

Kurogane became the favorite uncle when he gave you guys a personalized baby carrier for a little get together to celebrate her birth (they have one for all of the babies too!)

You and Kuro just about jumped when Take wrapped his arms around the man in near tears

But then the title was revoked and presented to Heph instead because the man hand sewed this little stuffed pegasus, his fingers all bandaged and he had this nervous smile on his face as he handed it to your little girl, who LAUGHED AND MADE GRABBY HANDS FOR IT???? When I say that you’ve never seen Takemaru shove a man away and bring another one into a hug so fast (Heph looked fucking constipated as soon as the impact happened- you almost cackled at the pure offence on his face)- you mean it

Kurogane was sprawled on the floor staring blankly at the ceiling until you went up and asked him if he was alright; his reply was raising his fist and declaring “This is war!”

And thus, the story of how your baby girl ended up with a horde of plushies, that she refuses to get rid of to this day began

You have yet to tell them that her favorite uncle is actually Amatsumara- you guys can rest assured that he is the go to babysitter for her because she clings just as hard to him as she does to you guys (no, you two aren’t a little jealous, what makes you think that-)

When you’re first boy is born- you two are not prepared for the mass chaos that is held in his little body- he is an absolute gremlin

You don’t even know how- Takemaru blames you; you are offended

He’s such a needy baby and he cries constantly- and then he laughs when he knocks something out of one of your guys’ hands

You two love him to death- you swear

His sissy tries to help since you two keep her right next to you when your tending to your little boy- always giving her head pats or nodding along when she softly coo about something- but, there’s only so much a one year old can do to help

But she really tries her hardest

It’s easier for all three of you when the next boy comes along because he’s exactly like your oldest boy was and your girl has aged a little bit so she can do a tad bit more than when she was younger- not much, but still

Though your oldest boy brings his own bouts of problems to the table too because boy does he want to see how bouncy his brother is

You and Takemaru both dived to keep your oldest boy from using his little brother as a literal baby trampoline. Suffice to say, he got in trouble

By the time the last two are born/come in, you guys are basically baby experts- like, hot damn, you guys got everything lined up with zero hesitation and can read the boys like a damn book

You guys immediately know what they need/want without them even uttering a cry; your daughter has also picked up this skill and she takes care of the other two toddlers too, which helps you guys a whole bunch

Oh! Oh! You’re little girl really likes holding her baby brother- like, really likes to hold him and can hold him for hours on end

She’s very attached to him and Takemaru lives for it tbh

Though she loves all her brothers and her brothers all really love her too

When the boys are all toddler aged, they will literally work together to keep Takemaru from going to work by ganging up on him and clinging to his legs; little do they know is that their papa doesn’t have tree trunk legs for nothing- so he just walks, albeit with the funniest gait because of the four children clinging to both of his legs, and just goes about his morning until he gets to the door where he begins to pull them off with one hand and lift them up so he could plant a big ol’ kiss on their forehead and tell them that he loves them and he’ll see them when he gets home; the boys are all squealing in delight when this happens. You’re daughter will trail behind the fiasco while holding your hand and he’ll always hold open his arms for you and her to rush into his arms and hug him- and so he can also give you two forehead smooches uwu

When you guys need babysitters literally the Crafters are all for it, though Heph is a little nervous about it, but Talos is literally raring to go! He fucking loves kids!

Your girl loves Amatsu, as mentioned before; your oldest boy LOVES Musashi, they get into so much trouble together, though they both calmed down a bit after your little girl almost got hit in the head with a rock and Amatsu about hung them from their toes; your second and third oldest love watching Kurogane work, like, they will actively be asking him questions at rapid fire speed. It’s honestly amazing how he keeps up with their questions while he’s tinkering with whatever he project he’s working on this week; your youngest one is fascinated with Heph himself, he’ll always seek him out, usually hobbling to Talos and asking him if he could hang out with them and Talos is always quick to say yes. At first, Heph was really nervous about having him there but over time he started to get used to his presence (and this is technically his little brother right? He has to be nice to him!) and now he sits him on his lap so he can see what Heph is doing and he’ll even let him help with the smaller stuff in the project. It’s most likely gonna be with something harmless, like a little toy robot lion tbh

Sometimes they don’t want to give them back tbh

Takemaru almost threw hands with Musashi because he hid your oldest and refused to tell you guys where he was because “you aren’t taking away our little buddy, old chap!” Turns out you kiddo was just taking a nap inside of one of Musashi’s napping nooks-

By the time their tween years role around, the boys are bouncing off the walls and your little girl is trying so fucking hard to keep them under control

You swear you guys have white hairs from the boys specifically because your third oldest came

running in with his whole hand stuck in the pickle jar- you don’t even know how?????? Takemaru literally had to break it open because he couldn’t pull your kid’s damn hand out of the jar

Oml, puberty is a trip, especially when it happened to your oldest boy: you come into the living just to see your him sitting and staring at the fire in the fireplace, looking like he saw something horrific and so, like the good mama/papa/nano you are, you come and put a comforting hand on his shoulder and ask: “honey, what’s wrong?”

To which this little shit replies in the most distraught voice: “My balls look like moss balls.”

You sit, blinked, and had to let it sink in with what he meant, when you heard a horrified gasp from behind you and you turned to see your husband covering your daughter's ears. “WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THOSE THINGS IN FRONT OF THE LADY/LADIES, YOUNG MAN.”

“BUT THEY DO, DAD! IT’S TERRIBLE- THEY’RE SO ITCHY-”

You had drowned out the conversation by that point and from the look on your daughters face- she has too

Your other three are much more… calm? About the whole ordeal; at the very least they’re not loud like their older brother is about it

Your daughter is the chillest with it, she reads a lot of books so she kinda pieced together what was happening of her own accord

The boys all cackle together when their voices crack and have made a whole game about who’s voice could crack the most

They all like to tinker with things thanks to Takemaru and the other Crafters influences! Your daughter is into intricate things, like limbs and the likes; your oldest son is into metal work, especially with swords; your second and third are both really interested in making little rockets; and your youngest is fascinated with robots because Talos and Orihime are so cool?????? Oml???

So you two got a horde of brainiacs and you’re so proud of them

By the time they’re in high school, your daughter is already wracking up scholarships for her little inventions and essays on her observations. Your boys are taking it a bit more slowly than their sister is, but that doesn’t meant that your oldest boy isn’t selling his metal works for a good price, and your two middle sons are already piecing together a little shop of their own (with dad’s help- Take’s pretty good with money and budgeting), and you’re youngest has really been brushing up on robotics! He studies under Uncle Heph and Uncle Talos and it’s super fucking cute??????

Heph is suprisingly good at teaching (despite him swearing that he’s not) and your little boy just soaks up the information like a fucking sponge.

One thing that they all do together is ask Takemaru how to build things and work with wood and carpentry- you can bet your ass he shows them all the ropes of how to make a home. He even goes over electrical and plumbing work with them. You have so many videos and pictures of them working together and just learning by Takemaru’s example- it makes your heart swell with happiness and love.

God forbid your daughter ever gets a significant other because they have Takemaru, her three brothers, and the entirety of the Crafters (and you if you're an overprotective parent) to watch out for.

They get five different shovel talks in a span of three minutes. But, ultimately, she’s not dumb with her choices in partners, so they’re most likely good people. And you can rest easy with that knowledge.

When they graduate, there’s tears for each of their graduations. Takemaru pulls them into bone crushing hugs and blubbers about how broad he is of them and how they’ll still always be his little Onis (regardless of if they’re actually Onis or not). Your girl straight up sobs and hugs her dad back, her brothers piling in the group hug, crying just as hard. Your oldest boy is in hysterics when he graduates, and your last two boys tackle their papa in a hug and they go tumbling to the ground laughing and crying.

They don’t leave right away after high school and instead, all of them find a college/trade school close enough for them to go to and fro without having to leave the nest yet- which Takemaru has no issue with, he’s very much a tight-knit family type of man.

Having a family with Takemaru is the most domestic and tooth rotting sweetness you can ever ask for. And, at the end of the day, he’s just so grateful that you were willing to go on this journey with him.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I read your headcanons about James Potter and I’m really interested to hear your thoughts Sirius and regulus Black pls pls pls

Oh no.

Alright, strap in people, because I’m about to say some things that nobody will like.

Let’s start in alphabetical order with Regulus. 

Fandom often sees Regulus as a reformed Death Eater, the redeemed villain, or else a cooler suaver version of Sirius steeped in pure blood culture, making him more palatable than many pureblood characters as a love interest. There’s a lot of fics of him having almost defeated Voldemort, coming back from the dead and actually defeating Voldemort, reconnecting with Sirius, showing Harry the cool pureblood ways without being racist, etc.

Well, I don’t really buy into any of that.

I think, even with his defection, Regulus was likely still a very racist character and never really disavowed the cause. True, he was young when he was sucked in, he had his whole family meltdown when Sirius was disowned and suddenly he was heir, but I do think he really did believe in blood purism and nothing from the books suggests that he died not believing in it. He just stopped believing in Voldemort.

Instead, I believe he discovered that Voldemort a) did not mean anything good for his culture and b) Voldemort was a fraud.

What do I mean by that?

Well, in the first case, I’ve always viewed Tom Riddle in that period in time as a hate filled nihilist who doesn’t really believe in what he preaches. It’s just convenient to him as the purebloods are the ones with the money and the power. There’s no point in him appealing to Dumbledore’s ilk as they’re far less likely to be able to make him king (also it would mean putting up with Dumbledore and his stupid speeches about love and friendship). Most of Voldemort’s actions throughout the books don’t make the muggle borns’ lives miserable (at least not until he gets into power) but makes hell of the purebloods’ lives and absolutely ruins them. 

The Black family, in particular, he essentially wipes off the face of the Earth. 

With that in mind, I imagine a young Regulus eventually came to realize that Voldemort was systematically destroying the great families from the inside to put himself in power. It was never about the muggleborns or the country, it was only ever about power.

Then we get to the other bit, Voldemort being a fraud. Unlike many, I believe the Death Eaters had no idea who Voldemort was. It’s too unbelievable to me that some guy named Tom Riddle, who their fathers all went to school with, who everyone knew as a muggle born impoverished orphan, could convince them all that he was the next Merlin who they should devote their lives (and their money) to. Tom’s charismatic, but he’s not that charismatic. Better for Tom Riddle to just disappear entirely and show up as the Count of Monte Cristo, descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, impressing all the young heirs while their young, angry, and stupid. 

With Regulus finding out that his great leader is actually just the halfblood son of a squib, the whole movement falls apart. Regulus is a pawn, fighting for nothing he believes in. Now, that said, I don’t think Regulus ever figured out who exactly, Tom was. He clearly knew the name, as we see from the locket, but just knowing that Riddle is a muggle last name would be enough to know that Voldemort was nothing he presented as.

Basically, Regulus becomes extremely disillusioned with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in a few short years. The change he wanted to see sweeping the country doesn’t happen. Instead the violence, which he was initially very excited for (guys, Regulus did join a domestic terrorist organization and I will not cut him slack for that, he was excited to blow up some muggle borns) is pointless and hurting their own people as opposed to the muggle borns. 

During all of this we have Kreacher borrowed by Voldemort for the creepy horcrux placement. This certainly makes Regulus go “hm” and he’s clever enough to put together on his own that the locket must be a horcrux.

That said, I do not believe he knew enough about Tom Riddle to have been able to hunt down the rest or even know where or what they would be. Dumbledore had been paranoidly collecting memories of Tom Riddle’s entire goddamn life and relying on the plot convenient aspect that Tom was apparently so much of a romantic he never left his horcruxes anywhere but Britain and always left them in very noticeable sentimental objects. Regulus knew about the locket because of Kreacher, had he lived, he’d have no idea where the hell else to start.

So that’s Regulus for you, a fairly intelligent, yet youthfully stupid, extremist whose dream did not live up to the reality and probably still would have spat in Hermione’s face had the gang resurrected him from being a lake zombie.

As for Sirius, well, he’s James the asshole times a thousand to the point where he makes some “ha ha, very funny, but actually really this is horrifying” decisions. 

I guess we’ll start back when he’s young.

We don’t see much of the young Sirius, and granted, what we do directly is given to us by a very bitter, resentful, and biased Severus Snape but his actions still read a lot like pretty much any Stephen King bully villain. The scene where they’re tormenting Snape (and Snape drops the slur, Lily abandoning him) is horrifying to read. And it’s clearly one of many moments over many years of this group of boys sexually harassing him (and yes, that was sexual harassment guys, let’s not pull out stops here).

Then we get to the joke with Lupin that... really wasn’t a joke.

The flimsy excuse we’re given in canon is that a) it was all in good fun b) Snape was so much of a coward he’d never actually go to the Shrieking Shack because he’s a big chicken. Bawk bawk bawk, Snivellus the chicken. But, well, these excuses are flimsy. 

When you get down to the bare bones of it what Sirius did there was attempted murder via his chronically ill best friend. It’s one of those actions that I simply cannot justify, even had Sirius not thought it all the way through, as boys will be boys. What was the good outcome there? Snape sees Lupin and shrieks in terror? (Only to probably run to some authority and try to get the uncontrolled werewolf the fuck off of campus, nice going Sirius) Snape gets infected with lycanthropy? Snape dies, Lupin wakes up covered in blood with the horror of knowing he ate a classmate? 

Later, we do get Sirius sort of apologizing for his behavior. But it’s at best a ‘sort of’ apology. He never admits the full horror of what he did, just how relentlessly brutal he was to Snape, or what the werewolf thing really would have ended in. Instead he goes, “yeah, James and I were kind of assholes. He grew up though, Lily married him so he couldn’t be an ass anymore! And it was Snape, Come on, Harry, it was Snape.” And Harry, messed up asshole that he himself is goes, “Yeah, it was Snape! Stupid Snape!”

I also never got the feeling he ever fully apologized to Remus. Sirius used Remus in the worst of ways, made it clear he had no respect for Remus and no compassion for his condition, and continues to treat him as a sort of secondary friend to James. I think it says a lot that Remus was able and willing to believe Sirius was guilty of murdering James and Lily in cold blood. 

Which probably gives you a hint that I think Remus/Sirius would never happen except in the most toxic of ways possible.

Basically, in a fair world, Sirius should have been expelled if not tried for the werewolf incident. However, Dumbledore plays favorites and chose the sons of two lords as opposed to the poor half blood (which I imagine cemented Snape’s path to becoming a Death Eater). And so there is some cruel irony in that Sirius was eventually jailed for something, even though it was something he didn’t do.

Now, after Azkaban, Sirius seems to have mellowed out a lot. While he’s a bit unhinged and thoughtless (his rescue attempt of Harry’s rescue attempt at the end of Order of the Phoenix) a lot of this can be seen as after effects of his stay in literally hell on Earth for over ten years. 

That said, a lot of people see him as the cool uncle character who, if Harry had been able to live with him, all would have been well. I firmly disagree. Young Sirius was, well, god knows how warped Harry would have been growing up with a young and reckless Sirius Black. After prison he’s in no condition to take care of Harry, and even says as much multiple times. Sirius is cool to hang around at a distance, but up close and personal he’d be very messed up and not at all ready to be a father to a teenage boy. 

Otherwise, Sirius was very very very gay for James Potter. Unfortunately for him, James Potter was straight and into Lily Evans. I’m sure it was a very sad day for Sirius when Lily actually said yes to James. Except not really, because James always strikes me as a “bros before hos” kind of dude. Not that I’m sure if Sirius ever admitted he was gay and in love with James, I’ve always been of the belief that pureblood culture is extremely homophobic and it just... wouldn’t come up. 

So there it is, now excuse me while I go hide behind this barrier before I get eaten alive.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode. 

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished. 

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan. 

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably. 

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time.  WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive. 

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one.  As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.  

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple. 

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out. 

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover. 

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover.  Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly. 

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move. 

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm. 

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier. 

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.  

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.  

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..  

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.  

Dad To The  Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble. 

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.  

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.  

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible! 

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart