#if you’ve read the series you hopefully know why these names make sense

[sunnnfish]

Tbhk playlists btw

Mitsuba and kou ^

Hanako and nene ^

They’re probably like hyper specific to me and my perceptions and also some songs based on fics BUT. I like them.

[illfoandillfie]

A Different Kind of Eduation: R Is For Role Play (Chapter 12)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summary: Reader steps out of her comfort zone. Roger steps into the past. 

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, degradation (slut/whore/etc), role play, PIV sex, a littlespanking, restrained wrists

Words: 8,007

A/N: I really make you wait for these don’t i lmao. Originally this chapter had more stuff meant to be in it but while writing it I realised it would end up ridiculously long and tbh I would rather give you 2 short chapters than 1 long one. I can’t make any promises about when the next chapter will be up but it should also be on the shorter side so hopefully that makes it a bit easier to write. 

As always *** indicates the smut scene.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave@scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod @zeida @demo-wise@yuillfandomqueen @tie-ur-mother-down @rogermyreligion​ 

(idk how many of you are still interested in this fic so if you want your name taken off let me know, or if anyone wants to be added i can also do that)

Once again you found yourself outside Roger’s house, stomach in knots with nerves. Though not the usual nerves. You’d checked the curriculum before you left the house that morning, wanting to be prepared, and the one word that he’d used to describe that week’s lesson had been rolling over in your mind ever since. Roleplay. Somehow the idea of roleplay was more terrifying than all the bondage and spanking in the world could ever be. The arts had never been your forte, and the idea of acting and improvising and playing a character made you feel apprehensive and sweaty. But, you trusted Roger to not force you to do something you really hated the idea of, and so you let yourself in through the front door, as had become the usual custom. You were still providing drinks to accompany the dinners Roger made and, as soon as he saw you, he directed you to grab out a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard. You did so, trying to put your worries about the upcoming topic aside and just enjoy a nice meal with him. Briefly, you wondered if Roger could sense your uneasiness, his gaze settling on you like he was trying to read your thoughts, but then his eyes shifted back to the stove as he asked how your day had been and you gladly accepted the distraction.  

It wasn’t until you were settled at the desk in his study that you felt nervous again. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on, Y/N.” Roger said calmly. You cringed a little that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily but tried to keep your voice steady as you asked, “Are we looking at roleplay today?” “Yeah, that’s correct. You don’t like the idea?” “I’m doing a biology masters Roger, I’m not an actor. I don’t really want to pretend to get pulled over by a hot cop or whatever.” Roger chucked, “Fair enough. But I’d have thought this would be one you were looking forward to since it’s going to lead up into CNC and all of that.” “It is?” “Mmhmm. I mean, Consensual Non-Consent is just acting out a non-consensual experience. It’s a little more hardcore than the roleplay we’ll start off with, but it is related.”   “Well, when you put it like that...” “A theory lesson can’t hurt, right?” “Depends. The last couple of theory lessons you’ve had me trying prac stuff. What exactly are we going to look at?” “Well, I was going to start off with something easy. We can talk about why people roleplay and go over some of the basic scenarios – the stereotypical stuff like cops and robbers or uh, teacher and student,” he looked mildly uncomfortable but moved passed it quickly, “nurse and patient, that sort of thing. And then we can get into some of the more niche things like petplay and ageplay and then in a couple of weeks, if you’re ready, we can get into CNC and free use and the more intense types of roleplay.” You hummed in thought, “That sounds okay. I am still a little nervous about the more practical side though.” “And what exactly is causing those nerves?” You shrugged, “I already said, I’m not an actor.” “Neither am I. What’s really the reason?” For a half a second you considered arguing that he did have a background in performing for crowds, just with music instead of drama, and so he shouldn’t be allowed to make light of your nerves. But in the end you decided that being stubborn about it would just make him push harder, “I don’t want to look stupid. And I can’t imagine not looking stupid while saying that ive been a naughty girl or whatever you’re going to want me to say.” You could feel your cheeks heat as you spoke and looked down to avoid Roger’s eye.   Roger hummed in thought, “Well, that’s fair enough. No one likes feeling or looking stupid. But, counter point, you don’t have to say anything as cliché as that if you don’t want to. And even if you do say something cliché, I promise it will not feel as stupid in the moment as it would if you said it now.” “Yeah I suppose so, but still.” “Anyway, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just focus on going over what roleplay is and how people use it in sexual situations. Okay?” You nodded your agreement, hoping that knowing more would help you feel less self-conscious.  

“Right, well, let’s talk about humans for a moment. We’re a creative species. We’ve been telling stories since before writing was invented, it’s in our nature to imagine, to fantasise. So, of course, it’s only natural that those ideas can become sexual. Imagining something allows people to explore desires in a way that’s safe for them, especially if it’s a desire they wouldn’t normally admit to out loud. Its why romance novels are written. Its why people seek out pornography of specific fetishes. So roleplay is a way for people take those imagined situations to the next level, making it more real by actively participating in it. There are a few different forms that roleplay can take. At the most simple it could be wearing a costume associated with a particular role, like a nurse, or with a particular character, like Princess Leia’s slave outfit.” “You’re such a dork.” “That outfit is hot. And it was just an example.” He paused to make sure you weren’t about to interrupt again, “It may just be that wearing the clothes of someone else is enough to satisfy the fantasy, but often there will be a bit more to it. A scenario. You take on those characters and act out a scene. The nurse gives a patient a physical examination, Princess Leia is held captive and tries to bargain for her freedom. There’s some sort of a story involved that the participants act out. And then finally, as an extension of that, there are the taboo roleplays. Things like pet play and age play and CNC. Taboos make people curious, and it’s very natural to think about taboo situations or acts. Roleplaying something taboo gives people a safe way to explore it. And it doesn’t even have to be particularly sexual. Sometimes it’s not about that, it’s just about being someone else, about the feelings you get or the connection with your partner in that unusual situation.” “That makes sense I guess.” “One interesting thing to note is that a lot of the “standard” roleplay scenarios are based in power dynamics,” Roger dropped his hands from where he’d made quotation marks, “a cop has power over whoever they arrested, a nurse has power over a patient, a doctor has power over a nurse. Maid’s serve, kings and queens command, the list goes on. So, why do you think that is?” “Because...Because it’s an easy place to start if you’re interested in dom/sub dynamics?" “That's absolutely part of it. It’s a great way to dabble with kink, to test the waters so to speak. But I think there’s another bigger reason that people, even very vanilla people, might be interested in roleplay. Power dynamics are so prevalent throughout our society. Everyone has a boss; everyone has had an experience with an authority figure. And it is human nature to take something mundane and create a story where it’s more fantastical, more interesting, maybe even less scary. Or, to create a story that switches the power.” “Huh. That’s a really interesting way of thinking about it." “Of course, sometimes getting into a roleplay is how people discover kinks or fetishes and they can be steppingstones to other power based BDSM practices. But I think for most people, roleplay is just something fun that lets them explore something different in an accessible and safe environment. I will admit I did consider starting you off with some roleplay stuff when I was working out the curriculum. I thought that dressing up as someone else might help you feel more comfortable exploring new areas.” “What made you decide to start elsewhere?” Roger shrugged, “I knew that CNC and those areas we’re building to would tie into roleplay and I didn’t want to get too close to them too quickly. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be someone else to enjoy any of it." “I think you made the right call.”

Roger smiled for a moment and then seemed to remember he was teaching a lesson, “Okay, Y/N, I want to posit a theory and I want to know what you think about it.” “Okay,” you said a little taken aback but intrigued all the same.   “I suggest that we’ve already experimented with roleplay.” For a moment all you could do was stare in confusion, “But we haven’t.” “What makes you so sure?” “Because we haven’t been playing pretend or dressing up as anything. What we’ve been doing is real.” Roger looked supremely pleased as if you’d fallen into a trap he’d set. “What if I said that roleplay isn’t playing pretend.” “That's literally what you just said it was. Costumes, pretending to be something you’re not.” “Well, okay yes, a lot of the time roleplay can be about that. And that’s why you can walk into any sex shop and find naughty nurse costumes or sexy school uniforms or, fuck, even a sexy Santa outfit. But that’s just a side effect of roleplay being a way to feel like something you're not. I could still pretend to be Santa with all the double entendres about presents and chimneys even without a set of suspenders and red knickers.” You giggled at the image he’d conjured but Roger mostly ignored you. “The costume just helps the suspension of disbelief.” “Okay, sure,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Roger dressed in holiday themed lingerie, “I don’t understand where you’re going with it though.” “Okay well, let’s look at these basic scenarios we’ve been discussing. They take something mundane or even a bit scary – medical check-ups, having a meeting with an authority figure – and turn them into something fun and sexy. And in the process the people involved can explore things that turn them on but that they might feel wary about doing in a non-roleplay situation. Things like being told what to do, or something a little further like handcuffs or punishment spankings. It allows people a chance to try being more dominant or more submissive or even more hyper-sexual than they let themself be in real life. Thus, it’s a way for them to achieve a different headspace or to feel something they wouldn’t ordinarily let themself feel. And isn’t that just what we’ve been doing too?" “No,” you knew you didn’t sound very certain, but you didn’t want to accept he’d been right too quickly. “Okay, let’s look at an example. Take Daisy and Jo and their slave/master dynamic. In real life, by law, you cannot legally own another person. They can call each other the right names, they can agree on who gets to make which decisions, they can put their names down on a slave registry, they could even get Daisy a barcode tattoo if they wanted to go that far. And yet, Daisy is still her own person, Jo doesn’t really own her. Daisy has a job, she has hobbies, she has a life outside of their relationship, and she has her own thoughts in her head, her own autonomy. And you heard how when that autonomy was taken from her in a previous relationship, it stopped being a kinky dynamic and turned into actual abuse. Daisy and Jo play around with things that make them feel psychologically as if one really is the other’s slave but, in reality, she’s not. So, in that case, roleplay is no less real than other parts of BDSM. Roleplay is just the closest approximation we can get to it being real before it crosses into abusive, illegal or dangerous territory.” “That’s a pretty extreme example though,” you counted, feeling as if you were in Roger’s regular classroom discussing the results of an experiment, “What about a stock standard bondage scene?” “I think it still fits. What a lot of people get out of a dom/sub dynamic is feeling control or lack-there-of, right? And isn’t the bondage just a vehicle for making the submissive person feel as if they have no autonomy or to feel as if they can’t escape? Or for making the dominant feel like they have total control over someone else?” “I suppose so,” “Obviously in a safe, sane, and consensual scene that can’t ever really be the case. The sub always has the right to stop things, to say no. There might even be a physical way for them to get out of the bondage if they need to. The ropes just make it feel less like they have the option to get out. Ergo, it’s a form of roleplay. And we can’t ignore spanking. That for most people spanking is intrinsically tied to discipline. That a lot of the ways spanking is portrayed or thought of, both inside and outside the kink community, is related to punishment. That probably the most common spanking scene imaginable is a schoolgirl being punished by her teacher. Dressing up in a short skirt and long socks and a white blouse and promising you’ll do anything for a better grade.” You swallowed thickly, very aware that you were sitting in front of your professor. Roger seemed almost as flustered as you felt as he paused. He plucked his glasses from his nose and began to clean them on his shirt hem, his voice a little quieter when he spoke again, “And you don’t even have to get that specific with it. Just the idea of spanking as punishment within a sexual scenario can be construed as roleplay. Chances are the person being spanked didn’t really do anything bad enough to warrant a physical beating.” He put his glasses back on and the tension from moments before disappeared, “And yet everyone involved pretends they did because they enjoy the act of spanking or being spanked and because it makes them feel secure in the dynamic they’ve built. The dom is in charge, the sub obeys, there are consequences for stepping out of those boundaries. They perform their roles, and it makes them feel good and sexually satisfied and bonds them.” “Fine, okay, maybe you’re right then. But if this was your attempt to make me feel less nervous about doing a roleplay scene in prac, it’s not worked. There is still a difference between the two...even if it’s not as clear as I thought it was.” “No, you’re right, I do think there is a distinction. But I don’t think that distinction is based on one being more real than the other. And really, it’s up to the individual to figure out where that distinction lies for them. But I also think that if we consider them essentially the same thing, or at least closer related than one initially presumes, it can help you remember one very important fact.” “Which is what?” “BDSM is a conscious choice. And to me, knowing it’s a choice offers so much more safety and security than considering it “real” does. Whether I’m acting as the dom or the sub, it's a reminder that everyone involved has actively chosen to be there and if that desire to be there changes, everyone has the option to say as much. Which ultimately makes things more enjoyable.” You’d already known that Roger cared about your safety and how much you enjoyed yourself, but you couldn’t help but be touched by his obvious enthusiasm for the topic and his sincere way of expressing it. It was something you hadn’t been able to properly appreciate when you first started your lessons, but the more time you spent with Roger, the more he voiced his thoughts on sex and BDSM relationships, the more you found yourself admiring him. It made you feel like you’d definitely picked the right person to learn from.  

“We have two options now. Number 1, we can keep going with theory and look at some more specific areas of roleplay, maybe more taboo stuff like pet play and age play. Give you a sense of where roleplay can lead and how different dynamics like that work. Or, number 2, we can discuss some options for a possible prac scene and, if we can settle on something we both like the sound of, maybe we could try it out. I’m going to leave it up to you though. Whatever you're comfortable with. Although I will say, I would feel better about exploring CNC with you the coming weeks if we’d played with a simpler roleplay before then.” “So I have to roleplay then.” “It doesn’t have to be anything big and it doesn’t have to be tonight. But, yes, I would like it if we did.” “Did you have any scenarios in mind for us to do in prac?” “Nothing picked out but I can offer some suggestions you might like.” “Okay, hit me.” Roger hummed in thought, “I mean, basically anything can be a roleplay scenario. 1950s housewife and her husband, royalty and their servant, strangers meeting at a bar, a couple engaging in an adulterous relationship. Even fictional characters are possible. Are you into superheroes? I could be uhhh, I don’t know, Batman? Save you from some danger and you’re so gratefully horny about it.” You snorted, “Maybe something else.” “Do you want to go with something vastly different from our actual lives or something that’s a bit more familiar?” “Umm, maybe something more familiar would be easier to do without feeling like a complete wanker.” “In that case,” he made a clicking sound with his tongue as he considered your options, “you could be the babysitter I hired to look after my kids. Orrrr, I could be a repairman fixing something for you.” You didn’t hate the sound of either of them but also weren’t totally sure you wanted to do either and made an uncertain noise in response.   “I suppose if you wanted we could do a teacher/student thing.” You shook your head, “That’s too much like real life, I think it’d make me feel weird.” “Okay, good,” Roger sounded relieved, “In that case...maybe something with a similar dynamic but less baggage... a boss and employee? You could be asking for a raise or something like that.” You shook your head again, though more out of amusement than disinterest. “There is always a doctor or nurse thing, we both know biology after all. Or, well okay, this one might be a bit weird but hear me out.” “Okay,” “I could be a rockstar and you could be my groupie.” “Oh,” “Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” “Neither I just wasn’t expecting it. But I kind of like it I think.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I think I could be your groupie.” “Hanging off my every word,” Roger said suggestively, gesturing between you as if to say just like you are right now. “Willing to do whatever it takes to keep my attention.” “Something like that, yeah.” you laughed, “It seems doable.” “Alright, that’s settled then. So what sort of kinks would you want to include?” “Umm the usual stuff I guess, a little bit of degradation, maybe some spanking.” “Bondage?” “I don’t think I feel like that today. Not anything like ropes or cuffs, but I think I’d be okay with you physically holding my wrists or something.” Roger hummed in thought, “That all sounds very reasonable. Any thoughts to positions?” “Umm, not really. I’d be up for most things I think.” “I think I have some ideas then. Are you ready to get started now?” You were a little torn, the part of you that enjoyed having sex with Roger more than ready to go but the part of you that was apprehensive about acting was more in control, “Maybe a little more theory first. And maybe another drink.” “Okay,” Roger gave you a reassuring smile, “I’ll grab us a top up and then we can talk a bit about where we’re going with roleplay.”

When Roger handed you the glass of wine it was hard not to gulp it down in an effort to quell your anxiety.   “You know if you get too drunk we won’t be able to do any prac and we’ll have to come back to it another night. And I’d have to insist on full sobriety that time.” You narrowed your eyes at Roger and took a smaller sip before putting the glass down, “So what else have you got to teach me about roleplay?” “We might as well start talking about the more taboo forms. I mentioned age play before but I don’t get the sense Dylan is particularly interested in it, so I wasn’t intending on going into detail. All you really need to know is that it’s a form of roleplay that involves someone acting a different age than they are, typically younger.” You’d never seen Dylan look at anything like that before and he’d never mentioned it so you felt confident saying, “Yeah, I don’t think Dylan would be into that.”   “Okay, good to know. The other one I mentioned was, of course, CNC. But I don’t want to start on that until we can dedicate a whole lesson to it because it’s complicated and I want to make sure we cover everything. Which leaves just one other example I gave, pet play. How much do you know about it?” “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t really understand it.” “At its most basic, pet play is a kink in which one or more participants role play as an animal.” You dutifully noted down the definition, the familiar act putting you more at ease.   “Technically it comes under a wider umbrella of animal play, but I think pet play would be the more familiar term to most. There are those that engage in animal play as foxes or wolves or even mythical creatures like unicorns and dragons. But pet play as a specific subsection of animal play revolves around acting as more common animals like dogs and cats and horses.” “So, if it’s taboo and about animals, is it like roleplaying bestiality?” “No. Typically engaging in pet play is, like a lot of role play in general, more about exploring different behaviours and desires, than actually being an animal. Someone who explores pet play as a puppy might be attracted to it because it gives them a space to be playful and bouncy and loose. Or it might be because they really like the dynamics involved in being trained to do something. Whereas a someone roleplaying as a kitten might be interested less in the training and more in physical affection while still being able to play and scratch and bite.” “Uh huh,” you weren’t totally sure you understood it, but it did make pretending to be a groupie sound less daunting. “The other thing with pet play is it’s not always about sex. It’s a fun way to show and receive affection – being petted or groomed, curling up on their partner’s lap, playing silly games, just being looked after.” “That does sound kind of nice.” Roger smiled, “Yeah, it can be. But we can get more into that another time. For now, let’s just stick to human role play.” Roger frowned at his phrasing for a second and you couldn’t help but snort and roll your eyes.   “There’ll be none of that when you’re my groupie,” he playfully scolded, giving you a little wink, “Are you ready?” You took a nervous breath, “as I’ll ever be I think.” Roger gave you an affectionate look, "Give me a couple minutes to get a few things ready and then meet me in my music room.”  

*****

As soon as Roger left you reached for your glass again, downing the wine quickly. You poured yourself another half glass and drank as you thought. Groupies. You understood the basic premise and you could see the appeal in sleeping with band members, in an abstract sense. But you weren’t sure how much of what you knew was even close to accurate. You were mostly going off depictions you’d seen in fiction. Roger definitely knew more about it than you did, even if his band had only lasted a short while. So what would he be expecting you to say? How would he expect you to act? It made your stomach twist uncomfortably and you put the glass of wine down. You didn’t feel much like a groupie. Glancing down at your outfit you thought you probably didn’t look much like a groupie either. But maybe you could fix that, at least a little. Roger had mentioned costumes and outfits as a way to help feel more comfortable in a role play scene so, grabbing your bag, you ducked into the nearest bathroom. There wasn’t a lot you could do with your clothes but thankfully you’d taken to wearing skirts whenever you had lessons. The one you’d chosen fell just above your knees, but you were able to fold the waistband over itself a couple of times to shorten it. The shirt was a little harder to alter since it wasn’t a button up. You experimented a bit with tying it up at the hem but didn’t really like the effect so instead settled for just taking your bra off underneath it. The material was thin enough that Roger would probably be able to see your nipples and that definitely sounded like something a groupie would do. You touched up your makeup and applied some lip gloss you found at the bottom of your bag, and then as a finishing touch you shook your hair out to make it seem a little messier. Looking at your reflection you decided that at least you'd been able to do something to alter your appearance. That was when you heard the drumbeat, Roger’s signal that he was ready for you.  

He didn’t seem to be playing any specific song, at least not one you were familiar with, but the beat did make you feel a little more at ease as you headed toward the music room. Something about the background noise made it a little easier to believe your roles. And seeing Roger made it easier still. The door was ajar as you approached it, but you knocked all the same, pushing it open nervously. You noticed the flannel shirt immediately. It must have been one he’d had for a few years because it seemed worn and faded and a little tight around his upper arms. It was completely unbuttoned, his bare chest visible, and you were immediately reminded of the band photo that had been so popular on the university meme pages.   Roger grinned when he saw you, not even attempting to hide the up and down look he gave you as he twirled his drumstick between his fingers.   The movement immediately caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but be turned on, even though you still felt a little silly standing in his doorway.   “Can I help you?” Roger asked when you didn’t say anything. “Oh, um,” you could feel your cheeks warming as you tried to think what to say, “I just wanted to tell you I loved the show.” You cringed a little at what you’d come up with, feeling it was a little cliche, but it must have been alright because Roger responded with a lazy smile.   “Glad to hear it love. How’d you get backstage though?” You heart stopped for a moment as you internally panicked. Why had you spent so long on your appearance without spending a single moment preparing a backstory or anything useful to say.   “Don’t over think it, you’re doing great,” Roger said, dropping the cocky rockstar act and nodding in encouragement. And then, as quick as it had gone, the rockstar was back as Roger relaxed into his seat again, spinning his sticks absentmindedly. “How’d you sneak in?” “No one stopped me,” you shrugged, unable to come up with anything better on the spot. “Well it’s a good thing. I love talking to fans.” His voice dripped with innuendo, and you found yourself swallowing hard in response.   "I was hoping you’d want to...talk. I’m such a big fan.” Roger beckoned you towards him, “Close the door, love, I’d hate for our chat to be interrupted.” Your stomach did another flip, although a much pleasanter one, as you stepped further into the room. It helped that Roger seemed so at ease playing his role. You could easily imagine him playing for a crowd, flushed and sweaty as he banged out a beat. Even now with shorter hair and more of a dad bod, if he announced tomorrow that he was quitting teaching to go back on tour you would have no trouble believing him. He just looked right behind his drums. Not to mention hot as hell.   “Do you want to touch it?”   “Touch what?” you blurted, worried you’d missed something while you’d been distracted by the thought of a sweaty Roger pounding away at his drums. “My kit of course,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and bringing it to one of the cymbals, “You seemed pretty enamoured with it.” “Oh, yeah, it’s um bigger up close than I was expecting.” The cymbal felt cool under your hand but you had to assume that was partly from how warm you felt, embarrassed both at the cheesy line you’d just said and that he’d caught you daydreaming.   “Not the first to tell me that,” he replied with a wink and an easy suggestiveness that made you feel somehow even more warm. “I could show you how to use it.” “I’d love that,” you gushed, not entirely pretending. The drums did seem like fun.

You let Roger lead you around to his side of the kit, his hands settling nicely on your hips as he guided you to sit on his lap. The whole situation made you feel giggly and for a moment you forgot it was role play, wondering at when you’d got so bold as to hit on a rockstar but glad that it seemed to be working. And it definitely seemed to be working if the semi pressing into your backside was anything to go off. You suspected you were not the only one who’d felt the need to get rid of underwear. Roger’s breath hitched softly as you wriggled against him and he quickly guided his leg between yours, putting you on his thigh rather than his lap. You didn’t mind so much though, especially when he shifted, and his thigh pressed up into your cunt. Roger’s hands meanwhile were also moving, rising up your sides, the light trail of his touch making you shiver and your stomach clench with anticipation as he neared your breasts. You nearly groaned in disappointment when he pulled them away too soon and heard Roger chuckle in your ear as he reached for you hands instead. He pressed the drumsticks against your palms and then wrapped his hands over yours, guiding your movements to bang out a simple beat. The drumming was fun but it was hard to focus when his hands felt so warm and large against yours, and his breath tickled the side of your neck.   “You’re a natural,” You grinned, feeling quite pleased with yourself, until you gasped when Roger pressed his foot down on the kick drum pedal and you bounced on his thigh unexpectedly.   “Too fast for ya?” he asked cockily. You turned your head to try to see him better, “No, I’m a quick learner.” “Well show me what you’ve got then.” His hands moved down to your hips again, pulling you snuggly against his chest. It was enough of a distraction that he had to prompt you again, leaving you flustered as you hurried to comply.   “Harder than that, love,” He said when you produced a much quieter sound than he had, “Really pound it.” He emphasised the word with another stamp of his foot. Your second attempt was better but apparently not quite to Roger’s standards because he grabbed your chin to make you look at him again.   “Do you need me to show you how?” Words completely failed you so you just nodded, your stomach in knots with anticipation, practically able to feel the wet patch growing against his thigh.   Roger’s gaze flicked down to your lips as you both held the moment for a second longer, and then he was surging forward eagerly. His hand moved to your neck as he claimed you, his other still at your waist though his grip had tightened to keep you in place.   The drumsticks clattered to the ground and you couldn’t help the little moan that slipped out into his mouth, finally having an outlet for all the tension that had been building since you entered the room. The sound just made Roger smile, his lips quirking cockily against yours as his hands began to roam, down your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, toying with your undies.   “Don’t need these,” his tone making it clear you should have left them in your bag with your bra, as he pulled them down your thighs.   You raised yourself a little to help him, feeling as if you had to make up for wearing them in the first place. Roger seemed pleased with your initiative, or at least pleased that he could easily access your pussy, his fingers slipping between your lips. “So wet already,” he half moaned, two fingertips toying with your entrance.   You gasped again as he worked both digits into you, pausing a moment when he was around the first knuckle so you could adjust. But he didn’t wait long before he drew them back a little and then pushed them in deeper, and then again, clearly impatient to get you ready enough to take his cock. You were growing impatient too, your head still spinning from his kiss and from how good just his hand felt between your legs. “Rog please,” you whined, trying to sink down on his fingers, though the position made it difficult, “‘m ready.” “Yeah? Ready for my cock, huh love?”   You nodded and groaned, desperate to convince him as he continued fingering you.   Roger just chuckled, “Of course you are. It’s the whole reason you came here, isn’t it. To be fucked by a rockstar.” You nodded quickly, ready to agree to just about anything he said.   “That’s what I thought,” he almost growled as he drew his zipper down and freed his cock. His hands came back to you then and you let him guide you to stand, shifting around so that when he pulled you back down, you were aligned with his cock rather than his thigh.   You moaned as his tip breached you, his cock stretching you much more than his fingers had. But it was a very good stretch and one you were more or less used to by now. You didn’t even mind that he didn’t give you time to adjust, just kept pulling you onto his lap, making you take his whole shaft much quicker than he usually would.  

When you were finally seated fully, legs between Rogers’, your skirt rucked up under his palms, and your pussy stretched around the base of his shaft, both of you moaned almost in unison.   “Fuck, love,” he groaned against your ear, “taking me so well.” The praise made you squirm, and Roger moaned again as you tightened momentarily around him.   “Jesus. Whores like you are my favourite part of this job.” He managed to get out through his heavy breaths. You whimpered, continuing to wriggle in place, Roger’s hands still grasping you making it unclear whether or not you were allowed to move.   “You don’t need to tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had, I know I am.” Roger chuckled, the cocky rockstar act back in full force, “So why don’t you show me how grateful for my cock you are and ride me.” You didn’t need to be told twice, placing your palms against his legs to help steady yourself as you began moving as best you could. You never let too much of him escape your heat, raising up just enough and then dropping your arse back into his lap. As you found a good rhythm, his hands began to wander, squeezing your breasts through your shirt at first, though he quickly pushed the material up until your chest was exposed and he was free to grope you as much as he wanted.   “That’s right, fuck yourself just like that,” he growled, “feel amazing on my cock, love.” The praise only made you moan more, especially since he said it like you were lucky to be pleasuring him at all. But you knew that, despite the attitude, he really meant what he said. He was breathing hard against your neck, making you shiver as he let out little moans each time you sank down on his shaft. And then there was the drum. Roger’s foot was still on the pedal and whenever you tightened around him enough or moved at just the right angle, he'd jolt like he wanted to spear up into you and a sudden stuttered bang would sound. You chased the sound of the drum almost as much as the sound of his moans, both making it seem like he was losing control, like you were cracking through his arrogant attitude.  

But Roger wasn’t going to make it too easy for you. Whether because he was intent on finishing his lesson or he was just so lost in how fucking hot the groupie roleplay was, you couldn’t tell. It added up to the same thing though. He pulled your arms behind your back and gathered your wrists together in one hand.   You whined and halted your movements but Roger tutted at you condescendingly.   “Is my cock too much for you? Maybe one of the other girls could handle me better.” You shook your head, “No, I just-” “Shhh love, I don’t care. Just ride me.” You whimpered but that seemed to amuse Roger more than anything.   “Already admitted you came here for my cock and believe me, love, you’re not the only one. So do what I say or I’ll find another slut who’s willing to do whatever I want.” The thought of him kicking you out before either of you finished was nearly as distressing as the thought of him replacing you with someone else. You quickly began moving again, trying to get back into a good rhythm. It was harder to ride him without the leverage your arms had given, relying on your leg muscles alone as you raised and lowered yourself. But the struggle just made it all the hotter. And Roger must have agreed because he groaned again, even though you couldn’t manage to move as much as before.   “Such a hot cunt,” he moaned, “don’t stop.” You whined as you felt his grip on your wrists tighten but didn’t dare stop riding him even though the effort was making you pant and your thighs were beginning to burn.   Roger’s breath hitched as you next sank down, “M-might have to keep y-ou around all t-tour.” He grunted. The thought made you moan and you found yourself hoping he meant it, hoping you could accompany him on the bus and share his hotel rooms. As if reading your thoughts Roger grunted, “Fuck you when-whenever I want. Y-ou’d like th-at.” It wasn’t a question but you answered anyway, a breathy, “yes,” falling from you as you desperately tried to keep fucking down on Roger’s cock.   Thankfully your unexpected response had an effect on Roger. He let your wrists go suddenly, growling as he manhandled you off his lap. Pushing you to stand, you felt yourself bent forward over the drum kit as Roger took over fucking you.   You braced yourself as much as you could, the drums rattling a little as you leaned on them. Mostly you were just glad your legs were getting a break, and thankful that your cunt was being stuffed at a faster pace. All you could do was moan at how good it felt, and brokenly plead with Roger not to stop. It was perhaps the loudest you’d ever been with anyone, not just Roger, but it wasn’t a conscious decision. They were not the sounds expected from a science major who was in the middle of a sexual awakening with her professor. They were the sounds of an eager groupie. Unashamed and unapologetic.  

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” As if to prove that he was in charge, Roger paused, holding your hips so tight you couldn’t even squirm on the cock filling you, "Fucking cockwhore, aren’t you love?” You whined but nodded. Roger just chuckled and then picked up where he’d left, one hand moving up your back to hold in you in place as he railed into you, one hand slipping down to rub your clit sloppily.   The tension in your stomach nearly had you sobbing, so close to orgasm, and without worrying about how you sounded, you began begging Roger to make you cum. It nearly pulled him from the scene. He’d hoped you’d get into it, lose your inhibitions and enjoy playing pretend, but he’d not expected to hear anything so wanton from you. He miraculously kept the rhythm of his thrusts, but momentarily lost his voice, managing only a moan at your desperation and then a croaky, “You gonna cum?” It wasn’t nearly as commanding or demanding as he’d been moments before, but he cleared his throat and said it again as a statement rather than a question.   You were too far gone to notice the slip, nodding in answer to both. Roger’s lapse passed and he lay a spank against your arse, “Words, whore.” “Y-yes, yes, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, please.”   He spanked you again, chuckling at your pussy’s response, before moving back to your clit, his fingers more deliberate this time. “Go o-n then love,” his breathing was heavier, strained from the effort of fucking you as well as his own approaching climax, “Cum on m-y cock and I-I’ll give it to you e-every night – of the tour.” It didn’t take much more than that and the pleasure crashed into you, Your legs trembling as Roger kept fucking you.   He was swearing at how tight you felt, managing to get out half formed thoughts about how desperate for his cum you were and how jealous the rest of the band would be that you’d gone to him. To an observer it would have been unintelligible gibberish. So, it was probably good that you barely registered it, much more concerned with how it felt as Roger came too, his hips pressing against you, his cock pushed as deep as he could get it, filling you with his warm cum.  

*****

You came back to yourself, still bent over the drum kit, still full of Roger’s cock, his heavy breaths hot on your skin as he gently stroked your arm. The embarrassment came quickly after that, your skin burning as you cringed at everything you remembered saying. Roger pressed his lips to the back of your neck, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” You nodded, half wishing he’d stay put just so you could avoid looking at him for a bit longer.   But he didn’t. He hissed a little as he eased himself from between your legs, apologising when you reacted similarly, and then turned you around, cupping your face in both palms as he kissed you properly, on the lips.   You tried to push your embarrassment aside and enjoy the kiss but it was hard to do when you kept thinking about how ridiculous you must have sounded. In fact, you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice the sound of Roger’s fly being done up or him gently pulling your underwear back up your legs. “Thanks,” you mumbled when you realised, his palms warms where he smoothed the fabric now on your hips, grateful that he’d thought of it before cum started dripping out of you. “Guess I should clean up.” Roger caught you around the waste and shook his head, retaking his seat as he guided you onto his lap again. Only this time you were facing him so he could kiss you more.  

By the time he pulled away you were feeling marginally better, telling yourself if you’d been too much of an embarrassment, he wouldn’t want to make out so soon.   “See, wasn’t that fun?” he asked, his knuckle brushing against your jaw. You made an evasive gesture, “I guess so, yeah.” “C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it when you got so into it.” “I really wasn’t expecting that. I must have sounded like an idiot.” “What? No.” Roger seemed perplexed by your statement, “Try insanely sexy.” “Really?” “Absolutely Y/N. You were perfect. I knew it was going to be fun the moment I saw you’d altered your outfit. Because that meant you were going to give it a proper try.” You smiled shyly, “It was fun.” “There we go, yeah it was!” “I assume it’s not always like that though.” “No,” he shook his head, “I mean, it depends. Sometimes you can be fully emersed in the scenario like tonight, and sometimes you know you’re both just saying lines. But that doesn’t make it less hot. Would you want to experiment more with role play?” You thought about it for a moment, “I guess I’d be open to it.” Knowing Roger, you were sure he’d ask for more details so hastened to add, “I am a little curious about how pet play works now.” Roger seemed surprised, “I was meaning like trying other scenarios – the nurse thing maybe, or... but yeah, if you want to know more about pet play I think I can teach it.” “Oh, I- fuck,” you buried your face in Roger’s neck, feeling likely to die from embarrassment if you opened your mouth again. But Roger just chuckled, rubbing your back softly, “It’s good that you told me, Y/N. I want to know what you’re curious about.” “I guess so,” you said managing to lift your head high enough for Roger to press his lips to your temple, “I'm just curious how it works because it sounds a bit weird. Especially after tonight, cause like, I imagine it’d be harder to feel fully immersed in the scenario when you’re pretending to be an animal. It’s so different from pretending to be a groupie.” “I love that you’re curious. I’ll have the kids from Thursday night until Sunday but, if you want to, we could do this again tomorrow or Wednesday to fit in a bonus lesson about pet play. Would that work?” You nodded, managing to meet his eye briefly but looking down again as you said, “Wednesday would work. And maybe, if I don’t want to try pet play we can do the nurse thing instead.” “That’s a great plan,” Roger smiled, gently tilting your head up so he could kiss you again.   You melted into him, almost disappointed when he stopped. It might have just been a projection of your own feelings but you got the sense that Roger didn’t quite want to stop either.   All the same, he did, his hands lingering. “I should let you go and clean up.” “Yeah,” you nodded, “I should probably be going soon.” It was at least another thirty seconds before his hands left you and you stood up.

[i-hate-people-1]

This is the final part of my Warren Rojas fic I know it’s been a while but I wanted to do this series justice hopefully y’all enjoy it! thank you so much for reading you have no idea how much it means to me!

It's a little under 3.k words and it's a little spicy towards the end but there’s nothing explicit

Warren Rojas x reader

Masterlist

Not my gif

Warren                                                                  

"Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I had to come up with a way to tell her that I really did love her, and it wasn't just drunken rambling.”

“I think you should just tell her how you feel.” Karen sighed.

“He can't do that,” Eddie laughed.

“Why not girls like that? Besides, you know that she feels the same way,” Karen said, looking at the boy, exasperated.

“I know, but she said, I think what if now she thinks that she hates me?” Warren told them, falling dramatically onto the couch face first as Karen and Eddie laughed at him.

It's been two weeks. TWO WEEKS! Since Warren said he loved you, he still hasn't said anything. absolutely nothing.

You've still been hanging out every day. He’s just done nothing, and it’s killing you!

Every time he opens his mouth, you pray it’s those three words you oh so want to hear, but nothing!

Your strategy has been waiting things out, but enough is enough. Whoever said a girl can’t make the first move?

And you were so sure it was going to happen right up until you knocked on the door because you swear every bit of courage that’s ever been in your body just took a vacation. With no notice, your palms started sweating, and there was this quiet, incessant ringing in your ears as your brain came up with every possible way this could go wrong and then some.

But just as you were deciding between running back home and never talking to any of them again or making up a reason you were here and playing it off, a man you didn’t recognize opened the door. He had longer, unkempt curly hair, sad green eyes, and an unpleasant frown on his face as he noticed you standing on the other side of the door.

As you were opening your mouth to ask who the hell he was, he held his hand up, making you shut it. “We don’t want whatever you’re selling." He told you, slamming the door in your face.

You stood there for a while before snapping out of your shocked state. I mean, what the actual hell who does that? It’s so rude!?! You have half a mind to stomp in there and tell him to learn some manners. I mean, the nerve of that guy. You banged on the door more aggressively, ready to give this guy a piece of your mind. Unfortunately for your anger, but maybe good for your sanity, it was Camilla who opened it this time.

"Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, seeing your upset state.

“No, who the fuck was that guy?” You asked, trying not to scream, but with your aggravation, it was proving to be difficult. “I mean, he didn’t even let me talk; he just held up that condescending hand and slammed the door in my face. Ugh, what an asshole," you complained as you walked in the house, not letting Cammy get a word in edgewise.

“That asshole is the owner of this house,” the guy snapped from the kitchen doorway. “Who the fuck are you?” he bit back, his glare intensifying as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Instead of letting the man get to you, you turn to Camilla, choosing to talk to her instead of him. "Seriously, Cami, who is this dude?"

"Y/N, this is Billy Dunne, my husband,” she sighed.

Suddenly it all made sense. This was the Billy Dunne two-timing asshole dream-crushing dick and every other bad name. In the book extraordinaire, I mean, you’ve heard story after story, and so far, they’re looking to be true. This guy sucks.

"Oh,” was all you said. I mean, how are you supposed to respond? You were at a loss for words; all you could think was just poor Cami, unfortunately for you, though Billy took your silence as a win.

"Oh, that’s all you got. I should think you’d at least offer me an apology,” he said, smugly smirking at you, which pulled you right out of your speechless state.

“Excuse me,” you said, getting upset. “I owe you an apology. You're the one who slammed the door in my face, but no, your right. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry." You paused with a serious tone, waiting just long enough to make him cocky before finishing “that you’re such an asshole,” and the smirk was immediately gone as Cami hid her laughter behind her hand.

Billy went to reply before you stuck your hand in his face to shut him up as he did to you earlier. "Ah, ah, the adults are talking,” you said, motioning between you and Camilla. "Now, Cam, I love you and I respect your life choices, but this guy is a dick." Billy’s jaw clenched, his fist balling at your words.

Luckily, before your mouth could get you in too much trouble, the front door opened again, revealing Karen, Graham, Eddie, and Warren. They looked at you all, surveying the situation with confused looks. Billy looked pissed while you seemed perfectly fine, and Camilla was trying not to fall on the floor in fits of laughter.

They had caught Mount Billy just as he was erupting, and unfortunately,them being there wasn’t enough to stop it. “Who the fuck are you?!" Billy yelled at you. Billy yelled at you, and Warren snapped, punching Billy straight in the nose and jumping on his friend, who had fallen to the ground, laying on punch after punch.

Warren

"Man, I don’t know what happened, dude. It was just like my body went into autopilot. I don’t even remember jumping him until Eddie pulled me off.”

“Don’t you fucking yell at her, you asshole, I’ll kill you. I swear, Billy Dunne, I’ll fucking kill you!.” Warren continued to scream at him as Eddie pulled him out of the kitchen. Warren struggled against him the whole time.

You all stood in shock at the events that just unfolded. Warren was normally so calm that you had no idea he was even capable of something like that. You came too as Camilla passed you to check on Billy.

He was fine, a little bruised, nothing he didn’t deserve, but he’d be fine. His eye, lips, and cheek were starting to swell already as Camilla and Graham helped him up to his and Cam's room to clean him up.

“He's calming down in the bathroom,” Eddie said as he walked back into the kitchen. “I think you should check on him,” he told you, putting a hand on your shoulder squeezing it gently.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. You tried to shake the nerves out as you walked towards the bathroom.

"Warren,” you knocked on the door softly after a quiet come-in. You interred Warren was sitting on the counter, staring at the wall in a kind of dazed-out state. You knew he was just as confused at what just happened as all of you, so you chose not to ask any question right now that could wait till later.

You walked to the cabinet below the sink. You took out the small first aid kit you knew they kept under there, grabbing the boy's bloody hand and gently cleaning it, trying not to focus on how close you were to him.

“This is going to sting a little,” you whispered, putting on the antiseptic. He winced softly but didn’t pull away.

You finished wrapping his hand and setting it back in his lap before stepping in front of him to get a better look. His eyes widened when they met yours before falling to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Your heart hurt at the boy’s dejected tone.

"Hey,” you tried to get his attention, but his gaze stayed glued to the floor. Putting your hand under his chin, you lifted his face, moving it to look at you. "Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You lost your temper. It’s okay. It’s not like it happens a lot. I’m sure Billy will forgive you."

“No Y/N That’s not why I’m sorry. I don’t regret doing it. I’m just sorry you had to see that side of me." Warren told you, and you nodded, unable to keep the oh expression off your face as you listened to him. “Billy deserves it and more. I mean, I love the guy, but he’s such an ass and so arrogant. I can’t believe he yelled at you like that, I swear.” You could tell he was getting angry again by the way his fist clenched and his eyes filled with rage, so you stopped his words by bringing a finger to his lips. Those gorgeous, perfectly plumb, oh, so kissable lips. Wow, you were whipped, you thought, catching his puzzled expression, pulling your hand away, clearing your throat, realizing you probably made him uncomfortable.

As you moved to take a step back, Warren's hands found your arms, keeping you in place as you met his gaze again.

You stayed there a while in comfortable silence, staring at one another. With Warren's hands still on you, yours had moved to rest on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful." Warren whispered breaking the silence you blushed profusely at his words moving to cover your face and brush the comment off but Warrens hands kept you from hiding “I’m serious,” he told you noticing your disbelief “That first day we met me and the guys spent thirty minutes just staring at you from our house before Karen said we should offer to help you I almost said no too” he paused chucking as he recalled that day as you were practically hanging onto ever word he said “ I was so scared because I swear the moment I saw you out that window my heart stopped and going over to talk to you that was even scarier I mean I was just a guy in a dying rock band and you well I didn’t even know you but you were everything even if I didn’t know it yet”

"Warren,” you whispered to caution him because if this wasn’t what you thought it was, you’d be crushed and you couldn’t live with that, so maybe just maybe if you stopped it now, you could still be best friends. You could just pretend none of this ever happened. It was a terrible existence, but one where you kept him was better than one where you lost him.

"Wait, please, just let me finish. I need to say this." Warren understood your whisper to be one of rejection, but he needed to get this off of his chest; it was eating him alive. Your gentle nod told him to continue. He took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his nerves before he spoke again. “You were even prettier up close, and you were so humble trying to refuse our help. I figured you’d never want to talk to us again, but when you did, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t believe that such a pretty girl was even giving me the time of day, but I thought you just saw me as a friend, and I settled for that because as long as you were in my life, it wasn’t really settling." He paused again, unable to muster the courage to finish his confession, before looking into your eyes. Those beautiful Y/C eyes that took his breath away in most other circumstances just gave him courage this time.

“But I can’t do that anymore; it’s killing me, and I know you don’t feel the same anymore, so everything will go back to the way it was right after I get this out, I swear, but I love you so much, I just had to tell you just once,” he finished, tears falling down his cheeks as he did, looking at your shocked face as emotions washed over him. He couldn’t quite place it; it wasn’t regret; he definitely didn’t regret it, perhaps sadness for the friendship he felt he’d ruined maybe even defeat from his pending rejection.

As Warren was stewing in his emotions, you were trying to come up with a way to tell him you loved him to prove to him that you did just as much, but he had just poured his heart out to you. How are you going to follow that? So you stood there in shock, racking your brain for the perfect response.

"Okay,” Warren sighed, letting you go as he got up from the counter. "Look, I know I said things can go back to normal, and they can. I just need a day to feel miserable, and then it’s business as usual,” he chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation before exiting the bathroom, leaving you behind so utterly confused it took you a second to process.

Realizing he must have taken your silence as rejection, you quickly left the bathroom to catch up to him, calling for him to explain how he had made it all the way outside. You’d never know.

You finally caught up to him as he was opening the car door. “Warren!” You called again, running up to him and closing the car door for him. Poor thing looked so confused and upset.

"Look, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a day."

“Shut up and kiss me,” you cut him off, to which his face contorted in more confusion, and he tilted his head like a puppy, making you laugh at his cuteness. You rolled your eyes, pulling him by the collar of his shirt into your lips. He snapped out of his daze, his lips quickly moving against your arms, wrapping around your waist.

“Finally!” Eddie shouted from the porch, where he Camilla, Graham, Karen, and a bruised Billy stood, everyone but Billy and baby Julia in his arms were cheering.

The two of you pulled away, bashful. You hid your face in Warren's chest to cover the blush as you both laughed with your friends. Warren pulled you closer to him, with one arm around your waist resting on the small of your back and the other on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“Hey guys?” Warren shouted at your friends as they stopped cheering and paid attention to him. “You’re kind of ruining the moment!”

“Or we’re making it more interesting,” Graham yelled back, shooting finger guns at the boy.

“Go away,” you said, lifting your face from Warren's chest.

Cami and Karen respected your wishes, pushing the boys inside as Graham and Eddie awwed, “I still don’t know who she is.” You heard Billy complain as the door shut, and the two of you laughed, turning your attention back to each other.

“So…” Warren started rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that was in your hair.

You smiled coyly, pulling him in for another kiss, which he gladly reciprocated.

This kiss was longer; you got to feel the way his lips felt on yours, how soft they were, and the way his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, finding their way into his hair, tugging on the ends slightly so you could pull away.

“I love you,” you said in between breaths, your lips still so close together that you could feel the smile that overtook his features.

“I love you,” he said, quickly reconnecting your lips and lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling into the kiss, breaking away from his lips and leaving kisses across his face as you made your way to his neck as he started to walk the two of you to your house.

As y’all entered the house, he kicked the door closed with his foot pressing you up against it, pulling your head from his neck, and smiling at the small pout you gave him for having your attack on his neck interrupted.

He chuckled, taking the opportunity to kiss your pouted lips, which in turn made you smile.

“I love you,” Warren told you, pulling away from your lips. He made a trail of kisses down to your neck, whispering “I love you” in between each kiss, making you grin like a crazy person.”

He only stopped when he found a spot on your neck that made you whimper as he kissed over it, deciding to suck on the spot and grinning into it when you let out a quiet moan.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Warren panted as he pulled away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours, beautiful brown eyes meeting your own.

“How crazy?” You asked, pecking his lips and capturing the bottom one in between your teeth as you pulled away.

“So crazy, you have no idea,” he replied, tilting his head back and groaning, his eyes shut tightly.

“Oh yeah?” You egged on kissing his neck again as your hands found their way under his shirt.

“Yeah,” he whispered in between gentle moans. The effect you had on the boy was insane; he full-on whined when you pulled away, grabbing his head in your hands to have him look at you.

“You want to show me?” You asked cheekily, making a giant grin take over his face. His eyes clouded slightly, but you could still see every emotion in them. You could feel the love he had for you in that moment.

“With pleasure,” he smirked his lips on you once more, leading you to your bedroom, never breaking away from your lips.

Warren

“One of the best nights of my life.” Warren smirked at the camera, giving you a wink behind the camera.

[timeagainreviews]

The Eve of the 60th Anniversary-ish

My ability to name things isn’t the best. I overthink and end up with a five-year-old blog called “Time and Time Again.” Terrible name. “I should change it,” I’ve said for five years. Well, I am going to do just that. But in the meantime, I need to find a name for this type of article. As is tradition around here, I like to write a short article about my predictions, expectations- nay, hopes for the incoming series or era of Doctor Who. I usually label them as “Thoughts Leading Up to…” which is fine. But is there a word or phrase out there that says it succinctly? A sort of Whatchamacallit, Marsupilami, Raxacoricofallapatorius? If I do find a better name for this series, do I call it part five or part one? Davies is calling season 14 “Season 1.” Why can’t I?

In considering a new name, I have decided to return to the very first article of this type- “The Eve of the Thirteenth.” So from now on, I’m calling this my “Eve of Series.” Hopefully, you’re reading this article on the Eve of the 60th Anniversary special “The Star Beast.” Or you’re way late to the game and it’s August. In that case, enjoy your view from Hindsight Bias Tower, as you laugh at my fatuous forecasts or marvel at my prognostic aptitude. So in no particular order, here’s a list of some shit I’ve been thinking about.

RTD2

Where else to start but the man himself? And what a controversial man he’s been (especially this week!) Not five minutes into the new RTD era and we’ve already had a massive retcon in the form of Davros. While, the discourse on this situation has been its usual abysmal self,  I expect this to be par for the course. From Chibnall stans hoping their aggressors end up with egg on their faces to the far worse transphobes and ableists decrying every decision thus far, Davies is right there in the centre of it. Pushing people’s buttons. He seems like a man on a mission and if I had to guess, it is to shake the cobwebs out of our collective Doctor Who-themed sheets and duvets. 

Davies has a monumental task ahead of him. Make something both the Chibnall stans and his haters would like to watch. He could ignore the haters, but they help keep the lights on. And just as important, you don’t want to alienate the people who have enjoyed the show for the last five years. In many people’s eyes, mine included, Chibnall left a broken show in his wake. It’s my opinion that Russell T Davies plans to break it further. I’ve thought about this a lot lately, and I think it may be time for us as a fandom to question why the Doctor has so many rules. Because let’s be honest, Doctor Who’s canon is a mess and it barely matters. Why not embrace that? You think the Cushing movies and the Past Doctor Adventure books are canon? Sure, why not. You still incorporate the Faction Paradox into your version of Doctor Who? Go for it. We all have our own version of Doctor Who, why not embrace that?

The Whoniverse

Considering the popularity of muti-verses in media right now (get ready for multi-verse fatigue) it makes sense that this new Whoniverse may start embracing the many directions Doctor Who branches. This is an opportunity to explore different avenues of the Whoniverse while simultaneously fueling the ever-ravenous Mouse’s need for Content™. In other words, Doccy Who is about to get crammed down our throats like nobody’s business. If you’ve ever had someone’s business down your throat, it can be nice but can also wear out its welcome. Short breaks help.

If you’ve read this blog, you’ll know I’m a rainy-day fan. I’m here for the long haul. I am not so much worried about overexposure to Doctor Who as I am the diluting of story. So long as the stories are good, I’m happy. So far, the Whoniverse has extended in the form of “Tales of the Tardis,” a sort of saccharine introduction to classic Doctor Who for beginners than an actual series in its own right. But in its short span, this unassuming nostalgia trip introduced us to an aspect that may just be integral to the Whoniverse at large. When Ace notes the Seventh Doctor’s older appearance he replies- “Timestreams are funny things. In some, I regenerate. In others, I don’t.”

Every time Data returns to Star Trek, we have to ignore the fact that Brent Spiner is ageing. Why does the Second Doctor have grey hair in “The Two Doctors?” These issues have bogged Doctor Who down for its entire run. It’s a rigid aspect of an otherwise malleable narrative. Not only does this dialogue explain the ageing appearances of Doctors, but it also gives writers carte blanche to do as they like. In this way, the Sixth Doctor gets a better costume. The Seventh Doctor has grey hair. And Davros has always walked. It’s a show about time travel and we as fans keep treating it like we’re the Time Lords. Time travel should be weird and confusing. As the Eleventh Doctor said- time travel is damage. Perhaps the Whoniverse will allow us to see some of that damage in its own time.

Fourteen’s Familiar Face (and Teeth)

When I had originally heard murmurs of David Tennant returning, I wrote them off as the worst idea possible. It’s not that I dislike David Tennant, but rather it felt like a step back for the show. I’ve always admired the show’s capacity for change and this felt stagnant. No Doctor should be the Doctor forever. Rather cleverly then, the show introduced us to Ncuti Gatwa before David Tennant. Already my curiosity had been piqued. Tennant was returning, but only for a moment. You have my attention, Russell. They knew we would see Tennant filming in his slick new threads, and they got ahead of it. It feels like equal parts stunt casting and clever writing. It would be unfair to any new Doctor to carry the weight of the 60th on their shoulders, so let’s revisit some of the old favourites, eh?

The Children in Need special was our first look at this Doctor, and as my friend Taryn put it- it was great until the Doctor showed up. It was a joke, but the stuff with Davros was genuinely interesting on its own. As soon as the Doctor showed up, the tonal whiplash was jarring. This isn’t to say it was bad. It’s for the kiddies, it should be lighter in tone. The joke about the Kaled anagram that went on too long was evidence early on that we were about to slip into the realm of panto. The main takeaway is that David’s still got it and that Ian Levine needs very little reason to turn on you. Neither of which was unknown to us before.

Donna and Rose

One of the more annoying traits some Whovians possess is the tendency to see a selection of Doctor Who characters and say “You left out so and so.” And usually, more often than not, that so and so is Rose Tyler. There’s always someone out there ready to see more David and Billie. That’s why I was pleasantly surprised to see the return of Donna Noble. But as a nice little nod to what came before, we get her daughter Rose. I love the entire idea behind this Rose. As Sharon Davies, Doctor Who’s first black companion was first introduced in “The Star Beast,” it’s delightful to know Doctor Who’s first trans companion will be introduced in “The Star Beast.” There’s a nice symmetry to that.

I also like what Rose implies about Donna’s story. When we last saw Donna, she was getting married and about to win the lottery. Her husband Shaun and her are still together all of these years later, and they have a daughter named Rose. As a trans person, I latched on to the name aspect of Rose’s character immediately as trans people name themselves. If she picked the name Rose out of nowhere, is it possible that a dormant Doctor Donna somehow passed attributes onto her progeny? Is there more to the name than coincidence? I certainly hope so. Russell T Davies seems dedicated to telling trans stories and our names are a huge part of our journeys. If he turned that aspect of the trans experience into a wibbly wobbly timey wimey phenomenon, I might love him forever.

I’m also just stoked as hell to see the return of Donna and her family. They’ve been hush on Wilf in the trailers. I suppose they’re trying to keep some surprises for the people out there who haven’t had Doctor Who news pumped intravenously for the last year and a half. I hope that they don’t forget Donna and Shaun’s lottery winnings. It would be a shame to see Donna bumbling around trying to find temp work after all this time. I hope she never had to work another day in her life. What I want for Donna, is a lot of what the trailers seem to imply- for her to feel whole again. Her adventures were stolen from her. I hope they don’t just bring her back to kill her. Donna doesn’t need to die to leave the TARDIS, she has a family. Give her a happily ever after!

Disney+

While we here in the UK will see no Doctor Who on Disney+, the rest of the world will. This is pretty big as many younger international viewers resort to piracy as they don’t have cable and no one in their right mind would pay for HBO Max or whatever the hell they’re calling it now. Recently a bunch of the usual shitty diaper babies shat their shitty diapers over the idea that people in other countries might be able to watch Doctor Who before the UK. I highly doubt that will be the case. Just because time zones exist doesn’t automatically mean that they won’t wait to drop the episode once it becomes available in the UK. I don’t know that for certain, but what I do know for certain is it hardly matters.

I’ve also seen some people worry that Disney will have too much say in Doctor Who’s content. And while they have given RTD the occasional note, it is still Bad Wolf making the decisions. I would like to think that Disney knows to leave well enough alone. They’ve not exactly had a great year at the box office, so it’s not like their advice is valuable these days. They could tell you a hundred ways to tank a franchise, which is technically helpful. Add to that the year they had with SAG-AFTRA and I think they’re probably hurting for a bit of help from their friends in Britain. Disney’s biggest contributions will likely be calling season 14 “Season 1,” as to not confuse subscribers and a higher budget.  We appreciate the cash injection, Mickey, but please piss off.

Murray Gold replacing Segun Akinola

I wrote the exact opposite of that sentence five years ago. It’s weird how many aspects of Doctor Who have returned, but this was the first one that actually felt like a step back to me. Murray Gold is a great composer. His theme for The Face of Boe is a gorgeous piece of music. Matt Smith’s theme song might be my favourite Doctor Who theme song ever. But I am a fan of the Radiophonic Workshop and Segun Akinola was tapped into that in an exciting way. I’m just not sure what more Gold can do than more of the same.

Gold’s new intro was the second time I was disappointed by RTD’s Doctor Who. While many people were living for it, a few of my friends and I were disappointed. It gets a bit meandery and the parts you want to go hard simply don’t. I’m going to chalk this up to the poor sound of a live performance and hold my final judgement for the fully mixed version. As it stands, it’s standard Murray Gold. Nothing new. Underwhelming in its sameness. However, as I was tufting a Doctor Who rug the other day, I listened to the first six season soundtracks back to back and found myself pleasantly surprised by some of their offerings. Gold was always doing his best work when it was atmospheric and electronic. That’s the Murray Gold I’m most interested in hearing more from.

The Specials Themselves

For the most part, I’ve stayed away from fan speculation. Even in this blog, I’ve tried to stray from speculating actual plot points (save for Rose). I mostly hate it because it’s all hearsay and ultimately bullshit. There have been the supposed “leaks” about bi-regeneration and even if they’re true, it doesn’t mean it’s automatically bad. Good writing can make just about any concept work. If you were to read out the plot synopsis of any story, it could sound awful. What a synopsis lacks is gripping dialogue, compelling scenes, and filmmakers coming together to achieve the correct tone. You can't gauge how good something is going to be by description alone.

What I can see is Neil Patrick Harris as the Toymaker, pulling the strings of the Doctor’s fate. Is he the reason for this familiar regeneration? Is Beep the Meep’s status as a comic book character part of it? How meta will this go? Will the Doctor remember Beep the Meep from his Fourth Doctor days or will the Meep be brand new to him? I’ve said before that you don’t want audiences asking the wrong questions. I feel like every question I’ve had since filming began was one of curiosity as opposed to confusion. I’m excited to be excited over Doctor Who again. When they revealed the three posters for the specials, I literally jumped for joy. I was ecstatic. These posters were creative, fun, and they left you wanting more. Fantastic.

My Own Relationship to the Show

My version of Star Wars is the original trilogy. I can’t stand the prequels. But lately, I’ve tried to take a lighter attitude toward them. While I still think they stink, I also recognise that they’re here to stay. That’s kind of where I am with the Timeless Child. I still hate the concept, but I accept it’s here to stay. And I am actually trying to be more open-minded about it. Now that we have better writers at the helm it might even turn into something interesting. As I stated above, the fandom is due a shakeup. As it stands, I am pretty open to a shakeup. This doesn’t mean that I don’t secretly hope Susan will show up and be revealed as the actual Timeless Child, but I’m realistic.

Recently someone also pointed out to me that the Doctor’s watch could have turned the First Doctor into a normal Time Lord, with the usual number of Time Lord regenerations. While this doesn’t explain why the Doctor being the most important Time Lord ever was necessary, it at least helps plug a plot hole. It’s ironic that Chibnall’s questionable writing may actually lead to Doctor Who’s canon being blown wide open. Equally ironic is the fact that he has actually improved my enjoyment of Doctor Who. I call it the Chibnall Effect. After the Chibnall era, middling episodes of the Davies and Moffat era have been bumped up considerably. Sometimes it takes a bad film to help you recognise a good film. 

There’s a wrongheaded notion floating around these days that RTD fans are living off of nostalgia. While I don’t doubt there will be someone out there chasing a feeling lost to the winds of time, I should also point out that not all of us watched the Davies era as children. I was in my late 20’s when I got into Doctor Who. I have no little kid nostalgia for it. I was a junior in film school. I’ve been taught how to view art critically and I can say that the Davies era has its flaws and its strengths. I think for an atheist, he has a weird obsession with the Doctor as Jesus. And I found the schmoozy romance between Ten and Rose nauseating. But the man knows character development. He understands human emotion better than Moffat’s stunted women or Chibnall’s stunted everyone. What I’ve found in revisiting the RTD era is a consistent focus on characterisation. Without that, all of the clever writing and stellar effects amount to nothing. I love when Doctor Who is great, but at this point I’ll settle for competent.

A Personal Note

As I stated in my Monster Makeovers article, I will be covering the new episodes as they release. However I have recently started a bit of a project. I have taken up rug tufting and hope to eventually make a living out of it. Because of this, I will have to budget my time. My hope is that I will always have time after episodes to write reviews, but they may occasionally be a day late. If you’re interested in following my rug tufting journey, I started an Instagram account under the name pipedreamfasting. Feel free to drop me a follow.

In other news, I am actually planning on changing my blog’s name. I’ve been mulling a few ideas over, but nothing is final. Maybe I’ll do a poll, that is if my reader base is large enough for a poll to matter. That being said, I hope your Doctor Who anniversary special experience is a happy one! There’s been so much vitriol in the fandom lately that we could all use a positive experience. Happy anniversary to the greatest show in the galaxy!

[kiruuuuu]

I really hope you make more Recruitverse fics one day, because it's honestly a CRIME to leave it on "and that 'we', once again, doesn't Include Jojo." like KIRU PLEASE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS

WELL, @noivoom, you are absolutely correct that I cannot leave my five idiots there! Your ask(s) were actually a large reason why I wrote some more recruitverse a while ago and now I'm finally getting around to posting it 😊 I hope you enjoy it 💝

It's from Shay's POV and also part of my ongoing advent calendar - this is day 5 ❄ (Rating T, chaos as usual with some emotional hurt, ~7.3k words)

.

The message comes out of absolutely nowhere.

Well, kind of. They have been exchanging texts all day, so receiving another one is hardly out of the ordinary, but it’s the content that catches Shay unaware: btw my flatmates are both gone tonite wanna come over?

And oh boy, does he ever. There’s no need for a saucy wink or an aubergine emoji, the intention is a flashing neon sign Shay plans to heed. Admittedly, Jojo’s coaching sensitised him to the topic and the simple rhyme of ‘home alone, she wants to bone’ stuck in his head so well he found himself scribbling it down in his notes absent-mindedly, earning him a stern talking-to by Thatcher of all people (and that’s a conversation he never wants to have again, ta very much), but all this doesn’t matter because it’s finally going to happen. They’re gonna do it. He’s going to get with a girl he really likes.

“I can’t believe it”, Valenti speaks up from the other corner of the locker room. Shay’s mind is so filled with everything Brittany-related that he instantly assumes everyone must be sharing his excitement and blurts out a thrilled: “I know, isn’t it amazing?!”

Three aghast faces turn in his direction, while Gian’s eyes are glued to the floor. They don’t look like they’re talking about Brit at all, oddly enough.

“Shay, shut up”, hisses Jojo – which, fine, he’s been holding a grudge over something Shay must’ve done a while ago as he genuinely can’t remember what it is, so his dismissive attitude comes as no surprise, but Ivan merely shaking his head in disapproval clues him in. Something bad has happened.

Hopefully not so bad that it cockblocks him. He quickly taps an enthusiastic reply before joining the others with an appropriately grim expression. “Can we do anything about it?”, he wants to know, because he’s first and foremost interested in a solution. A solution means he can leave early, and leaving early means he’ll get to see Brit sooner, and seeing her sooner means -

“You don’t know what is problem”, Ivan states, and of course he’s right.

The only one who takes pity on him is Gian, even paler than usual: “Through a series of unfortunate events, Jagriwo came into possession of my notebook.”

“Who?”

“You’ve really lived under a fucking rock this past month, haven’t you”, Jojo snipes at him again with more vitriol than Shay is used to, “I’ve been barred from saying ‘Jacob Griffin-Worthington’ all the time, so we’re calling him Jagriwo now. A name just as unintelligible as the asshole himself.”

“Ah, alright”, Shay nods, since it makes perfect sense, and only then does it hit him with the full force of a lorry: their self-declared nemesis somehow stole the very book holding all of Gian’s most intimate thoughts – or so Shay assumes. He’s never actually read a single line from it as he supposes it’s like a diary, personal and private. Valenti once reported accidentally skimming over a page and not understanding a thing, so it might be written in code, who knows. In any case, this is bad news. “This is bad news”, he states for everyone else’s benefit.

“We’re past the stage of shock and impotent rage already”, Valenti waves him aside, “it’s time for a plan. How do we get it back? Ideally before the prick reads it?”

“It is possible he remains unaware of the confused bags”, Gian replies with vague hope, “he and I carry the same make. Has he not yet unpacked his, we might -”

Just then, an eerie sing-song reaches their ears in the distance, uttered by an uncomfortably familiar voice: “Hey mo-rons! Come look what I ha-ave!”

They grimace in unison. There’s little better at uniting them than a common enemy, and the annoying wanker facilitates it immensely. “Guess that answers the question”, Valenti speaks what they all think. “Let’s go see what he wants.”

.

“Aren’t you guys a sight for sore eyes, thank you for turning up so obediently”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington drawls in an overdone posh accent, probably thinking it makes him sound cool. Their two groups are opposite each other in the already cramped changing room now, Jacob’s posse having joined them after Jojo willingly communicated their location – there’s four other henchpeople flanking Jacob left and right, two of which Shay knows a little. He wonders whether Jacob chose to make four friends in total to match them, just in case they’d ever have a dramatic one-on-one fight involving personal vendettas and experts in the same field clashing against each other.

“As I understand, I have a little something you would like back”, their fellow recruit continues and waves the familiar object in front of him, the small leather-bound book they’ve all seen a million times whenever Gian jotted down random thoughts or the events of the day or possibly tomorrow’s weather. It remains a mystery to Shay. “And I’m very interested in hearing what you’re willing to offer me in return.”

“So you’re blackmailing us”, Valenti summarises succinctly.

“Let’s not put it in those terms, this is merely a friendly … exchange, I would say, after all -”

“Are you doing this because you’re jealous that we’re actual friends?”, Shay blurts out and experiences a satisfying touch of vindication when their collective nemesis falters.

“Uh, no, I’m just -” And before he can regain his composure, Ivan Ivanovic has stepped forward and snatched the notebook out of his hand.

The ten of them stare at each other for a long moment. Ivan hands the book to Gian, who immediately shoves it into his pocket. Jojo performs a very rude gesture with both hands, reciprocating Shay’s grin once he notices it.

“Don’t think I didn’t take any photos!”, Jacob threatens with the pathos of a small child.

“Break his phone, too, Ivanko.”

“I do not like to destroy private property.”

“Oh, since when do you Reds care about that?”

Jagriwo’s comment earns him a dark look. “I do not extend same courtesy to noses.”

“What do you even want?”, Gian tries to move the conversation along. “What do we possess that you desire?”

This time, the others shift and exchange quick glances, the lone girl speaking up in Jacob’s stead: “You got into South Carolina. We want it.”

Oh.

Yeah, fair enough, Shay gets it – there’s a limited amount of spaces for the special training course in SC and Thatcher asked them to apply for it in groups, which explains why Jacob suddenly surrounded himself with these cronies to form a team of five. Until just now, they didn’t even know their nemesis wasn’t selected. No wonder his mood is this rotten. “You can have it, honestly”, Shay replies easily, shrugging; he’s not keen on the camp anyway, it sounds like way too much work.

Instantly, Valenti fixes him with a disbelieving stare. “No he can’t!”

“Didn’t you say it was a kindergarten trip for dummies who haven’t passed Rainbow boot camp yet?”

“But that was before I knew they didn’t get in!”

“I’ll gladly give up our spot”, Jojo agrees. “If they wanna crawl around in the mud for three weeks, let them.”

“They don’t even deserve it. If they weren’t chosen, they shouldn’t go.”

“Excuse me?!”, Jagriwo interjects, incensed, “You guys have been licking Thatcher’s and Sledge’s boots, which is the only reason you got accepted and we didn’t!”

“Allow me to correct”, Gian joins in as well now, “we lost a wager and involuntarily tended to their every need as a result. It was far from an attempt to ingratiate ourselves.”

“We betted that Valenti could go week without arguing during training”, Ivan adds with a side glance towards the very same.

“Hey, I tried to let it go, but that simply wasn’t how boules is played, you don’t try to hit your opponent in the head with -”

“This is why we lost bet”, Ivan interrupts the angry Frenchman, indicating him in his entirety. Which only fuels his anger.

“You know, this isn’t the time, but let me educate you on the sports of my people. It’s a long-standing tradition and I’ve played it with my sisters on every single one of our -”

“Just take our spot and we’re even”, Jojo addresses the slightly lost-looking recruits opposite them and Shay is all for it – the faster they get this resolved, the earlier he can ditch everyone.

“They don’t deserve it!”

“Do we not?” Jacob is genuinely miffed now. “How about a competition, huh? We’ll figure out which group is better at their jobs, and the winner gets to go to SC. If you win, I’ll delete the photos. If we win, we’ll get to do what we want with Giovanni’s notebook. And trust me, I’ve found things in there some of you would prefer to remain secret.”

Oh no. He hit Valenti right in the competitiveness, there’s no way he’ll let this go. They exchange a few glances, the upset Frenchman predictably determined, Ivan curious and Gian fatalistic. That’s two in favour already, and Jojo suddenly seems to have changed his mind and doesn’t look willing to concede anything anymore either. Odd. Normally, Shay would be on his side and ready to fight these tossers in a heartbeat, but today…

“I’m kinda busy”, he mutters apologetically, sparking an outraged expression on at least two of his friends’ faces.

“This is our chance to outdo these self-important wankers!”, Valenti hisses.

“You know we can still hear you, right?”

“Fine. Let’s do competition”, Ivan agrees on their behalf and with that, their fate is sealed.

.

“This is all my fault”, Gian sighs into their midst as they’re huddled together for warmth next to the running track. Winter is in full swing and while they’re not blessed with any more snow, the icy temperatures make for a poor substitute.

“Doesn’t matter, we need to talk strategy now”, Valenti shoots back. “What do we know about them?”

They’ve decided on five disciplines embodying skills all operators are expected to excel in, though Jacob invented a few extra rules: the teams can choose each other’s champion and nobody can be picked twice. Shay very much suspects that each team is secretly relieved about that last rule as they both have a weakest link.

… though he’s not entirely sure which one is theirs. Ivan Ivanovic surpasses them in nearly everything, Valenti comes very very close, Jojo is a skilled shooter, fighter and amazing with electronics, and Gian is just a jack of all trades, really. So Shay can’t really pick who’s worst.

“I don’t even know who the fuck they are.” Jojo is eyeing their opponents critically. “I know Jagriwo, but the rest?”

“The thin bloke with the full beard is Whip”, Shay offers his limited knowledge. “We got accepted at the same time and he’s alright unless you’re up against him, then he’s scary. I wouldn’t go with him for this.”

“How about the Asian? She is tiny”, Ivan suggests to which Gian shakes his head emphatically.

“I have had the misfortune of sparring with her in the past and though her physique is not the most imposing, she makes up for it in ferocity. I would only wish her on my worst enemy.”

“Jagriwo is a beast and that one dude is way too tall”, Valenti decides, “so it’ll have to be the Spanish guy. What’s his name again?”

“Maradona.” Since Shay has loosely hung out with most of the other recruits, he remembers some names here and there. “He’s Spanish, called Diego and a football fanatic, they had to give him that nickname.”

“Maradona it is then.” They shrug, unsure of what to expect, and turn to their adversaries to announce their choice.

“Your funeral”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington grins. “We’ll nominate Rogers.”

“Looks like they haven’t seen me fight”, Shay comments as Gian sighs and prepares to actually throw hands for his diary – Shay fancies himself the worst hand-to-hand combatant in all of the SAS and wears that title with pride. It’s not easy to stand out in their organisation.

“Darling, everyone has seen you fight. Mostly because you make the weirdest noises when trying to punch someone, so you draw a lot of attention.”

Jojo and he exchange a quick smile that warms his heart despite the biting air invading their lungs. The whole situation has an absurd aura, he’s pretty sure Jagriwo cares about this way too much and will probably harp on about their defeat forever (in case they lose, which doesn’t seem that unlikely), but for the first time in months, if not years, Shay is too disconnected from their shenanigans to bring himself to get into it. His thoughts are with Brit as are his priorities, and so he hopes all this will be over soon.

That said, Gian and his opponent have only just entered the ring they drew in the half-frozen mud, getting into position. The first challenge is about strength as much as it is about technique: leave the ring or fall to the ground, you’re out. A clever grip could mean victory just like a hard shove would, and the champions are of similar build and height, granting no obvious advantage. Gian blocks the kick aimed at his thigh and is, in turn, hindered himself before the two circle each other, cheered on by their respective teams. When next they lock arms, Shay realises this could take a while.

“Did you forget to get rid of your venomous snake?”, Shay asks when he spots Dante’s head poking out of Gian’s sleeve, likely wondering what the fuss is about and being confronted with a close-up of Maradona’s face.

The Spaniard no doubt catches sight of the snake and lets out an unmanly shriek followed by a defensive jump backwards – right outside the assigned ring.

Total silence for a few seconds. Nobody seems sure how to react, Jagriwo’s expression is utterly dumbfounded and his team isn’t faring any better.

“Let’s get a move on then, lads.” And before anyone can even think about complaining, Shay turns and strides away. He’s got places to be.

.

“Alright. The second challenge is all about technology. We may use it every day, but do you actually understand the devices you’re using?” Jacob Griffin-Worthington is probably going for a tension-building game show host of some sort though it’s obvious he’s shaken up by Gian’s near-instant victory half an hour ago. His group is falling apart, the only woman not even listening to him anymore and instead texting incessantly, Maradona and Whip still arguing quietly in the background – only the Swiss recruit whose name still eludes Shay is reticent as always, staring them down with a scowl surpassing even Valenti’s on a bad day.

“Just tell us what to do”, sighs the very same, visibly done with Jagriwo’s theatrics.

“No time for a little pizazz, hm?”

“Not when you’re basically blackmailing us into this, no.”

“Whatever.” Like a professional bully, the Englishman ignores the accusations and sets a laptop onto the table between them. They’ve relocated to the canteen, accepting the risk of getting spotted – not that they’re doing anything illicit, but if they ran across Thatcher he’d surely find a way of making them do work regardless of what it is they’re currently up to. “This belongs to Blitz. Don’t ask how I got it, I have my ways.” He wiggles his eyebrows and absolutely nobody is impressed. Everyone knows Blitz forgets his stuff everywhere all the time. “Whoever is chosen as champion has to crack the password and access the laptop under Blitz’ own account.”

“Why would we need to know how to do that?”, Valenti complains, not noticing how Jagriwo’s brows rise at the indignation in his voice.

“Guess we’ve already found our champion.”

Shay is just happy he doesn’t have to do this or else he’d probably end up disappointing Jojo even more. There’s something going on with him, their interactions don’t come as natural as they used to and Shay is convinced it’s his own fault. Because he can’t imagine Jojo doing anything wrong.

“Who should we elect?”, Gian mutters after they’ve withdrawn into their private circle. He’s livelier now, owed most likely to the fact that he won his round. “Jagriwo himself seems too knowledgeable and besides, I presume his real weaknesses lie elsewhere. I can only assume Whip acquired his soubriquet from the idiom ‘sharp as a whip’, therefore I would rule him out also.”

“How about woman now? She might be physically gifted, but electronics?”

As if on cue, they all turn around to stare at the Asian-American who looks thoroughly done with the incessantly whining and gesticulating Maradona. She seemed to have made the mistake of advising him to drop the subject, which he took personally and is now chewing her ear off while she stares at her phone screen even more pointedly. When Whip nudges her, she glances up, realises her opponents are looking at her, and the slight panic in her expression gives her away.

“I’m in favour”, Jojo mutters. “If only to get her away from that annoying blabbermouth. Nobody deserves that.”

“We’re choosing her”, Valenti announces, to which the short woman grimaces. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

“You each get increments of half an hour during which you can do whatever you want with the laptop. If you don’t manage to get into it, it’ll be passed over to the other person. Only your time counts: whoever does it fastest by their own time wins.”

“Are we allowed to talk?”, Jojo wants to know innocently.

“Sure, whatever. You can go first if you want.”

Shay’s best friend nods at Valenti. “Go for it. I’ll talk you through it.” And before Jacob Griffin-Worthington can object, Jojo has already pulled up the instructions on his phone and started guiding Valenti on what to do.

Well. Looks like they have it covered. Gian and Ivanko seem intent on listening and learning, but Shay has no mental capacity for a proper lecture today, so he wanders a little until Whip joins him and the two of them catch up on what’s been happening in their lives recently. Idly, they watch as Maradona throws another tantrum about how what Jojo is doing is cheating while Jagriwo tries unsuccessfully to argue with Ivan Ivanovic that Maradona is right (and he might as well have started a discussion with a brick wall, there’s no reasoning with the Russian if he does not want to be reasoned with).

Eventually, the opposing champion takes a seat next to Shay and eyes him curiously. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m Shay, howya. What’s yours?”

“Anna.” She looks up briefly to frown in the direction of the very loud, very oblivious group of fellow recruits. “This whole thing is stupid, isn’t it.”

“Yep.” Shay catches a glimpse of the brightly-coloured screen in her hands and adds: “Oh, I have that game. Wanna play a round together?”

“Yeah, alright. Whip, wanna join?”

And so the three of them spend about twenty-six minutes peacefully murdering waves of zombies while Valenti nearly starts crying from the pressure. Shay would feel bad for him, but really, it’s his own fault. Ultimately.

“Think it’s my turn”, Anna sighs when her leader barks her name in disbelief, immediately berating her when she joins their bubble again about ‘consorting with the enemy’ and ‘failing to prepare’ as well as ‘sabotaging the only people who care about her’ or something similarly ludicrous, to which she simply replies: “Shut up. I got this.” And with that, she marches right out of the canteen. Leaving behind a dumbstruck Jagriwo, a still expressionless Swiss bloke and a furious Spaniard.

“She’s nice”, Shay comments, to which Whip nods.

“Yeah. No idea why she hangs around with us.”

Jojo and Valenti are still celebrating when Shay joins up with them again, both of them looking like they just ran a marathon. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done”, Valenti beams, “and I never wanna do it again. But Shay, did you see, I was like a hacker in the films, all focused and cool and -”

“Is she… coming back?”, Gian wonders quietly as Valenti continues bubbling over in excitement.

About five minutes later, Anna does indeed come back. She makes a beeline for the laptop, types something in, presses enter and presents a now unlocked laptop to everyone.

Suddenly, Valenti and Jojo look like they’re going to lose their minds.

“I asked Jäger”, she shrugs. “Told him Blitz forgot his password again and sent me to get it. No lie, the IT security in here stinks.”

For a moment, it seems like Jacob Griffin-Worthington is about to propose to her, until Ivanko decides to poke the bear again and asks: “Is that cheating?”

Maradona bitches the entire way to the shooting range and Shay admires him for his lung capacity.

.

The following challenge passes by quickly and rather uneventfully: sharpshooting is the required skill, so Shay advises them to pick Whip for this as he knows the Welshman is notoriously bad at it. Their adversaries choose Jojo, not that it matters much as the only one of their group who’s miles ahead would be Valenti while the rest is somewhere close in skill. And though Jojo wins, the two of them end up almost evenly matched, to Shay’s surprise. It might have something to do with the few sentences Jagriwo mutters at Jojo in a voice so low nobody else hears, but when Shay asks about it afterwards, his best friend assures him that it had nothing to do with his bad performance – he claims he was still exhausted from the mental exercise during the previous challenge.

Odd yet again, but Shay doesn’t pry. He does notice Jojo’s hands shaking, however, which happens when he’s under a lot of emotional stress. He wishes he knew what was going on so he could help in any way. The only thing he can do is compliment Jojo’s hair to which the German looks at him like he just sprouted an additional head.

Well. He tried.

.

As soon as it’s obvious where they’re headed, Valenti falls back and surrounds himself with his own group. “Obstacle course”, he speaks what they’re all thinking. “There’s no doubt they’ll pick you, Shay, they have no choice, Ivan holds the record among us recruits. That means if we win this next one, it’s three out of five for us – it’ll be over. Now, I happen to know that Jagriwo’s best time is worse than yours, Shay, so we have a real shot at ending it right here, right now.”

“Of course you would know everybody’s times”, Ivanko comments with a grin, letting out an uncharacteristic chuckle when Valenti jabs him in the side with an elbow. “Do not worry. Even if you do not win, Shay, I will.”

Despite his assurance, Valenti’s words resonate with Shay: he could actually put an end to this madness. That means visiting Brittany sooner, which means -

“Don’t listen to him, darling, you got this. Make me proud.” Jojo’s voice is strained and still he manages a slight smile which is even more motivation. Yeah, Shay will do his best. He’ll win this round and therefore the whole silly game, he’ll get to do the do with his girlfriend, and he’ll make his best friend proud. A win-win-win situation, his favourite.

It’s much too fast from there: as expected, Shay is chosen while they pick Jacob in turn, the two of them get changed and warm up and suddenly, they’re next to each other at the starting line, Shay’s heart pounding in his chest as he considers the consequences of failing. Despite not caring much about the overall contest, now it’s his own skills on the line which doesn’t leave him cold; he relishes competition, or else he never would’ve made it here. A healthy nervousness has taken hold of him, a heightened state of mind, he’s alert and keenly aware of his entire body the way he is when on a mission.

He’s ready.

“If you lose, I’ll tell you a secret”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington says out of the corner of his mouth, making Shay frown in confusion.

“I don’t wanna know any of your secrets”, he responds, and then someone yells GO and his body moves of its own accord, springing into action with practised ease. He can’t count the times he’s run this course, to various degrees of success: when he was brand new and still bouncing between groups in Rainbow, he remembers how daunting he found this exercise, shivering even at the mention of it. It’s brutal, a demanding mix of precision and pure speed, horizontal and vertical movement, arm- and legwork. Most of his muscles used to burn for days after an intensive training unit here, and now he could probably do it in his sleep.

He’s off to a head start, his long legs a big advantage on the early sprints as well as shorter jumps, but as soon as climbing starts being involved, Jagriwo makes up ground. Shay concentrates on his breathing, the placement of hands and feet, the icy air in his lungs. Vaguely, he can hear his teammates cheering him on, and though he pays next to no attention to it, he somehow notices Jojo’s voice missing in the chorus. Odd. But Shay doesn’t have the luxury of worrying about it.

By the half-point, he’s still ahead and plans to stay there, Jacob not too far behind but audibly struggling where Shay has good reserves to fall back on. The ground is an active obstacle, an unpredictable mixture of mud and frozen bits, making Shay regret a few times not cushioning a fall more. Regardless, he’s doing great and getting closer to the goal by the second, keeping his panting to a minimum, instead opting for a steady pace, and then he slips on an ice patch.

It’s a mean one, he can tell instantly, the moment his foot just whooshes out from under him instead of providing support he knows he’s well and truly fucked. He manages an undignified squawk somewhere on the way down and instinctively brings his arms up, but even they can’t stop his head from smacking right onto the frozen soil. The loss of balance feels like a drop out of a fourth floor window, only much faster, and so he’s much too disoriented to get up and try to keep running, instead opting to blearily stare at crystal-covered blades of grass right next to his nose and contemplate existence.

Looks like he won’t make Jojo proud after all. Especially not with this splitting headache.

There’s cheering going on somewhere, exacerbating the pounding in his temples, and he understands right away that Jagriwo made it, that he was beaten. Someone pats his back with more force than necessary.

“Can you get up?”

He blinks up at two Ivans and stretches out his hand, getting pulled up with next to no input from himself and swaying unsteadily while holding on to the Russian. “My head hurts”, he mumbles, trying to correct his blurry vision. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make it.”

“You were at record pace, too. You had chance to beat my time.” Ivan Ivanovic inspects him for a moment, eventually deciding that he’s fine, so Shay stops worrying. If he’d been bleeding badly or anything like it, Ivanko would tell him.

It’s only then that he realises Ivan is the only one who came to his aid: Jojo, Gian and Valenti seem to be talking insistently among each other, with Jojo looking pale and shaking his head a lot. This isn’t right. “Ivanko, what’s going on with Jojo?”

A small pause. The Russian pats his back again. “Better get changed. You will catch cold.”

Shay doesn’t think thicker clothes will help with the vague frost settling in his insides. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He’s not sure he wants to.

.

Though it’s getting late, the sun nonetheless shines down on their stupid little contest. By now, most of them are grumpy for various reasons, several pairs have formed and emit unintelligible grumbling as they complain about this or that, and despite Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s steadfast refusal to admit this whole thing was pretty pointless, even he seems to be losing the spring in his step. Regardless, he trudges on, leading them to the canal for some reason.

“Last challenge”, he proclaims loudly, ignoring a few passers-by giving them odd looks. “This is the one who decides the winner! It’s as gruelling as it is straightforward: submerge yourself up to your neck in the icy water. The one who stays in there the longest wins.”

Suddenly, Shay is extremely glad he was chosen for the obstacle course, even if he doesn’t appreciate the pulsing headache. Below them, the river seems deceptively pleasant, the water calm and clear – but it couldn’t be any warmer than just above 0°C. This is a daunting task for pretty much everyone.

“We don’t really have a choice who to pick”, Valenti shrugs, equally eager to be done as most of them are. “Go for it, Swiss dude.”

“My name is Köbi”, comes a quiet reply from the taciturn recruit, prompting Jojo of all people to reply: “Yeah well nobody can pronounce that.”

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Jagriwo has noticed Ivan Ivanovic unzipping his jacket in preparation of the challenge. “It’s not your turn, mate, you’ve already gone. We choose – wait, who do we choose?”

His group exchanges confused glances until Whip speaks up: “He’s the only one left.”

Their leader turns away from their adversaries to hiss a very audible: “But then we lose. Ivan can’t be allowed to do this.”

“Try and stop me.” Ivanko keeps piling clothes onto a helpless Valenti as if all of this was just another Tuesday, unlacing his boots with practised ease.

It is now that Jagriwo seems to realise what everyone else has understood before they walked all the way to the river: he’s lost. With Ivan left as their last champion, there’s nothing he could throw his way that would tip the scales in his favour. Valenti’s triumphant grin from behind Ivanko’s folded-up trousers conveys as much.

“I, uh, wasn’t finished explaining the rules of this challenge”, he tries to delay the inevitable, floundering, “you also have to, um -”

“Let us go in.” Ivanko, clad only in his underwear, nods in the direction of the ladder leading from the promenade right into the water. Köbi seems hesitant but probably assumes Jagriwo’s wrath would be immeasurable if he chickened out now, so he quickly undresses as well and immediately starts shivering. This doesn’t bode well for him. Ivan Ivanovic even goes in first, opting to quickly glide into the icy river instead of dipping his toes, followed by his Swiss opponent.

Who curses heartily in what Shay can only assume to be a thick accent as soon as he touches the surface, and the cursing quickly morphs into barely-suppressed wails and moans. He sounds like he’ll start crying every second now.

Jacob Griffin-Worthington is livid.

“You don’t deserve this win!”, he rages. “You’re just a bunch of arse-kissing wankers who scrape by doing the absolute minimum.”

“What does that make you then?”, Jojo responds, words dripping with vitriol. “You lost to us. You don’t even belong in Rainbow.”

“And you do? I don’t know about the others, but I know how you got in. Did some favours to get your résumé looked at, didn’t you?”

Fucking hell. Shay frowns, notices his expression mirrored on both Whip’s and Anna’s faces (though he takes note of their silence), and asks: “Why are you such a sore loser?”

Gian’s muttered ‘this is hardly productive’ gets lost in Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s following fury. “You arseholes are really pissing me off! The only reason you won this is because you have one, one semi-competent fucker among you who keeps you afloat, the rest of you are worthless. You wanna know what your so-called friend wrote in his diary? You wanna hear some excerpts? Because I’ve got a small collection of quotes here, just stumbled over these, they’re everywhere.”

“Not really”, Valenti objects. “If he’d wanted us to hear them, he would’ve told us.”

Undeterred, Jagriwo pulls out his phone and begins reading off the screen. “Valenti, he calls you petty, ‘hindered by delusions of grandeur’, ‘desperate to belong’ – mate, he thinks you’re insufferable, that’s what I’m getting out of this.”

The author of the quotes looks pained, uncomfortable, avoiding their gazes. Shay has never seen Gian this ashamed, their gentle, thoughtful, caring Gian this distressed. He opens his mouth, likely to address the accusation, possibly explain himself, but Valenti is faster: “Well he’d be correct, wouldn’t he?”

Their nemesis blanks for a second. “Pardon?”

“I mean, I am those things. He’s not wrong. But I’d bet my life that’s not all he said about me. Right? You’re just picking things out of context and trying to upset us, it’s not gonna work.”

But instead of being defeated yet again, Jagriwo’s eyes move to a new target. And Shay suddenly pieces it all together.

Everything falls into place: their weird reaction when he implied that Gian’s diary being stolen wasn’t that big of a deal – everyone else seemed to know something he didn’t yet nobody clued him in. He wasn’t supposed to know, he realises belatedly. They all knew something he didn’t, which also explains why Jojo has been so withdrawn lately, why he kept talking with the others instead of Shay, why he suddenly wanted to win this competition so badly.

Jojo has some sort of secret involving Shay and absolutely everybody knows except for Shay himself. He assumes this is what Jacob meant when he offered to let him in on a secret at the beginning of the obstacle course. Gian had written about this hidden fact in his little book and Jagriwo is about to reveal it.

But what could it be? The only explanation Shay can fathom is him doing something unspeakable to Jojo, something unforgivable, something that would taint their friendship forever if he were aware of it. If he’d done something like that to Jojo, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, that much is true, he’d always feel like he’d owe him – and this, possibly, is the scenario they’ve worked to hard to avoid. Because it’d hang over the two of them like a sword of Damocles, no doubt.

And now that Shay knows this… is he ready to hear the truth?

“Don’t”, mutters Jojo, his voice a warning. His eyes are locked with Jagriwo’s.

“Or what?” He really savours the moment, ignoring all of Jojo’s body language (and he looks like a cornered animal, wild, hopeless) as he turns to Shay with a wide, shark-like smile. It feels like everyone’s holding their breath. Then he simply says: “Did you know your best friend wants to fuck you?”

The very first thought that enters Shay’s mind is one he remains convinced of for a solid second: that can’t be it. He believes it steadfastly until he turns his head and catches sight of the pure, unbridled horror on Jojo’s face, shame even more pronounced than on Gian’s a few moments earlier. No words are necessary, his expression shouts it louder than Jacob could – it’s true. It has to be, or else why would Jojo look like this, but… why is that such a big deal?

Jacob Griffin-Worthington is not satisfied yet. “He’s actually been in love with you for a while.”

Oh. Okay, well, that’s slightly different, yet Shay experiences nothing but all-encompassing relief: he didn’t do anything to Jojo. They’re still good. They can keep being friends, provided Jojo wants to, and, uh, well, this might be a problem, he realises much too late. Maybe Jojo doesn’t want to. Maybe he wants some space. And Shay has a girlfriend, he almost forgot about her, that’s complicating things even further, but -

All of a sudden, he notices everyone is staring at him. Everyone but the one who counts. “Right”, he says, still trying to process the consequences of this revelation, and then Jojo turns on his heel and walks away.

Gian is the one who stops him from following immediately, a steady hand on his arm and a slight shake of the head keeping him in place. “Allow him time to compose.”

Next to them, Valenti simply drops Ivanko’s clothes onto the promenade and tries to punch Jagriwo in the face, yet the lad saw it coming and blocked, and while a very one-sided fight breaks out (because of course, the others jump in to help Jacob) Shay only has eyes for the lone figure wandering by the canal, back turned and hands repeatedly coming up to probably wipe tears away, and all of this is wrong.

Being friends with Jojo has never been easy, he’d never call it an easy friendship like he would with someone like Whip maybe – it was never two mates hanging out, it was something more, and that something required effort. Shay had worked for Jojo’s friendship and still does his best to maintain it, he learnt how to apologise, how to compromise, how to listen. Jojo allowed him to grow by pointing out areas in which to improve, managed to do so without putting him on the spot and by taking him seriously. In return, he’d provided undying loyalty, an open ear with no judgement.

This isn’t something from which either of them can walk away. They need to work this out. And the longer his eyes are glued to the man he’s so incredibly lucky to know, the man walking much too close to the edge of the promenade, the one suddenly slipping on an icy patch and -

Shay’s fuck comes almost simultaneously to the large splash. He starts sprinting without wasting a single thought on it, clawing off his jacket mid-run, tossing his phone on it, dropping his shirt together with his wallet and keys, and next go the shoes (bloody hell the ground is frigid) – he doesn’t bother with the socks but the trousers need to go, and then he dives into what turns out to be much, much colder water than he’d anticipated.

He manages to keep his disbelieving gasp in until he’s breached the surface again, blinking against the cool air and trying to keep his body from locking up due to the shock. Next to him, Jojo lets out a litany of curses, half of which directed at him.

“- the fuck are you doing, you moron, there’s no fucking ladder, what did you think you’re gonna do?!”

Huh. The closest ladder is indeed a bit away and he’s already losing all feeling in his limbs. “I’m saving you”, he blurts out, stupidly, to which his best friend lets out an unamused-sounding laugh. Jesus fuck it’s cold, his feet are freezing and he’s having trouble staying above water.

“This”, Jojo pants, lips blue and eyes red, shivering just as violently as Shay is himself, “might be one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done, Shay, what did you think was going to happen? You give me a lift so I can climb the two metres back up?”

“We should probably move, we can’t get out here.”

“Oh really? I can’t swim, I can barely keep myself up, so what do you reckon -”

He’s interrupted by yet another splash next to them, icy water washing over them. The reproachful face appearing belongs to none other than Ivan Ivanovic, and Shay has never been gladder to see the Russian. “Hold on to me”, he tells them and they oblige without a single word of protest as he starts swimming to the nearest ladder, dragging two dead weights with him.

.

~*~

.

It’s only fitting that the day ends with them in front of Sledge’s office, as so many days prior. Shay, wrapped in a thick blanket and trying to will the frost out of his bones, listens to the muffled bollocking going on inside, and wonders whether they’ll get their share after the others are done. Köbi, Jojo and he were sent to Doc first while the rest of their groups had to explain to their superior what they’ve been up to all day, and now they don’t want to interrupt anything, so they’ve sat down on the bench outside. Except for Köbi, the winner of the last challenge, who was checked in with mild frostbite. There’s no doubt Ivanko would’ve won, but he came to Jojo’s and Shay’s rescue, opting to climb out and lose the challenge rather than wasting valuable seconds by swimming towards them instead of running.

So not only did Shay mess up his own contribution to the competition, he made them lose it all.

He barely dares to ask. “Jojo?”

“Hm?” His best friend has avoided any eye contact since their brief stint in the river, having chosen to treat Shay with nothing but silence. Now that they’re alone and perched next to each other, he seems more willing to exchange words though.

“I’m sorry we lost because of me. Did you actually want to win?”

This earns him an almost disgusted expression. “Of course not. Any minute I spend in Jagriwo’s presence is fucking wasted, he can fuck a cactus for all I care. His stupid little ego trip doesn’t matter.”

Oh. So he just really didn’t want Shay to find out. Find out… that he’s in love with him. The sentiment leaves him slightly giddy, as if someone Shay liked a lot told him that they like Shay back, only he can’t discern whether he feels flattered or confused or something else entirely. It’s a fluttery thing, similar to the beginning when he was flirting with Brittany (or trying to, at least) and couldn’t think about anything else.

Jojo fancies him. It’s… nice. It feels nice, knowing Jojo finds him attractive. That he likes him so much that he wants them to be more than friends.

And Shay -

He looks at Jojo who reminds him of a drowned rat, the usually styled hair wet and sticking to his skull, complexion blotchy, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Their shoulders are touching. Shay just can’t imagine a life without him.

“I’ll break up with Brittany”, he hears himself speak before the words have fully formed in his mind – as so often he does.

Jojo’s brows draw together. “What?”

“I can break up with her. It’s okay. Then we can -”

“Shay, what in the world are you saying?”

“I like you too.” Instantly, he’s self-conscious, scratching the back of his head, trying his hardest not to backpedal. “That’s… what I’m saying. I like you, Jojo. I’d rather be together with you.”

His best friend is staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide. “You’d just – you’d drop her. Right away. Right now.”

“Yeah. If you want.” Shay nods. He’s already cancelled for the evening, it’d be simple to end their relationship as well.

For a few heartbeats, Jojo doesn’t seem to know how to react and what he eventually does isn’t something Shay would’ve expected. He gets up, blanket still wrapped around him, and tells Shay: “Just don’t talk to me. Don’t.”

And once again, he leaves. Leaves Shay behind on the bench outside of Sledge’s office, wondering whether he’s done something wrong this time.

It’s not even a relief when Sledge shoos him away later instead of admonishing him, because Valenti won’t look at him and Gian carries himself like a close relative just died. Even Ivan Ivanovic just motions for him to walk.

Of everyone filing out of Sledge’s office, it’s only Anna who throws him a sympathetic glance.

[ciaossu-imagines]

hello, this is nix! i’ve read the self-shipping headcanons you did for me and shoichi, and all i could say is wow. i’m in awe. it’s amazing that you got most, if not all, spot-on! i enjoyed reading them and thought to myself, “this makes so much sense.” they’re long and specific, so it must’ve taken you time to write all of that 🥺 don’t worry about having repeated some things because it’s still worth the read. i know you put a great deal of effort into interpreting the descriptions i gave and writing those headcanons, and i really appreciate it. i had never put much thought into self-shipping with a fictional character before, that is until you matched me with sho-chan (and don’t worry, i can share him with you! haha).

i would also like to express my gratitude for the two personalization prompts you’ve done for me. honestly, i never expected that because i simply loved your works without anticipating anything in return. so, for you to do reader appreciation gestures warms my heart. your dedication to giving back to your readers is amazing. 💝

one thing, though—i was laughing when you mentioned my pfp because i’m not even a feline enthusiast, and i’m allergic to them. it’s just that i find the icon picture itself cute and funny, so it was hilarious that it’s how you had pictured me when you thought of me, haha. oh, and the sawako face claim works out as well because i do have jet black hair, except that i don’t have any bangs, and i prefer a short haircut (i only had to grow my hair out because my health degree program requires us to wear a chignon most of the time. ugh!)

for the personalization prompt #1, no need to worry because i’m familiar with servamp from watching the anime. however, i have yet to read the manga, so there are characters i still don’t know about. even if i’m not deeply invested in the series (because i’m more focused on other fandoms), i still enjoyed it and the personalized prompt you made as well. 💗🎀

Hey Nix! It’s so lovely to see you back in the inbox 😊 I’m so glad you enjoyed the self-ship headcanons. I honestly had a lot of fun writing them up – I’m a sucker for those kind of things honestly, so I’m glad that most of them hit the mark! It did take a fair amount of time, but it’s time well spent to me! I enjoy it and I like being able to do special little things like that for lovely readers like you. I wasn’t kidding – your support, all your likes and asks sent in mean a ton to me, as I am one of those bad writers who really do get a lot of their motivation from interaction with readers and feedback/knowing people are reading! I’m glad that the repetition I did notice didn’t bother you too much. It’s really such a compliment to learn that my little match-up made you consider self-shipping! It really is just a fun and sometimes therapeutic thing, but that’s coming from someone with so many self-ships hahaha! And thanks for the sharing – sharing is caring, after all lol!

Aww, thank you so much for saying that 😊 I know it wasn’t expected from any of the people I did it for, they were all meant to be little surprises for those who keep me happy and motivated to write! I really do appreciate all my gorgeous constant readers and do believe that every single one of you is an amazing person behind those screens and when I sit down at my altar at night for meditation, I send blessings out in the universe for each and every one of you <3 Hopefully that’s hitting its mark in at least some cases!

Okay, but I am laughing over here at the irony! It sucks you’re allergic to cats and I can see why you wouldn’t like them if they make you all sneezy and gross feeling but yeah, the icon picture is adorable! It just did not work out well for actually inserting you into a universe, something I do with any of the readers I start to recognize by name or favourite characters (it fleshes out the world’s just that much more when I write my little cheesy stuff for myself or imagine myself/my OC’s in the various ‘verses!) That’s so weird that your health degree program specifies a certain hairstyle and that’s really gender-biased, as I’m assuming they don’t make men have chignons! I hope you’ll get to have your hair back to how you prefer it when you finish your degree (with great success, as I know you will!). I really lucked out in that, even when I was doing my clinical work for my degree in the health field, it was only the standard – long hair pulled back and I had to get rid of my funky colored hair and have it only natural colors while in the program. Thankfully my current workplace is fine with whatever I want to do with my hair, as long as I don’t shed into the pill bottles. And I’m glad you were at least familiar with the universe, even if it’s not one you’re deeply invested in! I just honestly could see you in that universe so well, plus another couple universes but the fandoms for those are so, so small that I assume nobody knows them haha!

Anyway, thank you so, so much for sending this in to the ask box. I popped on tonight to really catch up on everything new that has come in and to add a bunch to my queue and this made me smile a lot and made my heart happy, so really appreciate it and you 😊

[literaila]

something

tasm peter parker x fem!reader 

summary: it’s not hard to step in through your window, and it’s not hard to meet peter’s eyes. different from before. 

series masterlist.

warnings: honetly, none. if you’ve read the other parts, you’re good. 

a/n: there was some wonderful ideas for this chapter from all of the frightened readers. unforunately, i’m not as evil as you, so. 

*

"what're you doing here?" 

a blue and red suit blinds your eyes, streetlights reflecting on to you.  

when you turn around to see him--him, the one person you've been waiting to see for days--you're almost shocked by the wide white eyes. 

as if the brown that had replaced them for such a little amount of time had stolen every other memory from your mind. as if you'd forgotten what it was like to stand here with him like this. 

quietly. 

peter stands with his hands out, his movements slow. 

a part of you doesn't understand why you're here. doesn't understand what you're doing. 

but something about his voice, something about the mask, something about your heart. 

it makes you smile, just enough to hopefully put him at ease. 

"you didn't answer your phone," you say, carefully enough, taking a step closer to him. you try not to think about the person that's waiting there for you, and instead, push yourself forward by the force pulling you back. 

you're not really afraid of him. 

"it's late," peter tells you, stepping away from you, slowly, slightly. you can't see his eyes, but you can hear his voice now, soft, pleading. 

there is tension in the air. a gentle force of attraction between the two of you. unreleased anger, floating through the air. 

unspoken words dance between the two of you as bright as light. only slightly distracting. 

you draw a tight-lipped smile, sighing softly. "my sleep schedule is messed up." you don't bother to mention why. you're sure that he knows. 

you step forward again, unwilling to let this go, now. 

you feel that pull right in your stomach, telling you to turn around. 

but you don't want him to leave again. 

you miss his smile, his words, his voice. 

you miss the courage he seems to draw out of you, you miss your resilience once so strong. 

you refuse to stop fighting back now when you've almost won this inner battle. 

you haven't seen his eyes in a week. haven't heard his voice. 

"i broke my phone," he tells you. 

"broke it?" 

he shakes his head and sighs. you see the weight on his shoulders. you can feel him trying to move away, trying deliberately not to understand. 

he's uncomfortable. maybe cold. 

"peter," you whisper, taking another step forward, trying to find some way to make this any less awkward. 

it's strange to say his name this way. 

you wonder if he can hear your voice yelling at him. wonder if he feels the guilt as vehemently as you do. you wonder if he's mad, if he's upset, if he's just happy to see you. 

his hands are tense as he looks around, staring at the stagnant streets, the silent lamposts. he's listening to the silence, trying to make sense out of all of it. 

his hands are rigid, unfamiliar as he reaches up and pulls his mask off, revealing his eyes to you for the first time in a week. 

it's a gesture, some part of you recognizes. 

you're almost shocked, shaking your head to acclimate yourself to his brown eyes, so much closer to yours than you'd imagined. 

you try to smile, try to breathe around him. 

you're not sure if it works. 

you speak again, anyway. "you broke your phone?" you repeat, asking for clarification, asking him to ease into this, asking him for more. 

you're talking to him, now.

let me know, he said, and this, this is your answer. 

"i was mad," he tells you, in a whisper. "i don't really think you want to know." 

"mad?" you wonder. "at me?" 

peter tries to smile, you can see the effort plain on his face. "at me." 

your eyes soften. your heart stills. 

the guilt pounds against your ribcage, a gentle voice, calling you back. telling you not to go any further. 

you don't feel like listening. 

you smile at him, trying to offer something. but ultimately, you draw a blank, only letting the silence fill the lack of words. 

you don't know how to say all you want to say. 

so peter steps back, offering a hand to you. "can i take you home?" he asks, voice void of any joking, any emotion you're familiar with. "you look cold." 

you recognize this. this situation, this person. you remember before when you were hesitant around him. when something about a masked stranger was scarier than freezing in the middle of the night. 

you laugh at your naivety and nod at peter, you've done this before. 

you're about to take his hand but he draws it back first, careful eyes as he watches you. like he's sure that this is a trick, like this is some cruel joke he's playing on you.

you shake your head, asking him the question without the words. 

he lifts his mask. "do you mind if i put it back on?" his breath is cold in the air. he tries to smile again. "anonymous superhero thing." 

you think it's a joke, but you can't quite tell. something about his face.

 "of course," you answer, wondering why you could say no to that in the first place. 

he nods and slips it's over his eyes, ruining your read on him. 

and then he grabs your waist, sharing his warmth with you effortlessly, perfectly, ruining the silence between the two of you with the shrill sound of his heartbeat. 

you're unused to this. the feeling around him. the apprehension in his eyes. 

you realize now that you had gotten so familiar with being angry at peter--and yourself--that it wasn't hard a weak ago. 

but you never got the chance to forgive him, before. 

it only takes a minute to get to your window. it's only a minute of wind in your ear, tension in your eyes. peter holds you close, tight. 

it's different now that you know that it's him. 

you'd observed the web-slingers on both wrists. thinking of the one in the corner of your room, broken. 

peter lets out a breath of air as soon as you both get into the room. his heartbeat right against yours disappears as he lets you go, sets you down, releases you into the gentle warmth of your own room. 

he's shivering as he puts down and pulls his mask off with a heavy movement of his chest, deep, scorning. 

as if he was holding his breath that entire time. 

you watch him, trying to relax your eyes as much as they'll allow, waiting for him to look back at you. 

and as soon as he does you feel that familiar apprehension crawling up your throat. 

you've only done this once before. you've only thought this through a million times. and it doesn't feel like enough. 

you don't feel ready, even though you were. that you are. 

you let the feeling fill your mouth, smiling at peter. 

he doesn't smile back. his haunted eyes wait, subtle, for you to speak. he doesn't make any motion to move. he doesn't allow you a moment to figure out what he's thinking. 

you clear your throat. "did you have three?" you gesture down to his wrist. "or did you make another?"

peter follows your gaze, looking shocked to see it on his wrists. 

he looks back up. "uh, i made it. i assumed you wouldn't want me coming back to get the other one..." his voice, rough, draws off, eyes finally observing the room again. 

you wonder if it feels strange for him to be here. if he's angry at you. if he doesn't want to talk to you, despite what he said, and that's why he's acting so strange. 

you wonder if you can tell him, if the words will even come out of your throat. maybe you should've practiced that earlier, before you went running off to look for him. 

peter, who seems so still. 

you have no idea what to say next. 

"i broke it," you get out, voice guilty, following peter's gaze to the pieces on the floor. 

he raises an eyebrow, looking back at you. 

"i was angry," you nod your head at him, repeating his words and letting your lips quirk up in a gentle tease. 

peter smiles but it's not a kind one. "at me?" he asks, already seeming to know the answer. he takes a step away from you, head shaking slightly. 

you pause, avoiding his eyes for a moment. and then you look at him, surprised to see the familiar soft brown. maybe surprised that he's there again. "at you," you confirm, watching for his reaction. 

he winces, but it's a small movement on his plane of uncertainty. then he allows his eyes to go blank while looking at you. 

you stare at each other for a moment. 

"you were waiting for me?" he asks, quietly. he's got fists clenched down at his sides. he's got a multitude of illusions. he's got your fear in his hands, unknowingly. 

you wait for it to drop. 

he stares at you as if he's sure that whatever he's thinking is wrong. as if you're going to kick him out right this second. 

you nod. "i tried texting you, but..." you smile up at him, knowingly. you smile, but you're sure that it looks more like a scream. "i wanted to ask you something." 

i wanted to tell you something, you don't correct. 

peter shakes his head, eyes clear. "okay," he says, waiting.

the wheels begin to turn, a subtle clicking as you look at him. 

you know you're ready, to tell him. 

"how many people have you told, besides me and gwen?" 

peter's eyes widen, he moves forward. "i didn't-" 

"she was asking me about you the other day. where you'd been. those sort of things." you keep your face clear, same as his eyes, trying not to scare him away. "she knows, i know." 

you've got this feeling, deep in your chest, begging to be let out. 

peter scoffs a little bit, shaking his head. "no one else," he says, voice a bit confused. 

you nod. 

you look away from him. you could just say it. you could just tell him. 

but that feels like a step too far, it feels like a voice calling you back. it feels like looking at a stranger, now, looking at peter with strange eyes. 

you keep your gaze to the floor. "she said something else," you say, only slightly softer. 

you don't see peter look up, or nod. you don't see his shaking eyes, his patient mouth. you don't hear his silent pleading because you're not looking at him. 

and while you're not looking at him, he can throw composure away. 

you might've recognized it. his formality, distance, politeness. 

your mouth curls. your voice feels feeble, your mind feels stagnant. "she said that you love me." 

it's not a confession, it does not require an answer. 

peter's head tilts, he stares at you. 

"you don't need to confirm that, or anything," you smile at him, finally looking up because you're sure he won't react to that. "but, peter, i want to talk about last week. i want to try to understand," you breathe in. 

"what?" peter asks, softly. his eyes are confused, his mind seems to be spiraling. 

"i'm not ready," you keep your eyes on his, keep them stern. "i'm not ready to forgive you yet. i can't-" you shake your head.. "not yet." 

peter's hands seem to reach out, they seem to ask for more. "you shouldn't, y/n, i don't expect, i don't-" he shakes his head, his face a copy of your. "i don't want to you to. i'm so sorry, i was-" 

you're watching him and you seem to have misunderstood, or he has. you're watching his eyes, surprised at the feeling building in your chest. 

peter seems to sense something, he seems to know. he pauses his words and looks at you. 

"what?" he asks. "what?" his voice, desperate, his eyes trying to understand yours. 

"i love you," you say, and his once rapid eyes, his once thundering heart, his once bright laugh--go completely still. 

a voice begs you to turn back. 

he pauses, shaking his head. his movements go mechanical, robotic, a perfect image in front of you. 

"no," he says, breaking his pause, breaking the reaction. "you don't have to say that just because gwen told you-" 

you sigh and look away from him. "i was angry at you. so angry," a bitter laugh comes from your mouth, a memory of the anger in your chest. "i was hurt that you lied. i was angry because you were trying to make it up to me--something you did--by lying. and because you seemed so sure about it." 

peter is shaking his head. his eyes are telling you to stop, his voice is begging you to turn around, he's trying to stop you from continuing, but you don't.

the fear has dissipated, the wonder, the amusement, the resilience that you craved before, it returns in a steady flow of emotions. 

"and before that, i wanted nothing more than for you to come back, peter. i just wanted your attention, your friendship, again. it was terrifying when i realized you were there the whole time, and i just couldn't see it. 

"i felt stupid, ridiculous for being angry with you, but mostly..." you pause, looking up at him. feeling remorse for his sad eyes, feeling remorse from the time away from him, from the memories running through your mind. you feel a strong guilt, for everything you've lost together. "i just missed you. i missed you and i hated that you were gone just because you were trying to protect me." 

peter is frozen, buckling under the weight of your words, under the guilt in his chest. he's falling, he feels like he's falling, and there's nothing there to catch him. 

but your smile. 

"i don't understand it, what you did." you sigh, finally looking back up at him, finally seeming to take in his pleading. "but i don't want to feel that way--ridiculous or hurt, anymore." 

but peter's eyes are shut, his balance is off. 

"i don't know what you want, y/n, i can't-" he's desperate, his voice getting louder. "i don't know how to fix this. i don't think i can." shaking his head, he's pulling away from you. 

he's unconvinced. he's a liar. he's wrong. 

and so, with conviction you can barely feel, you move forward, you try and reach for his hand, for his warmth. 

you feel lost, drowning in the darkness, in his guilt, in yours. 

you feel frozen, drifting, melting. 

"peter," you whisper to him, voice so quiet, so different. filled with an emotion you almost didn't realize you had. 

it's just enough to get him to look up. 

"i don't want you to fix this," you shake your head, unable to smile, unable to mend the things that are broken. "i just don't want you to leave again." 

peter leans in more, trying to hear you more clearly, trying to understand. he seems to be picking up the pieces. 

he can see you, but you're not there. 

he can feel you, but this all feels fake. 

"i love you," you whisper again, words feeling more right now, more real. "peter," you say. 

and it's enough for him, it's enough, it's enough. 

it's enough forgiveness, it's enough guilt, it's enough with monsters and with hollow feelings in the pits of your chest. 

it's enough love, enough courage, enough restlessness. 

he pulls you into his arms. he grabs you within an instant and wraps himself around you. 

he releases the guilt, the anger, he drops the mask on the floor, no longer needing it, and he cradles your head in his hands. 

he can feel you, he can see you. 

he thinks of everything, everything he's done, all the mistakes, all the lies. he thinks of all the broken things on the floor, he thinks of falling, he thinks of drowning. 

he has no idea how he got here, why you're still in his arms. 

he can't let go. 

you're clutching onto him, holding him again, just like that first day back at school. just like that first act of desperation. 

it feels different now, it feels stronger. a realization shooting both of you in the heart. 

its a plesurable type of pain. 

peter pulls back just enough to look at your face, still cradling your head, still holding you as hard as he can. 

"i'm so sorry," he says one last time, his face just enough to show you how much he means it. "however long it takes," he says, he promises, he swears he will. "i'll make it up to you." 

you nod, and smile at him, bringing your hand up to grab the wrist of the hand holding your head. 

it's the right type of smile, the genuine kind that peter thought he might never see again. 

his hand moves, holding your cheek instead, pulling you closer to him, feeling you beneath his fingertips. 

"i love you," he says. 

and it hurts more, coming from his lips. it's stronger now when you can see his eyes, when you can feel his skin, on top of yours, his skin so violently hot, so fresh against your face. 

it hurts to hear, it feels so wrong. 

and so perfect. such sweet words. such beautiful realities. 

you almost laugh, you almost try to wake yourself up. 

but you don't, instead, you stare at him, observing his eyes for the first time this close. 

you never got the chance to do this, before. 

and that's the only reason you draw him in closer, the only reason you lean in, moving your hand so that it's pulling his face down. 

just so he can meet you halfway. 

and this time, kissing peter, the friend you've always known. 

the person so familiar, so unmasked, so wrong. 

this time, nothing clicks into place. 

nothing changes, nothing has ever felt quite so much like throwing everything away. 

you can hear a voice in your head, telling you to turn around, telling you that you're making the wrong choice. 

and still, you pull him in. deepening the kiss. 

something about your heart doesn't care. 

*

don’t worry. there’ll be an epilouge. 

my masterlist here. 

[hyperfixations-and-hecticness]

Hihi! since you're doing an event i figured I'd send in a request for a fic idea thats been brewing im my mind forever. levi (from obey me) with an isekai reader, specifically the reader is a datable from an otome game similar to obey me that only levi knows about. how will he react to meeting one of his biggest fictional crushes? and then to find out hes their fictional crush too?? (sorry if it doesn't make sense)

Isekai AU - Levi

His brothers did not get the appeal of otome games. But for Levi, they were amazing. In the games, he was smooth. He used the in-game lines and had characters falling for him left and right. More people loved him in-game than loved Asmo IRL! Especially in his favourite game, Heed Me! But his favourite in-game character was you. You, unlike all the other dateable characters, weren’t a total normie. You invited his character to watch shows and play games and made references to non-copyrighted spoofs of stuff that he always understood. He was in love. And best of all, you liked him back. Urgh, and when you got jealous of the other dateables for spending time with him? It was weirdly attractive seeing you indulge in his sin. But, in typical otaku fashion, you were just his 2D crush.

You also loved otome games. Specifically Obey Me. It was just so fun, seeing demon brothers and literal princes of Hell fall for you to the point you were practically running a shadow government. But your favourite was the nerd who’d blush whenever you went near him. He may call you a ‘normie’ more than he called you by your name, but he was still adorable. You wouldn’t even mind sleeping in a bathtub with him! Even though you did not understand how his back survived that every night. It was probably the Ruri-chan body pillow. Sadly, however, the game was only that. A game. You couldn’t win the heart of a blue-haired otaku outside of the pre-written lines that made him swoon.

Until, of course, you woke up one day in a council room with some random redhead telling you you were in the Devildom. And after a lot of expletives, and a serious mental breakdown when you wondered if you were going insane, you’d almost gotten into the swing of things. Except for the fact that it was surprisingly difficult to talk to your now concerningly 3D crush. Why was he avoiding you so badly, dang it? The script says he’s meant to fall for you. He didn’t even challenge you to the TSL quiz. Which was especially hurtful considering you’d binged the series since arriving here and were now fandom-fluent in it. Though, to be fair, it was probably for the best that you hadn’t talked to him too much yet. There’s no easy way to approach a man you’ve read fan-fiction about.

Of course, little did you know that Levi was having the exact same issue. What in Diavolo’s name were you doing here? And, more importantly, why were you 3D?! He could barely even look at you without turning bright pink and running in the opposite direction, much to the amusement of his brothers. But what was really worrying was that you seemed to be making an active effort to try and talk to him. After a very long time spent gathering his courage, he decided to approach you. Maybe you just looked like the character from his game, after all. Maybe the only reason you’d been seeking him out is because you wanted to borrow one of his DVDs. Yeah, that was probably it. There was no way you were a self aware otome character come to life to mock him for being in love with a fictional character. Hopefully. He really hoped being isekai’d into his world wouldn’t allow you access to his browser history. He did not want you reading the fan fictions he’d read and/or written.

“Hi, MC!” He said, waving you into his room. Oh no. He knew.

“Hey, Levi. It’s nice to meet you.” Diavolo this was awkward. “Oh, is that Henry?” You had always wanted to meet Henry.

“How did you know his name?” Asked Levi, paling. He’d mentioned having a pet in the game, able to type in the name of his pet. You couldn’t really be that MC? But there was no other explanation! There’s no way his idiot brothers would waste time with you talking about HIM. You were panicking.

“You mentioned it before.”

“Nice try! I don’t talk to people.” He spluttered. “You’re from Heed Me!”

“Whaddya mean? What’s Heed Me!? You’re from Obey Me!”

“Wait... you don’t know what Heed Me is? It’s a - uh - a video game. An otome game.”

“What?! I’m not from an otome game, YOU’RE from an otome game!” What?! He wasn’t -

It took a solid hour of explanations, halfway through which you happened to spot one of his posters of you that he’d forgotten to hide. Man, the 2D you was hot. Apparently Levi had a crush on your character, who was a streamer in an otome game called Heed Me about a demon summoned to Hollywood who lives with a group of celebrities in various industries. It was nice to know that in at least one universe you were famous.

“One final question. How popular is my character?”

An- I hope you liked this. I got a bit carried away with the buildup lol. Reminder that requests are open (I also have an event on) and comments are appreciated 💛

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[lawngnomeofdoom]

Part Three: when I'm near you

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Connor struggles with his new feelings brought upon by Y/N and Hank delicately advises him on the situation.

Warnings: A smidge bit of smut toward the end ;)

A/N: Again I cannot thank people enough for reading and sharing this fic, I'm really glad you all seem to like it! I plan to continue this series for a while so I hope you're into that! Thanks again I hope you have a beautiful day!

The morning after you had investigated the senator’s home was a quiet one. You said hello to Connor when you came in just like you had been doing for the last week, on some days he had even been waiting for you with a cup of coffee and an eager smile. But that morning he avoided your eyes and did not even acknowledge your “hello”, instead his eyes stayed glued to his desk terminal. It hurt more than you would admit, flirting with Connor wasn’t something you took all that seriously, it was just fun to watch the cute little guy blush and get flustered. That was until last night when he whispered in your ear and stirred something inside you, something that excited and scared you, and by the lack of eye contact he gave, you suspected it scared him too. Hank observed you two with a scrutinizing eye, finally whistling to get Connor’s attention when you had left your desk to use the bathroom.

“Lieutenant?”

“What’s the deal? You’ve been following Y/N around all week like a lost puppy, something I’ll admit I’m not exactly crazy about but anyway, what’s with the cold shoulder?” Hank asked. Connor poked his tongue to the side of his cheek with a thoughtful expression across his face.

“I...I am simply focusing on my task at hand. I’ve no room for distractions.” He replied.

“Oh, is she distracting?” Hank probed on. Connor clenched his fist and sighed.

“Alarmingly, yes.” He admitted finally.

“I don’t know why it is that I feel this way, whatever “way” this is. I’ve only known Y/N for a short time but I feel…well that’s the trouble, I don’t know, I’ve got no instructions no programming for this sort of thing.” Connor finished sounding exhausted. Hank looked over his shoulder to ensure you hadn’t yet returned from the bathroom then leaned in to speak softly to Connor.

“Listen, if it makes you feel any better, us humans don’t get any instructions for all this emotional crap either, you just kinda gotta figure it out. I know that’s not easy because you can’t exactly go through puberty, can you? Never mind I don’t want to know. Point is, if I were you I’d go talk to that Markus guy, he seems like he might have some sage advice on something like this.” Hank suggested and Connor nodded thoughtfully.

“That sounds like a productive course of action.” He agreed.

“Oh and Connor, come here…” Hank said signaling him to come closer over their desks. As Connor did Hank roughly grabbed him by the collar and stared deep into his eyes.

“Y/N is like a daughter to me. You hurt her feelings this morning and I highly advise you to rectify that or else.” He ordered and released him. Connor nodded anxiously and straightened his now crooked tie.

“I will go get her a cup of coffee.” He said quickly.

“Yeah, you go do that,” Hank smirked. Connor rose from his desk and entered the break room; he diligently chose a mug with the least amount of stain and chips in it and prepared a cup of coffee just the way he had noticed you like it. Just as he was headed out the door Reed stopped him and pushed him back into the break room.

“Fetching Y/N a cup of coffee like a good little lap dog huh?” He spat. Connor tried to bypass the detective but found himself pushed back again, two other officers stood in the corner but didn’t react to the confrontation, after all, they never did.

“I don’t hold any animosity toward you detective, I simply wish to coexist with you as coworkers.” Connor said with a forced smile.

“Right. “Coworkers”. Bullshit. First, you walking tin cans take our jobs and now, you’re really after our women?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying detective.” Connor said narrowing his gaze.

“I’m sure you don’t. This is a friendly warning; you can’t steal Y/N.” He said standing now almost nose to nose with Connor.

“How could I steal her from you detective? You’ve never had her to begin with.” Connor replied flatly. Reed’s eyes glared in anger and he delivered a swift gut punch to him, Connor held his abdomen with a clenched fist. His mind had already worked out 15 different ways to take down Reed, but he steadied himself. Markus had made a lot of progress, but many would still see Connor’s self-defense as anything but, and he had no intention of undermining his friend’s hard work. He prepared himself as Reed drew his arm back again for another strike but watched with shock as he collapsed to the ground. You stood behind him, having just given him a swift kick to the back of his legs, and then delivered a few more kicks to his groin. He reeled on the ground, moaning in tremendous pain.

“He may not hit you back, but I do. Get off the floor detective they just cleaned that.” You say and step over Reed’s body to face Connor.

“Are you alright?” You ask with sympathetic eyes. Connor’s eyes darted between Reed and you for a moment before he found any words.

“I made you coffee.” He said and meekly held up the mug. You chuckle softly and take the mug from him.

“Thank you, Connor. Can we talk?” You ask and he nods. Connor holds out his hand and helps you step over Reed’s body again out into the hall. You walk to your desk together, Connor notices your reserved body language, the way you hold the mug with both hands, and point your feet away from him but he knows it's similar to how he treated you this morning. You lean against his desk, Hank isn’t at his which is a relief to you, it makes this conversation slightly less awkward.

“I just wanted to make sure we were okay? I just feel like I may have upset you in some way last night and that wasn’t my intention.” You say, unsure in your wording.

“No!” Connor almost yells and slightly startles you.

“Yeah, that’s convincing.” You reply sipping the coffee.

“No, I mean you haven’t upset me Y/N. I was dealing with internal issues. I was going to apologize for making you uncomfortable with what I said last night.”

“Oh. Don’t worry, it didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was just surprising is all. I didn’t realize you had that kind of thing in you.” You reply looking into his eyes, but you notice his LED flashing in your peripheral.

“I didn’t realize it either. But I’m glad to hear I haven’t made you too upset with me.”

“Well I wasn’t sure if I could forgive you for the silent treatment this morning but you’re lucky this coffee is good.” You reply with a light smile.

“So the situation is remedied?” He asked hopefully.

“Definitely. We’re friends Connor.” You reply with a grin.

“Friends.” Connor repeated happily. Of course, he thought, he had no need to see Markus to discuss these “feelings.” You were nothing more than good friends and Connor could accept that.

Or at least he thought he could.

“Oh is that a picture of Sumo?” You ask and stretch over Connor’s desk to grab the photo. Now with your back arched over his desk he can’t seem to stop himself from imagining his hands gripping your hips and holding you in place, pinning his body over yours and tangling his hand in your hair as he penetrates you, and the vibration of your moans against his skin. It became important to him at that moment to know what it would sound like for you to say his name with longing and pleasure and desire. It flooded all of his senses.

“Connor?”

“Hm? Oh yes, I like dogs.” Connor says quickly.

“Mmm me too.” You reply admiring the photo of Sumo.

“Okay, maybe I should go talk to Markus.” Connor thought.

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Meant To Be (iii)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: After meeting Garcia you make quick work of helping with the case, desperate to prove yourself to Hotch. Once the two of you help the team wrap everything up it’s time for them to return home. Which also means it’s time for you and Hotch to talk. One on one.

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.

Word Count: 5,288

A/N: I wanna say I’m super happy you guys are enjoying this series cause honestly I’m having a lot of fun writing it! I love you all dearly. (If you’re just now finding this series, that’s perfectly alright! I’m glad you’re here! Feel free to catch up and enjoy the rest of the story. Here’s a link to Part 1 and Part 2 of Meant To Be.)

The elevator ride to the bottom floor of the building was quick, allowing you to make your way to Garcia’s office in a matter of minutes. There was a plaque up next to the door, indicating that you were in the right place. Taking a moment to steady yourself you exhale before knocking on the door. A voice on the other side tells you to come in so you do. Around you are dozens of impressive looking monitors, all of which are doing something different. On top of the long L-shaped desk there were several small trinkets and toys, bringing a sort of life into the dark room. The woman sitting in front of you spins around in her chair to look at you, a quick flash of confusion on her face. She looks extremely kind and everything about her appearance makes you want to smile. 

“Hello. My name is Y/N L/N. Are you Penelope Garcia?” 

“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?” Once you’re sure you’re in the right place you step forward to shake her hand. She stands so that you are both on the same level now, shifting awkwardly. 

“Sorry to barge in like this. Everything has gone pretty fast this morning. I’m a new agent for the BAU. Today is my first day. The rest of the team just left on a case and SSA Hotchner asked me to stay behind and help from here.” Her face lights up with a bright smile.

“Oh, that’s awesome! It’s really nice to meet you! Please come in, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” With this, she pulls another chair up to the desk and then sits back down in her own. “I didn’t actually know we had any new agents joining us. That being said, welcome! I’m almost always here by myself so the company will be nice. You and I can get to know each other.” You nod with a smile, watching her as she continues what she was doing. There are several different tabs open across the screens with loads of information that she seems to be compiling. When she sees your incredulous face she laughs.

“I know, it’s a lot. I’m just trying to get as much preliminary information as I can to send to the team. That’s what you’ll be helping me with. We collect research, data, important records. Anything they need to find out, we provide. Kind of cool, right?” Remaining silent, you nod. Upon seeing this, Garcia stops typing for a moment. “I know it may not seem as exciting as field work but it’s still very important. Don’t worry, I’ll make it fun. I promise you won’t be bored.” Patting your knee, she continues typing and you watch carefully now. This is where you will be until the case is over so you intend to make the absolute best of it. Everyone on the team has their own special skills and now is the time to learn from Garcia. 

“So what exactly are you looking for right now?” 

“I am compiling a list of the victim’s friends and family, plus witnesses from the robberies who might be able to give us any information. This will give the others a clear list of where to go first. I’m also seeing what I can find about the people who were at the banks on the days of the robberies in case there’s anything useful they need to know. Financial troubles, criminal records, anything to possibly link the witnesses to one another.” Scooting your chair forward so you can see better, you lean an elbow on the desk. 

“What can I help with?” You ask hopefully. 

“Oh, I think that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t even count on one hand how many times I’ve had someone down here and all they do is sit and look over my shoulder. Sorry, rambling. I can get you logged into a monitor here and it looks like the next thing on my list was looking into the victim’s workplace. Sound good?” 

“Yes, absolutely.” She moves over quickly and gets a separate monitor opened so you can begin researching. 

“We’ll probably do what research we can in the next twenty to thirty minutes and then we’ll call the team to tell them what we’ve found out.” With that, you make quick work of doing everything you can in the time you have. Even if it is the last thing you ever do, you will prove to Aaron Hotchner just how valuable a team member you are. 

++++++++++

The jet takes off fairly soon once the team is onboard. They all stow their go-bags and begin settling in for the flight. It is going to be a longer one today so they are all preparing themselves for the journey. Aaron finds a seat near a far window where he sets the case file down in front of himself and begins reading. His mind is swimming with thoughts and he will do anything to quiet them. The scene plays out over and over in his head, the memory still painfully fresh. Why had he said those things? He was unnecessarily harsh and he is fully aware of this. Now the first memory you’ll have of starting your dream job will be your new boss treating you appallingly. What had even compelled him to speak to you that way? Seeing you had overwhelmed him. The way you looked when you came into his office for the first time. The way your hair framed your face, the light hopefulness in your eyes, the way you captivated him with your movements. Standing there, just feet away from him, you had looked just as beautiful as the first day he met you. God, why did he lie like that? How could he have said he didn’t recognize you when you had stayed in his thoughts more times than he would like to admit over the past year? All the emotions he felt at the mere thought of you made him nauseous and he had no way of understanding them. As badly as he felt for it, he knew that for the time being it would be best to let you work from the BAU headquarters. 

“Hotch, are you okay?” JJ’s voice brings him quickly back to reality. The fact that she could see how deeply in thought he was makes him feel an odd sense of shame and he straightens in his seat. 

“Of course, I’m fine.” With this, she goes back to her own seat. With a huff of exhaustion, Hotch continues reading. The cabin is silent for a time as the other team members sit reading their case files. 

“So,” Morgan’s voice breaks the quiet. “What do we think of Y/N?” The mention of your name causes Hotch to perk up against his will. 

“Well, I like her.” Emily is the first to chime in. “I know you guys all got to meet her before me but there’s just something about her. An inherent sweetness. I’m really excited to work with her.” 

“Me, too,” JJ says next. “I thought she was kind and open. In this job, that kind of personality is hard to find. I just hope the things she sees doesn’t cause her to lose that. The world needs more kind people, not less. She seems tough though. I think she can handle it.” 

“I totally agree,” Morgan adds, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “She’s got a little bit of fierceness in her but I like that. You’ve gotta be tough to do this job but she’s also sweet. That’s important too. Plus, that kid’s got the cutest smile. Kind of reminds me of my sisters.” At the mention of your smile, Hotch closes his eyes briefly trying to picture that smile directed at him. He quickly catches himself and looks back down at the file. 

“Well, I can’t say I know her that well yet but she seems intelligent. She certainly has eagerness to learn. I think that will help her be successful. It’s very ... refreshing.” Spencer says with a small smile.

“I agree. Right off the bat she’s got a very likable energy,” Rossi begins letting himself trail off for a moment. “Although, I have to say there is something about her that is so familiar. I can’t quite place how I might know her though. Her name too, I recognize it. For a second I thought she recognized me too but I can’t be sure.” The rest of the team watches him for a moment as he tries to recollect how he knows you but he quickly comes up blank. “I’m sure I’ll think of it eventually. Nevertheless she seems like a good kid. I’m excited to see her at work. Just a shame we’ll all have to wait.” 

Hearing this Aaron shifts in his seat, knowing that the comment is directed at him since he was the one that made you stay behind. He is suddenly very aware of the other team members looking at him. 

“Yeah, Hotch. Why isn’t she here? I thought for sure you’d wanna see what she can do.” Derek locks eyes with Aaron, causing him to debate how to answer the question. All his life Hotch has worked to control his feelings and the way that they manifest so his face remains expressionless as he thinks for a short second.

“I think that for right now her time would be better spent helping Garcia and getting used to her new environment. I agree that she does seem very intelligent and more than capable. I would just like to speak with her one on one first before thrusting her into the high intensity atmosphere that comes with our line of work.” However, this answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Morgan’s curiosity. 

“She told me when she came out of your office that you said you didn’t remember her. Is that true?” This continued line of questioning makes his blood begin to boil. Aaron Hotchner of all people knows that lies are what cause the foundations of trust to crumble. If he can’t be honest with himself, how can he expect to be honest with his team? And yet, he finds himself unable to expose his own misdeed. 

“Yes, that is correct. We’ve had a lot of cases come and go in the last few years and no one should be expected to remember every interaction they have in that length of time. According to her it was only one day and it was a long time ago at that. I apologized to her and she understood. That is the end of it.” 

“Look, I’m not passing judgement Hotch. I’m just saying I can understand why she was so hurt,” Hearing this causes his heart to clench. “She looks up to you. She didn’t even have to tell me that, I could just see it. You mentored her in a time that was very uncertain, when she had a lot to prove. She still has a lot to prove and I’m sure she thought that you would have her back and the first thing you tell her is that you don’t even remember who she is? I get it man, you’re under a lot of stress right now but she’s a part of your team. I just thought you of all people would be a little more sensitive than that.” 

His words cut right through Aaron’s heart like a knife but before he has a chance to say anything the laptop screen in the center of the cabin lights up, revealing you and Garcia. Glad for a break from the tension the rest of the team members look toward the screen. With one last glance at Morgan, Hotch leans towards him. “We will discuss this later.” His voice is firm and dangerous but he pulls away to look at the laptop. “What did you find?” He directs at the two of you.

Seeing him causes you to straighten in your seat as you ready yourself to put on your most professional face. Garcia begins telling everyone what she was able to find out about the victim. She has significantly more information than you do but once she’s done she allows you to share what you found. The victim worked at a local grocery store but he had been previously employed at the bank where the robbery took place. The team begin building a rough profile based on the information. You listen closely to their analysis of the unsubs, making mental notes on what you might add to the profile. Before you have a chance to add anything, Hotch thanks the two of you for your work and hangs up. For a moment, you could swear you saw a hint of sadness when he looked at you but you were sure it was just a glitch on the screen. 

“Sorry sweetpea. I could totally tell you wanted to add something. They can be pretty abrupt like that sometimes.” You simply give a small shrug. “Well, why don’t you tell me what it was? It’ll give you a little practice for building profiles.” She scoots to the edge of her chair, looking at you intently to which you give a small laugh.

“Well, as we know all of the unsubs are large burly men. The five of them could easily subdue the few weaker people that were present at each of the robberies and yet they chose to bring guns. I believe this shows that they feel a certain sense of inadequacy in their everyday lives. Despite their masculine appearance I would suspect they all have mediocre jobs where they are looked down upon or treated poorly. It’s possible that they all work at the same place but I would imagine they probably met somewhere else. Maybe a support group of some sort. The use of weapons gives them a sense of power over the victims that helps them live out their mass fantasy. The victim of the last crime scene was shot in the head which indicates some personal relationship between him and the unsub who pulled the trigger. That could be a good place to start.” 

“Well, it definitely makes sense to me. Maybe we can start looking in to possible support groups for these type of men. Oh, and anyone that might possibly have had reason to kill our victim.” Garcia immediately begins typing and you scoot closer to her side. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for the order from Hotch?” She laughs at this. 

“Trust me, sweetheart. At the end of the day he’s gonna thank us for the head start. One thing to know about the boss man. He likes to see initiative but he also wants you to follow his exact orders. It’s a fine balance but once you figure out how to work the line, he’s gonna love you for it.” The thought of Hotch loving you for anything at all in the world makes your heart flutter. Almost instantly you stop that train of thought and berate yourself for even entertaining it. 

“Well, I guess we better get started then.” The rest of the day goes smoothly. You and Garcia coordinate everything beautifully, finding a good amount of information that you save to send to Hotch at the most convenient time. The day seems to be over almost as quickly as it began and you thank Garcia before heading out to your car. The drive home seems to be much more monotonous than before. It seems like you’re back inside your apartment and stretched out on the couch before you can hardly blink. Rolling over, you reach for your phone which you had thrown on the coffee table. With a groan, you begin dialing your sister’s number. As much as today sucked there was no one in the world you’d rather vent to than your sister. 

“Well hey there babe. I’ve been patiently awaiting your call. Give me just a minute to get sat down. I want to hear every last detail.” There are sounds of shuffling on the other side of the phone as she finds a seat. “Okay, I’m all good. Now, tell me about your first day at the BAU! Was it everything you dreamed it would be?” 

“Yeah, not exactly,” You laugh. “It was kind of rough to be honest.” There is a moment of silence as you think how to begin.

“Okay. Start at the beginning, walk me through it.” 

“Alright. Well, I got inside and I was honestly just in awe of being there, just getting to stand in that room. It felt like I was invincible. Derek Morgan was the first one to talk to me. He was just as charming as I remembered. Anyway, he introduced me to the rest of the team and we got to talk for a bit which was really nice, you know? From the get go I really felt like part of the team.” 

“Now you know I hate to interrupt but all of this sounds great!” 

“Yeah, well, that was the best part of the day and it didn’t last very long. After I met everyone I went up to Aaron Hotchner’s office to give him my paperwork. I’m sure you know by now that I was pretty excited to see him again, right? Well, when I told him how excited I was to be working with him again he told me that he didn’t actually know who I was. He completely forgot about me. I mean, I guess I get it. It’s been a year and a half and he meets a lot of people. Why would he remember me specifically?”

“Y/N, don’t invalidate your own feelings. What he said upset you and it’s okay to be hurt. That would have hurt my feelings too. You’re a really great person and he sucks for not thinking about you ever since he met you.” Hearing this, you can’t help but laugh a bit. Her ability to defend you no matter what always cheers you up. 

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I just wish he thought the same. Anyway, I gave him my paperwork so I could travel with the team. They got a case this morning and I was planning to go with them but for some reason Hotch made me stay behind even though I am cleared to be in the field. It just really bummed me out because I was super ready to get out there and start working but I got benched for my very first case. He had me stay with this girl named Garcia, she’s the team’s technical analyst. I mean, she’s really sweet and we worked super well together but I just wish I could have been out there doing the things that I spent seven years of my life training for.” 

“I am so sorry. That sucks. I know how excited you were. Look at the bright side, this is only your first case. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to get out there and prove yourself. It’s all gonna work out.” Unable to keep from smiling, you roll over on your side. 

“Thanks. I really hope you’re right.” Sensing the fact that you’re still upset she decides to help by changing the subject. 

“So, who all did you meet today? I know you already knew a few of the team members but was there anybody new?” 

“Yeah, Elle and Gideon are no longer there. I’m really sad I missed getting to work with them but the people I met seem really amazing. The first girl I met was named Emily Prentiss. She was really nice. The other was a guy named David Rossi.” When you finish your sentence there is nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. You wait a minute for your sister’s response but there is nothing. Before you can ask what’s wrong she chimes in again. 

“Did you say David Rossi?” There is a tone in her voice that you don’t recognize and it causes concern to stir in your stomach. 

“Yeah, why? What’s up?” There is another moment of silence. 

“It’s -- it’s nothing. I shouldn’t bring it up. You’ve already had a rough day.” As if she can sense your anxiety she continues. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I promise I’ll tell you later, okay? I just don’t think we should talk about it right now, that’s all.” As much as you want to pry you can tell that no matter how much you ask, you’re not getting the answer out of her. With a sense of unease you agree and try changing the conversation again. Once you’ve changed the topic to something other than work you can feel her ease again and the two of you talk for nearly 45 minutes. After a while you decide to call it a night and shortly afterwards you find yourself in bed. You hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until your head hit the pillow. Your sleep is dreamless which you decide in the morning is probably a good thing. 

++++++++++

The remainder of the case is spent hunkered down in Garcia’s office either doing frantic research or simply getting to know one another. In just a short while the two of you become very fast friends. You realize quickly that you share a lot of common interests and all of your conversations are endlessly fascinating. It also doesn’t take you very long to realize that you actually enjoy the work that you do with her. There is quite a bit of skill required to dig as deeply and accurately as the two of you do. It is a race against the clock to find everything you need in order to help the team and there is a certain level of excitement that comes with that. Of course you still wish you were out in the field but in the end you learn a lot and make a good friend along the way. The case ends rather succinctly with all five unsubs found and arrested with no more casualties along the way. It’s a good feeling, knowing that you helped to catch the bad guys and no one had to die for you to do so. The day the team is set to return you and Garcia head out for coffee before they show up, figuring that you deserve a little treat after all of your hard work. You make light conversation as you make your way back into the building just in time for the team to arrive. You watch them each make their way to their desks, setting down their bags and taking a moment to rest. Of course the last one to walk in is Hotch who heads straight up to his office, shutting the door behind him. 

When you feel like it’s an appropriate time you make your way over to Morgan’s desk. Upon seeing you his lips crack into a wide smile. 

“Well hey sweetheart! I have to say, you did awesome work on this case.” As he says this, he extends his hand for a high five which you quickly grant him. “I know it wasn’t easy having to sit out but you did great. I’m proud of you.” It takes everything in you not to blush. 

“Thanks. I learned a lot and I made a good friend along the way.”

“Yeah, Garcia’s pretty great isn’t she?” He says with a knowing smile.

“She definitely is. She talks about you a lot, you know.” 

“Oh, I know. Baby girl just can’t stop thinking about me. Not that I blame her, of course.” At this you lightly punch his arm. 

“You are both such teases.” This makes Morgan laugh. 

“We gotta keep things interesting.” He leans forward as though he’s about to start his paperwork but he quickly leans back to look at you. “Hey, now that I’m back we gotta go out for drinks tonight. Everyone else is already game so long as you are.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You confirm with a grin.

“Great. You know, I’d say I’m buying but I kind of feel like you owe me.” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, I was trying to get some answers for you so I asked Hotch why he wouldn’t let you on the case and he royally chewed me out for it. In his defense I probably shouldn’t have asked in front of the rest of the team but that decision still just doesn’t sit right with me.” Morgan’s words mingle in your head. It doesn’t sit right with you either but it isn’t really your place to question your boss’ orders. 

“I’m sorry he got upset with you. I do appreciate you defending me though. You’re my knight in shining denim.”

“Anytime kid. I’m happy to help.” Getting to talk to Morgan has almost instantly lifted your spirits. However, it doesn’t take long for your heart to drop into your stomach. 

“Agent L/N. May I speak to you in my office please?” You hadn’t even noticed that Hotch had come out of his office until his voice drew your attention to him. With a quick look at Morgan, who gives you a reassuring glance, you push yourself off his desk and make your way over to where Hotch is standing. Once you’re at his side he extends a hand, allowing you to step inside first. He follows quickly, shutting the door behind him. “Please, have a seat.” He says, gesturing towards a leather couch on the far wall. As you begin to sit on one end he takes up residence on the other, his knee just inches away from yours. Once you’re both settled he focuses all of his attention on you. He doesn’t seem angry but you aren’t holding your breath. It’s best to just stay professional and speak with him earnestly. 

“I’m glad to see you all back safely sir.” You begin. After the stress of the case, you want to make sure he knows that as hurt as you were by his previous decision you harbor no ill will towards him. 

“Thank you. It’s not very often that cases end as well as this one did. You understand that, don’t you? This was a special circumstance.” 

“Yes, I realize that. I’m just grateful that it did end happily even if it was just this once.” There is an intensity in the way he watches you.

“Good. I just want to make sure you fully know what to expect.” 

“I do sir. I did the day that I applied for school. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Staying silent for a moment he nods as if in thought. 

“I know before I left I said we would be able to talk. I’d like to learn a little bit more about you and from there I’ll be able to evaluate your abilities before taking you into the field. I know it wasn’t the decision you were hoping for but I hope you understand it nonetheless.”

“Of course. It’s not my place to question you and in the end I learned a lot from Garcia. Plus she was nice to work with.” 

“Good. I’m very glad to hear that you were able to make the most of the situation.” He stops for a moment, his gaze relaxing. “I wanted to tell you how well you did on this case. A challenge was presented to you and you handled it with grace. The information you provided was incredibly helpful and your suggestions were very well thought out. I was very impressed.” The softness in his eyes as he praises you leaves a fluttering sensation in your stomach. Throughout the entirety of the case you had been so hell bent on proving yourself to him and hearing him say that you had done well made every hour of hard work worth it. As much as your heart is singing you have to remind yourself to be calm. Even though he is being kind to you now, he had made his feelings known to you during your first meeting. There is no reason to read into things. Clearly he doesn’t feel what you feel. 

“Thank you sir. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed when I was left behind but I realized that I’m grateful to be here no matter what. I worked really hard to get here, to be doing this kind of work, and not everyone gets the chance to do what they’re truly meant to be doing. As heartbreaking as the outcome of this job usually is, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.” With every word the two of you are locked into one another’s eyes. For a moment you can almost swear he is holding his breath. 

“I appreciate that sense of purpose. I will always support my team but it makes it easier with members who are invested.” 

“I am. Completely. I’m here. I know you haven’t gotten a real chance to see me work but please know that my heart is in this.” 

“That was never in question,” Hotch pauses, letting his eyes fall to his lap as he considers his next sentence. “I believe now that I made a rash decision in asking you to stay behind. I can see that you are mentally prepared to be in the field. I apologize for my harsh words. I of course can’t say anything for your physical performance yet but I won’t be able to evaluate the full extent of your abilities until I am able to watch you in the field. On the next case I would like you to join the rest of the team.” A breath of relief leaves your lips.

“Of course. I’m ready to get to work.”

“I know. You’ll have the chance soon enough. In the meantime, if you have any questions or concerns feel free to come speak with me.” 

“Thank you sir.” Hotch simply nods in response, beginning to stand. You follow his actions, gathering that he is done with the conversation. As you make your way to the door, feeling much lighter than when you came in, he stops you.

“Agent L/N,” The sound of his voice causes you to turn back. “I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry for not remembering you. I never meant to hurt you. It isn’t that you were forgettable. It’s just that a lot has happened in the last year.” This apology seems much more heartfelt than before and you try to hide a smile. 

“I forgive you, sir.” With that you take your leave, making your way right back to Morgan’s desk. The shift in your mood must be palpable because he looks up at you with a smile.

“That’s not the face of someone that just got yelled at by Hotch.” 

“No, no he didn’t yell at me. He was just telling me I did a good job and he cleared me to work in the field on the next case.” 

“Good for you, kid. I’m glad we’re finally gonna get a chance to see what you can really do,” Nodding you rest against the edge of his desk again. “Now, see? That wasn’t too bad was it?” Looking back towards Hotch’s office you can see him bent over his desk, filling out paperwork. Being able to watch him for a moment without fear of falling apart allows you to crack a small smile.

“No. I guess it wasn’t.” 

Tags:  @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut @ohpedromypedro @ssahotchie @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster @maxlordd @pascalisthepunkest @paintballkid711​ @hotchafterhours @h0tchner @ssahotchswife @ssahotchhner @technotic-prophecy @klinenovakwinchester  @hotch-stufff @annadorothxa @canadailluminate @yoshigguk @gothicxbarbie @romanogersendgame​​

[sandibullock]

I was wondering if you could do a tutorial on this gifset that you did i really like ittt

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I’m glad you liked it and wondered how it was made :) Fun fact: the day before you sent this, I had just started working on my next set in that “Select Filmography” series. I hope you like that one too when it’s ready!

I think I should start by saying I’m pretty new to giffing myself and there might be more efficient ways of getting to the same result. However, the point here is to show you the process I went through to make this gifset and hopefully help you understand how to make a similar one.

To follow this tutorial, you will need some version of Photoshop and some giffing knowledge. I know there are multiple ways of making gifs so I’m just letting you know I’m using the timeline and the “Convert for Smart Filters” option (I don’t really know how else to call it).

Now let’s get started!

STEP 1 - CHOOSE THE SCENES

It might sound obvious but, in my opinion, this is the most crucial step. It’s also the one that takes the longest (along with step 7, aka the coloring).

At this stage, you need to have a general idea on how you want your set to look like so you can choose the scenes accordingly. In my case, I knew I needed two types of shots for each movie: one close-up for the main gif and one mid shot for the shape. I also needed to take two other criteria into consideration: the movement (because of the shape) and the lighting (because darker scenes are such a pain to color). Last but not least, I didn’t want the characters to be talking (but that’s just a personal preference).

With all of that in mind, you can start saving a few screenshots of scenes that meet your criteria (or at least some of them). In the end, there won’t be that many to choose from so be prepared to make compromises.

STEP 2 - MAKE A DRAFT

Now that you’ve preselected a few scenes, you can make a first draft. This will help you turn your general idea into something more concrete.

Basically, this is your opportunity to organize your thoughts. What size do you want your gifs to be? What shape are you going to use? On which side do you want the close-ups to be? Do you want all of them to be on the same side or do you want to alternate from one gif to the other? Do the scenes you chose work together (gif-wise but also set-wise)? Are you happy with the way it looks, overall?

By answering all of the questions you might have now, you’ll save yourself a lot of time, trust me. Of course, you can totally skip this step if you already know exactly which scenes you’re going to use and how you’re going to present them together.

To give you an idea, this is what my draft looked like for Atomic Blonde.

STEP 3 - PREPARE YOUR GIFS

Once you have a clearer view on how you want your set to look like, you can finally start giffing like you usually would (i.e. importing, cropping, resizing, etc.).

It should then look something like this.

The important thing to mention here is that you want both of your gifs to be the same number of frames (32, in my case).

Ideally, you should also aim for the ~same~ coloring (especially for the skin tone, since both gifs will be so close to each other). This bit is particularly difficult when you chose scenes which have opposite lighting (see my two uncolored gifs below). Remember how I insisted on steps 1 and 2? It was to help you avoid this. So my advice would be not to choose these types of contrasted scenes, unless you can’t do otherwise and you’re ready to suffer!

STEP 4 - MAKE YOUR SHAPE

To make your shape, you can click right on the Shape Tool (U) and select the last one, Custom Shape Tool. From the Shape menu appearing on top, you will be able to choose the shape you want from the drop down list and start drawing on your gif.

To be more precise with the dimensions, you can manually adapt the length and height from the Shape menu itself. I decided to go with the same ones as my gif.

Once your shape is positioned like you want it to be, you can drag and drop the shape layer under your gif. Next, you will have to click right on the gif layer/smart filter and select Create Clipping Mask. The result is as below. Note that if the size of your shape was smaller than your gif, you would still be able to reposition your gif with the Move Tool (V).

You can now export your shape gif, reopen it in Photoshop and convert it again to the video timeline and to a smart filter. This is where I’m not sure it’s the most efficient way of doing things but it’s the only way I found to keep the coloring of each gif separate. I also find it easier to work with a smart filter.

STEP 5 - COMBINE YOUR GIFS

To add your shape gif to your main gif, you can simply click right on the shape gif you just reopened and select Duplicate Layer. You can then choose the project which contains your main gif to duplicate it in there. Now go to your main gif and reposition your shape gif where you want it to be (how many times did I say gif here?). Finally, you can draw a new shape, using the same dimensions as in step 4, reposition it and choose any color you want from the Shape menu.

Since you will be repeating this process with your following gifs, I suggest you add a few guides so you know exactly where you should place everything to make all of your final gifs look the same.

(In case you’re wondering, the “Base” folder contains my adjustment layers/basic coloring for the main gif.)

STEP 6 - ADD THE TITLE

This step is pretty simple: go on the web and type “[name of the movie] title”. Download the png you like most, open it in Photoshop and resize it to a length of about 150-200 pixels. Next, duplicate the layer to your main gif and reposition it. In case you need to resize it again, select the title layer and go to Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T).

This is optional but in case you want to change the way it looks, know you can always duplicate the title layer and play with the blending options (see below). The good thing with a png is that you can also add some effects by clicking on the “fx” button.

STEP 7 - ADD COLORING (OPTIONAL)

To be honest, I had not planned on coloring my gifs. But I had already spent so much time on them and I was still unhappy with the way they looked. I mean, see how grey-ish they are? Not great...

So the only thing left for me to do was to add some colors. Now, since coloring is worth a tutorial on its own and it already exists, I suggest you read through becca’s mega coloring tutorial (and especially steps 3 & 5). Seriously, shoutout to her for making this incredibly useful tutorial. She is so talented and I love everything she makes!

My Atomic Blonde gif barely even needed coloring so I’ll show you what I did for my Tully and The Old Guard gifs.

For the first one, once I had found which colors to use with which blending option and opacity level, I only had to remove the colors from the left side of the gif because there was barely any movement in that scene (phew!). For the second one, on the other hand, I decided to color frame by frame because there was way more movement, in comparison. This is quite a tedious process, which is why you want to limit yourself to a certain amount of frames.

I’ll conclude by saying there are so many things you can do with coloring and what works with one scene might not work with another. So experiment with it: try different colors, play with the blending options and opacity levels, add some gradients and/or gradient maps, etc. Just know it will take some time to get to a somewhat satisfying result!

And that’s it... I hope this tutorial made sense and was somehow helpful. Of course, don’t hesitate if you have any questions! Also, if you do end up making a similar edit, pleeease send me the link or tag me in the replies or something ‘cause I would definitely love to see it!!

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Nine

chapter eight - Chapter Nine: The Soldier and the Mutant - chapter ten

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n deals with the new knowledge about who her father truly was and receives a surprise visitor.

Warnings: angst, fluff, fluff, FLUFF, my gosh it’s nearly suffocating how much fluff, language, one allusion to sex, mentions of suicide, mentions of torture

Word Count: 10.1k 

A/N: I’m just gonna let this one speak for itself, thanks for being so patient 😉 

----

“HYDRA?” 

“HYDRA…” I sighed.

Melanie and I were sat on her front porch, coffee cups in hand and revelations on our lips. I’d been home for two days and the shock of finding out about my father’s longstanding lie, while still fresh, was morphing into numbness. Being his daughter too, Mel needed to know the truth as well.

“This guy’s gotta be lying,” my sister waved a hand in front of her, “He has to be, he’s a criminal a-and he’s crazy.” “He’s not lying, Mels,” I held my head in my hand with my elbow resting on my chair, “I went online and scoured the internet, Dad’s name was listed in the HYDRA files leaked ten years ago.”

Mel leaned forward in her seat and hung her head, bracing her weight on her knees. My sister had always been a rock, unshakable even in the face of the worst circumstances. Even though she was keeping it together for my sake, I could see the well of emotions that would spring up once I was gone. “I can’t believe this,” she mumbled, shaking her head softly, “But looking back, it makes so much sense.” I furrowed my brows at her, “You wanna spell this one out for me?”

“Think about it,” she turned in her seat to face me, “Dad was wracked with guilt every day since he came home from the,” she set her mug down on the coffee table and made air quotes, “‘service.’ Nightmares and flashbacks and that awful depression…I mean, the man tore himself apart for what he’d done when he wasn’t passed out from drinking. He’d have had to do some pretty nasty things to feel that much guilt.” “Yeah, well, he should have felt guilty,” I grumbled, staring down at the coffee to hide the tears slowly forming in my eyes, “He hurt innocent people.”

“Wow…” she said quietly.

I sat forward in my seat, “Mom can never find about this, the shock could kill her. And as much as I feel like she should know who she was married to, I don’t think I can destroy another person’s image of Dad.” “No, I don’t think we should tell her either,” Mel agreed, taking a sip from her coffee, “I’m sorry enough that you had to find out. Wait,” she slapped a hand over my arm, “Does Bucky know? You said you and Sam were working with him.” I had done my best to put Bucky out of my mind for the past two days, failing spectacularly. I had gotten so used to him being by my side the past week that once he was gone, it felt like something was missing. Never mind the way I’d left him, those blue eyes begging me not to shut him out, the very same thing I’d asked him not to do. I had to remind myself at least ten times a day that removing myself from his life was for his good. 

“Yeah, he knows,” I looked back down at my lap, squeezing the coffee mug so tight, I thought it might shatter. Mel threw her hands out to their sides, “And?” 

“And he knows,” I replied, knowing that wouldn’t be a good enough answer for her. “So this guy finds out that our dad tortured him for years and he’s been running around Europe with his daughter and he had no reaction? What are you not telling me?” “Mel, what do you want me to say?” I snapped my head up, “He was there when Zemo told me and he’s not with me now, there’s nothing more to tell…"

I may have been a mutant, but sometimes I wished I’d have gotten my sister’s detective skills instead. She could take one look at a person and go Sherlock Holmes on their ass before they knew what hit them. It was one of the reasons she’d made such a good psychologist before becoming a stay-at-home mom.

Mel inhaled sharply and her eyes widened, “Oh my gosh, do you-“ “Don’t say it,” I held up a hand and forcefully pressed my eyes shut, a few teardrops squeezing out onto my eyelashes, “Please don’t say it.” As requested, she fell silent, her hand slipping onto my shoulder and rubbing small circles. I trained my eyes ahead of me, focusing on the last remnants of the morning’s sunrise. I’d always loved getting up early enough to watch the light spread across the sky, giving me hope that whatever pain I was feeling was only temporary. I found no such comfort gazing at the spectacle in my current state.

“It’s better this way,” I said, not able to look at her lest she see my contradictory eyes, “Trust me.” “Well,” Mel sighed loudly, “You’re the one that knows the guy…Just promise me one thing?” “Hmm?” She pulled one of my hands out of the death grip I had on my cup and took it into one of hers, “This is huge news, life-shattering, and we’re allowed to process it however we need to. But I see that look in your eyes, none of this is on you. Don’t blame yourself for what Dad did to him.” And if Mel had spent the time I had with Bucky, watched him in the bar in Madripoor, been in the therapy session with him, seen his reaction to losing his arm in Riga, I knew she’d feel different. I had a front row seat to Bucky’s PTSD and my father had been the ringleader. How could I not feel a little responsible? ——

Sam, Sarah and I had talked the boat situation over the morning before. The offer that Sarah had received from the guy who had been interested before Sam returned home had fallen through, he’d cited the reason as that it would take more money to fix than it was worth. Ever the hero, Sam had phoned everyone in the community who had known his parents and called in as many favors as he could. As I pulled up to the docks, ready to roll up my sleeves and begin working, I was delightfully surprised at how many people had responded. There were at least a dozen sets of helping hands waiting to work. It was moments like these that reminded me how lucky I was to live in such a close knit community.

I weaved through people, greeting and thanking everyone for coming out as I made my way to the boat. “Black Falcon to the rescue again, huh?” I called out to Sam as I climbed aboard, he was standing at the bow of the ship next to somebody whose back was turned to me. “You know it,” Sam called back, turning around and facing me, along with the man who he’d been in conversation with. 

It was Bucky.

My heart stopped and I froze in my tracks, adrenaline shooting through my veins. Our eyes met across the deck and we may as well have been back in Sokovia. There was the same pain threaded through his ocean blue eyes only enhanced by the fear reflecting in mine. I wanted to run to him and away from him all at once, but knew which instinct needed to be listened to. 

I looked to Sam and faked a hopefully convincing smile, “I’ll be below deck.” Hurriedly, I hauled my ass across the deck and raced down the steps. My hands flew to cover my nose and mouth as my breathing increased. He was here, he couldn’t be here, why was he here? Any progress I’d made, however small, in trying to put Bucky to rest had been revived the second I saw his face. 

“You wanna explain what that was?” I looked up to see Sam stepping off the final stair and crossing his arms in front of me, “One day you’re friends and the next you bolt outta the room when you see the guy?” “Just,” I strained, stopping to take as soothing a breath as I was capable of and straightening my posture, “Keep me where he isn’t.” Sam sighed, reading me all too well, “Y/n, if this is about your dad, there’s noth-“ “Now what needs to be done down here?” I interrupted, placing my hands on my hips and hoping that if I projected confidence, I’d start to feel it. 

“Fine,” Sam conceded to my wishes and gestured to the engine we were standing next to, “Check the zincs. If you need to replace ‘em, we’ll have to run down to Joe’s. And just so you know,” he stood at the steps and pointed between me and where Bucky most likely stood above us, “I don’t agree with this.” I shook my head to shake myself out of the moment as he left me to my work, blissfully hidden from the person I wanted to be with most. 

——

I had never experienced a more uncomfortable day.

For the entire morning and afternoon, it was like switching a light on and off. If Bucky came below deck to fix something, I filed out as quick as I could to work above deck. We didn’t interact more than when we passed each other once in a while, each brush of shoulder sending a jolt of electricity through me. Sam had been no help either, he’d prevented me from making the necessary run to the hardware store or helping Sarah with lunch. He was determined to try and quarantine me and Bucky on the boat, most likely in hopes that my resolve would weaken. No matter how much it was killing me, I kept my distance and my head down as we made repairs in awkward silence.

When the sun began to set over the waters and there was nothing left to be done for the day, I carefully made my way up the stairs and listened for voices. When I heard none close by, I took quick steps across the deck and hopped off the boat onto the dock. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder to see if Bucky, who was stealthy enough to sneak up on anyone, was behind me and kept on my path to the outdoor kitchen area Sarah was closing up. “Good day?” I asked, grabbing an extra rag to try and get the oil off my hands from working on the engine.

“Better than you,” she retorted, “You’ve had that sour look on your face since you got here.” “Just,” I sighed and stopped my rigorous rubbing for a second, “Still thinking about everything…” Stopping her cleaning while I resumed mine, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and leaned her head against mine. Out of Sam, Melanie, myself and her, Sarah was the most removed from the situation. My dad hadn’t interacted much with the Wilsons, he hadn’t interacted with hardly anyone outside of his family, so Sarah didn’t have many memories with him nor had she fought HYDRA. It was actually nice to be around someone who didn’t have his dirty deeds bouncing around their head like an old school Microsoft screensaver.

“You,” she pressed a kiss to the side of my head, “Are one of the best human beings I know and nothing can change that, not even this.” Starting the argument that this revelation did in fact change a lot of things would be useless, I knew better than to try and prove Sarah wrong. I simply patted her arm and leaned into her embrace, taking the comfort I could get even if I didn’t necessarily deserve it. 

“By the way,” she said as she unwrapped her arms, “Sam invited Bucky to stay the night.” My stomach dropped, “WHAT?” “He was gonna go find a hotel room but that’s ridiculous when he can just crash on the couch,” Sarah shrugged, wiping off the counter once again. “Why?” I pressed my hands to my mouth in a praying position, “Why could you not be an angel who has to help everybody, just this once?”

Sarah turned to face me, placing on hand on her hip, “The guy saved your ass from being killed and ran you to the hospital,” I opened my mouth to ask her how she knew that, she held up a finger to me, “Sam told me all about Riga. It’s the least we can do for him. And don’t even think about running to Mel’s place for the night, you promised the boys you’d take them to school tomorrow morning.” I stood there, nervously wringing the cloth through my hands as Sarah walked away to finish up another task before night fell. All my efforts to keep away from Bucky were failing and it wasn’t due to anything on my part. How was I supposed to protect him if we were constantly around each other? As I looked out to the deck of the boat, I could see Sam and Bucky had winded up there drinking beers to celebrate their long day of work. It was a scene that only days ago, I could have easily slipped into. I didn’t just miss Bucky, I missed the dynamic the three of us had grown to have. Sam would have pressed a beer into my hand and lightheartedly elbowed me, I’d have settled down next to Bucky whose hand would have naturally drifted to the small of my back…It would have been a perfect end to the day. Instead, I was cursing my father for ever having dipped a toe in HYDRA’s pool, his decision had ruined my life.

——

I had two vendettas, one with Sam for inviting Bucky to stay and one with my quickly drying throat that begged for water. 

Laying in bed with my pillow smashed across my face, I peeked one eye out to check my alarm clock. 1:29AM. I’d laid in the same position for an hour, hoping that sleep took me over and my thirst would die till the morning. The family had been asleep for hours and with the amount of work Sam and him did, Bucky should have been passed out too. If I pulled it off just right, I could sneak downstairs to grab a bottle of water and get out before he ever stirred. Waking an ex-assassin wouldn’t be good for either of us.

I tiptoed out of my room, mindful of the creaking door as I passed AJ and Cass’ bedroom. Once I got to the stairs, I chose a silent approach and used my energy to float my way down the steps. I continued doing so through the kitchen, sneaking a peek over to the couch to see Bucky sound asleep. I opened up the fridge quietly and reached in blindly, feeling around till I hit a bottle and pulling it out. Tucking the bottle under my arm, I placed my hands back at my side and began to let the energy lift me.

“You do know I can hear you, right?” The familiar voice startled me, causing me to absorb the energy back into my palms quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration before turning to see Bucky, laying in the same position I’d found him in with his lids still shut. “Forgot,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in my voice, “Super soldier.” 

Flipping the blanket Sarah had given to him off his body, he swung his long legs off the couch and sat up to face me. It truly wasn’t fair how good he looked even in the middle of the night, the moonlight coming through the windows and highlighting his silhouette. Admiring his profile was the only thing making the uncomfortable silence semi-bearable. 

“We need to talk,” he started. “We really don’t,” I hurriedly replied, starting to rotate my body to flee. Bucky stood up, the couch creaking in relief as he did, “Yes, we do. You left so fast the other day I couldn’t get two words in.” “Because you didn’t need to,” I said from my place in the kitchen, “There’s nothing you can say to make any of this better and you shouldn’t. In fact, you should hate me.” He raised a tired eyebrow, “Hate you?” 

“Yes,” I said, a little louder, “Hate me for what my father did to you, hate me for being his daughter. I hate me right now, I don’t understand why you don’t.” “Because there’s nothing to hate,” Bucky chuckled softly, “You of all people have given me the least to hate.” “Bucky, of all people you should hate me the most,” I said firmly, setting the forgotten bottle on the counter, “We travel the world all week and then you find out I’m the daughter of the man whose job was to hook you up to machines an-and torture you all day. That’s the man who I drew pictures of and kissed every night before bed and thought was the greatest person to ever walk the fucking planet,” I spread my arms out to accentuate the point, “That man is one of the reasons for all that pain seeping out of you. And guess what? I’m him. I’m literally his flesh and blood! So go ahead, hate me! You have every right to, and it would make this all so much easier if you did.” “Make what easier? Ignoring each other?” Bucky crossed his arms over his broad chest, “I don’t want to do that.” I knew he wasn’t going to let it go, I had only one decent shot at ending the conversation and I needed to take it, even if it broke my heart. “Well, it’s what I want,” I picked up the bottle again, trying to pretend I was as confidant in my decision to walk away as my words were.

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Bucky said, the tiniest smirk appearing on his lips, something I always found cute but now found annoying. 

It may have been the biggest lie I’d ever told in my entire life, but it was also truth. I wanted to leave Bucky before he inevitably left me. “No, it’s not,” I said, my voice threatening to tremble as I used it. “You wanna look me in the eye and tell me that?” I hadn’t dared to make too much contact with those wild eyes that I’d fallen for, I’d only give in all the quicker and let his grace draw me straight into his arms. He’d called my bluff, knowing that lying to him was easy when I didn’t actually have to see him and that I couldn’t continue the charade if that changed. As I dragged my eyes up to meet his, the tears I’d been fighting back began to come forward. He looked broken and whole at the sight of me, exactly how I felt.

“What do you want me to say, Bucky?” I whispered, my throat closing with emotion.

“I want you to tell me, to my face,” he paused, drawing a shallow breath, “That I’m crazy and that I read every signal wrong.” It would have been less painful if he’d sucker punched me with his left hand, I’d have actually preferred it. It had taken everything in me to tell just one lie, I couldn’t do it again to either one of us. But I also couldn’t succumb to my feelings. “Bucky…” I shakily began, clenching my fists at their sides.

“Because you’ve been living in my head pretty much since the minute I met you, and I don’t wanna sweep this week under the rug like it was nothing,” Bucky made a sweeping motion with his hand, “I don’t think I can.” “Bucky, we can’t…I can’t do that to you.” “Do what?” he asked confusedly, squinting his eyes as if he couldn’t see the issue. “I don’t want to hurt you!” I snapped, allowing the tears to break free of their restraints and shed themselves, “There’s going to come a day where every memory of what he put you through is going to be blamed on me and I can’t wait for the day where you wake up and look at me like I’m the monster my father was. I can’t have a little of you, Bucky, and then lose you entirely.” My cheeks were wet with my guilt, I made no effort to dry them or cease their streams. I stood there on the edge of where the kitchen met the living room staring at the man who held my heart, trying to pry it from his hands to no avail. Bucky looked just as surprised by the revelation as I’d been when it flew from my lips without any opposition from my head. 

“What did you say to me in Riga?” he whispered, his voice raising slightly to try and emphasize the point he was about to make, “’I don’t believe that any part of you is capable of me?’ ‘That’s not who you really are?’” he echoed my sentiments from days ago, “You’re not him. If I believed there was any of him in you, I wouldn’t be standing here begging you to stop beating yourself up about this.” He took a step forward, waiting to see if I walked away but I was too focused on him to think about running. He continued coming forward, “Y/n, I can’t walk away from this like you mean nothing to me. You’re the first person I’ve met that sees me as Bucky Barnes before anything else. I gave you every reason to write me off and you didn’t give up on me,” he paused, swallowing harshly as he stopped in front of me, “When I’m with you, I feel safe for the first time in a long time. There’s never gonna come a day where I stop lookin’ at you like you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

There were mere inches left between us, the words I had been dying to hear were now mine for the taking and I was too paralyzed with shock to react. Of course he had to come and hit me with my own affirmations, making perfect sense. The side of my mind that believed I didn’t deserve this happiness was screaming that these feelings would fade, that my father’s sins would always be at the forefront of us. The other side that wanted nothing more than to reach out and close the distance between us was telling me to believe him and let myself be cared for, something I’d always believed I was too broken for. And somehow they were both drowned out by the excitement I felt with Bucky in such close proximity, staring down at me with those cerulean pools, infused with the darkness that sent a chill down my spine. There was a palpable change in the air, from emotional to the great and grand something we finally near naming. Every part of me wanted to reach out and take him for for myself, to kiss him and pull him so close that there was no telling where I began and he ended. If there was a chance for me to back out, it was now. I could run to my room, to my car, anywhere that he wasn’t. But at the end of the day, that wasn’t what I wanted. I could either let myself be held captive by crimes I’d never committed, or I could dedicate myself to loving the man who the universe had somehow tied me to long ago. 

“Tell me to stop,” Bucky said, his voice hitting that low timbre that made goosebumps break out across my skin. 

I couldn’t deny either one of us any longer.

Bucky took a step towards me, his eyes never leaving mine as I backed to accommodate him and his plans. A small gasp left me as my back hit the kitchen wall, my hands reaching back to press against it to try and find purchase on something. There was now only a breath’s width of space left between Bucky and I, our shared air growing more and more heated as we bathed in the anticipation of the moment. His eyes flicked between my y/e/c ones and my lips, looking for any signs of hesitation that didn’t exist. He placed a finger under my chin to tilt my head to his liking, pausing to take in the sight of my tear streaked face in the last seconds before we let loose the storm that had been brewing inside us both. I took the time to admire the wonder on his face, the two of us his newest discovery in a world he had long been asleep to.

He leaned in and our lips finally touched, euphorically.

I found myself unable to move, overwhelmed by the sensation I’d wanted to feel since our dance in Madripoor. Bucky didn’t overstep his bounds, he kept our mouths softly connected as we absorbed each other. When he disconnected our lips, whether to repeat the act or pull away, my body snapped into action and my hands flew to his neck, pulling him back down to me. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance so much as they did try and take in as much of each other as they could. Bucky’s hand slipped from my chin and both fell to my hips, pulling me flush against his body. On his tongue, I could taste the remnants of however many beers he’d shared with Sam, they’d stayed on the boat till the first evening stars started to appear. The scent of him, freshly showered after a long day of work, invaded my senses and spurred me on further, my hands moving to fist the back of his blue henley. With our kisses becoming more fervent, Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around my hips and lifted me so effortlessly, it only made the moment more heated. I wound my legs around his waist and let him carry me to wherever he desired, him easily supporting my weight and never disconnecting our lips as he fell to the couch. My hands snaked up his back to thread themselves through the short brown locks, causing him to pull away with a soft moan before diving back into my mouth. His flesh hand took hold of the back of my head and pushed me further into the kiss, trying to taste as much of me as he could. This. This was what I had been craving since the moment I’d realized I was far more starved of Bucky’s touch than I’d thought I’d been. The delightful friction our bodies created, the pressure of our lips dancing together, the knowledge that I was just as much his as he was mine. No more questioning, no more stolen moments wondering what could have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. This was whole and perfect and right. 

Eventually, the second long breaks we took for became insufficient and we needed to part for longer. Bucky looked gorgeously spent, his half lidded eyes following me, his lips deliciously swollen and his hair messed up from where my hands had been. I smiled as I dragged my hands to his cheek and ran my thumb over his plump lower lip, bringing a lopsided grin to his face. There was a joy I hadn’t seen him express yet and my stomach flipped knowing that I was the one to bring it in him.

“Don’t leave,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of our passion,  “Please.” In my palms, I held one of the world’s most deadly men, someone whose reputation had consisted of how ruthless a killer he’d once been. And here he was, warm and soft and begging me not to go. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, delighting in how his eyes brightened at hearing my words. Contrasting the intensity of the minutes before, I leaned in and brushed my lips against Bucky’s with as little pressure as I could. He chased them the second I pulled away, eliciting a giggle out of me that he swallowed, kissing me so lovingly it almost broke my heart. He inhaled me like I was oxygen and he’d been deprived far too long. It didn’t occur to me that there was a chance I was his first kiss since before he shipped out in the ’40’s. “I don’t wanna stop,” he mumbled against my lips. “Then don’t,” I replied, breathing in his soft exhales, “We’ll stay up all night doing this.” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from my mouth to turn his head and press tender kisses to the palm I’d been cradling his cheek in. He tugged me closer then, my hands winding around his shoulders and his face burying itself in my neck. My laugh at the sensation of his scruff quickly morphed to a moan as he planted drawn out kisses against every inch of the bruises our encounter with Walker in Riga had left me with. I extended my neck to give him better access, feeling his lips twist in a wicked grin as his ministrations caused my breathing to quicken. “Okay, if you keep doing this,” I gasped, trying to steady my voice, “We’re gonna be up all night doing something else.” He pecked the column of my neck once more before pulling his head out and facing me, still smiling. I pressed my forehead to his and he nuzzled his nose against mine, still desperate to keep any contact he could. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Bucky confessed, rubbing his metal hand up and down my back, “Thought about it in Riga, when we were fighting, in the alleyway…”

“Me too,” I agreed, grinning uncontrollably, “But you know why I’m glad it didn’t happen till now?” Bucky hummed questioningly, “Because this is the longest we’ve been together without someone interrupting us.”

Bucky chortled loud enough for me to feel the need to cover his mouth, causing me to laugh myself. I never thought that there would come a day where the two of us would be sitting on my couch in the middle of the night, as lighthearted as could be. This was a slice of heaven after all that we’d been through. “Do you believe me now when I say my opinion of you is never gonna change?” Bucky asked. Had he not proven to me that it was true, I wouldn’t have believed it. I’d have punished the both of us for the rest of my life. “As long as you believe me when I say that I know you’ll never hurt me.” I knew that there was so many layers to his pain, most that I would never understand, but he couldn’t keep a part of himself hidden forever. If we were going to do this, we were going do it wholeheartedly, taking the best and the worst parts of each other. The unlovable would never go unloved as long as we were together.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, tightening the arm around my waist and bringing the other to my face, “Okay.” He pulled me down to press his lips to each of my cheeks, landing one last one to my mouth.

Our kisses became longer and softer, signaling that though we were both eager to explore this new territory, exhaustion was running the show. We eventually slowed down to where Bucky’s face rested in the juncture where my neck met my shoulder while my head rested against his, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hand running through his hair. My lips laid featherlight kisses against his temple every few minutes, taking advantage of the fact that I could do so freely now. I could feel his hot breath hit my skin at such a leisurely pace that if it hadn’t have been for his metal thumb rubbing my waist every once in a while, I’d have thought he’d fallen asleep. Eventually, when my eyelids began to shut against my will, Bucky shifted on the couch to lay both of us down. I settled naturally on top of him, my head against his chest and a hand resting on each of his broad shoulders. Just when I thought in my drowsy haze that nothing could make the moment any more perfect, Bucky pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of my head and tightened his arms around my back, securing my body to his.

This was peace.

This was right.

This was what we deserved.

——

At the sound of hushed voices and grunts, my eyes slowly opened. I blinked a few times and made out the sight of my nephews, AJ throwing punches and Cass deflecting them with the shield that had laid in the hallway for days. After days spent witnessing some of the worst the world had to offer, this was the purity that I needed to see.

“Bucky…” I whispered, he inhaled sharply as he awoke with one arm slung over my waist and the other hung over the edge of the couch. I tapped his chest and pointed to my nephews, still oblivious to our presence.

“Hey,” Bucky called, his morning voice rougher than it was the rest of the day. 

The boys jumped at the sound, Cass shoving the shield back in its case and him and AJ running as soon as it hit the ground with mischievous smiles on their faces. I laughed softly, looking up to see Bucky lazily smiling. I had the best view in the world, close enough to see the lines that drew his grin up, so different from the frowning ones I was so used to seeing. When he tilted his head down and our eyes met, his smile made no effort to lessen itself.

“Morning,” he said, bringing a hand up to stroke the top of my head.

“Morning,” I replied, shimmying up his body and taking hold of his cheeks, our lips meeting in early morning bliss, “We’re in deep shit.” “Why’s that?” he asked.

“The boys can’t keep a secret to save their lives,” I chuckled, “So you need to enjoy your last day alive because Sam is going to kill you.” Bucky wrinkled his nose as he laughed, “Thanks for the warning.” I dropped my head back to his chest, picking up one of his dog tags in my hand and reading his name pressed in the metal. I’d never been a big believer in fate, but as I rubbed a thumb over the necklace I was reminded that Bucky and I should have never met. He should have been long gone by now, Captain America’s childhood friend who met a tragic end before he could see the war won. He wasn’t supposed to be here, warming my body with his and pressing the sweetest kisses I’d ever known to my skin. Our being together defied time itself.

“Seeing them, the boys…” Bucky began, still stroking my hair, “I think I get what you and Sam were talking about back in Maryland.”

I rested my chin on his pec to see him, his gaze focused on the ceiling in deep thought. “Steve giving him the shield…It’s not the same at all.”

I shook my head, sadly, giving confirmation to his revelation. I didn’t begrudge him for not understanding right away, unless you were in Sam’s shoes you could only have so much of an understanding. The unrelenting way that Bucky had pushed him was what had caused me to call him out on several occasions. But if the week we’d had with our confrontation with the police, meeting Isaiah and coming to Delacroix had finally shown him the flaw in his thinking, I was glad. “I think you should talk to him,” I suggested. He scoffed, “I think I owe him a lot more than that.

“Well, he’s probably already out on the boat. And I,” I groaned as I sat up, straddling Bucky’s hips, “Promised the boys that I’d take them to school so we both need to get up.” Bucky made a similar sound as he swung his legs over the couch, pivoting my body so that we were in a similar position we’d been in in the middle of the night. He took my face in his hand and gave a kiss so long, I knew I’d feel the ghost of his lips until the next time I was able to feel the real thing. To think just hours before I’d been hellbent on convincing him that we couldn’t allow ourselves to act on our feelings. Here I was now struggling to let go of him to spend an hour apart at most. 

The giggling on the other side of the wall broke the spell though.

Bucky and I broke apart with a shared smile. “See you in a bit,” I whispered, pressing my hands to his chest and pushing off of him to disappear around the corner.

After dressing for the day, I corralled the boys into my car. I could practically hear their predictable thoughts and feel their eyes boring into the back of my head as I shut my door. “There’s donuts with both your names on them if you promise not to tell Uncle Sam what you saw this morning.”

A resounding chorus of enthusiastic ‘okays’ reminded me that I was the best aunt in the world who made the worst parenting decisions. 

——

By nothing short of a miracle, Bucky was still alive when I returned.

We worked on the boat with familiar stolen glances and secret smirks when Sam had his back turned. At some point Sarah kicked the two of them off the boat for attempting to repair the water pump, something she’d been repairing and Bucky and I were forced to separate. As the two men departed the dock, he turned around to catch one last look at me and flashed the smile I’d seen more of in the last twelve hours than I had all week. 

“You wanna tell me what changed from last night?” Sarah’s voice broke me out of the daze I was in.

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been staring at that man with googly eyes all day,” she climbed aboard the boat, “You’re also lucky that our brother is clueless.” 

I rolled my eyes and bumped my hip against hers, “Freakin’ mom vision, can’t get anything past you.” “I’m just glad you got out of your own way, he seems like a good guy,” Sarah smiled, “He’s also fine as hell, if you haven’t noticed. If you wouldn’t have gone for it, I might have.” Our loud laughter mixed together as I whacked her with the towel I’d been using to clean an oil stain off of the boat.

Later that day, after finishing helping my sister with a few repairs we could get done without interruptions from Sam and Bucky, I wandered to our backyard to behold a sight I never thought I’d see. Sam was throwing the shield around while Bucky stood beside him. I stopped at the side of the house to watch, the Vibranium bouncing off of training pads from our garage that were strapped to the tree. Since Sam had brought the shield home six months ago, I’d never seen him do more than pick it up and look at it every once in a while. He’d kept it stored away in his bedroom in its casing, AJ and Cass hadn’t even seen it until he’d left it in the hall after returning from Maryland. To see him wielding it now felt…right. He looked just as natural with it as Steve had. Bucky had made a 180 as well, he looked content watching Sam as he caught the shield in its return journey back to them. If I hadn’t watched them bicker like schoolchildren for the better portion of the week, I’d have mistaken them for friends. “Are you telling me that you two could’ve man-hugged it out back in that interrogation room?” I shouted as I watched them clasp hands and pull each other in, “Coulda spared yourselves a lot of discomfort.”

They both laughed and turned to face me, in an effort to save time as I made my way out to where they stood. “So what’s new?” I asked with a knowing smile, eyeing Sam as he held the shield at his side

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied, “And a little bit of everything.”

I chuckled before my eyes inevitably found Bucky’s, who was already waiting for me with an outstretched palm. “Can I talk to you a minute?” “Yeah,” I reached out and intwined our fingers. “Whoa! Wait, wait, wait,” Sam boomed, gesturing to our locked hands, “What the hell is this?”

“Something new,” I shrugged, looking up and matching Bucky’s smile.

Sam groaned in disgust, “You’ve been here twenty four hours, Barnes, you couldn’t’ve kept your hands off my sister? I-I can’t even look at this, it’s sickening, ugh…” he turned his back to us and began his walk back to the house, spinning around quickly and stuttering, “You know what? I-“ he closed his mouth and shook his head, “Uh-uh, nope, can’t do it.” Bucky and I both snorted as we watched him leave, voicing his displeasure to himself. I looked down and noticed the packed duffle bag that rested at Bucky’s feet, “I get the feeling there’s something you need to tell me?” He sighed, reaching blindly to weave his fingers with my other hand’s set. “There’s something I gotta go do. A couple somethings actually. I talked to Sam, or at least he talked to me,” one corner of his mouth quirked up, “This whole making amends thing, I haven’t been doing the greatest job of it. There’s too many names in that book that don’t have closure about what happened to someone they loved. If I stand a chance at putting what happened in the past, I gotta go ‘do the work’.”

I rubbed my thumb over his smooth metal knuckle, staring down at the space between us. “Yeah, you do,” I looked up at him, “Recovery sucks, there’s no sophisticated way of putting it. Sam and I have both seen the ugly side of it. But you owe it to yourself to work as hard as you can for your freedom, as difficult as it can be sometimes.” Bucky leaned down to press his forehead against mine. “If it hadn’t’ve been for you, I might not have believed that. I wanna get better for you too, to try and be the man you deserve.”

I hummed and bit down on my bottom lip, smiling widely. “So…you kinda like me.” “Yeah,” Bucky chuckled softly, “Just a little bit.”

The warmth I felt radiating through me, brought on by nothing more than a touch of our hands and a shared smile powered me in a way my energy never could. “Go,” I said after a few seconds of silence, “Do whatever you need to do. I think there’s some things here that I need to take care of myself.” Bucky pulled back to look my face over as if to commit every inch to his memory before holding the back of my head and pressing a kiss to my lips. Perhaps it was cruel that I had just gotten him and now had to let him go for an undetermined period of time. But his recovery meant more to me than any amount of heart pounding touches or earth shattering kisses he could give. If we ever had a shot of making it, we needed to go to our separate corners and heal.

I hesitantly broke away from his lips first, rubbing mine together after to memorize the taste he’d left. “If I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to…” “It won’t be forever,” he shook his head, bumping his nose against mine, “Sam’s gonna call me if he gets a lead on Karli.” Rather than keep him longer with my insecurities about jumping back into hero work now knowing who my father had truly been, I decided that dealing with that was for my personal healing. I reached my arms up to wind around his neck, his finding their new home around my waist and for a split second in time, nothing else mattered. There was just me, Bucky and the future I hoped we had ahead of us. I memorized the feel of him, the rise and fall of his chest against mine, his soft hair between my fingers, the scratch of his stubble against my neck. I hadn’t had time to daydream about Bucky since recognizing my feelings for him but even if I had, they’d have never done the real thing near justice.

“Stay safe, Sergeant,” I said, pulling back to peck his lips one last time and releasing him from my hold.

Bucky picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving my hand one more squeeze and holding it as he started to walk backwards. Once we reached a point where the only way to keep the contact was to follow him, we let go with a brush of our fingers till I was only holding air. With a final shared look, he turned his back to me and started down the dirt path that would lead him from our corner of Louisiana to the rest of the world. In so many ways I felt as if we’d traveled back to 1943 when he’d shipped out for England. I was sending him off to another war, this time battling his own past. Above any other feeling I felt for Bucky, the one that topped the list was belief. I believed in him more than he believed in himself and I wanted that to change. He could do it and once he did, there was no telling just how happy we could be.

But I in turn had to deal with my own demons.

——

While I wish I could have said I had a plan like Bucky’s, I had no idea what the first step was to healing past what my father had done.

HYDRA wasn’t a topic that I could just plop down on a therapist’s couch and start discussing, there were only so many people I could talk to about it. I found myself wishing that Steve was still around, next to Bucky he was the world’s leading expert on how much damage the organization could do. Without a blueprint of how to begin mending my wounds, I was left to wallow in my own grief over the man I’d believed my dad to be. Sam, however, was on fire.

After him, Sarah and I had made the unanimous decision that the boat was too important to our family to part with, he had launched into the most intense training I’d ever seen him put himself through. He was both blowing me away and not surprising me at all with his dedication.

One morning, I came outside at his normal time to come home from his 6AM run with a cup of coffee for me and a Gatorade for him. On cue, he came jogging up the dirt path I’d watched Bucky leave on days ago.

“You’re inhuman,” I said, tossing him the drink as he approached, “I’m convinced of it.” “It’s nothin’ you couldn’t be doing,” he panted. 

“Yeah, I can run with you or I can get up before sunrise. A combo deal is not gonna happen,” I chortled before taking a sip of my coffee. 

Sam joined me and sat down beside me on our back porch, the view of the blue waters a perfect accent to the almost fully risen sun. “Look, I don’t wanna know any details but…you and Bucky?”

I smiled as I stared down into my mug, just the thought of him causing happiness to bloom in my chest. “It was kinda happening the whole time, it just took us a while to realize it.” Sam groaned, taking a long swig of his drink. “That’s all I need to know, as long as you both are happy and not too disgusting with each other,” he looked out the corner of his eyes at me, “I think I can live with it.” “Well, that’s mighty big of you,” I patted his sweaty shoulder, instantly regretting the decision and wiping my palm on my bathrobe, “That shield starting to feel like it’s yours?” Sam chuckled, “It doesn’t feel like it’s not mine anymore, it’s…weird. Talking with Isaiah was sobering and he’s allowed to be as bitter as he wants. The man’s earned to right to feel anything after what he’s been through. But,” he sighed, “I couldn’t let it go. All that pain and suffering, I can’t let it go to waste.” “You couldn’t not be a hero even if you tried,” I shook my head in amazement, beaming with pride at my brother, “I’m proud of you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” he hit my knee with the back of his hand, “I’ve got Torres working on some things, hopefully we can figure out where Karli might be going next-“ I couldn’t lead both him and Bucky to believe I was seriously considering going back to the fight. “I’m gonna stop you right there,” I held up a hand, “When you find them, it’s gonna be just you and Bucky. I’m out.” He furrowed his brows and twisted to face me fully, “Why?” “I can’t be the hero I thought I could, not after what I found out. It would only be a matter of time till somebody looked me up and figured out who my father was, then what? Some ex-HYDRA member comes looking for me? The public loses trust in me to protect them? Your reputation gets damaged when they realize I’m your sister?” I dropped my head down to stare at my lap, “It’s a bad idea. HYDRA doesn’t breed heroes.”

A beat of silence was played before my brother gave his rebuttal. “Look at me,” I dragged my eyes away from my engrossing coffee to him, “I couldn’t give two shits what people think about you being my sister, cause you know what? They don’t know you. They don’t know what you’ve done to try and stop the Flag Smashers, how you saved my life in that warehouse or how you helped keep our family going for five years. They don’t know how stubborn and caring and how much of a hero you are without your powers,” he paused and smirked at me, “And they’re never gonna know that if you don’t show them. What your dad did was horrible, but you’re not the one that did it. If you didn’t let his secret hold you back from being with Bucky, why’re you letting it hold you back from something else you want? You don’t need to be proud of being his daughter, but you need to make peace with it.”

He was right, as if he could ever be anything other than. Sam was counseling me like a sister but also like one of the countless veterans he’d helped wracked with guilt. I didn’t know if I’d ever fully recover from the hurt that came with the revelation, but if I kept on going how I was, I’d be a complete hypocrite. If Bucky could face the victims of his crimes and confess to them, I should’ve been able to deal with my ghosts. All I’d ever wanted to do was help people, to use that mutated gene of mine to help right wrongs. To do that, I needed to do the work. “This is a far cry from a few days ago when you were ready to send me packing,” I retorted. “Well,” Sam chuckled, “You proved me wrong. Fighting with you by my side just felt right, made me wish you could’ve been there for ‘em all.”

The fact that I had shown him that I could keep up with him was astounding, I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen. But with his approval, I’d have to have been an idiot to walk away from it all.

“Good talk,” I smiled, patting his leg while taking one last sip of my coffee before handing it to him.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Making peace with it.”

——

The drive from Delacroix to New Orleans had always relaxed me. The disappearance of the deep bayous as the scenery slowly changed to city, the ever present cypress trees, the hour travel time always gave me time to think. Something I was thankful for today especially.

I parked my car outside my destination, making the long trek through the cemetery I’d visited every week as a child. My feet automatically as I passed the neat rows of above ground tombs until I reached where I needed to be.

Keeping a safe distance away, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and took a deep breath. “Hi,” I whispered, greeting my father’s tomb as if I expected it to speak back to me. “Um…I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are but…there’s some things I need to talk to you about.” My eyes began to water, partially from the wind hitting my face but mostly from the tears that had been waiting to spring free. “Why’d you do it, Dad?” I whispered against the lump in my throat, “I don’t understand how you could ever have been a part of something so destructive. You were the last person I would have ever believed could have done something like this. You were my hero,” I looked down at the ground between us, “I never thought you’d end up being the villain.” I drew a shaky breath and continued, “I watched your guilt over your ‘time in the service’ tear you apart to a point where you thought death was the only way out so…I think it’s safe to assume you felt bad about what you’d done. I watched you every day try to be a good father to me and Mel, you didn’t succeed all the time but you did your best. I know you loved us…” “Somehow,” I dug the heel of my sneaker into my the dirt, “I’m trying to find it in me to forgive you, Dad. For the pain your secret’s brought me, for what your name could do to the rest of my life, for lying…But the one thing I don’t know how to forgive you for is what you did to Bucky,” the tears that I’d finally gotten under control threatened to start again, “Because Dad, he means the world to me and to know that you were behind that pain that’s running his life…It makes me want to hate you. And the saddest part is that I know you would have loved him if you’d ever gotten a chance to meet the real him.”

“The way I see it, I can’t undo the damage you did to the world,” my voice found its strength, “But what you did isn’t going to dictate what I do with my life. I’ve only ever wanted to do good, however I can, that’s what I’m going to do. I know that you wanted me to keep my powers hidden, probably because you didn’t want anyone to find me, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t pay the price for your sins. So I’m gonna fight and I’m gonna try to rewrite our family’s legacy.”

“Anyway, that’s, uh, that’s all I wanted to say,” I took a slow step forward and placed a hand over the stone tomb, “I wish…I wish things would have turned out different.”

With one last gaze upon my father’s final resting place, I left the same way I’d come, for once not having to fake the confidence I was feeling.

——

“Oh, oh, it’s going…” I teased.

“Give it back!” Sam yelled! “It’s going!”

“Y/n!” 

I levitated the shield further away from Sam and slid it across the ground into the boy’s soccer net, AJ and Cass chasing me as I did. I’d only just shown them that their aunt could make stuff fly and we were currently engaged in an intense game of keep away with Sam.

“AJ! Grab it!” I yelled, my nephew hurrying to the net and lifting the shield, stumbling a little as he took off running with it on his arm. I threw up a force field around Sam, who was gaining on him, “Oh no!” Sam was laughing the whole time as he tried to punch his way out of the bubble encasing him. “Go go go!” I cried, watching the boys run off with the shield into the house, dropping the field once they were inside.

“You’re the worst influence on them, you know that right?” Sam chuckled as we slowly made our way towards the front door. 

“Hey, I don’t want them thinking their uncle’s the only cool one in the family,” I replied as we entered the house, pulling out my phone to check the notifications I’d feel vibrating in my back pocket. One was a news alert. “Sam.” “Huh?” I tossed him my phone and hurried through the house till I reached the television, flipping to the news to see the article come to life. The GRC was voting in New York on the Patch Act, a movement that would move twenty million refugees back to their home country.

“Shit,” I mumbled, feeling Sam’s presence behind me. His phone rang to announce a call. “It’s Torres,” he held out the phone and revealed the man’s face. “Sorry this took so long, spare you the technical details, but I finally got results for the scans you asked for and I think we’re onto something,” Torres explained as Sam and I went to look at his computer, displaying a map of Europe that lit up with bright red circles. “When we look back, all these pings, they’re from places just before the Flag Smashers hit. Clearly, they’re all over Europe. Earlier today, we got one from New York. Now, I can’t promise you they’re not using a VPN or masking their location, but…” I’d stopped listening after he’d said ‘New York,’ and turned my attention to the tv, every piece of the puzzle was coming together. Karli wouldn’t be physically able to hold herself back from interfering with the vote. “Great work, Joaquin,” Sam said, his eyes trained on the screen along with me, “We’ll take it from here,” he hung up the call and turned to me, “Time to get to work. Come with me.” He rose from his chair and led me to the coat closet nearest to the front door, opening it up to pull out a large silver case and handing it to me. “I don’t know what’s in it, Bucky just told me to hold onto it until the time came where you’d need it,” Sam stated, “I’m thinking that’s now.” Confusedly, I carried it out and up to my bedroom, placing it on my mattress and trying to figure out how to open it. There was no keyhole, only a bar that hosted a red screen. My finger brushed over it, the action turning it blue and the case automatically released an air lock I didn’t know it had. Waiting a few seconds to make sure nothing popped out, I carefully opened the box to see something I couldn’t have predicted in a million years. Resting on top of the surprise was a note on the nicest stationary I’d ever seen…

You may be able to kick my ass, but I’m never gonna stop trying to protect you.

- Bucky

I breathed a soft laugh, holding the paper in my hand and imagining Bucky hunched over a table, writing the words that were now lodged in my heart. “Sam,” I called out, leaving the case open and rushing across the hall to my brother’s room, “Sam, it’s-“ All words disappeared and all thoughts halted at the sight of him opening up his own case, I didn’t need to see its contents to make an educated guess at what was inside of it. There were a dozen emotions playing out on Sam’s face, wonder, apprehension, excitement, shock…Every one of them valid but none of them coming close to the amount of pure determination in his eyes.

I watched from the doorway, smiling, “Ready when you are, Cap.”

----

A/N: AHHH. Only two chapters left, hope this one lived up to your expectations. Getting your messages and comments and asks have been making my days and I’m so glad people are enjoying this little ride I’m taking us all on. Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged for the remainder of the series!

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[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo​!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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for sale or wanted — jean kirstein x fem! reader

series masterlist

prev | next , part two

warnings: cursing, porco being toxic lol. dates are wrong once again sorry !!

[ playlist : love again - dua lipa ]

eight.

Half asleep and ready to go to bed, Y/N fell back into her bed. She picked up her phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll through some TikToks. Instead, she was met with two messages. Audibly gasping as she read Porco’s name, she dropped her phone, hitting herself in the face in the process. “Ow!”

Porco? Y/N thought incredulously. What the hell does he want?

Contemplating asking Ymir and Sasha for advice, Y/N then decided against it. This was her life, she couldn’t expect her friends to guide her though it. But God, was she such a coward when it came to Porco. It wasn’t like he was Prince Charming, but Y/N had an extreme loyalty complex. She couldn’t ever allow herself to let go of people. Porco used to berate her for that constantly.

Why are you so clingy? He would ask.

Who’s the clingy one now? Y/N thought bitterly. She decided to ignore Porco’s text until she could think of a reply that wasn’t along the lines of “No, fuck you.” She slid her thumb over to Jean’s message.

Great. Another text asking to talk. Why couldn’t people just send their question and save a girl the anxiety? Y/N scolded herself for allowing her egotistical ex to ruin her mood. Jean didn’t deserve her snappiness.

Jean sighed in relief. Thank God she replied. He didn’t know if he could handle the mortification if she didn’t.

Y/N pondered for a bit.

Y/N laughed quietly to herself. So Jean could in fact match her sense of humor. She exited out of their chat, mindlessly scrolling through social media. She actively avoided Porco’s message, not wanting to burden herself with the chore of responding to him. What could he possibly have to say? She headed to Twitter, hopefully finding something relatable to retweet. As Y/N scrolled, she saw a familiar face appear on her timeline.

Recommended for you from contacts, the header read. Below it was about 3 profiles of people in her contacts she had not followed yet. Among them, was Jean.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Should I? She questioned. Would she be overstepping some unspoken boundary? What if she hurt her own feelings by stalking and seeing something she wouldn’t like/had no business seeing? Maybe she should just ignore it. She doubted Jean was some internet creep… but wouldn’t it be good to know if he was? Curiosity getting the better of her, Y/N decided to invade that boundary and look at his account.

He didn’t have much content from what Y/N could see. He just retweeted fancy cars and some funny memes. She spotted Connie, Sasha’s lifelong friend and Jean’s infamous roomie. She mentally hoped Jean didn’t tweet like Connie. That would be the ultimate ick.

Y/N’s thumb stopped scrolling, hovering over a tweet. Her heart beated ten times more rapidly.

well she is pretty lol, Jean’s tweet read. Tweeted just an hour after he met Y/N.

Could it be? Y/N wondered. No way. There’s no way it’s about me. I’m just jumping to conclusions. Why would he say that about me? I’m just being self absorbed.

She brushed off her inquiries, deciding to just stop stalking his account entirely. From what she already saw, there wasn’t anything suspicious or icky enough to make her want to not interact with him. And she was already paranoid, so every tweet she saw she would begin to assume it was about her as well. She was just getting her hopes up.

Rolling over on her side, Y/N placed her phone to charge and went to sleep. It was late, which was probably what was causing her mind to become fuddled.

——

“You should’ve told me Sasha’s third roomie was Y/N,” Reiner had said to Jean in the truck. “I totally blindsided her. Top ten worst encounters of my life.”

“Uh, care to enlighten me? Do you guys have beef or something?” Jean asked, perusing the radio stations.

Reiner sighed. “She’s dating- was dating- my childhood friend, Porco.”

Jean felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

Reiner glanced at him before stopping at a red light. “I said dating. He dumped her like a week ago. It was pretty trash.”

Jean secretly felt more at peace hearing that. Poor Y/N, but.. she could probably do better than this Porco person.

“So what does that have to do with you?” Jean asked.

Reiner shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really help. She said she felt a little betrayed. Like I agreed with Porco and my friends that she’s the crazy one.”

Jean nodded. “So you were a bystander.”

Reiner sighed again, tilting his head in an I guess motion. “It’s just hard. Porco’s like my brother, and I don’t agree with how he acted… but maybe I should have spoken up sooner.”

Jean patted his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, man. That was between them.”

“Yeah. I could have at least told Porco to step it up, though.” Reiner murmured.

I’m glad you didn’t. Jean snickered to himself.

“So, you think she’s cute?” Reiner shot Jean a devilish grin. Jean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess. You goin’ to Historia’s birthday?” He slyly changed the subject.

“Is it open invite?” Reiner’s eyebrows scrunched up.

Jean shrugged. “I have an invite. Maybe you can be my plus one.”

Reiner made a “Hmm” sound in response, weary at Jean’s invite. “What are you dressing as if you go?”

“I was thinking swag era Justin Bieber.” Jean replied, smiling widely.

Reiner gave him a look. “You for real?”

Jean’s smile dropped. “What?”

Reiner laughed. “I’d pay money to see how badly you embarrass yourself with that.”

“It’s a 2000’s party?” Jean was confused.

“Yeah, but everyone does like, early 2000s. Think Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake.”

Jean shot him a curious look.

“What? Pop culture is my guilty pleasure.” Reiner explained himself. “And everyone knows Britney Spears.”

Jean hummed in response. “I just think you got a thing for pop girls.” He referenced the earlier Becky G mishap.

“I’m not even gonna deny it anymore.” Reiner agreed, defeated.

——

“Guys,” Y/N said the next morning. Ymir and Sasha were at the breakfast “nook” (a corner of their miniature kitchen designated for a small table that barely fit all three of them), Sasha eating cereal and Ymir chomping on an apple while scrolling on her phone. “Porco texted me last night.”

Ymir continued scrolling, unfazed. Sasha’s eyes widened and she swallowed her food before speaking. “What? Why?” Y/N glared at Ymir.

“Thanks for your interest YMIR, but as i was telling Sasha-“

“I’m Sasha.” Sasha cut in, obviously confused.

Y/N gave Sasha a look.

“Did you say something?” Ymir said, bored. She still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“Ymir!” Sasha scolded. “Y/N’s telling us Porco texted her!”

“Who’s Porco?” Ymir replied, monotonous.

Y/N sighed in exasperation. “Are you stalking Eren again? I already told you to stop comparing your subscribers-“

“I’m not stalking Eren!” Ymir snapped defensively. “I’m…” She mumbled the next part incoherently.

“Huh?” Sasha and Y/N asked in unison.

“I SAID,” Ymir repeated, annoyed. “I’m looking up Britney Spears outfits. Historia wanted us to go as different eras of her. But I can’t find anything that matches my style.” She grumbled.

Y/N’s heart melted. It was adorable watching Ymir struggle to find a matching costume for Historia. It was like Marilyn Manson wanting to get along with a CareBear.

“Just go as JT,” Sasha said, chewing her cereal.

“One, close your mouth, and two, Historia asked for us to go as Brittney. I can’t just show up like a dude.” Ymir visibly deflated as she scrolled through countless pictures of a younger Spear’s iconic looks.

“Why don’t you try her bandanna phase? That wasn’t so over the top, and she wore mostly jeans.” Y/N suggested as she squeezed into the corner chair.

Ymir sighed. “I don’t want to wear a skirt or some bimbo shit. That’s y’alls look.”

“How do you manage to sound endearing trying to please your girlfriend while simultaneously insulting us?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“It’s a talent.” Ymir waved her off. “What did you guys get her though?”

“A giftcard to Urban Outfitters,” Sasha replied. “I got tired of searchin’. I put $50 on it. I think that should be enough for like, a shirt and a half. She better like it, too. ‘Cus I’m broke.” Sasha pointed her spoon at Ymir accusingly.

“I got her the Taylor Swift vinyl she’s been wanting. And some pink film for her camera.” Y/N added. Ymir nodded approvingly.

“I hope she likes my gift. I don’t know if I’m moving too fast though?” For the first time since Y/N mer Ymir, Y/N hadn’t ever seen her this distraught.

“Calm down,” Y/N reassured her. “You’ve been together for years now. I don’t think you can move any slower.”

Ymir rolled her eyes, leaning back im her chair with arms crossed. “It’s a small trip to Seoul. I know she’s been dying to go. It’s not like it’s anything she hasn’t seen before with her family… but I figure it’d be different with just us.” Y/N’s heart melted.

“That’s so sweet!” Sasha exclaimed, eyes watery. “I want an Ymir!”

“Well, you can’t have me!” Ymir laughed. “It’s not a big deal. The sponsorship I managed to land gave me a decent payout.” Ymir sheepishly replied, her cheeks a faint red

Y/N nudged her. “Look at you, being modest.”

Ymir waved her hand. “Shut up. How does this look?” She turned her phone to Y/N, showing a picture of Britney Spears clad in low waist jeans, a black tank top and sure enough, a yellow bandanna.

“That’s perfect.”

Ymir smirked, smug. “Just like me.”

“Y/N!” Sasha shouted. “Go back to the Porco thing!”

“Oh, yeah. What did Oinky want?” The girls turned to face Y/N, who shrank a bit back in her seat.

“That’s a new one,” Y/N chuckled. “I thought of one last night, too,” She paued for dramatic effect. “Porker!” She gasped out, giggling, hitting the table in a slight fit of laughter. Sasha and Ymir gave Y/N a blank stare, unamused at Y/N’s mediocre roast.

“Not funny, didn’t laugh.” Sasha spat.

“If your career was stand up you’d be living in a box.” Ymir deadpanned.

“Tough crowd,” Y/N sighed, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “But if you must know…” She purposely stalled a bit, knowing it would send an impatient, jittery Sasha over the edge and annoy Ymir even more, even if she pretended she was not interested in the relationship drama between Y/N and her disgraced ex.

“Just say it already!” Sasha begged.

“I…don’t know. I haven’t responded.” Y/N finally admitted, putting her head in her hands. “I just-“ Her words were muffled by her hands.

Ymir removed her hands from her face. “Your words, darling.” She scolded, voice oozing sarcasm.

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned. “I’m too pussy to respond. He just asked if we could talk. What could he possibly want? What if he wants the couch? It’s just too much.”

Sasha gave her a sympathetic gaze. “Just leave him on read! If he wants to talk so badly he’ll find a way to say what he needs to.”

“For once, I agree.” Ymir added.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Y/N stretched. “But it did keep me up at night wondering what he wanted.”

“Y/N, forget him! Historia’s party is soon, there’s no time to worry about ugly men!” Sasha stood up, rushing to put her bowl in the sink. “I got a lecture in a few, but you need to find your costume! We’re all going as Britney!” She said before disappearing into her room.

“Um, who’s gonna tell her we’re not all dressing as Britney?” Ymir inquired.

Y/N snorted. “Not I. I’m probably going as Suki from Fast and the Furious.”

“Niiceee,” Ymir fist pumped Y/N. “She was my sexual awakening.” Y/N choked on her muffin.

“Ymir, what’d we say about uncalled for horniness?” Y/N reprimanded. Ymir made her way to the coat rack, searching for her car keys in her leather jacket’s pocket.

“If I was gonna be chewed out for liking women I would’ve lived with my parents!” Ymir called out. “I gotta pick up Historia!”

“Will you be back?” Y/N shouted back.

“Get off my dick!” Ymir shut the door. Laughing to herself, Y/N picked up Ymir’s dish to place in the sink. She was, out of the three, the more tidier one. Ymir did the best cleaning, but she was selectively lazy.

“Bye, Y/N!” Sasha shouted before leaving in a rush. One thing Y/N had grown used to was the fairly chaotic mornings. She secretly hoped they would be like this for a long time.

Since Y/N had transferred, Ymir and Sasha had been the best roommates she could ask for. Yes, Ymir was snappy and Sasha was a bit ditzy, but it was the perfect combination and they were respectful. Y/N had transferred from Sina University purely for academic reasons, but she had not expected to fit in so well with the girls or their group of pre establish friends. She worried she would not fit in since they had already been so tight-knit, but found that wasn’t the case at all. They were open, accepting and loyal. Y/N couldn’t be happier where she was, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was grateful for how close they had all gotten in their short time together. Who knew randomly assigned rooming would provide her with friendship to last a lifetime?

Which is why every time she thought about Porco she kicked herself. How could she have let some… meathead ruin her freshmen year of college? She should have been having fun, interacting with Ymir and Sasha’s friends more, lived her own life. But no, she chose to become involved with a self absorbed fraternity guy of all people. Now she was semi-heartbroken, extremely humiliated, and about a year’s worth of time and effort short. She had allowed him to take advantage of her so much, that he felt he could contact her still after basically using her. The thought made her want to rip her hair out and scream.

Almost as if through divine intervention, her phone beeped with a notification.

What the actual hell? Y/N thought.

She froze for a second. What does she do? Respond? Ignore? Block?

After a few seconds of mental deliberation, Y/N finally decided. She was fed up with the lack of bravery she showed and decided to just end it once and for all. Typing out a response, she clicked send and decided to go to the mall for the retail therapy she was sure to need after whatever Porco said what he wanted to say. Turning the shower on, she braced herself for his response. What could Porco want? She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

This better be good, Y/N thought.

taglist : @tsunderehokage @lagrimasdeglitter @snowyseungs @mukeovernetflix @bakugouswh0r3 @punicorn999 @deadlyaffairs @usernamehere91 @calumsfringe

a/n: woohoo!! long chapter. so to recap: i graduated!! i am finally free from the clutches of high school. i might do a face reveal :) bc i loved my grad dress. anywho, my fever cleared up, i have chapter 9 already completed (just need to revise + edit) and this is NOT proof read!! it’s 2 am guys i’m tired. but i hope you enjoyed this :) sorry for the weird cropping too. peace out

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 1

Alright everyone here is the first chapter of the series. Apologies for the delay, I had a lot of editing to do. I hope you enjoy it!

@mqgriett

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 3440

Warnings: Amnesia like stuff. Language. Bad Batch SPOILERS: DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE TV SERIES!

It’s odd how quickly things change on the battlefield. This kind of change you never expected. You and the Bad Batch met about a year after the war started and with your sharpshooting and other combat skills, Hunter offered that you join their team. You got along with most of the group very quickly, with the exception of Crosshair. Over time, after a lot of sneers and eye rolling, the two of you grew closer. After a particularly grueling mission, both of you admitted how you felt and now the two of you barely went anywhere without the other. You were the perfect duo, with both of your skills combined, missions went without a hitch almost every time.

The group had been called to the planet Kaller to assist Master Billaba. Her padawan, Caleb, you believed his name was, led you and the boys to his master. That’s when it happened… that change, the shift in the air. The troops turned on the Jedi and fired on her. Order 66. Caleb bolted, running off into the woods, sliding down hills with a certain hatred in his eyes that you had never seen in someone so young, so… innocent. You, Hunter, and Crosshair ran after him. The woods were so peaceful compared to the chaos everywhere else.

It was quiet and Caleb seemed to disappear. You looked around and saw him in the trees. “Hunter, Crosshair, I found him.” While Hunter tries to convince the kid to come down, Crosshair aims at the kid. “Crosshair no!” You tackle him down into the snow.

Caleb runs off, Hunter yells out, “Crosshair, what are you doing?”

“Following orders. Get off me Y/n.” Crosshair shoves you off him before getting up.

You follow him, an angry look on your face. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I’m following my orders. We need to find that Jedi.” The man walks off, you tailing behind him.

“Crosshair, we don’t even know what the order is.” You grab his hand, “Just wait until we know what’s happening.”

He turns his head towards you before scoffing, “Fine.”

Good soldiers follow orders. Crosshair mumbled that before Hunter sent you back with the others. When all of you got back to the ship, Tech explained that all the clones had been ordered to execute the Jedi. Saying that they committed treason and tried to kill the Chancellor. The war was just somehow over. None of it made any sense. According to the sergeant, Caleb died in a fall. You all got ordered back to Kamino, offloading and heading to your barracks.

“Hunter let that Jedi kid escape, or do you want to keep lying?” Crosshair sneered.

Hunter gets up, “I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as an objective.”

“An order is an order, Hunter.”

“Since when Cross? You’ve never been one to follow orders, why are you starting now.” You raise your voice to the two men. Everyone goes quiet.

“Don’t act noble y/n, you’re as much to blame as Hunter is for letting that Jedi escape. I could have gotten him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“He was a child!” You walk up to him, glaring into his eyes.

“He was a traitor!” Crosshair pushes you back before continuing to clean his weapon.

You speak up after a while. “This doesn’t make any sense. General Billaba and her battalion have been in numerous battles, serving alongside each other for years.”

Echo speaks up this time, “How could they turn on her like that?”

“Because of the regs programming. It’s been documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the functions of clones to engineer them to follow orders without any question” Tech explains. “They manipulated everything, Crosshair’s sharpshooting and Hunter’s enhanced sense. And of course my exceptional mind. I assume that we are immune,” Tech glances at Crosshair. “at least, most of us.”

All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic.

--

You felt so out of place in the staging area, surrounded by clones that felt off to you. Their mannerisms were different, more robotic. You were drawn back at attention when Chancellor- no Emperor Palpatine began speaking.

....And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed. But I assure you. My resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability…

… the Republic will be reorganized… into the first Galactic Empire!

“Galactic Empire?” You look over to your team in confusion. Sudden cheers ripple across the room, the other clones celebrating like it's the greatest thing in the world.

--

Tech and Wrecker were arguing at the table. You kept looking at Crosshair, he was acting odd, well more that usual. He’s still acting like a prick, so that’s a good sign. He let you sit next to him, so that was good too. But he kept rubbing his head, like he had a migraine of some kind… so odd. You nudged his thigh.

“Are you feeling well, Cross? You look sick.”

“Thanks for the compliment, y/n.”

“You know what I mean... tell me what’s going on.”

“Just a migraine, don’t worry about it.”

“An Imperial’s been sent to evaluate the clones.” Hunter speaks as he sits down.

“What kind of evaluation?”

“Hopefully not mental. Clearly we’d never pass that… well, maybe y/n could.” Tech nods his head to you.

“Oh I doubt it, with all the stuff we’ve been through together, I’d probably fail.” You take a sip of your water before something catches your eye.

Omega shifts awkwardly, “Hello again. Omega. From earlier?.... in the corridor.”

“Yeah, kid. We remember.” Hunter raised his eyebrow at the child.

Hunter was about to ask about the kids parents before a couple regs interrupted. “Check it out. The defect squad’s got themselves a recruit.” Before you can react, Omega throws her food at the clone. Hunter tries to diffuse the situation, but you didn’t get your throw in so you grab your tray.

“Y/n, don’t.” Crosshair attempts to grab your wrist but just misses you.

“Don’t worry, Cross. I won’t miss.” You wink at him.

“Hey Wrecker, let's show the kid how it’s done, yeah?” You aim before to throw the tray at the clone. “Oops, my hand must’ve… slipped.”

All hell breaks loose and punches are thrown. Echo got knocked out, when the boys got up to go get him, you walked by Crosshair. Here goes nothing.

“Crosshair?”

“Hm? What is it?”

You grab his hand and pull him into a hall. “What happened on Kaller? Tell me what happened.”

“I told you, it’s just-”

“Why are you lying to me?” You pull his hand, drawing him closer.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, it’s you all. You’re the ones who refused to carry out the order.”

“An order to kill a child, Crosshair.”

“That child was a traitor to the Empire.”

“But a child nonetheless.” You retort.

“You don’t understand, none of you do. Just drop it.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Crosshair, you’re worrying me.”

The man looks down at you, he looks so lost. “There is nothing wrong. I promised I would never lie to you when I proposed.” He tugs at the delicate chain around your neck, fiddling with the ring that he gave you just weeks before.

You look at him, skeptical, “And you’ll tell me if something is wrong? Cross your heart?”

His lips tilt up, “Cross my heart.”

--

Echo told you all about Tarkin. When you all started heading towards the training facility, the shock troopers stopped you.

“Y/n L/n? Admiral Tarkin has asked you to sit out of this battle simulation.”

You furrow your brows, “He’s asking me to not train with my team?” You look at Hunter and shrug, “I’ll be watching, I guess… Be careful, something doesn’t feel right.”

Wrecker speaks up, “Oh don’t worry Y/n, we’ll be fine!”

When you arrive at the observation deck, you are greeted by Lama Su and who you assume is Admiral Tarkin.

“Ms. L/n.” The prime minister greets you in a monotone voice.

“Prime Minister, may I-” you were interrupted by Tarkin.

“We can dismiss formalities, begin the simulation. Ms. L/n, you will be answering some questions for me.”

“....Of course, Admiral” You stand next to the man, watching the boys go through the course.

“What is your opinion of this team, L/n?”

“My opinion, sir? Well they are the best group I have worked with. Their skills are the most impressive I’ve seen.” You speak as you watch Crosshair take out the tower cannons. Wrecker is having the time of his life by the looks of things. So far so good.

“Switch to live fire.” Your blood runs cold, live fire? What is going on here? You watch the new droids take their place down below, Wrecker got hit and you tensed, unaware that Tarkin noticed your worry.

“And what of your relationship with these clones?”

“My relationship sir?” Your eyes catch onto Crosshair in the tower, moving to run out the door when he almost falls from the tower. Tarkin didn’t miss that either. He turned his head to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Surely you’re aware that relationships within the military are forbidden, especially with these… clones.” The bile in his tone made you sick, you wanted to punch him.

“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting Admiral, but I can assure you that my relationship with my team is strictly as comrades.”

“I’m sure of it then. I will be sending Clone Force 99 on a mission. I ask that you stay in Kamino during that time. And one more thing.” Tarkin turns to you. “Did your team carry out Order 66?”

You grit your teeth, “Yes sir, the death of the general and her padawan were confirmed, was that not clear to you?”

“Only the death of General Billaba was confirmed, a counter report was filed by one of your own says otherwise.” Tarkin turns and walks out. “That will be all Ms. L/n, you are dismissed.”

Once Tarkin was out of sight, you ran back to the barracks. You rush in, seeing the boys, frustrated looks on their face. “Who’s that Imperial bastard think he is?!”

Echo turns, “Y/n! Are you alright? What happened?”

“He questioned me about you guys. Asked of my opinion… and of my relationship with you all…”

“That bastard,” Echo clenches his fist, “He knows everything about everyone. He’s got it out for us.”

You look at Crosshair, “Tarkin said that one of us filed a counter-”

The door slides open and the devil himself walks through, “That was quite an impressive display, Nala Se claims that you are all more capable than an army.”

Hunter steps forward, “You have a mission for us, sir?”

“Yes, a group of insurgents in the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with. Unfortunately, Ms. L/n will not be able to join you. She will be staying here on Kamino while you complete this task.”

--

You help Tech load the last bit of supplies on the ship. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll stay in the barracks until you come back.”

“It shouldn’t take us long. If everything goes according to plan that is.” Tech says.

You smile and walk down the ramp.

“Y/n.” Crosshair calls you over.

“Yes Cross?”

He takes your hand and runs his fingers over your wrist, avoiding your eyes. “There’s something-”

“Crosshair! Let’s go!”

He looks back at you, apologizing. You squeeze his hand, “It’s okay Crosshair, we can talk about it when you come back.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. “ Be careful, okay.”

“Okay, y/n.” He pressed his lips to your temple before climbing up the ramp. They take off and you turn around, finding Omega behind you.

“Hey, uh, Omega right?”

“Yeah! And you’re y/n.” You can’t help but notice the worry in her features.

“Is something wrong?” You lean closer when the child just nods

“Kamino isn’t safe anymore, we need to get out of here. Something is going to happen, I just don’t know what. But the boys aren’t safe here.”

You kneel to her height, “Okay, I believe you. Something has been off ever since the order was declared. Keep quiet for now, okay. When the boys come back, we’ll figure something out.” Omega nods and runs off to Nala Se.

--

“Y/n!” Omega rushes into the barracks.

“Omega! What are you doing here?” You walk up and close the door. “Oh hey AZI.”

-“Ms. L/n. Omega, Nala Se instructed us to stay in the medical wing.”

“You guys can stay, think of it as a research assignment.” You smile at the girl.

Omega and AZI are looking around the barracks when troopers come to the door.

“You are not authorized to be here.”

You speak up, “Omega is fine, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

The trooper turns to his partner, “Pack up their gear and take it to the hangar. You two, you’re coming with me.”

“We’ve done nothing wrong, and you are not touching our stuff. Back off!”

The troopers grab you and Omega.

“Let go of her!” You struggle against his grip, then everything goes black.

--

You groan and open your eyes.

“Y/n! Are you okay? They hit you a-and then threw us here!”

You grab Omega’s hand. “Slow down, I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to stay calm okay?”

The door slid open, revealing the batch, they were missing their armor. “Guys!”

“Y/n, what happened?” Hunter helps you off the ground. Crosshair just rubbed his head and walked to a corner.

“I don’t know, they just threw us in here.” You rub your head. “What are you guys doing here, what happened to the insurgents?”

Hunter pauses, “They weren’t droids, they were people. There were children and elderly. We didn’t hurt them.”

From the corner, Crosshair interjects, “Because Hunter went soft, he had us disobey orders.”

“What? Crosshair, they were living people.” You look at him, confused.

“We’re locked in here because of him. First the padawan, then Gerrera. You’re becoming a liability, Sergeant.”

“Enough.” Everyone looks at you, “None of this is helping us get the hell out of here.”

--

After Omega spoke to your fiance, you quietly sit next to him. “Crosshair, I know you’re the one who filed the report.”

“How smart you are, y/n.”

“You don’t have to do this. You would never do this.” You're interrupted by the man that threw you in here.

“CT-9904, you’re coming with us.”

Hunter jumps up, “Oh, no, no, no. We stay together”

“Stand down!”

“Crosshair!”

“I said stand down!” The trooper shoves you back into the cell.

--

As Crosshair puts on his armor, he notices a chain with a ring around his neck. He doesn’t remember who or what it’s for. Help me, please. Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt y/n.

Tarkin approaches him, “CT-9904, the prisoners have escaped from the brig. Make sure they don’t leave this planet.”

Crosshair tucks his helmet under his arm. “Yes, sir.” Good soldiers follow orders.

--

You tighten your hand in Omega’s as you run through the halls to get to the hangar.

“All right, this way. Let’s make this quick.”

Tech runs to power up the ship, and the hangar door opens.

You tighten the grip on your rifle, “Omega, get down. Do not get up until Hunter says so, okay?” You look up and see him.

“Crosshair, it’s me. I-”

“Crosshair?”

“Best stand down, Sergeant.” His eyes flit over to you. “You as well.”

“Lower your weapon.”

“Y/n” Hunter looks at you. You nod and raise your rifle.

“I can’t do that Crosshair. I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

One of the troopers fire, blaster shots flying everywhere.

“Omega, go!” You yell out. You glance back and see Crosshair take aim at Hunter. A shot fires, knocking the rifle out of his hands. Omega. You take aim at his rifle when he tries to grab it again and fire. Crosshair shoots up as you run to the ramp, grabbing Omega and throwing her inside. Crosshair kept firing with his pistol, you returned fire, but did not hit him. You couldn't hurt him.

--

After the Marauder got into hyperspace, you sat down in Crosshair's room, your shared room. You fiddle with the necklace when the door opens, revealing Omega.

“Hey, are you okay?” The mattress bends a little.

“Yes… no, I’m sad and confused.” You feel tears welling in your eyes but blink them away. Omega looks at your necklace and points at it.

“What’s that?”

You smile softly at her. “It’s an engagement ring.” You chuckle at the confused look on her face. “It’s something that a person gives to someone that they love so much, that they want to spend the rest of their life with them. Crosshair gave this to me.”

“So he loves you and you love him?” The girl scoots closer out of curiosity.

“I love him very very much. I miss him very much too.”

“How did you two meet?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You really want to know?” The girl nods enthusiastically. “Well, it’s actually a pretty funny story. Before I joined the batch, I lived off the grid. When the war started I joined a local militia on Batuu, I was a sniper like Crosshair. Kept innocents safe, took out droids. One day there was a larger group of Seperatist droids causing trouble, I got sent out to look around and take them out.” You look over at Omega and she nods. “Things didn’t go exactly as planned, and a couple of civilians got caught in the middle. A droid was about to take a shot and my rifle had jammed. So I just ran towards it and tackled it. At the same time, someone shot me in the leg. When I looked back, I saw Crosshair standing on a building, all tense. Well, he was grumpy that I blocked his shot and he carried me back to the ship. After I healed up, Hunter offered me a spot on the team. And I’ve been with them ever since.”

The girls eyes widen. “So you’re a sniper too? Can you teach me?”

“Teach you? What, to shoot?” You look at the girl in surprise.

“Yes! I want to help however I can. Can you teach me? Please?” Omega got on her knees and bounced on the bed.

“I’m not the best-” You sigh, “Okay, okay. We can ask Hunter tomorrow.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you!” Omega hugged you, smiling.

“Of course, why don’t you get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” You pat her head. “You can sleep in here until we set something up for you.”

“I’m not tired though.” She could barely hold her eyes open and she kept yawning.

“Sure you aren’t. Come on, bed time.” You pick the girl up and lay her in the bed across from you. You tucked the blanket around her and got up to leave, but she tugged on your hand. “Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“We’ll get Crosshair back, I know it.” She lets go and closes her eyes.

You crouch down and smile softly, “I know we will too, Omega.”

--

Crosshair sits on his bunk, staring at the necklace in his hands. He looks again at the engraving on the ring. O'r gai bal runi.

“What the hell does that mean?” He grumbles and turns the ring in his hand. I don’t remember why I have this. That women… y/n… she had the same ring around her neck. Who is she? Crosshair puts the necklace on the side table.

He rubs his head, furrowing his brows. Fight back! Fight back dammit! Get out of here!

“Shut up already…” Crosshair climbs into the bunk and stares at the ceiling before closing his eyes.

Everything hurts. NO! NO! Don’t let me hurt them again… I can’t hurt my brothers. I can’t hurt her. Y/n, y/n, please don’t leave me. HELP ME!

“Crosshair!” You shoot up from your bed, gasping for air. You look around wildly in the darkness. I heard him. I swear I heard him.

A small voice calls out, “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“I- Yeah, I’m alright, just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep Omega.”

You lie back down in your bed and grab your necklace, moving it around in your hand. We’ll find you Crosshair, we’ll bring you home.