#like yeah the long fall boots make sure you land on your feet but they dont stop me from being sent face first into a panel now do they

[reidsexual]

Reach

“Earth to Dick?” You wave your hand in front of his faraway expression, helping him get off his knees.

The movement helps snap Dick back to reality, his eyebrows raising and his mouth agape almost as if he’s realized something. He looks up into your direction and laughs awkwardly, accepting your hand whilst pushing himself off the floor.

“Is everything alright?” You ask, puzzled by his change in mood. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He assures you, flashing a smile that could fool most. “Besides, we got the job done.” He looks around, taking in the ruins of the building.

You had been assigned with Dick, Wonder Girl, and Beast Boy on a mission to stop a supervillain with psychic abilities. Made you wonder why they didn’t bring Miss Martian along.

“Sure…” You say, letting him off the hook for a moment. Just until you and your teammates get back to the base, that is.

“That was totally awesome! Did you see when she was trying to manipulate me into lasso-ing myself and I was like ‘No way, Jose!’ and threw her against the wall!” Cassie enthusiastically plays out the entire fight, with extra hand movements to boot.

“Totally badass.” Gar agrees, smiling ear to ear. “And I bet Dick thought so too.” He turns his head towards Dick’s direction, without a doubt seeking approval from the leader.

But Dick stays silent. His mind seems distant - closed off. He’s been like this since Wally’s death, and it wasn’t a secret to you that these missions he went on were merely distractions to cope with his own grief. Once those missions were over, he was alone again in his own mind.

Gar’s shoulders slump, and his smile slowly fades away. You put a hand on his shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “You all did well. I’m proud of you both.”

Hopefully that gets their spirits up.

Truth be told, you’d had quite a crush on Dick since the team’s been formed. When it was just you 6: Dick, Wally, Kaldur, Artemis, M’gann, and Conner. But it never lead to anything - and you were a fool to think so.

Besides, everyone’s moved on from their lives - why shouldn’t you?

You make it to the headquarters, but before Dick can make his first footsteps on the floor, you place a hand on his shoulder.

Dick turns around to meet your eye, an amused glint in his smile. “Didn’t know we were getting handsy now.”

“Funny.” You give him a quick and sarcastic smile, taking your hand off of him and crossing your arms against your chest. “But I’m not in the mood for jokes, Dick.”

“What are you in the mood for? Chinese takeout?” Dick suggests.

“No. A spar would actually be quite nice.” You can feel a flicker of a smile touch upon your features at the thought. “Like old times?” You add, trying not to sound like you crave the nostalgia.

For the first time this mission, you notice Dick’s teasing expression falter, his face falling. His eyes can’t seem to look anywhere but the ground. “Sure. Like old times.” He says, turning around and stepping foot in headquarters.

By the time you’ve showered and cleaned yourself up, Dick’s already at the training room - waiting for you.

The sight makes you panic by just a little bit. How long have you kept him waiting?

Dick stifles a laugh, almost as if reading your thoughts. “Relax, I just got here.” He says in a good-natured manner.

Rolling your eyes playfully, “Just wondering what’s got you so enthusiastic.” You banter back, stepping into the ring.

“What can I say? Nothing cheers me up like some good ‘ol’ training session.” He shrugs, tossing you a wooden stick that you catch without missing a beat.

“Mind if we share a chat while we’re at it?” You test the waters, positioning yourself into a fighting stance across from him.

“If you can focus.” Dick answers confidently, before you charge at him, striking your stick to the side of his neck before he effectively blocks it, repositions your weapon, nearly making you lose balance.

You do a cartwheel to land on your feet. Both arms stretched out as you crouch on the floor, sticks on each side.

“What was it you wanted to talk about again?” Dick asks in the middle of you launching a kick at him, which he catches with his free hand. While he’s distracted, you deliver a blow to his side with your elbow.

“How are you?” Seems to be the most appropriate way to start the conversation to you right now.

“Fighting an extremely athletic lady. You, on the other hand?” He jokes, and you can almost see a glimpse of the boyish Dick you used to know.

“Repeat that - but replace ‘lady’ with ‘gentleman.’”

“Flattered.”

Dick lands a devastating blow to your jaw, and you have to take a step back and wipe the blood off your lip.

His face morphs from playful and teasing to concerned and worried in less than a millisecond, instantly dropping his sticks and rushing forward to you.

“Are you okay? God, I didn’t think-” You sweep your leg under his, Dick falling back-first with a thump.

“Careful. Might change my mind about you being a gentleman. Might change it to little rascal instead.” You say, reaching your hand out to help Dick as he sits up and rubs his hand behind his neck.

“Never-”

“Lose focus when attacking your opponent. Taught you that our first training session alone.” Dick finishes your sentence for you. His delivery, so lighthearted and playful - can’t even mask the bittersweet undertone in his words.

“Do you ever miss those days?” You ask without thinking.

“My days as Robin?”

“I mean those days of fresh experience. Back when being a superhero felt like playing a video game instead of a world of hurt on your shoulders.” You explain hesitantly, taking a seat on the ground next to him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow and you can feel him stare at you intently as you are the one now struggling to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey.” He cups your face in both his hands, softly guiding your face to meet his gaze.

“Where’s this coming from?” He asks quietly. You’re only now realizing how intimate this all looks - your faces just inches apart, you could count all of his eyelashes if you wanted to.

Dick Grayson. Why always be there for others when you can’t even be there for yourself?

You grab both his wrists and set his hands on his lap, immediately regretting the action at the loss of his warmth. “This isn’t about me.” You can hear the annoyance seeping in your voice, you hate it. But how can he be so oblivious?

“This is about you.” You point a finger at his chest, before dropping it and sighing. “I mean, what’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?“ He repeats, sounding equal amounts offended and confused.

“Yes! You’ve been acting so differently as of late and-”

“And it’s nothing you have to worry about.” Dick interrupts, his gaze cold as opposed to his warmth of his touch.

“Will you stop interrupting me?” You huff, annoyed. Standing up from the ground, you dust off imaginary dirt on your clothes.

Combing a hand through your hair, you try to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that you shouldn’t lose patience with someone grieving. But it’s so hard when you are too.

“And will you stop worrying?” Dick stands up to the ground, his height towering over you.

“You’ve noticed?” You scoff, sounding childish even in your own ears.

“Oh, I’ve noticed! I notice everything about you, come on!” He’s almost shouting now - you’re not used to Dick losing his temper, especially not with you.

“Why are you so pissed about a friend caring for you?” Your voice cracks at the word ‘friend’ because you’re not even sure if he considers you one with the way he’s talking to you right now.

Sweat drips down the side of his forearm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the heat of your argument or the intense sparring session earlier. But either way, you can feel yourself start to get heat up over the whole ordeal too.

“I’m not mad that you care.” He says pleadingly, his voice calmer now, but the anger still appears. “I’m upset that you treat me like glass. That I’m fragile. That I have to prove myself all over again to show you that I can handle things on my own.”

The way he looks at you, you can tell he’s at battle with his own thoughts. Between desperately trying to convince you he’s fine, and wanting to give into your help and tell you he’s not.

“Nobody’s invulnerable, Dick.” You take a step closer, your frustration simmering down. “And you’re one of the most capable people I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice when you need support by your side.” You take his hand in yours, reassuring him, as a friend. As a friend.

Dick looks at you at loss for words. It’s like he’s asking you what’s the right thing to say, the right thing to feel.

“It’s been tough, I can admit that.” He says somberly, taking his hand out of yours in a way that makes you pretend it didn’t hurt. “But that’s what comes with saving the world. That’s the price there is to pay for.”

You’ve always known that Dick’s life revolved around bettering others. It’s been his life since he was a kid - from performing for others entertainment, to fighting crime for others safety. It’s all he’s known.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t reach out.” You whisper, trying one more time. For someone who doesn’t want to be Batman, he sure is good at avoiding others from seeing his true emotions.

Dick turns his back on you and grabs the sticks on the ground. “I came here because I thought I could shut my mind off. Focus on things that made me forget about work.”

“I guess we’re both disappointed then.” You say in a soft voice, careful not to let it crack.

And with that, Dick’s shadow disappears in the corridors. Leaving you alone in the training room with nothing but wooden sticks for you to reach for.

(hey guys!!! this is my first time writing anything, like, EVER. so if I made any mistakes, please lmk and I do apologize if the portrayal of dick isn’t accurate or if some of the dialogue feels cringy and unnatural)

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy (3)

Previous | Next Last chapter, Steve fell through time from 1986 to land at Eddie's feet in 1984, patting him down for injuries, and asking for a ride to Dustin's place.

Chapter 3: A Sound of Thunder

Before anyone can speak to Steve’s insane declaration that he’s a time traveller a short curvy woman appears behind Dustin with a warm smile. In the open entranceway of her home, her face is round and welcoming with lovely blonde waves that fall to her shoulders. “Dusty, are these your friends? It’s Steve, right? You’re dating Mike’s sister?”

Steve’s back straightens and Eddie snickers, wondering if this is Preppy Steve returning from under the rugged version that had appeared on his trailer floor.

“Mrs Henderson, it’s good to see you. Yeah, I know the kids and I have a science question for Dustin.” He unleashes the full Harrington smile, which Eddie has to admit is somewhat charming. “He’s so smart, I just knew he’d be able to help me out.”

Mrs Henderson beams and shoos them through the door with a beckoning hand, “Of course, my Dusty is very clever. Mr Clarke—that’s his science teacher—always says that he has the most unique questions in class. Come in, come in.”

Eddie looks curiously around the wide entranceway that curves into the living area and sees that his initial impression of a hobbit home continues. The inside is tidy and orderly with furnishings in earthy tones and photos scattered across the walls full of smiling people. It’s warm and inviting, Eddie thinks, much like Mrs Henderson.

However, even she falters as she finally gets a clear look at Steve, gaze flickering between mud-flecked combat boots up to the dirt-smudged around his face. He smells faintly like gasoline too, if Eddie’s being honest, so he can understand her hesitation.

He leans over, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder who jerks slightly before relaxing into his hold. “We’re just coming back from a camping workshop; you know, crawling through the under-bushes and whatnot. Steve has a question about…” Eddie scrambles to think of what one finds at a camping site, but Steve smoothly jumps in. “An animal we found,” he says, smiling. “We’re not sure if it’s a marsupial or not.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs Henderson shakes off the frown that had started to form and walks ahead, clearly expecting them to follow. Steve makes wide eyes at Dustin who just shakes his head at the older boy, not understanding his wordless message.

Eddie leans across Steve’s chest, his arm still draped around his shoulders, and says quietly, “I think he wants to have this talk in private.”

“Ohhhh,” Dustin says noisily and with no hint of tact.

Steve turns to Eddie, shooting him a covert look of disbelief with a scoff and, for a moment, time stops around him. Arrested by the familiarity and comradery in Steve’s dark eyes, Eddie can only stare. It’s an expression that speaks of a personal connection between the two of them that he has no point of reference for. It’s strange and oddly tempting.

Steve’s gaze sharpens and his mouth opens, but whatever he’s going to say is lost as Dustin loudly interrupts to inform his mom that they’re going to talk in his room instead. Eddie lets his arm drop heavily away as he follows Steve’s retreating shoulders into the deep of the house.

In Dustin’s bedroom, autumnal sunlight pours through long, narrow windows high up the walls and the warm yellows and browns of Mrs Henderson’s design continue to shine through.

However, the kid has put his own spin on it with a working space dedicated to science and science fiction: scattered across it are half-open wires and batteries of all sizes with a scenic-looking ant farm, resting against a silver ham radio are two black walkie talkies, and a R2-D2 sits in the middle of an empty terrarium.

An orange and white cat is curled on the pillow of his bed, but it shoots Eddie a dirty look and saunters away after he collapses onto the single mattress, arms propping him up from behind and feeling the intense need for popcorn to watch this unfolding train wreck.

The sunlight streaming into the room kisses Steve’s hair, making him almost glow as he paces in the short space.

Dustin frowns over at Eddie’s relaxed form, “Who’s he?” Eddie blithely grins back, finding it hard to be concerned in the face of a ridiculous claim like time travel.

However, his smile briefly dips as he remembers the pained gravity in Steve’s voice as he said it hasn’t happened yet and not the right place or the right… time, Eddie belatedly fills in for Steve. Not the right place or time.

Steve throws a careless hand between them, seemingly impatient now that he’s closer to talking about the root of his issue. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, Dustin. Now that you’ve been properly introduced, can we circle back to my problem? I’m not from around here.”

“You’re a time traveller,” Dustin repeats doubtfully with a hint of scorn.

“Hey,” Steve points a finger at him, “Don’t take that tone. I’m not out of my mind; I’m from 1986 and this is…” He glances towards the bed for confirmation, “1984?”

Eddie nods, but even as he wonders why he’s entertaining Steve a part of him can see the edge of uncertainty, of vulnerability, to him when he’d looked at Eddie. He thinks that maybe Steve is not as okay as he appears.

Dustin darts a glance at the bed before leaning closer to Steve and hissing in a whisper audible across the room, “Code Red?”

Steve nods grimly, “Code Red. I was coming out of the Upside Down in ’86 and I landed in Eddie’s trailer in ’84.”

Code Red seems to be important to Dustin because the kid looks more willing to believe Steve now, but he still hesitates. “And you’re not just…” Dustin waves a hand to encompass Steve and his party reputation, “I don’t know, drunk or something.”

Eddie barks out a laugh despite himself, “That’s what I said, kid.”

Dustin narrows his eyes at the moniker but is distracted when Steve huffs, crossing his arms and looking like he wouldn’t mind following it with a stamp of his foot. The frustration on his face is a little cute. “I’m not high. I’m not drunk. I’m in an Upside Down situation and you have to tell me how I can get back to where I’m supposed to be.”

Dustin squawks, “I’m not H.G. Wells, Steve. I don’t have a time machine in my basement, ready for you to go on a little trip back to the future. Wait.” He holds up a hand that is surprisingly commanding for someone so small, “Did you say you were in the Upside Down? Like Will last year? Easy then. If you came through a portal, then you just have to go right back through it. Bada boom.”

“Easy he says,” Steve mutters, pacing away before turning back to Dustin in irritation. “It’s not easy because the gate is gone. Vamoosed.” He shoots his hand up like it’s a rocket flying out of space. “Out of here. It’s supposed to be in Eddie’s trailer, but there’s nothing there.”

The two lock gazes and Eddie decides to interrupt before they start tearing each other’s hair out. “Did you say that other people had come in and out of this Upside Down? What about one of those?” He ventures while telling himself that playing along doesn’t mean that he believes this story.

It’s just that nervousness is starting to thrum so strongly in Steve that the air is almost palpable with it, and he doesn’t want Hawkins’ golden boy to completely lose his faculties.

“No,” Dustin sharply rebuts, “That would only mean he’s travelling through to the Upside Down in the present. They’re not time machines either.” He squints at Eddie again, turning to Steve to ask, “What’s so special about this guy’s place? Why’s a portal there.”

Eddie wouldn’t mind knowing why Steve chose his trailer of all places too and turns eager eyes to him. However, Steve barely opens his mouth before Dustin lets out a startlingly loud sound, hurrying forward to slap his palms against Steve’s mouth.

Steve recoils, dramatically spluttering, “Dude, gross.”

“Don’t say it!” Dustin shrieks. Eddie winces at the piercing tone.

“What?” Steve asks, looking as bewildered as Eddie feels at this abrupt about-face.

Dustin steps back to a low bookcase and pulls out a thin book with a yellow cover, on it is an icon of a half sun and moon with The Golden Apples of the Sun printed in bold black text underneath. He waves the book at the two of them as if that will make them catch up any quicker, “You’re going to step on a butterfly!”

Steve dutifully looks down at his feet and Eddie stifles a laugh, “I think he meant that metaphorically, big boy.”

Steve’s head whips towards him and an odd expression crosses his face before he reluctantly nods. Turning back to Dustin he says, “Use your words, man. What the hell are you going on about?”

“It’s a Ray Bradbury short story. This guy goes back in time, like all the way back to the Cretaceous period as a tourist, with a tour guide and everything. But he steps off the designated path and kills a butterfly and when he returns everything is different. One small change and the future is nothing like it was.”

Steve shrugs carelessly, doubt furrowing his brows, “Is that so bad? So, what, there were less butterflies or something when he returned.”

“No, Steve, it wasn’t just butterflies.” Dustin rolls his eyes, swatting the book through the air again as if waving away the thick fog he clearly thinks fills Steve’s head. “Before he went back in time, they had narrowly defeated a fascist who was trying to become president. But after that one minor change, the fascist wins and everyone’s acting differently. Who knows what you could do if you start telling us what happens in the future? You’d be stepping on butterflies left and right.”

Steve blinks rapidly, his face whitening to a chalky complexion, “This bad guy… he won because the time traveller changed a few small things? It was his fault?”

Dustin nods eagerly now that Steve’s getting it, “Directly his fault. They fall into a dystopia because the time traveller messed with the proper timeline, and it led to catastrophe!”

Steve wobbles, stepping back like he’s suddenly lost his footing. Eddie shoots forward to hastily grab him by the elbows, trying to stop Steve from falling on his ass. He gently shifts him over to sit on the bed and Steve falls heavily, looking down at his open palms for a long, silent minute.

Dustin raises his eyebrows in concern over Steve’s head to Eddie but Eddie just shrugs: this is their show, he’s just here as the ride and for the sad lack of popcorn.

Looking like he’s about to hurl, Steve finally speaks. “So… I can’t say or do anything or the worse outcome could happen. And I don’t have a way out of here either.” His voice is terribly hollow, vacant and distant like a cold star. “I’m stuck.”

The anxiety that had radiated from Steve has disappeared, but in its place is a tangible loneliness like a child abandoned in the middle of an empty field. It stirs unhappy memories, and greasy shame builds in Eddie’s chest. He shouldn’t be finding any amusement in Steve’s pain, whether it makes sense or not.

He reaches out a hand to Steve’s shoulder, jostling him in a friendly manner. “Hey, at least it’s only a couple of years. Lay low and before you know it, this will be all over.”

“Where?” Steve laughs without humour, still staring down at his hands. “Set myself up in Dustin’s basement? Sneak me 3-Muskateers and keep me like a pet.” He shoots his hand up to wave it in a frantic gesture at Dustin, “No, better yet, let’s rope your mother in. Just add me to Sunday dinners, please!”

“Mom’s roast is the best,” Dustin protests, more form than substance as he eyes Steve, obviously baffled about how to talk him down from his meltdown.

Eddie shoots the kid a warning look but Dustin blusters ahead, “But yeah, we could do that for a little while. It’s a very, very bad idea to introduce you to yourself in the present, so it’s not like you can stay in Loch Nora. That’s less a butterfly and more like a pterosaur.”

Steve’s anguish momentarily subsides in minor confusion and Eddie concurs. They both look up at Dustin blankly before he explains, “Flying dinosaurs. Jesus, what the hell do you study in high school?”

“Or you could stay at mine,” Eddie surprises himself by offering even as he hastens to add, “You know, just for the night or until this resolves itself. The trailer is small but maybe that portal will come back, and you can walk right through it back to your time?”

Eddie can already feel the guilt that will bury its hooks into his flesh if he leaves Steve to wander off today and later hears that he got in trouble or, worse, injured because he’s a little confused.

Steve blinks in surprise before a small smile graces his face, the lines between his brow softening slightly. “That’s really kind of you, Eddie. I think…” He turns to look at Dustin uncertainly, “I think it’s best if I stick around where the portal could reappear. Give it some time and, if it doesn’t, I’ll figure out what to do then.”

He ruffles his hair in a way that Eddie is quickly coming to recognise as a nervous gesture, “Maybe I’ll leave Hawkins after all. Get out of here and do my own thing.”

Eddie wonders why Steve sounds so sad as he says that. Isn’t the prospect of getting out of the hell that is small-town America a good thing? As soon as he gets that diploma, he’s out of here, only looking back because where Uncle Wayne is then Eddie will always circle around to. But only for short visits. Hawkins can suck his sweaty balls.

While Eddie has watched Steve, feeling helpless to do anything but bear witness to his distress, Dustin starts picking up energy in the background. Bouncing up and down on his toes, he mutters something before pouncing on the wireless radio on his desk.

“The guys are going to go insane,” he says, looking up with shining eyes. “I won’t say who or when, I promise. But this is going to blow their minds.”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm and he bolts off the bed, shooting forward to quickly pluck the black plastic out of Dustin’s hands, holding it above his head. “No,” he almost shouts, startling the younger boy with the energy behind it. “No, Dustin,” Steve says more quietly, although an urgent undercurrent still thrums through his words. “Nothing can change.”

Dustin regains his composure enough to scowl, glancing at the radio that Steve’s playing keep-away with, “I’m not going to change anything. It’ll just be a theoretical, and it’s not like you’ve told me about any future events. I’ll make it into a story,” he decides, obviously off the cuff and thinking that the short, unconvincing excuse will fool Steve.

His curls bob as he darts forward to take back the radio, but Steve dodges back, shooting him a dirty look and pitching it in a soft underhand throw to Eddie.

Surprised, Eddie fumbles the device but thankfully—when he inevitably drops it, and he does—it falls onto the soft covers of the bed rather than breaking to pieces on the floor.

“Steve,” Dustin whines, “It’ll just be this cool story that I make up. I won’t even use your name, relax.”

Steve shakes his head, a grave mien falling around him. He hunches over the younger boy, hands on his shoulders and deadly serious. “You don’t understand how important this is, Dustin. We won something. It was terrifying and it was hard, but we won.” Eddie shivers at the awful sincerity in Steve’s tone even as he continues. “You can’t say anything to the guys, not even the smallest hint.”

Dustin’s face crumples, Steve’s words starting to penetrate his resolve. Steve nods sympathetically as he sees that he’s getting through to him, “You’ve got to forget this ever happened and just… keep being you. You’re brilliant and I know how hard it is for you to let go of something when it’s a puzzle, but if you talk about this then maybe that is the butterfly and maybe we don’t win. Maybe…” He swallows hard, the sound audible across the room. “Maybe even more people die.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, momentarily stunned by even more, but he thinks that Dustin doesn’t notice the slip at the end of Steve’s speech because he only nods in defeat, mouth moving into an accepting grimace. “Okay,” he mutters.

Steve eyes him doubtfully, “Not Mike or Lucas or even Will. Never, ever even think of dropping hints in front of me. Just forget that today ever happened.”

The youth that shines through in Dustin’s short stature and baby-faced features falls away to a maturity that Eddie hates to see in someone so young. “I won’t say anything and I’ll try to forget this ever happened,” he promises.

Dustin’s lips firm suddenly in determination, “In fact, I can’t believe you, Steve. Trying to trick me with such a stupid prank. You really are a— a—” For once his voice fails him and Dustin lamely concludes, “A complete douchebag.”

Steve smiles down at him with pride, relief loosening the tightness in his shoulders. “That’s right. It’s 1984 and I am a complete and utter douchebag. Thanks, Dustin.” He tousles his hair over the baseball cap, a gesture that looks well-practised.

Dustin smacks his hand away with a scowl, youth returning to his features once more and Steve laughs lightly, stepping back. “Be good, you little butthead,” he says before departing without fanfare, striding away.

Yet, Eddie sees the pain that flashes over his face once his back is turned to Dustin. Steve swiftly exits and, in the hallway, he begins to thank Mrs Henderson, politely declining the offer of a snack before they leave.

Thinking about that expression, a bearing full of repressed anguish and responsibility, Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s stood rooted to the spot until Dustin interrupts.

“He’s not that bad,” he says to Eddie, lips pursed like he thinks he doesn’t want to follow after Steve. “He helped out with the Upside Down last year, but he didn’t have to. He’s just Mike’s older sister’s boyfriend. Jonathan told Will that he even helped kill a demogorgon with a nail bat.”

His smile is gap-toothed and sweet, “That’s pretty badass.”

Eddie doesn’t think that Dustin literally means Steve fought a demon lord from the infinite depths of the abyss, but he makes a note to ask Steve about it later anyway. He’s also reminded that Steve said this kid would join Hellfire in the future. Even that he’d like him. And Eddie thinks that maybe he can see why, because, for all of his loudness and tone, Dustin seems to have a big heart.

“I’ll look out for him,” Eddie promises while slightly exasperated at himself for once more allowing a rise of sympathy to push him to watch over Steve Harrington who, on a normal day, would be perfectly fine taking care of himself.

Saying his goodbyes, Eddie steps from the earthy warmness of the Henderson home out into the bright afternoon light, feeling like he’s crossed through a portal himself. As if those moments in Dustin’s bedroom were an event outside of his own space and time. He shakes his head against the fanciful thought, striding over to his van where Steve is leaning against it.

With his foot propped behind him and a pensive expression sitting heavily on his face, he looks like Marlon Brando about to broodingly ask Eddie for a light.

For a moment, Eddie indulges in the thought of leaning in with a flickering flame pressed to a cigarette hanging on Steve’s soft-looking lips. Wonders what he’d do if he leaned in slow and close, all big eyes and heavy lashes.

Eddie shakes his head again, waving away the thoughts like smoke in the air; now is not the time. Ha. He jerks his head at Steve to get into the van, “Come on, let’s go back to mine.”

Distracted, Steve turns and hoists himself up. Eddie flips the stereo off as they reverse out of the drive, letting silence fill the air as they barrel down the back streets of Hawkins. He figures that maybe Steve has a lot running through his head right now and the thunderous roar of Judas Priest may be a bit much for him.

“Are you sure this is okay? Me staying for a few days?” Steve suddenly asks, turning to watch Eddie intently. “You don’t exactly know me. We’re not friends or anything right now.”

Eddie feels a sharp sting like an unexpected prick from a sewing needle, drawing the tiniest drop of bright red blood. He frowns at the sensation. If he’d been asked two hours ago, then his swift evaluation of Steve and him would be that they are not friends.

But this Steve, Rugged Steve, he seems cool. He’s sort of funny, a little sweet, and has a swathe of emotions running so deeply under the surface that Eddie wants to know what else he’s hiding.

“What about in the future?” Eddie asks instead, “We friends then?” He glances over at Steve, but the front seat is empty.

Eddie slams his foot down, the squeal of the breaks echoing loudly on the empty road.

They had been driving at 40 miles per hour down an asphalt road. Either Eddie didn’t notice the obvious movement of Steve clambering into the back of the van (unlikely) or he opened the door, rolled out onto the road, and magically closed the door shut afterwards (very fucking unlikely).

Or Steve disappeared into thin air, Eddie thinks with a racing heart.

Urgently twisting, he confirms that the back of the van is empty with only an amp and a blanket taking up one lonely corner. Falling out of the driver's seat in his haste, he stares out at the silent road. He looks left, right, and behind him, even stupidly glances up to the top of the van as if Steve’s climbed up there like an escape artist that’s about to do jazz hands and call out ta-dah.

Steve disappeared in a moving vehicle, leaving no trace behind.

Like a motherfucking time traveller.

Eddie’s knees buckle and he falls against the van, the asphalt hitting his backside painfully.

It was true.

It was all true.

Steve was from the future and now… has he gone back? He supposes? At least Steve won’t be trapped in his past, Eddie reasons, trying to find the bright side to this bizarre twist. He won’t be stuck on Eddie’s couch before heading out to travel America like some lonely, honour-bound samurai.

And if Eddie feels a small pang at not getting a chance to know Steve more… well, that’s between him and the empty road, because there’s no way he can talk to Present Steve, as he suddenly decides to call him. In no normal world would Eddie ever approach the king at school, other than to heckle the jocks tossing balls into laundry baskets.

No, upsetting the natural order stinks of butterfly carcasses.

Yet the regret hangs with him as he eventually pulls himself off the dusty road and into the van, driving home. It keeps him wide-eyed and awake through the night, thinking about what ifs.

The pang drives in a little harder as he spots Steve in the halls of Hawkins High; they even have history class together today and Eddie sees that, yes, he is assigned the seat directly in front of Steve.

He can’t help but look at him anytime their paths cross; Eddie once again the metal filling to Steve’s lodestone, a magnetic draw that he tries to keep hidden as he covertly stares. He sees it now too, that this Steve looks younger and smaller.

Maybe it had been the leather jacket and boots that Future Steve was wearing, but his shoulders had seemed broader and legs longer. Perhaps it was the grime around Steve’s face, but Eddie thinks that he loses some of that baby fat around his jaw in the next two years, becoming more defined.

He sees Steve one last time at the end of the day, sneaking up on Nancy Wheeler before grabbing her from behind with a cute little shout. Nancy laughs but Eddie thinks her heart’s not quite in it, her smile fading quickly as she turns back to her locker, grabbing the rest of her books.

Steve’s smile dips for a moment before he shrugs it off, moving to gently take the heavy bag from her. He catches Eddie’s eyes as he turns and stops to cooly raise a brow as if daring Eddie to comment.

That’s right, Eddie reminds himself around the pang, not friends.

He blindly turns, heart beating faster than the moment warrants and strides away. But it’s all so confusing and yesterday has become a moment in his life defined by before and after Steve. As if once Steve landed, groaning into his living room carpet, Eddie had become a different person.

He feels like that in those lost minutes yesterday he had started to make a friend. Someone interesting and possibly important to Eddie’s future, talking as if were an action hero, trying to save people in some unnamed war. But Eddie can’t discuss it with anyone; he knows he’ll be doing Dustin and Steve both a disservice if he goes back to talk to the kid.

He’s just going to have to swallow the awkwardness, Eddie decides, slamming the building’s door shut behind him to cross the parking lot.

He blocks out the sound of Steve’s laughter as he exits shortly after as well, closing his ears and stomping on any other fragment of unwanted feelings in his body.

He’ll see Steve when he sees him in the natural order of things. Until then, he’s persona non grata. Just a jock and Eddie will continue to be the freak.

No interaction whatsoever.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Tag list:

My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

[di-writes-stuff]

Evermore

Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Part 4

TW: Honestly nothing. This is just pure indulgent flirting. I figured you guys have put up with enough emo shit for a while.

It’s been almost ten hours since the three of you started walking this morning, and it doesn’t seem like you’re gonna stop soon. Your feet are aching in your boots, and it’s bad enough that Ellie is trailing behind you and Joel, when she normally walks a few paces ahead.

Everything is about the same as it has been, in fact, there’s a new kind of comfort between the three of you. Ever since you learned the truth about what Joel and Ellie are doing you’ve all found yourselves trusting each other a bit more.

Despite that, the three of you haven’t said a word for the past hour. The only sounds are the ground crunching beneath your feet, and heavy, slightly strained breathing. Your legs burn, even this slight incline whooping your ass after how long you’ve been walking.

Joel looks over at you, watching as you wipe sweat off your forehead, his eyes following your hand like a hawk as it trails down to the collar of your flannel. You undo one button, a sheen of sweat covering your neck and chest.

He tries to look away. He really does.

It doesn’t cross your mind that he might be watching, distracted by the strain in your whole body.

A bead of sweat falls from your chin, dripping down your chest, slowly approaching the collar of your shirt.

His eyes trail down, lower, too low.

He needs to look away.

He doesn’t.

Joel’s eyes flick up to your face when you hiss in pain, worry flashing across his eyes as he finally rips his gaze away.

“You alright?” He says, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s been caught, although he feels like he has.

You look up at him, smiling despite yourself when you see his face.

You’ve got it bad.

“Yeah, ankles still a little sore, that’s all. I’m fine, though.” You gesture to the ankle that was injured the first time you met Joel and Ellie. It feels so long ago now, but in reality, it’s only been around a month.

So long since you and Joel were strangers.

So long since you didn’t feel anything towards him.

Since you were ready, willing even, to hurt him.

The thought of it twists your stomach into knots, a small lump forming in your throat. You hadn’t realized just how much you started to care for him, but the thought keeps replaying in your head, the thought of what you might have done to him that night.

It terrifies you.

You snap out of it when Joel speaks to you again.

“Y/N?”

You look up, realizing he’d been talking to you.

“Huh?” You say stupidly, the concern in his eyes making your stomach flip.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wondering what has you so distracted. “I was just saying we can take a break, if you want.”

You shake your head, watching as his eyes scan your face, hoping you’re not too red.

“No, no. I’m okay.” You answer quickly, staring at him like an idiot, only looking down when you nearly fall, tripping over a tree root.

Dammit.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you feel Joel’s hands land on your arm and waist, steadying you.

You stand back up, giving Ellie a quick thumbs up when she asks if you’re okay, embarrassment flooding you when you look up and see Joel staring at you, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

He lets his hand fall from your arm.

The one on your waist stays.

Neither of you seem to mind.

“You sure your alright?” Joel asks teasingly.

You roll your eyes, your hand still resting on his arm, both of your hearts racing at the contact.

“Very funny. Maybe if you hadn’t distracted me.” You look up at him, embarrassment masked with annoyance plastered on your face.

He places his hand on the small of your back, starting to walk again.

He grins a little bit, his voice cocky when he replies “Maybe if you weren’t staring. Didn’t realize I was so distracting.”

You keep your eyes ahead, blush spreading across your face like a forest fire.

He laughs a bit, it’s charming and you love it. You hate it too. He finally lets his hand fall from your back, and it slips a bit lower than it was when he does.

It was a second.

Maybe less than that.

But the contact, the flirting, however mild, his smile, his laugh, his eyes, his hands on you, him.

You wanna scream.

You see him watching you out of the corner of your eye and you smirk.

“Who’s staring now?”

It’s his turn to stare ahead, and he nearly snaps his neck with how quick he looks away from you.

You laugh at his behavior, shaking your head as you wonder what exactly this is. Joel’s never been like this before. I mean, hes been sweet to you, there’s been little touches here and there. His hand on your arm a bit longer than it needs to be, stolen glances here and there, but nothing more.

But this…

It’s certainly more forward.

And it certainly has a different affect.

You turn around when you hear Ellie start to talk, assuming she’s gonna complain about how long you’ve been walking.

“Since when do you guys flirt so much?” She asks, a shit eating grin on her face as she teases the both of you.

Joel grimaces, looking away from you before responding to her.

“Since when do you eavesdrop on all our conversations?” He quips back.

You run a hand over your face, desperate to hide your blush.

“Not much else to do. Besides, it’s kinda entertaining, in an awkward, sorta embarrassing way. For you guys, I mean.”

You can practically feel the laughter Ellie’s holding back as she speaks. Her tone tells you everything you need to know.

Joel sighs, clearly given up with the mouthy teenager.

You groan, before looking back at her playfully.

“Oh can it, won’t you? Wasn’t like that anyway.”

That’s a loud of bull.

You all know it.

You say it anyway.

Ellie drops it, but not without a sarcastic “mhm” to follow.

You sigh, a silence settling over your little group. You look up at Joel, his gaze set straight ahead.

You do the same, forcing your eyes not to drift back to the man next to you.

……………………………………………………………………………………

After about half of hour more of walking, you finally call it quits for the day, setting up a fire and laying your bedrolls around it.

You find yourself in a familiar situation, sitting at the fire staring at Joel Miller. Ellie fell asleep shortly after you set up camp, leaving you and Joel alone.

Neither of you have said a word, and you’re starting to think neither of you will. It’s like whiplash, one moment the two of you are normal, and the next it’s back to this.

Utter and complete silence.

You would understand if you’d started it. Whatever this is turning into. But it was him. The teasing, the touches, all of it. It was him.

So why the hell did he seem so upset?

In reality, it had nothing to do with you. Well, it did. But it wasn’t directed at you. It was him. He was mad at himself. For starting something when he knows damn well he won’t go through with it. He can’t go through with it. He can flirt. He can tease. But, more than that?

You deserve more than that.

You deserve a better man than him.

A man without blood on his hands.

A man who knows how to handle love. Who can handle his own feelings. The feelings he tries so hard to deny exist.

You deserve love.

And Joel Miller isn’t a man who knows how to love. It’s been too long. He’s forgotten that art. Or at least he’s convinced himself he has.

Even Ellie, he cares about her, he protects her. He’d die for her. But he can’t bring himself to talk to her. To open up.

And you?

There’s a pit in his stomach every time he speaks to you. Not because he dislikes you, no, definitely not.

It’s the opposite. And to Joel, that’s worse. So. Much. Worse.

If he hated you it would be so much simpler. He wouldn’t have to think like this. You wouldn’t even exist to him.

But you do.

More than exist. You matter to him. He cares about you.

He likes you.

A lot.

“Joel?”

He looks up as you say his name, the crease between his eyebrows disappearing as he sees your face.

He clears his throat, sitting up a little taller.

“Yeah?”

You sigh, looking at him like he just said the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard.

“What’s your problem? You won’t even look at me.” You intended to sound annoyed, but it came off hurt, a bit pathetic, really.

“I-“ Joel sighs. “I’m sorry. For, earlier. You know, how I acted. I shouldn’t have- it was stupid. I was just, listen. You…I-“

You exhale loudly, holding back a smile as you realize what this is about.

“Joel. Just stop. You don’t have to be sorry. Hell, I don’t even know why your apologizing, but you don’t have to.” You cut him off, confused at his behavior.

He looks up at you, his eyes softening.

“I just…I shouldn’t have pushed it. This.”

This.

What the hell is this?

“This?” You question, and you both know what you’re asking. If this is more than it was yesterday. If he changed something.

He stays silent, looking down awkwardly.

“This doesn’t have to be anything. Not now. Not yet.”You say gently. You’re careful with your words, not wanting to suggest that it can’t ever be something.

Because deep down inside, you’re starting to think you want it to be.

Joel smiles at this, almost looking relieved.

“Thank you. For-I don’t know. Just..thank you.” He still stumbles over his words a bit, clearly not used to this. Neither of you really are.

You nod, debating whether or not to say want your thinking.

“Besides, I like this. It’s…it’s nice.”

He looks at you like you just told him the best news of his life.

You stand up, walking past him to your bedroll, letting your hand brush his shoulder as you do.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He stares into the fire for a little while longer, the heat from it pales in comparison to the burn the touch of your hand leaves behind.

Yeah, he likes this too.

A/N: This is totally self indulgent fluff tbh. So if anybody ends up reading this, we’ll be back to the regularly scheduled angst next chapter.

-di

[jungle-angel]

Warm As Can Be (Miles Miller x Reader)

Summary: You and Miles are excited as ever for Thanksgiving, your sons are both with his parents for the day and it leaves the both of you alone for just a little while

God the house smelled so good, the best it had in a long time since you and Miles had moved to his family's ranch in Montana. Thanksgiving had come at last and soon the entire family would convene on the land to spend the evening with you and Miles, leaving the two of you to deal with the chaos that was dinner prep.

"It's times like this I wish Dan was here," Miles said as you dumped a tablespoon of cinnamon into the pumpkin pie mix he had been stirring. "That man could command a kitchen like it was an army unit."

You laughed. "Well, him and Lucia will be up in a few days and so won't the others. George I heard closed the hotel for Thanksgiving so he and his family could go back to Texas to celebrate."

"Which is unfortunate for the travelers," Miles chuckled.

You heard the pattering of little feet entering the kitchen, only to find a yawning, half dressed Benny, clutching his stuffed puppy. "Momma, Dada, I need help," he chirped.

"C'mere honey," you told him.

You straightened out his little green turtleneck and fixed his overalls as best you could before Miles picked him up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Did Jesse wake up?" Miles asked him.

"No, baby still sleepy," Benny answered again.

"Alright, go get your shoes on for when Papa gets here," Miles told him.

Benny ran off to go and get his little boots on before Otis came in through the kitchen door. "Alright am I stayin here and helping you or bringing your ghouls back to the house?" Otis asked, stamping his boots off on the mat.

"Might wanna bring them back to the house for a bit," Miles answered. "As soon as we need help with the bird, do you mind coming back?"

"Not a problem," Otis said with a wave of his hand. "Your ma's making breakfast over at the house so maybe I'll take Benny and Jesse for a bit."

"You sure you can get down the path with them?"

"Yeah it's no big deal," Otis replied. "I remember when you were born I went trudging to your gram's house up the street with you tucked into my coat."

Otis gathered up Benny and Jesse, heading down the path to the farmhouse where Kathy was waiting. As soon as Miles saw his father going up the back steps of the porch with Jesse in his arms and Benny by his side, he turned his attention back to you.

"Looks like it's just us," you purred.

Miles hummed as he pulled you close to him, kissing you passionately before he switched on the radio on the counter. You and Miles danced as Vaughan Monroe's "Let It Snow" began to play, the snow outside falling hard, just the two of you enjoying your time together alone as dinner cooked away in the oven. You giggled a little as Miles littered your cheeks with sweet kisses, happy as ever to be in a home of your own and near the people you loved best.

[kusuguricafe]

Cloud 9 - Squealing Santa 2K22

A/N: Surprise surprise, @writingwitharlo! I'm your squealing santa this year!! I hope you're having a very happy holiday season and enjoy your gift ❤️💙

I was listening to my renga playlist as I was writing this and the second I finished, the palm tree song started playing. There truly couldn't have been better comedic timing.

Summary: Langa takes Reki on a snowboarding trip! After a long day of teaching Reki the slopes (like, ropes? get it?), the two go back to their log cabin to unwind. Reki's a little upset he's not getting the hang of it as quickly as when he taught Langa how to skateboard, but Langa finds a way to cheer him up!

Semi-inspired by this adorable renga comic

Word Count: ~1.2K

Characters: lee!Langa, ler!Reki ❄️⚙️

“Argh! Itatataa…”

“Reki! Daijoubu??”

“Yeah…”

“Yokatta… I think that’s enough for today. Want to go back to the cabin? I can make you some hot chocolate.”

“Sure. Thanks, Langa.”

Langa offered his hand and Reki cautiously took it, doing his best to stabilize himself as he attempted to stand back up. It’s so much easier to get up after wiping out on a skateboard—the damn thing isn’t stuck on your feet! He almost made it up, when the snowboard suddenly slipped out from under him, dragging them both back down. Langa landed firmly on top of Reki, knocking the wind out of the latter.

Langa chuckled and rolled off of Reki onto the packed snow. Reki didn’t move for a minute or so, still trying to catch his breath.

“S-sorry…” Reki managed to say.

“Don’t worry about it. You clearly got the rough end of that fall. Here, lemme help you take that off.”

Langa sat up and crawled over to Reki’s feet and removed the snowboard. Langa offered his hand once more and Reki reluctantly took it, avoiding eye contact.

“C’mon, let’s head back. I’ll carry this for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

Langa held the snowboard under his left arm and grabbed Reki’s left hand with his right. Reki was looking down at the snow, dejectedly. Langa gently pulled him along, back towards the cabin.

Once they arrived, Reki plopped himself down onto the couch and began taking off some of his heavier winter gear. Langa put the snowboard down, took off his boots and his jacket. Then, he went straight to the kitchen and started making some hot chocolate for Reki, just how he likes it.

After it was done, he went back to the living room to see a moping Reki. He sighed to himself, then walked over and placed the cute snowman mug full of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of him.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

Langa took a seat across from him. The two sat in silence for a couple minutes, Reki occasionally taking a sip.

“You did a great job out there,” Langa broke the silence. “Much improved from yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did! You only wiped out like twenty times instead of thirty!”

“I don’t need your sympathy. I know I suck.”

Langa paused. He never really knew what to do when Reki got like this.

“You don’t suck.”

“I do.”

“You really don—”

“Just drop it, okay? I don’t want to hear it.” Reki finally looked up just in time to see Langa’s countenance change from encouraging to mildly hurt. Oops.

“O-oh, I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

Now it was Reki’s turn to panic. Overwhelmed with emotion, he stood up and said, “I. Just give me a minute. I’m gonna go change.”

“Okay.”

Reki went to leave, came to a halt about halfway to the bedroom, turned back around, and went back to pick up his hot chocolate. Langa saw the mug disappear out of the corner of his eye. He smiled.

A few minutes later, Langa knocked on the bedroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Langa gingerly entered the bedroom. He saw Reki sitting on the bed in sweats, scrolling on his phone. Langa walked over and sat down next to him. Reki glanced in his direction, but that was all.

Langa started again, “You know, learning to skateboard after already knowing how to snowboard is like learning to drive a car after already knowing how to drive a semi truck. This is much more difficult.”

“Really?” Reki looked up from his phone in Langa’s direction.

“Yeah. Turning a snowboard requires very specific muscle control. It’s not intuitive at all.”

“That makes sense. I just thought I’d be able to get the hang of it faster. I guess it’s a lot harder than I thought.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Langa said, gently nudging Reki’s side with his elbow.

“EEK!” Reki squeaked, dropping his phone onto the bed.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Did I hit a bruise or something?”

“N-no, s’not that.” Reki looked away again.

“Hey! Stop doing that. I want to see your pretty eyes.” Langa grabbed Reki’s chin and pulled it towards him. Said pretty eyes widened in surprise.

“So what’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” Reki pouted.

Langa laughed. “You’re adorable, you know. Even when you’re repeatedly face planting in the snow.”

“L-Langa!”

“I’ve been so much happier after meeting you. You’re just the light I needed in my life.” Langa continued, still squishing Reki’s now bright red cheeks in his hand.

“Hah? Where is this coming from??”

“Just thinking out loud. Being around you is like having a little sun in my pocket. You’re so important to me. I, I lov—”

“STOP! P-please stop, I can’t take this,” Reki covered his eyes with his forearm.

“What did I just say about hiding your beautiful amber eyes from me!?”

Reki lowered his arm and began frantically looking around anywhere but Langa’s gaze. “I’m sorry!! I’m sorry, you were just looking at me so, so…!”

Langa interrupted him with a chaste kiss. He let go of his cheeks.

Reki gaped at him. Reki.exe has stopped working.

“Reki? Reki??” Langa waved his hand in front of Reki’s face. No reaction. He shook his shoulders gently. Reki blinked, closed his mouth, and shook his head.

“Wha… did you… did you just…?”

“Y-yeah, I hope that was okahAHAHAHAY!!”

Reki suddenly pounced, digging his fingers into Langa’s sides.

“Ahahahahaha! Reheheheki!! Whyhyhy!?”

Reki was blushing like mad. “You can’t just do that out of nowhere!!”

“Wh-why are you—AHAhahahaha nohohooo!”

Reki was digging into Langa’s tummy now. He quickly realized this was not helping his blush go down. Since when was Langa this ticklish?

“R-Reheheki! Pleheheeease wHA *snort* HAHAHA *snort* NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!”

Reki had begun drilling his thumbs into Langa’s hip bones.

“I-I’ve never heard you snort before!”

“Shuhuhut AHAha uhUHUP! S-stahahahahap!” Langa was blushing now, too.

“Where else are you ticklish? Here?” Reki squeezed the tops of Langa’s thighs experimentally.

“OHO MY GOHOHOHOD! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOO! NonONONO NOT THAHAAAAA!!”

Langa practically screeched as Reki reached the spot right above his knees. Reki reddened impossibly deeper at that. He let up.

“A-are you alright?”

“Yeheheeyeaha. Th-that’s just a really bad spot.”

“Are there worse!?”

Langa covered his face with his hands.

“There are??”

“Mahaybe…”

Seizing the opportunity, Reki reached up into Langa’s underarms.

“AAAAAAAAAHHAHAHA WAITWAITWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIT!!!”

“No way, did I actually find it?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!! REHEHEKI PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Langa screamed, yanking his arms back down in an attempt to protect himself. This, of course, revealed his bright pink face and tear stained cheeks.

Reki continued for a little while longer until Langa began pounding the bed with his fist, his laughter going silent. Langa laid there panting with his eyes closed. Reki leaned down and kissed him back.

Langa’s eyes shot back open, just in time to see Reki beaming down at him. Langa smiled back.

“...Sorry for making you worried earlier.” Reki said.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

Reki reached out his hand, which Langa gratefully took. He flung himself back up and wrapped his arms around Reki.

“I love you.”

“I… I love you too.”

[thosewickedlovelies]

#quick tell me ur theories on what's happening in this scene 

Well ok let’s see 🤔 Maybe Jack sees Javi needs some new gear and has him try out a new pair of boots and spurs. Maybe Javi stumbles a bit after a few steps. Maybe Jack catches him, sits him down. Gives him a once over to make sure he’s good. Maybe Jack says something like “Well here’s the problem. Your spur’s loose.” Maybe he gently but firmly puts his hand on Javi’s knee with a “No no, you stay right there big boy, I got ya.” And maybe there’s a Lot of intense eye contact while he’s fixing that boot against his chest. Like idk maybe 🤔🤔

🩵 Pat 😅

@patternedlantern, my darling, my beloved. Anything could be happening here, u know? Like idk maybe 👀

The boots are clunky, clumsy. Javi feels like a newborn foal, stumbling about. The new metal feature on his boots is unfamiliar, a strange weight over his ankles and hanging on his heels. Right at his Achilles tendon.

An uneven board catches his foot and he trips again, pitching forward, the barn floor sailing up to meet him-

Javi clears his throat, flustered from more than just his fall. "Yeah. Fine." Jack had ushered him toward a crate, forgetting that Javier was slightly shorter than him, and now Javi sat with his feet off the ground and Jack between his knees.

Jack puts his body between Javier and floor. Javi lands flush against his chest, hands on Jack's arms as he steadies himself. The biceps he's unintentionally wrapped his hands around flex as they gently maneuver him upright. An amused drawl, murmured in his ear: "Easy there, cowboy." Those same hands guide him to a seat- gentle, but commanding.

"Y'alright?" Jack's eyes are black beneath the brim of his hat. The tack room is only half-lit at this early hour- sunlight pours in imperceptibly slowly, like crystallized honey filling the other half of the room, but where the two men stand is still shadowed.

"Sure you are," Jack rasps. He smooths at Javi's shirt, over his shoulders, down his chest. He does the same to his jeans- palms over his thighs, tugging straight the hems. His fingers skim the bare skin of Javi's calf above the boots, and Javi's jaw clenches.

He lifts his foot from Jack's grasp and plants it on his chest. A dark sound rumbles in Jack's chest. He reasserts his grip on Javi's boot, his knuckles whitening. The fingers of his other hand flit, long and graceful, over the metal spur fitting.

"Well now, here's the problem." His voice is deep and gravelly. Javi can feel his chest lift and fall beneath his foot. "Loose spur." Jack flicks the metal star, and it spins with a little whir.

Neither man pays the sound any attention. Javi's eyes are as round and mesmerizing as Jack has always found them.

Javier reaches for the spur to fix it- only to have Jack grab his wrist to stop him. "Nuh-uh. You stay right there, big boy. I got ya."

Jack, keeping hold of Javi's gaze and his foot, kneels. He sets his hat aside. Javi watches, speechless, as Jack tightens the spur, removes the boot from his chest, and then from Javi's foot. He does the same on other side.

Jack then braces his hands on Javi's thighs and pulls himself upright between them. Those graceful fingers skim Javi's jaw and tip his chin up.

The sunlight is closer now, reaching over Jack's shoulder to add to the wicked sparkle in Javi's brown eyes. With his back to the sun, Jack's eyes are still depthless, all-consuming. He glowers closer, until his breath brushes Javi's cheeks, and Javier has never been happier to stay in the shadows.

---

Like...maybe 👀😘

[forbidden-forest-witch]

Destiné à Être: A Remus Lupin story

Chapter Six: Confessions 

***Buckle up, y’all, because this is a long one. It’s all about developing character relationships. I promise there’s Remus content scattered throughout, and we’ll be focusing on his and Brigitte’s dynamic a lot more in the following chapters.  This is a slow burn, but it depicts my favorite version of Remus: shy and set on keeping people at a distance. He’s only human though, and he can’t ignore his feelings forever.... 

(Warnings:Smoking, drinking, language, sexual themes. 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.8k 

...

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic." -Oscar Wilde 

Brigitte pats the head of the giant feathered creature knelt before her. Buckbeak nuzzles into her side, making her laugh. It's been two chaotic days since she's moved in-- filled with getting familiar with her neighborhood and meeting all the Weasleys--and Brigitte is finally paying him a visit before leaving for her first assignment. 

"I'm so happy to meet you too, Beaky. Hagrid will be thrilled", she giggles “I promise I’ll be back”. After Sirius detailed how he came to have possession of the creature, Brigitte realized that this was the exact Hippogriff that Hagrid had mentioned to her nearly ten months ago. 

Back in her room she puts on her worn combat boots, grabs her wand from the dresser, and is out the door. Coincidentally, Remus is also exiting the bathroom at the same moment, and Brigitte collides right into his chest. He reflexively grabs her arm to prevent her from falling.

"I'm so sorry!", she winces. She peaks up at Remus, standing there with a lopsided smirk as he dries his hair with a small towel. Merlin, that smile. He faintly squeezes her arm before putting his hand in his jumper pocket. Brigitte gulps when she sees the beads of water dripping from his long hair, down his neck and dampening his shirt.

"I'm fine, really. Are you okay?", Remus asks. Brigitte simply nods, looking like a deer in headlights. He had been so easy to talk to since the moment they met, and that's what makes her nervous. 

"Good. Moody'll kill me if I injure you before your first mission".  

"Promise I won't tell", she says cheekily. "But I must go, or I might have to tell him you made me late. I hope to see you later. Have a nice day!".

Brigitte proceeds to the front door before Remus can respond. If she had turned around, she would have seen him watching to make sure she doesn't have another collision on her way out. On the front stoop, Brigitte concentrates on the address Alastor Moody sent her the previous night via floo mail. She Disapparates and lands in the disclosed alleyway, groaning at the way her stomach churns.

A large shadow appears from behind the dumpsters.

"You're late", Moody grumbles, taking his wand to create a silencing charm around them. Nymphadora Tonks steps out from behind the old auror and gives her new friend a quick hug.

"No she's not, Mad-Eye. We're obnoxiously early", Tonks mocks as she steps beside Brigitte.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!", he pounds his walking stick on the ground, making both girls jump. "Be early next time".

"Yeah, yeah, yeah", Tonks waves her hand dismissively.

"So, I hear we got a little prodigy on our hands?", Moody says, eyeing Brigitte. She feels small under the intense gaze of that magical eye. "Yeah... Dumbledore said somethin' about elements. Show me what you can do...".

Brigitte looks at him puzzled, but Tonks gives her an assuring nod. Brigitte takes a step back, looking down the long alleyway. The wind picks up, fanning their hair, paper on the ground, and then so strong they have to dig their feet into the ground. Then it stops and Brigitte looks at Moody's walking stick. The tip of it ignites into a flame, and the wood underneath glows red-hot. An orb of water appears mid-air above it and splashes it out, and small twigs sprout from the polished cane.

"You can do all that without a wand?", Moody asks, and Brigitte thinks she hears a hint of intrigue.

"It's not much. I needed my wand when I helped Dumbledore make the tournament maze. I've never had formal practice, or even thought about weaponizing it", Brigitte says apologetically.

"We can work with that", Moody says. "Later. Now, we're starting with no map. So, that means we have to find our own starting points. Today, we'll be going down the street to see if anyone of interest visits the Carrow family apartment".

"We should walk, that magic so close to their property could give us away", Tonks suggests. Moody agrees, and the three are inconspicuous as they strut down the sidewalk with the Muggles. When they get to the small courtyard park across the street, Moody puts a concealment charm around them so no one notices them.

"So... how's living at Headquarters?", Tonks asks Brigitte under her breath. They whisper back and forth, with Tonks trying hard to keep the topic on Auguste. "... We've been on three dates. I'd count them as dates, I think".

"You met four days ago!"

"SHHHHH... we're going in", Moody's hiss is so loud that Muggle passersby look around startled.

"What? Moody, you heard what Dumbledore said about missions with Britt--"

"She's gotta take the same risk we all do. Y' got a problem with that, Ms. Moreau?".

"Not at all. Just tell me what to do".

"Follow me and keep quiet. We're going to see if there's anything we can use against them. Snape attending those meetings ain't enough. Voldemort's talking to these people everyday while he's busy prepping for the new school year, and he already ordered Snape stay at the school-- near Harry-- unless otherwise directed".

The young women look at one another and shudder at the idea of being closely monitored by Snape, regardless if it's for protection. They follow after Moody. He leads them to the house and unlocks the front door after breaking the Carrows' protective spells; officially entering their fight against Voldemort's rise. 

─── .˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

The first week goes by in the blink of an eye. Brigitte goes on more missions breaking into Voldemort supporters' homes; she responds to the worried letters sent by her mother and former workplace; she lets Tonks show her around Diagon Alley and visits her brother; and helps the Weasley clan get 12 Grimmauld Place shiny and new again.

Odd charms are scattered around the house, tiny critters jump out of hiding spots that are getting cleaned out, and every piece of furniture needs repairing. Kreacher clearly hasn't done any upkeep since his previous Masters died; and with Brigitte and Molly being the only ones allowed to use magic, they have a long way to go. Remus is gone day in and day out, and Sirius doesn't come out of his room until the sun begins to set.

"Evening, Sirius", Brigitte jests. "You're down just in time. The Weasleys have left for the weekend".

"Hmph. Seen Moony?". He sits on the dusty sofa and lights a cigarette. It looks like he's hardly slept, but still monumentally better than the mugshot everyone is familiar with.

"Remus? No, he's not been around for days, not that I've noticed", Brigitte mumbles as she flings open the wall-lengths drapes. The drawing room is the next space to tackle, now that the bedrooms are all taken care of. The area is coated in cobwebs, the furniture is decaying, and the windows are so grime-covered it blocks all sunlight.

"Remus takes a while to warm up to new groups of people, likes to focus on his missions and whatnot". Sirius tries to explain.

"It makes me feel pretty useless. I'm not doing missions that last all day and night", she says, beating the dust out of the heavy fabric.

"You're telling me", Sirius chortles, cigarette smoke coming out of his nostrils.

"Oops, my bad", Brigitte cringes.

"No worries, Poppet", Sirius winks.

"You English, I'll never understand the slang". Brigitte twirls around her fingers, gathering all the floating dust into a long spiral, resembling a tornado. She guides it across the room, collecting all the dust and dirt in its path, until it spins into the fireplace and lands on the pile of ash.

"I'll admit that was impressive... and imagine if it was Death Eaters instead of dust bunnies", Sirius clicks his tongue. However, the commotion of the dust devil upset something living under the couches, and a bunch of small, winged creatures fly around the room before making a beeline for the piano.

"What the hell was that?", Brigitte gasps, ducking in case one aims for her.

"Looked like doxies, but that's more Remus' realm", Sirius says, staring uneasily at the piano, which is making a humming sound from the doxies flapping their wings against the strings.

"I hope Molly knows how to get rid of those", Brigitte groans, joining Sirius on the couch. They kick their feet kicked up on the couch in case more doxies make an appearance, and spend the evening doing Sirius' two hobbies: listening to Classic Rock and drinking. After all that time in Azkaban, it seems to be only thing to liven the man if Remus isn't around.

The more Sirius has to drink, the more he reminisces about the days before everything went to Hell. Brigitte loves hearing his stories, but the amount of alcohol the wizard consumes will almost always turn the mood from silly to sorrow.

" ... Bowie, any day of the week. James even named his broomstick 'Ziggy Stardust'", Sirius cackles.

"I'm not sure if 'broomstick' is a euphemism for something else...", Brigitte quirks an eyebrow. It's way past sunset now, and the glasses have been refilled more than once.

"HA! You're pretty alright, Britt", Sirius laughs, spilling whiskey on the couch.

"Just alright?".

"You birds... Ah, shit. Actually, this is one of the last things we did-- dance to Bowie", Sirius recalls as a new song starts. "Lily and James were in hiding, and they insisted on throwing me an early Birthday party. I was due for a long mission, but just a couple days later it happened...".

Brigitte watches the man's face turn to stone. He stares off distantly and drags his short fingernails back and forth on his thigh.

"They needed a secret keeper, like how Dumbledore is here", Sirius continues. ", Naturally, it was decided I'd do it. I'd never tell. But there are ways. No one trusted anybody. There was a spy. I got in my head ... so I suggested Peter. James agreed; no one knew we switched and it'd keep them all that much safer. Well, was supposed to...", he laments.

"It's alright, Sirius. We don't have to–"

"No– no... I'm sorry. I need to finish this. For our new case, right? I've faced fucking Death Eaters and dementors, I can do this", he says, mostly to himself. He takes a few deeps breaths and continues the story: how Hagrid told him James and Lily were killed and Harry was going with Dumbledore, the helpless gutted feeling, the blind rage when he went after Peter, and how the traitor blew up the street and sliced his own finger off. Then of course, Peter transformed into a rat and Sirius was the only one left at the scene.  

Without another word, Sirius leaves the drawing room and stays hidden for two days.

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

Brigitte takes the initiative to possibly gather more information regarding Sirius, now that she knows exactly how he was framed. After another morning with Moody, Brigitte marches into The Ministry to attain Sirius' legal documents from the last decade. Not surprisingly, she is met with hostility and incompliance for merely mentioning the infamous man's name.

The crude witch scowls and rises from her seat, towering over Brigitte.

"And why on earth do you need information about Sirius Black?! Do you know where he's hiding? That'd be aiding a fugitive, ya know...".

"No, Madame, I'm only interested for research purposes. To see how the laws in this country work".

"You can go to the library if you want to research, girl. What is your name again?".

"Uh, you're absolutely right. Off to the library, have a nice day!". Brigitte gets out of there as quickly as she can. She will have to tread lightly with this. The last thing they want is drawing attention to The Order, and that's exactly what she will do if she shows too much interest in the most wanted criminal in the country. Brigitte makes it back safely to Grimmauld Place without any followers, and she is greeted with the typical roaring of Walburga Black's portrait and laughing Weasley children whizzing by.

"Vermin! Traitors! Scum in my house!".

"Fred! George! Stop running on the ground floor!", Remus whisper shouts as he comes out the kitchen. He pauses for split a second, shocked to see Brigitte, who has a surprised smile on her face. She watches him shut the curtains around the screaming painting, admiring the way his scars crease when he concentrates.

'How'd he get those? Could he be a werewolf? Not everyone with scars is. Papa has no scars on his face. There are plenty of ways he could've got those, especially as someone who's fought in war ... So brave ..." Britt ponders.

"Much better, those kids have been driving her crazy all day", Remus scoffs, turning his head to offer Brigitte a knee-weakening smirk. "Nice to see you, Britt. Settling in, I hope?", he whispers, hiding his scarred hands in his pockets.

"The first weeks in a new place are always tumultuous, but I think I'm figuring things out", Brigitte says with a hypnotic smile. "How's things here? Enjoying the cleaning?".

"Well, Molly woke up Sirius not too long ago, so you can imagine how productive we've been", Remus mutters sarcastically. He opens the door and steps aside for Brigitte to enter the kitchen. Sirius is in there, half-asleep and eating beans on toast. He's slumped forward, holding his head up with his fist.

"Sounds like you need a break, and possibly a coffee?". Brigitte flicks her wand, and the coffee brews itself.

"How French of you", Remus chortles.

"I've always needed something stronger than tea", Brigitte shrugs, lining up the mugs.

"I think 'strong' is exactly what Sirius needs", Remus jokes, watching his friend fight the sleep that threatens to pull his eyelids closed.  

"Double espresso, please", Sirius groans. Brigitte slides a steamy mug over his way, then hands another to Remus. His fingers rest on her hand for a few seconds before he takes the mug, causing the witch to quickly averts her eyes and curse her warm cheeks. She tops off her café au lait with a hefty amount of milk, and then sits with Remus.

"Y'know, it may be a mess around here but surely there are more cups", Remus remarks, looking at the bowl in Brigitte's small hands.

"Don't tease me", she giggles. "This is how we drink it at home. It used to turn my mother crazy, the mess my Papa and I made". She takes a sip and sets it on the table.

"Do try not to make a mess all over the table I just cleaned!", Sirius shrills.

"Calm down, Padfoot ... It's the only thing he's ever cleaned. He's quite proud of the work", Remus chuckles before blowing the steam from his drink. His lips pucker into a small 'o' under his mustache.

"I can see it wore him out completely", Brigitte snickers.  

"The faster we clean, the faster I can get back to sleeping in! So tell us, Britt, how'd the Ministry go?".

"Could have been better, but really, how can I expect them to react when a random person asks for Sirius Black's file?".

"You didn't?", Remus scoffs amusedly.

"Bold move!", Sirius hoots.

"Have to get their attention some way, no? I have the magical visa thing to work here and they know I work with, erm, high-risk cases. What lawyer wouldn't be interested in reading more about Black? But you should've seen the woman's face-- I thought I wasn't getting out the building. Mon Dieu, I cannot imagine how my drafts for the anti-werewolf laws will go. I really have my work cut out for me here...", Brigitte rambles on, missing the weary looks between the two Marauders.

As if on cue, Ginny interrupts, running into the room with Molly rushing behind her and a very apologetic George.

"I'm sorry, Fred was supposed to pick up that book! I'm real sorry, Gin".

"Everything alright, Molly?", Remus asks, straightening up in the chair. Oh, yes, thank you Remus.  And I'll deal with you in a minute, George! Rinse up in the sink, sweetie", Molly turns on the faucet for her daughter. Getting a better look one can see bubbling, purple slime coating Ginny's hands. She holds them over the sink while Molly pours a potion. The girl winces, but seconds later and she pulls her fingers apart as the goop disappears.

Molly slowly turns to the lone twin. Everyone in the room stiffens at her expression.

"WHY! Can't you! Stop with the jokes for two seconds!", she scolds him, slapping his bicep with a handkerchief.

"Geez Mum, I said I'm sorry! Fred and I are testing new produ–"

"Enough! Enough with your inventions, you're going to hurt someone! Now, go upstairs and tell your brother I don't want to see another trace of your 'products' the rest of the summer!", she fumes.

"That's two months!", George argues.

"GEORGE FABIEN WEASLEY".

"Yes, ma'am", he groans. George spins on his heel, noticing Brigitte in the room for the first time. His face blanches and he hurries out the room to warn his twin.

"Whoa. Has it been like this all da–", Brigitte turns to the seat Remus was in to see it now unoccupied. He must have slipped out when she was watching the Weasleys. She doesn't notice Sirius looking her way, seeing her amused smile becomes crestfallen. Brigitte really enjoyed the easy conversations they had her first night, and this is the most they spoken since.

"Man, that look on George's face when he saw you", Ginny chortles.

"I think he was a little embarrassed there was an audience just now".

"Ha, sure. What's that?", Ginny asks, pointing to the bowl of coffee.

"Cafe au lait. Try it".

Ginny flashes an appreciative smile and carefully lifts the bowl, gasping aloud when she tastes the rich flavor.

"It's brilliant! How about another?".

Brigitte giggles and twirls her fingers, conjuring up a duplicate of the treat. Ginny sits down where Remus was priorly, and the girls leisurely sips their drinks. They chat about trouble-making brothers, and how much more fun the summer would be if they were sunbathing on the beach.

"I wanna fly my broom above the ocean", Ginny daydreams.

"Ahh, to witness a sunset from that spot. You could follow it forever on a broom!".

It reminds Brigitte of being with Fleur or Francesca; and a sisterly bond quickly forms between the two. They spend the rest of the day hopped up on caffeine and rearranging the furniture in Brigitte's bedroom.  

─── . ˚*☆ ☾ ☆*˚ . ───

Friday night, two weeks since Brigitte has moved into 12 Grimmauld Place. The house is calm, homier. So far they've gotten fresh sheets on all the beds, waxed the floors, tended the drawing room, and organized the kitchen. The light fixtures are no longer dusty, and the torn furniture has been repaired, but the place is cluttered and the chirping noises coming from underneath the sofas persist.

In the drawing room, 70's Pop hits blare on the record player at full volume. It echoes throughout the entire townhouse. Brigitte is in the shower, singing her heart out as she shampoos her long locks.

Sirius can hear her clearly even with a ceiling dividing them. He laughs mirthfully thinking about what his mother would say; and he happily sings along with Brigitte and Freddie Mercury as he feeds the Buckbeak in Mrs. Black's old bedroom.

When Sirius returns to the kitchen he stops in his tracks, struck wide-eyed as Remus Lupin leans against the counter and eats from a Chinese takeout container.

"Merlin's Beard! He's back", Sirius gasps.

"Hello to you too, Padfoot", Remus mumbles with a mouth full of chicken.

"Hey mate, I was beginning to think you were a vampire too, avoiding us during the daylight hours". Sirius takes an egg roll and tears into it with his teeth, causing cabbage to litter across the floor. "Shit!".

"I got it", Remus lazily flicks his wand to clean the mess, "and I haven't been avoiding anything. I've been busy, Padfoot".

"Free this weekend? It's just Britt and me here. Weasleys are staying home and Gus is busy with Tonks, can you believe that? C'mon, don't make us imbibe with Kreacher!", Sirius bemoans.

"I guess", Remus glances out of the corner of his eye. "Something may come up... and you should be careful about how much you imbibe".

Sirius crosses his arms, leaning against one of the the heavy dining chairs and staring down the beloved lycanthrope.

"Y'know ... almost fiveteen years apart and I can still tell when you're hiding something".

"I am no–"

"You're avoiding her aren't you? Cuz your furry, little problem? Really Remus ... How long can you pull that off? And why would ya?!", Sirius questions.

"Because people avoid me like the plague when they find out".

"You may not have been around as much as I'd like", Sirius guilts him, "but I know you've heard enough from that girl's mouth to know she wouldn't do that".

Remus keeps his gaze on the greasy food, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "It's not the same, Pads. I'm a bloody werewolf sleeping in the next room, not some feeble victim she only knows on paper. Some bandaged up bloke in hospital, or unemployed and desperate. I don't want that pitied look. Or worse ... the absolute and utter revulsion, the pure hatred I typically get".

"Nooo mate-- I think at worst she'll light your head on fire", Sirius jokes to lighten the mood, "Look, everyone else knows and it hasn't been an issue. I spent time with Britt this week and I can tell you she's a sweetheart. It'll only get worse the longer you wait".

"I know that-- all that", Remus sighs, staring down at his hands and determining whether or not his mouth can form the words to confess to her his most dreaded secret. Over the years, he's learned to never assume how people will react.

Letting his friend sulk in it for a minute, Sirius picks up the Daily Prophet to look for any articles mentioning his name; and only a moment later they are startled by the loud record player upstairs coming to a scratching stop.

⋆˚☽˚⋆

With damp hair and a poetry book tucked under her arm, Brigitte shuffles to the drawing room to unwind for the night. She turns off the music and browses through her vinyl collection that is on piled on the floor, next to the fireplace. She finds the new Pink Floyd record, The Division Bell; it was a birthday gift from her Papa that laid forgotten in her trunk until now. She lays on her tummy and kicks her sock-clad feet to the music while doodling in the margins of the book. The fire and fresh sound warm her.

♫ ♪ ♫   Lost in thought and lost in time While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted ♫ ♪ ♫

Brigitte gets lost in the angelic vocals of David Gilmour and her drawing, until the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the solitude.

"Belle soirée, chérie", Sirius says singsongy at the doorway.

"Come to disturb my peace, Black?", Brigitte teases with her eyes glued to the paper.

"You see what I've had to deal with this week?", Sirius scoffs, but Remus ignores him and simply smiles fondly at the way she bites her lip in concentration.

"You have my pity... Hi, Britt, I've come to give you respite from this one", Remus cocks his head at Sirius.

Brigitte's face lights up when she brings her eyes up from the paper, seeing Remus with his suit jacket discarded and old tie loose around his neck.

"Bonjour, Remus! That's very kind of you, but I must commend his good behavior so far".

Sirius collapses onto the couch, feigning offense. "What's that supposed to mean?! I'm an absolute treasure".

"I lived with you long enough to know all about your 'treasures', Padfoot", Remus guffaws.

"Oh chérie, all the teasing is out of love", Brigitte insists. "I lived with plenty of high maintenance girls at Beauxbâtons, you're easy!".

"Nope, I am NOT speaking to either of you", Sirius closes his eyes and sips on his Firewhiskey.

Remus meanders over to Brigitte and leans on the mantle. "You've got an impressive collection", he says glancing over the album covers, surprised to recognize most of them.

"I better, only been working on it my whole life! The rest are at my parent's house. I'd say at least, hmm, 200 total?", she says, sitting up to lean against the sofa that sits opposite of Sirius. She tucks her bare legs into her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

"Merlin... quite the little connoisseur".

"I don't know about that. I just like what I like", she smiles shyly.

Remus kneels down to look through the stacks of records, totally forgetting his prior conversation with Sirius. Brigitte's aura does something to him, it makes him feel so calm and safe, euphoric if he allowed himself to enjoy it long enough.

"Fortunately I recognize a lot of these, so I say you've got excellent taste. How'd you get into collecting?".

"My father owns a music and bookstore. It's in Strasbourg, nothing big. He sells mostly le non magique, or uh, muggle stuff. He's muggle-born and prefers the music ... He may have passed down his obsession", she looks at Remus with a beaming smile, feeling giddy from the praise.  

"Ahh, two things that feed the soul: books and music, yeah? Sounds like a delightful way to grow up. You play any instruments?".

"The piano. I fell in love the first time I heard 'Moonlight Sonata'", Brigitte sighs, thinking about the melancholic sound.

"You should play sometime". Remus looks towards the piano in the back of the room. Brigitte scoffs and vehemently shakes her head; her wild strawberry tendrils bouncing back and forth.

"Not a chance! I never said I play for other people, did I?", she laughs nervously.

"That'd be embarrassing for me and the piano". Remus hums unconvinced and turns back to her collection, and there's a distant crashing sound from above.

"Probably fucking Kreacher in the attic", Sirius mumbles, startling Remus and Brigitte who forget he was there. He clumsily stands up with an empty liquor bottle in his hand. "I'm going to see what that was. I told him 'never be in the same room as me' but he still finds a way to be a pain in my arse". He closes the French doors behind him with no intention of returning.

"Feel free to change the music. I put them out so we can share. It gets too quiet in this big house", Brigitte says as she props the poetry book on her bony knee and resumes decorating the margins, secretly peeking up to look at the handsome, older wizard.

Remus tries to straighten up the wonky stacks of records, occasionally glancing to see the gold light from the fire dance on Brigitte's slick legs.

"Do you get to enjoy your weekend or are you working?", she questions mindlessly.

Enjoy. That word suddenly reminds Remus of what he was feeling earlier: Dread... a total deprivation of enjoyment in telling her what he's to become in under a fortnight. He tries to not let his relaxed demeanor falter.

"N-no... no work, thank Merlin. Wh-what about you? Any legal work?", he stutters.

She looks up from her book. "I'm free as a bird. My 'work' has had a glacial slow start. I'm going to read and draw and relish in the freedom!", she says hyperbolically.

"Well, um ... speaking of your work. Not Sirius but lycanthropy, werewolves to be exact...", Remus rubs the back of his neck and tries to ignore the tingling in his extremities, "you should know... I should p-probably tell you since were both staying here that, uh, I have it. Lycanthropy... I'm- I'm a werewolf", he mumbles, trailing off at the end.

It confirms her suspicions. Those scars, how else could he have acquired them? Thinking about that hurts Brigitte's heart. How much pain has he endured over the years? She watches Remus drop his head in shame. Brigitte gently places her hand on his arm and leans over to look him in the eye. He reluctantly peeks through his eyelashes to see a small smile upon her lips.

"It's okay Remus, honest. I mean, I kinda assumed", she gestures to his scars,"... I'm sorry that the world is unforgiving, and it makes telling people so difficult. But... I'm not worried so please stop making that face", she says sweetly.

Brigitte puts her hand back in her lap, feeling her skin heating up from the prolonged contact. Remus let's out a breath he had been holding in.

"I know living with one and working with one is a completely different and I'm sorry you didn't find out until after you moved in. I just...".

"Oh, Remus. Didn't I say I don't scare easily? I assume you have a plan for the full moons, so what's the issue? You have a place to go to, right? What about the wolfsbane? I can get you some", Brigitte asks, her big blue eyes flooded with concern.

Remus looks at her dumbfounded. Her reaction isn't anger or fright, but to ask him about his well-being. No one's ever asked him that. Sure, Sirius and James cared, but they were silly boys who thought it was cool their friend could devore the Slytherin House. He doesn't know what to feel now.

"I do, thank you...".

"Well good. If anything changes let me know— seriously. My Maman makes it for my papa and brother and she always makes extra in case I need it for work. I might have dry ingredients with me here if we need to make it", she says casually.

"Wait- what? I'm sorry ... What? For your dad and brother? What does ... They have?... I-I had no idea", Remus shakes his head, looking thoughtfully at the floor between them.

"It happened years before I was born. So truly, when I say it's no problem living here, I mean it. I grew up with them plus two more brothers. You've met them!", she says light-heartedly, "It was my normal growing up— something I don't really consider relevant to someone's character. You're more than the lycanthropy".

"You sure you're not just trying to save us from an awkward conversation?", Remus asks hesitantly.

"I understand why you had to tell me, but I promise it won't change anything, Remus", Brigitte affirms.

He finally raises his head. He sees only comfort and honesty in her eyes, not a hint of pity.

'Why are her eyes so beautiful', Remus thinks, 'and why in Merlin's name does she have to say my name like that...'.

"I don't know what to say, Britt...". The burning anxiety in his stomach fizzles since she hasn't run away screaming.

"Don't say anything, but I will help if you need it... Like a job, besides what you do for The Order of the Phoenix?", she asks.]

"My career options have always been limited, but I was publicly exposed when I left Hogwarts a year ago. People would rather hire Sirius". While he admires her tenacity, the last thing Remus will ever allow is him becoming her charity case.

"Very well. If anything changes you know where to find me". (He nods his head appreciatively). "And now that the secret is out, will you stop avoiding me?", Brigitte boldly jokes, catching him off-guard.

"Uh, wh-what? ... Damn. that obvious huh? I'm sorry about that", he smiles crookedly at her. He turns his gaze to the flickering flames. The light reflects in his copper eyes. They look dark as night in the shadow, but sparks of amber and honey dance in his irises when the light hits.

"Would you like to hear a poem?", Brigitte asks.

"I'd love to".

"This is my favorite American Muggle poet, Robert Frost", Brigitte clears her throat.

"One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom.    I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.    I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear.    They would not find me changed from him they knew— Only more sure of all I thought was true."

She brings her gaze up to Remus, whose eyes are closed as her melodic voice dances in his ears,

"That was beautiful. Gothic and sublime, but romantic... not unlike 'Moonlight Sonata'".

Brigitte smiles in agreement, "The most beautiful things are a little unusual or else they'd be tragically ordinary ... And it speaks to me. Like Monsieur Frost, I'm eager to see where the breeze takes me".

Remus admires the intensity in her eyes, "I admit I appreciate your fervor, Brigitte. It's not a common quality in the Order, we need that".

She smiles bashfully while holding the book up to hide the blush growing across her cheeks. This attraction and draw she feels towards Remus is unfamiliar and overwhelming. Which is ironic, considering the predicament she has put herself in by joining the Order. This moment has her more flustered than showing off her magic for Alastair Moody. Brigitte doesn't quite understand it, but it's crushing to think that the older wizard in front of her cannot feel it too.

"Thank you, Remus... Well, it's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow?", Brigitte asks, standing up and awkwardly shifting back and forth.

"You will, I think Sirius will hex me if I don't beguile him this weekend.  Sleep well, Britt".

"Bonne nuit, Remus".

She scampers up the stairs to her room, making Remus' heart palpitate; he felt that pull too, and they both go to bed that night knowing things between them will be different from here on out.  

Masterlist

Baby taglist: @dontjudgemyobsessionpls

[hazele-omega]

here have a teaser of this Nest scene I was writing, I really like it and I will be posting it without context

It was there. A black diamond bare against the sky, entwining triplet suns in an army of reaching tentacle hands. Still, silent.

Though the rope was tied firmly from his waist to the Broken Sword, Zed felt like he was falling. It was the way his jetpack propelled him a little faster than usual towards it - the quiet tug of its gravity, its presence. The way that the widening gap in space beckoned to him.

Dead silence in his Exosuit. Broken, suddenly, by a sharp crackling: October's voice, clambering over interference.

"Two hundred units to go. You can switch on your scanners now."

He raised his hand to the device around his neck, glove burned in perfect colour by the unfiltered sunlight. A loud, prolonged beep, and a small screen appeared in the corner of his vision. External Biosigns: >1%.

"Remember. If it gets over forty, start running." The interference had cleared, and the Traveller's voice rang cold. "One hundred units. Prepare for landing."

Disabling his jetpack, Zed turned his body in midair, letting the gathered momentum take him the rest of the way. He activated the magnetic boots preliminarily, feet outstretched towards the station's hull. The rope strained a little.

"Fifty units. Get ready to detach. Make sure your area is clear."

Zed felt for the clasp where the rope was buckled to his belt. It wasn't quite long enough, and the frigate couldn't move for fear of disturbing whatever was on that station, so he'd have to go the last thirty units on his own. His fingers brushed the release, waiting for the perfect moment.

"...three...two...one...detach."

He unbuckled the rope as fast as he could; the clasp sped past his head, returning to the red-sailed ship hovering above them.

There was a moment of vertigo, of spinning stars, of not knowing which way he was suddenly being pulled, faster, to the abyss...

The resonance of hard and hollow metal jolted through his legs as he made contact, his boots fastening themselves to the hull. A rebound, torso stretched, then gravity released him.

"Nice. Watch Lucien on your left."

The hull vibrated as the Korvax made their landing. Vacuum rendered the tremors inaudible.

"Okay, straight ahead of you there should be a breach where you can get in. Be careful - we don't know how bad things are down there."

The pair looked at each other, Zed taking the first few steps. He winced at the vibrations they created - how much could the plants detect?

It was like an empty eye socket - a hole punctured in a missing panel, metal fragments and wires sticking out as if some sort of attachment had been ripped from it. Zed stood on the edge, avoiding the very-much-still-sharp edges and straining to perceive something in that lake of shadow.

In his peripheral, Lucien was switching on their night vision. Synthesised directly from their carapace, the voice cut loud and clear into the silence.

"Can't see much, but it doesn't look blocked up. I'll go first-"

"No way!" interjected Zed. "I'm not letting you be first to get hurt. Besides, those things can sense you a lot easier than me. I'm going."

"Yeah, Zed's right," October added. "And it'd be easier for you to get him out of there than the other way round. Now, Zed, if you could just lean over a little more, I'll scan for any threats."

Zed obliged; as he leaned over the void, he felt Lucien's metal hand on his shoulder. They were worried, and that was never a good sign.

The scanner around his neck beeped. "Okay, so it opens into some sort of service hallway. I'm seeing a few tentacle clusters up the walls, but nothing deadly. Zed, you're clear. I wouldn't touch the sides or the roof - get Lucien to lower you down. Oh, and no torch. Night vision only."

He grabbed both Lucien's hands as the magnets deactivated and his body re-entered zero gravity. As his vision faded into grainy green, they gently lowered him into the blackness of the hole.

A new voice in his ears. Some remnant receiver, some automated message that had not turned off.

"Now entering R - kzzt - Ryauros Station. Welcome - kzzt - home."

[babyboibucky]

Slut Fest Day 5 - Noncon

Pairing: TWS!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k yeah this is a full oneshot lmao

Warnings: Dark!Bucky obviously, fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, creampie, implied suicidal thoughts, use of a knife, mentions of wound and blood

A/N: This is the first time I wrote a full noncon fic so feedback is very much welcome!!! This will have a second part which is tomorrow’s prompt, Breeding

Slut Fest Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Your vision was hazy when you first opened your eyes, the splitting headache and body pain that came along with it almost made you think that you were merely having a hangover.

Almost.

Flashes of the previous night flooded your brain, you could only recall bits and pieces of what went down. You were at a club with your friends, lots of shots and dancing; there was a man in a black shirt that danced with you. He was ruggedly handsome and well-built with dark hair and a rough voice.

You searched your memories for a name...was it Brian? No, it was far from that. Brock? Yeah, you were confident that his name was Brock.

He danced with you that night and you were sure that he had asked whether you wanted to go somewhere private. And that’s where everything had gone to black.

Blinking helped you with your vision and now you can clearly see that you weren’t in your room. Looking around, you realized that you were in a cell. It was dark and damp, with only a single fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling above.

The pain in your shoulder and arms made you want to stretch but to no avail because it was only now that you discovered that your wrists were restrained and tied above your head. You were almost standing on your tiptoes with how high you were tied up, explaining the cause of your body ache.

“No, no...is someone out there?!” you screamed in panic as your mind finally understood what was going on.

“Please? Help me!” you yelled, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you tugged at your wrist.

The echo of your voice was the only response you received. Up until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from afar. Your lips trembled in fear as you waited for someone to emerge from the dark.

And there he was, the man from last night, Brock. But he wasn’t alone.

In front of Brock was a man who was way taller and bigger than him— long brunette locks covered his face and if that wasn’t enough to keep his identity hidden, he had to be wearing a black mask as well.

It wasn’t just his large built and mysterious look that piqued your interest, it was his left arm. It was made out of what seemed to be metal; there was a red star painted on the shoulder.

“Good, you’re awake. Didn’t want to keep the Soldat waiting.” Brock said as he pushed the man inside the cell.

“Who the fuck are you?! Why am I here?!” you spat at Brock as you watched him close the cell door before locking it once more.

Brock merely smirked, “You were at the right place at the wrong time, baby. Needed to reward our asset with a little something, thought you looked like the perfect present.” he chuckled darkly.

“Soldat, she’s all yours.”

Those words made your bile rise up to your throat and the presence of the metal-armed man didn’t help you with your fear. You threw up all of a sudden, coughing as your tears began to fall endlessly.

“Please...please don’t.” it was all you could utter as you shook your head.

The sound of the Soldat’s heavy boots crushing the ground made your heart beat twice as fast. You probably looked pathetic, tugging at your wrists despite knowing that it was futile. The closer the Soldat was, the more you moved and thus, the weaker you got.

“Whoever you are, please...just help me out.” you pleaded.

The Soldat stopped when he was a feet away from you and suddenly, your breath hitched in your throat. His eyes were the bluest you’d seen and despite his intimidating appearance, they held a certain softness in them.

“I don’t know who you are but I know you don’t want to do this.” you softly said, hoping that he’d change his mind.

Your body jolted in shock when Soldat spoke, his voice was low and gravelly— hoarse even, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Такой красивый подарок.”

Such a pretty gift.

He lifted his metal hand and you flinched, afraid that he was going to hurt you. But he merely took your chin and wiped your bottom lip clean. Soldat was so close that you could hear his heavy breathing beneath his mask.

“Стоит ли мне развернуть подарок сейчас?”

Should I unwrap my present now?

“I...I don’t understand you.” you croaked out.

The way his blue eyes turned dark in a split second brought your fear back. Just like that, the softness he had turned into something so perverse, it sent shivers down your spine. You were about to say something when the Soldat gripped the neckline of your dress with his metal hand, tearing it open effortlessly leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and underwear.

You screamed and tried to kick him but he was so much stronger than you. He didn’t even budge when your feet landed on his thigh. If any, your defiance triggered him and only placed you in a much more dangerous situation.

“I beg you, please…don’t do this.” you cried and cried.

A squeal escaped your lips when Soldat grabbed your face in his flesh hand, squeezing your cheeks as his eyes roamed around your face, taking in all of your features. His thumb grazed your mouth, tugging your bottom lip down before he spoke again, but this time, in a language you finally understood.

“Suck.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you shook your head but when you felt his hand tighten around your face, you were left with no choice but to obey. Letting out a shaky breath, you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked.

Soldat hummed before you felt his thumb press down on your tongue. He moved his thumb in and out of your mouth before letting go of your face and taking a small step back away from you.

You hoped he had a change of heart. He didn’t.

You let out a gasp when you saw him take out a knife from one of his holsters, skillfully flipping it before bringing it close to your face. You’d never known fear like this before, it was extremely horrifying.

It felt like you were face to face with the god of death himself.

“Don’t kill me, please! Please let me go, please...I’m not going to say anything to the police, I swear. I’ll stay quiet, I promise.” you sobbed.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears; the Soldat wiped away your tears before he dragged the tip of his knife from your neck down to the strap of your bra, slicing it before moving onto the next, letting it fall to the ground, leaving you bare for him.

There was nothing else you could do to escape and yet you tugged and tugged at your wrists, ignoring the stinging pain from how the restraints were now digging onto your skin. Your wails were unheard and the more you screamed for help, the more helpless you felt.

The Soldat moved to slice the sides of your underwear before tearing them off of you, throwing the fabric behind him. He took a step back, as if admiring his present before him and he loved it.

He loved seeing you like that, vulnerable and helpless. All for him to use, to take and to ruin.

A cold hand ran up from your hip to your ribs, the coolness of the metal making your entire body shiver. A soft sob echoed in the cell when the Soldat cupped your breast before his fingers pinched a nipple, making you cry out.

Your body was responding to his touches despite your protests and it was making you frustrated. You didn’t want this and yet your body craved for more, needed more from him.

The Soldat’s hand traveled to do the same to your other breast before sliding down to your abdomen, making you hiss at the cold sensation. His eyes met yours the same time he cupped your mound.

Your body jumped up as you cried, feeling his fingers rub at your cunt. You begged him to stop but at the same time, you wanted him to continue. Everything was a blur to you now; your pussy began to weep for the same man you wanted to run away from.

Biting your lip, you tried your hardest not to make a sound. Warmth crept up to your face when your hips began to move on their own, grinding against the Soldat’s hand as he continued to rub your folds at a slow, steady pace.

You felt ashamed. You weren’t supposed to feel good and yet you did.

The Soldat seemed to have noticed that you were holding back because he suddenly pressed his thumb against your clit at the same time he slid his middle finger in. The intrusion was enough to make you whimper, something that urged Soldat to keep going.

“N-no…” you whined.

He pumped his finger in and out of your cunt in a quicker pace until you felt your wetness dripping down your thighs. You cried and refused to look at him in the face so you rested your forehead against your arm.

Your body was giving up from how you were restrained, your arms were starting to feel numb and your legs were trembling both from pleasure and from trying to support your entire weight on your toes.

“S-soldat…” you unintentionally called out his name when he added another finger in.

It stirred something darker within the man, something primal and feral that made you want to just die right then and there. Perhaps it was better for him to kill you.

He continued to finger your cunt while rubbing your clit in circles, faster and faster until you were crying out both from shame and from your release. Wetness gushed out of your pussy, soaking his metal hand. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt and stuck it into your mouth, muffling your sobs.

“Я хочу попробовать тебя в следующий раз.”

I want to taste you next time.

The Soldat was quick to remove his fingers from your mouth, only to move them towards the zipper of his pants. Your eyes widened as you watched him take his cock out, pumping it a couple of times before he stood close to you.

You shook your head, “I don’t want this, please. Soldat, please…”

“Продолжай умолять, милая девушка.”

Keep begging, pretty girl.

In one swift motion, the Soldat hoisted your legs to wrap around his waist before sliding his cock into your pussy. You gasped out loud at the sudden stretch, your brows furrowing into your forehead at the stinging pain. The Soldat was relentless and didn’t give you time to adjust.

He kept on taking and taking and taking until nothing was left from you.

His cock was huge, it filled you up like never before. It stretched you out to the point of pain, making you sob out loud. Your lip began to bleed from how hard you were biting down on it, you were giving it your all not to moan but one particular thrust rendered your efforts a failure.

You moaned out loud when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, making your body tremble from the pleasure that shot through your veins. Your toes curled and your hands balled into fists when the Soldat kept on hitting that particular spot.

He started groaning and cursing in the same language he had been speaking. His hands on your hips were tight as he brought your body down on his cock each time he thrusted into you. Your restraints kept on jangling above you, as if they were mocking you and the way your body was reacting to the Soldat.

The Soldat sped up his thrusts, fucking you harder and deeper until you were gasping for air. His cock was punching the air out of you and with the heat building up in your abdomen, it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Your entire body was covered with a sheen of sweat while your face was drenched with your tears. You threw your head back when the Soldat brought his thumb to your clit, pressing down on it.

Looking up at your wrists, you noticed how wounded they already were. Small droplets of blood began to drip from your wrists down to your arm. You closed your eyes and refused to watch the Soldat’s assault on your body.

“Please, stop…” you softly begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

The Soldat didn’t stop and only went faster until you were a sobbing mess. Your body shook when your orgasm hit you wave after wave. You ended up crying out his name as you finished, drenching his cock with your juices.

His grunts were becoming louder and his thrusts sloppier. You knew that he was close and you didn’t want him to finish inside of you. You tried to move your hips away but he was too strong and managed to hold you in place as he fucked you until his balls tightened.

Two more thrusts and he was done, groaning out loud as you felt ropes of his cum fill you up. Your whine turned into a full cry when you realized that you were done for.

Just like that, the Soldat pulled out of you and tucked his cock back into his pants.

Your body had given up and you allowed yourself to just hang limply, ignoring the throbbing pain on your shoulders. At this rate, you were sure that your shoulders were already injured from having been restrained like that for hours.

Your cries died down into hiccups, you’d completely given up. The feeling of the Soldat’s release tainting your legs as it dripped out of your abused cunt was a clear indication that you’d lost everything.

The Soldat lifted your head up with his metal hand; he caressed your cheekbones gently as he finally removed his mask, revealing his face to you.

You were on the verge of passing out when he showed you his face, the last thing you saw before your vision turned  black.

The Soldat truly was the god of death.

[separatist-apologist]

Lucien Jedi making babies with Elain Sith and that making Lucien go to the dark side. Would you write this? please

Yeah, I would. I would even do multiple parts if people asked.

Lucien was falling to his death. Heart slowed, mind clear, he reached through the force just as he’d been taught by Master Tarquin. The force was his ally, his friend. He swallowed, closing his eyes as the world shuttered to a stop. He could no longer hear the taunting shouts of the Sith on the cliff he’d been kicked off. Only his own heart beat, echoing through stone. 

His feet landed on a riverbank gently, boots crunching against the rock. He was given all of a moment to breathe before he felt her land behind him, featherlight despite the fall. 

“Who knew Jedi were so hard to kill?” she crooned. 

“They should educate your lot better,” Lucien replied, turning to face the twisted beauty of Elain Archeron. She was a work of art, clad in obscene black. Like her sisters, Elain wore the same skirt around her hips with the long panel of cloth that fell between her legs. Lucien had spent one too many nights wondering what he might find just beneath, if he ever dared to look. Unlike her sisters and their swirling, sith tattoos, Elain’s skin was flawless and observable. Her strappy black top cut just above her belly button, as if she dared someone to try and pierce her flesh. She wore no other armor, no sleeves to hide her arms, her breasts pushed tantalizing close to her collarbone. Even her hair, twisted off her temples, flowed in loose, buttery brown curls down her back. Of the three of them, Elain seemed to dare anyone who wished to try and grab her. She made it easier than Feyre and Nesta, who wore tightly coiled braids and clothes armed with spikes and knives. Elain had only her twin sabers and the hungry desire to crush her enemies into dust.

Her and him had been playing the game of cat and mouse for far too long. They were, perhaps, too evenly matched. Lucien ignited his blue blades, a near match for the humming red in her hands, and reminded himself he was everything she was not. A Jedi Knight, a guardian of the republic, pulled to the light. Elain’s pretty, pink mouth curved upwards at the sight, her liquid brown eyes rimmed in gold sliding towards his face…to the scars she’d given him not a year earlier.

“A matching set, Vanserra?”

Her blade crashed over his, silencing whatever retort he might offer. Elain was acrobatic, her motions fluid. He appreciated the artistry to how she moved—as if they danced instead of sparred. Every slash of her blade was precise and elegant, just as Lucien liked it. There was no brutal chopping or unnecessary pageantry. He stepped and so did she, their blades working in tandem until Elain was coated in a pretty sheen of sweat he was far too interested in tasting.

One day, he’d be put in a position to kill her and Lucien wasn’t sure he could manage. They were not friends—she’d never gone to the temple, had not been instructed in their ways. He often wondered who she might have been if she had. Elain had grown up outside of the Jedi, trained by some long-dead Sith lord that the youngest sister had apparently slaughtered. He knew what they called them—the eldest, Lady Death, the youngest Night Incarnate, and Elain, the Kingslayer. Elain had a face that could topple empires and, apparently, destroy monarchs. He could not help his attraction to her though he fought it all the same. 

She slammed him up against the cliffside, pinning him with the force. He felt her hand curl around his throat as she approached. Lucien left her, still gripping his blades. They hummed mere inches from her exposed sides as she controlled his air, nearly cutting it off entirely.

“I dream of that day,” she murmured, her own blades hanging from her hips as she brushed her knuckles over the scars on his face. “You should have died.”

“Dreaming of me, are you?” he asked, eyes locked with hers. The attraction between them was not one sided. She’d let him live and they both knew it. 

Her fingers trailed down his cheek and over his jaw. Lucien didn’t move, his heart beating quick against her touch. 

“Do you see them?” she asked, her breath curling against his cheek. She smelled sweet, like jasmine and honey. He wanted to taste it. “My dreams, I mean.”

Their eyes locked again. Lucien didn’t dare admit that he did, even when Elain said, “I see yours. I see the way you grip yourself at night, thinking of all the things you want to do to me.”

Her hand slid between his legs, holding him through the fabric of his trousers. “When are you going to just do it?”

He loathed the way a groan slipped from his lips and how she smiled at the sound. Her hand rubbed, nose brushing against his own. “You know where I am, Lucien. Why don’t you come for me?”

“In that ruined Jedi temple,” he replied, well aware she’d stopped holding him by the throat. He could have shoved her off him. Instead, Lucien turned off his blades so he didn’t hurt her. Elain looked amused, as if she found his affection ridiculous. “You’re too sentimental for what you are.”

“You misunderstand me,” Elain murmured, leaning upwards on her tiptoes so her breasts crushed over his chest. “I’m going to ride you in the council chamber so hard it’ll be felt reverberating through the force for a millenia.”

Between her words and her hand, Lucien had never been harder in his life. Elain rubbed, her forehead pressed to her cheek. “Let it go, Lucien. Join me.”

Her words forced him back to reality. It was wrong to let her touch him like this, to be so easily seduced. He shoved her back, catching the fleeting look of disappointment on her face. His ship wasn’t far—if he ran, he could make it back before he took things between them any further. 

“Lucien, don’t—” Elain tried to stop him but he took off, needing to put as much distance between the pair of them as he could. It was no use and they both knew it. There was a thread between them, iron and unbreakable no matter what he did. It was how she knew what he did in the dark of his room just as clearly as Lucien could watch her hack monarchs apart with ease. Running from her did no good, though Elain, to her credit, did not chase him. He could feel her exasperation settle in his chest

He knew where this led—he’d seen it in his dreams. Touching her was the road to ruin, because Elain Archeron would not turn. He would. If he gave in, if he had her the way she was offering, Lucien would not be able to keep himself from the possessive wanting that already kept him up at night.

So he ran. Ran for his ship and in some ways, his life. He didn’t look back, not when he felt her pulling on their shared cord, reminding him they were still a dyad in the force—and he could not escape her forever. 

The trip back to Coruscant was long and Lucien knew Elain was waiting on the edges of his periphery. No amount of meditating could keep her at bay. Not when she slipped through his consciousness like a weed.

He could see her bathed in sunlight, striding across a landscape he couldn’t quite make out. When she saw him, those liquid brown eyes rimmed in gold lit up with amusement. “Jedi.”

He was always Jedi when he was her enemy. Vanserra when she was trying to tempt him. And Lucien when—

“Still alive, I see,” he couldn’t help but say, drawing her in further. She had been his ever present companion his whole life, since he’d first had awareness of the force, he’d had an awareness of her. In some ways, they’d grown up together. Before he’d realized she was his opposite in the force, his twin in darkness, he’d thought she was a ghost. He often wondered if she’d thought the same. 

“You didn’t stick around to kill me,” she replied blithely, crouching to the ground where she procured a rather lovely bloom. Elain and her poisons. What might she have been had she been nurtured properly? 

“Next time,” he lied. Lucien couldn’t kill her even if he wanted to. One day he knew it would be a requirement of him and privately, he dreaded it. Master Tamlin had been preparing him for his battle with this Sith, unaware of the truth. No one knew the truth. It was his shameful secret. He was afraid if he admitted their connection he would be forbidden from seeking her out and someone else would kill her on his behalf. 

Lucien was certain it would be tantamount to severing his soul. 

“Liar,” she crooned, twisting the red stalked plant between her fingers. “You’re close. I can sense it.”

He knew it too. Hours from her—if that. 

“Change course, Vanserra,” she said, watching him carefully. She could feel his indecision. Everything was easy for her. She was guided by her wants, by her selfish desires. 

“I’m not coming, Elain. Not anymore.”

“Liar,” she said again, watching his fingers hover over the data pad. “I can feel you, too, you know. How tired you are. How they run you ragged all over the galaxy…how it’s never enough. They have never understood you.”

Her words were seductive because they were true. Elain watched him carefully. 

“Is this what you have, then?” he asked her. “Peace?”

She laughed, a pretty sound. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed that. Lucien’s chest ached. “No, Lucien, I don’t have peace. You were the only peace I ever had and you left.” Her every word was a curse, practically dripping with condemnation. “Just as you are restless because you crave chaos.”

There was a beat between them and then, foolishly, Lucien punched in the coordinates that would take him to her. Elain exhaled her relief, still walking towards some unknowable horizon. Bright light gilded against her hair, making her seem deceptively lovely. 

“I’ll be waiting, Lucien,” she told him before blinking out of his awareness. Any seasoned Master would warn him this was likely a trap, that he shouldn’t go alone. That he shouldn’t go at all.

Lucien knew Elain’s deepest fear, the thing that gnawed at her was the same one he shared. One day she’d be asked to kill him, that she’d have to make that final blow and cleave apart her soul. He couldn’t hide from her but she couldn’t hide from him, either. Lucien didn’t dare let himself think that he was tired of fighting her, of denying this connection. 

It took him four hours to land on the lush world Elain chose to live on. It was exactly as he’d imagined her, surrounded by wildflowers and swaying grass, tall trees and glittering lakes. At times Lucien thought the Jedi misunderstood all Sith, at least a little. Whatever connection she had to this place was based in nature and despite the humming darkness lurking beneath the vibrant, waving blooms, there was light here, too. Lucien could feel it, which meant Elain could, too. 

That was the way between them. Her darkness collided against his light, swirling like gray fog between them. Lucien had never known true, pure light when he’d always had her. The pull existed and always would, just as it would for her. Perhaps that was what she found comforting about this place and the ruined temple set atop a nearby hill. Curling ivy threatened to bring the whole thing down. Towering spires were still intact and the sprawling campus made of marble and sandstone glimmered like gold beneath the warm overhead sun. Lucien was careful not to trample anything beneath his well-worn boots as he approached the towering entry way, arched and carved with ancient Jedi symbols.

He ran his hands over the text. There is no emotion, there is peace. How did she walk beneath that every day and not find it reassuring? 

“Because there is emotion, Jedi,” she replied, reading his thoughts through the force. Elain was just inside, illuminated by a buttery shaft of light. She wore an off shoulder lavender dress and had little, poisonous blue flowers adorning her hair. Apt, he thought wryly, stepping into the cracked marble foyer. 

“And you are my peace,” she added, softening her expression ever so slightly. “I think only of you when I come in and I feel…” she trailed off, cocking her head for a moment. “I feel like you are almost with me.” He envied how open she was, how easy she found it to just say what she felt. The words were stuck to his tongue. Lucien wanted to tell her he felt the same but that familiar coldness was pricking at his chest. She sensed it. 

“I don’t have a weapon on me,” she warned him, though he knew she could drive him to his knees in other ways, with other uses of the force. “If you need to fight your feelings in a literal sense, you’ll have to give me a moment.”

It was their way. Battling with their sabers until he was exhausted and sweaty and broken down enough to admit the truth. Lucien swallowed the urge. What kind of coward couldn’t admit that he felt love? 

Elain waited, hesitant and guarded while Lucien, too, didn’t move. It took him a moment to center himself, to remind his body that love was pure and even if she was mired in darkness, she still deserved it.

He crossed the floor and swept her up, holding her tight against his body. Elain went rigid for a moment and then relaxed, twining her arms around his neck. 

“I missed you,” Lucien admitted, speaking the words into her hair. Elains grip tightened, hands holding the back of his neck through his shoulder length hair.

“It’s nice to hear you admit it,” she all but teased. Raised up on her tip-toes, she was nearly eye level with him. Lucien swallowed the urge to kiss her, ignoring that they had once done that sort of thing freely. He’d been a youngling and she…she’d been something else. Never in person, only through the force. He had a sense it would not feel the same.

Elain stepped out of his embrace, smoothing her dress carefully. “How long do you intend to stay?”

Forever. It was on the tip of his tongue. “I can’t be gone long. I will be missed.”

She nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear. “For the night?” Dangerous, to say yes. He already wanted too much, was too close to breaking every core tenant he held dear. Tell her no.

She expected him to. Lucien could see the walls going up over her expression, her tensed pose. Muscles tensed, Elain was a tightly coiled spring, ready to run for her weapons. Lucien reached for his own twin sabers hanging against his belt and dropped them loudly to the floor. For this time, there was only surrender. 

A soft light flickered just behind her eyes. “For the night,” he agreed, swallowing hard. She blinked, her shoulders relaxing. 

“Pick those up,” she murmured, reminding him that in the morning, he might very well find a blade against his neck. “Your Master would be terribly disappointed if he knew how easily you surrendered.”

“He is perpetually disappointed in me,” Lucien replied, pulling his blades to his hands all the same. She watched with fascination, though if it was his ability or his hands that held such curiosity, Lucien could not say. 

“I can’t imagine why,” Elain said softly, holding out her hand. Lucien took it without hesitation, reveling in her soft skin. “You have always been magnificent.”

And a poor Jedi who could not wholly abandon his attachments. A decent enough diplomat but too quick to pull out his blade when things didn’t go his way. Lucien knew the criticisms Master Tamlin offered him were not unfounded. He knew Elain would be subtly trying to convince him to leave just as he would be trying to pull her towards the light. One of them might win, though he doubted it would be tonight.

“Do you remember when you were a padawan?” Elain began, leading him towards spiraling, crumbling stairs? “And we used to meet at night?”

“I do,” he agreed, not daring to think about those evenings at all. Evenings spent kissing, spent touching, spent doing things he shouldn’t, because he’d realized she wasn’t a ghost at all, but his opposite in the force. A dyad, so rare it had been centuries since one was last seen. And his childhood friend wasn’t a little girl anymore but a beautiful woman who looked at him with the most absurdly gorgeous pair of eyes and told him she wanted him.

Fumbling exploration had been the defining feature of those stolen moments. Lost in an in-between world where Lucien wished, for the first time, he wasn’t a Jedi at all but just a regular man who could be with this woman the way everyone else could. 

“Has…has there been anyone since–”

“No.”

She ought to know. Elain swallowed hard, nodding her head. She’d begun picking those flowers out, tossing them at their feet like a breadcrumb trailing this terrible decision they were both about to make. 

“Neither have I,” she whispered. He wasn’t going to ask but felt relief knowing all the same. It had been him who’d ended things and had, perhaps, made her his enemy. He’d demanded she come to the light, declaring he could no longer spend his evenings with someone like her. She’d felt his shame, his regret…and she’d hated him for it.

She still did. Lucien could feel those lingering feelings of hurt and anger pulsating between them. This was a chance to set things right, if only for a night. One night Lucien feared might turn into a hundred nights if he wasn’t careful. Vowing he would go to the archives and seek out information on dyads like him, dyads where the counterpart was Sith, Lucien let her walk him through a half ruined hall overlooking the entryway they’d just been standing in. Each footstep seemed to echo in his head, a warning to turn back. This was something he could not undo. Lucien was so close to the rank of Master, to having everything he’d ever worked so hard for.

Elain pushed open a marble door with more of those same runes on the doors. She ran her fingers over them, sighing softly. 

He kept his mouth shut, well aware their night was dependent on her good will. She was steeped in the light here. What more could Lucien ask for? She wasn’t locked away in a dark mountain like he knew one of her sisters was. Elain was bathed in softness and chose, still, to walk her path. 

His every thought died when he saw the room she’d brought him to. A bedroom. Pretty pink blankets draped over a large four-poster bed draped in gold. Her clothing hung from an exposed piece of pipe half draped in more ivy. The whole room was half overtaken by her plants, a labor of love if Lucien ever saw one. 

“I’ve only ever seen you at night,” she told him, turning to face him with teeth bitten lips. She was nervous. It was a revelation to him. 

“Do you want to see me in the light?” he asked, stepping closer to the window. It was late afternoon and the golden hour was bouncing off her cheeks, making it seem as if she glowed. Elain hesitated and then nodded. Lucien set his sabers just beside her own on a white dresser on the far end of the room. Four blades made to fight, temporarily made allies instead of enemies. While Lucien’s hilts were sleek and chrome, Elain’s were wrapped in pretty pink and gold fabric, so at odds with the violent red he knew would pour through if she flipped them on. Elain took a step back, hands curled to fists at her sides while Lucien reached for his belt. He should have felt that familiar warring in his body urging him to stop, to walk away. There was a sense of rightness to his actions as he reached for his robe, pulling it over his shoulders so she could see the white shirt beneath.

“I always assumed…” she bit her lip again. Lucien almost laughed.

“I’ve had too many close calls not to put a shirt beneath my robes,” he told her, pulling the shirt over his head. Elain sucked in a soft breath while Lucien tried to pretend he wasn’t pleased she liked his body. Elain stepped closer, fingers outstretched. A large gash over his midsection was still visible, the scar not fully healed.

“I did that,” she murmured. Lucien remembered it well. Chasing her across the ice planet Illum while she tried to hunt down a new kyber crystal from the blade he’d broken. It was yet another instance in which Elain could have killed him. She’d hand her boot on his neck, her blade at his cheek.

“I can’t,” she’d whispered, as if she hadn’t cut open his insides. Lucien had been forced to stagger back to his ship holding his organs in his hand. She’d never know how close she came that day. 

“You did that,” he agreed, heart pounding at the feel of her hands against his bare skin. She didn’t say she was sorry. It would have been a lie, besides. Elain merely lowered her mouth and kissed a soft trail against the now healed wound. Lucien’s legs nearly gave out at the feel. He’d been right—having her in person was not like meeting through the force. 

It was Elain who reached for his pants, fingers sliding beneath the band for the button. “What do you wear beneath these, Jedi?” she asked breathlessly.

“Nothing,” Lucien admitted, well aware she could see the outline of his desire through the brown fabric. She stepped back again, withdrawing her hand, eyes wholly fixed on his lower half. Lucien took a moment to divest himself of his boots and socks, never taking his eyes off her. She was so utterly perfect that he forgot they were anything but lovers. 

Removing his pants was an act of trust. He was utterly naked before her, his cock jutting between his legs. Elain stared, lips parted, eyes hungry. “Just like I remember,” she whispered, her own knees trembling.

“Now you,” Lucien ordered with more authority than he felt. If he was naked than she would be too. Elain reached behind her without hesitation, unclasping the buttons of her pretty dress. There was nothing beneath. Pert breasts peaked towards the sky, set against a toned stomach with their turbulent history mapped in scars. He knew if he turned her around he’d see the remnants of a particularly violent fight etched over her spine. He’d been so afraid he’d killed her that day. 

A soft thatch of golden curls hid her pussy from him, the same one he used to tentatively touch and lick as a younger man. He wondered if it would have that same musky sweetness, if she’d still arch her hips into his face and scream. Force, but Lucien wanted to hear her come again. He wanted to taste her on his tongue, wanted to feel her wrapped around his cock.

“You look like you might kneel, Jedi,” she taunted, her words too breathless to be believable. 

“Tell me to,” Lucien replied. He wanted to be on his knees, wanted to bury himself against her. She shook her head.

“Kiss me.”

Lucien crossed the room, pulling her naked body against his own. Hooking his arm beneath the soft swell of her ass, Lucien lifted her into the air so he could kiss her without her having to stand on her tiptoes. It had been too long, he thought miserably at that first taste. Too long since they’d touched, too long since he’d let himself have her this way. Legs wrapped around his torso, Elain pulled the rest of his hair from the leather strap holding it off his face as Lucien all but pried open her lips to sweep his tongue into her mouth. The violent creature in his arms moaned, tangling her finger in the strands of his hair and tugging.

“Bed,” she gasped and Lucien was all too happy to oblige. He laid her out among the massive mattress, admiring how beautiful she was in the late golden glow. Perfect. Elain smiled when she realized he was memorizing her, reaching out her hands for him to join. 

“Come here,” she murmured and Lucien could hardly deny her this. Pressing his large, muscular frame against her much smaller one, Lucien indulged in the feeling of her soft skin, of her hands against his back, his ass, his face. His cock slid between her thighs, dragging through slickness until he was grinding against her, unable to tear his mouth from hers to do something about his terrible, aching arousal. 

“Too long,” he gasped, kissing again and again. “It’s been too long.”

“Swear you won’t stay away like before,” she panted, holding his face between her hands so he had to look at him. “Swear it, Lucien.”

“I swear, Elain,” he replied, leaning to kiss her one last time. He began his slow descent down her writhing body, relearning a palace he’d once felt so comfortable. In some ways it was like coming home, like realizing what he’d been missing had been her, had been her smooth, jasmine and honey scented skin, her peaked nipples, her raking nails. Lucien licked down her neck until he reached her breasts. He sucked the pebbled peaks into his mouth and as reward, earned one of her soft moans. 

“Lucien,” she breathed, running her fingers through his hair just like he liked. Arching her spine, Elain’s soaking pussy slid all over his leg, desperate for friction. He didn’t take his mouth off her, licking and sucking in equal measure though he did run his hand down her body until he found that slickness. Lucien rubbed over the trembling little nub, drawing another moan and another frantic jump of her hips.

He’d forgotten how responsive she was. Ignoring how he was already leaking precum and how badly he wanted to forego all the playing and feel that tight heat wrapped around him, Lucien continued his descent down her body until he had her legs spread as wide as they would go.

“I forgot how much I missed this,” Lucien whispered, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Elain was watching, head lolled over her shoulder, her hair a soft halo of gold around her gorgeous face. 

“You should never have stopped,” she whispered as he lowered his mouth.

“Forgive me,” was all Lucien could think to say before he took that first taste. Grinding his desperate cock into the sheets, Lucien was suddenly awash in a million sensations. Sliding back to his youth, when he lived and died between her legs, when he might have been tempted to give it all up for her.

How much of that did she know, did he wonder? Had she ever guessed? Lucien had always been so ashamed of it but now, as a man, he thought it all so silly. Why would the force connect them if there was something wrong about their feelings?

He merely needed to consult the archives for guidance. He didn’t have to make any rash decisions in that moment. All he had to do was eat pussy like it was his job. Lucien sucked her clit between his lips, dragging a ragged, desperate moan from her mouth.

“Too long,” Elain panted. Lucien hummed his agreement, licking that nub over and lover with the flat of his tongue. He remembered what she liked when she began to roll her hips, forcing him lower, to fuck her with his mouth before dragging back up to swirl over the clit. Lucien’s face was coated in the wet arousal of her body and when he slid two fingers in, noting how her thighs were trembling and her moans were breathier, Elain flew off the bed, screaming and grinding against him.

This, he thought hotly, pulling off her though just barely. Seated between her thighs, dragging the weeping head of his cock against her wet pussy, Lucien thought this was the only real religion. Her writhing body, her flushed lips, her bouncing tits. 

“I missed you,” Lucien breathed before pushing himself into her body. She inhaled sharply but her body remembered. There was the softest moment of tension and then she relaxed, allowing him to slide wholly into her. 

“Look at you,” Lucien praised, holding her open wide beneath his hands. Their bodies were flush, her cunt clamped impossibly tight around him. He wanted to die, nothing in his life had ever felt so good. He couldn’t believe this had filled him with shame. Maybe it was his lust talking, but Lucien didn’t think he could go another decade without being inside her. 

“I–” she didn’t finish that thought, whatever it was. Lucien had begun to slide himself out of her, pumping back in with a rough jerk of his body. They moaned in time, their shared relief a physical thing. 

“Stars, sweetheart,” Lucien whispered, settling on his elbows as he began to thrust a steady rhythm into her. Elain leaned up to kiss him and Lucien was lost for a moment. Everything faded until they were the beginning and the end, two sides of the force colliding messily, broken apart and made new. Lucien couldn’t stop himself anymore than he could have stopped her. He needed to mark her, to claim her as his.

Some small part of his brain warned him the possession he felt would be his ruin. He was normally so good at heeding those warnings but just then Lucien banished it. He didn’t care, didn’t want to analyze what he felt. What he felt was good. Whole. Right, for maybe the first time in his life. 

There was no sound as the sun began to set but the sucking slap of their skin combined with their mingled moans of more and please. Elain came first in an explosion of messy passion, her teeth biting against his shoulder so hard he was sure she’d broken his skin. It was enough to send him careening over the edge, pouring himself inside her before he could think better of it.

“You promised me all night,” Elain breathed, reaching for him when he pulled back to watch his come slide out of her body. Using the head of his cock, Lucien pushed it back in, dragging himself through their combined release.

“I’m not leaving. Not yet.”

Elain exhaled, those gold rimmed eyes relaxing. “Then come here,” she whispered.

And Lucien did exactly as she asked.

One night became too many. Lucien had a million excuses as to why he needed to be out in the Mid-Rim, why he was away longer than usual. Nights stolen with Elain became Lucien’s favorite thing. Sometimes they had time to talk, to lace their fingers together and stare up at the stars in the middle of a soft patch of grass. Other times he barely made it out of the hold of his ship before she was sprinting towards him, tackling him against the cool metal to satisfy their need. It was all Lucien thought about anymore.

That, and what it meant to be a dyad at all. He could find no written records of a pair like them, though he was certain it must have existed. Two people connected by the force who were also in love with the other. Because that’s what it was, even if she hadn’t said it and neither had he, he knew what it was. Lucien knew when Elain popped up in the middle of the day just to see him and when he pushed into her consciousness at night to tell her he missed her. 

He had broken too many rules, not that anyone had noticed. He could see the path barrelling towards him and too late, Lucien remembered why he had cut her off in the first place. Lucien could not have both. He could not have Elain and the Jedi path. Too often, he wondered if she wasn’t ready to leave it all behind, too. If she wanted to just step away, to find a space beyond Sith and Jedi where they could just be. 

“Do you have a moment?” Master Tamlin cut through Lucien’s musings in the meditation chamber. “Can we talk?”

Lucien nodded, certain his master had discovered his secret. Tamlin, with his forest green eyes and his shoulder length, blonde hair had been Lucien’s ever present friend these long twenty something years. He’d been nine years old when Tamlin chose him and Lucien had been infinitely grateful the warrior had seen anything worth mentoring at all.

How disappointed would Tamlin be if he knew how Lucien had failed him? Of the secrets Lucien had been keeping? He knew if he’d gone to Tamlin earnestly, his mentor would have helped him sever the connection entirely.

Standing, Lucien left the darkened chamber to join Tamlin in the light. “What is it?”

“I have only good news today, “Tamlin said, putting his hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “After you completion of the trials, you know I couldn’t have been prouder. Watching you move through the force…and your skill, your devotion, well. When Master Rhysand vacated his seat, I urged the council to consider you.”

Lucien froze. He’d imagined decades before he was ever granted such an honor. “Master, I…”

“They wish to tell you but I could not help but tell you first.” Hands on Lucien’s shoulders, Tamlin held Lucien’s gaze. “You are a Jedi Master in every sense of the word and I know you will do great things.” How did Lucien tell his oldest friend he was genuinely considering leaving? Swallowing hard, Lucien followed his master over gleaming durasteel floors, so shiny he could see his own terrified reflection. 

“I feel your stress,” Tamlin murmured, unaware of the beat of panic that pulsed through his shared bond with Elain. Lucien pushed her out for a moment. “There is no need for it. You were chosen carefully, with much thought. I trust in you and your judgment.”

How did Lucien explain to his oldest friend and mentor he was considering leaving the Order entirely? Another pulse of Elain’s frustration bit through him. She’d told him only a month before she wanted to talk to him, that she had something urgent to say. Lucien had sworn to see her just as soon as he could and wondered if this wasn’t an extension of that conversation. Maybe she’d realized what was happening and decided to just force the conversation now.

Later, he sent back before closing the connection entirely. I’ll talk to you later.

He heard her frustrated screaming in his mind for only a moment before everything went dark. That wasn’t unusual—it was her favorite way of punishing him when he wasn’t available, cutting contact until he was buzzing with worry. Lucien couldn’t think about her, not as he followed after Tamlin over gleaming durasteel floors, so shiny he could see his own terrified reflection staring back. 

The double doors into the Masters chambers opened and twelve smiling faces looked back at him. Lucien almost vomited on the floor, even as his traitorous mind wondered who had voted against him. Ancient Master Amren, certainly. Master Emerie, too, if he had to guess.

It doesn’t matter.

But it does. 

“Master Tamlin gave you the good news?” Master Amren asked, rising from her seat.

“Yes. I am…” he was what? Grateful? This should have been the best day of his life and it was tainted by his worry for Elain. “So honored you would consider me at all.”

“You will do great things, young Master Vanserra,” Master Tarquin murmured, gesturing for Lucien to take a seat in one of the large, red-lined chairs. He could see all of Coruscant from his spot, like a king surveying his domain. Of course the Jedi were not rulers and yet from his perch, he certainly felt like one.

It was all wrong.

“Normally we have a celebration but we have another matter to consider,” Master Kallias murmured as the room nodded. “Master Tamlin has captured a Sith.”

Elain’s screaming echoed through his mind.

Tamlin, seated just beside Lucien, nodded his head. “She’s being held under the temple for now. I do not think she can be persuaded into seeing reason. She is…quite feral.” Lucien didn’t dare move. It wasn’t Elain. It was only a coincidence. 

“To have one of the Archeron sisters—”

Lucien almost threw up on the floor again. He couldn’t risk opening the bond between them and yet his ears were buzzing. Trust only in the force. Lucien knew it was her in one of those cells beneath the temple, just as he knew they would decide killing to be a mercy. He swallowed his fear before anyone realized what was happening. He’d just go down and talk to her. He’d help, he’d–

“Pregnant,” Tamlin continued, turning Lucien’s blood to ice. “So we’ll need to wait, I think. Move her off-world.”

“Use her as bait?” Lucien interrupted, his words colder than he’d meant.

“Her sisters will come,” Emerie reminded him. Lucien’s fingers itched towards his saber. His child, that was his child—

“It’s wrong,” Lucien breathed, unable to focus. No one noticed, not as Lucien recentered himself in the force, willing himself to feel nothing at all. Just for the meeting. Just until he could go down and see her.

“I will oversee her transport,” Tamlin murmured as the meeting concluded. Lucien looked over at his Master. His friend.

“I’ll accompany you.”

Tamlin smiled.

But Lucien was going to kill him. He decided it in that moment without any of the hesitation that had always plagued him. Peace stole over him for the first time and Lucien understood what Elain meant when she said he was the only peace she’d ever known. There was comfort in making a decision, regardless of what it was.

He chose her. Above everything. Above his whole life, he chose her, he chose that baby. 

It took Tamlin most of the remaining day to ready a ship, to find the appropriate guards, to finally lead Lucien down the winding, stone cut stairs to the cells far underground. The smell of rot permeated his senses. This was no place for the mother of his unborn child. He swallowed his hatred so Tamlin would not sense it. His former Master misread his unease.

“I loathe this place as well. It used to be a sanctuary for the dark.” Lucien could feel it, that humming cold invading his bones. It wasn’t corruption like he’d always imagined—it was more like admitting a certain truth that he’d tried too hard to avoid. 

Welcome, welcome, welcome, the shadows chanted. 

Elain sat on an overturned box, disarmed of her weapons and dressed in her usual black. A slash across her cheek had made her usual beautiful face too pale. She’d likely backed down quicker than usual, terrified for the life living inside her. Their eyes met. Brown, rimmed in gold, widened at whatever she saw.

“You have no force ability down here,” Tamlin warned, one hand holding his unlit green saber. “If you try and run, I will cut you down.

Her eyes watched only him, gripping the blade on his belt, ready to stop his Master if he tried. She hesitated and then nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “As you say, Jedi.”

Tamlin unlocked the cell with the pad of his thumb and the two guards, draped in white and red, rushed in with stun cuffs. Elain merely held out her wrists, smirking as she did so. Like the whole charade amused her. 

She was a spectacle, walking silently through the temple. What had she been doing so close to the core? Had she been looking for him? Had she thought she’d come see him, would tell him in person? Lucien swallowed his guilt as they paraded towards the landing pad where a sleek, small cruiser awaited them. She balked when she saw it.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“A prison world,” Tamlin replied. “You will have your baby under the watchful eye–”

“No,” she breathed, twisting to look at Lucien. “No, you can’t—”

“There is no use fighting,” Tamlin all but snarled, struggling to contain his patience. “You will—”

Lucien couldn’t stand another second of it. Igniting his blade, he took down both guards on that landing pad before Tamlin could blink. His Master, once his closest friend, stood agape, reaching for his own saber. Lucien held his nearly parallel to Tamlin’s neck.

“I wouldn’t,” he warned.

“You didn’t,” Tamlin breathed, eyes sliding towards Elain, still restrained just beside him. “I vouched for you.”

“I would have told you I was leaving if you asked,” Lucien breathed, saying the words aloud for Elain to hear. “I don’t want to be a Master…or to be part of the order.”

It was almost freeing to admit what he’d always known out loud.

“Stand down, Lucien,” Tamlin warned. He didn’t understand the lengths Lucien was willing to go to in that moment. Perhaps he merely underestimated how serious Lucien was. Lucien would never know what prompted Tamlin to reach for his blade, despite Lucien’s saber at his throat. The warrior who had trained him, who had shaped him feel to the ground like little more than garbage when Lucien ignited his second blade, divesting Tamlin of his head in one fell swoop.

Beside him, Elain pushed closer. “They’ll be coming. You need to go.” Lucien took Tamlin’s saber, recognizing she’d need something to defend herself with, before pushing them both into the ship. He punched in random coordinates, just enough to get them into a lightspeed lane while he disabled the tracking. 

No one came as Lucien pulled into the atmosphere. He took one look backwards at the landing pad and the three bodies he’d so casually left behind. Elain tugged at her restraints, drawing him back to the immediate. Divesting her of them, Lucien pulled Elain into his lap in the pilots chair and kissed her until he couldn’t think straight. 

“We’re going to crash,” she whispered, pulling the accelerator overhead. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, running a hand over her semi-exposed midsection. “I was going to come—”

“I was coming for you,” she said instead. “I was going to bring you home. What changed?”

“You,” Lucien told her as the galaxy came into view, hand still pressed to his stomach. “The both of you, but always you. I’ve been fighting you my entire life and I don’t know why.”

“Was what you told that man true?” she asked him as everything bled into blue and white, taking them screaming away from the interior. Lucien intended to let them travel a little before disabling and pulling out. There would be those in the temple who would use the force to try and sense his location, even bathed in darkness. They would want him to atone for Master Tamlin’s death. 

Lucien wasn’t sorry. Some new, angry part of him wished he’d killed the entire council before he left. 

“Yes,” Lucien breathed, mouth against her jaw. “It was true the first moment I saw you. I only regret making you wait so long.”

“Because if you don’t want us—”

“I do—”

“I always meant to free you of the burden—”

“You are no burden to me—”

“So you could continue on with your life—”

“Elain,” he protested, lips still pressed against her skin. “You are my life. You always have been. I was foolish to ever think otherwise. Scared and foolish. You and this baby are everything to me.”

She blinked, rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks. “Swear it?”

“On my life,” Lucien replied, holding her close. “I love you, and I swear it on this life and another others I might live.”

“And is that how you mean to defend it?” she asked him, clearly riding the high of Lucien’s feelings. “In blood?”

“With pleasure,” he snarled, capturing her lips with his. Elain moaned, raking her fingers through his hair roughly. There would be time to lay her back out like he still dreamt of. To bury his face between her legs and feast like a vicious, rabid thing. In that moment, speeding as far from the inner rim as possible, Lucien only bothered with getting them semi-undressed, just enough to slot himself against her.

“If anyone ever touches you again,” he breathed, thinking of how Tamlin had put those stun cuffs on her wrists. He brushed his knuckles over the cut on her pretty face before slamming his cock into her body. “I’ll kill them.”

Elain moaned, kissing him messily. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“I would have waited,” she panted, clenched so tight Lucien could barely breathe. “For the rest of my life, I would have waited for you.”

“Say it,” he ordered. Her eyes flew open, searching his own. A strange new feeling had invaded his chest, filling him with that same turbulent sense of calm. It was colder than he was used to but still familiar. Like Elain’s presence had finally rooted in him fully, spreading outward from his chest to his very fingertips. It was the dark side, he realized, and from the curling smile on her lips, he guessed she could see it made manifest on his face.

“I love you,” she told him, kissing him sweetly despite their frantically thrusting hips.

He came like a bomb, dragging her down, down down. Down into the darkness, into that frigid abyss. Somewhere that, despite its lack of warmth, she could still make things grow. 

Lucien reached behind him, destroying the paneling while she continued to cant her hips, still coming down from her orgasm. 

“We can’t go back home. Not yet,” she breathed. Home. The rightness of it clanged through him.

Lucien grinned.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeves,” he murmured with another kiss.

“My brother is a prince, after all.”

Elain blinked before she, too, smiled.

“By all means, then. Lead the way.”

Lucien would have gone anywhere at all.

So long as he had her.

[thighs-of-betrayal-blog]

hi, this is about the part 2 to stakeout company. maybe when they get home, they kinda don't talk about it but are very affectionate with each other, like maybe they cuddle on the couch in the common room or hold hands and stuff and the team notices and maybe sam gets enough of it and asks what's going on between them but they look at each other and are like, 'we dont know, we haven't really talked about it' and maybe bucky says 'but im pretty sure we're together' and then sam freaks out and leaves and then reader teases bucky about it and they kiss?

i dont know, maybe its a shitty idea but its an idea nonetheless and dont do it if you dont want to

much love x

Time to Talk

Part 2 to "Stakeout Company"

A/N: This could never be a shitty idea! It’s amazing and I’m so happy you sent it in!! Thank you so much, love! :)

I hope you all enjoy and as always, any feedback is appreciated!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, violence, weapons 

Part 1

The past week has been… interesting, to say the least. After Bucky’s affectionate cuddling session with you during your stakeout, the two of you have been acting like a couple. Funny thing is though, you’re not. You haven’t even discussed what went down during the mission. There’s unspoken words between you and you both know it. You’re just living in blissful avoidance. 

Bucky’s never been great at expressing his feelings and you, well you are supposed to hate him. That’s what everyone else thinks anyway. You feel like it’s easier to keep up the façade then explain it to everyone, but unknown to you, some have already noticed. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon and after a long, morning training, you and Bucky are sitting on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna be so fucking sore,” you groan. 

Bucky rests his hand on your thigh. “Maybe I can-” 

“Maybe you can what?” 

The two of you jump apart at the sound of Sam’s voice as he sits down on the chair across from you, staring at you expectantly. 

Your hand is resting over your heart as it beats erratically in your chest. “Sam! You scared me. I didn’t know you were standing there.” 

“I bet you didn’t. Otherwise, I’m sure you two wouldn’t have been acting the way you just were.” 

Bucky sighs. “Look, Sam, we can explain.” 

“Can you? I thought you two hated each other and now, you’re all cuddly and shit. I’m confused. The whole team’s confused. Hell, even you two look confused.”

You look over at Bucky. “Well, we haven’t really talked about it.”

Bucky looks back at you and nods. “Yeah, we haven’t.” A grin appears on his face. “But, I wouldn’t mind if we were official.” 

All the feelings you’ve been recently suppressing come sliding up your body, ready to slip out at any moment. You fight to keep them down, not wanting to scare Bucky away with how much you actually care for him. 

“I’ve gotta go.” Standing up, you give Bucky one last glance before rushing towards the elevator, your heart breaking with each step. 

---

You realized the next day that you crushed Bucky’s heart. He avoided you at all costs, refusing to even look at you. 

Now, a week later, you’re on a mission and of course, you’ve been paired up with him. 

As the two of you walk through the building, it’s dead silent, neither of you daring to speak. You want to apologize, tell him you were just scared, but the looks he’s giving you makes you think you should just keep quiet. 

“Y/N, Buck. You guys almost in the lab?” Sam asks over the comms. 

You steal a glance at Bucky and sigh. “Yeah, right down the hallway. I’ll let you know when we’re in.” 

When you enter the lab, you split up, the both of you heading in opposite directions to download data from the computer systems. 

It’s now that you decide it’s a good time to talk. “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

Bucky groans. “Seriously, Y/N? You wanna have this talk now?” 

Sticking your flash drive into the computer, you click to start the transfer process. “Why not now? We’re alone.” 

“Are you really though?” 

Quickly turning around, you face off with three guards. “Shit. I was really hoping to have a breakthrough with the man I have feelings for, guys. Is that too much to ask for?” 

Bucky’s head whips to the side. “You have feelings for me?” 

One of the guards chuckles. “This is cute and all, but you’re not leaving with that flash drive.” 

You look down at the drive in your hand. “Oh, right.” You smirk. “Guess you’ll have to come and get it.” 

One of the guards rushes you and you jump to the side, pocketing the flash drive into your boot before fishing around in your belt for your knives. When you come up empty handed, you want to kick yourself. You forgot them. You actually forgot to bring your knives to a mission. 

“Fuck me,” you groan out loud. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asks from across the room, in the middle of dodging a punch from one of the guards.

You kick your leg into a guard’s chest. “Forgot my knives!”

In an instant, a knife slides your way. “Take one of mine!” 

Picking up the knife, you send a quick grin in Bucky’s direction. “God, I like you so much.” 

Bucky grunts and continues dodging punches. “Why’d you run off like that then?” 

You slash the knife at the guard in front of you, narrowly missing his chest by a few inches. “I was scared! It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone romantically and you make me feel things I’ve never felt before!” 

The guard kicks out at you and you flip onto the floor, slicing your knife into his ankle. He groans as his step falters. 

“You don’t ever have to be scared with me, doll! I’ll always protect you!” 

As the guard is focused on his ankle, you climb up to his neck, wrapping your thighs tightly around his throat. “I know you would! I’m just an idiot!” 

You use all your strength to knock the guard over, falling onto your back hard. You groan, but continue to choke him until he passes out. Once he does, you’re back on your feet, heading towards Bucky and the two other guards. 

Bucky gives you a quick smile. “You’re my idiot.” 

You smile to yourself as you lunge at one of the guards, throwing your hand out to punch him in the throat. “Did you hear that?” You question the guard. “I’m his idiot. How sweet.” 

Bucky lets out a deep chuckle as he knocks the guard he’s fighting in the head with the blunt of his knife. The guard falls down in a heap, landing right at Bucky’s feet. 

When he turns to look at you and the guard you’re fighting, he swipes the sweat off his forehead. “Let’s hurry this up so I can kiss you already.” 

“Sounds good to me!” 

The two of you swarm the last guard together. Bucky grabs his waist, while you swing your leg in the air, kicking him square in the head. Bucky ducks before your foot connects with the guard’s head, sending him into the wall next to you. 

When you look at Bucky, he’s already staring at you. “Is this what we’ll be doing now as a couple? Fighting together? Because it’s kinda hot.” 

You smack his arm. “You’re insatiable.” 

Grabbing your arms, he pulls you towards him. “Only for you, doll.” He grabs your chin, tilting your head up to his. “Now about that kiss-”

His lips press against yours, claiming your mouth. “Worth the wait,” he groans into the kiss. 

You chuckle before kissing him harder, biting down on his lower lip. 

Bucky grips your waist. “The things I’m gonna do to-” 

“We can hear you, ya know!” Sam yells in the ear comms, disgust laced in his voice. 

Laughing, the two of you separate while grabbing your comms in sync and throwing them onto the ground. 

“That solves that problem,” Bucky laughs before pressing his lips back onto yours. 

It sure does, you think to yourself, getting lost in the feel of him against you. It sure does.

[starks-hero]

I Missed You

Pairing: Stucky x Fem!Reader

Request: Hi! Could you write something about Stucky coming home after a mission to find their girl crying on the couch, late at night. They are worried, initially, but relax after she shows them a video on her phone of a cute dog or puppy? - anonymous

Summary: After one long and tiresome mission, Steve and Bucky want nothing more than to go home and cuddle up with their girl.

Word Count: 1,424

Warnings: fluff

Steve and Bucky laboured up the stairs towards their apartment, their shoulders brushing. Every single muscle ached and Steve couldn’t bite back a groan each time he was forced to put pressure on his left foot. 

They didn't say much, they were too tired for conversation. They just wanted to get home, change out of their gear and then crawl into bed with their girl.

As both men reached their door, Bucky all but collapsed against the wall as Steve fumbled with the key, lazily dragging it across the wood till it slipped snugly into the lock.

Bucky's eyes were closed but a tired smile tugged at his lips at the thought of you waiting for them on the other side of the door. He wanted to hold you so bad. To just gather you up in his arms and fall asleep with your hand gently running through his hair until the latest mission was nothing more than a distant memory.

He titled his head lazily and glanced at Steve. The blonde's expression told him he felt the same way.

As the door opened, both soldiers almost tripped over each other's feet as they hurried inside, Steve softly closing the door behind them. Bucky sighed dramatically as he was surrounded by the comforts of home, earning him a half-hearted glare from Steve.

“Quiet down, Buck. It's late.” He reminded him. “She's probably asleep.”

Bucky nodded, scratching at his beard as he followed Steve into the living room. The television was still playing lowly in the background and the boys glanced at each other questioningly. Soft smiles replaced their confused expressions when their eyes landed on the couch. Amidst the darkened room and the heaps of blankets and pillows, they could barely make out your form.

Bucky wasted no time in stepping towards you with Steve hot on his heel. God how they'd missed you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky hummed gently. “Hope you don't mind that we made it home a little earlier than expected.”

The playfulness in his tone died out immediately as he neared you. The light illuminating from the television proved to be just enough for Bucky to make out your tear-stained cheeks and his heart almost stopped.

“Doll, what happened?” He immediately rushed to your side, hand hovering over your back as he looked you over for any sign of injury. Steve leapt forward at Bucky’s worried tone and joined you both on the couch. You frantically wiped at your eyes, trying to hide your tears as both men seated themselves on either side of you.

“Stevie, Buck-”

“It's alright, Sweetheart. We're here.” Steve comforted gently, arm wrapping around your waist as he carefully guided you into his side. “What's wrong?”

You breathed out a quiet laugh as you wiped away the last of your tears. Both Steve and Bucky were staring at you intently.

“I just missed you both,” you mumbled and you heard the boys breathe a sigh of relief. Bucky moved closer and gingerly kissed your head as Steve held you.

“We missed you too, Baby.” His hand comfortingly ran down your back, his nose grazing your jaw.

Steve placed his own kiss against your cheek and you smiled. You were sandwiched between them both, exactly where you wanted to be.

“You want to tell us what's got you so upset?” Steve urged gently, raising his eyebrows and smiling softly. The same way he always did when either you or Bucky were having a bad day.

You shook your head and waved your hand dismissively. “It's stupid, Steve. Besides, I'm fine now, it doesn't matter.”

“Hey now, don't talk like that. If it's upset you then it's not stupid. Not to us.” Steve's tone was soft and encouraging.

“Steve, I promise, I'm okay.”

Before Steve could pry any further, Bucky cut in, gently nudging you in the side.

“This wouldn't be the reason for those tears, now would it, doll?” He held up your phone for you all to see, the screen still paused on the video you'd been watching before they'd gotten home. Bucky seemed slightly amused but Steve was still staring at the screen in curiosity, confused as to what about such a wholesome video had made you so upset.

You snatched the phone from Bucky's hand and he let you. Any other day he probably would have held said phone just out of your reach, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes or press up against his chest to retrieve it. But he knew better. Now wasn't the time. Not to mention that if he did Steve would probably make him sleep on the couch as punishment.

You held the phone in your hand and refused to meet either of their gazes but Bucky was quick to snap you out of it.

“Y/N, you know you can talk to us. However simple or stupid you may think whatever's upsetting you is, you know we're here to listen.”

“Always.” Steve agreed.

You grumbled before giving in. You knew neither of them were going to leave you alone until they were sure you were okay.

“I've just been feeling down since you guys left for the mission last week.” You confessed and both men glanced at you sympathetically. “I missed you both, tonight especially. So I tried to watch some cute videos to cheer myself up and-” you glared at the adorable shepherd puppies currently gracing the phone screen. “It didn't help.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve started gently once you'd finished. “We told you to call if you needed us. Even just to talk or fall asleep with us on screen.”

“I didn't want to bother you when you were on a mission.” You admitted sheepishly and both men chuckled slightly at your words.

“Mission or not, it doesn't matter. You're our priority. Always.”

Steve released you slightly from his hold so that Bucky could pull you into him. You sighed against his shoulder. The horrid feeling that had settled in your stomach the moment both Steve and Bucky had walked out the door a little over a week ago was already dissipating. This was exactly what you needed. They were exactly what you needed.

“Why don't we take this to the bedroom?” Bucky suggested as he noticed your head contently lulling against his shoulder. He scoffed as both you and Steve turned to him with an expression that asked ‘really?’

“I meant to sleep.” He clarified and Steve couldn't help but chuckle.

“Sure you did, Punk.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond but you ended the argument before it could start with a quiet, “Sleep sounds like a good idea.” You threw in a yawn for good measure.

Bucky wordlessly nodded to Steve and they smiled. Bucky readjusted his hold on you as he lifted you from the couch and into his arms.

Steve switched off the television and assured the house was locked down for the night as Bucky carried you to the bedroom. He gingerly placed you down before stripping and clambering in next to you, his aching body almost sinking right into the mattress.

A cool mental hand settled on your waist as you rested your head on his chest. Steve wandered into the bedroom a few minutes later, smiling softly at the sight of you and Bucky curled up and already dozing off.

He kicked off his boots and pants and pulled his shirt off over his head. Sliding in behind you, he slid an arm over you, resting it just over Bucky's stomach. You were perfectly encased in-between them both.

“Steve, Bucky?” You mumbled their names quietly just as they were on the brink of sleep.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” Steve rasped and Bucky hummed against your temple.

“Can we get a dog?”

You could feel the chuckle that shook Bucky's chest at your request and Steve cracked a tired smile, shuffling closer to you.

“Think about it, that way when you two are off saving the world I won't be so lonely here on my own.” You rambled on drowsily.

“She makes a compelling case, Stevie,” Bucky smirked, cracking open an eye to glance over at the blonde. He couldn't keep the amusement from seeping into his tone.

“We'll talk about it in the morning, Baby. Just get some rest for now.” Steve yawned, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to silently put an end to the conversation.

“That's a yes.” Bucky clarified and Steve harmlessly jabbed Bucky in the gut, electing a fond chuckle. You smiled, just glad to have your boys home.

tag list: @miraclesoflove​​ @doozywoozy​​ @bakerstreethound​​ @kealohilani-tepise

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[imaginedisish]

The Adults are Talking (Tenet) Neil x Reader

A/N: HEY GUYS!!! HERE IS THE SMUT!!! This is my first time writing smut in a long time, so I’m sorry if it’s awkward ahhh!!! It’s 3:30 over here on the East Coast of the US, so I’m going to BEDDDD!!!! Enjoy!

Summary: (dom!)Neil teaches you a lesson for being forgetful and late, and it’s the type of lesson you're sure to never forget. 

Warnings: SMUT, SO MUCH SMUT. Overstimulation, lot’s of cursing, minor violence, and a very dominant Neil, so this is very much 18+, read at your own risk...

Word Count: 3,747

I’m so fucking late, You think to yourself. 

Nervousness swells in your gut as your black boots press harshly into green grass below your feet. Your eyes search the crowd around you as shoulders hurriedly crash into your chest. No one apologizes, they just keep moving as they try to get a better view of what lies at the front of the crowd. 

You were 10 minutes late for a training session with the new recruits. You knew that Neil would most likely tease you endlessly for it. You were late because of him, after all. 

You and Neil had been secretly together for quite sometime, which meant extensive sneaking around, just like a couple of teenagers. Usually you would go to his room while everyone was still eating dinner in the cafeteria, spend some time together, and then head back into your room to go to sleep. No one saw a thing. No questions were asked. 

But this time was different. This time, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms. 

I’m an idiot, You think to yourself as you push a hand through your dampened hair. Neil decided to steal the keys to your room and run into the shower ahead of you as a playful punishment for your forgetfulness. 

“I don’t know what to say, but I’m disappointed, (Y/N)!” Neil sarcastically sings through the other side of the bathroom door. 

You rush over to the door, and knock a few times. “Come on Neil, let me in, or at least give me my keys so I can shower in my room!” You can’t help but smile, despite the fact that you were definitely going to be late. 

“No, I’m teaching you a lesson here,” Neil pauses, “And then after the training session, I’ll teach you another.” You feel your cheeks flush with redness. 

Your heart somersaults in your chest at the thought of the other lesson Neil had planned.

You look around, forcing yourself to focus. You can easily tell that you stick out like a sore thumb amongst the new recruits. You look far too polished and put together to be new. You’re too…sophisticated. Your black, faux leather dress pants and tight black turtleneck clash against the beige and green bodies spread across the open field. Still, despite your appearance, you get the feeling that you’re a freshman being judged by the older kids, when in reality it should be the other way around. You shake the feeling off, remembering that you have nothing to prove. 

While you weren’t recruited to Tenet too long ago, you were granted extremely high clearance almost immediately. TP saw something special in you from the very second he met you. You were skilled in hand to hand combat, and you could shoot a gun better than anyone, better than Ives, better than Neil, even better than TP.  After all, you were a high level CIA operative before you were recruited to join Tenet. Your training goes back years. 

“(Y/N)!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the near distance. You stand on your tippy toes, searching for the dirty blonde head that matched the voice. 

Out of the corner of your eye you spot two slender, toned arms waving erratically at the front of the crowd. He smirks, and waves even faster as he realizes that you’ve found him. You push through the recruits as you get closer to the front. 

All of a sudden, a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the sea of people. 

“Took you long enough,” Neil says, a cocky grin spread across his face. Your heart thumps in your chest. His long fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. He pulls you closer to him, and brings his lips to your right ear, “Try to be faster next time, love, and maybe I’ll go easier on you.” 

You feel your face redden with heat. He lets you go, but you’re all shaken up now. You almost wish he held on. A shiver travels down your spine. Your mind is too foggy with thoughts of Neil to recognize that Ives had already started talking. 

You clear your throat, still focused on what Neil had just said. “G-go easier on me?” 

With the blink of an eye, Neil grabs your waist, and pins you down to the ground. He presses his right hand into the center of your chest. He pulls a knife from his back left pocket and points it in the direction of your throat. The recruits rowdily cheer Neil on. He smirks, basking in the attention. You can’t even imagine how red your face is now. 

“And at this point,” Ives pauses as a slight smile tugs at his lips. He looks down to you, “We can see that Neil has the advantage. It’s safe to say that (Y/N) would be dead if she were the enemy.” Neil puts the knife back into his pocket, and stands up.

He extends a hand out to you, and you grab it, grateful for the assistance. That is, until he twists your arm, turning you to face the crowd. His right arm pulls your back into his chest. Your hips brush against his. He pulls you even closer so that you’re glued against him. You’re stuck; there’s nowhere to go. He takes his knife out of his pocket and brings it to your neck again. 

You swear that you can feel him pushing his crotch against your lower half. 

“Are you alright, darling,” He mumbles against the skin of your neck. You can feel his gaze land on your face. You swallow harshly and nod. “Good,” Neil says in response. “I wouldn’t want you too beat up, especially for later.” 

Later? You think to yourself as you ignore Ives’s description of Neil’s move. “What’s happening later?” You whisper back to him. 

He lets you go and gives you a smug look that reads, You should know already, love. 

You breathe in sharply as your mind races with thoughts of Neil. Now wasn’t the time for this. You were embarrassing yourself in front of the new recruits. They were going to think you were weak. 

You tilt your head side to side, cracking your neck slightly. You roll your shoulders back and get into your fighting stance. You’re ready this time. You tune everything out and focus on Neil’s movements. He flashes a smile your way but you know he’s trying to distract you. The recruits’ cheers quiet down a bit as their interest piques. 

“You’re so unbelievably cocky, Neil. It’ll be the death of you,” You playfully remark. Neil furrows his brows and squints his eyes. He takes a single step towards you and you take a single step back. 

Neil chuckles, “What? You’re too scared to get any closer to me?” You can tell Neil’s guard is down. You’ve got him right where you want him.

The left corner of your mouth turns up slightly. You rush towards him, stepping onto your left foot and round housing Neil on the right side of his stomach. He buckles over. You feel a twinge of guilt before you take another step, sliding down to the ground, and kicking your legs into Neil’s ankles in a circular motion from left to right. You sweep him off his feet and he falls to the ground. You stand back up and look down at him. 

“Now that’s what I call a comeback!” Ives shouts. The new recruits roar in excitement. You reach out your right hand to Neil and he takes it. He gets back on his feet and brushes off the dirt from his navy blue dress shirt.

Neil shakes his head in defeat. “Yeah, I guess she got me back,” He says taking a step towards you. He lowers his voice and says something that’s clearly only meant for you to hear, 

“But I’ll get you back later.” 

Later, the word repeats itself over and over in your head. 

“Alright everyone! We’ll reconvene after lunch!” Ives yells, and the recruits make their way back into the boxy white building that houses the Tenet headquarters. 

Neil and Ives walk a few feet away from you and begin to chat. Ives briefly looks concerned, but Neil waves his hand, appearing to reassure him about something you’re not supposed to hear. Ives shakes his head as the concerned look falls back upon his face. He breaks his stare from Neil and looks towards you. 

You take that as your cue to walk over. “I kicked your ass there, didn’t I?” You say jokingly, nudging into Neil’s side with your elbow. 

Neil sighs and moves his head to turn towards you. “The adults are talking, (Y/N), pipe down love.” The sense of elitism in Neil’s words are carried through an ever so dominant tone. You know he’s teasing you, but you can also tell he’s trying to get under you skin. 

Ives chuckles, “The ‘adults’? Neil, since when have you proved to me that you’re an adult?” You can’t help laugh at Ives’s dig at Neil. Ives’s laughing continues as turns away from you and Neil and follows closely behind the recruits. 

You take a step forwards to walk behind Ives, expecting Neil to come along as well, but he doesn’t. He grabs your upper arm and pulls you towards him. 

“Thought you could get away?” He stares into your eyes. “You didn’t forget about what I said earlier, did you?” He questions, his grip growing tighter around your arm. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you think of some sort of response. “I-I-,” But you’re speechless. 

Neil’s eyes pierce through your soul and he parts his lips, “I believe I told you that I’d be teaching you a lesson, didn’t I?” His domineering voice leaves goosebumps on your arms. 

You look around, noticing that everyone had already gone inside. It was just you and Neil now. 

Neil pulls you closer to him yet again. “You still haven’t answered, love,” He says softly as his free hand glides down your side, settling finally on your hip. 

“Yes,” You mumble under your breath. You can’t concentrate. You’re too wrapped up in the thought of Neil pinning you down to the ground and taking you right here and now. 

Neil releases your hip and begins to walk you towards the building. “Good,” He says nonchalantly. You walk across the green field and onto the concrete sidewalk that outlines the shape of the headquarters. You finally approach a door. Neil opens it and brings you inside. He instinctively lets go of your arm the second you enter the building, as the sounds of people and the flow of pedestrian traffic overwhelms your senses. 

“Follow me,” Neil demands. He walks in front of you, and you follow close behind. You walk down a series of similar hallways before recognizing where you are. 

You’re headed towards the living quarters of the building. 

You swallow hard, trying to keep up with Neil. He turns around to catch a glimpse of you, and notices that you’re starting a slow down a bit. 

He grins confidently as he closes the gap between you and him. “What? Are you overwhelmed, darling?” He questions as his hands land on your waist. 

“Neil,” You whisper, “What if someone sees us?” 

Neil pulls you against his chest. “That just makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?”  

You gasp as he pulls the collar of your turtleneck down a bit, bringing his lips to your neck, planting soft kisses on your now exposed skin. He sucks lightly. You look around. The coast is clear, but you know it won’t be for long. 

“N-Neil,” You moan. Neil’s lips leave your neck in response, and he brings his left hand up to cover your mouth. 

He looks left, and then right, searching for somewhere to go. There’s a single door at the end of the hallway. He uncovers your mouth and grabs your wrist. He practically runs into the door before twisting the knob and pushing it open. 

He pulls you into the room as the door shuts behind you. 

“What happened to going back to your room?” You ask, confused as to why you’re in what appears to be a dark, tiny, unused office.

“Because, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You feel your need for him growing. He takes a step towards you so that your back is up against the door. Neil reaches behind you and twists the lock. 

You can feel yourself getting more and more wet. You need friction between your legs. The sensation is driving you crazy.

Neil’s hands secure themselves onto your hips, pushing you harder into the door. His lips find themselves in the crook of your neck again, but this time Neil is rougher. He lightly sucks your skin, intending to leave his mark on your. You moan in pleasure as Neil’s right hand finds its way in between your legs, spreading them a part slightly. 

“You need me, don’t you?” He asks as his lips leave your neck. His ocean eyes deeply stare into yours. 

You breathe shallowly. “Y-yes,” You stutter. 

Neil grins. “I thought so.” He grabs your waist again, picking you up and setting you down on the desk that’s on other side of the tiny room. He grabs the inside of your thighs and parts your legs with his hand, filling the newly made gap with his body. He rests his right hand on your thigh, and his left on your waist. 

“Please, Neil,” You murmur, wanting him to touch you where you need him most. 

“Please what?” Neil asks, his face moves closer to yours. 

“Please,” You pause as your heart beats out of your chest, “Touch me.”

Neil’s lips crash into yours as his hands wander to the hem of your pants. His fingers move down to play with your button before undoing it completely. He finds his way to your zipper and carelessly unzips your pants. His hands move back up to the top of your trousers. Much to your dismay, his lips leave yours. You groan at the loss. 

Your unhappiness ends almost instantly as you feel Neil slide your pants down your legs, discarding them to the side. He pushes himself back in between your legs and brings his thumb over the your underwear to your clit, slowly sliding down to explore the rest of you. 

He lands over your folds and smiles. “You’re already wet for me and I’ve barely touched you at all,” Neil says. He takes his hand away from your heat and brings it up towards the hem of your panties. He plays with the elastic band for a second and brings his attention to your eyes, searching for consent. 

You nod your head in anticipation, and he pulls at the hem, bringing them down your legs, and throwing them on the floor. 

Neil grabs the bottom of your shirt next, pulling it up over your head as you lift your arms to give him easier access. He places his hands on your back and starts to mess with the hooks of your bra. With ease, he undoes the clasp, and your bra falls to the side. 

He steps back, looking you up and down. You bring your knees together, rubbing them against one another in search of some sort of friction. Neil shakes his head and spreads your legs again. 

“You haven’t earned that yet,” He breathes. His hands grab your waist and slide up the sides of your body. He stops at your breasts, playing lightly with your nipples. 

You gasp at the feeling, needing more. Neil squeezes them tightly. He smirks, and then moves his hands back down to your hips. 

“What do you want me to do?” Neil asks. His breathing becomes heavier. Despite his attempt to be the dominant one, you can sense his need for you.

You take a deep breath as his hand moves down towards your heat. “I want you to make me come, please,” You plead. 

You gasp as Neil’s thumb brushes over your clit. It’s slow at first, but still enough to make you moan. He picks up the pace a bit, rubbing small, slow circles where you need them most. You throw your head back and moan. Neil smirks, loving how he’s making you feel. 

Neil’s circles get faster, pushing you closer to the edge. You shut your eyes tight, letting the pleasure take over.

Abruptly, Neil’s touch disappears, leaving you feeling cold and empty. You groan in agony, wanting more. “N-Neil don’t st-,” 

You’re cut off by a warm, wet sensation at your folds. You open your eyes to see Neil’s head in between your legs. His tongue rolls over your clit. Suddenly, you feel a finger at your entrance.

“Shit, N-Neil,” You cry out in pleasure as Neil pushes his middle finger inside of you. He sucks roughly on your clit, pushing his finger in and out. 

Neil adds his index finger, and it’s already too much to handle. “Fuck,” You whimper as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to climaxing. 

“You like that?” Neil says, his words vibrating against you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. 

You moan in response, but that’s not enough for Neil. He takes his lips off of you, and takes his fingers out. “I asked you a question, (Y/N).”

You want him to fill you up again, to make you feel whole again. “Y-yes Neil, I like it. You feel amaz-, oh fuck!” You practically scream as Neil shoves his fingers back inside of you, his tongue lapping at your folds. 

“You taste amazing,” Neil says against your clit before sucking on you again. His words alone could take you there. 

“Neil I-,” You try to get your words out, but you can’t form a proper sentence. 

“I love when you say my name like that, darling,” He says, sucking even harder now. 

You can’t hold back anymore. “I’m so close,” You mumble. “I wanna come, please,” You beg. 

“Then come for me, (Y/N), now,” Neil commands. You do as he says. You feel your walls tightening, you feel yourself collapsing around his touch. 

“Holy sh-shit,” You stutter. You come around his fingers as you throw your head back against the wall. 

Neil removes his fingers from you and stands up. 

“I think it’s my turn now,” Neil remarks slyly, undoing his belt. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

You watch closely as he slips his pants down his legs and steps out of them. He brings his hands up to the top of his shirt and unbuttons each button one at a time. He throws his shirt to the side. 

You gulp harshly as he pulls his boxers down, revealing his hardened member. He gets closer to you, pushing your hair out of your face, searching your eyes once more for consent as he lines himself up with your opening. 

You nod.

“F-fuck!” You cry out, feeling the overstimulation wash over every inch of your body as Neil enters you. He grabs your right breast with his hand.

Neil starts out slow. “You feel so good around me,” He says, moving rhythmically in and out of you. 

He then brings one hand up to your chin, and the other to the middle of your back, forcing you to sit up and stare into his eyes. His lips meet yours hungrily, searching for something more. Neil picks up his pace, growing faster and faster. 

“Neil,” You sigh, “I don’t know how long I can last.” You were already close.

“You got to hold on longer, darling. Don’t come yet.” Even when he whispers he’s commanding. 

“O-okay,” You mumble, bitting down on your lip, trying to hold yourself back. It was all becoming too much for you to handle.

“You’re taking me so well, (Y/N),” Neil praises you as he speeds up even more, his hips bumping hard into yours. 

He’s going to send you over the edge. Your walls begin to clench tightly around his cock. 

“Neil, I-,”

He cuts you off. “No, not yet,” He says shakily. “I’m so close. Shit!” 

Neil moans loudly, his lips capturing yours in another passionate kiss. 

“Y-yes,” Neil huffs, pushing in and out of you even quicker now. You know he’s seconds away from finishing, and so are you. “I’m ready now, love. Come with me,” Neil begs. 

You do as he says, your walls clenching harder around his hard dick. Profanities fly out of your mouths as you both reach your climax. After a few, slow pumps, Neil pulls out of you, stroking his cock a few times before reaching down and grabbing his boxers. He slips them on, and looks over at you, still sitting on the table. You’re so sore, so tired. But it’s all so worth it. 

He walks over to you, cupping your right cheek in his hand, and bringing your face close to his. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” Neil says as his lips find yours again. 

You part from him. “I love you too, Neil.” 

Neil grins, looking around the room at the mess you two made, and the mess he made of you. He looks proud. 

And he should be, You think to yourself. Only Neil could make you feel this way. 

You stand up, grabbing your panties and slipping them on. They’re still soaked. You grab your bra put it on as well. You look over at Neil, who’s buttoning up his dress shirt now. 

He’s watching your every move, as if he’s still fucking you in his head. 

“Just looking,” He says, a wide smile makes its way across his face. “I mean, how could I not?” He slides his pants back on, and buckles his belt. 

“So,” He pauses for a second, “Do you think you learned your lesson?” He questions finally, arching an eyebrow in your direction. 

You can’t help but giggle. “If the lesson was that I should ‘misbehave’ more often, then yes, lesson learned.”

Neil grins widely and walks over to you. “I guess I’m a good teacher then.”

He embraces you tightly, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, I guess you are,” You say, grinning back at Neil. 

[djarrex]

Pretty please can we have something where Echo and TBB find out Rex and reader are expecting? Bonus points for Omega's reaction cause I wonder sometimes whether she knows much about the natural way babies are made? I figure she wouldn't have need of that information in the Kaminoans' eyes.

I wanna preface this by expressing the joy I feel and the appreciation I have when you guys come into my inbox asking or wanting to talk about Post-Order 66 Rex and fam. I love it SO MUCH you have no idea :’)

So, if you remember, Hunter was briefly in Insatiable and has a couple lines of dialogue - he even congratulates them on the pregnancy and wishes them well in case he doesn’t see them soon - which is shown during Rex + reader + Hunter’s short interaction. The squad is told the happy news before the events of that particular installment, and I’m thinking that it happens when Rex contacts them to ask if they would be able meet him on [planet] for a little help with [mission].

Find the rest of the series and related works in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

Let’s go back in time when Rex makes contact with TBB, which preludes the events of Insatiable: (pregnant!reader, TBB + Omega finds out, about 1.6k words)

<<<>>>

"We’re being hailed.” 

All members on board the Marauder drop what they’re doing and turn their attention to Echo, who had just called out and is signaling for everyone to congregate in the cockpit. Hunter sheathes the knife he’d been twirling in his fingers and nods before stepping towards the rear of the ship and calling for Omega, while Wrecker sets down Gonky and waves her over. Tech and Echo are already sat in the cockpit, getting the signal steady for the incoming transmission to come through.

"What is it?" Omega jumps down from the gunner's nest - now her room thanks to Wrecker's kind heart and creativity - and joins her brothers in the cockpit. The pilot seats are swiveled around and facing the small space in the center of all of them - the bust of a familiar captain popping into view. "Oh, it's Rex! Hi Rex!" She waves at his translucent blue form with a giddy smile plastered on her face. “Where is-”

"Hello Omega," you chime in with a smile as your head pops into the perimeter of the holo. Her sweet face lights up even more, and her eyes move back and forth between you both, unsure of whom to focus on. From the room you’re still staying at in a high-rise located in Yerbana City, the two of you exchange quick greetings with the five who are currently traveling through hyperspace.

“What’s goin’ on, Rex?” The gentle giant asks with a grin and hands placed on his hips. The captain straightens his stance and crosses his armored arms across his chest plate, and instead of directing his impending response to Wrecker, Rex’s attention turns to Hunter, who’s leaned against the frame at the threshold of the cockpit. A moment passes as the two share a nonverbal understanding before Rex opens his mouth - the focusing pairs of eyes on one another.

“I wanted to see if your squad would be available to help me out.” You quietly observe each individual who are all appearing on your end as full-body projections, landing on Omega to where she’s sitting on top of their Gonk droid - her hands folded neatly in her lap, legs swinging.

“Name it.” Echo is quick to respond with a affirmative nod as he meets the eyes of each member - cutting off Hunter before the sergeant can get a word in. Rex’s oldest friend found himself caught at the receiving end of a very slight glare coming from directly across from him, and begins to backtrack. “I-”

“What is it, Captain?” Hunter interjects.

You sort of tune out the rest, having already been given the spiel by Rex long before you’d suggested for him to contact Hunter for some much-needed assistance. It’s a simple mission: scouting out an abandoned base in hopes to obtain supposedly valuable information from the obsolete Republic database and perhaps to also restock on munitions if there’s anything left there. Normally this would be something Rex could manage on his own, though his thoughts have been a little busy since the start of your extended stay in Yerbana. The two of you ended up taking a little much-needed ‘vacation’ in the repopulating capitol city after receiving the incredible news, and you’re just now getting back into the swing of things. Well, for the most part. Rex doesn’t quite trust his focus as of late with far too many other important things swarming around in his mind, and is worried that he'd make a mistake doing the mission solo, no matter how simple the objective appears to be.

Hunter accepts without resistance, and confirms that they'll meet the two of you just outside the abandoned base immediately after they’ve finished their current objective for Cid, which will probably be in another eighteen hours or so. Rex transmits the coordinates, and it falls silent; the awkward clearing of the throat coming from Rex crackles through the air on their end.

“Somethin’ else, Rex?”

“Actually, yeah. We have some news.” Rex grins and rubs at his nape, and you can't help but to smile wide at him from your position at his side. The squad members all share a glance - a mixture of raised, inquisitive brows and narrowed, concerned eyes. Hunter steps closer to the projection, caution engrained within the features of his half-inked face as he crosses his arms.

“Tell them, love,” your sweet voice of reassurance crackles with the brief wavering signal - your hand laying to rest on his pauldron. Rex chuckles down at his feet and grabs your hand to bring it up to his chest, squeezing gently as he begins to acknowledge the others.

“Everything okay, you two?”

“Based on their lifted expressions and display of affection towards one another, it appears that this ‘news’ is of a positive, exuberant nature.”

You can’t help but laugh at Tech being Tech, which results in mixed reactions at the other end of the call. Rex inhales deep - the air quietly seeping through his nostrils on the exhale. “We’re, uh- we’re gonna have a baby.” His lit up eyes drop to his boots and he’s smirking at his feet as soon as the words leave his lips. You watch as the multiple pair of eyes widen with smiles creeping their way onto each member of the squad’s faces, but the first person to audibly respond is Tech - his focus not lifting from the device held in his hands.

“Are you certain?�� All heads snap in Tech’s direction to where he’s leaned forward in the pilot’s seat, elbows resting on his thighs, continuing to tap away at the datapad. Smacking his bother’s knee, Echo squints at Tech and shakes his head.

“Yes, Tech,” you giggle as your hand releases from Rex’s and moves to rest against the beginnings of your baby bump, though you’re unsure if they are able to see either one of you from the chest down. “The bun has been confirmed as baking in the oven. We risked a brief visit to the local med center here, so, we’re certain.”

“Well then.” Tech’s brows lift above the rim of his goggles as he readjusts the spectacles with a finger pushing between them. “Felicitations to you both. That is quite extraordinary news. It seems that I was correct in-”

“That’s so wonderful!” Omega exclaims with the largest grin - hopping off the GNK and clapping her hands excitedly as she approaches you. “When are you getting the baby? Are we going to see the baby when we meet them at the rendezvous, Hunter?”

“Of course you're going to see the baby, Omega,” you answer softly for Hunter, giving him a quick smile and nod, saving him from having to explain. “It won’t be for quite a few months, though. Not until after the baby is born.” Omega’s brows pinch together in confusion, and you cautiously elaborate, unsure of what she already knows as far as what the natural-born process entails. “The baby has to grow inside of me first, and that takes a little while.”

"Inside of you?" Her curiosity is absolutely adorable. She turns to her brothers - soft eyes flickering to each one of them.

"You see, Omega, when-"

"Uh, Tech?" Rex clears his throat, and the intelligent trooper is quick to get the hint - closing his mouth and resuming to silently tap at the datapad. Echo is next to chime in, and he’s smiling like a fool, eyes wide.

“You’re gonna be a dad, eh? Wow... that’s- that’s just incredible, brother.”

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” Wrecker very loudly exclaims, and Omega and you share giggles at his enthusiasm.

“Technically, Wrecker, we are all going to be ‘uncles’ since Rex is our brother, genetically speaking. Therefore, any offspring he may produce would be considered as our nieces and nephews. That is how the nat-borns conduct their family trees.” Tech punctuates his statement with a sure nod - speaking with his finger raised in the air so as to draw attention to his point.

You’re so lost in the way Rex’s eyes continue to positively sparkle with pride and adoration as his brothers and Omega shower the two of you with congratulatory praises that you’re forgetting to respond to all of them.

“We appreciate it, everyone,” you say with an ear-to-ear grin - beaming at Rex. 

“We’ll see you all soon,” Rex concludes, “Stay safe out there.” 

The holo vanishes as the transmission disconnects, leaving the squad on board the Marauder to go over some more details of their next objective as well as to process the news.

“So...” Wrecker turns around and leads Gonky back to where he was benching the power droid before the call. “What do ya think Rex is gonna do?”

Hunter raises the brow bordered with dark ink. “What do you mean?”

“Are they going to keep this up, now that they’re going to have a kid? You know, the missions and stuff?”

“We have Omega,” Tech inputs matter-of-factly as he prepares the ship for exit from hyperspace. “And we are managing just fine, barring our dwindling ration supply.” Omega smiles sheepishly, but nods with confidence.

“Rex is a good man.” Echo swivels his seat around and sits up straight, meeting the four pair of eyes now gazing back at him. “Always tried to do what was best for his men, his brothers, and still does, even if it's beyond his control or out of his hands. Now that Rex is... free,” Echo puts the most stress into that word as it’s spoken - glancing down at his feet and chewing the inside of his cheek before continuing, “He’s in control of his life, and is able to choose his own path. And that path will lead to what’s best for his family.”

<<<>>> 

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[dabifixation]

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

~

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.