#they are gonna gather data on us anyway. make it count

[ovaruling]

on the subject of individual actions, they do matter, which is why men flip out when the measured birth rate stagnates/doesn’t increase or drops. they worry and they get upset and they cry and they scream and they publish articles about how men are in a crisis and it’s all our fault because we are making selfish individual choices that don’t benefit their collective. it adds up. you may not think your individual impact is much, but men as a group, especially men in high places, usually pay a whole lot more attention to the individual choices of women than you might think. and they react. that’s all i’m saying

[sansaorgana]

— THE HERO AND THE TRAITOR

PAIRING — Poe Dameron x fem!First Order!Reader

SUMMARY — Your whole life you wanted to avenge your father’s death. General Hux gives you a chance to destroy the Resistance. However, when you infiltrate their organisation undercover, you actually find much more than just useful data – love.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I have a thing for Readers working for the Empire/First Order, don’t I...? 😂 Anyway, this one’s gonna change her mind because of one handsome pilot. 😉 I didn’t put trigger warnings but if you find discussions of death to be too heavy for you, then proceed with caution. 🥺

WORD COUNT — 3,290

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE HERO AND THE TRAITOR

For your father, serving the Empire had been the only way to get out of poverty on his home-planet. He had signed up to escape and he had served with his own life when the Rebels destroyed one of the ships he had been working at.

For you, serving the First Order was nothing but an act of revenge.

You didn’t quite agree with everything they were doing and you could see that the whole organization was barely basking in the fallen Empire’s glory but being nowhere close to achieving the greatness of it.

Young and ambitious, your goal was to destroy the Resistance in the act of revenge. You had known very well, though, that becoming a pilot or a trooper would only give you an illusion of actually doing something.

So you had become an agent and after a few successful missions, General Hux assigned you to infiltrate the Resistance and gather useful information.

Previous three months you had spent at the Resistance base, pretending to be the First Order’s traitor. It was almost amusing how they trusted you; still trying to believe in the goodness of people. Still having so much hope.

You were in the meeting with General Organa and all the officers and greatest pilots, listening to the details of the newest operation. Your eyes wandered to find the older faces – it could had been one of them shooting the ship with your father down back in the day.

“Now, while we’re going to evacuate from this planet, we need a distraction. We need the First Order’s fleet to be as far away from here as possible,” General Organa explained and then looked at you with a kind smile. “(Y/N) will take care of that, am I right?”

“Yes, general,” you nodded.

“Wait, what?!” someone raised his voice and everyone looked at him.

It was Poe Dameron. The Resistance’s best pilot and a poster boy. It had taken him the longest time to finally trust you but you two had grown close without a doubt over the previous few weeks.

It was just something about him that was making you feel warmth in all the places you had been feeling empty your whole life. The constant greed for revenge had been often leaving you cold and distanced but Poe showed you the other way. The way he would smile at you or wink his eye, the way he’d tease you and joke around. And the way all the people around looked up to him and admired him for his abilities. It was something you had never known.

Your life was full of grief and regret, revenge and danger. In the First Order, no one was safe. Your own colleagues wanted to take your place. In the Resistance it was different. You could actually count on your friends.

First of all, you had them – people you could call friends.

You had told Poe Dameron only one lie. You had told him the truth about your father and your life’s mission to avenge his death. You had told him the truth about your childhood and everything else. Your lie was that you had changed your mind about the First Order after seeing with your own eyes their cruelty.

You had told him that you started to believe in the idea of the Resistance and that was the only lie.

Meanwhile, in fact, if there was anyone being able to make you truly believe in the ideas of the Resistance… It would have to be him. But you were trying to shake those feelings off.

“That’s a suicide mission, you can’t send her there!” he protested while giving General Organa a threatening look.

“(Y/N) is the best qualified to do this job. They expect her to be back from her spying mission and she will provide them with the information that will make them move their fleet out of this system. We need to evacuate and they’re too close. It’s too risky,” General Organa answered in a firm tone.

“This is my duty,” you swallowed thickly.

“They’ll kill you after they find out!” Poe’s eyes widened. He looked genuinely scared.

“And that will be my redemption,” you laid your eyes back on the General. “I’m honored to do it.”

“Great. (Y/N) will leave first this evening and we will start evacuating at night when the First Order’s fleet will already leave the system. The meeting’s over.”

Everyone walked away while chatting with each other. You could feel Poe’s gaze on you so you hurried to your room to pack your things and avoid him.

You didn’t want to confront him because every time you thought about it, you could feel your whole chest burning. What was this odd sensation, making you feel like the possibility of him ending up dead or not seeing him again would kill you, too? It made absolutely zero sense.

You packed your things and checked twice if you had taken everything with yourself before going to your ship. Most people treated you like air at this point; already accepted you as a part of their team so they weren’t staring at you. They were also busy with packing their things and preparing the evacuation process, therefore they weren’t stopping you for a little chat.

There was this one person, though. This one person waiting for you by your ship.

You sighed at the sight of him.

Poe Dameron, of course.

“You won’t stop me,” you smiled at him softly and put your bag down.

“I would hate to be in your way… I know you have to,” his voice trembled as he extended his hand towards you. His fist was clenched and your heart almost broke at the sight of him like that. “I want you to have it,” he encouraged you to walk up to him and so you did.

You reached out for his hand to hold it gently and that was when he released something small from his fist. You looked down and saw a ring on a chain.

His late mother’s wedding ring.

Your heart skipped a beat at that. You couldn’t take it. You were a spy, you were the First Order’s agent – spineless, without any sense of morals nor loyalty.

But you had enough heart in you to know that it was wrong to take it.

“I can’t accept such a gift, Poe,” you whispered, surprised to find your own voice trembling as well.

“Please…” he pleaded as his warm, brown eyes filled with tears.

“I will probably die there,” you said and laughed nervously.

It was easy to pretend to be tough when you knew you wouldn’t be harmed at all. You wondered if you’d act the same if you truly were to die. Probably not.

“I will probably die and therefore you won’t ever see this ring again,” you explained. “I can’t take it from you. One day, you will give it to a woman who–”

“I will die, too, come on, let’s be real. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then in a month or two. Pilots like me, they die heroes. I will sacrifice myself for the cause one day doing a suicide misison just the way you are now,” he blurted out, trying to fight his own tears. “If you think I’m going to survive and settle down with someone one day, then you’re wrong. I’m giving this ring to you. If you… If you don’t come back to me… At least I’ll know it’s with you… Forever with you. The girl who reminded me about everything I’ve ever fought for,” he continued as you stood there, stunned. “For some time now I felt like this fight was pointless but then you came here, making me believe once again that people are good and they will join us like you did… And that I have to fight for those good people.”

You had never felt so bad in your whole life. Like the lowest scum.

You just wanted him to shut up because with each word, your heart had been breaking more and more.

So you closed the distance between you two and you pressed your lips to his. In the same moment you let yourself go and your tears flew out of your eyes to mix with his own, streaming down your cheeks. It wasn’t a passionate big kiss – no, not at all. It was slow and gentle.

It was delicate.

Delicacy was something you had never known. You had to be tough your whole life.

“Goodbye, Dameron,” you whispered and tried to hand him the ring back once again but he took a step back, not allowing you to do so.

“Goodbye, (Y/L/N),” he said quietly before turning around and leaving you alone in the hangar.

“Excellent work, (Y/L/N). You might have just earned a promotion,” General Hux’s smirk was making you feel like punching him in the face.

You handed him all the data you got at the Resistance base and felt your heart grow heavier and heavier with each second.

“Might?” you questioned him and his smirk disappeared. “In three months I’ve collected information you couldn’t gather for years, General.”

“And because of that only I will pretend I haven’t heard what I’ve just heard leaving your insolent mouth,” he clenched his fists.

“May I have your permission to leave the ship? I’d like to take a few days off after the mission, General,” you changed the subject.

“After the show. I’m sure you want to watch since it’s all thanks to you,” Hux nodded.

“The show?”

“We’ll pretend that we are flying away but tonight, when they’ll start their evacuation, we’ll come back here and shoot them all down,” General Hux explained to you. “In fact, I believe that Kylo Ren wants to use the Starkiller Base to wipe the Resistance off of the Earth tonight. Since you gathered all the information that could be useful for us, there’s no need to keep them alive in any way. It’s surely a sight you wouldn’t want to miss, (Y/L/N). And after that, we all deserve a few days off. You’re dismissed now. You can go to your quarters,” he waved at you and you nodded with your jaw clenched before walking away.

Poe’s necklace with his mother’s ring felt way too heavy on your chest.

When you locked yourself in your quarters, you pressed your face to the pillow and started to sob uncontrollably. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you had been crying.

Because of your father’s death, you had never truly known a real family. The fact that they had taken him away from you even before your birth was making it more painful. Your father had always been something untouchable for you. There was not a single memory you had with him and nothing in this world would be enough to assure you that he’d love you and be proud of you. Because how could he when he hadn’t even held you…?

It was a mirage.

But all the friends you had made in the Resistance base… the love you found – no matter how afraid you were of that word – it was all real.

You knew Poe would never forgive you but it didn’t matter. You just wanted him to have his mother’s ring back so he could give it to someone else one day. You wanted him to live.

And if he was about to die, you wanted to die with him.

Because he was the only thing that made you feel alive and if there was anyone being able to make you truly believe in the ideas of the Resistance… It would have to be him.

“I’m sorry, your permission to access the hangar has expired,” the stormtrooper's voice made you roll your eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” you asked.

“I’m afraid it does not matter. General Hux hasn’t given you his permission to leave the ship. In fact, no one’s allowed to leave before the arrival of the Starkiller Base,” he informed you.

“This is ridiculous. I am not a prisoner of this ship, I work here. I am the best agent they have and I can’t even leave when I want to?!” you shouted at him and he took a step back.

That was when you had realized he had to be new and scared. No other trooper would just back off so easily.

“Listen here, kid, no one’s gonna know. I’ll be back soon,” you lied to him. “You know that I’m more important here than you. If you don’t let me pass, I can just make up a story about you that will make you fired,” you threatened.

“R-right… You’re free to go… But please, be back soon. If you’re not, I’ll be in trouble…” he stuttered and you passed him by like he was nothing.

The person you had been before arriving at the Resistance base… She’d just continue walking. But you suddenly couldn’t.

He was just a scared kid. Someone’s beloved son. And he could be killed because of you.

“We both know I won’t be back,” you turned around to look at him. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To the Resistance base,” you lowered your voice.

“It’s going to be destroyed in an hour. I’d rather stay here and get scolded for letting you go,” he straightened himself.

You smirked. He would probably snitch on you in a moment but it didn’t matter. He’d save his arse and Hux would only smirk and let you go. Why would he hunt you if you were about to die soon anyway with the rest of the Resistance?

Hux didn’t know everything, though.

You ran up to your ship and started all the engines to fly away as fast as possible, before all the radars would catch you and inform the General about the unusual activity in the hangar.

When you were landing, you could see other ships leaving in a hurry. Because they were already on their way and there was a battle slowly forming in the air, you assumed they had already known about your betrayal and they were trying to evacuate before the Starkiller Base would arrive.

No one even stopped you when you were landing your ship. You jumped out of it and ran, trying to find Poe. Hoping he wasn’t up in the air yet.

“Traitor!’ you heard from a few people but they were more focused on saving their lives and running to the ships.

You were standing in the middle of it all. The whole hangar filled with people trying to escape. They were children, too. Crying and scared, being calmed down by their parents. Hopeless themselves, they were trying to give their children some fake sense of security to live on.

You felt like someone had just put a knife inside your heart and then twisted it around. But there was no one else to blame. It was you. Yours was the hand holding the knife.

Then you saw him. He was walking alongside General Organa. They both had very serious faces as they were hurrying to the hangar. He was already in his pilot’s uniform but he froze at the sight of you.

You had never seen his gaze being so cold just like General Organa had never seemed to be so scary.

Despite that, you walked up to them.

Earlier that day you had suspected you wouldn’t be so calm if you were truly to die but now you knew that it hadn’t been true. There was some sort of peace in knowing you’d be dead soon.

“What are you doing back here?” Poe clenched his jaw and tried to sound stern but his voice trembled.

“We have our informants, too,” General Organa looked you up and down. “I don’t care why you came back but don’t take our time. We are in a hurry.”

And they walked past you. Just like that.

You took off the necklace and ran after Poe.

“I wanted to give it back!” you stopped him on his way to his X-Wing. He turned around and furrowed his brow. “I don’t deserve it. I want you to have it back,” you put it back into his hand. “And I want you to know I didn’t lie to you about anything except for the fact who I had been working for. But nothing else was a lie, nothing. And we will both probably die tonight but I love you,” you took a deep breath in and Poe opened his mouth slightly. “I fucking love you, I love you, I was so scared of admitting it but what does it matter now? I love you and if we were given a bit more of the time together, I’m sure you’d even make me believe in the ideas of the Resistance. Because that’s why you’re their poster boy. Not because you’re the best pilot but because you can convince people to join your cause by just being yourself… And I want you to know that if we all die tonight, it won’t be for nothing because good people will always be out there, fighting for better tomorrow. And all the data I handed over to General Hux was fake,” you confessed.

Poe’s eyes widened at that. It seemed like everyone around you was in a hurry, giving you curious and angry looks. But you two were standing still and so was the time for you both.

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” Poe walked up to you and bit on his lower lip. “We’ll talk later, okay? I’m needed up there, gonna destroy that Starkiller Base or whatever that is, you hear me? And when I’m back, we’re gonna talk about it. Deal?” he asked and his eyes sparkled with confidence that he’s actually going to achieve that. It was easy to believe him.

“Just blow it to pieces, Dameron,” you cracked a smile and he put his hands on your arms before pressing his forehead to yours.

“I will. Meanwhile, you follow the rest, okay? We’ll meet at the new base.”

“O-okay…”, you sniffled.

“Don’t cry, my girl, we really have a plan and we know how to destroy it. All we need is a little hope. Can you give me that?” he looked deep into your eyes, searching for an answer. You nodded. “Good,” he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs to wipe your tears off. “Here, have it,” he put the necklace around your neck again. “Take care of it.”

“No, Poe, I really shouldn’t, I–”

“I love you, too, silly, can’t you see?” he smirked. “Goodness, I think I’d love you even if you still were their spy. I’d hunt you down throughout the whole galaxy to see you again. I’d join the fucking First Order to be with you, you get me?”

“Oh, that would be a waste of such a good pilot,” you chuckled and fixed his jacket. “I’m glad you don’t have to do it because I’m here now.”

“I’m glad, too,” he leaned in to peck your lips and ran to his X-Wing where BB-8 had been already waiting for him.

You waved at him and turned around to go back to your ship. However, you spotted General Organa standing nearby and staring at you. She had to overhear the whole conversation.

“Come, child,” she said eventually after a while of an awkward silence. “Your Poe’s gonna destroy that monstrosity but it’s still better to be off of the planet when that thing arrives,” she extended her hand towards you to lead you to her ship.

“Yes, General.”

MASTERLIST

[dindjarinbae]

Commander Brown Eyes (Din Djarin x reader)

hi i know this wasn’t requested, but it was something i had been writing since like friday or satuday so... i have like 12 requests to get to, and i am hoping to get those all done within the next two weeks, so bear with me please!! anyways, soft din, that’s it. send tweet.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 3979

“Y/n. I want you to come, too. You won’t show up on anything at all. You have no record.” Your boyfriend, Din Djarin, pointed out while you, Fennec, Cara, Mayfeld, Boba Fett, and Din, all stood trying to figure out who was going to accompany Mayfeld into the mining facility. 

You blinked and looked up at Din, shaking your head a few times, “I- I couldn’t possibly go, what on earth do you need me for?” You asked, getting a bit nervous. He usually adamantly refused to let you go on missions or anything of the sort in fear that you might get hurt, so why now? You looked at him quizzically and begged for an answer with your eyes. 

You got an answer, just not from Din.

“Because you’re pretty. There ain’t a single general in there that would even think to find us suspicious because they’ll be looking at you.” Mayfeld interjected and looked at Din, “That’s the idea, right Mando?” He asked and raised his eyebrows. 

Din shuffled his feet around for a second and then nodded, “I had a better way of saying it, but that works, too.” He mumbled and you could just sense that his eyes were on you. You blinked a few times and then looked at Cara and Fennec to see if they were going to protest but Fennec was nodding and Cara seemed to think this was a good idea.

“But I’m going with you two, as well. I don’t like her going in alone with you.” He spoke firmly towards Mayfeld, and Mayfeld started ranting about how that wasn’t smart because the beskar armor would be too suspicious. 

You tuned them out while they bickered amongst themselves and you turned to Boba, who you decided that you liked very much and you frowned a bit. You saw his shoulders shake in a small chuckle and he shook his head, “Don’t look at me like that, this wasn’t my idea.” He stated and folded his arms across his chest. You huffed and then dramatically sighed, getting reluctantly dragged into the mission. 

——

By the time the three of you had arrived into the base after a relentless attack from pirates, the entire base had gathered there to cheer you on. Din climbed out of the cab and held his arms out for you, and you climbed into his outstretched arms and he gently lifted you down, holding you underneath your armpits like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. He held you for just a bit longer than normal, and you assumed he was just nervous to have you in the base with him and Mayfeld. Carefully, he set you on your feet and you looked up at him, chuckling quietly, not getting used at all to the stormtrooper outfit he had to throw on. 

“Don’t you dare say anything about it.” He mumbled and gave your ass a well concealed, playful smack. 

You giggled and grinned up at him cheekily, “I didn’t say anything! I just thought it!” You protested, and he would’ve grabbed you and whacked you on the ass again, but Mayfeld came around the front of the vehicle and he cleared his throat at the two of you. 

The playful side of Din melted away instantly and he walked up to join Mayfeld, and you trailed behind the two of them, nodding kindly at the stormtroopers that waved at you as you passed through the crowd. You looked around the crowded base and desperately wanted to grab onto Din’s arm, but all the eyes in the room suggested that you not do that. You stayed back behind them and tried to make yourself as small as possible as the two of them rendezvoused in front of the mess hall and you moved up closer to them until you you’re beside Din, your hip brushing his thigh. He glanced down at you, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you in a protective grip. 

Mayfeld wandered off casually a few steps to check for a terminal, and he came back seconds later to report.

“There it is.” He spoke lowly, and Din gave him a small nod. 

“Good luck.” He said gruffly and you moved backwards behind him just a bit. But he caught your arm gently and pulled you out, “You need to go with him.” He stated and pushed you towards Mayfeld very carefully. 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, meeting Mayfeld’s eyes. He nodded towards the terminal and you looked over your shoulder at Din who nodded at you once, telling you to go. You scuttled off behind Mayfeld and followed him closely until he stopped in the threshold of the mess hall. His stance changed and he visibly tensed before turning around and walking right back the way he came, catching your arm in the process, pulling you back to Din. 

When the two of you reached Din again, you wiggled your arm away from Mayfeld and you grabbed onto Din’s arm, not caring who saw at this point. Your heart was racing and you had a bad, bad feeling about this all. 

“I can’t go in there.” Mayfeld stated, a tremor in his voice. 

“Why not?” Din asked sharply, and you tightened your grip on his arm. He allowed you to cling to his arm and he kept his gaze fixed entirely on Mayfeld. 

“That’s Valin Hess.” Mayfeld answered and you scooter a bit closer to Din. 

He yanked his arm from your grip and you almost protested, but in an act of (maybe thirty minutes worth) touch deprivation, he wrapped the same arm around your waist and he pulled you against his side, the cool metal of the stormtrooper armor pressing coldly against you. 

“Who?” He asked, and tightened his arm around you. 

“Valin Hess. I used to serve under him.” Mayfeld practically wheezed, and you could hear the panic in his voice. You felt bad for Mayfeld, with his face turning a ghostly white and the anxiety in his tone. You reached out to rub his shoulder once reassuringly and then sunk back into Mando, looking down at your feet. 

“Will he recognize you?” Din asked, moving closer to Mayfeld. 

“I don’t know. I was just a field operative, but I’m not taking the chance. It’s over.” Mayfeld whispered and you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. 

“No no no, you have t-“ you protested, but Din promptly cut you off. 

Mayfeld moved to leave, but Din grabbed his arm, “Let’s just do this quick and we can get out of here.” He said sternly and you frowned, looking up at Mayfeld with a panicked expression. He couldn’t back out. He couldn’t. If he did, you would never see your little green baby ever again, and that brought hot, stinging tears to your eyes. 

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort. I’m sorry.” Mayfeld snapped and he tried to walk away again. 

As he did last time, Din caught his arm and tugged him back, “No, I cant. If we don’t get those coordinates, then me and her,” he said, and motioned towards you with the chin of the helmet he wore, “... will lose the kid forever. Give me the data stick.” Din said and Mayfeld looked a bit perplexed. 

“It’s not gonna work.” He protested and fell silent for a second. 

You looked up at Din and then back at Mayfeld and you could see the frown etching itself onto Mayfeld’s face, “In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face. And unless you’re gonna send her in there-'' he said and motioned towards you. 

Din shook his head and held you tighter, and Mayfeld simply nodded, “I figured. Let’s go.” He snapped. 

“Give it to me.” Din said again, sharper this time. Mayfeld held it out and Din snatched it from his hand and he tugged you forward a bit before letting his arm fall from your waist. He nodded for you to follow him and you shook your head, feeling nothing but terror as you looked at Valin Hess inside the mess hall. Din sighed as he watched you stand next to Mayfeld and he tipped his head to the side a bit, and something told you he was pleading to you with his eyes. 

You reluctantly nodded and followed in behind him, standing casually a couple tables away while he parked himself in front of the terminal. You felt Valin’s dark stare on yourself and then watched it move to Din and it stayed there while he attempted to use the terminal. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the terminal chirped out that there was a problem and there was an incomplete facial scan. 

Everything then moved in slow motion as you watched Din grab the helmet he wore, and he lifted it over his head, revealing the hair that you’d felt before, but had never seen. A gasp got stuck in your throat. Of course it would be brown. Of course Din Djarin would have the prettiest brown curls that you’d ever laid your eyes on, and you wanted nothing more in that moment then to go to him and run your fingers through the soft, pretty curls that fell to the nape of his neck. 

The computer quit its’ bitching and you watched him put the data stick in the terminal. You wanted desperately for him to turn around, and you could tell by his body language that he was absolutely terrified. He had worn that helmet his entire life to hide his face from the world, and now his face was out in the open for everyone, including his girlfriend to see. You couldn’t imagine what that felt like. 

“Trooper!” 

A deep voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked over at it’s source. Valin Hess. 

He rose from his seat and walked towards Din, and you felt bile rise in your throat as you moved just a step forward to be closer to him. 

“Hey, trooper.” Valin snapped once again, and Din quickly pulled the data stick from the terminal before he turned towards Hess.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you.” Valin drawled and you went another step closer, biting your lip as he spoke again, “What’s your designation?” He asked, and his voice gave you shivers as you watched Din’s body language show exactly what you’d expected: terror. 

“Transport crew.” He nearly whispered, and your heart broke as you heard his voice crack on the last syllable. 

There was only a second of silence before Hess spoke again, “What?” He asked, turning his body ever so slightly. 

“My designation is transport copilot.” Din answered again, and you prayed that this was the answer Valin Hess was looking for.

From where you stood, you could see only a side profile of your Mandalorian. A strong nose, high cheekbones, a bit of a mustache, and a light coating of facial hair. Nothing you didn’t already know he had, because you’d felt it many times without the lights on or with your eyes covered, but this was the first time you had a real picture to put with the features your gentle fingertips would trace whenever he let you do so. 

“No son,” Valin said, a bit annoyed now, “What’s your TK number?” He asked and you turned your head towards Mayfeld. 

You caught his eye and sent him a pleading look, begging for him to come in and help out. Your lip wobbled and Mayfeld sighed before moving in towards you. 

“My TK number is...” Din began, but before he could continue, Mayfeld had already grabbed your arm and walked the both of you over towards Valin and Din.

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK five nine three, sir.” Mayfeld interjected and dropped your arm, leaving you to subtly scoot yourself towards Din. 

That is exactly what you did. You scurried to his side and it took all of your will not to latch onto his arm as you so often did when you wanted to be close to him. 

“I’m imperial combat assault transport, Lieutenant TK one-eleven, sir.” Mayfeld finished and you glanced up at Din. 

He stole a glance down at you as well, and you felt your eyes water just a bit. He was truly the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, with his full bottom lip and the sharp curve of his jawline with the thin stubble that grew over his skin, but what really made your heart melt, was his eyes. His big, pretty, entrancing brown eyes, framed with his full eyebrows and a set of short, dark lashes. You wanted so badly to touch his face, and you could see the nervousness in his expression as he stared at you. 

“And this is his... human hearing aid of sorts,” he said and pointed towards you, “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” Mayfeld explained.

Valin gave a slight nod before leaning in towards Din, and you put a gentle, reassuring hand on Din’s shoulder, “What’s your name officer?” Valin asked loudly, and borderline condescendingly. 

Din was silent and looked around and Hess raised his eyebrows as if to reiterate his question before Mayfeld stepped in again.

“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Mayfeld asked, and Din gave a nod. 

“And her?” Valin asked again, pointing at you, his eyes traveling up and down your body, and you felt like hiding behind Din. 

You had to think quickly, so you thought quickly of your favorite flower and you looked up at Valin with a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “I just go by Lavender, sir. Apparently a head injury left me without a memory of my name.” You said, laughing casually. 

 Valin tore his gaze away from you after a skeevy smirk in your direction and Mayfeld spoke up again, “Come on, you two. Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils.” Mayfeld said and put a hand on Din’s back while Din put a hand on yours and the three of you began to walk away. 

“You’re not dismissed.” Hess drawled and the three of you froze. You looked up at Din fearfully and he glanced down at you with the same amount of fear in his eyes, but for different reasons. You were afraid of the Imperial General speaking to you, and he was afraid of the world that could now see him without a helmet. 

When the two men turned around, Din smoothly swept you behind his back protectively and you couldn’t help but stare up at his hair again. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?” Valin asked and you took a step closer to Din, even if it was just his back. 

Both of the boys answered with a simple ‘yes, sir’ and you bit down on your lip, hanging your head as you stood behind Din. Valin Hess turned around to look at the two of them and spoke, “Well you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” he then glanced at you, “Why’s she hiding?” He asked and bent his head to the side to peer around Din’s shoulder, “Why are you hiding, little girl?”

“She’s not big on people, Sir.” Mayfeld interjected and Valin chuckled. 

He clapped both Mayfeld and Din on the shoulder, “Come with me, hm? Let’s get a drink, Brown Eyes.” He said patronizingly and you finally gave into the need to clutch Din’s arm. He looked down at you, along with Mayfeld and Mayfeld sent a look to Din, saying something like ‘bad idea to bring her’, and Din just nodded knowingly. 

The three of you all went to a table and you took the seat closest to Din, clandestinely placing your hand against his thigh, and he laid his down on top of yours reassuringly. You glanced up at him and bit your lip, and he gave you a very small nod. Valin was out of the room getting a bottle of whatever he decided on, and you took this time to lean your forehead against the side of Din’s face. 

“I love you, you know. I’m very, very proud of you.” You whispered and turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers with his. He nodded and laid his forehead against yours for a second while you looked into his deep, brown eyes. You smiled softly and pecked his lips a few times, “You do have beautiful eyes you know, Din Djarin.” You whispered so quietly that you were practically mouthing it. 

He rolled his eyes and you could feel his hand trembling in yours, “I find yours much prettier.” He whispered back and you bumped your nose against his before pulling away so that you two weren’t touching when Hess came back. 

He finally did come back and sat down at the table, setting down three glasses and he nodded at you, “Figured she was a little young for a drink.” He chuckled and reached out to tap your chin a few times. You felt Din’s hand tighten around yours in anger, reacting to the way Valin had just touched you. He opened the bottle up and grinned a bit, “What shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on about “to health” or “to success” but,” he seemed to be amused by himself as he paused dramatically to pour a drink for Din and Mayfeld, “.. I’d like to do something a little less rote.” He finished and closed the bottle, pointing at Din with it, “Where you from, Brown Eyes?” He asked and you felt Din stiffen. 

He opened his mouth to speak when Mayfeld, once again, interjected, saving the day, “How about a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld asked and you leaned your head down a bit. 

You closed your eyes and held onto Din’s hand tightly while Mayfeld went on to speak back and forth to Valin, but at this point, their voices were muffled and far away as you tried to calm down and think of a way out of this situation. You tapped the side of your Mandalorian’s hand and he tapped yours in return, the both of you growing tenser and tenser while Mayfeld’s tone grew more intense and Valin got more defensive. You sucked in a staggering breath and Din squeezed your hand tightly to remind you not to make any noise. You scooted closer to him and he placed your intertwined hands on your thigh. 

“...but what they really want.. is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.” Valin spoke and picked up his glass. You watched Mayfeld’s hand twitch towards his blaster and you squeezed Din’s in a warning. Valin raised his glass and smiled wickedly, “To the Empire.” He toasted and you squeezed your eyes shut. 

Mayfeld whipped out his blaster and shot Valin dead, and you let out a yelp, practically throwing yourself onto Din’s lap. The two men looked at each other and then at a trooper behind them before Mayfeld also shot them as well. He shot the other remaining officers in the room and Din sprang to his feet. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up as well, yanking you back so that you were behind him as he shot at an officer. 

Mayfeld grabbed the helmet Din once wore and passed it to him, “You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He said and Din gratefully took the helmet before turning to you. You looked up at him with soft eyes and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before you pulled away, trying to memorize his face before he turned away and slipped the helmet back on.  

You felt your heart sink as you realized that was probably the only time he’d have the helmet off in front of you, and then the shooting began. You were backed up against the wall by Din and he nodded at Mayfeld who jumped up onto a window ledge and yanked you up with him. You watched while Din jumped up as well and Mayfeld kicked out a panel on the window before he slipped underneath it. 

“Take her!” Din yelled at Mayfeld, and Mayfeld reached in and grabbed you, and you shrieked when you saw the drop below. You looked at him for a moment and he nodded before Din made his way out onto the ledge and Din pointed at a ladder. 

“Y/n. Go. Climb that now and Boba will come and get you when you’re on top. Now!” Din commanded and while he and Mayfeld shot troopers, you ran along the ledge to the ladder. You climbed it to the top of the building and watched Boba circle down in his ship to get you. The door opened and you climbed inside, running up the ramp and into the ship. You climbed your way up into the cockpit as he moved the ship to avoid getting shot at and the two of you made eye contact. 

Boba smiled at you and he pointed up at your face, “Your cheeks are flushed like you’ve just been kissed for the first time.” He teased and you blushed, “Yeah, there was a first in there. But it wasn’t me getting kissed.” You mumbled and gave Boba a look. He analyzed your face for a second and then he nodded. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t say anything, and if he didn’t, he didn’t ask. 

Boba circled the ship back to the rooftop and he hovered with the door open just a few feet away from the edge of the roof. You patted Boba’s arm once before climbing back down to the entrance where Din and Mayfeld had just jumped in. As they flew away, Mayfeld nudged Din, “Hand me that cycler rifle.” He commanded. 

Din passed him the rifle and then glanced over his shoulder at you. You jumped back a bit at the sound of an explosion and you looked down to see that Mayfeld had shot up the tanks of rhydonium, causing the entire base to blow. Him and Din watched it blow for a moment before Mayfeld walked back inside the ship, with a simple: “We all need to sleep at night.” Before he walked off. 

Din looked down at you as Mayfeld went to find a place to sit and he took your hand, “Come with me to put my armor back on.” He whispered and you nodded as he gathered the bag of his armor up and guided you to the small sleeping space that was on the far end of the ship. He closed the door behind you two and then turned to you in the cramped space and he took the helmet off again. Gently, he grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I love you, y/n y/l/n.” Din breathed before leaning down to connect your lips. He kissed you softer than he ever had before, and you attributed it to the timidness that came with the vulnerability of a visible face, but you didn’t mind, kissing him back with the same careful gentility. After a moment, he pulled away and you smiled up at him. 

“Hey, I love you too, Brown Eyes.” You teased and winked up at him. 

That earned you another, much more passionate kiss.

[kylo-reid]

Long Day (NSFW)

characters: kylo ren x female reader

word count: 2,054

summary: after both you & kylo have a long day of work, you decide to relieve each other’s stress

warnings: 18+ SMUT BELOW THE DIVIDER, swearing, masturbation, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), slight daddy kink, degradation kink, praise kink, come eating, dirty talk, spanking, face grabbing/slapping, rough sex (if i missed anything let me know)

a/n: this was the first smut i ever wrote, so it’s a bit rough lol

you carry your data pad as you stomp down the halls of the finalizer, your boots clacking against the floor. today has been a stressful day for you. general hux has been up your ass for you to finish the reports on the battle at crait and have them on his desk. thoughts have been probing your mind though, as you are the new supreme leader’s significant other. you miss kylo, he’s been very busy, doing his new job, so it’s been a few days since you’ve seen him. all you want to do is unwind, relax and cuddle into his chest.

you soon find yourself at kylo’s quarters.you meant to just go to your own room, but your wandering mind lead you here. you hesitate to knock on the door, hand raised, as it slides open.

“(y/n)... i sensed you… i—“ he’s not wearing his mask, so you stand on your toes and kiss him. his hand travels to the small of your back as he kisses you back.

kylo pulls away to grab onto your jumpsuit and pull you into his room, closing the door with the force.

“i’ve missed you… so i thought i could finish my reports with you. i-i’m sorry i haven’t gotten them done, i’ve been very distracted.” you say, looking down at your boots, cheeks dashed with pink from the spontaneous act.

a smile tugs at his lips as he nods. “i’ve missed you too. and i’d love that. even just enjoying your company would be perfect.”

you nod and sit on his luxurious bed. it’s much better than your queen bed in your quarters. kylo gets under the sheets and watches you. you pull out papers stuck under the case of the data pad and cross your legs, putting the tablet in them.

kylo’s mind is racing, he’s staring at your back and ass. it’s been months since he last had his way with you. he’s been able to kiss you and talk to you, but sex has not occurred in so long, leading to lonely nights in the shower. he’s touched himself, imagining it being your hand instead of his own. he desperately wants to throw the data pad across the room, tear up the papers, rip off your jumpsuit, and pin you to the bed.

you type away on your data pad and take your hair out of its low bun, running your fingers through it and sighing. “the loses were great. my report is going to get me killed…”

kylo sits up and frowns, moving closer to you. “i’m the supreme leader now (y/n) and you aren’t going anywhere.”

kylo pushes your hair away from your neck and begins to kiss your neck. you bite your lip and grip the data pad tighter. “k-kylo…”

he smirks, knowing he has your sweet spot under his lips, he sucks on your neck, leaving a purple bruise. when he pulls away, he kisses it gently and lays back down in the bed. your face is bright red now, and you feel a heat in between your thighs.

he’s watching you carefully, as you try to calm your breathing. you’re almost done, just a little bit longer and he can have his way with you. just a little bit longer and he can relieve the wetness in between your legs.

“i can read your thoughts… you want me so bad.” he smirks.

you turn around and see the sheets pulled back with a shirtless and pantless supreme leader. you look down at his cock and lick your lips. how badly you want to suck him off, and make him cum all over your face.

“k-kylo…” you whisper, not being able to avert your eyes.

he touches his cock and begins to pump it, slowly, and he groans. his eyes have clouded over with lust as he looks at you. “see what you do to me? how much power you have over me?”

you nod quickly and keep watching him, but he stops. you breathe a sigh of relief and turn back around, allowing yourself to get back into the report. kylo comes up behind you again, and slides his hand in between your legs, rubbing your sex through your jumpsuit. you moan and tilt your head back, trying not to get distracted. he stops and smirks, watching you carefully. few more sentences and you’ve officially sent part of your report to the general.

since you had to get up anyways, you decide to tease kylo. climbing off the bed, you see his large member desperate to be touched and his eyes on you. you turn in front of him and kick off your boots.

then, you slowly unbutton your jumpsuit, making sure to take your time with every button. then, you pull it off your shoulders, slowly, and slide it off your body, extending your ass toward kylo. he quickly climbs out of the bed and pulls the outfit off of you, and slaps your ass. you yelp out of shock, but he knows how much you like it.

he presses his member against your ass, still covered by panties. you lean back into him and look up at his face. he smiles down at you as you reach your hand up to touch the scar that runs down his cheek.

“i sent out part of it. hux will get the written portion later.” you whisper.

kylo’s hand slides in between your thighs and pulls your panties aside, rubbing his cock against your folds. your body shakes but his body is strong so he holds you up.

kylo can’t take it anymore. he unhooks your bra and rips your panties off. he picks you up with the force and tosses you on the bed. he soon crawls up the bed, slowly, and when he reaches you, he passionately kisses you.

you moan into the kiss, tangling your hands in his raven locks. kylo wraps a hand around your throat while he kisses you.

“i know how rough you like it. so i’m gonna give it to you that way. you understand, slut?” kylo whispers against your lips.

“p-please supr-supreme leader. i need yo-you…” you manage to get out these words.

kylo smirks, and lets go of your throat. being called supreme leader or sir is something that gets him off. he kisses down your chest, pinching your hard nipples as he gets down to your mound. he looks up at you through his eyelashes and takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it.

you gasp in pleasure and put your hands in his hair, tugging at his wavy locks. he rotates between licking and sucking your sweet spot. he then inserts his index finger inside you, as he continues to lick your cunt.

you can’t even gather words to say, or make noise. you just let out short breaths and arch your back, trying to pull his finger inside you more. he then inserts his middle finger, curling the two inside you and thrusting them in and out. he detaches his mouth from you and licks his lips, looking at you.

your ass is lifted off the bed, sweat gleaming down your chest. an orgasm is building up, you can feel the pressure in your stomach. “cum for me baby. you’ve been a good girl.”

you squeeze your eyes tightly and scream out his name, as he thrusts his fingers into you faster, rubbing your clit with his other hand. “fuck! kylo!”

you release all over his fingers, and even all over the sheets. you pant heavily as kylo pulls out his fingers out of you. he smirks and takes his fingers into his mouth, licking your juices from them. your cheeks get red as you watch the supreme leader, being so vulnerable as to lick you from his fingers.

“i-i think it’s your turn sir…” you whisper

kylo smirks and grips your face with his spit soaked fingers, pinching the sides of your jaw. “you wanna please me huh? so desperate to make me cum you little slut?”

you stare into his eyes and nod quickly. kylo lets your face go and slaps your cheek, then flips you up, laying where you were. he grabs your hair and pulls you down to his cock where he forces your mouth around it. he uses his hand knotted in your hair to face fuck you. the sounds coming out of your mouth are obscene. gagging and moaning fill the cold air of kylo’s chambers. you’re certain anyone walking by would know exactly what was going on in this room.

kylo pulls your head up and you gasp for air. you could take almost all of him, but it took a lot out of you. precum is leaking from his pink tip and you’re desperate to see what he wants to do next.

“ride my cock princess. and go fast. i know you can keep cumming over and over again for me. that’s what my slut does right?” he says, voice sounding animalistic.

“yes sir. i do whatever you want me. i-i will cum again for you.” you say, voice hoarse from taking his cock down your throat.

you climb up to his member. everytime you look at it, you can’t believe you take that inside of you. you straddle his waist and he slaps your ass.

“you’re taking too long” he says through his teeth. “hurry up, my whore.”

with that, you lower yourself onto him. kylo grips your hips, pushing you down as far as you go. it’s been long since he stretched you out and your cunt is tight, squeezing his length with your walls. he uses his hands gripped on your waist to bounce you up and down a few times, your breasts bouncing and eyes hooded, but he doesn’t want you riding him tonight like he thought. he wants to push into you at the deepest angle. he wants your legs spread and in the air, while he forces himself in the deepest parts of your pussy, basically reaching your cervix.

kylo flips the two of you once more, not even leaving the wetness of your sex. you wrap your legs around his hips and he thrusts into you at an accelerated pace. his head tilts back at the pleasure, your walls not letting him go.

you on the other hand, just had another orgasm, screaming out in pleasure as kylo seems to go faster than he already was. “oh stars!! kylo please fuck me! give me more!” you yell.

“(y/n), you feel so good. so tight for me. open your eyes baby” kylo moans, hair clinging to his face and neck.

you open your eyes and look into his, he smiles sweetly and at you continues to pound your cunt. he then leans down and passionately kisses you. you kiss back and bite his lip. he moans and parts his lips, allowing you to slip your tongue in his mouth. you can taste yourself lingering on his tongue. you can feel your orgasm coming closer and closer as kylo’s lips part from yours. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and moaning against it.

“stars kylo! i’m so close!” you exclaim, moaning loudly.

“me too! fuck!” he yells as you drag your nails down his back.

you continue to squeeze around him and with that, he can’t hold on any longer. he finishes inside you, releasing all inside you. you moan as you feel him fill you up and you release all around him, not wanting his cock to leave you.

the two of you lie there for a moment, panting and staring at each other. kylo laughs lightly as do you, and he slowly pulls out of you, watching his cum leak out of your cunt. you stick your fingers inside yourself, scooping up his cum and taking it into your mouth, swallowing it.

“you’re so beautiful…” he whispers as he lays down next to you.

blush coats your cheeks as he pulls the covers up around the two of you.

“and you took me so well. you’re so amazing (y/n)” he pulls you into his chest and you smile to yourself, knowing you’re the luckiest girl in the galaxy.

[bratkook]

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit. 

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured. 

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs. 

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face. 

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place. 

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea. 

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare. 

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain. 

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder. 

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this. 

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot. 

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.  

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on. 

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you. 

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him. 

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.” 

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry. 

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression. 

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more. 

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind. 

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face. 

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city. 

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him. 

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture. 

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again. 

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work. 

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation. 

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again. 

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tis the Damn Season

Chapter Five- Santa Baby

Hello, I took a couple weeks, because life can be busy, and mine is changing, but here is a little 🎁!

Thanks to @dirtystyles, she’s the real gift!

"What are you wearing?"

"I'm sorry, but what?"

 It was all she could think to say. Emma hadn't heard from Harry in months. In August he had sent her a random picture of him in a collar with long hair. She knew he had chopped his hair months ago, it had caused an internet flurry and was one of the few times he'd emerged from hibernation. She might be miffed that his year-off apparently didn't include visiting her. Not that she had asked him to.

She'd never ask.

Emma might also be incredibly miffed that he had cut off his glorious hair. She'd rocked herself to sleep many a night thinking of the way it felt trailing ver her chest, then stomach, in the crevice of her thigh. The crunch and silk of it between her fingers when she got it between her fingers at the end of that path or when he was rocking her to sleep.

Thinking about his hair usually made her hot for him, and thinking of it gone made her nostalgic, and a little mad. And that was when the memory was fresh and jot months old.

In any case, she wasn't feeling very soft for him, and that was a sexy question. She definitely wasn't feeling wet for him.

She had just walked out of class on a freezing cold day before she was ready for it to be this chilly, and she had to ride her bike. Her class was on individual contribution to global crises. Emma was the first to point out that individuals were not the true climate change culprits, but every bit helped. She just wished she'd ridden one of the clean energy buses today. Today sucked.

"Your teeth are chattering Emma, you outside?" she made an affirmative sound and he wisely knew better than to wait for an answer after that. He'd set up this mood, after all. "Sorry, came out wrong, it was meant to be funny." Harry had an apology in his voice. It was like the first knead of a dough, but he had a long way to go. "Anyway, what I meant is, I'm Christmas shopping, and I was thinking about what you might like, was gonna get you a jumper, and I think I have an idea of your style, but wanted a little guidance, I'd hate to buy you something and have you hate it—"

"Harry, take a breath!" She could feel that smile he had a way of bringing to her lips, despite herself. She really wanted to be upset with him, but seemed he'd proved himself, or distracted her at least.

Emma can't quite get a full grasp on why she's irritated with the phone call with him.  She's not sure what she expected. They never had a conversation about it, about how they are just a little holiday fling. She's never even had a summer fling, so she doesn't know the rules but she assumes that they are not supposed to repeat year on year. Least not without some progress or a defining conversation where they decided on not a relationship. He was confusing. He'd been so happy to have a bit of extra time with her, she'd thought he might be in touch more, with his seemingly abundant free time. She's wanted him to be in touch more. But he hadn't.

She'd heard from him less than ever.

And now he was buying her gifts and making her smile. Damn him.

"I'm breathing, promise." He sighed. "I just could tell I'd pissed you off, and I don't want to. I've been thinking about Christmas, and well, I'm excited."

"I'm excited too. Holidays are exciting." Emma is not going to read into that. He's excited to be with his family. He's Christmas shopping for everyone. This is not about her, them.

There is no them.

There is no them, except between Christmas Eve and New Years. And that is purely physical.

These are the things she repeated to herself when she was sad, waiting for him to call or text. Sad from how he dragged himself from their pub bed saying he'd miss her and be in touch and then wasn't. His sweet nothings were like when people signed your yearbook K.I.T. She knew you weren't supposed to take those yearbook signings seriously, but he'd said it, not written it below some picture of him. That counted more, right? Than a picture? Those were cheap, especially of him; there were pictures of him everywhere, Emma was also upset that none of them looked like the real life him. Just a shade of his actual beauty.

She wanted to see him now. She missed him though she shouldn't.

Just over a month now until Christmas. And a busy one at that. She had so much data to sift through from the summer and a presentation she was basing on it was her culminating project. It would also make an early start on her field work come summer. Those things, academic, important things were her focused her life's work. Not delicious Harry Styles and his sweet holiday nothings.

"Yes, especially when I get my favorite for Christmas." Harry said bringing her back to the call they were on.

The meaning behind those words were a bit harder to ignore. All she could get out was "Oh?" Then she rolled her eyes at herself and cleared her throat and said, "Your mum's Christmas cake?"

He chuckled. "I am fond of that cake, I think I put on two stone last year from how much I ate. And she sent me home with one!"

Emma almost called bullshit on that. He'd expended all those calories, she'd been the apparatus.

She took a breath to speak, and he cut her off. "I don't mean the cake, anyway, I mean you: you're my favorite thing to have at Christmas. The best gift."

What was she supposed to say to that? Another eloquent oh? Instead she said, "Your favorite thing?" Playful offense on the word thing.

"Oh hush." He laughed. "You're my favorite, Emma. In case you want to be obtuse and miss my point. I'm very excited to see you."

She breathed in. All she could manage to reply with was "Me too."

She meant it, but as they got off the phone after setting up their usual tryst and a special meeting before the party to exchange gifts, she couldn't help but wonder if he did. If what he said was true, why the radio silence?

The gift on her lap on the train was large and ostentatious. She didn't have a ton of money for the it, student life, but her recipient was a millionaire, so she'd gone all out on the wrapping paper.

It was a frog in a Christmas hat, the motif on the paper. Emma remembered when she and Gemma had called Harry "frog boy" and he'd been mortified. But it had also found its way into their private rooms. Not when he was inside her, that would be weird, but when he looked up at her and grinned, all dimples and no teeth from where he likes to make her stomach a pillow.

How "Froggy" had become a term of endearment, she didn't know. The moment she'd seen the cute froggy in his holiday rig on the overpriced paper, she had stopped what she was doing, parked her bike with no lock, and popped in the shop.

She then had to find something to put in the paper. He'd been shopping for her this year, in October, and he'd said he was at the shop and she'd seen pictures of him hauling bags out of Gucci. That was not intimidating at all.

They had exchanged small things in years past. Harry had started it, he'd given a cookbook a friend recommended the year she went vegan. Then the next year he'd donated in her name to a clean air initiative. She'd just picked up odds and ends she thought he'd like, like a 100% recycled journal one year and a glass bottle set for his gym runs the next.

This year, she'd racked her brain, but she'd eventually found the perfect gift to fill her frog paper. She was getting better at this. He was entirely too good at it, and he was a quick learner. She'd been underwhelmed with the flowers he sent the first year and had explained that cut flowers made her sad. It seemed a waste to kill something for its fleeting beauty. Harry had nodded thoughtfully.

The next flower he sent was a gorgeous orchid, it arrived once she was back in Amsterdam and came with instructions. That first orchid had started a trend and between his gifts and her own new interest, her flat was looking very jungle esque.

Emma was always very excited to see him, but this year, after his call, there was more anticipation and preparation. If he was going to be ready for her, she would be ready for him.

She got a fresh haircut and trimmed her bush. The thrift store was kind to her, and her new Christmas jumper was perhaps less ugly than flattering, but that was ok with her. She particularly liked the way it lay over the skirt she'd planned to wear to the Twist's annual todo.

Her flights had been uneventful and her mother was elated and doting. Emma found it much more tolerable this year. Maybe she was just in the spirit, or maybe she'd been away from the village and her family long enough to actually miss them.

She definitely missed Harry.

He, predictably, had texted that his flight was delayed and he was trying to make arrangements, but he might not even make it in time for the party.

"I'm doing everything in my power to get there tonight. If I can't make my mother's party, but arrive tonight, can we meet? I'll call the inn."

"Yes." Was all she texted back. She found she was mourning their kiss beneath the mistletoe, and that he might miss her outfit. But Harry's power was considerable, and she had no doubt he would be at the Boar's Head in time to see what she planned to wear under the sweater.

Those pieces, she felt a twinge guilty about. They were pricey and definitely not second hand. Used pants were where she drew the line.

People, not Emma, bemoaned Harry's absence when those who still lived local or were able to travel home gathered for toast. Emma knew she wasn't the only one who came home partially to see Harry. It was why she was able to fly under Gem's radar, hopefully.

Gemma's only comment was, "He'll be here when he can." When Eloise asked where Harry was. She asked every year, it annoyed Gem, and took some of the heat off Emma. Eloise was so obvious, Gemma could direct some of her protective big sister vibes that way.

The night was winding down and Emma's third glass of champagne could use topping up. She'd just sidled into the kitchen to pop another bottle when a pair of arms came around her from behind.

She'd have dropped the bottle too if Harry had not pulled the most uncharacteristicly smooth and agile catch he'd ever made, whilst dipping her for a swoon worthy kiss.

"Harry!" Emma gasped, "What are you doing?" Her Hand went to find his hair, and she was sad to find it until she found his sharp, bare jaw instead. It cut through her nostalgia and she was able to appreciate his face on a new way. His lips.

"Getting my midnight kiss!"

"It's not New Year's." It was better, like new year's and her birthday combined, that kiss.

"Not yet!" He righted her but stayed wrapped around her while she popped the bottle. She poured him a glass too and had to refrain from holding his hand when she pulled him into the living room after they toasted.

He stole a kiss before they went to join the others.

It looked like his arrival was going to renew the party spirit, but he begged off as tired, and disappeared to his room by 1:30.

Emma wasn't sure what to do, or where to go, so she just slipped out the back at 2:00 when a car nearly gave her heart palpitations by pulling up right in front of her. The door popped open and Harry stuck his head out. "Cmon, it's our getaway car!"

She couldn't help but shake her head. "You disappeared and I didn't know what you wanted to do."

"Well, you obviously!" He giggled, high off the champagne and his conniving. "C'mon! We don't have that long. I wanna do Christmas morning with you!"

"It's still nighttime." Emma pointed out.

"Don't worry, we'll find something to do until the sun comes up." He looked up at her through his lashes and she couldn't help but bite her lips.

"What's the rush, Styles?" Emma asked as she climbed into the car. The driver seemed unconcerned and headed down the familiar lanes of a familiar place.

"No rush, I'm just excited and have to be back so I can sneak in for Christmas brunch."

"Oh." She knew that, it wasn't the first time.

"Not 'oh,' I want to give you your gifts on actual Christmas."

"Are you Santa Claus?" She teased as he pulled her into his chest.

"If that's what you're into? I'll be whoever you want me to be."

"Then just be you." She said with painful earnestness before she could stop herself.

Harry looked down at her in the cradle of his armpit and put his forehead to hers and gave her an Eskimo kiss. "As long as you're you."

Emma melted and if she hadn't been so tired and a little too drunk on bubbly she wouldn't have fallen asleep on the way to the Boar's Head.

"Baby," Harry whispered into her hair. "Wake up, we're here."

"I can't believe I fell asleep that fast."

"It's my voice, I've been told it has a sedative power."

"Sleepy is not usually how your voice makes me feel." What truth serum had she taken tonight?

"Well, I'll have to talk a lot to keep you up then. Hope you're refreshed after your little nap."

She was, and he kept her up but by 5:00, even his deep voice and other powers of persuasion couldn't keep her leaden lids open.

"Baby! Emma." Harry was kissing her awake and holding out a shirt for her slip on while slipping socks up her calves. "Present time."

"Ok, Santa baby." She yawned and let him drag her into the room where she had completely missed the tiny Charlie Brown tree in the corner. "Oh! You went all out." She looked at him in awe when she noticed the multicolored packages under the tree. "I only got you one thing," she was rubbing sleep out of her eyes and too tired to bullshit. "I'm feeling inadequate."

"Nah, I've heard it's better to give than receive."

"That's not what you said a couple hours ago."

"I'll give gifts if you give head." They both scrunched their brows. "Scratch the part where I made it sound like you were my sugar baby."

"Or a prostitute."She raised an arch brow.

"Nah, I couldn't afford you." He didn't even smirk.

So she responded, "I think you think that's a compliment."

He snort laughed and she couldn't help but smile with him. "I mean, you do it well enough to be paid for it, but by the face you're making I better quit talking and get to the spoiling to get myself out of trouble. Go on, open a present."

"Any order you envisioned."

"Um? No, the one where order matters I have a plan for."

"This isn't all?"

"This is most." He nodded and she felt a warm place under her breast that only ignited when he was being domestic.

Back in her old room in her childhood home, or in her flat in Amsterdam, she'd occasionally puzzle over these moments. They felt nothing short of boyfriendy, and she loved it. When she thought back on them, especially in the cold January days, they kept her warm and made her feel special. She hadn't ever felt that warm flush in her chest with anybody but Harry. She'd kind of avoided the feeling, usually.

By July, after long periods of silence where he was running around the world while she endeavored to save it, the glow of those days paled in the midnight sun. When he acted like a boyfriend, like they were more than a hookup and then ignored her, it hurt. When she was well into her yearly drought, and all she had were those shooting stars to wish upon, the sweeter he was, the more rich the ache, the aftertaste saccharine.

Emma could tell, his gifts and the joy he seemed to take in giving them would warm her to the backbone through January, and make her teeth hurt by July.

And still she couldn't convince herself to stop, to ask, to protect herself. She couldn't even detach a little, she was so excited about the little stuffed animal she had for him in return.

"Harry, this is beautiful!" She unfolded a gorgeous sweater dress of a fine wool knit that screamed warm.

"Yeah?" He smiled, pleaded with the praise and himself. "I was at Gucci, and I was gonna get you some stuff there, but they just didn't feel like you, so I started doing some research on sustainable brands and I found this one, and another. This one is good for day to day, it's called Ever Lane, and the next, Bode, it's great for retro pieces. Open the next one."

She'd been staring at him. He was going to buy her Gucci? This was better, but that seemed like a pretty penny to spend on your holiday hook up. She knew money wasn't really an object for him. He always paid for the hotel on their rendezvous and she never brought it up. It was always just taken care of. She wasn't a starving student, but she also wasn't an international pop star. These gifts felt big, bigger than what they were.

He liked to be generous. But, it felt like these gifts, the 5 packages and one coming later were a statement in a language she didn't understand.

"Harry, this is too much." Was all she could say. He didn't respond with words, just gave her a look and shrugged his shoulders like, 'what else am I supposed to do with it'.

Emma knew from Gemma that Harry took care of them, their vehicles and his mum's house and whatever they mentioned they wanted or he thought they'd like.

Gemma had said last year, when she was thrilling over her Christmas gifts, "It's the one time of year I let him get away with it. The rest of the time I've gotten to where I don't mention things I like or want, because they show up on my doorstep, you know?"

Emma had nodded even though she didn't know, but she did now. He was so thoughtful it hurt, but the implications troubled her.

"Open the next one. I'm really excited for it."

It was a beautiful jacket, mustard, her favorite color, and matching mittens.

"For when you want to ride your bike, but it's chilly. They're very warm." He remembered she was cold on her bike that day.

Emma knew he remembered her text after the 'what are you wearing' conversation about being grumpy because she had chosen to ride her bike but it was too cold. His big beating heart could melt snow.

She swallowed down the sentiments clogging her throat along with her worries. Should she ask? She'd have too, eventually. This was feeling more serious than it should be, like he wanted to call her babe for more than a weekend, like he wanted her to stay, with him.

It's what she wanted, in some part of her, but was completely out of the question. He had a big international life, and she had her own global ambition.

The rest was wrapped donation cards to causes she'd worked for or even mentioned. The last gift was a small box, and when she opened it, she cried, then laughed and handed him his box.

"What?" He said, "I can't tell if you're happy or sad about that gift?" He worries his bottom lip.

It was another frog, just like the one she'd picked as the tangible gift when she'd made the donation in his name.

Emma just shrugged and wiped her eyes. "Open it."

His bursting balloon laugh inflated her merry heart. "Did we really do the exact same thing?" His face had an odd look she could only call tender.

"Same wavelength, me and you." He was misty like she had been a moment ago. He leaned forward and kissed her. Then picked up their stuffed frogs and made them kiss like he was a small child playing dolls. "I almost don't want to separate them."

"Are we still talking about the frogs?" She laughed, because she had a feeling they weren't.

He shrugged and his phone began to buzz. "Can I take a rain check on answering that question? If I don't leave right now, they will know I stayed out all night on Christmas Eve, and there will be questions. I don't think we are quite ready to explain what we are." He chose that moment to yawn like a lion in the late afternoon after a long day of lounging and got up to leave.

Emma still had questions.He'd said not quite ready to explain what they were doing. Emma wasn't even sure what they were doing. Were they going to tell people, tell Gemma? Tell them what? That they were together? Wanted to be together? Belonged together. The frogs too, did the frogs belong together?

He was dressed by the time she was done freaking out. He looked tired, but exhilarated, like he'd spent a night getting everything he wanted and a few things he didn't know he needed. "Bye doll," he kissed her, right on the mouth, affectionately and with only a trace of the heat the December air lacked. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Merry Christmas! I wanna see you in the sweater," he was walking through the door. "Oh, and the other thing?"

"Other thing?" She looked at him confused.

He pointed underneath the tree. "Have another look."

Emma blushed when she opened the lingerie. She wondered if he'd had to check her pants and bras for sizes or if he just knew the shape of her well enough that he'd guessed accurately.

They looked really good.

She needed to be getting home as well. There would be no getting out of it, she needed an excuse for rolling in just in time for Christmas brunch, her parents were notorious early risers, as was she. Her plan was to tell them she'd just made too merry the night before and slept on the couch at the Twist's. It was truth adjacent. It was the best she could come up with, her head was full of Harry and she couldn't think.

Her Christmas passed in a blur of food and wine and wrapping paper. Harry had sent her a picture of him with a bow on his head and asked her if she felt spoiled enough or needed him to wear the bow the next day.

She'd told him to wear it. And only it.

She'd not expected him to follow directions both precisely and with some creative license.

"Do you really think your cock is a gift?" She tried to mock him, while he stood proudly, hips first in their room at the Boat's Head.

"Well, I intend to give it to you!" He raised his eyebrows and stalked toward her. "I like the sweater. Looks amazing, but? Probably better here." He swept it over her head and deposited it on the floor.

"That was atrocious!" She giggled, but felt no anxiety unlike the last day or so.

"Yeah, maybe, but I needed to see if you'd worn my other gift."

"I thought it was my gift."

"For both of us, I'd argue." He winked.

"You wink like a drunk pirate." She couldn't help but smile at him. His silly banter had completely removed the nerves she should be feeling, standing in front of him in a Santa red bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings. She'd sourced the Santa hat herself and the black heels were hers.

"I'm feeling drunk seeing you in this." His hands were running over the satin on her hips and the lace at her waist, then the bare flesh of her ass. "I think I even lied to myself. This was definitely my present." The last word was said against her lips and his big hands slid down the globes of her backside to between her thighs, hoisting her onto his hips. The trail his thumbs left had her shivering.

The bed rose up to meet her. Harry hovered over her before standing and staring.

"Are we on pause?" She was panting and really hoping they were not stopping let alone slowing.

He opened his hands like a director, "I'm just trying to remember this to keep me warm all year." He ran his hands from her toes to her curled hair, she'd gone all out, then back down. His face was full of anticipation and a hesitation she'd never seen when she was this bare, not even the first time when he was flush on bravado and international acclaim.

"What is it?" She started to sit up.

He groaned. "Wow, that move did great things for your chest."

Emma could only laugh. He was acting like he'd never seen a naked woman, when he'd probably seen more than his fair share, and had definitely seen her before.

"You're acting like you've never seen me before."

"It's always like the first time. You're overwhelming."

"I'm overwhelming?" She wanted to laugh, she saw him as Harry, at first her friend's brother, then the cute boy with the big career she'd hooked up with, then her favorite holiday surprise, and now she couldn't define exactly what he was to her, mostly Harry? Who she missed all year and cherished for a week at a time in person, a deeply in her heart the rest of the time. She remained aware, however, of who he was, at large.

"Absolutely, I can barely take you. Can't believe I get to have you." What did she say to that? She only nodded, it was mutual. "Listen," he continued, "Can I take a picture of you. I'll keep your face out of it."

She thought for a moment, thrilled that he wanted to save this memory, to relive this moment until they met again. She didn't have any pictures of him, and thought there were so many online, none of them were really of him. "Yeah, go on Harry."

Maybe she should take one back. Save the neck down one place and the neck up as her wallpaper, she could get away with it. She saw classmates with him as their Home Screen. Her plans kept the nerves at bay while he got his set up ready.

He posed a leg, had her lay back, and then sit up. He took about 5 pictures on his phone, then three Polaroids, and by then she was getting into it. She was moving in ways that made her feel sexy and he was getting antsy.

"I'll show you, so you can approve, after." He discarded the phone and pulled his jumper over his head before crawling up the bed and over her.

"I trust you Harry. It's fine."

She wasn't sure what it was about those words, but he grew, thicker between her thighs and larger in her presence before he was kissing her bra off and asking if he could leave the stockings and shoes on.

"'Mmmhmmm." Emma moaned from her perch on the pillows looking down watching him pull her panties free and reattaching her stockings. "Damn." He kissed both places and flipped her over to skate his lips up her thighs and ass and back. Her hair was over her face while he kissed her neck and rutted into her with his jeans still on. She grabbed a handful of his glorious hair and kissed him over her shoulder. "Like this?" She asked.

"Mmhmmm." He echoed and she felt him kicking his jeggings free and sliding on the condom. She was flat on the mattress and unsure if he wanted her to push back on her knees. She didn't need to think about it long, he hoisted her up, and pressed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades so her body arched like a slide. His fingers climbed up to cascade down her backbone in an echo of the ride he was about to take down. He was right there, hovering, and Emma pushed back, but the whine in her voice was the more obvious tell.

"Baby, I need you."

"I need you, so much. Miss you when I'm gone."

She missed him when she was gone too. He slid his head in and waited. Emma wasn't really in control of the clenching this caused and it made Harry lose his grip on his. The smack of his hips against her thighs reverberated off the borrowed walls they considered their own.

He stroked her inside out and commented on the grip of her onto his dick. "It's like you don't want to let me go," he whispered into her ear.

Emma turned her head and breathed, "I don't want to." The kiss broke his rhythm and lingered until her clenching started over, again. How was she so close so soon?

"No, no, no." She whined when he pulled out.

"Shhhh, I've got you." He knew she was onto something, they'd become practiced hands at each other's pleasure.

He flipped her over and smoothed her hair back, bracketing her face between his hands like an aside he needed to voice right at that moment. "I just want to see you."

He went back in with ease, and with anybody else she might be ashamed for how embarrassingly wet she was, for the squelch. "God! Harry!" Her thighs came up to his hips and he hitched one over his elbow and open, then lay a good portion of his weight onto her. It was just the right side of too much. Just like all of him.

"Let me find it again, that high you were chasing?"

She was nodding, babbling. He picked up the rhythm from before and added a tiny rut at the end to the swelling of her clit. She was back on the trail to the summit quickly. It had been good, if fumbling, from night one. By this gift season, it was like he had installed all of her buttons personally and could push her to the edge at will. Her eyes were closed and she was concentrating hard on the oasis just beyond her horizon.

"Baby," he whispered, his breath soft and scented like her lip balm. "Open your eyes." He was just over her and he wrapped her open thigh back and around his knee. "Watch me," he made a c with his body so she could watch the goings on and feel them too.

"Oh, fuck."

"I love your filthy mouth. When you get going. Demure driven Emma on the brink has a dirty dirty mouth."

She'd narrow her eyes at him if she could bear to look away from his cock.

"Baby!" She gasped.

"Hold it, stay, just a little longer." He kissed her and then compelled her eyes to his. "I'll come with you."

His nose touched hers at just the tip and he rocked her and watched as she trembled and held off and pleaded. "Now, now, come now." He grit his teeth in preparation, but he needn't have worried, the minute he commanded it, she obeyed and the body roll of sensation ran from the roots of her hair to the bends of her knees.

He seized and his head fell back, but as soon as he was in command of himself again, his eyes were back on hers. "I love...," he gasped and her mind raced over what the hell he might say. What she wanted to gasp back. It was a bit of a comedown as opposed to a denouement when he filled in, "...having you for Christmas."

He buried his face in her neck and breathed into the nooks and crannies she thought she had kept safe from him.

Which was why it hurt so much when she had to tell him no.

His final gift, complete with an aching grin, had been an open ended ticket. "So you can come to me, with me, on tour."

She knew her brow knotted up like a bundle of discarded yarn. That wasn't the agreement. And she couldn't, couldn't even allow herself to want it. She had her PhD program looming. There was no time to go anywhere this fall.

"Harry, you know I can't."

He looked crestfallen, like this was new information and not why they only got these stolen snowbound days once a year. "Can't or won't?" He was verging on angry and it would piss her off if her heart wasn't so close to fissuring.

Honesty was her only policy, "Both." She handed the ticket back to him.

It ruined their night, the movie they tried to distract themselves with, the goodbye sex they didn't have.

He wasn't even there when she woke up the next morning.

But the tickets were on his pillow with a small note, "Change your mind, please. I'll be seeing you. H."

[thedemonstherapist]

hello friend!! thanks for your patience with this i really appreciate it 💜 here's stuff about me!

Likes: bunnies, chilly breezes, naps with my partner, chats with my bestie, getting to go home from work on time, learning new things, the colors purple pink and blue, stuffed animals, dancing, the moon, cooking for others, others cooking for me, being invited to things even if i can't go, solvable problems, clear instructions

Dislikes: hot weather, feeling sweaty, dust and how it gets on everything, same for sand, when someone tells me something i was gonna do anyway so now i don't want to, when shirts are too small in the arms but fit everywhere else, feeling disoriented after a sleep, when people think an animal behavior is cute without caring that it might be a stress response or bad for the animal, wasabi peas

I'm a Gemini sun, Scorpio moon, Sagittarius rising, but it's not super important to me, I just read astrology for fun. I really like my data entry job because I know more or less what each day looks like, but there's enough variation to keep it interesting. I'm occasionally forgetful and I'm trying to work on that. I have a lot of crafty hobbies that I pick up and drop occasionally. I can sleep anywhere. Every night I tell my bestie and my partner good night with "good night noodle" and "good night my love" respectively. My gender is best described as "no gender, left bisexual". I refuse to have guilty pleasures in that I refuse to feel bad for something I enjoy. Sometimes I feel like my attempts to communicate clearly by being as specific as possible backfire because instead of making things clear, it makes things too complicated. My goals in life are to be nice and have fun.

Thaaaaaat's all I can think of! Thanks again my friend!!

⋆｡⋆˚Benign Favour.⋆｡⋆

“To win a creature's trust shows grace and patience. To keep their favour is a task that can only be accomplished by even deeper compassion and an inherently kind soul” is a sentence that has stuck to your very core since childhood. As a WATATSUMI ISLAND native, you grew up around the sea, constantly surrounded by magical beings and a mystical, enchanted environment. It is only natural that this fuelled your curiosity towards all forms of life upon this continent, a curiosity that has long since carried over into adulthood.

Now, as an accomplished veterinarian and researcher, you reside in FONTAINE, in one of the smaller communities on the outskirts of the big city. Your day consists of treating new and old patients with endless diligence and kindness, from common pets like cats and dogs to wildlife that gets brought in or brings itself through the doors in search of your help and healing. There is variety in your day to day, but exceedingly rarely can something throw you out of balance and leave you stunted, but even then, you always find a solution in the end. Your small clinic is an overgrown older house, one that used to be a florist shop and whose garden doubles as a small rehabilitation area for any long-term patients. You have helpers, of course, so you can always rest assured when you close for the day and head home to your family that health and safety are guaranteed in your off-time.

A green DENDRO VISION glows at your hip and assists you with your work. Wisdom comes in many forms, and one of them is exceptional emotional intelligence. The day you won the Gods favour is one that should have been one of many - a simple stroll on your way towards town during your years in training caused you to come across a heavily wounded creature making weeping sounds of distress, one that was of no recognition to you. Nevertheless, you crouched down and began to do what you could with limited supplies. It was a fight for their life, and you worked tirelessly, determined to save what you would later realise was a previously undiscovered type of dragon. By the time its breath had become regular, hours and hours into the day, you reached down and your fingers first brushed the cool surface of your vision.

You had learned to fight before, long ago, during your time in your homeland. The POLEARM was the traditional weapon of Inazuma, though yours took a more unorthodox form. More comparable to a scythe, its curved blade in your experienced hand cuts through trouble with ease. You rarely use it for anything but defense, as it comes in handy when you’re gathering wood or herbs in the forest, but your skillful movements pay off when they have to.

Of course, you had to learn to control the elemental energy that had been gifted to you. With help from friends and colleagues, you’d begun to master both the healing and defensive as well as the offensive powers Dendro possessed. NETTLING DEFIANCE causes a quake to run through the earth around you, springing thorns out from under any enemies and causing lasting damage for 5-7 seconds. It has AOE effect and builds a base for your elemental Burst, INCITEMENT OF MERCY. This has a healing effect on any ally in the proximity, one that is lasting and regenerates HP for about 45 Seconds, as well as dealing increased elemental damage to any enemy struck during the 25 Seconds following usage.

As mentioned, you are not the only person on your path of life. You are lucky to count the brilliant and compassionate SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI to your close friends from childhood and always make time for her during your visits back home. Another person that has won your kind heart is the sweet and energetic XIANGLING, with whom you can show a different side of yourself in the kitchen and who always pushes you to try new things.

The Veterinary Clinic you run has truly become a sanctuary for many in need, and your gentle character is truly the right one to guide it. Flowers in your hair and a bunny in your arms, you’re greeted with waves and chirps of pleasure, whether on your way to work or home. After a long day you can look forward to rest and relaxation, dinner under moonlight and good company, secure in your future and knowing what to expect from tomorrow. And with healing hands gliding over scales, feathers, fur and occasionally, even skin, you make an impact each and every day, often, just with a joke and steadyfast reassurance. And those, the things that make the most difference, are ones you have never needed the Gods favour to accomplish.

[missfluffywriter]

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected!!!! I’ve been MIA for like almost two weeks now. I am so sorry this was lateeee!! And we’re almost as 100k!!! Ahhh I don’t want to dissapoint anyone! Sheesh anyway, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 12.3k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, discription of gore, minor character death,  inconsistant grammar lol

Yes I had make that a header, the gore is like pretty discriptive and I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I have put markers where the discription starts and where it ends if you would like to skip the the gory bits look out for the markers and just skip that little bit, you won’t miss anything important I promise!

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

‘Tansies’

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Unease lacing Jimin’s voice as he shadowed your path.

‘No, never theorize before you have data,’ You reprimand yourself, recalling one of the many pieces of advice you had filed away for future use. For all, you knew Duri may have simply liked the vibrance of the golden blooms and added the sunny flower to accent the otherwise monochrome room with a pop of color.    

“(Y/n)?” Tenderly taking your hand into his Surprisingly larger ones. His attention wholly focused on your ever-changing expression.

“Oh, uh, flower一uh tansies一 where? Where is she?” Mind working faster than your mouth could articulate, you stumble on your words, (e/c) orbs searching for a certain peach-blonde female.  

“Where is who?” Jimin questions, his honey-brown orbs narrowing in confusion, your jumbled mess of a sentence further perplexing the silver-blonde.

“Soomin!” Your answer is immediate, almost urgent as your body makes a full ninety-degree turn, holding onto Jimin's comforting grasp, your eyes hunting for the peach haired woman in the space behind you.

“What?!” The woman in question squeaks, startled by your booming voice as she enters the room, having just returned from stationing her men to accommodate the situation. Preparing them to move out at a seconds notice though maintaining a certain level of organization.

“Flowers, did Ji-Eun like flowers? Or did she have an interest in them or anything?” You question the female eagerly, gesturing to the lavender vase as she fluidly makes her way towards the object of your concerns.

Her facial features fold into a frown at your question, looking at you as though you had just asked the most bizarre of questions. “Not that I know of,”

“Do you know who might have put those there?” You blurt, eyes actively scanning over the blonde girl's expression. The imperativeness in your voice may have come out more of as panic as Jimin’s hold around your hand tightens comfortingly, which does to some length relax your posture.

“Why the fuck would I know?” She glares, exaggeratedly dropping her hands to further display her incredulity.

‘Damn it,’ Your teeth grab onto your lower lips, softly nibbling on the soft muscle. The tightness of frustration seizes your chest. This did absolutely nothing to narrow down the variables and possibilities of what had really happened, and this largely widens the margin of error when making predictions or even planning your next move. There was nothing more aggravating than missing pieces of information, especially when lives were on the line.  

“But,” Soomin’s sharp voice breaks you from your train of thoughts. “I do know that Duri would never own something as hideous as that,” Emphasizing “that”, she gestures to the slender lavender vase that held the flowers.    

And she was right, although the vase in itself wasn’t all that awful. It was just that the lilac of the vase clashed with the golden petals of the tansies and the overall aesthetic of the room. But did that actually mean something?

The skin of your palms tingled as sweat accumulated on them from both excitement and fear. Your instincts scream at you in warning, there was more to these flowers. ‘No, that still doesn’t account for every variable. One of the maids could have put it there. Or maybe she just felt like having flowers in her room,’ But this was too perfect, flowers with a meaning of a declaration of a war placed at a kidnapping site of a possible ally. But then why bother leaving a declaration of war in the language of flowers? It would have been much easier to leave it in writing, would it not?

As a matter of fact, not leaving any sort of note or evidence of their presence would have given the kidnappers - or rather the Yeongs - a bigger advantage. So why go through the trouble of declaring war through flowers? And flowers of all things; if you hadn’t been there, the men and even Soomin together wouldn’t have caught it.

Your eyes widen at the thought; if you hadn’t been there no one would have noticed this message - if it was a message. And it clicked, this was a warning, a proclamation. And the reason behind the effort put into this covert notice. This message wasn’t just for anyone to find, this was a message for you to find and in translation for Bangtan. This was Yeong's declaration of war against Bangtan. But more than that, they were targeting you. They chose to relay their words through you.

In other words, this was a warning to you as much as it was for Bangtan. This was their way of letting you know they knew you existed and that they were preparing to deal with you as well. If they knew of your hand in the recent achievements then their mole must be much closer than you might have earlier anticipated.  

“Jimin,” You breath out, your grip on his hand tightening in distress.

“What is it?” Jimin soothingly rubs his thumb back and forth, trying to ease your hold and worry.

“Tansies,” You say. “Tansies mean hostility, “I declare war against you”,” Eyeing the male you guide his thoughts to where yours were. The whites of his eyes are a little more visible as his eyes spread a tad apart, understanding what you were insinuating to.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice breathy in the same disbelief you were in earlier. You reply with a tentative nod, his expression souring as he turns to the peach-blonde female leaning against the wooden desk. “And you’re positive it was the Yeongs that called for this attack?” He asks Soomin.

“Well, considering we have security footage of one of Yeong’s closest men calling the shots on the scene,” She scoffed at the male’s question. “So yes, I’m sure,”

“So does this mean what I think it means?” Taehyung quips from his seat on the sofa.

“This is Yeong’s move,” Jimin mutters, his honey-brown orbs narrowing as he moves towards Taehyung and Hoseok.

“So Yeong’s called a war against you, huh?” Soomin’s voice audibly drops an octave, her chocolate-colored orbs sharpening into a glare.

“We’ll have to be extra careful from here on out,” You state, singing as you rest your weight on the desk behind you.

“What a shit storm,” The chestnut-haired breaths out as he rests his head against the back of the sofa.

“I can’t exactly speak for Duri but,” Soomin pauses. “Know that you can expect my full support going on out,”

“Oh?” Taehyung eyes the female.

“Yes,” She affirms confidently. “Yeong dares to take one of my own, my mother, no less. The bastard isn’t gonna get away with this,” Growling as she spoke, anger burned in her chocolate irises.

“We appreciate your support,” Jimin replies formally. An action you wholeheartedly agree with. If Yeong was on the move then Bangtan had to begin preparations as well.

“Don’t worry we can go over those details some other time,” Soomin waves her hand dismissively, knowing you wouldn’t have been satisfied with just her vow.

“Thank you,” Your eyes fall to the floor, head tilting down in respect to the girl.

“And I guess I should thank you too, huh?” Looking to the ebony-haired male that had been standing silently to the side.

“Huh? Me?” Hyuk questions, his eyes blowing wide as he points a finger to himself.  

“Yes, you,” Chuckling, you nod. “If you hadn’t pointed out the flowers I would have totally missed it.”

“Oh, no!” Hyuk furiously shakes his head from one side to another. His cool disposition melting in a flustered mess. “I was just trying to make conversation, and those flowers were the first thing that caught my eye was all.”

“Well, I’m glad it did,” You smile at the slender man as he fakes a cough, gathering together his composure. “Thank you, Hyuk,” You softly express your gratitude, partly to further fluster the male.

“Uh, no probl一”

“We found her!” Namjoon charges into the room, cutting off the ebony-haired male. A cell-phone in hand, Namjoon power walks to Jimin. “Ji-Eun was there at the location,”

“She was?! Are you sure? Was she okay?” Soomin kicks herself off the desk as she practically rushes Namjoon.

“Yes,” Namjoon speaks. “The location you gave me led us to an abandoned building way far up in the mountains. I had operatives closest to the location scope it out and the building was guarded by Yeong’s men and she was there. Ji-Eun Duri was seen on the third floor of the building,” He narrated the situation.

‘This feels too easy,’ Your forehead knitted together as you listened to the male. Now that you knew of Yeong’s awareness of you, this was too easy, too simple, too straightforward. After everything that’s happened, it couldn’t be possible that straight forward. Almost as if someone had dictated the direction of the scene, like this was meant to happen.

Really thinking about the whole situation, this worked out too perfectly, considering a thousand variables that could have been in play. This scenario was far too ideal. If Duri’s captors had the time to place those flowers. ‘The footprints!’ Your head snaps to the floor as you examine muddy footprints left behind by the kidnappers.

And sure enough, none of the footprints led towards the vase, all of them stopped quite a distance from the desk. So unless they threw the vase onto the desk, someone else either planted the flowers late on or there was someone else with the kidnappers. But the question was who? And if all of this was scripted by the Yeongs then what was the real goal? What were they after?

‘Think, come on think. There must be something I’m missing! What could they gain by kidnapping Ji-Eun Duri? Why Ji-Eun Duri? And Why today? Why would they take her only to let us find her?’ Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you had just answered your own question. ‘So that’s what’s going on,’  

“Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?” Soomin’s booming voice startles you from your thoughts. “Let’s get going already!” She briskly stomps out of the room.

“Hyuk,” Jimin calls for the charcoal-haired male. “Follow her and make sure she doesn’t get herself killed,”

“Sir,” Hyuk salutes before hurting after the female that had stormed out the room. Though normally the peach-blonde was a rational woman, however, going by the way she charged away. Her sense of reason may not be at its peak at the moment.    

“Where is our team right now?” Shining, Jimin asks Namjoon.

“I told everyone to be on standby a good distance from the actual building. Which was made easy thanks to the place being surrounded by a forest,” The syrup-brown haired man reports.  

“Good, tell them to stay there until we get there,” The silver-blond nods approvingly, making his way toward the exit before noticing your lack of presence.

“(Y/n)?” Calling for your name, the don pivots on his foot to meet your rattled expression as you stiffly stood by the desk.

“Where are Jiyoung and his family being kept?” You ask the two men.

“At one of our safehouses farther away from the city… Why?” Namjoon answers his calm features hardening into a serious expression.  

“Jimin, Namjoon before we leave, can you do something for me?” You request.

“What do you want me to do?” The taller of the pair inquires, looking down at his boss questioningly.

“Man, they really dragged us out, huh?” Taehyung yawned, stepping out of the luxurious short limousine, he stretched his limbs.

“Where is Duri?” Soomin demands the minute she steps out of her sleek black SUV.

“Over there,” One of the many well-dressed men points to a cloud-grey, four-story building situated a distance away, and the more you examined it, the more it looked like a school. “She is being held in one of the rooms on the third floor.”

“How many of them are there?” Jimin comes to stand beside the peach-blonde as he questions the man standing before them.

“Not many,” The male answers. “Ten or fifteen at most,”

“That’s it?” Soomin blanches at the man’s reply.

“Yes, ma’am,” He respectfully responds.

“Report,” Jimin commands as the other man bows before beginning.

“The main and back entrances are each guarded by two guys. From what we could see there are men on each floor stationed around the stairs or hidden in rooms. The first floor has the most men, the second floor has fewer men, but the third floor is the least guarded,” He gives a detailed report of the situation.

“Do they have a sniper?” Namjoon asks.

“Not that we’ve seen,” A diplomatic answer if you’d ever heard one. The hickory-brown haired male that had been explaining the situation cleanly offered his findings without promising or assuring you of anything. You would have to remember to bring him up at the meeting, he could prove useful in a higher position, but at the same time, he could also become a threat. ‘No, stay focused,’ Shaking your head you refocus yourself on the task at hand.

“Send out the snipers, we’re going with the usual,” Jimin directs both the man standing before and Namjoon, who acknowledged the command with a nod, walking towards the group that had been gathered.

“The usual?” You question the silver-blonde.

“We attack with all our forces while our snipers provide support from a distance,”

“So basically you’re gonna rush ‘em,” You retold what you had taken away from the mafia don’s plan.

“Pretty much yeah,” Taehyung chirps in, hands behind his head, he strolls over to where you stood.

“What if they use Ji-Eun as a hostage and threaten to kill her?” A questioning brow lifts on your face as you ask the group of three men and a woman.

“I… didn’t think that far,” Taehyung pauses, surprised, his eyelids fluttering as his hands drop to his sides and into his pant pockets.

“Right,” You huff a breath as your brain moves to formulate a plan that would give you a better chance of getting Duri out of her captors hold, safely and quickly. Eyebrows furrowing together, your forefinger moves up to rub the skin underneath your lower lip.

Duri’s safety was the top priority, you needed a plan that ensured Duri’s well being while effectively dealing with the armed men and minimize damage and loss for both Bangtan and Soomin.

“First things first, we need to take care of the men closest to Ji-Eun. Then we can deal with the others as they come,” Heaving a deep sigh, you decide to speak your thoughts aloud when your imagination begins running rampant and muddling any coherent plan that may have formed.

“Tell me,” You call for the attention of the three men standing before you, the same thoughtful expression present on each of their faces. “Can the snipers take out the people guarding Ji-Eun?” You ask.

“Uh. We’ll have to draw them to a place where the snipers have a clear shot,” Jimin answers.

“But that doesn’t mean we would get them all and I don’t think the guys from the first and second floors would do nothing when they hear gunshots firing,” Taehyung adds, waving his hand dismissively as if rejecting your idea.

“If we could somehow clear the first floor, lure the men from the second floor to the first and take care of them there while taking out the guys up top, then we’d be golden,” Stringing together the few intelligible thoughts that you retained from the jumbled mess your mind had been.

“We sure would, wouldn’t we?” An aloof hum leaves the chestnut-haired mafioso’s lips.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” You grumble at his unproductive contribution to the conversation.

“Well then, why don’t we do just that?” A rich, honeyed voice resounds in the vicinity.

“Hyuk,” You say the name of the owner of the sweet voice. “There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong,” You explain, providing examples of the many mishaps that could occur. “Like what if we don’t get all of the guys from the third floor? Or what if someone from the second floor got to the third floor?”

“Plus, we can’t exactly use guns,” Jimin chimes into the conversation.

“And why can’t we use guns?” Nose scrunching in confusion Taehyung asks.  

“Were you even paying attention?” Your question flatly, your black gaze staring him down. “The loud sound would give us away,” You explain with another deep breath as exasperation made its way into your system. The situation was much more complicated than you had originally expected.  

“No. I think guns will be plenty useful,” Hyuk strums as his forefinger swipes across his cupid’s bow. 

“Oh really? And how would that be?” Shifting your weight in your other foot, you ask. 

“Just leave it to us,” He says, much to your confusion.

“Us?” You repeat.

“Well, them,” The charcoal-haired mafioso gestures to the group of men and woman standing behind him.

“Them?” Your face scrunches at the male’s vague words. 

“Yes, with the team gathered here today,” Hyuk further explains with a proud smile. And though your expression remained muddled with confusion.

“And just what exactly do you intend to do?”

“Hm, I’m surprised you don’t already know,” Your features sour at his words, though it wasn’t exactly his words that off-put you, it was his mocking tone of voice. Besides, did he expect you to know everything?

“And just what might that be?” You ask the ebony-haired male.

“It’s simple really,” He answers. “We’ll need a distraction upfront while people sneak in from the back. And when it comes to Ji-Eun-ssi, our snipers will be watching her until our rescue team has a chance to get to her,”

You fall into silence as you consider Hyuk’s plan. It was by no means a foolproof plan, but a plan nonetheless. It was a gamble seeing as you would be risking the lives of those who would be playing decoy, but it was absolutely better than just rushing into the enemy’s fortress without an organized plan of attack. You look to Jimin for his take on the matter and you see the same consideration that you had displayed on your face.

“Jimin,” At the call of his name he lifts his gaze to meet yours. To find the same question in your (e/c) orbs that he had been mulling over. After seeing a deep breath leave Jimin’s plump lips, you decide it would be better to do something than doing nothing.

Tentatively you pull Jimin’s soft hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze simultaneously letting him know of your thoughts. His eyes fall to your hold before returning the comforting gesture, a soft smile curling onto his plump lips.

“Alright then, change of plans,” The don finally speaks. “Namjoon split the team into two, we will be going with this new plan,” He commands, piercing gaze landing on the syrup-brown haired man.

“Got it,” With a sharp nod, Namjoon turns towards the crowd standing by.  

“Taehyung, Hyuk, you two are with me,” Removing his expensive navy suit blazer, then undoing the cuffs of his shirt, Jimin instructs his operatives. “We’ll be going with the infiltration team,”

“Oh. You’re dead fucking wrong if you think you’re leaving me here,” Soomin’s pointed voice cuts through the atmosphere as she shrugs off her black, business-casual blazer. Subsequently revealing a glossy, cinnamon-brown, leather double shoulder holster, two jet-black guns neatly tucked in their spaces.

“Do what you want,” Jimin’s voice drowns in apathy as he inspects one of the guns from his double shoulder holster - the gun you recognized as a tanfoglio force. You don’t exactly remember much about that particular gun; it looked awfully similar to the one you were carrying. ‘Now’s not the time for that!’ Admonition yourself for drifting thoughts, you return to the situation at hand.  

“We’re going to be in enemy territory, be careful, watch yourself. And remember, the idea is not to get killed,” Separating from your little huddle, Jimin continued, once satisfied with the state of the weapon and securing it back into its place. Soomin and Taehyung wordlessly followed as the mafia boss made his way towards the decently sized group of men and women gathered.

Unsure of what you were supposed to do, you quietly trail behind the trio, assuming you would be tagging along as you had been up to this point. However, you were sorely mistaken as you were stopped by the baritone voice of a certain chestnut-haired mafioso.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Taehyung asks, stepping directly in front of you.

“Uh, with you guys?” Your answer comes out as more of a question, seeing as you yourself weren’t sure of where you were supposed to be or go.

“No, you are not,” Jimin interjected, gently pulling you into him with an arm, a gesture you gladly obliged, making yourself comfortable in his hold.

“Well, then where am I supposed to be?” Craning your head towards the silver-blond you ask.

“Here,” Jimin casually replies.

“Here?” Mimicking the mafioso’s words, you look at the male questioningly.

“Yes, here,” He says, his eyes drifting to Hoseok’s form. “While we take care of that, you and Hoseok are staying right here,”

“So, you want me to stay back?”  

“Exactly,” Jimin nods.

“Why?” The question flies out of your mouth before your brain could register what was coming out of your mouth.  

“You already know why,” The silver-blond’s response is immediate as his eyes narrow at the unusual amount of attitude that laced your voice. You lowered your head as his hardened gaze fell onto you. He was right, you did know why you were being left behind. With your current level of skill, you were more of a hindrance than any help.

“Just stay here, okay?” Sighing, Jimin pulls you into a proper embrace as he speaks to you softly, delicately even. “We’ll be back soon enough,” The warm breath of his whisper brushes against the inner shell of your ear ticklishly before moving his lips higher tenderly placing a lingering kiss on your temple.

The action sent the metaphorical butterflies of your stomach into a frenzy. There it was again, the Jimin effect, you contemplated officially naming this - now - regular phenomenon. With an inaudible groan, you bury your flushed face into his neck, sluggishly nodding a ‘yes’. Before a single coherent thought is finally able to process in your brain.

“Wait if I can’t go, then why are you going?” You ask, tilting your head upwards to meet two gorgeous pools of honey - which are Jimin’s eyes.

“Because I’m the boss,” The nonchalance in his tone truly astonished you, your agape mouth a clear sign of your amazement and dismay. How could he talk about walking into a dangerous and very much so a life-threatening situation so calmly, so easily?

“Isn’t that more of a reason to not go?” You blanch at he male’s coolness.  

“No,” You receive a single worded answer as he gently presses a chaste kiss on your forehead before releasing you from his warmth.

“But一”

“Everything is set, we’re ready to move out,” Namjoon’s firm voice interrupts your oncoming rebuttal to Jimin’s short statement.  

“Then let’s move out,” The silver-blond moves further away from you, though you suspect he was purposefully ignoring you.

“Jimin wai一” You call, only from the man to completely discounts your voice, continuing on his path. ‘He’s ignoring me isn’t he?’ Relenting with a sigh you instead decide to wish the group their best. “Be careful out there,” To which Jimin acknowledges your words, turning to give you an adorably sheepish grin. Before his gaze flickered to the crimson-haired male standing beside you, his golden honey orbs hardened into a chilling stare, a wordless warning.  

“And they’re gone,” You say, heaving another breath, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. In your mind you were sure Jimin would be perfectly fine, he had been in the business for years, life-threatening situations were nothing new to him; he had faced and survived many of these situations since before you had arrived. So why would this be any different? He had survived many times before, he could surely do it again. Yet you still couldn’t help but worry your head off. The rational side of you knew he would be fine, but the irrational side of you ached to be by Jimin’s side to personally make sure he returned safe and sound. Not that you had the skill to actually pull that off.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? As long as Taehyung’s with him, nothing will happen to Jimin,” Sensing your inner turmoil, Hoseok offers words of cheerful reassurance. “Besides I think he’s just trying to protect you,” He was absolutely trying to protect you. If the scowl Jimin had given him was anything to go by. Hoseok was convinced that regardless of if you had prior experience in the field or not, Jimin would have most certainly made you stay behind. A cold shudder reverberated through Hoseok’s body as he recalled the withering glare Jimin had thrown at him. A silent warning, saying something along the lines of “anything happens to her and it’s on your head”.  

“Let’s go sit inside the car, yeah?” The scarlet-haired male gave you the best smile he could muster with Jimin’s warning still ringing in his head. Hoseok had seen the young don when he was angry - when he was truly angry. The palpable chaotic fury that rolled off the don moved in waves, crashing against all those who stood around him. The reason not many knew of the true extent of Jimin’s anger was that few ever survived his wrath. The silver-haired mafia boss was nothing to be trifled with on a good day, one could only imagine what he was like on a bad day.

Hoseok may have been close with the don, but you too held a special place in the mafia boss’ heart. Considering that factor, it would be near impossible to anticipate Jimin’s reaction should anything happen to you.  

“Aren’t you going to sit with me?” Your delicate voice brings the mafioso back from the flashbacks of an angry Jimin on catastrophic rampages.

Hoseok gulps down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth before answering you, “Uh, no, I need to be out here, just in case they need me,”

“Oh, okay,” You return, closing the car door as you did.

Just as you had settled into your seat, the sharp, deafening sound of gunfire reverberated through the area, the pops of gunshots so loud they were heard over five-hundred feet away.

For minutes you sat silently, (e/c) orbs thoughtlessly tracing the stitches and ridges of the leather seats. The popping and booming of gunfire becoming nothing more than white noise, a strange emptiness taking over you. No thoughts passed your mind, you could feel yourself sitting down, you could feel the sharp biting sensation of running your nails up and down the first knuckle of your forefinger. Eyes zeroing in on a single point on the plush seat, it was almost as if your body had been locked in place, you could feel but you could not move - not fully at least, but it was more of you didn’t want to move.

You weren’t sure just how long had passed in this frozen state, but you were broken from your spell-bound state when your ears started ringing from the silence of the area. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned against the back of the car seat, stretching your arms as a drawn-out yawn leaves your lips. Wiping away the tears that had pooled at the corners of your eyes, you rub circles on the pinna of your ear once the ringing from the quiet becomes too uncomfortable. ‘It’s too quiet,’  

Fully registering your thoughts, your eyes fly open, head swinging towards the car door where Hoseok had been standing against. The crimson-haired male had a similar look of confusion playing at his expression; head sawing from one direction to another, trying to make sense of the sudden quiet that had fallen on the previously bustling battlefield.  

“What’s going on here?” Quietly mumbling to yourself, you gently push open the car door. Hoseok jumped, his hands automatically reaching for the guns tucked away in his shoulder holsters when he heard the door behind him open, his attention having been concentrated on gauging the situation, deciding on whether to send you home or not.  

“Hoseok, what happened? Did they win?” Dangling your feet out of the car, you awkwardly ask, your proper communication skill having disappeared in that instance.

“Aish, (Y/n),” He sighs moving aside, allowing you space to step out of the car. “You surprised me.”

“So, are we done here?” Pushing the door closed, you ask the mafioso.

“I’m not sure,” He mutters, his hand coming to brush against his lips. “I haven’t heard anything from either team,”

A soft ‘oh’ leaves your lips as you watch the direction the two groups had left. ‘I don’t like this,’ The eerie stillness felt something akin to the calm before a storm. Anxiousness bubbled and churned in your chest, your palms getting clammy with your sweat when you suddenly felt your heart drop. A cold pricking sensation rapidly spreading throughout your body like vines of ice wrapping around your insides. Inhaling through your mouth while your mind flies in a thousand different directions trying to figure out why you felt that chill.  

‘Just as BBC Sherlock Holmes said, “Intuitions represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” So think! There has to be something!’ With your brain running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were forming, and even if they were forming you would forget them not a minute later as too many thoughts and scenarios all playing out in your head at once. Deciding your brain had once again failed you and that nothing comprehensible was coming out of it the next best thing would be to go into the building in person.  

“We should go up there,” You breathe out, which was also the only warning you gave the crimson-haired male before storming towards the abandoned building.

“No, we’re gonna stay he一 (Y/n)!” Hoseok gets no more than five words in before he is chasing after you as you scamper off in the direction of the building.

“Come on slowpoke!” You exhorted, daring him to catch up to you. A horrible idea really, seeing as he was faster than you and would probably catch you before you even reached your destination, but more than that you weren’t sure what you would do once inside the building.

Usually, you would never rush into unpredictable situations where you weren’t sure just what exactly could happen or situations you had an obvious disadvantage in, but here you were charging headfirst into a practical battlefield with little to no fighting experience. ‘So much for being rational,’ You scoffed to yourself, though you knew you were running straight into the belly of the beast, you could feel the light flutter of excitement, however today, you didn’t have to bite back an excited grin. The ominous chill you had felt earlier was still ever-present, sitting at the forefront of your mind. And you knew this somehow involved Jimin, which only caused your stomach to churn.  

“(Y/n), come back here!” All of the scarlet-haired mafiosos’ words fell to deaf ears. Not really, truthfully you were hearing every on of Hoseok’s words and you actually wanted to go back to the limo as there was a large possibility you would become a major hindrance to the people fighting, but something was happening, something bad, and you needed to be there to prevent it, only the question was, what was happening?  

“What?” A quiet whisper that leaves your lips as your head frantically sways one side to another taking in the sight, or rather a lack of one. There were no people, no cars, no weapons, nothing; just barren empty grounds. You slow down to a jog as you cautiously enter the building. What exactly was happening here?

BANG BANG

You flinch when the loud booms of gunfire reach you, your eardrums ringing as you slowed further into a stalk as you navigated through the desolated building. But a single question rang in your head louder than any gunshot had, if there were people inside then why wasn’t there anyone outside?    

As you quietly climb the staircase to the second floor, once again notice the lack of personale, enemy, or otherwise. The first floor was supposed to be just as heavily guarded was it not? So why was it deserted?

“(Y/n),” Hoseok growls, roughly tugging at your upper arm, you turn to look at him as his grip tightens. “We’re leaving now.” He barks, pulling you down the steps.

“Hoseok, Hoseok, come on,” Your attempt to call for his attention fails as he continues on his path with you in tow.

“What were you thinking!?” He chides you sternly. “What if something happened to you? What if you got hurt? What if they took you hostage too, huh?”

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You struggle against his stronghold, though your intent was to break free from his grasp, all you could do was struggle as Hoseok’s vice-like hold being too powerful for you to break. And thankfully he does. Halfway down the stairs he pauses and turns to you, though begrudgingly, he gives you the attention you requested.

“What?” The single word comes out like a quiet snarl.

“Guns are firing on the second floor, you can hear the fight going on up there. But the first floor is deserted, practically empty, why?”

“How about we go back to the car and then you can sit there and figure that out, yeah?” He says stiffly, turning to continue on his path.

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You plead, futile wrestling against the stronger male’s grip.

“I did and now we’re leaving,” Huffing, he turned raring to leave. 

“Look, we're already here,” You exclaim, jerking your arm towards you, though his hold doesn’t falter in the slightest, instead just moving with your actions.

“Not for long,” Scoffing, he simply ignores your struggles as he moves.

“Hoseok,” You call helplessly, which is again met with indifference. ‘Alright then, be that way,’ If Hoseok was going to be difficult then you would have to get creative. You needed a distraction, something that would loosen his hold. But what?

You desperately searched for something, anything you could use when a wicked smile danced on your lips as you found your distraction.

“Jimin watch out!” Hollering at the top of your lungs, you tear your arm from Hoseok’s grip, his hold loosening as he processed your words. Immediately you break for the second floor, skipping steps at a time, you launch around the corner and into the corridors.

“Jimin, where?一 (Y/n)!” The red head’s voice booms as he races after you. “Wha一 (Y/n)! Don’t!”

All sense of caution out the window you focus on getting as far into the building as you could before you were caught again, a terrible idea.

“(Y/n)! Get down!” You barely register Hoseok’s words before the next thing you knew the floor was getting larger. ‘Larger?’ The only thought you were able to make out as a series of ear-splitting gunshots echo throughout the floor. And this was much, much louder than the one you had heard earlier as if they were right beside you.

‘Oh, right,’ Perhaps they sounded as though they were beside you because they were right beside you.  

“My God! I thought you were supposed to be smart!” Hoseok shouts as he brings you closer to his body. Leaning against the wall next to the door, he returns fire, making sure to push you further against the wall to completely hide you from sight.

You wince when more gunfire follows, the already blasting noise of the shots reverberating against the wall of the abandoned building and becoming louder. ‘Earbuds,’ Quickly fishing out the noise-canceling earbuds and stuffing them at the entrance of your ear canals, effectively muffling most to all of the sounds.  

“What the fuck?!” Hoseok curses while with practiced movements his hands automatically remove the used cartridge, changing them with new ones. ‘How many of them are there?!’ Carefully aiming at one of the two men that had been shooting at you he manages to injure one of them. But this wasn’t right, the first and second floors should have been cleared by now, so why were they still here? Alive at that?

“Shit,” He mutters as he ducks back behind the wall as a few more shots follow. His head snaps to his side when he feels a hand tightly clutching at his arm. ‘Now's not the time for that,’

Heaving out a sigh he uses the hand he had been holding the gun with to cover yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze with the gun still in his hand. His eyes soften when he sees your expression, eyes wide, eyebrows knitted, and lips tugging downwards, worry, and concern written across your face. However, this expression was different from your (e/c) orbs pooled with guilt and anxiousness. And he knew the idiot of a woman sitting beside him was worried for him much more than herself.

“(Y/n), listen carefully,” He speaks gently. “Go to the first floor and hide, then when you can get back to the car and get out of here. Here are the keys一” Your eyes fall to the single key with a sunflower keychain he places in your palm. “一It doesn’t matter where you go, just get as far as you can. Then contact one of the guys, and they’ll come to pick you up wherever you are. But, if you can, go back to the mansion, okay?” He instructs, but this felt much more like a goodbye, which you absolutely did not like. He didn’t even ask if you could drive or not. Regardless, you were not leaving, not yet, not without Jimin... and everyone else of course.

“And don’t forget, Yoongi gave you those for a reason,” His gaze points to the two firearms strapped to your thighs. “If you think you need it, use it,”

“Why are you talking as if you’re not gonna be with me?”

“Because I’m not,”

“Like hell, you’re not,”

“Okay, you were right. Something’s going on here, all this,” He gestures to the space around you. “Doesn’t feel right. And it’s become too dangerous for you to be here. So, you need to go home”

“Then you’re coming with me,���

“No, I am not,” He sighs. “I need to stay here,”

“Why?” You ask petulantly.

“Look, if we both leave then they’ll follow us, so I need to stay here and distract them while you get the hell out of here. Then I’ll just meet up with Jimin and the others,”

“I’m not going, Hoseok,” not without him, the words are left unsaid and you’re not sure whether Hoseok understood the unheard words or not. But more than that, no matter how experienced he may have been, one man against - god knows how many enemies - were not the odds you were leaving him in - not that you were leaving.

“(Y/n), you need to go,” The male pleads, exasperation evident in his voice. “Please,” He adds.

Beats pass though not a moment goes by without the constant barrage of enemy fire, just how many of them were there?

“Fine, I’ll go,” Gruffly, you mutter. You didn’t like the idea of leaving Hoseok in such unfair odds but you also knew that this was perhaps the only opportunity you would get to find what your senses have been roaring at you to find. 

“Thank you,” Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Alright, when I say go, you go,”

You nod at his instructions, you face to the opposite direction Hoseok was, reading yourself to bolt away.  

“Alright go!” You launch off of your position, straight towards the staircases, and up to the third floor. Hoseok’s eyes widen as he watches you ascend to the third floor.  

“(Y/n)!一shit!” Ducking away from the gunshots his eyes fill with panic as he sees your figure disappear up the steps.

“Jimin’s gonna skin me alive,” He snarls before digging for his second gun and fully entering the room, pure rage and irritation filling his veins. ‘Oh, you’re gonna get it the minute I find you!’  

“I’m sorry Hoseok, but I need to do this,” Though in hindsight you never said you were going back to the car, you only said you would go, not where to.  

‘Okay,’ Crouching, you cautiously approached the closest room to the staircase, though making sure to divert a part of your awareness behind you.  

You could hear the muffled booms of gunshots as you made your way closer to the first door. Though judging by how faint the sounds were, you knew the shootout was happening farther up than where you were.

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧ 

However, you maintained your cautiousness as you slowly peeked into the room. And the sight that welcomed you was nothing less than bloodcurdling, it was like you were in the set of a horror movie as any normal human being seeing this would be retching their guts out. Not many people understand the true extent of damage a bullet can really do. They don’t realize that a single bullet has the ability to not only pierce tissue but also shatter bones and even dislocate limbs, especially when in close quarters.

Bringing your palm to cover your mouth, your eyes rove across the room, taking in the sight before you. Lifeless bodies were scattered across the floor. For some you could see the damage that had been done; one of the bodies had been shot somewhere on the jaw, and the whole jaw had been destroyed, as a matter of fact, not much of the jaw was left. You could see some portions of the cheeks though the tissues frayed and torn with only parts of the upper jaw remaining.

The other bodies were in similar conditions, holes blasted through the flesh and bones alike. Leaving ruptured cracks and gaps in the muscles, chunks of flesh litter around the bodies, blown off by the bullets that pierced the flesh. Large rust-colored splotches decorated all corners of the room, no area had been left untouched, almost as if carnage itself had washed over. Although the sheer amount of dried blood would have been enough to make the sight gruesome, in this case, the blood was only a cherry on top.  

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧

Tearing your eyes from the horrendous sight of the room, you quickly charge ahead, caution once again was thrown to the wind as you try to accept your new reality. This was your new reality, this was your life, this was the world you had entered.  

Your eyeballs burned as tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. When coming into this life, you thought you knew what you were getting into, what lied ahead of you, what would become of you. You thought you knew, and you did, you knew this would become a part of your life. But knowing that something is a part of your life and watching it become a part of your life, were two very different things.

It was true you had your strange bouts of excitement at the most inappropriate times, in places where you should be fearing for your life, or fearing for someone else's life. But that didn’t mean you weren’t scared, that you didn’t fear the worst, however, that also didn’t mean you fully understood the worst.

Back then, perhaps you didn’t, it was more likely that you didn’t. Sure, you knew people would get hurt, blood would be shed, lives would end. You knew that in your mind, you understood it in your conscious, but seeing the death, the hurt, the destruction was much different from simply knowing about it.  

And now that you truly understood the weight of death, you were scared - terrified. Perhaps it may have been much more bearable if you had only your own life to fear for, but you didn’t. You had eight other lives to worry about. Shelty, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk, and Jimin. Jimin.

You could feel a bitter-cold chill spread through your back, all the way to your feet as images of your dear friends in the same state as those people you had found earlier came to mind. Swallowing the lump in your throat you forcefully push away the image as far away as you could. Trying to forget the horrifying thought altogether, you shake your head clearing your mind, refocusing on the task at hand.

Breathing in a deep breath, then slowly exhaling, you steady yourself before moving on.

As carefully and as discreetly possible, you poke your head through the next door. And this room was in a similar condition as the first one. Tearing your eyes from the sight, you move on to the final door. However, the final room before the turn that continued onto a new corridor was without any traces of bloodshed. The room itself was old and worn down but bodies didn’t litter the floor or blood painted the walls.

Heaving out a breath you continue down to the end of the hallway before turning to the new corridor. And you could hear the muted booms of gunfire, though this time there were a lot fewer than before. And seeing as you were on the way to - what you were assuming - the only set staircase in the building, so there could only be one explanation to the reduced numbers of gunshots. People were dying. And you could only hope your friends were safe.  

Quietly, you unlatch the strap holding your tanfoglio witness in place, removing the gun from its holster, you point the nose of the gun towards the floor. Inhaling and exhaling deeply you stabilize any shaking or jittering. If you were going to use such a destructive weapon you couldn’t afford to make many mistakes.

Muzzle pointing downward, hands tightly clutching the grip, you move into the new hallway. Taking deliberate steps you stalk towards the first door in the hallway.  

Courtesy to the noise-canceling earbuds protecting your hearing you couldn’t hear much aside from muffled gunshots and muted shouting coming from the end of the long hallway. And because of those earbuds, you had almost missed the sounds of struggles coming from the first door.

Leaning against the wall along the door, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in that room. ‘What?’ Eyes the size of saucers, you watched motionlessly. The scene before you looked as though your nightmares had come to life.

Jimin, pinned to the wall by a tall, bulky man. Held to the wall by his throat, you couldn’t clearly see his face, but you could never mistake the silver platinum mop that was Jimin’s hair.  

“Why don’t you just die already!?” A cry so loud you could hear the hulking man with dark mocha brown hair through your earbuds.

“Jimin?” A faint whisper leaves your lips. The words are so soft that it goes completely unnoticed by the two men.

Seconds pass of you standing there, unmoved, mind blank as you thoughtlessly started. But then your body moves as if it knew what to do before you did. You don’t feel yourself moving however, as your eyes remained fixated on the figure before you, there was a gun held up in your peripheral vision. And it was your arms that held the gun. You don’t feel anything happen but you were leaning forward, arms ready to support the backlash of gunfire. For seconds the gun bounces with the rhythm of your breathing. Up and down and up and down, before slowly the movements steady and you finally regain control and feel of your body. And you know what you have to do.

‘Always aim for the center of the chest. Hitting something is better than nothing,’  You recall Yoongi’s words, reciting them like a prayer. ‘Once you have an aim, lock it. Watch your breathing...then,’

Breathing in through your nose, you click off the safety at the side of the gun, then holding the breath you took in its place before slowly letting it out, watching the minuscule movements that came with the action. Then at the trough of your breath, you squeeze the heavy trigger, bringing it all the way to its end.

BANG

Your solid stance efficiently absorbs the shock of the gunfire. Though the powerful blast of the gun ricochets throughout your body, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you feel your heart’s rapid thudding in your chest cavity.

Your eyelids flutter as you gather your bearings, readying yourself for another shot if there was the need. But as you watch red bloom across the white suit jacket the man wore, your shoulder slack, arms falling to once again point the mouth end of the gun to the ground.

Breaking into a fit of coughs, Jimin gasps for the oxygen his lungs had been deprived of. Taking in as much air as he could and too occupied with accommodating his body for the air it had been denied he had failed to notice just who exactly his savior was.

“Holy Fuck!” He chokes out as he uses the wall he was being held for support. “Ha, ha, Taehyung一 Have (Y/n) sent home,” Taking in another deep breath he continues. “Tell Hoseok to take her home. It’s too dangerous for her here,” He speaks, head down, steadying his breathing, he was still unaware of just who he was talking to.

“Jimin,” Your voice came much softer than you intended to, though it was enough to get the male’s attention. The silver-blond’s had snapped up to meet your quivering form.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaims, immediately walking over the corpse lying on the floor, swiftly pulling you into the room before poking his head out of the door, looking both ways. After determining the area was safe he turned on his heel to face you, his vice grip locked onto your wrist. “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!” Gently pushing you closer to the back he hisses.

“I told you to stay back didn’t I! What are you doing here? Where is Hoseok?” He releases a barrage of questions, but you stand there wordlessly, eyes tracing his visage. You had almost lost him, you had almost lost Jimin. If you hadn’t come up here, no one would have found him, you would have lost Jimin…  

The tears that were pooling your eyes earlier came crashing, cascading down your cheeks as a river of tears soon following the first few droplets, soft hiccups left your lips as you collapsed into Jimin’s arms, not caring the exterior of his suit and shirt were curated with dried blood. And pushing away the thought that you had just killed someone.

“(Y/n),” The don whispers softly, wrapping his own arms around your frame.

The tears slow once you feel Jimin’s comforting warmth surrounding you. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you take in the scent of Jimin’s cologne as you felt the calm thudding of his heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest. It takes much longer than you had expected it would take to convince yourself that Jimin was indeed alive and breathing, that he was alright, and that he was with you.

“Yo, boss一oh,” You entirely ignore Taehyung’s voice as a ginger sigh leaves your lips, tightening your hold around the male, nuzzling further into Jimin’s familiar warmth. Though you feel Jimin’s head turns towards the owner of the nonchalant voice.

“What’s she doing here?” The chestnut-haired male asks the mafia boss, only to receive silence as an answer. “(Y/n), what are you doing here?” Taehyung questions you directly, and this time his voice was a deal gentler than what it had been before. Though again his question was only met with silence.

“Is the floor cleared?” Jimin looks at the male standing by the door.

“Uh一 yeah, we secured the building, and uh一 Ji-Eun Duri was freed. And well, everyone gathered back in the room we found Ji-Eun, you were the only one not there… so I went out to look for you,” The younger awkwardly explained. “I’ll just head back, you guys come whenever you’re ready,” Taehyung quickly adds before scampering away.

“(Y/n),” Sighing softly, Jimin speaks. “We need to go,”

“Okay,” You mumble as you reluctantly let go of the male. Jimin tenderly takes your hand into his as he leads you back into the hallway and to - what you assumed was the bigger room.

“(Y/n)! There you are! Oh my god! Never ever pull something like that again! Do you hear me?!” Hoseok’s voice booms in the room as he comes in barreling towards you, though his intentions to chastise you fizzle out as he takes in your dazed form, clinging to Jimin’s arm.

“I’m sorry Hoseok, I promise I won’t do that again,” Your eyes flutter open and close, a small smile curling on your lips as you are brought back from your disoriented state.

“You better not,” Hoseok adds, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“I won’t,” Chuckling, you return. Your quiet laugh smoothly eased the tension that had built on Jimin’s shoulders, his expression reflecting the release of tension as his scowl morphs into a fond smile.  

“So you actually found everything I left, huh?” Duri’s crows from her position on the single chair that sat at the center of the room.

“I guess I did,” You hum.

“Well, good job then,” She gives somewhat half-hearted praise.

“Hah, thanks,” You huff out a playful scoff.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon calls and you hum at the call of your name. “About the thing, you asked me to do before we left,”

With the progression of Namjoon’s words, your mind instantly sobers, now wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings and situation. ‘You can contemplate life choices after we get home. For now, focus,’

“Right,” You reply. “What happened?”

“It was exactly as you said,” The syrup-brown haired male speaks grimly. “There was an attack at the safe house Jiyoung and his family were being kept in. As well as an attack at the hospital Gu Joon’s sister was being treated in,”

“I see,” You mumble, bringing your index finger to rub the skin under your lower lip.

“Wait. Wait, What?” Taehyung arms flail in the air, his eyes wide as he questions you.

“Wait, we did make it in time, didn’t we?” Ignoring the chestnut-haired male, you continue the conversation.

“Thanks to your warning we did,” Namjoon says. “Jiyoung and his family were moved as soon as we left for this location. So was Gu Joon’s sister,”

“That's good,” You breathe a sigh of relief, it would have become quite problematic if anything were to happen to those people.

“Oh? So the little fox able to see past Yeong’s trick?” Duri's eyes narrow as a smile curves onto her lips, amusement dripping from her onyx orbs. ‘So she knew?’ You thought, examining her overly entertained expression.

“I certainly hope so,” Grumbling, you tug Jimin closer to you, more so than you already were. ‘The tansies!’ The words jumped in your mind as you talked to the female, almost as if triggered by the presence of the older woman.

“Tell me, Ji-Eun, do you like flowers? Or have any interest in them?” You ask, tentatively waiting for the charcoal-haired woman to answer.

“Flowers?” She parrots, her eyes narrowing quizzically.  

“Yes, flowers,” You affirm. “I didn’t really take you for someone who would be all too interested in flowers, but the flowers on your desk were really pretty and very well taken care of,”

“What flowers?” Duri questions, your eyes narrowing at the woman as a sly grin twisting onto her lips.  

“You know, the pretty yellow flowers that were on your desk,” You describe tansies without mentioning the flower by name.

“I don’t have any flowers on my desk,” She answers, head tilting back as she crosses her legs. With the sly smirk the woman wore one would assume she was lying, but this Ji-Eun you were talking about. This woman could never be as simple as that.

‘So it was the Yeongs after all,’ You watched as his expression grew ever more amused as the time passed. You may have not known her for longer than a single night, but anyone could tell, she was not a woman so easily interested. She was a cautious woman, you knew that much. It was not possible she would just let herself be kidnapped, for someone who's been in the business for as long as she has, she was taken without much of a fight. From all the experience she had, one would think she had precautions taken for such events.  

Though there may have been a few explanations, at the moment the most probable one was that she let herself be caught. She did this on purpose, but then, she also let herself be found. Why? Why would she let herself be caught then leave a way for people to find her? Though it was more of she was allowed to be found and yet. She had this whole elaborate plan for people to find her. ‘An elaborate plan?’ Your eyes widen as you register your own thoughts.

‘Of course!’ You had assumed that her whole iCloud rescue plan had been created in advance, a just-in-case precaution - seeing as she didn’t carry any trackers - so the iCloud tracking method was near perfect for this situation.

But that was precisely it, it was perfect for this situation. And that is why the method is so flawed - as a matter of fact - the iCloud tracking may have been the most flawed tracking method of all. For one, if the mobile phone had been switched off the computer wouldn’t have been able to track it. And what if her battery had run out? What if they had taken her farther and possibly out of the tracking radius? What if they had destroyed her phone? Or taken it? Like any serious kidnappers would. There were too many uncontrollable variables and not enough information. Simply put there were too many conditions to be met for the plan to work successfully.

And thus the conclusion, she knew she was getting kidnapped and that her kidnapping was nothing more than a distraction for something else. It was a distraction for the Yeongs to be able to regain control over their former operatives or possibly even revenge against them for betraying the Yeongs.

‘But was that really it?’ Revenge against the former members? Did the Yeongs even have the resources for something so petty? But then, why would someone smart enough to make a two prompt plan - infiltrating Bangtan’s ranks then using a ceasefire signing and attack to send Jiyoung into the fray - do something so brash and unnecessary as taking revenge when they had already suffered heavy losses.

“Unless,” too absorbed in your own thoughts, your mouth moves before your brain does.

“What?” Hoseok questions, unsure of what you were saying.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” A sheepish grin curls onto your lips as you reassure the men around you. The redhead eyes you doubtfully, but drops the subject nonetheless. Sighing in relief, your drifts from the male to land on the awfully entertained expression dancing on Duri’s face, her onyx orbs taunting you as she watched you reach the somewhat guided conclusion.

The many puzzle pieces were coming together, the jigsaws were fitting into their places. Only for you to realize the puzzle you had just solved was nothing more than a piece in a larger whole.

“Right, so how about we postpone that meeting for another time and call it a day for today,” Soomin quips, a hand on her hip - she tries her best to maintain a blank expression, however, an exhausted scowl breaks through her usually well-crafted mask.

“We can hold the meeting five days from Wednesday,” Duri says, massaging her wrists as she stood from the chair she was most likely bound to. “I’ll send your right hand the exact date.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Jimin looks to the three core members present, a silent command lying in his gaze. Quickly recognizing the order the men swiftly move into action. Namjoon turns away, fishing out his cell-phone and calling god knows who; while Taehyung moves to talk to - who you were guessing - the many Bangtan operatives that were standing to the side. Hoseok on the other hand, entirely excuses himself from the group, jogging down the hallway you had come from - probably to get the car ready, though you weren’t too sure just what exactly he had planned to do as you had the keys to the car.

“Five days from Wednesday then,” Jimin bids the two women goodbye as he places a hand on your back, gently nudging you towards the same way you had entered form.

You weren’t sure just how long the whole ordeal had actually taken, but the sharp orange light that covered the grounds told you it was much longer than what you had may have felt.

The rest of the daylight passed in a blur as there was much to do. Many of Bangtan’s members were injured, few fatally so. Those who were gravely wounded were rushed to the gang’s official doctor, but most of the operatives only had minor injuries: cuts, scratches, bruises, easily treatable wounds. And though it wasn’t part of your original job description, your inner doctor wouldn’t let those injured go without cleaning and dressing their wounds.

That was where the rest of your day had gone. Cleaning and dressing wounds of the twenty or so operatives that had participated in the day’s rescue mission. However, with only you on the job, getting to everyone - quickly - would have been nearly impossible. Fortunately, Jin had joined you in your endeavors, putting the skills you had taught him to use. And going by the speed you were getting through people, it was almost as if two long term professionals were on the case. A pleasant surprise really, you had assumed Jin would fumble with the bandages of the first few patients - a sound assumption, seeing as Jin didn’t have official training before working with you - but you were proven very wrong as the older male swiftly and deftly handled the bandages, efficiently treating one patient after another. And thanks to that great efficiency, you were done with everyone long before the moon had reached its peak. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if the day’s patients were used as exercise tools to improve the male’s skills.  

A soft chuckle left your lips as you stepped into the luxurious waterfall shower, where the shower head was attached to the ceiling. The controls of which were actually quite easy to operate; there was a knob for hot water and a knob for cold, the only problem was - they were both identical to each other… and the shower head was right over the controls as well. So you did the only thing any sane person would do, you turned both knobs to where you thought would be the right temperature, then ran like hell to the other corner of the shower space.

You sighed as the hot water soothed your tense muscles. Looking up, you let the water splash you face, and though the temperature of the water may have been a tad too hot for your face, that was the only thing you could do to distract yourself from the feeling in your chest, or rather the lack of feeling. The warm liquid cascaded down your body as you motionlessly stood under the falling water.

‘Who am I kidding?’ Brining a palm up to cover your eyes, before lowering it, you gaze falling onto the limb. This was the hand you used to pull the trigger, this was the hand you used to end a life. But it doesn’t shake, it doesn’t quiver, it doesn’t tremble now and didn’t tremble then. You remembered it, you remembered everything - vividly - like a film in HD.

How you held up the gun, how you aimed, how your body moved, everything. Though you also recall not feeling nothing.

No, that wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all. You did feel it, you felt every bit of it. From raising the gun to pulling the trigger, you felt it all. Your body wasn’t moving on its own, it was you, you were the one in control, everything that happened was what you did. Then why did you think your body was moving of its own accord?

A question you were doing everything possible to avoid, a question you didn’t want to think about, a question you already knew the answer to. And you knew, part of the reason you insisted on treating the wounds of those injured was so you had something else to focus on, something to distract you, something you could use as an excuse to not think.

‘Maybe I am heartless,’ You thought as you used a fluffy white towel to dry your body, quickly slipping on a pair of penguin shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you shuffle out your door towards your last patient of the day.  

Softly knocking on the double doors, you wait for Jimin to allow you in. Though minutes passed not a sound came from the room. ‘Is Jimin not in?’

“I’m coming in,” You announce as you hesitantly twist the golden door handle, poking your head through the crack you had opened. And the sight that welcomed you, had to be one of your favorite scenes you had ever seen.

There he was - a ferocious mafia boss - sitting on his bed - running his fingers through the fur of Shelty’s fluffy head on his lap as he read to your seventy-pound puppy dog.

“Well hello, you two,” You playfully greet the pair as you take your usual route to the first-aid box.

“Hey,” Jimin returns, closing the book in his hand, he shifts farther into the bed, making room for you when you return.

“You didn’t come by earlier,” You mention, as Jimin - in fact - hadn’t shown up to the medical room for an injury check. And coincidentally enough happens to be the only one of the four that you had yet to examine. Granted, you did somewhat corner the other three into an examination.

“Were you injured?” You ask, easing your way back to the bed - tentatively sitting beside the male.

“No,” The silver-blond answers shortly.

“Don’t lie to me,” You huff

“I’m not,” Removing his shirt over his head, the boss pouts.

“Uh-huh,” Nodding in mock agreement, you eye the small cuts and scratches littering his forearm.

A peaceful silence falls as you wordlessly apply antibiotic ointment to the healing wound. And even though you had repeated this routine nearly every night since your arrival, skipping removing the bandages still leaves an odd discomfort. It felt as if you had missed a step when in reality it was just the night bandaging happened after Jimin’s before bed shower and the old bandages were removed before he would shower.

Gently wrapping the fresh, clean gauze around the boss’ shoulder your mind drifts as your hands move with practiced ease. The events of the morning felt almost as if it were part of the distant past, not something that occurred just hours ago. The kidnapping, Duri’s clues, her clues actually leading you to her, the tansies, the attack on the two former Yeong operatives, you little epiphany, you killing someone. So much happened in the span of fewer than twelve hours. Your movements slowed as your thoughts drowned your consciousness. A familiar melancholy settling in your chest once again.

“(Y/n),” Jimin’s voice is soft as he calls for your attention.

“Huh? what?” You snap from your thoughts with a heavy sigh as you look to the silver-blonde in question. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing,” He pauses. “It’s just, you were spacing out,”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You apologize, moving on to the smaller cuts and scratches. “It’s gonna sting, okay?” Softly, you warn the male, bringing an alcohol pad to his forearm. For minor injuries, you used band-aids to cover them up.  

You fall into another silence as you individually place each band-aid on each scratch. While reflecting on the events of the day, you fail to notice the stiffness of this silence. It was unlike when you enjoyed the silence and simply basked in each other's presence. This was a familiar silence, a silence that had fallen once before. And Jimin was quick to recognize.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles, gently taking your hand into his then pulling you into him. “I never really thanked you for saving me, did I?” He whispers, rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back.

“Thank you, (Y/n),” The silver-blond murmurs in your ear, placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Jimin,” You mutter into his bare chest, turning your body to comfortably rest against the male. “It’s happening again.”

“(Y/n), you did what you had to do,” The hold around your body tightens as he speaks.

“I felt nothing, I feel nothing. Even as I pulled that trigger there was nothing. All I knew was I had to do it, but there was no reluctance, no hesitance, I wasn’t scared,” You barely make out as your throat constricts, eyes prickling with tears that threaten to fall at any given moment. A hollowing feeling burning in your ribcage.

“But that’s exactly what scares me,” You lift yourself from his chest just enough to meet Jimin’s honey-brown orbs. “It scares me I could kill someone so easily, then move on even easier,” Your tear ducts run loose as droplets of salty liquid freefall down your cheeks.  

“Once I even thought my body was moving on its own,” You scoff at your own miserable excuses. “But it wasn’t, it was me. I was moving my body - I raised the gun - I pulled the trigger, I killed the man.” Your voice comes out much stabler than you had expected.

“You know, I think the only reason I thought my body was moving on its own was that I was trying to justify my feelings. I was trying to justify not feeling anything as I killed a man.” Your voice elevated as you spoke, getting louder and louder as the sentence went on.

“Who does that?!” You exclaim, hand moving wildly, exaggerating your words. Jimin opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off - continuing on your tangent.

“And I know I said that I would take things as they came, but I killed someone. I ended a life with my own two hands. I should feel something shouldn’t I?! Remorse? Pain? Guilt? Something? Anything? But I don’t. And that’s terrifying, but maybe even that maybe I’m just tricking myself into thinking I’m scared, maybe I’m not even scared!” Your voice rises as your words bumble together into barely coherent blubbers.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re okay,” He shushes you, pulling you back into his embrace, tenderly running his fingers through your locks. The feeling of his digits combing through your hair instantly soothing you.

“It’s alright, there is nothing to justify,” He speaks slowly, calmly. “You did what you had to do to protect your own,”  

“That’s not it! I killed someone just hours ago and I just moved on like it was nothing!” You try to convey your thoughts, but your thoughts were getting louder and muddling as time went on.

“(Y/n),” Jimin murmurs.

“Just what kind of monster am I,” You rest your forehead against Jimin’s bare chest, all your bravado draining from your body as tears continue to run down your flushed cheeks.  

“(Y/n),” All he could do was try his best to comfort you and hope you snap out of your current mindset. Jimin wasn’t all too sure how to react when you reprimanded yourself for something those in the mafia community were trained and schooled to do. The first kill is never light, most aren’t even able to pull the trigger, while some retch their guts out once they do. He had been carefully observing your behavior and temperament from the moment he realized you had just had your first kill. He was prepared for you to hurl your guts out the moment you saw the dead body, or even later, thinking it may have been a delayed reaction. And yet there was nothing, especially after you had regrouped with everyone else. He could see you were distracted, but quickly regained composure then almost instantly returned to your work. As you were standing, he could practically see the wheels in your head-turning. And if there were ever a ranking or a test for newcomers, you would have passed with flying colors. Yet you couldn’t see how useful and quite honestly necessary abilities you had.  

Eventually, as it was made clear you would be spending the night in Jimin’s room - he fully pulled onto his lap. Continuing to rub circles on your back as you cried.

“I don’t know what to do,” After what felt like hours of bawling your eyes out, a quiet whimper left your lips as the exhaustion of the day and the crying hit you like a freight train.

“Just keep going as you are and you’ll be fine,” Jimin whispers next to your ear, his warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Whas that supposed to mean?” A muted whine resounds in your chest at the feeling, you bury your head into Jimin’s neck, nuzzling into his skin as you basked in his warmth. The strong pull of sleep swamped you as the pleasant heat of Jimin’s body and his comforting touch ease you into sleep’s embrace. And at that moment, it was just a tad too tempting to resist.

“Goodnight (Y/n),”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

A quick taglist! 

I saw your message and I felt like I should lol hope you don’t mind. Thank you for reading! Lots of love! 💜

@crookedstarlitnight​

Comment or send in an ask if you would like to be tagged too!

[joonkorre]

@drarrymicrofic prompt: remake

not gonna say much on this. yall should find out what's going on yourselves :D. ao3

“What do you think, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco doesn’t need to think; he’s done enough of that in the past two months, since the day he opened his front door to see the strange woman’s sharp smile. But he thinks anyway, one last time before he answers.

He’d have to leave the wizarding world behind. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that drastic. However, if he doesn’t want his frequent disappearances to catch the Ministry’s attention, then it’s best to withdraw into the Muggle world altogether, as far from its control as possible. Mother has Aunt Andy, Teddy, and friends from her book club now, she’ll be fine with him visiting only a few days each year.

Other than that, there are no downsides. He has nothing to lose except maybe his life somewhere down the line, but everybody dies at some point, don’t they?

He lifts his gaze to the buzzing light on the ceiling, its shine cold and apathetic. To the mahogany bookcase, filled with tomes upon tomes full of ancient rites and rituals, of creatures considered ‘cryptid’ even to wizardkind. To the bookend that is shaped like a crow, which flaps its wings when its beak is tapped five times, unlocking the hidden safe behind the bookcase. The safe that stores all the actual research and data he’s collected, jealously and fearfully hoarded.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough. He knows enough to be aware that the lore Pansy snorted at when he first mentioned them, the creatures Mother dismissed as another of her bored rich son’s new obsessions, are the same ones Unspeakable Granger narrowed her eyes at when she walked past his table in the canteen and caught a glimpse of his notes. He had a feeling then that he shouldn’t even make any indication that he was interested in these things, which was proven to be correct when Ministry personnel started loitering outside his office more after that day.

He doesn’t know everything, but he knows his findings are not safe in anyone’s hands but his. The Ministry still repeats its tendency to care more about itself than the common people. The Department of Mystery, practically its own entity due to how even the Minister is forbidden from accessing most of its files, has motivations he can’t comprehend, which means motivations he can’t predict. There is no way to know if his colleagues are truly interested in “that old wife’s tale, that Bigfoot, Cthulhu shite Malfoy’s into” or will report him to those who know how to deal with him, to Unspeakable Granger, to the Department of Mysteries. His findings are not safe in anyone’s hand but his.

But if he says ‘yes,’ they are.

Draco dips his quill in the ink bottle the woman—“Dr. Stewart,” she’s introduced, calm and sure—provided him and signs his name on the contract and its related documents. No hint of anything other than indifference is shown on her face, and he wonders how many others before him has she recruited.

Once his thumbprint has been collected, the last step of the process, he Vanishes the ink on his finger. Dr. Stewart raises a brow but says nothing more. She stands up, holding out a hand.

“Welcome, Dr. Malfoy. The SCP Foundation is glad to have you with us.”

Shaking her hand, Draco feels something slide into place at his new title. He smiles politely, heart thundering in his chest.

“Have you worked with wizards before, Dr. Stewart?” Draco asks as he starts packing the valuables at his work desk into his briefcase. Dr. Steward has come to the Ministry by Floo, and though she seemed a bit disconcerted after stepping out of the Ministry Public Floo #13, she didn’t hesitate to follow him to his office. Thus, seeing her reaction to a simple Vanishing spell has certainly been a bit strange.

Dr. Steward gathers the documents to secure in a folder.

“My colleagues have—some of them have Muggleborn and Halfblood relatives—but not me personally,” she answers. “My apologies, I still need to get used to seeing magic in… this way. Ironically, we have more luck with magic users from other dimensions than from our own, especially with what happened in recent history.”

The Second Wizarding War ended barely a decade ago. Its victims, both people and nature, still bleed. “I can see why you aren’t very keen on interacting with us up-close these days,” Draco nods, careful.

“Precisely,” Dr. Stewart says. “So, believe it when I say you’re the exception.”

Draco stiffens. “Thank you. I’m sorry, it’s still a bit hard to, ah, believe that.”

“You are the exception,” she says. “We need professionals in the occult, especially those who dabbled in the Dark Arts along with other types of magic. Not many wizards of your kind in Great Britain remember the Original Gods and Old Magic, but you have that link, whether it be through honest religious belief or just intensive research.”

She crosses her legs. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while, Dr. Malfoy. We need someone who’s willing to look for the oddity in the mundane, and when our people heard rumours of the infamous Malfoy heir having a—highly accurate, by the way—fixation on conspiracy theories and cryptozoology, visiting various parts of the world in pursuit of those ‘tall tales,’ we knew we need your intellect.”

Draco doesn’t quite know what to say. He was sure everybody thought him unhinged; even Luna seemed off around him these days instead of enthusiastically rallying after his theories like she usually would, gradually gravitating toward Granger whenever they’re in the same room.

“Our goals are different; the SCP Foundation wants to keep humanity safe and alive, you want knowledge and just knowledge. But I hope you find yourself in your element while working with us, finally having access to all the information you’ve been working so hard to find out.”

She tilts her head just so, and Draco can tell she knows he likes what he’s hearing. His thirst consumes him, makes him risk, makes him sin. He has to go insane to stay sane. Despite the small price of most likely dying from working with dangerous anomalies at the Foundation no matter how pretty Dr. Stewart advertises it, every cell in his body sings at the chance to know what is lurking beyond the folds of reality.

He thinks of Mother, of Aunt Andy, of little Teddy, of Pansy, of Blaise. The vision of them killed, maimed, snapped from existence because he didn’t do anything to help makes his gut twist, his throat parched. He’d kill himself from the guilt, a well-casted Sectumsempra. He decides.

His goal is no different than the Foundation’s from now on, and he has no qualms about that. With this opportunity, he is free at last, free to do the work he knows is important, to help and change without outside interference.

He is reborn.

Draco’s back straightens, and he moves his wand this way and that, orchestrating a cacophony of tomes and devices to levitate from the heavy bookshelves to the duffle bag he brought along.

“Dr. Malfoy, did I not tell you where you’ll be stationed?”

Draco halts the objects’ action mid-air, staring at Dr. Stewart.

“I was under the impression that I am to be working at Site-91,” he says, “in Yorkshire?”

“As I thought, I forgot something,” Dr. Stewart sighs, the first sign of human imperfection leaking through. She searches through her briefcase, long nails clicking through the files. “Sit down, please, and there’s no need to pack up your belongings.”

Sending the objects back to their original places, Draco takes his seat, brows furrowed. He toys with his wand, a tick he hasn’t been able to be rid of ever since Potter’s returned his wand after years of what seemed to be perpetual emptiness without it.

“There we go,” Dr. Stewart says and flips open a thick, stapled stack of paper. “You are to stay here for the duration of your first assignment. Count yourself lucky, starting work right away.”

“Stay here? But—”

“There is an anomalous individual working here,” she says, hard lines etched on her face. “You will act like you’ve not changed your career and continue to ‘work’ in the Ministry. Because of your proximity, we expect you to gather as much information as possible about him. You can use any method, as long as you stay alive and well to report back to us and receive your salary. Not to worry, we will assist you as this individual is, like most of what we deal with, deadly when pushed.”

She slides the file toward him and settles back against her chair. Draco is admittedly no less surprised than before.

“Wake up and get ready by 6 AM this Saturday, for we’ll come to get you at your house and go to Site-91. There are other information and protocols you need to know, and you’ll also get the equipment suited for this assignment,” Dr. Stewart adds.

Draco has a few questions, but from the way she ends with a close-mouthed smile, he reckons any at all would be regarded as idiotic. Well, at least she told him something.

With a slight sigh, he opens the file. The peculiar layouts and code words fly past him—he’d have to ask for a manual of some kind, Muggle science-y terminology has never been his best suit. However.

“What,” he breathes, leaning close to the file, eyes wide, “what is he—what is—”

However, there are two words he can’t mistake, no matter how sleep-deprived he is or how blind. A name, in fact.

“What is Harry Potter doing in this file?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Dr. Stewart asks, lacing her fingers on her lap. “Think. His lifelong exposure with the Dark Arts and artifacts, how volatile and explosive his power is, and most importantly, how dangerous he is even to the brightest magic users. There’s a reason why we don’t meddle with your kind. You already have the means available to contain certain anomalies, but Potter is different, and we have to step in this time.”

Draco stares at her, then at the name in the file, at the picture attached, slack-jawed.

“The oddity in the mundane, Dr. Malfoy,” Dr. Stewart leans forward, a knowing look on her face. Draco's legs feel like wooden trunks, sunken into the ground. "Get used to it, and get focused. Because if left unchecked, Harry Potter might very well get powerful enough to become a reality bender."

[peter-parkers-passport]

Flower Child (Peter Parker x ofc)

Chapter 11: Just a Nobody

I’m really sorry I haven’t been consistent in updating on this platform, I think I’ll just mass update on here and catch up to speed? Idk, it’s a lot and again, I’m sorry. I’m trying to find inspiration to write!

warnings: Peter being rude, angst, depictions of anxiety… sorry 😬, mentions of death

The pair of them didn’t leave the greenhouse until midnight that night. Papers had been scattered around a workbench in the greenhouse under a single lamplight, covered in formulas that had been scratched and edited past legibility. Lila and Peter made an incredible team, much to their surprise, and within just a few short hours, a new webbing formula had been made.

Peter also walked her home, despite Lila reassuring him that he didn’t have to. He merely brushed off her attempts and bid her goodnight at her door. And despite the crazy events, like her almost dying, she went to bed with a smile on her face. Her crush was a superhero, how could she not?

When she went to school the next day, Lila was tired but cheerful. A light kind of air sat in her chest and put her in a good mood, even with the whispers of what happened the day before following her to her locker. She supposed the feeling of falling in an elevator made things like school more enjoyable since they were a part of living, but she attributed her happiness mostly to the two boys who walked quickly over to her locker as soon as they saw her.

“Hey, Lila,” Peter said, lips twitching in a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys, what’s-?”

“So you know?” Both Lila and Peter looked to Ned, whose expression was unreadable. “About-“ His voice lowered into a whisper, “-Peter’s sticky situation?”

A patch of red grew on the boy in question’s face, and he sent an exasperated stare his friend’s way. “Dude, come on, at least think of a better code name.”

“So you know?” Ned asked Lila again, to which she nodded apprehensively. Her eyes flickered to Peter, who offered an apologetic shrug. When she looked back to Ned again, he looked relieved. “Finally. I’ve really needed this, I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it a secret-“

“Ned,” Peter said, “You found out last week.”

“- I thought I was gonna blow it, but I didn’t. And now I can talk to you about how totally amazing this is.” Ned inhaled deeply, launching into a slew of questions. “So how did you know it was him? Are you psychic? Did you psychically connect to Peter, and that’s how he saved your life? Do you have, like, a spider-link now?”

“N-No, it wasn’t anything like that,” Lila answered him, Peter giving her a thankful look that she interrupted Ned’s questioning. She tucked her hair behind her ear before continuing, “Peter disappearing the night before, y-you having the Ch-Chitauri core, and - and the Stark Internship. Just… a lot of it d-didn’t add up.” Lila looked around them to see Michelle walk through the front doors. “Look, I’d b-better go before MJ gets suspicious but I’ll see you guys for fourth.”

Peter and Ned said their goodbyes while Lila walked down the hallway to her friend. Before she could reach MJ, however, Lila was stopped by Betty Brant, who had a fiercely determined look on her face. “Lila,” she practically addressed, her tone was so formal.

“B-Betty,” Lila swallowed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Wh-What’s up?”

“Midtown is running a story on the survivors of the almost-tragic Washington Monument scare yesterday. I need to know that you’ll be available for lunch to answer a few questions with the rest of your team. I would do it now, but I don’t have my co-host.” The last sentence ended with a note of bitterness, and Lila tilted her head in concern.

“Oh n-no, where’s - where’s Jason?”

Betty rolled her eyes, “His mom called him out of first period for some stupid dentist appointment and wouldn’t cancel. I’ve told him time and time again that his mom doesn’t understand how brutally competitive journalism can get in the age of technology.” Her eyes narrowed at the apparently sour thought. “Like, she doesn’t even know how embarrassing it was to see Principal Morita’s fall after the floors were waxed with new wax on Flash’s Snapchat story first. That should’ve been our story, but no, Jason had strep throat.” Her tone grew mocking and she put air quotes around “strep throat”. There was a beat of silence, and then, “Anyways, so I’ll see you at lunch?”

At this point, Lila had been daydreaming of a way to get out of the heated one-sided argument. “Sure.”

Satisfied, Betty nodded. “Good. And don’t talk to anyone else about what happened.” She strode away, leaving Lila feeling slightly confused as she walked over to where MJ was standing, watching the whole interaction.

*****

It didn’t go unnoticed that Lila was becoming fast friends with Peter and Ned. Soon enough, in the span of the next two days, they popped up nearly everywhere in her daily life. For some, it was a welcome addition to Lila’s friend count (now up to three). For others, it was a topic of slight confusion.

“I’m not, like, unhappy for you or anything,” Sophie commented one evening in the flower shop. She was watching Peter and Ned leave through the front doors, the cooler air from the outside falling at their feet. “I just didn’t know you were so close.”

Lila and the boys had just brought over some chemicals they’d nicked from school, and finally perfected the stronger webbing for Peter. It was all discreetly put away in a box tucked underneath spare gardening supplies. The box in question was placed in a corner, out of sight and hopefully out of anyone else’s minds that weren’t Peter’s, Lila’s, or Ned’s.

The door had shut by the time Lila turned back to Sophie, a light blush on her cheeks. “Falling in an e-elevator is a surprisingly easy way to m-make friends.” The flicker of suspicion in Sophie’s eyes disappeared almost immediately at Lila’s reply, and for a moment, Lila had the gut-twisting sensation of guilt. It was confusing: she wasn’t actually lying to Sophie, but she was hiding the truth. Plummeting to her death with Ned by her side did craft a strong foundation of friendship at a remarkably fast rate. And being one of about four people who knew Peter’s secret identity also warranted spending more time together than what was considered normal. Only, she couldn’t tell anyone that last part.

Lila hated that her cover story for spending time around the two boys was her near-death experience, but even she couldn’t deny its effectiveness. Sophie stopped asking questions after her comment, and soon started addressing them with the same familiarity as she would Michelle or her dad.

Michelle, whose skepticism came as easy as breathing, wasn’t as easy to persuade. MJ knew Ned was in the elevator with Lila, and her interest in them hanging out didn’t extend farther than a simple statement of, “Ned needs to download the free VPNs I sent you. I don’t want my network data accidentally getting monitored by the government because he’s using the WiFi at your shop.” Which was fine with Lila, Ned would be one less thing to worry about in regards to her most perceptive friend.

However, with Ned deemed not a problem, MJ’s wariness was focused on Peter. If she thought he was sketchy before, it was nothing compared to how she felt after he started to hang out with Lila. Michelle wasn’t much for holding a conversation with people she didn’t know, but the times where she did talk to Peter, it almost always was staged as interrogation. Lila felt sorry for Peter, for she knew MJ was intimidating, and too smart for her own good. She also knew that Michelle’s intention was a heavily-veiled protectiveness for her friend.

Ted Landry seemed to be the only person in Lila’s life who wasn’t suspicious of her new friends. In fact, he was completely clueless. Peter being around Lila more was merely a correlation to him personally checking on her the night she got back from D.C. The worst part was that Ted told Lila that the reason Peter was starting to be around her so much was because he had a crush on her.

“It just seems kind of obvious,” Ted said, ignoring the choking noises Lila emitted after hearing her dad’s thoughts. He merely patted her on the back as she tried to dislodge the granola that she accidentally sent down the wrong pipe. “I practically did the same thing with your mom, we became inseparable.”

Lila wished above all that her dad’s thoughts were the truth. But the brief look in Peter’s eyes that appeared whenever Liz walked by the three of them in the school’s hallways sent those thoughts crawling on all fours to the back of her mind.

*****

Over the next few days, Lila grew privy to the information Peter was gathering over the last week as Spider-Man. It all started with the bank robbers that accidentally decimated Delmar’s bodega, which Lila learned were capable of doing so with the acquisition of illegal weapons. Weapons that happened to have access to alien technology.

Peter and Ned explained that someone was stealing alien technology and fashioning weapons to distribute on the black market. Their target was Damage Control, whose existence was to be the clean-up crew of the Avengers.

“For lack of a better term,” Peter went on, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hand. That Wednesday evening, Peter had Ned and Lila over after he had perused the streets of Queens as Spider-Man. It was then the two boys filled Lila in on their mission. “But basically this department’s been confiscating all the alien tech and Ultron mess for the past eight years. And the helicarriers in Washington? They’re still working on that stuff.”

“And this guy in the wingsuit… the birdman?” Lila asked, trying to keep up with the nearly unbelievable tale.

A spark emitting from one of Peter’s web shooters had him diving back with his screwdriver. Ned, meanwhile, took the reigns. “We’re pretty sure he’s their leader. But they’ve got this stuff nearly on lockdown. Peter figures he must’ve been doing it from the beginning.”

Lila looked back over to Peter, “Do you know who he is? O-Or any kind of clue?”

The web shooter made a clicking noise that seemed to satisfy Peter. He turned away from his desk and set his eyes back on Lila. Shaking his head, he answered, “No, I’ve got no idea. And he got away with some of the stuff that was in the Damage Control trucks. Best guess, I’ll just have to catch them when they’re out selling this stuff again.” He paused, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. And after a moment, he added as an afterthought, “You didn’t happen to catch what Puth assigned for homework, did you? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Peter, dinner’s on the table - Lila!” May poked her head inside Peter’s door. Lila whipped her head around to see her large grin, and heard Peter hastily slam his desk drawer shut to hide his web shooters. “I had no idea you were here!”

“Hi, May,” Lila smiled, a pale pink dusting her cheeks. “H-How are things?”

“Finer than wine, honey. I feel so bad, I would’ve made more food if I’d’ve known you guys were going to be here.” Her lips pursed briefly as an afterthought came to mind. “Actually, it might be better if you guys hit the road.”

Peter stared at his aunt exasperatedly, “Oh, c’mon May-“

“Uh-uh,” her expression was suddenly stern when her eyes fell on him, “If you’re going to ditch class, then you’re not going to have friends over.” She softened her gaze when she moved back over to Lila and Ned. “You guys need a ride home?”

Lila grabbed her backpack, eyeing Peter and feeling confused. Why would he ditch class? Peter’s eyes met hers before answering her with a jerk of the head to his desk, where the web shooters lay hidden.

“No,” Lila finally answered, brushing off Peter’s answer with a wave of dismay. “N-No, thanks. My neighborhood’s just f-five blocks over.”

*****

Betty Brant released her story on Thursday morning. Apparently Jason actually did have a pretty awful tooth infection, and wasn’t able to co-anchor her story until then. When Lila walked into school, the conversation, which had just begun to die down, picked right back up, and attention was back on the academic decathlon.

Everyone at Midtown pretty much knew of Lila and her inability to confidently socialize with peers, but that didn’t stop them from pointing at her while poorly concealing whispers. So she was left to navigate the crowded hallways alone, doing her best to ignore the eyes that followed her and the sounds of the news story reporting on her brush with death. One thing she did manage to catch was Jason saying, “Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, thanks to Spider-Man. Up next, the Spider mania is sweeping the school, how can you show your Spider spirit?”

And Jason wasn’t wrong. The talk of Spider-Man was re-invigorated at the school news’ story, and if they weren’t talking about the decathlon team, they were talking about Spider-Man. Some people wore shirts they bought from street vendors, and talked about how amazing he was. Flash was the biggest proponent of this, boasting about how Spider-Man made a harrowing rescue, pulling Flash out of harm’s way just in time, and giving him a fist bump right afterwards. All of which was untrue, and Charles and Abraham we’re glad to remind everyone around Flash of the fact.

Lila felt a deep sense of pride as she made her way down the stairs and past the mural. She knew Peter must’ve been at school, and hearing all of the positive thoughts everyone had on his secret identity. She could feel it in the air: pride. A sense of pride that one of New York’s own was a hero, a champion of Queens. Even Lila herself felt that pride, but for other reasons entirely.

She ran into Ned first, who was beaming at the television screen in the corner of the hall. The two of them shared a knowing smile, and the pair launched into a quiet conversation about it in the otherwise loud hallways. Ned spotted Peter ahead of the two of them, and pushed around the students in his way. He and Lila met Peter at the foot of the stairs, all three grinning from ear to ear.

“Dude, dude, dude, what is it like being famous when no one knows it’s you?” Ned asked.

Rather modestly, Peter smiled and gripped the straps of his backpack. “It’s crazy,” he whispered, looking around to make sure other people weren’t listening.

“Crazy,” Ned repeated, almost in awe. “Should we tell everyone?”

Peter still smiled, but his head tilted a little in confusion, “No.”

“Should I tell everyone?”

“No, dude, that’s not a good idea.”

Ned looked to Lila, “Lila could tell everyone.”

“I-I would not,” Lila said, briefly panicked. She felt better seeing Peter let out a breathy laugh. “Really, I w-wouldn’t do it.”

Ned sighed, his hopes dashed. “Well, come on, we’re gonna be late to class.”

Lila was prepared to bid them goodbye, since their classes were on opposite sides of the hallway, but Peter didn’t follow Ned. “I’m not going to class.”

Ned looked at Lila and looked back, apprehensive, “You're already in so much trouble for ditching the decathlon-“

“P-Peter, you can’t keep d-ditching school-“

“Would you listen? I figured it out, right?” Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m going to see if my suit can go back to the deal I walked in on the night of Liz’s party and find out where those guys came from. Maybe they can lead me to the wing suit guy, and then I can catch him!”

“But we have a Spanish quiz,” Ned argued.

Peter looked at Ned with an expression that felt a little belittling. He was tired of arguing and clearly didn’t see why Ned and Lila would want him to stay in school. It was a kind of reckless determination that didn’t sit well with Lila at all. “Ned, I’m probably never going to come back here. Mr. Stark is moving the Avengers upstate. So, when I bring this guy in-“

“Dude,” All the excitement from the morning was gone from Ned. “You wanna be a high school dropout?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Peter assured him, even though that’s exactly what it sounded like.

“Ned’s right, Peter, you can’t - you can’t just skip school t-to fight crime. High school’s important-“

But Peter wasn’t listening. In fact, he started walking away. “I am so far beyond high school, right now.” And as he turned to a pair of doors that led to the exit, Principal Morita stood in his way.

“Ah, Mr. Parker,” he said, already walking back down the hallway. “Come with me, my office. Ned, Lila, get to class.”

*****

“Here, c’mon,” MJ pulled at Lila’s arm. The girls had a free period, and usually spent it in the library. Lila has fully planned on spending it pretending to do her homework when in actuality she was just going to worry about Peter.

Skipping school just wasn’t like him. Lila thought he was getting caught up in his situation. True, it was extraordinary beyond belief, and there was no way to tell how she would handle it, but she thought Peter had more grit than what he was showing. School was important, almost if not equally as important as the crime Peter fought in the afternoons.

And then there was the issue of Tony Stark, and Peter’s idea of where he stood. Peter had the mindset that he had to prove himself to Tony Stark in order to be fully accepted into a world he’d always dreamt of, but that made little sense to Lila. In her mind, Tony Stark already was accepting of Peter. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have given Peter the suit.

Those were the thoughts Lila distracted herself with in her first two periods, anyway. She’d planned on delving further into her worry during her free time next period. That is, until MJ changed their plans. “And where are we going?” Lila asked, allowing herself to be steered by her taller friend.

“I’ve been sketching the kids in detention,” she answered, ”Lila, they’re the perfect inspiration: they basically all just sit and wonder if they’re lives are going to spiral out of control. Like first, it’s detention, next it’s prison. I mean, you can’t get that kind of raw panic anywhere else.”

“I’m slightly worried you seem so excited about this,” Lila muttered, filing into the classroom where detention was being held. Coach Wilson was already perched at the desk, the TV on the stand waiting to play the Captain America tape that was at the ready. Michelle sat at the edge of the classroom, and Lila sat with her, already pulling out her homework.

She thought she got a few odd stares from the one or two kids that were further in the room, since Lila had never been in any kind of trouble in her life. Even though her presence wasn’t mandatory, she was still unsettled at the thought of being so close to a trouble she had no interest in ever being a part of. She only felt slightly better when Peter walked through the door as the bell rang. He eyed her suspiciously, and seemingly answered his own question when his gaze slid over to Michelle, who was already sketching away.

Peter looked antsy. Sitting in his seat, Lila could see the tension in his shoulders as Coach Wilson lazily went over the rules of detention from his desk chair. He proceeded to play the clip of Captain America lecturing the kids in detention, but Lila could tell Peter wasn’t taking in a word of it. She was considering shooting him a text when suddenly he shot up and grabbed his backpack. He marched out of the room without another word.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lila made the decision to go after him. She told Michelle she’d be right back and hurried after her friend. When she caught up to him, he’d reached the row of lockers where he hid things and lifted it one-handed. Despite her worry, Lila watched him in awe, having to take a second to adjust to the fact that he did actually have super strength.

When the moment ended, her sense caught up to her. “Peter!” She called out, jogging the rest of the way up to him. He turned, impatience dotting across his features. “You can’t go.”

“Lila, I don’t have time-“

“But you do,” She insisted. “Y-You do have time. You can’t just - just leave.”

“Yes, I can,” Peter actually rolled his eyes. It stung Lila more than she thought it would. “Look, you don’t understand, I’ve gotta do this for Mr. Stark. Now, I’ve really gotta go.”

He tried to turn away, but in a bold move, Lila grabbed his arm, “T-Tony Stark is a c-certified genius, and even he stayed in school. Why can’t you?”

“Because when the Avengers move upstate, I’ve gotta be there. The best school I could have would be by learning from him. Who knows, maybe - maybe I’ll get a tutor or something-“

“P-Peter, you’re chasing a-approval from someone who already gave it to you. I mean - look at what y-you’ve already done. The whole school’s b-been talking about it for the entire w-week.”

“Lila,” irritation at still being in school was what made Peter grow short. Lila flinched at the tone. “You don’t get it. I can do so much more if he could just see it, that’s why I’ve gotta go.”

“You do so much, Peter. You - you saved my life twice-“

Peter snapped, “Lila, stop. I’ve made up my mind. I can’t just be Peter Parker anymore, you know? I finally have a chance to prove that I’m so much more than just a nobody now. Because while that might be fine for you, it’s not for me.” The words left his mouth harsh and bitter before his mind could even keep up. Peter didn’t even realize what he’d said until he watched Lila take a step back.

White hot anger burned her skin and flushed her face. Hurt came quickly after, and Lila blinked furiously to stop the tears from rushing to the surface. She released a short breath and made eye contact with Peter. He felt bad, she could tell, but he didn’t offer any kind of apology.

So much for being friends.

“You w-wonder what that life is like, Peter? Being an - an Avenger?” Her voice was quiet, more quiet than normal, but the emotion seemed to amplify it down the empty hallways. “I’ll t-tell you. It’s staring d-down at people who are dead for the sole r-reason that pure evil just likes it that way. It’s being unable to s-save the people you love most, and l-living with that when all is said and - and done.”

“Lila, I-“

She angrily brushed the lone tear away that managed to escape. “You wanna hear wh-what I think? I think that if - if Tony Stark wanted you to b-be like him, he would’ve given you an I-Iron Man suit. Instead he gave you the Spider-Man suit. But what do I know, r-right? I’m just a nobody.” She gave Peter, the boy who broke her heart, one last look. “Good luck out there.”

And she turned around, walking away from Peter Parker with a few tears falling down her face.

[firelord-frowny]

i’m binge watching dr phil (bc i ran out of Lynn Toler’s divorce court 😭) while i knit, and just 

i’m on this episode with a girl and a guy in their early 20s who had a baby AFTER they broke up, and everybody involved is being extra immature and stupid and annoying, and she’s mad that he’s dating somebody else even though she broke up with him??? complaining that ~he shouldn’t be focused on another woman, i’m not focused on another man~ and it’s like GIRL YOU AREN’T EVEN TOGETHERRRRRRR!!!!! and the dude is being dumb and not wanting to go out of his way to be in the child’s life, and they’re both hella stupid, and the guy’s new girlfriend honestly seems way too mature to be dealing with that shit, but i guess she isn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t still beeeeeee in a relationship with a guy who’s behaving dumbly in a dumb situation, but i digress...

LMAO I COULD NEVERRRRRRRRRRRR! oh my god i could LITERALLY NEVER have a child with someone i wasn’t already certain i wanted to spend the rest of my life with, LET ALONE someone i had ALREADY DUMPED oh my god!!!! which, i mean, i don’t want kids ANYWAY, but i for DAMN sure would have to be very happily and very comfortably married to a dude for a WHILE before there would even be a fraction of a chance that i’d change my mind. 

i truly do not understaaaaaaaaaaand how anyone could be so casual about having a whole child with somebody they already decided they didn’t like and subsequently broke up with. Assuming you plan to raise the child, and assuming the other parent plans to participate in that as well, you’re LITERALLY agreeing to have a permanent and profound connection with someone you don’t like FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!! 

for at least the next 18 years, you’re going to get into stupid arguments about How To Discipline Your Child. for the rest of your life, you’re going to have to engage with this person at your kid’s recitals/performances/sports games/honor roll assemblies/graduations/etc. your kid is gonna prefer one of your homes over the other and they’re gonna throw a fit when it’s time to go spend the weekend at mommy’s. 

i mean, i KNOOOOOOOOOOOOW that there are plenty of parents who are able to be fantastic coparents with each other, and they remain good friends, and they’re supportive of each other’s relationship with the kid, and they make decisions together, and they both take responsibility for the child’s emotional, financial, and physical needs, and when/if they ever pursue new relationships with other people, it doesn’t cause any issues because all the adults involved are mature and responsible and care deeply about the wellbeing of the child. I know there are situations like that. I know not every set of single coparents have an awful experience. 

BUT YOU CAN’T COUNT ON THAT OMGGGG!!!!! 

you could date a dude for a month, think he’s the most responsible, respectful, gentlemanly gentleman who ever gentleman’d on earth. you discover on the 32nd day of dating him that he’s an insecure, passive-aggressive, untrustworthy mooch who becomes a complete asshole when you disagree about the smallest things. 

you could date a lady for a month and think she’s compassionate and understanding and supportive, and on day 32 you discover she has no respect for boundaries, she thinks it’s okay to hit you when she’s mad on account of She’s Just A Weak Little Woman So It’s Impossible For Her To REALLY Hurt You. 

You don’t knoooooooooooooooowwwwww people well enough after just a few months of dating them to decide that you should have them in your life forever! shit, i honestly don’t even think a few YEARS is enough time to make a choice like that. You need to know how somebody behaves in adversity. You need to know if they’re financially responsible. You need to know if their long-term goals are compatible with your own. You need to know how they respond to YOU when YOU are experiencing adversity. How do they interact with you when you’re depressed? Afraid? Overwhelmed? You need to at least have an IDEA of how they grieve when they lose a loved one. You need to know how they cope with sudden and drastic changes. You need to observe them long enough to learn their habits and behavior patterns. You need to be able to reliably predict the kinds of choices they’ll make. 

So like, it can take YEARS to finally gather enough data about a person to predict what a lifelong relationship with them might be like. You can date someone for 2 years and everything is fantastic, but then you get to the 3rd year and they lose their job and they respond to the stress by becoming abusive. You can date someone for 3 years and discover in the 4th year that they begrudge your success and try to take you down a peg every time you achieve something that you’re proud of. 

If I got knocked up by some dude I haven’t known and trusted and loved for a few years already, there is no. fucking. way. that i would have that baby. there is no way i would even get up to any hanky panky with them without being on birth control and using condoms in the FIRST place, so the odds that I would get knocked up by anyone are super slim, but if I got knocked up anyway, i would fuckin teleport to a clinic right fuckin quick and have that motherfucker yoinked out of my uterus SO fast! *aretha franklin voice* ain’t no way.

i caaaaan’t. i CAN’T! IMAGINE!!!

and i am SURE this is a biased assumption due to the fact that I mostly hear about these kinds of parents on court tv or talk shows or whatever, but it seeeeems almost like a rule of thumb that people who have a baby very shortly after meeting each other tend to be stupid and irresponsible as FUCK. And that makes sense to me bc like... only an irresponsible person would make the long series of unwise choices that would lead to them having a baby at a young age with someone they don’t know they can trust. I feel like responsible people tend not to let that happen! 

and PLEASE don’t get me wrong - i don’t think people who get into situations like that are Bad People. like, you can be irresponsible and immature and make shitty choices and still be a good person who’s kind and whose heart is always in the right place and who always tries to do the right thing, even if they’re not very good at figuring out what the right thing even is. 

i only mean to express how dumbstruck i am by the very CONCEPT of On Purposely linking yourself permanently with somebody you already know you don’t like, or who you may DISCOVER you don’t like in the near future. even just the THOUGHT of it mkaes me anxious. 

like omfg if i got knocked up and raised the child of that one ain’t shit motherfucker i had a Thing with in college?????? disaster. a lifetime of fuckboy shenanigans. a lifetime of missed appointments and broken promises and probably also a lifetime of being under the constant threat of a fuckin police raid lmfaoooo dude was LITERALLY a drug dealer. no way. no way. AIN’T NO WAY!!! 

ohmy goddddddd. young adults (and even Adulty Adults, tbh), PLEEEEAAAAAASSSEEEE value yourself enough that getting on a ride without knowing where it’s headed is WHOLLY out of the question for you. Permanently attaching yourself to a near stranger should not be viable option. ESPECIALLY if you still haven’t built a stable, self-sufficient life for yourself. like, if you DO wind up having a child with a near stranger, you should at LEAST have steady, good-paying employment, and safe and comfortable housing. I mean, those are things that you should try to have before you have a baby REGARDLESS of who you have it with, but if you DO have a baby with a near stranger/someone you don’t like, it’s ESPECIALLY important that you’re able to support yourself so you’ll always be okay in spite of any potential fuckery, tom foolery, or shenanigans from the other parent. you’re not up a creek if they won’t pay child support. you can afford daycare if the other parent is unwilling to take care of your child when you’re not at home. 

i caaaaAAAAAN’T!!!! 

[lost-in-sokovia]

The Years That Passed and the Years Past (Part 2)

back by popular demand because i had WAY too many sad steve rogers fangirls on my page and we can’t let that happen😅... so here’s your part 2 where i’ll fix some dumb steve crap, and you can read part one here! so @heyiamthatbitch @lovely-geek @vesta-ro @yn-the-reader @ladythena @itzelreader , here you go! anyway, i hope you all enjoy!💙 (beginning dialogue is not my own, it is from the avengers: endgame script. thank you!)

Steve and Bucky hugged each other in front of the platform in the forest. The sun was still shining and it was a beautiful day.

Tony’s funeral was finished and it was now time for Steve to return the Infinity Stones where they belonged so time and history wouldn’t mess itself up.

Steve and Bucky broke their embrace and Bucky looked at his best friend with his sad blue eyes.

“Gonna miss you buddy,” he whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve reassured his best friend. Bucky smiled softly, knowing that very soon things weren’t going to be the same.

He turned and began to walk into the platform where he would travel through time again. Bruce pushed buttons and flipped switches on the control panel as Steve mentally prepared himself.

Steve pushed the button and his time-traveling suit formed around his body as he gripped the briefcase containing the precious stones. The mjlonir was at his side and he stood still and solemn.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked skeptically.

“For him as long as he needs, for us five seconds,” Bruce replied.

Steve turned around slowly and grabbed the mjolnir, looking through the trees over to Tony and Pepper’s house.

“You ready, Cap?” Bruce asked.

Steve sighed nervously and nodded as Bruce messed with more controls. He was about to reunite with the love of his life and he was scared?

This was all going to work out.

He had spent time and effort thinking about and making this decision.

It was what he wanted, and this was going to make him happy. A life with Peggy Carter, the love of his life.

Right?

The sun shined on him through the trees and he closed his eyes for a brief second.

“Alright, we’ll meet you back here okay?” Bruce replied as the machine started to rev up with a high-pitched whir.

Steve stood there for a minute before allowing the helmet to form over his head. Images of you and Luca flew through his head.

Luca was his son, his little mini-me and someone who loved and looked up to him.

Luca was your’s and Steve’s.

You.

Steve thought about how perfect your relationship used to be. How much joy you brought him. The way your (Y/E/C) eyes lit up when you met him, and how your smile gave him butterflies.

You and Steve had made this child who he just met, and was now going to abandon?

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“You bet,” Steve said back with a new motive. The helmet formed over his head and with another whir and a zap of light, he was gone.

Bucky stood there in his warm jacket and watched the place where Steve once stood. He was gone now and it would be different when he returned.

Bucky thought about you and Luca. How was that little boy going to make it through life without his father who was ripped from him? Bucky knew you were strong and could take care of your boy by yourself, but it just wouldn’t be the same.

He sighed and looked up for a minute. Maybe he could fill in for Steve? Not like that of course, but he could help Luca through life? Bucky wanted to cry.

Bruce counted down from five, and suddenly Steve was back where he stood. Bucky’s eyes widened and he stepped back, shocked. Sam smiled and nodded with satisfaction because as far as he knew, this was supposed to happen.

Bruce began to happily shut everything off after the successful mission and Steve ran off the platform to Bucky.

“Steve?” Bucky gasped as he eyed his best friend with concern. “Weren’t you going to-?”

“Buck, I can’t do it,” Steve confessed. “(Y/N) and Luca are my life and family, what was I thinking?” He put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky stared with wide blue eyes into his best friend’s blue eyes filled with conflict.

Bucky nodded and Steve sighed before quickly turning around to look at Sam and Bruce.

“Great job, Cap,” Sam complimented. Bruce nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah Steve, that was great-“

“Look I have to go,” Steve said urgently, gesturing his head up to the direction of the Stark residence. Sam stared for a moment with squinted eyes, then shrugged.

“O-Okay, whatever you say man.” Sam replied casually. Steve glanced over to Bruce before taking off into the opposite direction.

As he ran through the trees he thought of the life he could have with you and his son. His son who he loved and needed to be with.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

~•~•~•~

You buckled Luca into his car seat quietly. You had let him meet Morgan and you had discussed play dates with Pepper. You let him meet Clint’s family and his kids were delighted to meet him. Cassie Lang had even volunteered to ever be a possible babysitter if you needed one in a bind. Peter Quill had mesmerized your boy and Peter Parker made him laugh.

Despite all his new friends, Luca longed for his dad.

The sun shined through the windows of your car and warmed Luca. You watched a tear fall down his soft cheek as he looked down sadly. His blue eyes were watery and his face was beginning to flush.

You frowned and sighed; Luca wasn’t the only one who wanted Steve.

You kissed your boy’s head before walking around and climbing into the driver seat of the car. You ran a hand through your (Y/H/C) hair and closed your eyes for a moment.

What a whirlwind these past couple of weeks had been.

You started the car and began to drive away from the scene. You checked on Luca through the mirror and saw his sad little face that couldn’t help but choke you up. He wiped away tears with his small fingers and sniffed.

“It’s a bit of a drive home baby, you can go to sleep if you’d like,” you inquired softly. He continued to look down.

“I m-miss Daddy,” he whimpered. You felt your eyes water and turned on Luca’s playlist with lullabies and his favorite songs, not wanting your son to see you cry too.

“I do too Luca... Try to go to sleep,” you said caringly. He nodded and slumped down into his car seat, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily.

You still couldn’t believe what Steve had done, even after meeting his son. His son! You shook your head and focused on the road. Bucky would always be in contact, you thought. Bucky would do anything for you.

You let your mind race as you drove through the backroads towards home.

~•~•~•~

By the time Steve had gotten back to where everyone gathered, you were gone. He clenched his fists in frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

He looked around the area and was trying to piece together an idea of where you may be heading.

He knew he had to get back to the compound to try and figure out where you were currently living.

If Steve was going to dedicate his life to you it needed to start today; and he wanted to.

~•~•~•~

It was about a thirty-minute drive from the Stark’s to your house. By the time you pulled in front of your complex, you were exhausted.

You checked in the mirror to see your baby boy sleeping in his car seat, his blond tufts tussled about. You rubbed your (Y/E/C) eyes and sighed, unbuckling and getting out to grab your son.

The sun embraced your body as a cool breeze blew your hair back. You opened the car door and gently unbuckled Luca and picked him up.

Luca laid his head against your shoulder and gently grabbed a few strands of your hair, a comfort-habit he’d had since he was a baby.

You walked into the lobby of your complex and waved at the bell boy. You walked up to the elevator and pushed the button to your floor.

Once you were in your apartment, you took off Luca’s dirty clothes gently as he slept, leaving him only in his Mickey Mouse underwear. You tossed them aside and laid your boy on your bed and covered him.

You sat beside him a second as you stroked his soft blond hair, admiring how much he looked like Steve.

You kissed him and quietly slipped out, pulling the door slightly closed behind you.

You walked over to your couch and collapsed on it, falling asleep from exhaustion before you could even set any alarms to wake yourself up. You deserved this though.

You deserved a break.

~•~•~•~

After frantically speeding back to the compound, Steve began to open all of your data and record files.

Full name, birthdate, hometown, parents, occupation... Nothing on current whereabouts.

Not even with all the advanced tech that Tony left behind could he begin to piece together where you might be.

He would’ve asked Nat for help, but she wouldn’t be there to do that anymore...

Steve searched his brain for any trace of where you could be. The past couple days had be so chaotic he couldn’t remember where the team picked you up to recruit you again.

How the hell could he forget something as important as that?

He paced back and forth, holding his hands tightly behind his back and growing angry with himself. He then stopped abruptly with wide blue eyes.

He remembered the day he had helped move you out of your old apartment and officially into Avengers Tower. The day he was just trying to help the new recruit.

Though that was long ago, it was the only shot he had.

Grabbing his keys he made his way to his car, getting ready to go drive just outside the heart of New York and to the nice little complex where you may or may not have been located.

Whatever it took, he was going to find you.

~•~•~•~

You were able to sleep for about a good hour and a half before you were woken by giggles and extra weight on top of you.

You smiled and opened your eyes to meet Luca’s bright blue ones right in front of you. Happiness danced in them as he laughed again and wrapped his arms around your neck.

You hugged him tightly and tickled his belly which made him squeal. You pushed back your tangled (Y/H/C) hair and stretched out your legs.

“Did you have a good nap, Luca?” You asked nicely as he nodded. He jumped off of you and presented to you that he redressed himself...

In his blue Captain America shirt with bright orange shorts (that you were pretty sure were backwards) and just one neon green sock.

“Mommy I dressed myself!” He exclaimed proudly, doing a little turn to show you. You smiled while stifling laughter, not wanting to hurt his feelings; he made a decent effort.

“You did! Look at you!” You replied and stood up and picked him up. You twirled him around and kissed him all over his face. He laughed and you patted his back as you set him back down.

“Mommy is still in her clothes from earlier, maybe she should get changed then we can eat.” You winked. Your boy jumped up and down enthusiastically.

“Let me help you get clothes mommy!” Luca grabbed your hand and started to lead you to your room.

“O-Oh, okay...”

~•~•~•~

Steve pulled up to the building you apparently lived in. It was a nice little complex, small, but you definitely needed a steady income to afford it.

He climbed out and walked in, his nerves starting to get to him.

The bell boy smiled at him nicely as Steve walked up to him.

“H-Hi, does (Y/N) (Y/L/N) live here? I’m an old colleague,” Steve explained quietly. The boy stared for a moment then smiled.

“You’re Captain America...” He said. Steve nodded and the boy grabbed Steve’s hand to shake it.

“Thank you so much for everything you’ve done, m-my family wouldn’t be back today if it wasn’t for you,” he said in gratitude. Steve nodded as the boy rustled around and grabbed a key.

“She lives in 14B,” the bell boy said. Steve sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair.

“Thank you,” Steve said breathlessly and ran up the stairs to get to your floor.

He stood at your door for a moment and inhaled. He could vaguely make out your voice and his son’s squeals and excited voice.

He inserted the key into your door.

After Luca had helped you change into a very stylish outfit of your red Avengers logo shirt with your bright pink sweatpants, the two of you scrolled on your phone for a place to order takeout from.

When the two of you heard your doorknob jiggle you looked up and Luca held onto to you tightly.

And before you could do anything else Steve Rogers stood in your apartment with a relieved expression.

His blond hair was no longer neat and his blue eyes pierced into your (Y/E/C) ones.

“Daddy!” Luca screamed and ran across the room to hug him. Steve knelt down and embraced his son tightly.

You stood up with an open mouth and tears in your eyes. Steve squeezed his son one last time before standing up and looking at you as a tear fell from his eyes.

Luca stood to the side of Steve but his smile didn’t falter. You ran up to Steve and kissed him passionately, him wrapping his arms around your waist and you putting your hands on his cheeks.

He picked you up with lips still connected, then set you down and slowly pulled away to admire your gorgeous face.

Your gaze never broke away from him as though you were afraid that if you blinked he would leave once again. He swiped a tear from your eyes and gently grabbed one of your hands to kiss it.

You hugged him again and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“I-I thought I lost you,” you whispered shakily.

He was never going again. Feeling your touch again and seeing your beautiful face, the way you gave him butterflies and a reason to keep going on in life. He couldn’t ask for more.

“I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N),” Steve reassured softly. He rubbed your back and gently tugged you away so he could kiss you again.

“I love you,” He said softly with a smile and those dazzling blue eyes. You hugged again, and Steve felt a small tug on his pants.

He looked down and saw his baby boy Luca still smiling up at him, reaching up in a gesture to be picked up.

Steve chuckled and reached down to hoist up his mini-me. Steve kissed Luca’s soft cheek and smiled at him.

“Daddy are you going to stay?” Luca asked. Steve glanced at you with a smile and looked back at the bubbly boy in his arms.

“Yes Luca, and I promise to be here for the rest of your life.”

“Infinity and always?” Luca asked. Steve tussled his son’s blond hair as he giggled.

“Infinity and always,” Steve replied.

Steve set Luca down as Luca ran over to the couch to begin a grand tour of your not-so-grand apartment.

Steve held your hand as the two of you followed Luca.

“(Y/N),” Steve started. “Not to start off our new life like this... But who dressed you?”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Welcome to parenthood, Captain America.”

WELL I THINK THAT WAS CUTE?? like did i live up to your expectations? did i fix everything? also can “infinity and always” be the new “i love you 3000” for luca? anyways, i hope you enjoy that lil bean luca and you’re always welcome to throw him in your requests anytime! thanks always for reading!💙

[shoot-i-messed-up]

Thomas Appreciating Logan (Alternative title: Earl Grey Tea)

A/N: I...I said I was gonna start another fanfic project and I ended up not writing any fics for like a whole two years. Cheers to this drabble.

Summary/Genre: Logan- and Thomas-centric. Platonic Logan Sanders and Character!Thomas. Romantic if you squint. Some angst at the beginning but mostly fluff of Thomas and Logan hanging out bc good lord do I need some fluff after that Roman angst video. Light hurt/comfort. Set after SvS Redux

TW: uhhh feeling like bad. Tell me if I need to add anything!!

Word Count: 1111 (lol)

The morning after Mary Lee and Lee left, Logan, resting in his room re-reading his favorite book, felt a tug on his hair and his clothes. He was being summoned.

It wasn’t really often he was being summoned, according to the experiment he collected the previous November. Patton was summoned 22 times (usually to help Thomas cook), Roman was summoned 16 times (usually to help with Thomas’s videos), Virgil was summoned 9 times (four of which was to have a Friday group marathon with Thomas and the rest of the sides and five of which were one-on-one time with Thomas), and Logan clocked in at a whopping 4 times. The exact 4 Friday movie marathons the rest of the sides also shared with Thomas.

Logan sighed softly. He tried not to think about it too much, else it somehow gains Thomas’s attention. And besides, it was illogical to think that Thomas would want to spend one-on-one time with him. Logan was, as Roman put it, a party pooper at his best and a mood killer at his worst.

But here he was, being summoned. And it was not Friday.

Logan sunk out of his room and rose up in Thomas’s bedroom with a whoosh. “What do you need, Thomas?”

Thomas fiddled with his sweater strings. “Heya Logan...how ya doing? After this whole...fiasco?”

Logan’s eyebrow quirked. “I’m quite alright, Thomas. You don’t need to ask me; I was not important this video.” At this statement, Thomas winced. “In fact, the more impertinent task would be asking Roman how he is doing. As far as I know, he left with his ego figuratively bruised.”

“Doesn’t he get literally bruised?” Thomas asked.

“No...” Logan tilted his head a little bit. “That’s when your ego is bruised, both literally and figuratively.” 

“Anyway, I figured Roman could use some time to cool down.”

“Why would Roman need to cool down? Unless he is in the Imagination, he shouldn’t have a different body temperature than yours, Thomas.” It dawned on Logan that it was another expression that he misinterpreted, so Logan shook his head to figuratively clear it. “Why did you summon me here, Thomas? I know you wouldn’t simply summon me for an apology.” Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but Logan continued. “Do you need help editing the footage of the video perhaps?”

Thomas scoffed. “I don’t only summon you when I need help with something.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “That is technically correct. According to the data I gathered in November of 2019, the only times you have summoned me were when we had Friday night movie marathons with the other sides.”

“That’s impossible…” Thomas’s voice became slightly higher pitched as he tried to remember the last time he summoned Logan for some one-on-one time.

“Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll take my leave.” Logan began to sink out until Thomas cried out.

“Wait!”

Logan rose up again and stared expectantly at Thomas.

Thomas bit his lip, and Logan couldn’t help but glance at. At a glance, the sides might seem identical to Thomas, but a closer look would make one notice Roman’s tanned skin and muscles, or Patton’s dad bod, or Virgil’s different colored eyes. They also had subtly different facial features. Logan, for example, had a sharper jaw and higher cheekbones. Logan was sharper, angular, awkward. Not like Virgil’s charmingly boyish awkwardness.

Thomas finally spoke, which brought Logan out of his thought. “We could...hang out right now if you want. Are you free? Of course, you’re free, you’re a part of me. I don’t know why I, uh, said that. Oh boy, is it getting hot in here?”

Logan softly smiled. “I would love that, Thomas. For the sake of clarity, will it just be us?”

“Just us,” Thomas confirmed.

Logan whispered, “yes!” Going back to his usual voice, Logan said, “what will we be doing?”

“Oh, I thought you would want to choose…”

Logan’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and Thomas felt himself smile giddily in response. “Would you like to play Monopoly with me?”

“Of course!”

Logan half-ran to find the Monopoly board as Thomas prepared some tea. He held a hand to his heart, which was light in a way that was...pleasant. “Huh.” In his kitchen, Thomas was struck by the fact that he didn’t even know how or even if Logan liked tea. By the time Thomas poured some steaming Earl Grey tea into two mugs, Logan had already set up the Monopoly board.

“I hope you like Earl Grey tea,” Thomas said in a light tone.

“Oh, I dislike the taste,” Logan said flatly as Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. “However, I appreciate you making tea for me in the first place, so I’ll drink it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to--” Thomas stammered.

“It’s rather like me, in a figurative sense of course. You might not enjoy my presence or what I represent--” 

“Logan…”

“--but I believe you appreciate my work regardless of me being a…party pooper.” 

“Logan… I don’t see you as just a party pooper,” Thomas said. Then Logan felt two very warm arms wrap around him. Thomas was hugging him. “I do appreciate you. You. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.”

Logan sunk into the hug. “Apology accepted, though I don’t think it was necessary…. So, which of us will have a turn first?”

…

“And did you know that Artemis had a lover despite being a virgin goddess?” Logan recounted as Thomas counted the Monopoly money out to give to Logan as a fine for landing on his property. “Oh! And on that note, I find it simply fascinating that Artemis contrasted so much with the previous Greek moon goddess, Selene. Especially since Selene’s most memorable myth was about her being figuratively head over heels for a man...” Logan cleared his throat and readjusted his tie in embarrassment. “Pardon me, I got carried away on a boring rant.”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize!” Thomas laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder and smiled. At the beginning of the Monopoly game, they had been on opposite sides of the coffee table, but eventually, they wound up right next to each other. “I think it’s really cool.”

Logan paused, staring at Thomas. He knew, intellectually, that Thomas wasn’t lying, but… “You think it’s cool?”

“I think you’re cool!” Thomas booped Logan’s nose. “You little nerdy bean.”

Logan pinked and simply leaned his head on Thomas’s shoulder. “I...I think you’re cool too, Thomas. Also, I’m only two inches shorter than you.”

“Two inches is a lot, Lo.”

Silence.

“Lo, what’s wrong?”

“I ran out of tea.”

@max-is-tired

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 13: Vespoid

There are a few things I dislike about the Spring season, but at the top of list? The ants and wasps come back. Freaking ants keep getting in my freaking house crawling in my freaking kitchen because they want my freaking food! But it could be worse; they could all be wasps. I despise having to live with those things around, even if I’ve only ever been stung once as a little kid (yellowjackets are on my sh*t list forever for that, by the way). But it could be worse; they could all be Vespoids.

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Generations)

Appearance: Y’know, I really wish I could make out these guys’ faces better, but I can’t exactly do anything about that, so let’s go over the rest of them. Vespoids look like your average purple wasps that just happen to be four feet tall. Well, okay, not really. Real wasps don’t have three pairs of wings or barbed stingers (at least it looks like there’s a barb at the stinger’s base), nor do their stingers protrude that far out of their bodies at all times (and before anyone brings up ichneumon wasps, those are ovipositors that are used to bore into wood to lay eggs on/in things like grubs; they can’t be used like stingers). Other than the wings, color, and maybe the face, Vespoids look basically like you’d expect a giant wasp to look, but they’re just alien enough that they don’t really give me the same anxieties as looking at a wasp up-close would. 5/10.

Behavior: Like a lot of other wasps, Vespoids live in colonies with a Queen. Where are these colonies? Practically everywhere! Forests, jungles, swamps, deserts, volcanoes--for God’s sake, these things can even live in snowy areas no sweat, so you’re probably never safe from these things outside of a village! Apart from the Queen, Vespoids come in two varieties: the smaller, more fragile workers and the larger, more aggressive soldiers. The workers have the jobs you’d expect: tidying up the hive, taking care of the Queen and eggs, and gathering food. The soldiers, on the other hand, have one purpose: protect the Queen with their lives. Now, you would think that the wiki would have more data on these two varieties, but it doesn’t. I’ve even looked at the Vespoid Queen page to see if there was any mention of the Vespoids involved in her fight being different from the ones you normally encounter, but no dice. I guess there’s a reason this image is on every monster’s ecology page:

The Vespoids you see most often are the workers searching for food. As you’d expect from wasps, “food” basically means anything they can kill. If the prey is small, they’ll paralyze it with a sting or two and carry it back to the colony. If the prey is a biggun, multiple workers will sting it before cutting it into pieces that can be transported back to the colony. Ew. The workers are well-equipped to traveling great distances in search of food thanks to their lightweight bodies, which aren’t weighed down by their durable exoskeletons...I say “durable” because the wiki says “durable,” but these guys have the Hornetaur problem of “hit me and I shatter.” I’d cut them some slack by pointing out that the attacks they’re hit with are coming from powerful weapons which might not even kill them in one hit, or from even more powerful monsters, but those things are the norm for the wildlife of this world, so no slack will be cut for them. See previous comment about above image. Anyways, Vespoids can be so successful that their colonies can become too large to support, so when that happens, they’ll split the colony up into smaller colonies that are still relatively close to the main one, but are dispersed over a wider area. I don’t know if this is behavior seen in eusocial animals irl, but it’s pretty interesting. The Vespoids are basically a mix between ants and wasps in behavior, from what I can tell, which is...decent, I guess. They still kinda feel like the bare minimum you need to do to make a eusocial animal. The thought of a small procession of giant wasps carrying chunks of meat through the air is pretty morbid, though, and sometimes, that’s what counts. 6/10.

Abilities: What do you think these guys use to fight? Those stingers aren’t for show; they’re packing a payload of neurotoxin used to paralyze prey. Even though their attacks are more of a nuisance for hunters who are already in a battle than a substantial threat (which tells you just how much more powerful the humans of the MH world are than us), need I remind you that these things travel together? If they weren’t so easy to kill, they’d probably be as bad as some of the larger monsters you have to fight. But that’s all these guys have for an attack, which is basically what real wasps do (except, you know, it’s coming from a wasp that’s 4 feet long). 4/10.

Equipment: Unfortunately, all Vespoid weapons are recolors of Hornetaur weapons. This is likely because they were the first insectoid monsters in the series and many of their weapons use parts from both of them. For example, the Duals Blades known as the Insect Slicer are made by upgrading the Insector+ (which looks exactly like the Insector and the Insect Slicer) with both Hornetaur and Vespoid parts:

You can tell that these are more Hornetaur-themed based off the colors. But you can upgrade the Insect Slicer into the Alated Insect, which has a color scheme closer to Vespoids:

Though, honestly, Vespoids aren’t as shiny as Hornetaurs are, so this still doesn’t exactly look right. Another weapon that uses both Hornetaur and Vespoid parts is a Hunting Horn called the Sonic Glass:

Again, more Hornetaur than Vespoid. I didn’t show this off when I covered Hornetaurs because I wanted to stick to weapons which didn’t require parts from multiple specific monsters because I thought it would be harder to say which monster the weapon was based off of, but now that I think about it, that’s stupid. You can tell by looking at this that it’s themed after the Hornetaur. But the version of the Sonic Glass that appears in Monster Hunter World, the Sonic Horn, has a color scheme that’s much more like the Vespoid’s:

...look, it’s ugly, but I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been told Monster Hunter World has the worst weapon designs in the series. And before anyone asks why I’m not showing off the Glass Royale, that’s clearly based off the Vespoid Queen, not the regular ones. All right, now it’s time for the armor to just be the Hornetaur armor recolored.

Oh. They’re actually different. Didn’t expect that. Well, they’re very...pointy. Seriously, there are spikes all over these things. And the female set’s helmet looks like a bug’s head, and knowing Monster Hunter, it’s probably real. Ew. I definitely like the Hornetaur Armor better than this, ‘cause it’s just...kinda dull and ugly. The colors don’t do a lot for it. I hate how every Vespoid weapon is either a recolor or closer to the Hornetaur in terms of theme, and the armor, while unique, is unappealing. At least the raptors had some unique weapons, even though they had basically the same armor. The Hornetaur weapons offer a lot in terms of design, but I feel like I have to give this a low score on principle. 4/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Look, when I said that this was “definitely gonna be more interesting” than the Velociprey, that was because I didn’t know how plain and unoriginal the Vespoids were. I just saw “giant bug” and thought it would be cool. Don’t blame me for that! Well, good news is, the next monster has to be more interesting than the Vespoid, for reasons that you’ll see when I get to it...or if you wanna go to the Monster List on the wiki yourself, but that’s called “spoiling.” 4/10.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 15 - Outpost 16 - Rocket

Aparicu was not human. This didn’t bother her. Her closest friends and coworkers were also not human. This didn’t bother her either. What bothered her was that she wanted very much to share her achievements with humanity, and especially her creators, but she was 62 light years away from Earth, and she’d been in space for over 75 by Earth time. The relativistic speed she and her friends were traveling at made it so they’d only experienced 43 years – 82 percent of the speed of light, on average – and she was built to last, with modules that she and her friends could repair; the only thing that could go wrong was if all four of them were knocked out at the same time, and the ship was hardened against electromagnetic pulses, radiation, and other things that could theoretically take them all out. Everyone who’d been involved in creating her, however, was dead.

Well. If they succeeded, that wouldn’t be a problem.

She and the Apariabs – named Red, Green and Blue, to avoid the inherent hierarchy of a numerical or alphabetic system – were all healthy, and there had been a lot to do on the way here. They’d gathered information as they’d traveled, using the ship’s telescopes to take pictures of the entire starscape, one a minute, in a spherical pattern around the ship. That let them crunch numbers and compensate for the Doppler shift to get all kinds of information about the universe around them. They were transmitting everything back home, of course, in case the plan went wrong, but it obviously wouldn’t get there for another 62 years.

They’d also played a lot of games. Video games made for humans weren’t calibrated for robots, so they were either impossibly hard or tragically easy, sometimes within the same game, but board games and card games were fine. No games where you could win by counting cards, because the robots automatically did that without even trying, but playing poker was an amazing experience when you tried the art of the bluff for the first time in your life. Attempting to model what the other robots would think of you if you did X was hard enough, but then attempting to model that on top of the other robots knowing you were modeling it and compensating by creating their own models… this was the kind of challenging, exciting activity that could hold their attention for days at a time.

But now, they’d reached the end of the journey.

“Can we confirm that the gravitational field has a toroidal shape?” Aparicu asked Red, who was analyzing the gravitational patterns by using drones to drop tiny sensors into Wishing Well, and then measuring the part where the gravity became strong enough that the drone could no longer transmit.

“It does,” Red reported. “All of the specifications are exactly like they were on the Guest.”

“That’s a relief,” Blue said. “Can you imagine what it would be like if we got here and found it wasn’t as expected?”

Since Aparicu didn’t need to model human facial expressions to her teammates, her face didn’t move, but the pattern of LEDs on her face expressed deep irritation. “Blue, every time you say ‘can you imagine’ I am compelled to imagine, and I really don’t appreciate it.” As the Central Unit for the Ansible Project Autonomous Robotic Intelligences, Aparicu was tasked with modeling outcomes of potential situations. This modeling task could be triggered by anyone suggesting a possible future or an alternate present. Blue knew this, which was the reason Aparicu was irritated – Blue was deliberately moving operational memories about his coworkers’ preferences into long-term, slow-to-access storage so he could have more available space for modeling shapes. It wouldn’t be so bad if all he did with his shape-modeling was the modeling of the devices they’d be printing at the destination, but in fact he used it to model buildings, landscapes and even entire human cities, complete with tiny humans whose movement was based on statistical traffic models. He kept having to dump the shapes to long-term storage, too, and it was at eighty percent capacity already. Eventually he might have to delete something.

Green was busy quality-checking the print job for the mirrors as they printed. She looked up, which really didn’t mean anything because she was connected directly to the printer and didn’t have to look at it, but it was a signal that she was shifting some portion of primary attention to the target of her gaze. “So far variance in the print job is under nineteen nines, but I’m concerned that keeping the variance that low is making the process run really slowly.”

“We’ve been at this for forty-three years, Green,” Aparicu said. “I think we can take the time to make sure everything’s done right.”

Red said, “We have to compute the angles for the transmissions anyway, and determine how many substations the outpost should have. The toroid’s a toroid, but we have no idea how long the Guest was in transit, so there’s no guarantee Wishing Well’s grav field is identical to what they told us to expect.”

“But I want to get this stuff built,” Green said, her LEDs displaying frustration, the robot equivalent of a whine. “We’re here! We’re at Wishing Well, finally! And when we’re done, we can call home!”

“I wonder if we can get a strong enough connection to download media,” Blue said.

“We pretty much have to,” Aparicu reminded him. “Wishing Well’s humanity’s connection to the ansible network. It’s gonna suck if we can’t get the bandwidth to transmit yottabytes daily.”

“All the data on Earth is just about three brontobytes,” Red said. “If we could transmit a yottabyte a day, we could transmit all the data on Earth in nine years, approximately.”

“You’re not thinking. We don’t yet have the ability to digitize items down to the molecular level, but once we do… there’s approximately seven times ten to the 27 atoms in a human body, for example. If you don’t compress it, that’s seven brontobytes to describe the configuration of every atom. So if they want to digitize and send themselves, it’d take 21 years of using all of Earth’s bandwidth to send one uncompressed human pattern. Obviously we’re going to use compression when we figure out how to do it, but I have a suspicion you can’t use compression on the brain, at all.”

“So we want to be able to send brontobytes. Ideally, geopbytes,” Blue said. “Yeah, okay, we can get a lot of media from home if the thing works properly.”

“Well, brontobytes are gonna require an upgrade, and I don’t know if we’ll still be around by that time. Probably we won’t be involved. But we are definitely supposed to be able to transmit yottabytes.”

“You guys sound like you’re more worried about getting the latest media shows than being able to talk to Our People,” Green said. Aparicu could practically hear the capital letters. Green was very, very attached to the humans who had made them, even more than Aparicu. She’d flashed distress for weeks once they were far enough out that communication, even arel-laggy communication like emails every month, became impossible. “I can’t wait to tell Dr. Blum all about what we’ve done!”

Dr. Blum was certainly dead by now, but that was the point to the ansible project, and to Wishing Well. Wishing Well was a very tiny black hole, barely the mass of the Sun… which suggested it had been created artificially or that something very strange had happened to create it, because stars the size of the Sun weren’t supposed to be able to become black holes. Humanity hadn’t even detected it. The Guest, an unmanned alien craft they’d found in orbit around Proxima Centuri B, had come with the exact position of Wishing Well, and instructions on what to build to connect to the galactic ansible network, and the physics behind it.

“Ansible” was a term humans had used for generations to mean a fictional device that could transmit messages instantaneously across light years. The physics the alien craft had supplied didn’t provide a means of getting around light speed; instead, it made use of properties of black holes that humanity had been theorizing about but been unable to prove. Normally nothing within the event horizon of a black hole could ever escape. But if you had a black hole with a toroidal gravitational field, and if you positioned a beam of information just right, you could send it at an angle through the gravitation field so it would come out.

It turned out that within the black hole, space and time inverted – there were multiple dimensions of time, and only one of space. If you calculated your angle with sufficient precision, you could send a message out of the black hole so that it exited before you sent it… even years before you sent it.

Theoretically it was possible to send a message back in time, at least after a receiver had been in place for long enough. In practical terms, no one had yet been able to figure out how to make that work… the range of possible times that a beam could exit Wishing Well seemed to be approximately 124 years into the future or past… which was further evidence that maybe Wishing Well was artificial. Had someone discovered humanity’s existence at some point in the far distant past, and made a black hole for them to be able to connect to the ansible network when they were able to explore space far enough to find the instructions? No way to know… yet.

The crew of the April – named by humans for the acronym APR, Ansible Project Rocket, though technically the April was a spaceship, not a rocket – had been traveling forty-three years of their own time, and seventy-five of Earth’s years, in order to build the outpost that would handle transmissions. First they’d build the apparatus that would allow them to send a signal at lightspeed back to Earth… a hundred and twenty-four years ago. A signal sent from Earth at lightspeed would take 62 years to reach Wishing Well. The response would take 62 years to go back to Earth. So shooting the response back a hundred and twenty-four years would mean the response would arrive a few months, at most, after the signal had been sent.

After they had that up and running, so they could communicate with home – sending their own messages so they’d come out of the black hole, pointed at Earth, sixty-two years ago – they’d set up the parts that would let them send comms to the other ansnet nodes the Guest had given them coordinates for. Some of those messages would take a hundred years to get there… but the return response could be sent two hundred years ago. And humanity would finally be able to talk to whoever was out there. Never able to meet in person, since no one had broken the speed of light and the Guest suggested that the worlds participating in the ansnet might generally take several human lifetimes to reach even at the maximum speed anyone had ever gotten a spaceship to go… but at least able to be internet friends.

But first, the robots – the Central Unit and the Ancillary Builders – would create the means to send messages back home to the humans they’d left behind. Humans couldn’t handle the forty-three year journey, or the horrific psychological isolation of spending that entire time in a tiny box in space with no one but a handful of crewmates… but robots could be programmed with personalities that meshed with each other almost perfectly, and no real need to be able to go “outside” or experience a planetary surface. They’d been able to endure the journey, as no humans could have.

But they had to be connected to their homeworld, to humanity, or how could humanity be sure they’d actually build what they were supposed to? So all of them had been programmed, to some extent or another, to look at their creators as beloved parents. They were adults, out in space on their own, but adult humans, for the most part, still wanted to share their triumphs and their joys with their parents, if they could. The robots had been looking forward to telling their creators all about their trip, and showing off the ansible node they would have built, throughout the entire trip.

“I want to talk to Dr. Blum too,” Aparicu said. “But we’ve waited forty-three years, and she’s waited thirteen since we left by the time the message gets back to her.” Tenses were awkward when talking about time travel. “A few more weeks to make sure we get it right won’t hurt us.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t we look dumb if we had a variance that meant the message lost half its bandwidth, or missed us entirely,” Blue said.

Aparicu intensified her irritation pattern and repeated it for emphasis. “Blue… stop presenting me with hypotheticals!”

He said sorry, but she suspected he wasn’t, really.

[instant-typo]

Title: Mark me down as yours 

Pairing: Sidney Crosby / Evgeni Malkin  

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, some light cursing, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Omega!Sidney, Alpha!Geno, Getting Together, Alternate Universe - College/University

Word Count: 2326

Summary:

Geno's got it bad.

There’s just something about the sight of Sidney holding something that belongs to Geno that makes his hindbrain salivate and activate all the embarrassing Alpha instincts buried deeply in his chest, somewhere below that repressed memory of his grandfather walking in on him at 16 and his highschool talent show performance during which he tripped over the cables on the floor and tore his jeans. So there’s that.

There should be a law against this, Geno thinks and drapes himself a bit more dramatically over his table top. Nobody should be forced to sit through a two-hour lecture on the history of data ascertainment and theories. What does he care about relativism and rationalism and theories that have been disproven already.

He’s not forced to attend these lectures, Seryosha likes to remind him.

Seryosha is not forced to stick his nose into Geno’s business, Geno likes to remind him.

He’s got his reasons. He’s got plans.

A plan.

Or, well, some parts of a plan. A plan-ish idea?

Attending a boring lecture and staring at the back of someone’s head who sits three rows to the front and seven seats to the right - he’s counted, several times - counts as somewhat of a plan.

Sidney, ever dutiful Sidney, is taking notes in that neat little handwriting of his, with prettily crossed ts and curled as, and the only reason Geno hasn’t left the lecture yet to return at the end and try and talk to Sidney then instead of waste his good time in the stuffy hall with hundreds of other suffering souls is because Sidney is writing with The Pen. The pen Geno has graciously lent him at the beginning of the two-hour hell when the sweet Omega had grown so adorably distressed because he had apparently forgotten his own pen and oh no Sidney how will you be able to take notes here better take one of mine yes really I’m sure here you go.

Seryosha had mocked him under his breath because apparently, Geno scrambling over three rows of crowded desks and almost falling over his own backpack to casually hold out the only single pen Geno had ever owned in his entire university life had not been a real smooth move.

Dick.

As if he knew.

As if he had any idea.

If he’d seen the smile on Sidney’s face or the soft blush on his round cheeks or had heard the stuttered thanks in that cute flustered voice, he would have understood!

There will be teasing he’ll have to endure later, but it is well worth it.

Sidney is somewhat of a legend on campus and one of the first things Geno learned about when he transferred some months ago. Captain of the varsity team, valedictorian of their year, volunteer at the local shelter, regular winner of dressing like a robber award in the unofficial college gossip newspaper.

As if dressing in unfitting, bland clothes will somehow hide all of… that.

They’ve exchanged words, once or twice. Or rather, sometimes Sidney talks at him, about a shared class or some team, and Geno will forget all his English and stare, probably like a bug-eyed creep, until Sidney wanders away again.

So he’s got that going for him…

Sasha had shown him a summary of thirst posts about Sidney’s… assets with so much manic glee once after tickling the secret of Geno’s little crush out of him and Geno had seen himself forced to delete Sasha’s final’s essay from his laptop two hours before the deadline.

(He’d given him the copied version he’d saved on a USB stick ten minutes before it was due because he’s not an asshole. That big of one, anyway. Also, because that Nicklas guy Sasha is friends with scares him. Not that Sasha didn’t totally have it coming, though.)

Anyway.

The sight of Sidney writing with his pen, his light blue pen with the broken off clip and scratched off font makes the Alpha in him purr and stretch contentedly. There’s just something about the sight of Sidney holding something that belongs to Geno that makes his hindbrain salivate and activate all the embarrassing Alpha instincts buried deeply in his chest, somewhere below that repressed memory of his grandfather walking in on him at 16 and his highschool talent show performance during which he tripped over the cables on the floor and tore his jeans. So there’s that.

It leaves him giddy and possessive, almost hot and as much as it soothes his inner Alpha it also wakes the hunger for more, to shower Sidney in things that belong to Geno, smother him in gifts and care and his scent and-…

A sharp elbow in his side tears him out of his little daydream.

The air around him is beginning to cloud with pheromones. His own, he notices sheepishly, other Alphas throwing him glares, Omegas close by shifting distractedly. Even Seryosha, who’s so used to Geno’s smell, is scrunching up his nose and turning his head away, jaw tense.

Embarrassing, to lose control of his scent like that, like a newly presented Alpha.

Geno’s eyes are drawn back to Sidney again, compact, cute Sidney whose ears are red and whose shoulders are drawn up and huh that’s interesting. He feels smug that his scent prods such an adorable reaction out of Sidney.

Sidney… ah, Sidney.

A look at the clock. Half an hour left.

Geno returns to his dramatic position on the desk and stares at the fluffy black strands of hair that curl at the nape of Sidney’s neck. They bop up and down with the jerky movement of his arm as he writes. He wonders what Sid would taste like, there, under his curls, where the skin is tanned and smooth looking and-...

Geno has to actively keep himself from thinking about that neck or jerky hand movements to prevent a repeat of the pheromone accident. Though it would be worth it to see if those ears would light up that enticing shade of red again.

Maybe later. Maybe once they are alone.

Nothing of the lecture has stuck in his brain by the time the bell finally rings and other students around him gather their things. He knows already that he’ll be cursing himself later during finals when he’s barricaded himself into one of the library’s corners, stewing over most likely Seryosha’ notes and understanding absolutely nothing. Oh well…

He casts another longing look at Sidney’s (very beautiful) head.

Worth it.

Geno stuffs his pullover and unopened notebook back into his backpack and stands, stretching his back just so that the slightest sliver of skin is visible over the waistband of his jeans just in case Sidney is looking. The Alpha inside of his chest purrs loudly when he does indeed meet skittish brown eyes that trail up over his chest and flee from his own when their owner finds himself being watched.

Alright. Geno’s practiced this in front of the mirror. He throws Sidney charming smile #4 and winks.

Sidney isn’t watching him anymore.

Instead, Sidney, sweet Sidney, is talking to Kris. Alpha, member of the photography club.

Genos’s mood sours as quickly as it had lifted.

And why would Sidney be talking to Kris when he could be looking at him, talking to him? Geno huffs out a breath of air and pulls his backpack up higher on his shoulder, leisurely walking down the steps of the lecture hall towards the pair. After all, Sidney still has his pen, right? He needs that pen. Now. Preferably before Kris can put that hand on Sidney’s shoulder!

(Also he really needs that pen because he only owns the one and he’s not gonna get laughed at by Sasha again when he inevitably steals one from the front office desk.)

Geno’s steps pick up and before he knows it, he’s rounded the last desk and casually joins the bubble of the two men. Well, it’s more Sidney’s bubble he’s joining.

“Hi!” There’s an awkward halting in the conversation and Geno’s smile grows wider and sharper with every second Kris’ hand keeps dangling in the air like a limp balloon between Sidney and him. Sweet triumph sings in Geno’s chest when Kris drops it and nods uncertainly, maybe to Sidney, maybe to Geno’s not so subtle please back off this is mine thank you. He prefers to think it’s the latter.

“…right. Right, uh… Your pen?” Besides him Geno can feel Sidney shift and when he chances a look down his face is flushed and his eyes are fluttering through the room like a scared little bird. Geno wants to wrap him up in several blankets and handfeed him Russian sweets while petting his head and telling him about how absolutely adorable he is!

Then Sidney looks up and their eyes meet and Geno is lost, can feel himself slipping and falling further and does nothing to prevent it. Sidney’s eyes are endless, cautious and so expressive at the same time, the soft brown brilliantly deep and drawing him in. Geno wants to make himself a nest in their depth and slowly unravel Sidney from the inside, wants to curl himself up in and around the Omega and be at peace there.

“Geno?”

Yes! That’s his name! His name on Sidney’s lips! His!

“Geno!”

He wonders if Sidney knows about Geno’s desire to show him what a perfect mate he’d be for him. How well Geno could take care of Sidney and his needs! He wonders if Sidney will allow him to prove it to him, if Geno were to ask him right now to please, please go out with me, let me buy you gifts and fall asleep with you, please let me court you, please. I have a grandma in Russia who sends me the good chocolate, I can provide for you!

“Earth to Geno?”

Geno startles, tries to catch himself smoothly against the edge of the nearest table and lands his hand smack dab in a puddle of… something. He grimaces and wipes it on his jeans. He’d… rather not now what that is. Ignorance is bliss, or whatever.

“Sorry, I’m…” say something that will impress him. “Very caught in, uh, Molyneux problem theory. Very interesting, uh, how he, uh. How he say that!” And that is precisely the reason he doesn’t talk around Sidney.

Sidney throws him a doubtful look over his backpack, though the corner of his lip twitches faintly, so Geno is cautious to count it as a victory.

“Really? I thought that was extremely boring, to be honest.”

“Oh God, yes, thank you. So boring? He not have any hobbies? Nobody love him, tell, ‘oh maybe go play outside, this not real problem’. If that his only problem, I’m like see him take SATs!”

Sidney’s hand is not quick enough to cover his mouth and the laughter that bursts out of him is so adorably strange yet flattering that all Geno can do is stand there and grin, like a stupid idiot probably. Had he counted the smile as a victory before, then he’s now high on triumph sticking his hands in his pockets to keep himself from doing something stupid, like hugging Sidney to his chest and not letting him go again.

Geno’s heart thumps heavily in his chest.

Now would be a good moment, he’s already talking to Sidney, he could just ask for one dinner.

And he’s definitely going to do it.

Once they are outside.

Totally.

They wander out of the classroom together, Sidney’s backpack bumping into his side with every step.

Yep, he’ll do it now.

“So, thanks again for the pen,” Sidney says, tugging on the straps hanging over his shoulders.

“Yep, sure, no problem.”

Sidney hesitates, then nods and takes a step back and Geno is an idiot. A huge, stupid, idiot. Maybe he could share some of his problems with Molyneux, because he has a lot of them!

“Okay, good. Well then, uh, see you next week?” Who’s he kidding, not even Molyneux would want his problems.

Sidney nods again, steps back, hesitates, then turns and sets off into the direction of the cafeteria.

And yeah, hate to watch you go, love to see you leave, or whatever, English, but man, he blew it. Totally combusted it.

Geno rolls his head back towards the heavens and groans his frustration at the century old gums stuck to the ugly white ceiling places when Sidney stops abruptly, then turns on his heel and marches up to Geno with an expression on his face that has Geno fearing for his bodily safety, for a short little second. He’s never going to admit that to Sasha.

“Actually, no.”

“No?”

“No! I’m not gonna see you next week. Well, no, uh, I guess I am. Unless you’re not coming? Oh man, what I’m trying to say is, I’m free this evening. And tomorrow. Wednesday is bad, because I have training then and Thursday is club meeting, but Friday would be good, unless you don’t want to watch the Habs game, then I’m busy because I really want to watch Carey Price and-...”

“Sidney-...”

“I want to go out with you. On a date!” Sidney stares up at him as if daring him to say no. His cheeks are an adorable pink, his lower lip an obscene red from his obsessive chewing and Geno is powerless against the slow smile spreading on his own.

“Tonight is good,” Geno says softly, catching Sidney’s fluttering hand in between both of his and giving him a slow, hopeful smile.

“Yeah? That’s… that’s good.”

They stand there, grinning at each other like lunatics, hands clasped between them. After a second they take a step back, probably because Sidney’s face looks like it’ll burst into flames any second now, dropping their hands to their sides. He can probably only stand so much soap opera behaviour.

(Sidney might have to get used to that. Geno has so many ideas stored in his head, he and his Alpha instincts have been holding back so badly, and he’s probably going to barf all of his gushy little feelings over Sidney’s weird cargo shorts.)

For now, Geno tugs him forward, towards the cafeteria, their pinkies brushing on every other step.

“I have grandma, in Russia. She send me very good chocolate!”

“Oh? Tell me more!”