#took on Dawn’s last name because he thought it suited him better

[peapod20001]

Rory has been haunting my brain recently. Like, a lot

[dulcewrites]

Oh yes yes! Arranged marriage then boom love! Kinda tiring with cheating😭 they would be too obsessed with the other to cheat because in their head, they are the only ones that can understand the other—Then Daella is born and their love reaches the peak because Daella is their girl, their light and they will kill for her 😍😭🥴

Awe yeah. Them both being a good place and genuinely wanting to make a child out of love.

BUT speaking of kids. Here’s the prenup (bc of course these coulple would have a prenup) talk pre marriage and killings

Take One for the Team

White was never your color. A bit too vulnerable and transparent for your liking. You’ve never felt more flayed out and bear than you did in your wedding dress.

“I think you look like a princess,” your niece was sitting crossed legged at her mother’s feet.

Your sister in law smiles and nods in agreement. You try to put a matching one on your face, but it falls flat. The private dressing room was sprawling and brightly lit; it swallowed whole with its grandiosity. You watch through the mirror as Sasha pull out an envelope from her bag.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but we really need to go over the prenup,” she grimaces at the hallow look in your eye. You give a curt nod.

“Melina!”

Sasha calls out, and a girl who can’t be older than nineteen sticks her head in the room, eyes wide with worry.

“Come and take her,” she gestures to Charlotte. She scurrries into the room to pick up Charlotte, who waves bye at you.

“I thought the nanny’s name was Melissa,” you ask once they leave the room.

Sasha tilts her head to side while thinking. She shruggs nonchalantly, before rolling her eyes. “Well, she answers to Melina.” She takes off her suit jacket before flipping through the pages. “Ok, so we left off on the alimony you would receive if.. you know. If the marriage makes it to five years, you get 7 million. If you make it to 10, you get 15.”

She seems please with the negations she did, not you cared in the long run. At the end of the day, you’re getting married.

“Oh, I even got them to throw in an extra million for ever many kids Aemond and you have by the time of said separation,” she beams.

A frown sets into your face. “They really expects me to have kids with him?”

Sasha’s brows shoot up in surprise at your question. “Honey, he probably expects to have children with him. Have the two of not talked about this?”

Children was never a topic of conversation for the two of you. But then again, most topics are left untouched between Aemond and you. You remember the last dinner you had with him. You stared at his hands for lingering seconds; it just dawned on you he was left handed. You knew so little about him, and you were expected, no told, to accept that he was going to be your life partner.

“Look, at the end of the day, your children will be Targaryens. Which for some reason is very important them,” she sighs. “When in doubt, get nannies.”

Strangely, it wasn’t the baby part that made you hesistant. You like kids. Well, you like Charlotte, and thought baby Amelia was precious. But that also could chalked up to Sasha and your brother making cute kids. It was the having kids with him that scared you. Then you’d really be…. stuck.

“Things could be worse,” they also could be better you thought. “You’re gonna have a fabulous wedding, a gorgeous island honeymoon, and when you get back, a new position in the company.”

She holds out the papers expectantly. You turn from the mirror and stare down at them. A part of you wants to laugh; it took getting married and possibly having kids to move up in your own family’s company, for your father to take notice of the work you put in. The irony.

You lift your dress up, and step down from the podium. Grabbing the pen out of Sasha’s hand. You sign away your freedom on the dotted line.

Everything comes with a price.

[cat3ch1sm]

Hey !

So ! Could we have a NSfW undertaker (from black butler) loving to look at him in his fem! Partner (reader) having sex. Like his partner doesn’t know that he loves it so he makes sure, a little sneakily, to stand in front of a mirror….

Thanks !!

🌲| here you are! sorry this took so long. i read somewhere that his actual name was Adrian Crevan, but that didn't seem to suit him, so i just went ahead and referred to him as his original title. however, the reader refers to him as "Adrian." i hope that is okay! i also apologize if i don't characterize him well :)) happy reading<33

"I can't tell you how thrilled I am that you're finally gonna let me try makeup looks on you! You never let me before."

You had your boyfriend by his wrist, excitedly pulling him along with you to the bathroom with your makeup kit in your other hand. The Undertaker behind you had a waning smile on his stitched face, sharp green eyes possessing their usual mischievous glint- although at this moment, it seemed to be brighter than usual.

What you didn't know right now was that Undertaker was... extremely horny. His pants were tight, his groin ached, and it was all he could do to keep his hair carefully draped over the tent in his pants so that you wouldn't notice.

However- he didn't intend to remain in this state. He wasn't chasing only after his own pleasure- he wanted yours as well. Undertaker wanted to feel your wetness around his throbbing cock, hear your soft little whines as you begged him for more.

But more than anything, he wanted to see you.

That was why Undertaker had finally decided to allow you to do his makeup (he normally wouldn't because he's fond of the scar across his face)- it meant going to the bathroom in which there was a mirror that he could fuck you in front of. It was actually one of his biggest turn-ons- but the thing was, you didn't know that, and he definitely didn't feel like explaining one of his kinks to you. So this makeup thing had been the perfect opening.

Meanwhile, he had to concoct a response.

"Of course, lovely- however, you wouldn't have left me alone, anyway, hm?"

You grinned, eyes squinting shut. "Nope!"

The two of you arrived at the bathroom door at last, you flipping the light switch up as you pulled Undertaker inside behind you, at last releasing his arm to dart over to the sink counter and begin setting up your supplies. Meanwhile, the door shut and locked behind the Undertaker, who coyly slipped away from the door and made his way behind you.

You, oblivious to the Undertaker's plans, were cheerfully sifting through your makeup products, looking for shades that you thought would suit your eccentric partner. "Hm... what do you think of a dark red lip tint?" you asked him absently, narrowing your eyes in concentration. "Or maybe a light pink would work better..." You pouted your lips in thought. "Hm.."

It was while you were wondering about what lip shade would suit the Undertaker best that you suddenly felt two slender hands make their way around either side of your waist, squeezing gently. Caught off guard, you gasped slightly, starting to turn around. "What-"

Before you could even begin your sentence, the Undertaker whirled your body around to face him, your pelvis brushing against the erection in his pants. Your back was arched slightly over the counter, lips parted in surprise and your boyfriend's silver hair spilling onto your body.

Your eyes widened as it dawned on you why he had suddenly been open to you doing his makeup. He never had any intentions of anything like that- obviously what he had in mind was a bit more carnal.

You blinked a few times before grinning knowingly and rolling your eyes. "Asshole- you were never going to let me do your makeup, were you?"

"Clever," the Undertaker smirked, his hands sliding down your waist and his long fingers hooking around the waistband of your skirt. "Turn around for me, will you, dear? I want you to look at yourself the entire time."

You scoffed and looked away, but you obliged anyway, facing your own flushed face in the mirror. Slowly, the Undertaker lowered your skirt down your legs until it was resting on the floor around your ankles before getting rid of your underwear in the same manner. Gingerly, he slipped one cool hand up your shirt to wrap it around your waist before leaning over your shoulder and turning his head to kiss your neck, his gray hair spilling all down your upper body. Immediately, you dropped your eyes, the sensation of his warm lips on your skin distracting you as you let out a soft sigh.

Even without looking, Undertaker somehow knew you weren't facing the mirror anymore, and lifted your chin with his other hand, his lips barely brushing the tip of your ear as he spoke. "Now, now, lovely, I do recall telling you to face the mirror- did I not?"

You nodded warily, reluctantly looking back up. Undertaker's lips spread into a wide grin that displayed his sharp teeth, nipping at your earlobe once before sucking the spot just behind your ear, making your last breath come out shaky. The hand that had been around your waist slithered down your stomach until his fingers were tracing over your moist sex. Sensing his hair, you started to look down, but remembered to keep your eyes straight ahead at the last second.

"My, my, wet already?" Undertaker chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin as he ran a single finger up your slit, making you gasp. "Don't forget, sweetheart- keep your eyes on your reflection." With that, he dipped his middle and ring fingers inside of you, eliciting a strangled cry.

His fingers at first moved slowly, teasingly, but as he watched your face begin to melt in the mirror Undertaker decided to move faster, relishing in the whimpers coming from you, a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. His thumb rose to your clit to brush over it gently with his fingers still pumping within you, your legs squirming as you tried to get out of his grip.

"Mm, Adrian-" You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, moving your hips with the Undertaker's fingers.

"There you go, my dear- move just like that for me." His other arm squeezed your waist roughly, preventing you from breaking free of his grip, the only movement you were able to make the one you were making now. But soon the Undertaker restricted that as well, forcing you to stay still while he only fingered you faster.

You had to drop your hand from your mouth to grip the counter, doing your best to keep looking in the mirror with the Undertaker's sly grin behind you. His hand was just a blur now; your moans increased in volume and your legs began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Ah, legs are shaking already, angel? Does it feel that good?" the Undertaker cooed mockingly. Your face was hotter than ever and it was all you could do to keep from shrieking.

"Oh, oh, fuck- Ad- Adrian, slow down-" You could hardly form a sentence, your breathing was so ragged. The pleasure was building up so rapidly that you were almost sure you'd come right there, and your sweaty, disheveled reflection only served to fluster you more.

The Undertaker, however, adored the feeling of your warm wetness engulfing his fingers and how your whines and pleas sounded- they were music to his ears. Of course, he didn't plan to only finger you- but to lengthen his fun (and your misery), he made a show of mulling it over.

"Hm? Slow down? Is that what you said?"

"Ye- ah! Oh- oh, fuck-"

The Undertaker tilted his head to one side, feigning confusion. "Darling, you have to know that I simply will not be able to understand you if you keep stuttering like that."

Eyes rolling back into your head, you made a half-hearted effort to squirm out of his steel grip but to no avail. "Slow- slow down, please-"

"Ah! That's what you're saying. Why did you not say that before? Slow down... I suppose I'll have to think it over a while..."

Your clit was swollen and achy, and you could feel yourself leaking around the Undertaker's fingers- you were already near overstimulated, and you had yet to even orgasm. Still, you couldn't manage to squeeze out another plea, lost in your constant whimpers and moans.

Oh, but how pretty you looked in such a state of disarray, glossy lips parted, hair sticking to your glistening face, your stomach heaving up and down. And the adorable flush on your face as he forced you to hold your own gaze in the mirror- the Undertaker hated for it to end, even for a second. But he wasn't finished yet, and he certainly wouldn't want you to come already before he even got to penetrate you himself.

"Well, alright- if you say so." The Undertaker withdrew his fingers abruptly, releasing your waist as well. Exhausted and legs still quivering, your body slumped, your breath short.

The Undertaker was appalled. "Spent already, lovely? I'm afraid that just won't do- now I need you to be a doll and bend over, alright?"

Still trying to catch your breath, you did so without a fight. Staring at your suddenly unfamiliar reflection in the mirror in front of you, you heard the Undertaker undress behind you before you felt his hands grip you firmly on the hips. You could only catch a brief glimpse of his bare legs and pale body before his eyes overtook you, glinting brighter than you'd ever seen them.

"Now- let's see how fast you can come, shall we, pretty?" the Undertaker laughed before spearing his length into you, ripping your breath away; you suddenly felt completely filled.

The Undertaker's pace quickened faster than you could register, and picking up where he left off, you were already close to orgasm, moaning more than before. Faint groans could be heard from the Undertaker as well as he pounded into you, barely allowing you time to recollect yourself from before as he chased his own release. You could almost feel him brush your cervix, whimpering frantically while the ecstasy overwhelmed you. You could feel his chartreuse eyes burning into you from the mirror, watching you as you approached your climax.

Finally, the knot that had been tightening in your stomach was ready to snap, and you managed a choked "Adrian, I- I'm going to-" before feeling your fluids spill all over his dick and drip down your inner thighs. Your vision went white for a split second, overstimulation setting in; the Undertaker did not let up one bit.

It was only after drool had begun leaking from your mouth and you could hardly stand that Undertaker finally came, his cum flooding your insides following a stifled groan. You felt that, too, slide down your legs, but you were far too exhausted to care, slumping over on the counter the second the Undertaker let go of your hips.

Your boyfriend seemed to gather himself more quickly than you did, moving towards you with a smirk as he promptly lifted you up by the waist and sat you down on top of the counter, ignoring the fact that he was still naked.

"You did quite well, my dear," Undertaker praised you, lifting your chin up with a single finger. "My, my I didn't imagine you'd be this fun to fuck in front of a mirror." He shook his head, letting his hair fall back in front of his eyes. Then, with a wide grin, he tapped his temple. "I wonder what the Phantomhive butler will think when I make a joke of this!"

[morganas-pendragons]

Nobility | Elijah Mikaelson

as I am writing this I am currently on 4x17 of the vampire diaries and I had a whole dream about this man last night that prompted me to write this fic. and he's hot. okay. I love the complexity of his character.

anyway, this isn't too long but I had to get this out. possible part 2 if you guys like it. enjoy!

***

He's not somebody worthy of being loved. He knows that. Someone who has committed the atrocities he did, someone who had lived a long enough life to be sure that he was at peace when death came for him.

Pushing people away is better. Mikaelsons are artists at that. When you have lived long enough to see the same eyes in different generations of people, it becomes difficult to allow yourself to feel things like what Elijah believes himself to be feeling right now.

Love, if memory serves him correctly.

You were just a simple person. Someone who didn't ask for a lot, someone who took joy in the little things rather than the things that often drew people to him and his brothers. Money. Extravagance. You were not interested in that.

You were just interested in him. The man across the cobblestone street who would simply stand by and watch you play violin from dawn until dusk. The way he would always smile when he thought you weren't looking and the way his eyes looked when the sunlight reflected off of them just the right way.

You found beauty in the every day. Him? He was ethereal, and that drew your attention.

He almost never approached you for the first several weeks that you took your street corner, but every time you came back from your breaks you found two hundred dollars in your violin case.

Generous and curious. Interesting.

The days that handsome stranger was there the most was when you played older music. It seemed to ring familiar to him. Like it reminded him of something better. When you recognized what his favorites were, you made an effort to play only those whenever he came around.

It's a shame he was drawn to you so easily.

"Excuse me?" That wonderful, brilliant accent rang clearly behind you as you turned away from the coffee stand parallel to your corner. "I thought I would formally introduce myself to you. My name is Elijah."

Of course you knew who he was. The Mikaelsons had only helped established New Orleans. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Mikaelson." You replied. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

He was handsome, dressed in that deep navy suit with the crisp white tie. Dressed immaculately and finely groomed. Someone definitely had an appearance to maintain.

"I'd rather you give me your name."

You smile around the plastic rim of your cup as you reply with your name. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles as he hears it. It's just as lovely as you are.

"And yours?" You ask.

"Elijah. Elijah Mikaelson."

***

Christmas came easily enough. Tips were always better around this time of year, and you were meant to be one of the featured violinists in the Christmas festivities on the square. People came and people went. You were always smiling. Always joyful.

The world had spared you from pain.

Or that was at least what Elijah thought.

"Where is this girl that you haven't stopped yammering on about?" Klaus remarked as the two of them moved down the cobblestone street in the direction of the Christmas lights and the smell of hot cocoa. "Because I have heard many a violinists in my day but with the way you talk about her-"

Elijah jabbed his brother in the side and pointed to the stage. There you were in all your glory, dressed in one of those typical Santa suits for women that was just a little bit too short and had that ridiculous hat. He'd never understood the purpose behind that story that catered to children's dreams.

"Her. That's her."

"Ah, I can see why you're drawn to her." Klaus murmured. "Innocence is not something we're accustomed to, brother."

Maybe that's why he was so drawn to you. You in all your innocent beauty, a simple human, someone he was so desperate to know to see if this one person... this one girl.... could help him believe the one thing about himself he's been trying so hard to deny.

After an encore, Elijah made his way down the center aisle of the rows of chairs that had been set up to greet you as you were putting your things away. "Hello dear." He greeted, to which you turned to gaze at him over your shoulder with that smile that was just a bit uneven but radiant all the same. "That was a wonderful performance."

Your reddened cheeks brightened at the compliment. You'd never been able to take praise well, but the constant compliments and obvious attention from such a well known, handsome man made them difficult to ignore. "You've been at all of them." You reply. It's hard to deny him when he offers you his arm, but you hook your case over your shoulder and take his offered arm as you begin walking back down the aisle. "I have to ask, Elijah. What is it about me that draws someone like you? I'm not anything special. Just a simple violinist."

He paused mid-step and hooked a hand around your waist to stop you before you could continue further. A soft gasp broke past your lips as your hand caught his chest, resting just above his heart as he met your eyes.

"Something I have realized in my life Is that someone like me needs a little bit of simplicity." Elijah paused. His fingertips dragged across your jaw and rested just against the curve of your lips as he leaned in, slow and gradual, before continuing, "And a little bit of innocence."

The first snowflake landed on your nose as you allowed yourself to be kissed. To be drawn in by him and surrounded by him.

It's like something straight out of a Christmas movie. And that is just one of the many dreams that a simple girl aches for.

Elijah Mikaelson. You murmur to yourself as you pull away and curl a hand at the nape of his neck. I want to know you.

"Mr. Mikaelson?"

"Dear," He said lowly. "I told you. Please call me Elijah."

"Alright then, Elijah." His heart nearly stopped in his chest when you linked your fingers through his own and tugged him back in the direction of the center of town. "If you are so set on knowing me, then I want to know about you."

He would've normally hesitated. Why would someone want to know the truth about him and his family? All the horrible things they'd done? The truth was not kind. The truth would drive you away.

Elijah didn't want to drive you away. He wanted you. But someone like you would never fall in love with someone like him.

And that would be the most difficult part.

But this? Listening to your laughter as you moved down the snow covered street, cobblestones slippery beneath your boots and hat loosely hanging on your head, you just looked so.. innocent. Free.

That was the most beautiful part of that Christmas.

***

It was late at night weeks later when Rebekah brought it up to you. Elijah was asleep across the couch from you, feet bare and suit jacket discarded as he slept with his chin propped against his knuckles. It was... oddly sweet.

"If you keep looking at him like that, he's going to wake up and then ask why you've been staring at him so hard for the last hour."

She laughed as you launched a pillow at her from across the room. "Rebekah, I told you... I can't tell him yet!" You hissed. You and the youngest sister of the Mikaelsons had gotten along rather well right from the start for one easy reason. You'd shown her compassion and treated her like a person. Not a monster. Elijah hadn't told you about his families atrocities other then the fact they were vampires and were over a thousand years old. That they'd only had each other. "How am I supposed to compare to anyone? You're all... you're all eternal and forever. I'm finite. I'll turn to dust."

"Maybe that's something he needs. We... really haven't been around humans. Not humans we liked. You have something we haven't seen."

You quirked a brow and pressed the pillow closer to your chest. Rebekah didn't continue as she watched your gaze turn back to Elijah before you were standing to your feet and quietly padding to the other side of the couch. Your hands slipped under his arms as you lifted his body just enough to slide your own behind it, resting the pillow against your chest for his head to rest there.

"I've been watching the three of you. Him since we met on the corner, you and Niklaus since he introduced me to you both." Your voice was soft as you ran your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, smiling as he eased into your touch. "And I've noticed things about you all. Things I've seen in humans that I didn't think I'd see in ageless vampires."

"You make being immortal sound prophetic."

You shrug. "I'm just someone who pays attention. I'm human, can you blame me? I'm curious."

Rebekah took a long sip of her brothers scotch before nodding for you to continue. "Well, go on then. Impress me."

"You're spiteful and hateful and bitter because you crave something you weren't shown as a child. Affection." The admission rolled off your tongue so effortlessly and the way Rebekah paled at it only further confirmed your point. "You don't know love, Bek. None of you do."

She shrugged as if it didn't matter, like that statement didn't cut her deep to her core. You'd seen the same reaction in Elijah and Klaus multiple times. Klaus was starved for the same thing. And Elijah... he just wanted to know he was a better man then he'd been led to believe.

"If memory serves right, which it usually does, my brother mentioned to me he didn't tell you about our family atrocities." She replied. "Believe me. You do not want to know our sins."

"I don't need to. I have eyes." You retort. "But I see you three. I get the feeling most people haven't. No one has ever taken the time to see you as people. You're vampires, sure. But you also used to be human and it still lingers." Rebekah's gaze is so.. soft. Like she's awed by you. According to Elijah, it's hard to get someone like Rebekah to like you. You had seemed to do the impossible. Niklaus... he was a bit of a different story. "Niklaus is cruel and cold, bloody and manipulative. I imagine that has something to do with the way your parents treated him. And Elijah..."

"He fancies you. You should've heard the first time he came home from the quarter and mentioned a brilliant, kind violinist he'd found." Your cheeks reddened as Rebekah grinned wickedly. "One who had been spared of pain. Which is funny. A simple human girl attracting an Original.. We should've seen it coming."

"Let me finish, stubborn woman!" You exclaim. "I don't know where you got the misconception I have been spared of pain. I have hurt. I have bled. I have lost. I've been on my own so long that I forgot what it was like to not be lonely anymore until I met him." Both pairs of eyes flicker down to the man sleeping against you. Part of you wondered if he was listening to everything you said. Maybe he wasn't sleeping at all, but it was nice to see him look so peaceful. "Elijah wants to be noble. He wants to be a man of honor. He considers himself noble because that's what he wants to be. He can't be like where he's from. Who he was. He wants to be better." A pause. "And I want to help him achieve that."

There was a long period of silence before Rebekah spoke, "And how do you plan to do that?"

"By asking him to turn me."

That's when his eyes open. The room is filled with the warmth of the fire and the sweet smell of your perfume, but his stomach rolls at the thought of taking away the one thing that makes you so unique compared to the other humans he's met.

What will make you more noble: Taking away her innocence, or leaving her with it?

Which will push her away?

Will it be worth it in the end?

***

He's not somebody worthy of being loved. He knows that. Someone who has committed the atrocities he did, someone who had lived a long enough life to be sure that he was at peace when death came for him.

Pushing people away is better. Mikaelsons are artists at that. When you have lived long enough to see the same eyes in different generations of people, it becomes difficult to allow yourself to feel things like what Elijah believes himself to be feeling right now.

Love, if memory serves him correctly.

He doesn't know if he'll ever get that again.

[dauntless-gothamite]

Prove Them Wrong [1/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter.  A/N: hey, everyone! so some elements of this are based on myself and how I interact with people, mainly because I tend to bond with people who are not well-liked (i.e. I got along well with teachers everyone hated, consistently). I plan to keep most descriptions of the reader vague so you can insert yourself, though! this first chapter is a little bit slow, but I am already well into writing chapter 2, and I am really excited about where this fic is going! Enjoy!!

“Dauntless!” Marcus Eaton called out--Abnegation was hosting the Choosing Ceremony this year--and as your blood hit the burning coals, a series of cheers and claps erupted from the fearless faction. You took your place next to the other Dauntless transfers and snuck a glance at your family. Your parents looked sad--disappointed, almost--but it was nothing compared to the way some parents reacted to their children choosing another faction. Your father caught your eye as he pulled a handkerchief from his crisp blue suit and handed it to your mother, who was just barely containing her tears. Quickly, you looked away. A moment later, a girl with dirty blonde hair sat down beside you. Her loose grey clothing indicated she was in Abnegation, or at least she had been. She was Dauntless now, and so were you. 

A series of names you only half heard filled the room, and before you knew it, the ceremony was over. Then, as if they’d been waiting for the chance to get up from their seats, all the Dauntless rushed out of the building, racing for the train tracks. You and the other initiates stared at them as they began to climb, shocked. Sure, you knew you’d be taking the train, but you’d never thought about how you’d actually get there. Shoving the thought out of your mind, you began to climb, the Abnegation girl from before and a girl from Candor scaling the poles on either side of you. Once you made it to the top, you saw everyone standing in a line, facing away from the train. That’s when it hit you: they were going to run and jump onto the train. This was unlike anything you’d ever done, but it was exciting, and you knew that with the right speed and angle, you’d be fine. When the rails started to vibrate and the train came into view, you took off. 

You weren’t the fastest, but you weren’t the slowest either, and that was worth something. At the very least, you would make the train. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw an opening, and without hesitation, you jumped. It was so different from life in Erudite. There, nothing was done without consideration. You had to look at a problem from all angles and weigh the possibilities, consider the outcomes of every scenario, even for the simplest of tasks. Here, you could just do. It was liberating, and you knew you’d made the right choice. Although, it would be damn near impossible to drop all of the habits you’d picked up in Erudite. Some aspects of the scholarly faction were simply a part of you; it would be impossible to erase that. But, for the sake of your survival, you’d have to do your best. 

“Hey,” said a voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a boy with brown hair and dark eyes, which stood out against his pale skin. “I’m Albert,” he said. “But everyone calls me Al.” He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, glad to have already made one friend. You smiled before turning away to look out at the city; the train provided a great view when it wasn’t in the center of the city surrounded by buildings. While you were looking at the skyline, you saw movement and heard screams of both terror and excitement to your left. You turned to see what was causing the commotion, and you saw people jumping from the train onto a gravelly roof. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Al said as he joined you at the edge of the train. 

“This is crazy,” you agreed. But whereas Al looked terrified, you were grinning, adrenaline from boarding the train still pumping through your veins, making you aware of each and every nerve in your body. Then, with the roof coming up, you took a few steps back, ran forward and jumped. 

Your body hit the gravelly roof hard, ripping a hole in your blazer. Thankfully, it seemed like that was the only thing that broke; your body felt perfectly fine, if a little sore from the impact. You looked around to see Al a few feet away from you, and you smiled, glad he’d made it. The two of you got up and headed to the other end of the roof, where the initiates who had already jumped off the train stood facing a tall man with cropped hair and neck tattoos. “Alright, listen up,” the man said when the last car of the train passed the edge of the roof. If someone wasn’t off of it yet, there was only one stop for them now: factionless. “I’m Eric, one of your leaders here at Dauntless. I will also be overseeing your training, which began the second your blood hit the coals. So, rather than waste any more time, let's get on with it. You want to get into Dauntless, this is the way in. Who is going to jump first?”

At this point, everyone was peering over the ledge Eric stood on, more focused on what was behind him. A dark hole in the concrete far below where we stood. You looked around you, nodding at Will, who you knew from Erudite, happy to see a familiar face amongst all this chaos. As you moved towards him, the girl from Abnegation who had sat next to you earlier stepped forward. “Me,” she said, volunteering to jump first. Everyone looked around with wide eyes while Eric scoffed. 

“The Stiff? Alright.”

Unbothered, the girl stepped onto the ledge, and a few seconds later, she disappeared into the shadowy depths of whatever lay below.

Watching the girl in grey jump first had sent a shock of surprise through you, but it was followed by something new, the desire to try this new and dangerous thing before you, and as the third jumper stepped off the ledge, you found yourself stepping forward, volunteering to go next. As you stepped onto the ledge, Eric raised a pierced brow at you, waited a few seconds for the previous jumper to get off of the net, and jerked his head towards the net, motioning for you to jump. And then, in a silent response, you jumped, a smile unexpectedly gracing your lips as you made contact with the net below, landing with a bounce. You turned to the man standing next to the net who helped you out of the net, and he introduced himself as Four before directing you to stand in line with the other initiates who had already jumped. Minutes crawled by as you waited for the rest of the initiates to jump, and after what felt like forever, Eric landed in the net and directed his cold stare at the initiates lined up as he slid off the net without Four’s assistance--though it didn’t seem like Four was inclined to help him, either. Interesting. 

--

The transfer dorm was small, crowded, and damp--somehow it was exactly what you expected and entirely different at the same time. As everyone claimed a bed, Four and Eric stood near the door, ready to make an announcement. You smiled at the Candor girl with short, black hair who was setting up the bed next to yours, about to introduce yourself when one of the trainers by the door--most likely Eric--cleared his throat, silencing the room. “Welcome to Dauntless, Eric said. “As Four just explained, this is where you will be staying for the next few weeks while you complete your training. You will receive more information about the training process tomorrow morning at the first session, but for now all you need to know about it is that the training room is three floors up, down the hallway, and to the left. Meet in the Pit, which is upstairs, in fifteen minutes for some announcements from Max and dinner.” Then, he left.

“That guy is all business, huh?” the girl you were about to introduce yourself to said lightly. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Christina,” she replied with an outstretched hand. As you shook her hand she looked you over and said, “So, Erudite. What made you want to transfer?”

“Well, it is best for one to go to a place for which they are well-suited…” you trailed off. “What about you, Candor?”

“Candor is a place of words and action, with slightly more words. I wanted more action,” she shrugged. A thud on the bed on your other side distracted you before you could respond, and you turned around to see familiar light green eyes.

“Will!” you said, wrapping your fellow Erudite transfer in a brief hug. You’d vaguely registered his name at the choosing ceremony followed by the word “Dauntless”, but it hadn’t really dawned on you until now that there were fellow Erudite transfers here. “Have you seen Edward?” you asked.

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” Will replied, pointing to the corner of the room. You waved at Edward, and he smiled back as he continued setting up his bed. 

“Amazing,” you said softly, more to yourself than to Will. “By the way, this is Christina, she’s from Candor,” you said, remembering your new friend. Will shot her a smile, and Christina reached out to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said enthusiastically. 

“Likewise,” Will replied. Seeing all of your fellow transfers getting to know each other was exciting, and even though you wanted to stay in this room with all of them and get to know everyone else, you knew it was a better idea to start making your way to the Pit; there was rarely a time when showing up early was a bad thing, and leaving early would make sure you got there in time even if you got lost along the way. As you started to head out down the hallway, the former Abnegation joined you, seeming to have the same idea. “Hi,” you said, introducing yourself. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Tris,” she replied quietly. “You were in Erudite, right?” she asked.

“I was. And you were in Abnegation?”

“Yeah.” There was something sad about the way she said it, but you decided to let it go; you didn’t really know her yet. As you were thinking of what to say next, Tris interrupted your thoughts saying, “My brother just transferred there. To Erudite, I mean.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll love it,” you said, smiling fondly as memories of the Erudite libraries surfaced in your mind. “You get to spend so much time learning and teaching others, and they actually respect personal space--at least a little bit. I’ll even let you in on a secret: the suits are much more comfortable than they look, I promise.” She laughed a little bit at the last statement, and you relaxed, starting to enjoy her company. 

--

As it turned out, you and Tris had no trouble finding the Pit, and it wasn’t surprising that you were the first ones there. Both of you sat down, and you did your best to ignore the occasional looks from Four and Eric as they stood on a balcony overlooking the Pit with Max, the head of Dauntless leadership and the faction’s representative when the five factions held council, and talked amongst themselves. Soon, thankfully, a few more of the transfers sat down with you and Tris, and they were soon followed by a steady trickle of transfers, the room getting louder with each person who entered. Max walked to the edge of the balcony and called for everyone’s attention, and the room got quiet, a nervous excitement filling your body. 

“Welcome, initiates,” the leader’s low voice filled the room. “We are glad to have you here at Dauntless. Here, you will be trained to be protectors of our city. You will be tested physically, emotionally, and mentally, and it will be hard, but you will come out stronger and braver, which is what you need to be to survive in this faction. Your training starts tomorrow; you will be working with Four and Eric, the initiates who aren’t transfers will be working with Lauren. For now, dig in, you’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.” Cheers erupted across the room, and people got up to grab food before racing back to their new friends. This was the beginning of something new for everyone, and excitement raced through your veins. You were ready to start your new life.

[td-scenarios]

How they react to seeing their S/O crying

First scenarios are a go!

Cody

Will most definitely start panicking at your status and start asking you various questions.

“Are you okay? Did I do something? Do you need space? Should I hug you? Do I need to punch someone?” And you better believe he’ll do that last one based off that one scene of him and Duncan in World Tour.

Goes and brings his stash of candy to you for you to enjoy

If you don’t need space at the moment but instead comfort, you better believe this boy will turn into the biggest cuddlebug. His arms just wrapping around your entire body and him resting his head into the crook of your neck. Would totally start kissing you all over the face until you smiled and were laughing as you told him to stop in a lighthearted manner

Trust me, Cody is not leaving until there’s a smile on your face. Even if you ask for some space he’ll be sending you memes or stupid little drawings.

Also would totally do the really cheesy thing of wiping away your tears and resting the palm of his hand on your cheek so that you can lean into it.

Scott

Doesn’t really understand what’s going on at first. He’s clever, but he ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed at times.

“Why are you crying? It better not be somethin’ stupid, cuz, ya know, back on the farm-” cue you punching him in the face or on the shoulder

That’s when he’s like ‘Oh fuck, something is ACTUALLY wrong. Oh no this is a time where  I have to step up as a boyfriend oh no oh no’

Him awkwardly being all “So....um....what’s wrong?”

His face absolutely breaking upon seeing your shattered expression. Protective boyfriend mode = activated.

“Did someone hurt you? Babe, you better believe that I’ll go and make their life a living hell, trust me.” And then you just slowly shaking your head no and leaning your head onto his chest, which just makes this big softie melt.

Y’all cuddling for a long time until you eventually fall asleep on him and he’s just brooding on the fact that if someone did cause it, he really was gonna go and  beat them up, He doesn’t make idle threats, but for now, it’s just calm between the two of you.

Brick

He gets back from running one of his bi-hourly jogs with Jo to see your form shaking from under a blanket in the cabin. Since you’re under the blanket, he can only assume you’re not cold and immediately comes to the conclusion that you are upset

“Y/N! What has got you feeling so blue right now?” He would try to lower his voice for you, but his same tone only wavers a bit. Habits and all that.

You already know that this sweet boy will drop whatever other plans he had for today to stay in the cabin and comfort you until you were better.

He’d try to suggest going outside and getting some fresh air, but you two would go out for a bit and you’d either see the person who upset you or get reminded of your homesickness or whatever else made you sad, so you two would just go back inside.

Brick being Brick would probably find a way of accidentally making you laugh and he’ll just continue with that until you forgot why you were sad in the first place. 

Mike

Taking a break from the others, Mike finds you sitting on a rock near the beach with your head buried into your folded arms. He instantly comes jogging up to your side and sits across from you, gently saying your name which gets you to look up. When you ask for alone time, he softly shakes his head.

“I can’t leave you until I make sure you’re okay, Y/N. You know me, it’s good knowing that the people I care about are good.” Those words kind of put a smile on your face as you look at the gap toothed boy.

Mike counts this as the start of working your mood back up. He wouldn’t want to make you more sad by making you talk about what upset you, so instead he decides to start telling you funny stories of shenanigans his alters have caused.

“They’re quite the cast! I remember when Manitoba was really proud of himself for digging up some new material, but the guy was already a little bit tired so instead he was just holding some dried cow patty! Vito wouldn’t let him live it down for weeks!” More and more stories of that caliber, all of which would make you giggle in some way or another.

At some point, Mike ends up wrapping an arm around your shoulders and it’s become night time so you’re both just looking up into the stars. A nice serene way to forget about what was plaguing your mind earlier

Dakota

“O M G, babe, are you okay? Your skin is getting a little blotchy.” You would wince a little bit at that prompting her to apologize as you wipe one side of your face with your hand.

The blonde would sit next to you on the cabin bed and ask that you “spill the tea, sugar.

After telling her what’s wrong, she insists on taking care of you for the rest of the day. Bringing you any food she can scour off the island, asking the other teens of the cast to leave the two of you alone, and once your crying dies down a bit she starts doing your makeup.

“I like doing your makeup so much because it gives me a great view of your gorgeous face.”

This comment of Dakota’s immediately gets the waterworks started up again.

She starts panicking, thinking she said something wrong while carefully putting her makeup brushes down. You just shake your head and hug her tightly, to which she’s confused about, but reciprocates anyways.

Leshawna

This girl immediately hugs you as soon as she sees how distressed you are. She gives the best hugs ever, I would know, Fresh TV told me.

“Alright baby, tell me what’s got your feathers in a bunch! Leshawna will make all the problems go away.” Her voice is so calming at that point that you break down even more and choke out what’s been bothering you.

If it is someone, she would definitely start making threats, but wouldn’t dare to leave you alone in this state, so whoever did this to you would definitely get some knuckle sandwiches later.

The girl would take you back to her cabin and lay both of y’all down on her bed and softly sing to you (even if it’s not the best, it’s endearing.) Until you fall asleep in eachother’s arms.

Leshawna would be the first to wake up and would smile upon seeing your face, now with a soft smile instead of the heartbreaking expression it carried mere hours before. You were definitely her everything.

Heather

She really wants to keep up her mean façade like she does in front of everyone and say “ew, you’re showing emotions right now?” or something like that, but she decides that she could never do that to you. Even if anyone else was watching her at the moment.

Heather would take a seat next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Tell me what’s up.” And before you could say anything she interrupts, “and no, I won’t tell anyone what you tell me. I would never.” She made sure to keep both her hands up so you could see that she wasn’t crossing her fingers.

You let out a sigh and then hesitantly began telling her what’s up.

“Are you kidding? Hun, you need to put your game face on! Come with me.” She then grabs your hand and takes you around to do calming activities all around the island. Being bitchier to everyone else, but the most soft, kind, caring person in the world for you. She doesn’t let go of your hand at all just to let you know she’s there.

At the end of your day together, your tears long forgotten, both of you sat on a blanket watching the sunset, she looks over at you. “You ready to go kick some loser butt?” She says with a smirk, you sniffle a bit and nod yes. “Cool, lets go.” Her hand finally leaves yours, which saddens you, but she waits for you so you can head back to camp together. Who knew you could go a whole day with your girlfriend without her being TOO focused on the million?

Dawn

You thought you had found a quiet spot to let your feelings free under a shaded tree that may be capable of eating you any second, but how wrong you were. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a familiar soft voice speak, “your aura is stained with anguish. What is plaguing you so?”

Dawn’s statement startled you out of your tears for a bit until you began to explain to her what had happened with a shaky voice and it all became too much so you stopped talking.

The look on her face gave away that she knew more than she let on.

“Here Y/N breathe with me.” You would give her a confused look but go along with it since your girlfriend was weirdly knowledgeable in some areas.

“Very good. You’re shaky, but there’s nothing your position won’t fix. Here follow what I do.” Dawn got into a position perfect for breathing exercises and you followed suit. “Your chakras will align in the median in your body and your mind will be freed of its chains, do not be afraid.” She repeated the affirmations in a hushed tone as you two breathed with one another.

It was actually pretty calming. The sounds of the toxic island along with Dawn’s hushed voice made for the perfect aura around you two and you can’t remember a time when you have felt so at peace.

“I can sense that your aura is back to its normal state. Are you feeling any better?” The different words took you out of your zen and you looked up at her and nodded, which made her smile.

“That is nice to hear. Would you like to go look at the flowers with me?

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part two

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 5.8 k

genre: forbidden love. angst, extreme fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (sex is discussed but not described), strong language, alcohol and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! thank you to anyone who read part one, and liked it enough to continue with part two hehe. the plot really picks up here, and i’m quite excited about it. once again, i love hearing feedback, so don’t be shy in leaving me an ask or message :)

previous chapter.

...

..

.

You were careful. In the beginning, at least. For the first few weeks of carrying your secret, you only met Felix after hours, and only at your home. You’d leave at different times, and you both never spoke a word of what you were doing to anyone.

It was a safe play. A smart one. But as time went on you became sloppy. It started on the day Felix’s roommates would be gone for the entire weekend.

You were both lying in your bed, the rainy Sunday morning having trickled by in a lazy, melancholic fashion. These were your favourite days, the ones in which he’d arrive just before dawn and leave near dusk. 

You’d gotten used to his presence around your apartment, his absence painfully noticeable during the days you found yourself cooped up there alone. You liked when he was there, even when you weren’t talking, lounging on the couch in silence with your feet intertwined as you caught up on your required reading. Or when sometimes he’d cook for you, baking you sweets as you were stressed out over a paper that’s due date was much closer than you’d realized. Him simply being around granted you comfort, a sense of companionship, something you hadn’t felt for a long time.

You couldn’t deny that Felix Lee had nestled himself into your life, and you’d be a liar to say you weren’t enjoying it. Being with him made you love the creature you were, seeing the way your feeding affected him, the way it set the two of you on fire. Forgetting for a moment how restrictive your life truly was, how exhausting and lonely it often happened to be. 

Looking back, perhaps that was the entire problem itself. That wasn’t something you should so easily forget, no matter how tempting it may be.

“Come on,” Felix whined, tracing shapes along the bare of your back with his finger. “They won’t be there all weekend, it won’t be any different then when we’re here.”

He was trying to convince you to come spend the following weekend at his apartment, as his roommates were leaving on a ski trip and wouldn’t be back until Monday morning.

“Well, if it won’t be any different then why should we bother risking it?” You returned. In truth, you really did want to go spend time at his place. It felt like the next step in your relationship, however strange and complicated it may be. You weren’t sure if “relationship” was even the right term for whatever you two were, but you didn’t want to overthink things too much. For now, all you wanted was to enjoy this while it lasted, as deep down you knew it couldn’t be forever. 

“Because,” he mumbled, rolling you over to face him. This wasn’t going to help your willpower, you’d come to find you just couldn’t say no to those dark, curious eyes. “I feel like I’ve really gotten to know you these last few weeks. I mean, I’ve seen your life. Your room, your book and record collections, what you keep stocked in your refrigerator. I guess I just want to share my space with you too.”

You groaned, shifting downwards to bury your face in his chest. “Well that’s not fair. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Exactly, you can’t,” he laughed.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know. Sorry.”

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll head over Friday night then.”

“See, I knew you’d come around,” he smiled, his voice light with enthusiasm. However, you couldn’t ignore the weight of anxiousness bubbling in your chest. You looked up at Felix, and you knew that he could see it written on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, methodically running his fingers through your hair, something he’d learned would help calm you down whenever you were stressed. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

~~~~

Felix did, in fact, make it worth your time. When you arrived at his doorstep the following weekend, you were surprised to find the door unlocked. Carefully, you twisted the knob, peeking inside.

It was safe to say you were surprised.

The apartment was entirely candlelit, the smell of rose scented candles mixing with that of whatever Felix was presently cooking in the kitchen. The table was done up in a way that reminded you of a cheesy Italian restaurant, with a checkered red tablecloth, two glasses for wine, and a rose stationed in the middle.

Felix emerged from the kitchen, a wide, toothy grin on his face. He was wearing an apron, patterned with an alarming amount of cartoon kittens, over what appeared to be a rather expensive suit.

“I feel like I’m underdressed,” you stated, unable to mask the pure awe in your voice. Nobody, not even Chan, had done anything like this for you. Not to mention the fact that you and Felix weren’t even dating… 

Were you? This seemed like an awful lot of effort to put in for someone you were only hooking up with.

“Nah, you look great. Don’t worry about it,” Felix said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll take your jacket Mademoiselle.”

You laughed, taking off your overcoat and handing it to him. “That’s French. I thought you were going for Italian,” you joked, attempting to hide the warmth flooding to your cheeks.

“Shhh,” he said, setting your jacket down on the couch before putting his hands on your shoulders. “Just let me have this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You felt oddly shy, surrounded by such a scene. 

“Well if you’ll take a seat, I can show you what I’ve been making in the kitchen,” he said, moving towards the table and pulling out the chair. You complied, sitting down and shifting your focus to the wonderful smell wafting in from the kitchen. 

Felix disappeared before appearing with two plates, setting one down in front of you. “Shrimp Scampi,” he clarified. You glanced up at him and you could tell he was slightly nervous. Knowing Felix, he was probably worried you wouldn’t like it.

How someone could possibly not appreciate all of this, was entirely beyond you.

You decided to reassure him. “It looks amazing, Felix. All of this,” you said, gesturing to the room around you. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did this, it's so… unbelievably sweet.”

“Well,” he said shyly, removing the apron and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “I knew you were worried about coming over here. So, I guess I just wanted to make it the best I could. Less terrifying and more something you’d really enjoy. You know?”

If your cheeks weren’t red before, they certainly were now. It took everything in you not to lean over the table and kiss him right then and there.

He grabbed a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet behind him, pouring the liquid into your glass. “White wine?” You questioned with a smirk. “I thought you would have gone with red.”

He chuckled, beginning to fill his own. “I thought about it, but it felt a little too cliche. Besides,” he said, corking the bottle and setting it back down on the table. “White goes better with seafood.”

You picked up your glass, taking a small sip. “Pinot grigio?”

He raised his eyebrows, smirking. “A bit of a wine connoisseur, are we?” 

You laughed. “Something like that.” 

Truth be told, you weren’t. Frankly, you’d always much preferred scotch. However, Chan was big on wine. From the two years you’d spent together, you’d managed to pick up a thing or two.

The rest of the dinner passed smoothly. The food was delicious, the wine smooth, the conversation breezy. You’d calmed down from the initial shock of it all, and had settled back into the comfortable atmosphere you and Felix had developed over the past few weeks.

After you’d both finished your meals, he rose to his feet, setting your plates down on the kitchen counter before disappearing around the corner, into the living room. You were wondering if you should follow him, when suddenly classical music started to fill your ears.

You rose to your feet, peering around the corner to see Felix stationed beside a record player. He smiled, before extending a hand out towards you. “Come on, dance with me.”

“You sure are cheesy today, huh?” You laughed, taking his hand anyway. You laid your head against his chest, the two of you swaying gently, a sorry attempt at a Waltz. 

The music from the record filled the room, the notes dancing along with the two of you, a symphony of affection. You quickly recognized the piece as The Four Seasons.

“Vivaldi is my favourite composer,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I know, you told me a while ago,” he spoke quietly.

“Ah,” you said, smiling to yourself over the fact he remembered. “I’m surprised you have a record of him, I know you aren’t the classical type.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he laughed. “It’s actually one of my roommates.” 

“I see. What are they like?” Even with all the time you’d spent together, you and Felix had never talked about the people in your personal lives. 

“Hmm,” Felix hummed. Although he didn’t say anything, you could tell he was happy that you asked. That you were slowly breaking the barrier you’d put around yourself. 

“Well, Han- that’s whose record this is- he’s... well he’s loud, but I think you’d really like him. He’s studying music theory, wants to be something of a composer himself. He’s a bit messy, but if you harp on him enough he’ll keep his shit clean.” 

“He sounds nice,” you offered kindly. “What about your other one?”

“Ah, yeah. Changbin. His name is Changbin,” Felix said, but you could tell there was something off about his tone.

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s going through a lot right now. But normally he’s the coolest. He’s also in music theory, so he and Han help eachother out a lot. He’s the type to bring you food when you’ve been working on a paper all day, because he knows you’ve forgotten to eat. Always there for you, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” you said. Talking about Changbin seemed to make Felix nervous, based on the way he wouldn’t meet your eye and the apprehension in his voice. You could bet it had to do with whatever Changbin was going through at the moment, but despite your curiousness you decided to drop it. It wasn’t any of your business.

The two of you swayed in silence for a few moments. There was nothing left to say on the matter.

“You know,” you said suddenly. “You said you wanted to show me your space, but I still haven’t seen your bedroom.”

Felix smirked. “Ah, I guess you haven’t. Why, you impatient for something?”

You laughed, looking up at him. “Get your head out of the gutter, Lix. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhm. Yeah, sure you don’t,” he returned, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway to your left. He stopped, turning to open a door that was currently covered in a rather elaborate arrangement of animal stickers. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Oh right, the stickers,” Felix said, smacking his forehead with his palm. “Han thought it would be funny, but now I can’t get them off.” 

You smiled. Felix was right, you and Han would probably get along. 

The inside of Felix's room was oddly exactly how you had imagined it. Books were stacked neatly on the desk in the corner, ranging from academic texts to various manga. Posters hung on the walls, representing different music artists, some you recognized and others you did not. He had a nintendo switch tossed on his night stand, and plants hanging in the window. The room, while packed, was clean and well in order. An organized sort of chaos.

You laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. You felt the mattress sink slightly as he laid beside you.

“Do you like it?” He whispered.

“I do. It’s very you.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, rolling onto his side to face you. His fingers wandered in the air for a moment, before finding themselves placed against your cheek. Gently he stroked his thumb back and forth along your jawbone. 

You smiled, leaning into his touch, placing your own hand in his hair. “I feel like dessert,” you stated.

Felix’s cheeks warmed. “I made brownies,” he mumbled, his gaze deepening. “But something tells me that’s not what you have in mind.”

~~~

It was not what you had in mind, and you’d gone far beyond merely explaining that to Felix. The two of you were tangled together beneath his sheets, his head resting on your chest. The room was dark, preventing you from seeing the details of his face, only the shadows and the curve of his jaw visible in the moonlight. 

“Felix?” You whispered, wondering if he was awake.

“Mmm?” He mumbled, clearly only half-conscious. 

“You know I can’t give you more than this, right? We’ll always have to sneak around, keep us a secret. It’ll never be easy.”

“I know.”

“And you’re really okay with that?”

He reached for your hand, allowing your fingers to intertwine. “If it means I have you, I’ll manage.” 

A moment of silence passed by, as you were unsure of what to say, but something inside of you stirred. Something deep and warm, coming back to life.

“Y/N?” He asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. 

“Yeah?”

“Do I have you?”

“Of course, Lix,” you smiled, finally allowing your eyes to close, putting your mind to rest. “I’m all yours.”

    ~~~~

The following morning you awoke to the sound of rain pattering against the window, Felix still sleeping soundly against your chest. Carefully, you moved his head to the pillow, sliding out from under him and emerging into the hallway.

The apartment felt eerily quiet. You never found yourself in an unfamiliar place in the mornings, and the urge to evacuate and run back to your apartment was more tempting than you would’ve liked to admit. You wouldn’t, of course. Felix had put in the effort to make you feel comfortable, to feel at home. You would honour that, no matter how slightly terrifying it might be.

You wandered into the kitchen, noticing a container full of brownies set on the counter. You smiled, those were supposed to be eaten yesterday, before, well… 

You opened the package taking a bite of the sweet, before spitting it out in shock.

The apartment door swung open wildly, a boy with brown hair and chubby cheeks storming inside, a thick cast around his wrist. He threw his backpack onto the couch, letting the ski’s he was carrying clatter against the wall.

“Felix, you will not believe how bad the hill was. There was hardly even any snow, and the amount of rocks? It was like they wanted me to break my arm! Believe me, you made the right call opting out, it was not worth the drive-”

The boy stopped, his eyes bulging as he finally realized you were in the room. His silence made you quickly realize that you were only sporting one of Felix’s shirts, and while it covered you fine, it told an obvious tale. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Hi!” He said, his mind finally catching up on the situation. 

Alright, this was it. Clearly you and Felix weren’t a secret anymore, at least not with his roommates. Now you had to decide how you were going to play this out. Your mind was buzzing. You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this was dangerous. You fucked up. It was over for you. You were screwed. 

Attempting to settle your racing mind, you decided to make an effort at being friendly for now. 

“Hi,” you smiled, moving behind the kitchen table to cover your legs. “I’m assuming you’re Han?” 

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He laughed.

“Felix mentioned you were a tad… charismatic.” 

Han chuckled. “Did he now? I’ll have to pay him back for that. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name-”

Felix burst out of the hallway, his hair a disheveled mess and shirt only half buttoned. “Han! You’re back early!” 

He looked at you, and while you wanted to be furious at him, planned to make him regret getting you to come here, the look of guilt in his eyes stopped you before you could even begin. It were as if the words “I’m Sorry” were branded to his forehead, his features solemn with remorse.

“We have to get out of here,” you thought. “We have to talk about this, figure out what the hell to do.”

“Wait, what did you do to your arm?” Felix asked, just noticing the thick cast.

“Ah,” Han said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm. “I wiped out. Like I said, the hill was bad. Not enough snow and too much ice. I slid into a rock and, well… Doctor said I have to keep this on for the next 5 weeks, which blows, obviously,” he motioned to the cast, shrugging his shoulder helplessly. 

Before you could get a word in, he continued. “Oh, have you guys eaten yet? Changbin’s just grabbing-”

Felix quickly cut him off. “We were actually just about to go get something to eat.”

Han raised an eyebrow, glancing from Felix, who looked like he just stumbled out of a 2 year coma, to yourself, who was certainly in no position to walk out the door.  “You were?”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. “I’m just going to, uh, get changed, and then we’ll be out of your hair,” you said, rushing past them and into Felix’s bedroom.

You shut the door behind you, leaning up against the frame before taking a deep breath. Okay, you could do this. You’d make a quick exit, then you and Felix could sort out what to do next. Maybe he could tell them you were just a hookup. But would that look too suspicious? Did they notice he’d been sneaking out almost every night? If they did that would only cause more problems. 

God, this was a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have come, you shouldn’t have come, you shouldn't have come- 

“Y/N?” Felix called, knocking on the door. “Are you almost ready?”

“Y-yeah!” You called back, cringing at the waver in your voice. You had to get yourself together. You threw on your jeans from the following day, tucking in Felix’s button up and bounded towards the door.

“Alright, I’m ready,” you said, bouncing back into the living room. However, you were surprised to be greeted by someone new. The boy was standing beside Felix and Han, whispering in a rushed, as well as undeniably angry tone. 

More surprising yet, and perhaps unsettling as well, he was glaring at you. No, glaring wasn’t the right word. His eyes screamed bloody murder, his jaw locked, entire body was rigid with a stiffness only produced by vile distaste. It was that look of hatred, that familiar spiteful glaze, which immediately made you recognize him.

“I’ve seen you at the library before,” you stated, taking note of how his eyes widened slightly at the sound of your voice.

The boy cleared his throat. “I don’t think so,” he stated, which was an obvious lie. He’d visited the library several times during the dead of the night, always with that same angry, loathsome stare. You’d always found it unsettling, and always left soon after he arrived, even if you still had work to do.

“Yes, you-” you began, but Felix quickly cut you off. 

“Sorry, Changbin. We were just leaving, I’ll catch you guys later.” He said, taking your arm and quickly ushering you out the entry. You saw Han attempt to call out in protest, but Felix quickly shut the door behind him, blocking whatever it was he had to say.

You turned to Felix. “What the hell was that?”

“What, I figured you’d want to get out of there?” He shrugged, not meeting your eye as he walked ahead of you, making his way down the complex stairs. 

You scowled, chasing after him. “Not that, why was Changbin - or whatever his name is - staring at me like that?”

“That’s just the way Changbin has been lately,” Felix said, although you couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to it. Pulling your arm away, you pushed passed him. If Felix was going to be so frustrating, there was no way you were going to be the one trailing him like a puppy.

“Well, I know for a fact he’s seen me at the library, so why would he lie about that?” You continued, opening the main doors and storming onto the street. 

Felix jogged after you. “I don’t know?” He shot back, his voice sharp. “Maybe he just forgot?”

You scoffed, turning a corner onto the main walking path, heading off campus and towards your own apartment. You needed to sort this out, and the last thing you needed was to cause a scene in the middle of a busy street.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, still keeping yourself a few steps ahead. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to my place.”

“It’s the middle of the day, I thought that was against your precious rules,” he sniped. You knew he was just angry, blowing off steam, but the jab hurt. He was fully aware that you hated the way things were, the way things had to be. It was a low blow, and it only made your annoyance spike. 

“Fine, Lix. You don’t have to come, go back home so you don’t have to be a burden to my ‘precious rules.’”

“Shit, no. Wait, Y/N!” He babbled, running to put himself in front of you. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for, I didn’t mean that. Please, let’s figure this out. I want to, seriously.”

You stared at him for a moment, before walking past him, a sigh trailing from your lips. “Fine, come on.”

He let out a relieved breath before catching up, placing himself at your side. 

“We need to determine what the hell we’re going to tell your roommates,” you start. “Because as of now, we’ve gotten ourselves into a load of shit-”

You didn’t see the man in front of you as you collided into his chest, falling to the ground, rubbing your nose from the immediate shock of pain. 

“Woah, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the voice said, and your entire body froze. You knew that voice. You knew that voice well. It was a voice you hadn’t heard in months, the voice of the worst possible person you could stumble into at the moment.

“Hold on, Y/N?” Chan asked. You looked up to meet his gaze, petrified by the familiar look of pain in his eyes. The same hurt from the last time you saw him, or in better terms, left him.

“Hey, Chan,” you replied, your voice coming out more shaky than you wanted it to. Chan extended a hand, lifting you to your feet. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. “It sure has.”

Then, to your complete and utter despair, his gaze shifted to Felix. It was alarming, how quickly his gaze hardened, the way any sense of past affection drifted from his eyes. “Who’s this?” He asked, his voice cold. 

“That’s Felix. He’s uh, from class, we got assigned for a partner project. We have to explain how without divine intervention, the events in The Iliad may have transpired differently,” you said. If you were going to lie, you had to at least try to make it sound believable. 

“Ah, I see,” Chan said, an edge to his voice. “Where are you guys heading?”

“Just a cafe,” you replied, keeping your voice level.

“Off campus?” He asked, his eyes narrowing, you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Yeah,” Felix answered without missing a beat. “Figured it would be less busy, you know?”

“Hm,” Chan said, before giving the boy a smile. To Felix, it probably seemed nice, but you knew Chan. Which meant you also knew there wasn’t an ounce of genuine kindness in that expression. 

“Alright, well I’ll let you guys get to it then,” he shook Felix’s hand, his grip slightly too firm. “It was nice meeting you.”

He took a step to make his exit, and for a moment you thought you’d gotten away with it. You thought that somehow, you’d manage to evade this inevitable disaster. Foolish.

Chan stopped beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Turning to Felix, he smiled, his eyes glinting. “And hey, you might want to fix your collar.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on his face as he adjusted the collar of his button-up. That’s when you noticed it. The bite marks just peeked out, visibly fresh from the following night.

Chan leaned in, his breath warm against your neck, lips brushing your ear. Your body froze, heart stopping at his words.

“You’ve got his scent all over you.”

~~~~

You and Felix spent the next few hours deciding your best course of action. In a matter of a day, your entire arrangement had been flipped on its head.

The first issue revolved around Felix’s roommates, the biggest worry being what exactly he was going to tell them. After much thought, as well as a bit of arguing, you decided to have Felix say that the two of you were casually seeing each other. This way, they shouldn’t get suspicious that there was more going on, but they also wouldn’t expect to necessarily see you around their apartment either.

There was still risk in it - of course, there always was - as there was the remaining fear that one of them might mention the two of you to the wrong person, and you’d be doomed. As much as having this as a risk pained you, there wasn’t much you could do about it, at least for the moment. For now, you had to trust that if Felix told them to keep it a secret, they would.

This was difficult, as you truthfully didn’t have faith in either of them. Han seemed nice, of course. But it was clear he liked to talk, and it wouldn’t be shocking if something managed to slip from his lips. 

Changbin... Well, he seemed to hate you, for whatever reason that might be. You tried to talk to Felix about this, but he simply brushed it off, blaming it on whatever Changbin happened to be going through at the moment. Begrudgingly, you decided to drop it, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t store the worry in the back of your mind. Keep a watchful eye out.

The bigger problem was Chan. He knew. He knew everything. The feeding, the fucking. That Felix was something more than just an acquaintance. He could single-handedly unravel your relationship, all it would take was a quick chat with The Council, and you would be ruined. There would be nothing you could do to stop them. You didn’t know what The Council would do to you, but you knew at the very least they would force you to end your arrangement with Felix.

You wanted to believe that Chan wouldn’t do that. You really did, but you knew that might not be the case. If he saw telling The Council as a way of protecting you, to keep you away from humans that could be out to hurt you, or use you, there was no doubt in your mind that that’s exactly what he would do.

For now, all you could do was wait, and keep as low of a profile as you possibly could at the moment. It was for this purpose that you said the following words:

“I think we need to distance ourselves from each other, for at least a little while,” you said to Felix. He currently was sitting on your couch, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands.

Slowly, he glanced up at you. He looked tired. “Do we have to?” He asked, his voice flooded with defeat. The last few hours hadn't been easy. There were sacrifices to make, ones that neither of you wanted to adhere to. But this was not as simple as what you did and didn’t want.

“Yeah,” you sighed, dropping down on the couch beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We have to. I think we could have dealt with your roommates, but Chan is a far bigger issue.”

Felix frowned, and you knew exactly how he felt.

 This sucked. 

Over the past month, you’d really come to like Felix. You genuinely enjoyed his company, his cooking, his sense of humour. The way he brightened up a room. Most of all, he made you feel less alone. Together you were a part of something. A relationship of sorts. You mattered. And while you would do what you could to make sure this farewell wasn’t forever, in the end it was still a goodbye.

And goodbye’s were always hard, no matter what lay behind them.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking your hand in his, gently brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “When should I expect to hear from you again?”

“I’ll give you a call by the end of the week. I might try talking to Chan, just to see where he’s at with all this. Try to make him understand before he decides to throw me under the bus.”

Felix hums in response, before twisting his neck so that his chin rests on top of your head. “I’m going to miss you,” he states simply. 

You smile sadly, planting a soft kiss at the nape of his neck. “I’ll miss you too,” you say, “but this will only be temporary. I’ll make sure of it.”

~~~~

You didn’t get the chance to talk to Chan, as not even a full day after Felix left your apartment, a letter slid under your door. Carefully, you arose from your spot on your couch, setting your laptop down on the coffee table. You approached the envelope slowly, as if you were to move too fast, it might combust.

You picked up the letter, turning it over to reveal the seal. Your heart sunk in your chest.

There it was. The red wax seal. The letter was from The Society. 

Fuck.

You frantically ripped off the seal, releasing the note inside with shaky hands.

Dear Ms. L/N,

We have recently been informed that you have been participating in actions that violate the terms of our Society agreement. This information has been provided to us by a source of whom wishes to remain anonymous for the time being.

However, these claims remain a serious issue. We would like to give you the chance to explain yourself, as well as clear up what may be a possible misunderstanding or simply a false accusation. If these actions happen to be true, then we will deal with matters accordingly.

You are called to attend this meeting at 1:00pm tomorrow, at the councilroom of our head district.

We appreciate your compliance. 

Our regards,

The Council.

~~~~

It’s almost funny, looking back on how hopeful you’d been. That despite everything working against you, you’d somehow thought you could best them. Somehow thought that you were more powerful than the unbeatable. More powerful than The Council.

That’s where you found yourself now, seated before the three all-powerful vampires, surrounded by endless more. You thought you’d be more terrified, more horrified of what they might choose to do to you. 

But you aren’t. You’re tired of this. Tired of it all. So let them do whatever they wanted, you would take it. You didn’t regret any of what you did.

Not a damn thing. 

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilmen repeats, voice dead of emotion. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

Of course you do. He knows damn well that you know exactly why you’re here, you can see it in the smirk playing at the corner of his lips.The question is mockery. 

So you say nothing. 

“Cooperation will make this much easier, Ms. L/N,” another member of The Council speaks from beside him. She looks far younger than he is, although they are probably around the same age. Which is to say, hundreds of years old.

As your silence continues, the head councilman sighs, rubbing the space between his eyes in frustration. “Fine. Let me explain, shall I? We have reason to suspect you’ve been… coercing with a human boy. Felix Lee.”

Your heart jumps slightly. They know his name? You weren’t expecting that, but then again this was The Council. Digging up identities was the least they were capable of.

“Is this true, Ms. L/N?”

You stare at the councilman. There’s no point in lying. He knows. This meeting was not to defend your innocence, but to determine your punishment. You can see it in his eyes. Those hollow, sunken eyes, that seem farther from humanity than you could’ve dreamed possible.

“Yes,” you state. Your eyes drift to the corner of the room, landing on Chan, who’s gaze remains firm. You want to slap him. Or yell at him. Maybe both. 

“Hm, well at least you’re honest,” the councilman murmurs, a light buzz of laughter vibrating throughout the room. This is funny to them, a joke. Irritation itches under your skin, you don’t quite see the humour here.

“Well,” the councilmen starts, a glint in his eye. “In order to reward your honesty, I suppose we won’t punish you.”

You blink. “What?” You say, your voice coming out a croak. You glance at Chan again, who looks equally confused. His eyes are wide, chest heaving as his breathing rate increases. No, he’s not confused, he’s alarmed.

Something is wrong. You glance back at the councilman, and there it is again, that glint of something awful in his eyes. Something evil.

“You heard me correctly, Ms. L/N. We will not punish you,” the last word drips from his tongue, and you come to understand the weight of his words.

“Fuck. No. No, no, no,” you can hardly hear yourself think over the ringing in your ears, your thoughts a jumbled mess of panic and pure terror.

The councilmen clears his throat, a grin spreading across his lips, fangs almost shining in the dim light of the councilroom. 

“No, Felix Lee will be the one to pay this price. Kill him, and the damage you’ve caused will be forgiven.”

~~

next chapter.

[amiedala]

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

[catxsnow]

FLIRTING GETS YOU NOWHERE J.T.

Request: Hey, can you please write a Jason Todd, Titans, where the reader is a badass fighter, a vigilante by the name of Spitfire that joins the Titans because Dick is like her older brother and she immediately builds this flirting relationship with Jason? He likes her a LOT and so does she and he feels like he doesn't deserve her and then after he and Dick have a fight the reader goes to console Jason and he tells her he loves her? With a little bit of smut?

Warning: implied smut, swearing, flashbacks of injury and near death, lil angst, lil fluff

A/N: My favourite thing about writing for Titans Jason is he’s still pre-trauma 😩😭 

Word count: 4.1k

Dick had no intentions of bringing you into his life. He met you back when he was a Titan, before Jericho - before everything. Just a kid with no home and no future. Dick gave you a future, he gave you something worth living for. A purpose. The team adored you, Dawn pulled you in just as close as Dick had. 

They trained you, brought you up to speed on the skills they had been working on for years. Sure, they were mad for brining a kid into this life - but what other choice did he have? Dick couldn't just leave you to fend for yourself, not when there was something that he could do about it.

You picked up on it all rather quickly. Joining them in fights, getting your own suit and name. It wasn't a life that you thought you would ever be a part of... but damn did you love it. It was a thrill, all of it. Being a completely new person when wearing the mask and getting lost in it all.

And then Jericho happened. All of you using him to get closer to Slade. Failing more than you ever thought possible. Losing Garth, losing Jericho, nearly losing you. It broke everyone apart - literally. Donna went her own way, Hank and Dawn together. Dick so desperately tried to leave you to live a better life.

You couldn't leave him, not after everything he's done for you. Dick tried to leave you - he really did. You knew him better than that, following him wasn't hard and once you were knocking on his door in Detroit he couldn't say no. Everyone blamed him for Jericho - for you - but you couldn't. Dick felt guilt every time he looked at you.

Five years passed with him. Five long years of working yourself back up to the same person that you once were. Five years of surgeries, therapy, anything so you could go back to being a hero. Dick was with you through it all, supporting you every step of the way and apologizing even more.

And when Rachel found Dick, everything changed. Your whole five years of starting a new life away from the Titans and your past was snatched away before your eyes. Travelling the country with Dick and Rachel, finding Kori and Gar. Seeing your old friends for the first time since that night in the hospital.

New people, new name, new suit. Same old place that reminded you of the night Slade nearly killed you.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Jay."

Jason Todd. Second Robin. Dick didn't like him, not a first. Maybe because he was still mad at Bruce - maybe because Jason took an instant liking towards you. How could he not? Jason flirted his way into your life and Dick hated that you flirted right back. Over your time together, you had truly become his little sister.

He didn't trust Jason - not with you.

You were too good for someone like Jason. A heart of gold and a smile to match. Dick failed to see the similarities in you, not because he couldn't see them but because he refused to accept it. You and Jason both took this whole vigilante life as a game. Something to do because you could do whatever you wanted under that mask.

With Slade, you learned quickly that this wasn't a game. People got hurt, they died. Being a hero was real and it was dangerous. After meeting Jason, how lively he was, you hoped he never had to meet the same fate as you - or worse. Years of knee braces and crutches. It was horrible - all because you took it as a game.

"I can show you better elsewhere, babe," Jason threw another punch towards you, a coy smile on his face as you both bounced around on the mats. He started his training with Bruce a couple years after you started with Dick. However, he had all the years in between to keep his training up - you had just stated again less than a year ago. He was well in advantage.

You tried to throw a cross at him but Jason seemed to already be expecting your move. He grabbed your wrist and in a split second pulled you so your back was flat against his chest. His breathing was heavy from your spar. Jason's breath caught in his throat as your fingers grazed over his thigh.

"Promise?" You teased. Before he could answer, you elbow jutted into his abs. He released his hold on you and was distracted long enough that you could easily bring him down. Before Jason could even realize what had happened, he was on the ground in a leg lock. "I thought you were better than this? The great Robin taken down so quickly."

"You got lucky this time, Spitfire."

You released Jason from your hold, popping up and giving him a hand. "I think I kicked you ass enough for one day." Sweat drenched your body and your muscles were already aching. It had been far longer than you thought that you were in the ring with Jason - time seemed to fly with him.

"Wanna join me in the shower?" Jason raised an eyebrow. He asked that nearly every time you trained with him. Most of the time he was only joking, the others you were sure that he was hoping you would actually say yes. He loved to flirt with you, he liked to flirt with everyone, but you? You were his favourite.

It came so easy to him when he was with you. Words of adoration and praise always filled his mind when thinking of you. Since the moment he met you it was easy.

"Is this a bad time?" Gar's green hair peaked through the entrance of the training room. He looked between you and Jason, only inches apart from on another. Your flirtatious relationship with Jason didn't go unknown to everyone else on the team. Dick hated it, Kori thought it was adorable, your old team members couldn't bother looking you in the eye long enough to have an opinion.

"We were just leaving," you looked back to Jason. The grin on his face widened as he thought that you agreed to his offer. It fell as you spoke again, "to our separate rooms, to shower separately."

"You'll say yes one day, babe."

><

Dick loved to tell you how much he didn't like you hanging out with Jason. He didn't like your late nights of sharing music in his room. Your hours of sparring that were a little too personal for the ring. He didn't like walking in to the living room of the tower to see you and Jason half-cuddled up on the couch watching a movie.

He tried to get Kori to agree with him, though she stayed out of it. Dick was several years older than you, but he still saw you as nothing but that little kid he picked up all those years ago. Jason was everything that he didn't want to see in you. He didn't want him to taint your life, not that he could stop it.

It lead to it's fights. Dick trying to control you life just like he always had. You being stubborn, yelling at him. There were a lot of times that you wondered if it would have been easier if you never met him, he was too much of a pain in the ass to bare sometimes. Yet you owed him everything.

Jason found you in the med bay. He'd been looking around for you all evening and couldn't find you anywhere. This was the last place he expected to see you. He stood at the door, watching you pull off the knee brace he saw you wear sometimes. It was obvious that you tried to hide it from everyone.

"What do you need, Jason?" You asked, back towards him but not needing to turn to see that it was him. Jason pushed himself off the frame of the door and leaned on the table across from you. His arms were crossed over his chest but he didn't hold his usual cocky smile. He looked concerned. "You can ask."

"Does it still hurt?" It wasn't the question that you were expecting. Dick never told anyone the full story about what happened between you and Slade. He felt it to be your story to tell, not his. Jason knew the bits and pieces, but he didn't know everything. If you wanted to tell him, you would.

"Only when I breathe," you tried to joke. Jason didn't laugh, instead he sat down on the bed next to you. "It's not a big deal, I've been living with it for nearly six years." It only occurred to him in that moment how young you were when this happened - you were just a kid who nearly couldn't get back up ever again.

He watched your eyes seal shut, trying to hide any noise of pain when standing up. Without a word, Jason swooped you up and carried you back to your room so you didn't have to put pressure back on your knee. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, but I wanted to," Jason half smiled. He sprawled out on the end of your bed, staring up at your ceiling. Your legs rested across his, but you mimicked his position. "Do you think he's really dead?"

"If he's not, he will be if I ever see him again," you spoke. Jason leaned up on his elbows to look at you. He was shocked to hear you speak of such harsh words. However, he couldn't blame you for that. Slade took away years of your life - if you ever saw him again revenge almost felt necessary. "I'm not that same kid anymore."

"I know," Jason stated. "You need me, I'm there."

"I'll hold you too that," You finally peaked up at him. A smile rode his face and you couldn't help but join. Things were easier with Jason. He was always so easy to talk to. After everything that the both of you had been through, you got a new level understanding - one that you didn't get with Dick.

"I'll hold you against anything if you ask nicely," Jason winked. He laughed at your poor attempt to kick him off your bed. The movement struck pain through you and he quickly noticed your wince. His laughter diminished instantly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just... just not a good day apparently," you grimaced. Jason carefully propped your knee up on his laps. Ugly scars laid thick on your skin, your knee was visibly swollen. Training the day before you had gone harder than you should have. Jason's fingers were cold as he traced over the lines.

The pads of his thumbs pressed into your sore muscles, massaging them as if he had known pain like yours his whole life. Your head tilted back, eyes closed shut at the release of pain. His hands were like ice against your skin but god did it feel so good. The aching pain that never went away simmered with his motions.

"Feel good?" Jason asked. You nodded, enjoying the feeling of relaxation that hadn't seemed to come to you for a long time. "Can make you feel even better later if you want."

"You never stop, do you?" You chuckled.

"Not when it comes to you babe," Jason winked again as you peaked your eyes open. This time, you couldn't stop your smile. He was cute, you had to give him that. Just as he was about to speak again, a clearing of a throat caught your attention. Dick was standing at your door, arms crossed, lips pursed.

He saw the brace out again, he wanted to ask how you were feeling - but seeing you wish Jason only frustrated him. Luckily, he hadn't heard the comment that Jason had just made to you. He cleared his throat, catching both of your guys attention. "Came to check how you were feeling," He forced out. "Jason, a word?"

"He's fine, Dick," you looked up at him. You knew the look - the 'protective brother mode' look. It was the most annoying face he seemed to make - and he had a lot of those. Jason retracted his hands from your knee, though you missed his touch instantly. "I'm fine. Same as I am every day. Jason was just giving me a hand."

Dick’s eyes narrowed and he was evidently frustrated. Jason quickly picked up on the tension in the room and cleared his throat. He stood up from the bed, careful not to touch your knee at all. "I told Gar and Rachel I would teach them stuff anyways, it's fine," he assured you. 

Dick stared Jason down as he left your room. His glanced flashed over to you before looking down at your knee. Guilt filled him, just as it always did. 

"Rest up."

><

Whatever Dick talked to Jason about it must have stuck with him. Jason stopped being his usual flirty self. He lost his smile when he was around you, he changed. It had been weeks since you had your 'flirt battle' as Gar liked to call them and you missed it. Whatever was going on inside his head, it wasn't good.

Whenever you tried to bring it up with him, he promised he was okay. 'I'm tired' 'I'm just sore from yesterday' any excuse that tried to make up for his behavior. You knew him well enough to know it was a lie and that Dick had to have said something to him to make him this way. When you asked Dick, he promised that he said nothing to Jason to make him this way.

As much as he annoyed you, Dick didn't lie - not to you. Whatever Jason was thinking, it was completely on him. Which made you even more worried - when he got lost in his thoughts he was gone.

So, as days, weeks passed, you kept on by yourself. Jason kept his distance from you and by extension, the whole team. You were his biggest link to staying connected with everyone and now that was severed. Everyone noticed the shift in dynamic between the both of you and were left just as confused.

It wasn't just Jason's distance that everyone was noticing - it was his aggression. Jason going out on patrol just like he used to. You were at his side, though silence over took the both of you. He would ask if your knee was up to the task that night before leaving and after that he said nothing.

He was aggressive out there. Throwing punches that were harder and longer than needed. Relentless against some asshole that probably deserved it - but wasn't necessary. You were worried about him. So worried that you finally had to cave and go tell Dick the truth of what was going on when you were there with him.

As badly as you didn't want to make Jason even more upset at you, this path he was going down wasn't a good one. If there was something that you could do to help, then it was worth the risk. Unfortunately for you, Jason reacted exactly like you expected him to when Dick confronted him.

He was rash, harsh - yelling at Dick that he was fine and that you and him both should mind your own business. Neither of you wanted to get Bruce involved but if it needed to happen, you would go to that extent. Jason rushed off back to his room, slamming his door shut as he did so.

You peaked your head out from your own room. Dick was standing in the middle of the hall, defeat on his face from how poorly the conversation went. He looked at you, hoping that you'd have a solution to this growing problem. Neither of you wanted to see Jason like this - especially when you didn't know where it came from.

With a sigh, you stood in front of Jason's door and knocked. There was no answer, even so when you tried a second time. You looked over at Dick a final time before twisting the handle to let yourself in. To your surprise, the door wasn't locked. With final 'good luck' nod from Dick, you slipped into the room.

Jason was standing at his window, staring out of it and completely unaware of your presence. His shoulders were tense; he held himself as if the whole world was trying to tear him down piece by piece. As if everyone and everything were against him every second of the day without an escape.

You saw the same in Dick. They were more similar than either of them would ever like to admit. Both trying to fight against the world one handed while holding everyone up with the other. They didn't want help - not because they didn't think they needed it - but because sharing a burden like that was too painful.

"Jason."

He tensed at the sound of your voice. Refusing to look at you as if you were the last person he wanted to see. As if your time together these past several months meant absolutely nothing to him. God you hoped it wasn't true. Jason was everything to you, and these past few weeks without him made it so easy to realize that.

"Jay, please. You've been shutting me out for weeks," You stepped closer to him. "I just want to help, I want to know what's going on." Your fingers ghosted over his, debating whether or not to enclose his hand in yours. He answered it for you, retracting away from your touch like you were poison.

"You deserve someone better than me," Jason finally whispered out. You could barely hear him, the pain in his voice was so evident it hurt you. "I don't deserve to be around someone like you."

"Jason where did this come from?" You asked. Was this why he was so distant to you? Jason tricked himself into believe that he didn't deserve you at all. Dick hadn't meant to spark the thought within him, but it had happened. An offside comment about how good of a person you were and Jason realized just how right he was.

Jason was nothing but a darkness that tainted your light. He wanted to believe that, make it easier to push himself away from you so you could be better off in the grand scheme of things. It was far from the truth. Jason showed you a real happiness that you hadn't experienced since your time with the original Titans.

He showed you what it meant to live again without being held back by fear or pain. Jason showed you what it was like to feel loved for who you were, not who you used to be. He was there through the pain of your old wounds and ready to catch before you got new ones. You were the one who didn't deserve someone like him.

"Dick-"

"Doesn't know what he's talking about," you cut him off before he could try to reiterate what Dick had said to him. You didn't want to hear it because none of it was true. Dick always thought he knew what was best for you and he didn't. "I care about you, Jason. I've never cared for someone so much in such a short amount of time and it scares the hell out of me. But if there's one thing I'm certain about - it's that you're going to be by my side through it all."

Jason didn't say anything. You were scared that your words spooked him and that maybe he didn't care about you in the same way. Maybe all of his flirts were truly just harmless. You sighed, worried that all this was for null. Jason didn't want to be saved, he never did.

"I love you," he quietly muttered out as if he was scared to say it, scared to see what you had to say about it. Jason was scared that you were going to leave him just as everyone else in his life did. He was scared that he was going to disappoint you - or even worse - ruin you. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, "I'm in love with you."

"Then why walk away from me?" You grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at you fully since you had walked into his room. "Why assume that I never felt the same way? Or let Dick choose your path for you?"

"I thought you'd be better off."

"I'm better off with you."

Your hands trailed up his arms, his chest, until reaching his cheeks. He held a strong façade, but you knew what hid behind it. Fear, trauma, desperation for acceptance. Jason was a wall when he wanted to be, but with you, he felt like it could all crumble down and he would be better off in the end.

In less than a moment, Jason had grasped the back of your neck, pulling you so close towards him that no air could fir between. His lips rashly pushed against yours, desperate for you touch. The months worth of buildup to this moment were worth every second of waiting. This was what he needed.

The pounding in his chest was so profound you swore you could feel it against your own. You couldn't focus on the small breaths of air that you desperately needed between movements, only how addictive he was. The shaking in your knees at how divine he felt completely pressed against you was nothing compared to the unsteadiness of his hands.

Scared that this was a dream, scared that you would think this only to be a mistake because of a build up of guilt that she had. Jason couldn't let this be a one time thing, he couldn't.

"Is this what you want?" He asked, lips grazing over yours. His hand at the back of your neck fell to your waist.

"I want you Jason. I want to be with you," you assured. It was enough, those few words were enough for him to give himself up to you completely. His fingers squeezed into your waist, tugging you up so you'd jump into him. Legs wrapped around his waist as he walked you both to his bed.

He encased you on his bed, arms on either side of you. Jason's kisses became deeper as he grew more confident. A shudder went down his spine as your fingers trailed down his chest until reaching the him of his t-shirt. He pulled away for only a second to pull off the material before going straight back to your lips.

Your hips lifted off his bed, desperate to meet his. Jason groaned at the slightest brush of your jeans. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he pressed down to meet you. The tightness of his jeans was so evident. His lips planted along your neck, wet kisses left in his wake until reaching a small spot that made you breath hitch.

You could feel his grin against your skin before he paid more attention there. His hips ground into yours as he nipped and sucked. You reached for his buckle, needing more of this delicious sensation that he was providing you. Jason cried out as you grasped him through his underwear.

He helped you pull away his jeans as well as your own top. Clothes scattered across his floor, no longer caring about anything else besides you. "You're so damn beautiful," Jason trailed up with kisses as he undid your jeans.

"I thought you learned by now that flirting gets you nowhere," you teased. Your finger tipped his chin up, encouraging him to pull himself up to kiss you. His body fit so perfectly against yours, as if your curves were pieces of the same puzzle and he was the link you had always been missing. "Pretty boy."

"Flirting gets you nowhere," he mocked you.

"Got me here, didn't it?"

[alwaysdaenerys]

The consequences of King Bran

I had this sudden thought about the end of Game of Thrones, in comparison to the theorized end to ASOIAF, in regards to King Bran. I’m not a huge fan of this ending, and yes this is obvious because of my username, I’m aware! But at least in the show, it was lackluster and not foreshadowed in the slightest. Things may be different in the books in any case, though this is not truly what I want to put on the table for others to discuss and analyze. 

I’ve read and talked about with other fans about how making Bran king at the end of the book series may be advantageous, because the realm is healing from the significant massacre of its citizens during the Long Night. And if this is the case, the showrunners and writers missed a huge opportunity to kill more people. I’m not necessarily saying more main characters—though this is another problem I have with the show—but actually more smallfolk, more un-named or lesser lords, etc. The fact that D&D decided that the War for the Dawn was only going to last one fucking night is preposterous for many reasons, but the main one is: the Others and their wights would have never tired because they don’t need food for water or rest, and could have totally swept through the weak and depleted Riverlands, Reach, Stormlands, Crownlands even, with ease.

And because the writers did not extend the Long Night, because they didn’t kill half the humans in Westeros like the Others had the means to do, there are so many contenders left for seats of power. There is a logical argument in saying that Bran may be a good leader because there is literally no one else to take on the mantel; I will concede to that. But there are SO MANY CHARACTERS LEFT AT THE END OF THE SHOW. Bran has no army to defend him from all these people who command thousands of noticeably-alive soldiers. Who, if they were in character in the last season, would have had more to say about this tiny kid who they just met today being king of the fucking world. 

And because he just hands the North its independence without asking anyone else if they’d like to petition the same thing, it will snowball out of control quite quickly.

Yara remains: the Iron Islands have a long history of coveting independence and now that their last liege, Daenerys, is no longer living, it won’t take them long to realize that they have no opposition on the high seas, or the battlefield. Who cares if land is not their strong suit? It will be against, you guessed it, an army of Tyrion and a wheelchair-bound Bran. Yara will raise her men, who, once again, are not walking dead, and they secede from the mainland for good. And Bran cannot do a thing because his faction has neither strength at sea nor land.

Dorne and its unnamed prince: another example of a region in Westeros that was continuously on the outs with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. They were not truly “conquered” until the Daeron II married a Martell princess. The dragons were never able to hold Dorne on the battlefield so what makes anyone think that Bran Stark and his lack of dragons will? They’ll be the first to go, in my opinion, because at least Yara had a previous somewhat-working relationship with the Crown, whereas the unnamed Prince of Dorne has no obligations to a single person at that Great Council. 

Edmure and the Riverlands: this region, in the show and in the books, is always the most affected my war. If the Others would have made it past Winterfell, the Riverlands would be next. The smallfolk suffered during the War of the Five Kings and Edmure knew it and wanted to help. I always thought it was clever of GRRM that he chose Edmure Tully to be one of the only lords that actually cared about his people, because of his region’s proximity to the conflict. Yes, Ned Stark may have cared for his people as a whole, but we never see him do anything as protective as Edmure is by letting the smallfolk into his keep, for the poor of the North. And in the show, since the Others did not even glimpse Riverrun and its vassals, the Tullys have the army they do at the end of season 6. Edmure won’t like that he was insulted by the Queen in the North, and will take his next move from Yara.

The Stormlands are a toss-up for me: Gendry owes his legitimization to Queen Daenerys, not Bran. So either he will be overthrown and/or killed by the other Stormlords immediately upon entering his keep, or they will persuade him to secede as well. Arya jilted Gendry and if we are to believe she plans to never see him again, there’s a pretty good chance Gendry won’t care about the consequences of his actions because he has nothing to lose. It seemed pretty obvious that he didn’t want to do all this lord stuff without the love of his life, so it’s not much of a leap to assume he wouldn’t care about the trappings of royalty anymore. Storm’s End is nearly impregnable and Bran has no army to besiege the castle like Mace Tyrell did during Robert’s Rebellion. I have no doubt that with or without Gendry, the nobles or the Stormlands will not be appreciative of Bran or Tyrion. Maybe they haven’t flirted with independence quite as much as others have since Aegon the Conqueror, but it will feel monumentally better than watching all the other kingdoms secede and stay silent.

The Eyrie seems to the most realistic example here, as far as what the regions will be like after the defeat of the Others: the Knights of the Vale participated in the War for the Dawn, therefore the fighting force has been depleted. And I would argue that they have a very similar situation to the Stormlands; Rhaenys was only able to bring the Arryns into the fold by flying her dragon to the castle. Once again, without dragons, I don’t see how Bran is going to be as successful. Robin Arryn doesn’t know Bran; he was all in for Sansa. But since Sansa decided to leave him in the lurch to declare independence, I don’t think he and his advisors are going to stay besties with her. Sitting out the War of the Five Kings makes it even easier for me to theorize that they would be just fine on their own.

The state of the Reach is the most embarrassing thing that happened on Game of Thrones: the fact that we have to watch Bronn of the fucking Blackwater sit in the Queen of Thorns’ seat of power is a travesty. I always liked him on the show and in the books, but this, I cannot forgive. He is woefully ill-equipped to be lord of a keep, let alone Highgarden, and putting him on the small council as MASTER OF COIN when he can’t read or understand loans was beyond lazy. As far as the state of the Reach, they are pretty depleted from the sack of Highgarden, but even so, it seems painfully obvious that his lack of support from the other lords in the region will be his downfall. Maybe they weren’t 100% supportive of the Tyrells either, but there’s no way any of them will allow some up-jumped sellsword who’s best friends with Tyrion Lannister to lead them. Since Bronn has no army of his own, he’ll be dead soon enough and someone who was decidedly not killed during the Long Night, will take his place and give a middle finger to the Iron Throne, just like Olenna.

The Westerlands are the weakest of the remaining Six Kingdoms, I think: they don’t have much of an army after the Battle of King’s Landing. I think they’d be the only support of Bran after he is crowned, and that’s because Tyrion is the Hand. After Daenerys took Casterly Rock, most everyone bent the knee or died, so Tyrion doesn’t even have a suitable army to defend him, let alone the castle. I can’t imagine the soldiers remaining after all this would be enough to take on all the rebellions that are destined to occur after the secession of the North.

Lastly, the North: how will Bran react when his home region is starving and begging for aid? They have nothing to feed their people in the cold, white North. Yes, a lot of people died in the war, but there are plenty who didn’t participate and since it didn’t get past Winterfell, only those involved in the Battle—and the Umbers—were affected. Will the new king give it, even though they have no right to ask for it? Will he defy the laws of the realm for his sister? Because as far as I’m concerned, the North cannot sustain itself without the help of the other kingdoms. It’s not warm enough for farming, while the livestock trade was probably diminished when the Boltons were Wardens. Sansa would rather be in the Queen in the North than actually take care of her subjects; because by choosing independence, she has doomed everyone. Nothing changes for the smallfolk; it’s just another feudal overlord.  

In conclusion: if Bran becomes King, there would have to be an apocalypse for it to be successful. There definitely wasn’t on the show, therefore several events will cause his coronation to be all for naught before Tyrion’s ten years are up. As GRRM has stated, the Others are the focus of the story and who sits on the Iron Throne is a secondary plot to distract from the actual horror. I’m not usually someone to ask for more horror, but when it comes to the future of Westeros under King Bran, things are looking terribly bleak without more of it.

[julyarchives]

Baby, pull me closer || (M)

If you had ever believed in soulmates, it was because of Jo Jinho. When you were just hanging out at a bar with a few coworkers on a Friday night, the last thing you expected was to be confronted with your past.

→ A/n: Jinho x Female Reader

→ Genre: Angst; Smut

→ Words:  3K

→ Contains: Exes to Lovers; some angst; Talk about feelings; Break up.

→ A/n: We might have gotten carried away with the word count 😅 but we hope we could live up to the request! Thank you again for the anon who did it! We hope you all like it 🥰

If you had ever believed in soulmates, it was because of Jo Jinho. You two met in High School and were inseparable since day 1. He was your prince charming, the love of your life, your ride or die. Your life with him was a fairytale, and you caught yourself wondering so many times how lucky you were to have him in your life. You two worked hard to get into the same college and the time you spent there only made your connection stronger, and you knew it in you that you were his forever.

Which only made the break up more painful.

When you were offered the scholarship of your dreams, your first instinct was to go running to him and share the news, so you could celebrate together. But it was only seconds later that you stopped to think about everything that it would implicate. Jinho’s dream job required him to stay in the city and you would never want to be the person to make him give up everything for a relationship. You were selfish enough to put your goals first, but not selfish enough to rip him out of his.

So, after a lot of thinking, you made the most excruciating decision of your life.

“What do you mean? You can’t possibly be serious. You’re joking, right?” Jinho asked, voice trembling and tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.

The lump in your throat almost took your voice away, but you quickly swallowed it, convincing yourself that this was the only right decision.

“I told you, Jinho, I just don’t feel anything anymore. This relationship won’t work if I’m not in love with you. You deserve better, and it’s best if we break up now so you don’t get any more hurt. I don’t want to hurt you, Jinho.”

“Y/N, please” His tears fell freely now. He held you close by the waist, fists curling around the hem of your shirt “Please, don’t say this. I don’t believe you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, and you closed your eyes, trying -and failing - to hold back your own tears.

“Please” he whispered

His lips grazed against yours and you let him kiss you, tasting the salty tears that were completely unrestrained by now.

“I’m sorry” was the last thing you whispered before leaving without looking back. Completely heartbroken at the sound of him calling your name in between sobs.

That’s why when you hear his voice calling your name again, almost 2 years later, you almost couldn’t believe your ears.

You were just hanging out at a bar with a few coworkers on a Friday night, the last thing you expected was to be confronted with your past.

“Jinho?” you turned around, knowing who you would see.

You always thought Jinho was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and it is not like you haven’t checked his social media after the break up, but nothing had prepared you for the way he looked in front of you.

So much had passed, so obviously he looked way more mature than the last time you actually saw him in person, with traces you couldn’t see over a photo, but adorned his face like it had always been there, and only complemented his charming self.

The suit and glasses added to it as well, but what made your heart stop was the smile. It was like traveling back in time, to when you could see him everyday in comfortable sweatpants and loose T-shirts, playing guitar by the window of his apartment, the golden dawn light shimmering on his skin.

Your daze was broken as he approached and you tried to find anything to say at all, but it felt like you forgot each and every word in your own language.

“Hey” was all that came out of you, and you cursed yourself mentally for being a grown ass woman acting like a teenager again.

"I did not expect to see you here." he said, a confused look on his face

"Yeah, I live here now." You offered a smile, but you were actually nervous thinking how living in this city is basically what broke you two up.

"Nice to know I'll have a familiar face around! I got a job here now, I just moved in"

"Really?" You were surprised "congratulations on the new job"

"Thank you" He smiled in return, eyes turning into crescent moons "since we're here, would you like to grab something to drink? I would love to catch up with you"

You always thought of getting in touch with Jinho over the years. Every time you thought of him or checked him online, you thought of texting. What actually stopped you was the thought that what you did was unforgivable and he probably hated you after you ignored the many times he tried to reach you after you told him you wanted to break up. The last time you saw each other was when you went to return his stuff, and get yours' from him, and that did not go well. You two barely looked at each other and you don't ever remember saying anything, but you couldn't forget how heartbroken he was.

It threw you completely off guard when invited you to catch up because you expected him to hate your guts. But then again, it was a long time ago, he probably was over it, like you were. At least you thought so.

"Sure, why not?" You answered shyly.

He led you both to a table while your coworkers grinned at you, and you silently shushed them.

The conversation started a little awkward, both of you walking on eggshells to avoid the "ex" subject. You caught up eventually, and you were glad to know that he actually achieved the job he always wanted and was very focused on his career, and he was happy to know that the same happened to you.

Before you two realized, the conversation was flowing easily, and you were laughing together and messing with each other, feeling like nothing actually changed between you two. The connection was still there and you honestly felt happy about it.

When the bartender warned about the last call Jinho offered to share a cab home with you because it was already late, and you gladly accepted it, just so you could stretch the time spent with him.

"I'm glad we ran into each other" he said like he could read your thoughts.

"Me too, I'm having a lot of fun." You admitted, you two reaching the front door of your house.

"I gotta be honest, though, I thought we wouldn't see each other again." He said with a half-smile "the way that things happened with us…"

"Yeah, I know…" you gently interrupted, too embarrassed to bring that up "But I'm happy to see you, really. I didn't even see the time passing."

"Right?" He agreed "it ended too fast."

"I might have a bottle of wine we can open if you would like to come in" your mouth ran faster than your brain, and you felt really stupid for asking that like you were pushing some kind of limit there.

You felt a little more comfortable when he didn't take long to make up his mind and accepted your invitation.

You entered your house and kicked your heels off to the side while you heard Jinho closing the door behind himself.

Out of a sudden, you felt too shy to look at him, so you kept yourself busy with other stuff.

You tried to take your coat off, but the collar got caught in your necklace's chain, and you simply couldn't undo it yourself.

"Here, let me." Jinho promptly helped, gently untangling it.

He went further and pushed the coat off of your shoulders delicately, his fingers grazing on your bare skin exposed from your sleeveless dress. His knuckles ran all the way down your arms and you were too aware of his body next to yours, goosebumps rising on your skin when his warm breath hit the back of your neck.

"Please tell me you don't have a boyfriend." He whispered, his fingers grazing on your waist while he stood behind you.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you knew the implications of that question. You also knew that what he was suggesting, you wanted just as much.

"No, I don't." Your voice was just a barely audible whisper

You almost couldn't finish your sentence when his grasp on your waist tightened and he spun you around, pulling you closer to him, chest to chest, and his lips didn't hesitate to find yours.

Your body reciprocated him in a reflex that comes with a habit, like you never were not used to having him holding you like that.

The kiss was hungry and desperate, your hand messing his hair while he explored every new curve of your body, grasping for any skin he could find.

Jinho pressed you against the wall, trapping you in between the surface and his body. He wrapped one hand around your leg, lifting it up and squeezing up the hem of your dress, his kisses trailing down your neck.

"Fuck, I wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you." He whispered against your ear before sucking a spot just under it.

All you could answer was a breathy moan, leaning your body to press harder against him.

You took your time exploring his body and couldn't help but notice that his muscles grew stronger as you grazed your nails on his toned chest.

He grinded his hips forward, and you could already feel a semi-hard growing in his pants, the thought of it making you clench in anticipation.

You chased after his lips again, never having enough of it, nibbling at the plump bottom lip that you always loved

"Bedroom?" You whispered in between kisses, your breath already heavy.

Jinho only nodded eagerly, and you held his hand while walking down the hall.

As soon as he figured out the way he was all over you again, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and he didn't stop kissing you as you both settled on the soft mattress, every touch of his was very rough and commanding.

He kneeled up and you watched him discard his shirt carelessly, the sight making your mouth water. You bit your bottom lip, admiring his body, and he smirks proudly.

Next thing you know he's grabbing you by the hips and pulling you closer to him, making you slide down the sheets and yelp in surprise.

"You've changed" you addressed his manhandling with a naughty tone to it.

"You have no idea" his husky voice hit your ears like music, a tone as mischievous as the grin on his lips.

He pulled your dress up, off of your body, and you followed his lead without hesitating. Your panties were next and soon enough your hands were opening his fly and button, only letting go so he could get his pants and boxer off.

Jinho kissed you again and you moaned. You didn't think you'd ever need him this much again but you could feel your body trembling for him with only kisses. He pulled away and stood there, heavy breathing, eyes focusing on your every detail.

"I never thought I'd have you like this again", he seemed so sincere that made your heart ache.

"You do now", was all you could say before his hands were all over you. Gently caressing from your shoulder to your thighs, his strong hands guiding your legs to be around his waist.

"I don't think I can wait much more. '' Jinho didn't seem pleased with himself, staring at your chest instead of your face. You could see his hard shaft twitching whenever your skin rose up in goosebumps to his touch but the wetness between your legs was not any better.

"Please…".

Before you could say anything else, Jinho was already touching you, hands firmly grasping your breasts and squeezing, playing with your nipples while slowly grinding against you, his dick moving easily against your folds with how slick you were.

He groaned when you moved your hips back, hands exploring his toned chest and arms, touching all parts of him you could reach. You missed him so much that all these years apart only made you desperate to have him.

You were the one who moved lower and grabbed his member, smirking when he groaned lowly. You guided him to your entrance without a word, knowing you wouldn't be able to say anything. Jinho thankfully went along with it, letting go of your breasts and supporting himself with his hands on top of you while slowly entering you.

It felt like the world stopped. He felt so good inside, filling you up completely. Both of you moaned, his forehead leaning against yours. When he moved, you couldn't stop looking at him, his intense eyes and mouth open, his arms flexing from the movements, his hair already messy. Jinho was perfect and you wished you never let go. Looking back into his eyes, you could see he was watching you just the same and soon enough he was moving intensely with you, never breaking eye contact.

Everything started so easily and so intimate but even then it surprised you when you realized you two weren't just going on a nostalgic casual fuck. Jinho was making love to you, moving gently but also hitting your spot perfectly, his muscles flexing in the most delectable way. Your hands rested on his waist, caressing the skin as much as you could while you both moved, too deep in the moment to realize you didn't let go of each other's forehead.

It didn't take long for you to feel the fire burning hotter inside of you, the pleasure being too intense, and feeling a white-hot shock through your body. Neither of you said anything, your moaning, and heavy breathing filling your room in the most sensual way possible. One of your hands moved to his chest, right above his heart and his eyes widened. Jinho picked up his movements, chasing his orgasm as yours took over your body, making you arch and move closer to his body.

Thankfully you had recovered seconds later, just in time to see, and feel Jinho climaxing, his eyes squeezed shut and a low deep grunt falling off his lips beautifully. He laid gently on top of you and kissed you again, deep and longingly. When you pulled back, you couldn't help the bright smile you gave him, a soft giggle falling off your lips at the feeling of him in your arms again. Unfortunately, Jinho only half-smiled back and your guts twisted.

"I think we need to talk".

You could only manage a small "yeah", your smile died down. You pointed at the corridor, getting up after his nod. You didn't take long in the bathroom, too anxious to hear him out but also dreading what was about to come. You picked a sweater from the bathroom that surely wasn't supposed to be there and came back to the room.

Jinho was laying down in your bed, boxers back in place, and had half of his body covered with your comfy blanket. He was fidgeting with the hem of the blanket and you knew he was nervous as well.

"I felt cold, I hope you don't mind", he said with a shy smile.

"Of course not", you said, moving to lay with him under the blanket. He moved until he was laying on his side facing you, you mirroring his position.

"So", you both said at the same and that got a nervous laugh out of both of you. You motioned for him to go first.

"Why?", Jinho said, looking into your eyes. "Why did you leave me back then? Be honest this time, please".

"I-", you froze. You knew he'd say something about that but why was he so sure you lied? "How do you know I was lying?"

"We were perfect, Y/N", his voice was soft, his eyes gleaming. "We were in love and we fit perfectly together. You made me believe in soulmates, I felt like I would spend my life with you. And I know you felt the same".

"My scholarship", you said bluntly. "I couldn't have you give up your life for my dream and I knew you'd do it. I couldn't let go of my dream scholarship but I could never let you jeopardize yours".

Jinho closed his eyes briefly and breathed deeply slowly. Your eyes were filled with tears suddenly, a lot of feelings coming back at once. Regret, love, sorrow, how you missed him.

"I don't know if I feel relieved or even more hurt", he chuckled but you both couldn't see the humor. "I mean, I was sure you loved me but you were so hurtful that I was starting to believe you never actually even liked me".

"No!", you sit up quickly, eyes wide. "I thought it was the only option but I never stopped loving you", you blurted out.

"You… what?"Jinho sat up too then, slowly but surely.

"I know I made a mess and hurt you, but I always loved you when we were together, loved you when I broke up with you and… I honestly think I never got over you completely".

Jinho moved as if he could scare you off at any second. He slowly lifted his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that fell. It only made you want to run. You had hurt him so much and even then he was taking care of you.

"I'm here now. I- I don't think we can go back to how we were even if we tried. It hurt too much and I don't think we are still the same person we were", he moved until his face was inches away from yours. "I feel the same and always did. I want to heal, I want to help you heal too".

Nodding, you moved to kiss him and sighed in relief when kissed you back.

"We can be friends", you said, lips moving always completely against his. "We can learn about each other again, I can redeem myself", you finished the sentence with a small kiss on his lips and he laughed.

"Friends that may kiss?"

"Friends that definitely will kiss".

[spencerscoven]

— dreams of another

about ; Since that night in the office you wander onto Spencer’s mind at all times, like clockwork.

gif by saramichellesgeller

CONTENT WARNING: unedited, smut, oral sex (male&female receiving), choking, unprotected sex, cheating, angst

a/n: view part 1 here.

The second time it happens, it's only a week that passes before Spencer finds himself on the floor of the humid conference room, his limbs entangled with yours, while the cool air settles on the sheen of sweat coated on his forehead. In the corner of of the room, he watches the navy blouse discarded carelessly on the top of a chair, similar in color to the marks between your breast.

The third time it happens, he tells you it's the last time, with his back facing you and his eyes gazing at entirely nothing.

The fourth and fifth time, Spencer doesn't say anything in the tiny space of your bedroom as he overlooks the buildings surrounding your apartment, then all the way to the concrete foundation down below, studying how insignificant everyone looked. How unknowing they were to the moral wrongdoings happening all around them.

"You live so high up. I live four floors down from here in my own building." You listened as he said those fruitless words.

"What does that mean?" You questioned, lips pursing together while your finger nails caught on the creases of the cream duvet beneath you where he laid only minutes before.

“People like you are meant to fuck people like me.” He mumbles, smirking, the vibrations of his voice upheld by the enclosures of cheap plaster walls.

The only thing left to do was to watch as the muscles of his back contracted, dancing in the lines of the darkness with the patter of his feet coming towards you. You monitored the direction of his hand as it reached for the band of his briefs, the other already latched around your neck.

The sixth time it happens, it’s in the bounds of his own apartment where he presses peppery kisses along the sides of your face, assuring you in confidence that she wouldn’t catch the two of you there. And he reassures you the only way he knows how, his fingers plying at your zipper and kneeling like he would at an alter, guiding the arch of your hips closer.

Two weeks from then was when the phone calls started. You began to understand the pattern, laying awake until the sweet pinnacle of dawn where he’d whisper your name through the receiver, exhaustion tainted in Spencer’s voice when he’d ask, “how was your night?” before he began to speak. You’d listen to Spencer talk about the good and the bad. About his mother, vintage cufflinks, and the bookshelf he wanted. Sometimes about the glasses or earrings in the store had reminded him of you. Often about how pretty you looked latched onto his cock. You wanted him to want to keep you.

You wanted him to want you first, to touch you before you even had to lay a finger on him, to grab the back of your neck and kiss you first. Anything he could do to prove that he wanted this too. Something in your head told you it was wrong to long for such a furtive thing. But you found yourself willing to be second best anyways, head stuck below sub zero while you prioritized the taste of his lips along with everything else that made him, him.

So in the shadows this thing between the two of you remained.

And the team began to realize Spencer now had a thing with being late.

They also began to realize that you didn’t drink nearly enough coffee to warrant all of your disappearances.

JJ malignly embarked on the observation of the two of you during meetings, where you never met Spencer’s eye properly but unconsciously leaned your body towards him with each interaction. And all at once it made sense to her, why he was more drawn to his phone, departing from bed at night in preference of hushed ringtones, his growing fondness to late nights. They had never agreed to a proclamation of love, not even on the days she relaxed on his dingy apartment furniture. JJ figured it was his way of waiting on her to feel the same as he might’ve, when in reality it was Spencer’s way of making sure you still remained in his life.

It was a Tuesday when she let the structure of your sin unravel in the bleak corner of the hallway with Spencer, confessing “i know” and chastening him,

“How many people are you willing to hurt?”

With the unequivocal decision pinned to the front of his brain, Spencer told you he didn’t want to hurt anyone else during the last call the two of you shared at night. The words became lost from your ears as you feigned deafness, thinking about how stupid you were to take him in the only way you could, thinking one-third of him be adequate enough.

So you hung up before he said goodbye, and it was easy to do solely because if love couldnt suffice, hate would have to.

It was odd to overlook the call that came immediately after, your eyes unblinking at the white screen. The weeks after that only came to demonstrate that finding a home within someone was overrated, even if you knew who was behind the blocked numbers that caused your phone to viberate so often it would fall off your nightstand.

Little by little you figured you’d forget and move onto your own devices, exhausted by the ability that you still moved through life, yet experienced none of it without itching for him next to you. You lusted after the idea you’d wake up with the intensity of it all slipped from your mind, forgetting how his arms felt, skin, pulse, the sound of his voice, or the soft ringlets of his hair that continued to grow as you wilted.

A harder idea to get out of your head was if he was okay, followed by if he ever thought of you at the same time you thought of him. Did he know you wouldn’t have minded resigning to another team? Or that you considered doing it, even now?

Spencer spectated your life, the base of his throat becoming caught when he watched you get worse, speak less, become smaller. You’d shrunken within yourself. Months passed, with him having too many inquiries about you to Morgan, who always gave him a disappointing look, but told him about you each time. That you hadn’t been sleeping, internal clock stuck on keeping you up until the crack of dawn, your mind regressing backwards solely because of him. He gave up on leaving those stupid sticky notes in your books that said “call me!” or even the ones that asked if you were okay, asking if you able to stand on your own.

He watched you so long that he began to see you get better, more social as you expanded, becoming a part of the team again. You were different, but you were you again. It was a bitter pill to swallow when he took heed that your life no longer included him, keeping his lips sealed at any revelation that would show he was still devoted.

So it was dull-witted when he found himself outside the door of your apartment, swaying back and fourth because every night since the last call his world had been spinning faster and faster, trapping him inside as a prisoner. For weeks straight Spencer had awoken with the feeling of bile ready to rise out of his throat, your presence always lacking even if you controlled the beat of his heart.

He knocked. And thought about how angelic you looked when you answered, the confused expression not going unnoticed by him as a celebration sounded somewhere in his mind because you looked as if you weren’t expecting anyone else. And Spencer knows he’d collapse right then and there if you had been.

“I’ve been thinking— it’s not like I can really stop it— for months. It’s been around sixty eight days since we last spoke,” He began, taking you in, enstilling trust in his brain to get a photo of you so well that he could have it forevermore if you didn’t want him anymore. If that had ever been the case he’d leave. He’d leave the state if you asked him to.

“Why are you here?” You only had four words to say out loud, the rest buzzing around in your head safely, unauthorized to rise out of your throat.

“We never really said anything about it but I think we both knew how we felt.” Spencer leans closer just in time for his lips to land beside your ears, lighting a match inside your chest that had stayed extinguished for far too long.

“Speaking was never our strong suit, anyway.” You replied, your lips pursed while your arms took on a defensive stance, pushing him back gently.

You were shipwrecked inside, pushing him back again, this time firmly because you knew you couldn’t stop him from coming closer, even if you wanted to. You were at a standstill as his hands brought yours to his shoulders, drawing circles on your hip with the tips of his fingers. He was in your doorway asking if he was yours, not trying to eloquently wrap you around his finger.

Your limbs acted before your mind did, digits moving across his adam’s apple and holding tight, restricting his airflow like he had done to you so many times while he fucked you into the mattress. You gleamed at him with not much in your eyes, trying to remembering when you had tried to cross the thin line between love and hate for him. Spencer’s eyes were soft and adoring, a look which he had a tendency to give you. So you held tighter. And he did nothing, knowing you wouldn’t go far but willing to die in your hands if you truly wanted to.

“I don’t know if you deserve this anymore,” Your lips ghosted over his, reprimanding him that he’d forgotten that this had began in a game of adultery.

“I don’t.” Spencer’s voice came out as if he was parched and you had been refusing him of a drink. Your hands released his neck and instead grabbed at his jaw, allowing his lips to mend together with yours, unable to speak back.

“If I loved you any less, I’d be able to talk about it more.” He pulled away just enough to whisper those words.

“You love me?” You questioned, a bit timid in the way it came out.

“It’s more than that. I adore you. Worship, even.”

You felt yourself moving the both of you into your apartment, swapping the publicity of the hallway for the privacy closely afforded to you. Your bodies only got so far, pushing each other against the wall next to the enterence, Spencer’s hands helping to arch your body into his, hands pressing down the curve of your back.

You enjoyed feeling him subtly grind his hips against you while he let out little whimpers, remembering the way he was so vocal and sensitive, yet dominant when he laid between your legs. You drew in a quick breath as he bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw the red liquid that ran through your body, conflicted as to why it only drew you closer, want intensified.

“I missed you so much,” Spencer’s voice ghosted in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking along your throat and collarbones, pushing the palm of his hand harshly against your damp cotton underwear, drawing a shiver from you. “Are lilacs still favorite flowers?”

His fingers played along your slit, the pads of his thumb pressing on your clit and rotating above the fabric, watching your hips jerk from the subtle pleasure.

“I think you missed me too,” Spencer held you, switching places so you now were encased between him and the wall, knowing that soon enough your knees wouldn’t be able to hold you up. His index and middle finger filled you up in a way only he could, the tips of them curving in his direction as he hit the bumpy ridge inside of you.

You held his shoulder, uncaring that your nails dug into the expensive button up he wore, admiring that he always preferred quality over quantity. Your face contorted in pleasure as his fingers only pumped faster inside of your vagina, only smirking at the sorry attempt of a nod you gave to answer him because he had rendered you speechless.

You felt the climb of your orgasm rise in your stomach, reaching all the way to the rest of your limbs, making them feel as if they were just static attached to your body until his fingers ceased, sensing how you clenched around them desperately. Your mouth opened, protests ready to fall out while he grasped the back of your knees, signaling you to jump so he could carry you to your bedroom.

“Why are you always such a tease?” You groaned, endearingly grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I can’t just let your greedy pussy swallow my fingers and cum from just that...” he tosses you into your sheets gently, leaning down to take your top off and throwing it somewhere to be rediscovered again.

He watches silently as you lift your hips off the mattress, panties sliding down your calves to your ankles, and finally off. Spencer gazes down at you, your jaw in his two hands, staring up with puppy eyes. He let a line of swears spring from his mouth, wondering why you looked so innocent when your hands were planted on his hips, licking the precum that made a wet patch on the side of his pants.

“Quite unfair that I’m the only one with my clothes off, don’t you think?” Your hands settled on his belt buckle, the jingle of metal filling the room as you undid the button to his slacks as well. Tugging him by the band of his boxers to lay on the bed with you, Spencer caught the cue and laid against the headboard. He trailed his left hand along your thighs, lifting you to straddle him as his right latched onto your breasts, squeezing.

“Please sit,” He said, taking a nipple into his mouth, “On my face.”

You sat in a slightly worried daze, Spencer catching the clue to just move you into the position. You found yourself facing the mirror at the foot of your bed, your ass in his face as he grabbed at your hips, trying to bring you higher and get a taste.

“Are you sure?” You apprehensively twisted your torso to eye him, taking note that the two of you had came across something you’d quite done before.

“Yes, I need you to.” Spencer reached his arm around, gently rubbing your clit, and feeling how your whole body relaxed from above him, as he repeated affirmations against your back.

You watched from the mirror, your ass propped up in his face and lips swollen. You could even see when you began the swivel of your hips into him. He didn’t need to say much else before you arched your back, planting your pussy right above his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispered, before running his tongue flatly against your pussy.

Your hips jerked back and fourth, riding on the surface of his tongue that enveloped your clit, sucking on it harshly until he flatly ran it up. His fingers were back at work, touching the places where his tongue couldn’t reach. You determined that this position was now one of your favorites, your hands that were once placed on the tops of his thighs reaching for the bludge in his boxers.

You tried pulling them just far enough so you could begin to run your hands up and down his cock. Spencer’s tongue only assaulted your clit harder when you leaned down, allowing him a new angle so you could push him into your mouth, collecting the precum that had spilt, humming in delight.

Spencer couldn’t stop the thrusting of his hips upwards, burying himself deeper down your throat, both of your moans viberating off the atoms in your room. Your eyes wandered up as you watched, hypnotized at the reflection of you two. It made you wanna take his dick deeper, taking him to the back of your throat as you felt his cum ripple out.

Your orgasm only took a few more seconds to follow his, your moan muffled from your jaw expanded around his cock. Your hasty breaths harbored his while you saw stars. You were casted out of your stupor when you felt the palm of his hand rub circles into your ass, hand coming down in a smack.

“This fucking pussy has me whipped.” Spencer sighed, pressing a kiss exactly where his hand last struck.

When you positioned yourself back across his abdomen, you kneeled, kissing him. You felt him twitch under you from tasting himself on your tongue, reaching down to line up his cock to enter you.

Spencer stared up at you, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you slowly descending your pussy on his cock. His hands traced the hickies that dawned on your chest, then to his on his lower stomach, watching how the two of you connected. These were marks of possession— ones that he could finally show off.

You rolled your hips against his, slowly circling them and allowing him to hit the most sensitive parts of you. You felt so much fuller than usual, the feeling taking your breath away. Nobody else could reach those heights that Spencer gave you. Maybe it was also because nobody else could occupy your mind like he could, either.

He pulled you down so the two of you could reunite your lips, wearing away at the callouses that had formed around your heart. His thumb drew slow circles on your clit, pulling your orgasm out so you could cum above him. It took a few more thrusts before he came inside you, continuing to fuck his seed back into you from below for just a while longer. When Spencer’s hips stilled, he kept inside, basking in the embodiment of you that wholly consumed him.

He silently traced the outlines of your features, your eye lids fluttering as he reached to them. His fingernails scratched your scalp im a rythem that lulled you into hazy exhaustion. You feel his stare on your face as it occurs to him that he was doomed from the start. You were a wonder to behold.

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Did you forget all of the things I remember?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

masterlist

[ibis-gt]

i made a fairytale au for cam and luther and then wrote nearly 5k words of fic for it?? which is wild bc i am not much of a writer. but. that’s under the cut. content warning for a pretty violent scene towards the end but there’s a happy ending i prommy

Once upon a time, there lived a prince. This prince, Luther by name, lived in a kingdom that was plagued by monsters. His father, the king, had gained his throne by feats of heroism, most notably by slaying a fearsome dragon that had ruled the land for years. The time came for Luther to prove he was worthy of the title of prince by slaying a monster of his own… 

Down in the countryside, farmers have been complaining for weeks of an ogre stealing their cattle and frightening their children. So Luther sets off in a splendid suit of armor, with a sword sheathed on one hip, a quiver of arrows on the other, and his bow slung on his back.

Luther rides his horse down to the village where the ogre was last spotted. He talks with the locals and gets a description of the creature. At least forty feet tall, they say, with greenish-grey skin and dark hair and teeth the length of a man’s forearm. Luther leaves his horse behind with the farmers because he doesn’t want her getting hurt and marches off, following a set of giant footprints left behind by the ogre, sword in hand. He would have to admit that he isn’t the best at sword fighting, and that really he’s never faced a monster on his own. But his father gave him a crucial tip: every monster has a weak point. Find the weak point, exploit it, and you’ll win every time. 

The footprints lead through the plains of grass, past the area where the farmers let their cattle out to graze, and into a dark forest. The sun is going down before he manages to find the ogre, so he sets up a little camp with a little fire and rests his tired bones. His armor isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it takes forever to get on and off even with someone helping him, let alone by himself. He sits with his back to a big boulder so nothing can sneak up behind him and eventually drifts off.

Luther awakens the next morning and groans at how stiff and sore he is. He sits up and pauses, brow furrowed, remembering that he’d gone to bed sitting upright. But just now, he’d been lying on his back. And he’s not the best tracker, but those giant footprints look… disconcertingly fresh. These things add up in his mind. He just about passes out. He crouches down and puts his head between his knees for a moment until he can breathe again and his heart stops pounding quite so hard. He was right next to it! He fell asleep leaning on it! If his father heard about this he’d give him such a beating. How could he not have noticed that the boulder was actually - 

His stomach rumbles, interrupting his panicked thoughts, and Luther remembers that the last time he ate was back in that farming village around two in the afternoon yesterday. He digs out a bit of beef jerky and morosely works at it. His father swears by the stuff, but it just makes his teeth hurt. Luther dreams of the kitchens back home and drools a little.

He gives up on the jerky and manages to take down a couple squirrels with his bow and arrows. He gets his fire blazing again and sets them cooking over it, and sits down to draw in the dirt and form a battle plan. He gets wrapped up in his drawing and loses track of time, but is startled violently back to reality as a deep booming voice from behind him says, “Your squirrel’s burning.”

Luther’s eyes snap up to the fire. He hastily pulls the stick with his squirrels off of it, waving it in the air to put out the bit of squirrel that had caught fire. He blows on it and inspects the damage. Not too bad, a little charred. Still definitely edible. Then realization dawns, and he slowly looks up and over his shoulder.

That’s the ogre. He’s unmistakable. Huge, greyish-green, with shaggy black hair and big tusks that jut out of his mouth. He’s down on one knee looming over Luther, modesty barely preserved by a loincloth stitched together out of the pelts of many different furry animals. Luther wills himself to not faint for the second time that day. 

“You gonna eat that?” The ogre booms. “’Cause I will if you won’t.”

“W-well, yes, I was planning to,” Luther quavers, “But there are two, so, um, you can have one if you want? We can share?”

He takes the non-burned squirrel off the stick and holds it up. His hand only shakes a little. The ogre takes it carefully between thumb and forefinger and tosses it in his mouth. With such a tiny morsel, he’d usually just swallow it whole, but an interesting flavor makes him stop and savor it for a moment. 

“What’d you do to it? Not like any squirrel I’ve eaten. And I’ve eaten a whole army of squirrels.” He slaps a hand on his formidable belly. The sound makes Luther jump. 

“I- I didn’t do much, j-just some seasoning, I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, please don’t eat me next." 

"You?” The ogre laughs. “Why would I eat you? You shared your food with me. That’s mighty polite. I’d say that makes us friends now, and I don’t eat friends.” He grunts as he shifts position, sitting down heavily and stretching out his legs. “Bad knees,” he grumbles. “Sat like that too long, but I wanted to see what you were drawing." 

Luther is now horrifically aware that he is directly between the ogre’s legs. He is also horrifically aware that he was drawing himself hitting an ogre with a sword. He hurriedly kicks some dirt over it. 

"Nothing. Nothing interesting. I’m a bad artist anyway.”

“Sure. What’s your name, little tin man? You didn’t seem too talkative when you snuggled up to me last night, but I thought maybe you were just tired. I’m Cam." 

"L-Luther.” Oh god. He was supposed to kill this thing, it - well, no, not ‘it’, he can’t think of Cam as an ‘it’ now he knows his name - he’s terrorizing folks, stealing their livelihoods, he’s supposed to drive him away, save the day, bring peace to the kingdom. Instead he’s sharing his meager breakfast and making friends with the monster. How did it all go so wrong!!

“So, Luther, you made of metal? I thought you were gonna take all that off, looks pretty uncomfortable, but you wore it all night. Unless it’s like… you?" 

"No, no, um, it’s just… it takes a long time to put it on and take it off? And I usually need help.”

 "Well shoot, friend, why didn’t you say so?“ Before Luther can object, a giant hand descends and plucks him up. He panics, struggles in Cam’s grasp, and Cam tsks at him. "I can’t get all that off you if you don’t hold still. Don’t make me squeeze." 

Luther goes still. If Cam squeezes the armor, it’ll stay squeezed. He wouldn’t want to still be in it if that happens. Cam clearly has no idea how to get someone out of armor though. He just pulls at clasps and buckles till they break, then shucks the metal off of Luther like an ear of corn. His helmet comes off first, freeing his dark brown curls.

“Aww,” Cam says, “lookit you. You’re kinda cute for a tin man.” He musses up Luther’s hair with a fingertip. "You’re like a little crab,” Cam chuckles. “Crack open the hard shell to get to the soft stuff underneath.” The food metaphor does not put Luther any more at ease as the rest of his armor is pulled off and tossed aside, piece by piece. Cam even strips the chainmail off of him and dumps it on the ground. This leaves Luther in his shirt and breeches, shaking like a leaf and terrified for his life. 

“Oh, you cold? Here, I gotcha.” Cam sandwiches him between his hands. Luther awaits the pressure and the horrible crunch that will no doubt be the end of his short life, but it never comes. Cam just holds him there, and truth be told his hands are very warm, and it had been a chilly morning. Luther relaxes very slightly.

After a few minutes, Cam lifts one hand a little and peeks at Luther. “Better?" 

"Much better, thank you. Even a little too warm, actually? Can I, um, come out now?" 

Cam laughs and opens his hands like a book, then tilts them so Luther tumbles into the palm of his left hand. "So what’s a fancy little shrimp like you doing all the way out here, with that tough shell and those sharp weapons? You huntin’ something?" 

Luther hesitates. It’s not… technically a lie, just an omission of truth, right? "Yeees…. Hunting.”

Cam laughs out loud, leaning back and slapping his knee with his free hand. “HA! You are just about the worst liar I ever met, Luther. Whew.” He actually wipes a tear from his eye. Luther feels his face heating up with anger and embarrassment.

“I am hunting! I’m hunting you!” As soon as he says it he regrets it. He slaps his hands over his mouth and cowers back as Cam sits up straight again and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“That so? Huh. Well, you found me, oh mighty hunter. And you fed me, and let me take your armor off you, and left all your sharp things on the ground while you sit in the palm of my hand. So, uh… how’s that goin’ for ya?”

“It… I… um… please don’t kill me?”

Cam grins. It’s not a nice grin anymore. It shows off too many teeth. “Lotsa folks have hunted me, you know. Not a one has succeeded. Most of ‘em can’t find me in the first place, not unless I want them to. Neat little trick we ogres have. We blend in well. The ones who did find me, they regretted it pretty quick. When I heard you clanking along with your silly armor and your little sword, I thought oh boy, here comes another one. But it turns out this one couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map, so he ain’t one of them legendary monster hunters lookin’ to claim some bounty. And he’s a little scrawny slip of a thing, too, and he keeps stopping to look at birds. I kinda liked you. And honestly, when you found me, it took me by surprise. Thought I had you pegged all wrong. Then you made your little fire, curled up next to me, and went to sleep, and it took everything I had not to bust my gut laughing right then and there. And now… well, I don’t rightly know what to make of you. Cute little thing, I know that. But cute won’t save you if you wanna tussle with me. So, little hunter… what’re you gonna do now?”

Luther’s nearly in tears. He manages to say, “Then… were you just… toying with me? This whole time? Waiting to see what I’d do?" 

Cam shrugs. "Pretty much.” That does it. The waterworks are in full swing. Luther’s chin trembles, his lower lip wobbles, and then tears are streaming down his face and he’s sobbing. 

“Y- you’re s-so-ho meeeaaaan,” Luther wails. “Y-you’re j-just making f-fun of me, I thought w-we were friends!” 

Cam has absolutely no idea how to respond to this. For some reason he actually feels guilty. “Aw - no - now look, there’s no call for - just… just stop crying, okay? Please?” Luther continues to sob, heedless of Cam’s pleading. “There, there,” Cam tries, patting Luther’s head. “I’m not going to kill you. Okay? How’s that? I’m sorry I called you - well. All those things. I’m sure you’re a great hunter. Look, you got those squirrels. And hey! That one I ate tasted great. You got some real skill there." 

Luther wipes his eyes and looks up, teetering dangerously on the edge of another sobbing fit. His eyes are all watery and a little red-rimmed. "R-really?" 

"Yes! Of course!” Cam clings to the compliment like a life preserver. “I bet you’re like, like the king’s cook or something, right? Cause you’re the best in the land?" 

Luther’s face crumples a little and he looks down, mutters something. 

"What?” Cam holds him up a little closer to his ear. 

“’m his son,” Luther mumbles again. 

“His son? You’re a prince? And you’re all - oh, hell.” Now he’s really put his foot in it. Luther bursts into tears again and curls up in a little ball.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I - oh, ugh, you’re getting my hand all wet.” Cam picks him up between thumb and forefinger and shakes the little tear droplets off his palm. “Now look here,” he says, attempting a sterner approach. “You’re a prince, all right? You can’t be crying and going to pieces just ‘cause some big bad monster was mean to you. You gotta kill big bad monsters, right? So here’s what you’re gonna do.” Cam sets him down gently, picks up his sword and hands it to him. “There you go. You’re gonna take that sword, right, and you’re gonna really let me have it. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?“ 

Luther purses his lips and looks up at him. "But… all I can hit from here is your foot. That’s no good. I need a shot at something vital." 

"Oh fine, fine, Mr. Picky,” Cam grumbles. He shuffles his legs to the side and leans down til he’s practically laying on his belly. “Face shot. Free one for ya. Go on, hit something good.” Luther considers. Just as Cam realizes how ridiculous this whole thing is, he draws his sword back and plunges it into Cam’s eye.

- Almost plunges it into Cam’s eye. The ogre moves suddenly, turning his head to the side to avoid the blow. Luther makes a deep gash in Cam’s cheek, and Cam roars. “Oh, you sly little shit. Very good, very sneaky. You almost had me there. Fine. We do this the hard way.”

He gets to his feet, draws himself up to his full, impressive height, and looks down at the dirt where Luther was a moment ago. Cam blinks in surprise. “Where’d you… goddammit…” He looks around, trying to catch a glimpse of where Luther could’ve gotten to. 

Luther was not about to let the golden opportunity to run and hide during a big dramatic show of power go to waste. He slides into a patch of underbrush, catches his breath, and takes stock. He has no armor, no food, no bow or arrows. Those are all back at his camp, which is currently ogre territory. He has one sword that he’s okay at using. The ogre has the homefield advantage, and some kind of ability, possibly magical, to hide himself from those who want to find him. Luther shouldn’t let him out of his sight. But he should work on camouflaging himself. He takes a handful of dirt and smears it on his face and shirt. The sword he can’t do much about, he’ll just have to try and keep it from glinting. He glances to his left, away from where Cam still stands, turning in circles and peering around. Luther had only gone a little ways into the woods before he stopped for camp last night. He can almost see the forest’s edge from here. He could dart for the grasslands and try to make it back to the village, but he’d be in plain sight as soon as he’s out of the trees and there’s no guarantee Cam won’t just follow him all the way back. The further he goes into the trees the more firmly he is in Cam’s territory, but the more coverage he has. 

Possibilities begin swirling around in his head. His best bet is trickery rather than a face to face confrontation. He’s got a running list in his mind of Cam’s weak points now. Food, monologuing, emotional outbursts. Although that last one’s probably off the table now. Bursting into tears isn’t going to get him out of a second pinch. Bad knees - if he can trip Cam up, he can get a shot at his face again, maybe cut his throat or get at his soft belly and sides. Cam’s a talker and likes to gloat, maybe if he gets him distracted by looking pathetic he could get him to walk right into a trap of some kind. He likes food… but Luther doesn’t have the resources to make a big feast to distract him or sate him, just a pouchful of seasoning that he never leaves home without. His lip wobbles again as he thinks about how that’s back at his camp… he may never see his precious seasonings again.

Meanwhile, Cam is getting frustrated. “Well, the little shit can’t have gone far,” he grumbles. “Just gotta flush 'im out.” Luther watches, petrified, as Cam lumbers over to a nearby patch of underbrush and without warning stomps down on it hard, twisting his foot and smashing every inch of it. He steps back and leans down to inspect what’s left. Luther bites his lip hard to stifle a whimper. 

“Nope, not there,” Cam announces. “Eeney, meeney, miney…..” Another bunch of bushes are mercilessly ground into the dirt. “Moe. Hmmm. Where are you?”

Luther can’t stay in his hiding place for long. It’s only a matter of time before Cam gets to him. He needs an opening to make a break for it though, if he runs now Cam will spot him right away. As slowly as he dares, he picks up a large, flat rock, then skims it like a frisbee off to his right, where it hits a tree with a satisfying thock. Cam whirls around, and Luther bolts out of the brush. Cam hears the leaves rustling and turns back around, catching sight of him as he flees. 

“There you are! Hold on now, don’t go running off! I just wanna talk, I swear. The whole monster-slaying prince thing not working out for ya? I got a better job offer! You can be my dinner!” Luther keeps sprinting as fast as he can, not even bothering to glance behind him. The last thing he needs is to miss a fallen branch or a groundhog hole and trip.

On flat, open land, the ogre would outpace him easily. But if he can get deeper into the forest where the trees are closer together, that could slow him down enough for Luther to get some distance and hide again, have a moment to breathe and think so he can work on his plan. He’s starting to get an idea of what he’ll need. He needs the element of surprise for sure, and he needs more than just his sword. If he had some rope he could set up a tripwire, maybe. He curses himself for not taking his father’s advice about packing, for letting Cam strip him, for being too weak and scared to do anything when he had the chance, for being born in the first place. His eyes well up with tears and he scrubs at them furiously. He can’t afford to have his sight blurred right now, he needs to keep his head clear and keep moving. He can hear Cam’s thudding footsteps behind him, gaining quickly. He can cover so much more ground in a single step. It’s simply not fair. The little bit of distance he was able to gain with his rock trick is disappearing fast and it won’t be long before he’s in arm’s reach.

Almost as if he can read his thoughts, Cam lunges forward and takes a swipe at him, trying to knock him off his feet. Luther hits the deck and Cam overbalances, stumbling and crashing into a tree. The tree snaps when his weight collides with it, and Cam has to windmill his arms to keep from falling over. Luther scrambles to his feet and keeps running. He even manages to put on an extra burst of speed when he hears Cam roar with frustration behind him. He’s not as fast as he could be because he’s lugging the sword along with him, but he doesn’t dare drop it. It proves its usefulness in the next minute. Cam closes the distance and grabs for him. Luther sees the shadow fall over him and whirls around, lashing out at the reaching hand. He slices across Cam’s palm, and Cam howls with pain and pulls back. Luther dashes away, and Cam stomps his foot in frustration. 

"Hold still, dammit! You’re just making it worse for yourself!” He takes off after Luther again, but his stamina’s flagging. It’s harder for a creature his size to haul himself around and he’s used to running down his prey in the first minutes of the chase. This has dragged on long enough to tire him out, but he’s not willing to give up just yet. “When I get my hands on you, tin man, you’re paste,” he growls. “They’re gonna have to come up with new words for how dead you’re gonna be.”

The trees start getting close enough together that Luther has to dodge around them from time to time. He can hear Cam behind him crashing through them, spluttering as he gets a face full of branches and leaves. Luther smiles to himself. That’s nice, at least. At last he gathers up his nerve and dodges to the side behind a particularly large tree, hoping that Cam’s too busy navigating the foliage to notice. His gamble pays off. A few seconds later, the ogre goes lumbering past him without so much as a sideways glance. Luther waits just a moment more, then bolts in the opposite direction.

He’s got a plan now. He probably won’t be able to find Cam again, but Cam can find him. So he’ll set up an ambush. He circles back around to his camp and grabs his supplies as quickly as he can, his bow and arrow, his helmet, his tinderbox, and most importantly, his seasoning. He hunts for deer, takes down a decent-sized buck, and sets up a new campfire, deep in the woods, where the trees are close. He’s hoping that Cam will think that Luther thinks he’s safe in there, and that the smell of the meat cooking will lure Cam in. He takes off his shirt and fills it with twigs and leaves, sets his helmet up on a stick driven into the ground, and makes a decently convincing decoy Luther that he leans against a log. The helmet tilts at an angle that makes it look like he’s fallen asleep. With that set up, and night closing in, Luther climbs up a nearby tree and waits, sword in hand.

He doesn’t watch the fire. He wants to keep his night vision sharp. And sure enough, before too long here comes Cam, moving surprisingly quietly for his size. He squeezes through the trees with barely a rustling of leaves. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the fire and the silhouette that the decoy makes against it. Cam gets right behind the decoy and slams his foot down on it. He grinds it into the dirt with a relish that makes Luther shudder. Then Cam looks at the deer cooking with that lovely smell rising off it, and his eyes go big and shiny. As Cam bends down to pick it up, Luther chooses his moment. He drops like a stone and buries his sword lengthwise in the back of Cam’s neck. The impact sends a jolt up his arms and he hangs on as tight as he can. Cam lets out a garbled scream of pain and collapses face first on the ground. Luther gets to his feet, pulls his sword out with some difficulty, takes a deep breath, and begins to chop.

It’s messy, horrible work. By the third swing tears are rolling down Luther’s cheeks. By the seventh, he’s sobbing. After the twenty-third cut, Cam’s head is finally severed, and rolls to the side. Luther stumbles back. He’s trembling, covered in blood, panting and crying, but it’s finally done. 

And then Cam’s head says, “Wow, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Luther watches, dumbfounded, as Cam’s body sits up, searches around with its hands, locates his head, and puts it back on his shoulders as the flesh knits together again. Luther drops his sword in disbelief. He falls to his knees. That was it. That was all he had. He can’t even imagine what he could do against a foe who can just reattach his own head. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Okay. Um. Make it quick, please?” Cam had been planning to crunch the little shit once he was back on his feet, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at how despondent Luther looks.

“Aw, no, no, don’t give up so quick! Really, you almost had me!” Cam scoops him up and pats him on the head. “Look, it was a good effort. I’m sure if you had known I can’t be killed, you wouldn’t have spent all that time and energy trying to kill me. Just do a little more research next time, yeah?" 

"Next time,” Luther repeats, and gives a hollow laugh. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I’m not welcome as part of the royal family if I can’t kill a monster. Even my sister’s done her first slaying already. A whole nest of vampires! And I can’t kill one measly ogre." 

"Hey, watch who you’re calling measly,” Cam warns, but his heart isn’t in it. “Jeez. You’ve got some issues, kid. Not much of a fighter, I take it?" 

Luther shakes his head and sighs. "I’m just not very good at it." 

"Well they chose one hell of a first mission for you, that’s for sure. Ogres are tricky ones. We’ve got a lot of defense mechanisms.” Cam thinks for a moment. “You know what you are good at, though? You’re a good talker. Very convincing. I mean, you really had me going, with the crying and all? It was a really good ruse." 

Luther bites his lip. "Um…" 

"Okay, so it was for real and not a ruse. But you made the best of a bad situation! That’s also a good skill for a ruler to have. You just gotta show your family that your skills are less conventional, but still effective! Like, okay, why do you have to kill me? What’d I do?" 

“You’re eating all the farmers’ cattle and scaring people." 

"I thought free range meant I had free reign. Eh? Eh?” Cam pokes Luther in the ribs. Luther frowns at him. “Oh, fine, whatever. No sense of humor. You know, that’s pretty important for a king too. Yeah, all right, I’ll leave the cows alone." 

"And the sheep,” Luther says sharply. “And the pigs, and chickens." 

"I haven’t eaten any pigs or chickens,” Cam protests. 

“Not yet. I’m being proactive." 

"There you go!” Cam says, beaming. “There’s that negotiator skill! But seriously, if I can’t eat the cows and sheep I’ve got to eat something. Can you make it worth my while? 'Cause I’m not going back to squirrels." 

"Well…” Luther says slowly. “What if… I hire you?" 

"You… hire me?" 

"Yeah. Like, as a bodyguard or something. Then I’d have to pay you, right? I could pay you in food?” 

Cam is quiet for a moment. He brings Luther up closer to his face and scrutinizes him. Luther’s heart is pounding out of his chest. For a moment he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake and offended Cam and it’s all over for him. "You’re serious? Not kidding me, here? That’s your offer?”

“Y-yes? Is that… is it bad?" 

"Bad? Bad? That’s the best offer I’ve ever heard! Pay me in food? HELL yes, kid! That’s what I like to hear!” The force of Cam’s enthusiasm knocks Luther over on his back. He stares at the sky for a moment. His life is so goddamn weird.

~~~~~~~~~

Luther’s father’s dragon slaying days are behind him. He’s an old man now. He has good days and bad days, but even on his best days he frequently needs help getting around. But when he sees that giant ogre enter his royal halls, he reaches for his spear. Luther eases it out of his hand. 

“No, see, it’s okay. I didn’t kill him, but I stopped him terrorizing the countryside, and I kind of… hired him. As my bodyguard. This was easier, and we both benefit, see? Also, um, were you going to tell me ogres are immortal?" 

"You were supposed to figure something out,” his father says. “Since you’re so damned smart." 

"Well, I did figure something out. Just… maybe not what you wanted me to." 

Cam waves lazily. "Hi, Yer Majesty." 

"Cam,” Luther hisses. “We talked about this." 

"Oh, fine, fine,” Cam grumbles, and takes a knee to bow low before the king. “I humbly pledge my service to your son,” he intones, hamming it up just a little. “Please allow me to protect him from all harms, and so on." 

The king glares. His stabbing hand is itching. But he doesn’t currently have a better plan, and this’ll keep the peasants quiet for a bit. "Fine,” he spits, “But you’re taking care of him. Feeding him, walking him, cleaning up after him, whatever. No getting the servants to do it for you. He’s your responsibility now." 

Cam grins at Luther. "So, speaking of feeding… when’s dinner?”

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.1

Twenty-four hours, thirty minutes, ten seconds and counting.  Xiao continued to pace outside of Dawn Winery in complete silence.  He still hadn't heard a single word from you, and he had stayed awake all night.  Not really a sacrifice since he pulled all-nighters frequently, but his hopes were crushed when his long night was filled with nothing but silence.

Inside, Aether approached Diluc rather quickly with Paimon in tow.  "How would you like to kill Fatui?"

"I beg your pardon?"  Diluc set his glass of grape juice on his desk.  He had been busy with mapping the next wine delivery route when they suddenly barged through his doors.  He kind of wished they had the kindness to knock, but the desperate glints in their eyes caught him off guard.

"We said, how would you like to kill the Fatui?" Paimon crossed her arms.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya.  They took her."

"'Her?'"  Diluc raised a brow, already annoyed by the vagueness of their requests.

"Ugh, the same girl from yesterday! Who earned her cryo vision!  She was taken last night at your tavern! Didn't you see us all run out?"  Paimon's brows furrowed impatiently.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya," Aether repeated and took a step forward.  "We can't do it without you on our team."

"Hold on," Diluc waved a hand to silence them.  "We can't just infiltrate a foreign country.  There are laws and regulations you have to--"

"That's why we came to you!" Paimon yelled.  "If anyone can get us in there, it's you and your underground connections!"

"You hate the Fatui more than anything," Aether continued.  "Will you help us?"

Diluc thought for a moment while he traced the rim of his glass with his index finger.  "We can't recklessly barge into enemy territory.  I'll see what intel I can gather.  Wait here."

Xiao burst through the doors almost as if he had seen a ghost--actually, that would be an inaccurate metaphor since he's quite experienced with the spirits of the dead.  No matter.  He burst through the doors as pale as a sheet.  "I hear her."

..................................................

You glared at the third plate of food that sat upon the stool Childe left in your cell.  You had refused to eat the prior two meals while he was in the cell with you.  He had your cuffs unlocked so you could eat, but you refused to move from your place against the wall.  Cooked fish, some sort of vegetable, and white rice.  They were treating you well.  You were needed alive and healthy, after all, but you weren't hungry.  And since Childe had finally left you alone, well, that gave you the chance to talk to the only person you could.

Xiao.  Xiao! The thought of startling him brought a thin smile to your lips.  I wonder if I scared you...I'm safe--well, as safe as I can be at the moment.  I miss you... Your smile faded.  But I  cannot call for you.  It's too dangerous; I'm sure they already have a way to capture you.  Now that I know you're always listening, it's nice to talk like this.  Less lonely.  

Something clinked against the outer cell door, and it opened.  Childe and one of the harbingers you saw yesterday entered.  The latter held a strange white-and-gray mask that obscured everything besides part of his right cheek and lips.  His bluish-white hair almost seemed to brighten the small room from how light it was.

"It's a sign of disrespect if you refuse to eat the food provided for you," Childe commented once he saw that your plate was yet again untouched.  "We're treating you with more hospitality than our prisoners, after all."

"This is still imprisonment.  Screw off," you brought your knees to your chest as if your legs served to protect you from their stares.

"Ah, yes," the other harbinger picked the plate up and placed it at your feet.  "My test subject needs to eat.  I suggest you do it by your own will before I see to it myself."  

"You might want to listen to him."  Childe was warning you, but not out of consideration for you.

"Go to hell!" You threw the plate at the new harbinger since he was closest, and covered his tidy suit in food.  The white rice mostly clung to the fabric.  Thank the archons that your shoulder was healed and your arm could be put to good use now.

"Listen here, you little--"  The man grabbed you by the collar and lifted you like you weighed nothing until your feet dangled above the ground.  "I don't have the patience of the Tsaritsa's war dog.  I do things quite differently, and you are under my jurisdiction now.  See to it that you follow my orders to the tee, or I can make things very unpleasant here on out."  He dropped you to the floor and exited the cell.

Childe gave you a look of 'I told you so' as he followed suite.

...............................................

What day is it? Your hazy mind stared at the opposite wall.  You lazily traced figure-eights over your tattered jeans.  Approximately twenty-one meals were served--and wasted-- so maybe it was day seven?  A full week of sitting in this barren room?

A few days of no nutrition were of no consequence to you; you were a light eater anyway.  But by day five you were beginning to get dizzy from your voluntary starvation.  You slept most of the day.  The slightest of movements made the world spin around you.  Thoughts of giving in and digging into the meals crossed your mind several times.

I will not falter.  They will not get what they need from me.  I'll starve before they can have me, you gave yourself the pep talk over and over again.  The hours that were filled with zero social interaction drove you mad; you'd either talk to yourself, or to Xiao, who you only hoped could still hear you and maybe even reply in his own mind.  It was a shame the conversation couldn't go both ways.

"I miss you," you murmured a breath.  "If I get out of this, would you like to go eat almond tofu with me?"

Childe entered quietly, and knelt in front of you after giving your full plate the side-eye.  "This little hunger strike of yours needs to stop.  You need to eat."  You didn't answer, and he let out a small sigh.  "Il Dottore finished his set-up this morning.  I'm sure he'll be ready to take you from under my watch by tomorrow at the latest."  He sat down now, and examined you carefully.  

I didn't think we'd break her this quickly,  he thought.  Such a stubborn personality reduced to this pathetic heap of a woman.  A slim smile spread across his lips when he realized how much he loved watching you break under the pressure.

"Leave," you breathed.

"You're smarter than I thought, you know."  Childe placed his chin on the hand that was propped up on his leg.  "If you really thought he had a chance at defeating us, you would have called for Xiao by now.  You've isolated yourself from the only person that caught your eye."

That's what you think, you scoffed.  I've been talking to him this whole damn time.

"Or have you been praying to him?"  Childe's eyes narrowed and the grin on his lips only widened.  The small glance you sent him validated his question.  "You're telling me that this great and mighty adeptus has heard your suffering, and has yet to do a single thing about it?  Are you really sure he's reliable? Oh, ojou-chan," he clicked his tongue and shook his head at you.  "He won't neglect his duties to protect Liyue to come save you."

"You don't know him like I do," a bit of fighting spirit entered your hoarse voice, and your eyes began to glow.

"Oh, but I do.  An ancient yaksha that's at least half the age of Morax himself, falling in love with a human girl?  Is that what you're expecting from him?"  The words cut deeper than his blade had cut through your shoulder.  "You really believe such a hardened soul could learn to love in as quickly as a single human lifetime?  Ojou-chan, open your eyes.  He does not care for you, and he couldn't even if he tried.  Look around you, ojou-chan.  You're still here, in this dark cell, and he's where?  In Mondstat? Liyue?  He doesn't seem to care all too much about you."

"That's because I told him to stay away," you growled, eyes shining brighter.  You curled your fists and prepared to strike him if he had the audacity to continue spewing nonsense.  "You know, you have your entire life to be a jerk.  Why don't you take today off?"

"Even if he did save you, there's no future with him.  You will continue to chase after the illusion of love with him for the rest of your life, only to die alone with your youth wasted.  Even if you escaped, you would be on the run for your entire life, hiding away from the preying eyes of the Fatui.  Is that worth an escape, if you can no longer truly live?

"You're better off working with us, following Dottore's orders, and gaining the trust of the Tsaritsa.  You can make a life for yourself here if you decide to survive.  But out there," he pointed toward the cell door.  "Out there, you will not live."

"You know, your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth!"  You yelled as he exited the cell.  Your plate collided with the door right as it closed.  Hot tears stained your cheeks once you were left alone.

He's only trying to break you into submission, you soothed yourself as you hugged your legs.  They felt thinner than usual.  He's just trying to break me.  But why do his words...make me feel so upset?  You buried your face into your knees.  Maybe he's right.

......................................................

"So the guard schedules all overlap? There's no way in?"  Paimon looked over the scattered notes on Diluc's table.  Most of them held ineligible scribbles on them, and she furrowed her brows because of it.

"This was all you were able to gather in a week?"  Aether pulled at his hair and sighed heavily.

"Not many are willing to oppose the Fatui," said Diluc.  "It took all my resources to get this much.  We don't know the interior layout of the castle other than the main exits and entrances.  But I did manage to find us a caravan that leaves at dawn tomorrow."

"Finally!"  Paimon huffed.  "Something useful!"

"I am sorry I haven't been of use to you all," Zhongli bowed his head in a sincere apology.  "It has been years since I've last seen Snezhnaya and the cryo archon."  You meant a great deal to the group, and Zhongli probably took your abduction the hardest since he could not intervene with the Tsaritsa and her plans.

"At least we finally have enough of a foundation to squeeze out a plan!"

"Have you heard from her at all today, Xia--?"  Aether interrupted himself.  "Are...you okay?"

All eyes turned to antisocial yaksha that stood at the back of the room.  It was a small thing the traveler had noticed, but it was significant enough that it totally contradicted everything Xiao was.

He was crying.

First,  you asked to eat with him when this was all over.  Then an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness flooded his mind like a tsunami.  A single tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away.  A tear?

"Stay out of my way," he disappeared from the room and manifested outside.  What was this unfamiliar clenching in his chest?  This clenching in his throat?  The way his hands tingled and his eyes stung?  The afternoon sun seemed to worsen it.

"Xiao," a deep voice spoke behind him, and he turned to face it.  Zhongli placed a large hand on the yaksha's head and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he released his grip, he too, felt the same pain in his chest.  

"She's in pain," the yaksha murmured.  "Every day she grows weaker.  Her strength, it...diminishes."  While it was a blessing to know you were alive, it was also a curse.  He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you prayed, and the way you hesitate to speak to him each passing day.  The centuries of hardened walls blocking the yaksha from emotion grew weaker the more you did.

"Your bond has grown," the archon explained the physical and mental phenomena Xiao was being put through.  "You feel her emotions, just as she feels yours."

"Rid me of them," Xiao ordered.  "I have no need for the emotions of a human."

"She is no longer the only one that holds human emotions.  You care for her deeply, do you not?"  No answer. Blank stare. "I'm certain you've contemplated and understood my words in Qingce Village by now."  Zhongli's eyes followed the ascending path of two cranes flying overhead.  "You wish to rescue her, even though Liyue requires your protection?  You're worried I won't grant your request?"

"...Yes."

"Worry no longer; it is granted.  But be warned, Guardian Yaksha, emotions cannot be permanently ignored.  They will rise to the forefront sooner or later,"  his gaze returned to Xiao's.  "You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave."

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins​ on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns. 

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

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Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner​