#Look at how brilliant the green stands out!

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

The Mayor would remove his cane from beneath the other limbless' chin. He would begin to walk over to a display case within the room and unlocked it with a key he pulled from his pocket. He would take out a large hat with a golden star on it. He would also pull an old photograph out and slips it into his pocket for now. He would bring the hat over and allowed Rayman to inspect it.

"Yes. I am from Dimension X. I think I hail from a different one. The one your brother and Raymona came from."

"Wait... That's a magician's hat... The blonde hair... the purple suit... Oh my god. You're... You're The Magician. Rayman's--"

The Mayor would give a small chuckle as he carefully slid the bangs away from his eyes. It was like they were looking at an older Rayman. Nearly identical in facial structure. He just has longer hair and had signs of more aging. He would set the hat down and would take the photograph out of his pockets to show to Rayman and Raymona. It showed a Nymph dressed in green, and long flowing red hair. Next to her was The Mayor in that hat with the star. His cane was being held like a wand. In the center was two children. Rayman and Raymona, who were posing with each other. There was another figure standing beside the adults. A fairy of some sort with brilliant purple hair and a tail to match.

"That's they used to call me, but that was so long ago. I was alerted to an alternate version of Rayman running around and I had asked Murfy to keep an eye on you three. You have no idea how long I have been fighting with The Emperor so I could be given a chance to reunite with my son.

You might not be the same Rayman, but you are still one. I will not turn you away. I think you were brought to us for a reason. The Emperor and I just don't seem to agree on what that reason is."

His heart was beating faster and faster each step that he was giving his heart was louder in his chest, his nervousness was sky high. He swallowed hard as he took Mona's hand to comfort each other but also comfort himself a bit after everything he needs it.

After they entered into the room, the blonde at hear the voice started to think in the worse, he wasn't this nervous until he saw Bullfrog for the same time behind that glass... 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 ����𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒... 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝘩𝑜𝑤... 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝘩𝑦 ﹖𝐻𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑈𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎, 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚. It wasn't until he saw the other's face that he started to change his expression from terror to confussion.

“ 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎... 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ﹖𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠... 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢... 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎... 𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 ﹖𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛... ”

He didn't remember but that sense of calm was present in the air like he knows somehow that the Mayor doesn't mean harm...

“ 𝚈𝚘𝚞... 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 ﹖𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛 ﹖”

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞... 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐀 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰... 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 !!

[ylove-bandaesthetics]

Bands & Monsters! ☠️🤘🏼

Au/Ra + Deuce Gorgon! 🐍

“Almost left my sunglasses at home this morning… That could have been a stone-cold disaster.”

[auroreliis]

Honestly if I was batsis I'd pretend to have a crush on the batboys close friends(excluding Damian because he and Jon are still babies) just to annoy them. Jason bring Roy over? Suddenly I'm very interested in his tattoo's and I want to know all about archery. I catch kon in the kitchen in Tim? Suddenly i'm very into the conversation they're having and am making eye contact a lot with Kon. I feel liked they'd do something like this; Batsis: You know I really like your tattoos. Roy: Oh thanks. Jason: ... You gotta go, like, now. Roy: What-

Brilliant, anon!! What a great idea!! This was very fun to write :)

(don't mind the spelling mistakes please lol. i am tired out of my mind)

For starters, when Bruce first introduced the members of the Justice League to you (it took a lot of convincing), you just couldn’t help but flirt with them.

I mean, just LOOK at Aquaman. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you felt a spark. He hadn’t noticed you staring, but surely he had felt it too. Bruce, however, had noticed you staring. He didn’t seem particularly amused, almost as though he saw you daydreaming about your wedding with Aquaman. Just when you were making your way over to them, Bruce scowled and swiftly led Aquaman away. After that, you never saw him ever again…

Or that one time when Green Lantern came over. Wow. What a man. You didn’t waste a second walking up to him and introducing yourself. The giggles you were suppressing nearly slipped out after you saw Bruce’s eye twitch. Green Lantern entertained your advances, though you knew he wasn’t interested in you. Whenever Bruce started with his, “Hal. We should leave”, you would always interrupt him with more questions directed at Hal.

“So…do you like pasta? I’m actually really good at making it. You should come over, you know? I could treat you!” You all but winked at him.

Hal found it very interesting, don’t get him wrong, he thought you were very funny, but when Bruce is standing right there beside him, he felt…intimidated. So intimidated, in fact, that he can barely reply to your questions.

“Oh…um…” he nervously glanced at Bruce. “Green. You know what, kid? Your father and I have some business to attend to…so…see you next time. Good luck with the um…yeah, never mind.”

Hal sped off, leaving you and Bruce alone. You had been in the mood to laugh until your father turned to you with a serious expression. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to laugh anymore. To put it simply, it was a clear warning: Don’t do it again, his look communicated.

Now, Constantine, he was fun to hang around with, likely because he isn’t as scared of Batman as the rest is. And also, he’s hot. “You are so cool, honestly. It’s really impressive how often you’ve escaped death”, you leaned against the wall. To be honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying, all you needed to hear was his strong English accent and little sprinkles of humor.

After some bribery, you had gotten Tim to tell you that Bruce was most concerned about you meeting Constantine. For some reason, you figured…

“So…I like older men, what about you?”, you batted your eyelashes at him. You didn’t have Bruce in your periphery, as you were focusing on John, but you could imagine him shaking in fury.

“Yeah, I like older men too”, he replied nonchalantly. Dammit, he got you. Well, he was a funny guy.

Bruce seemingly relaxed at that, but that’s not to say that he was satisfied with the interaction taking place. “You’re funny, are you single-”, you could barely finish your sentence before Dick dragged you away to spend time with you. Though, you believe that Bruce asked Dick to get you away just so you couldn’t talk to Constantine like that.

Bruce had way too many attractive friends. Well, almost all his friends were attractive: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash…hell, even Martian Manhunter. I mean, he can read minds! Just imagine the potential…

“So, I heard you can read minds. Read mine right now”, your grin was…suspicious. Bruce couldn’t read minds like J’onn could, but he could imagine what you were thinking about. No, actually, he didn’t want to imagine it.

“J’onn.”, Bruce, ever so stern, called out and gestured towards the door. The J’onn in question had merely walked off in that direction silently, as though having understood Bruce’s point from one word. Martian Manhunter hadn’t read your mind that day, to your dismay. However, you had managed to make Bruce uncomfortable, so that was considered a win.

Dick himself had very attractive friends. Wally West, quite the flirt, was among them. Though, oddly enough, you had imagined him to be more flirty. It couldn’t be that Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and told him to watch it, right?

“So, you’re fast, huh?”, you looked Wally up and down. “I happen to be”, Wally glanced at Dick.

“Okaayyyyy, Wally, you should leave”, Dick spoke with a strained smile.

“Yeah. Oh, by the way, what about the-”

“Now.”

Wally looked around awkwardly, “…right.”

And Raven—what a woman. Plus, Cyborg and Starfire filled your thoughts. Though Wally was the first and last friend of Dick’s you ever saw. A pity. He seemed to have learnt his lesson…

Now Roy Harper, Jason’s friend, was quite something. Tattoos? Archery? Hell yeah.

“Wow, so you like engineering books? Well, the manor has a huge variety. You should come by more often”, you smiled innocently.

“Um, actually, he will NOT be coming over ever again”, Jason frowned at your words.

“Why not?”, both you and Roy turned to Jason.

“BECAUSE I said so”, you and Roy made eye contact awkwardly.

“You”, Jason points at Roy, “Get out.”

“What? But you said you needed my he-”

“NOWWWW. Do NOT make me repeat myself.”

Yeah, Roy leaving was more awkward than anything else that had happened so far.

Jason didn’t have that many friends, as far as you knew at least. In other words: You would never see Roy ever again…

Now Tim, being charming himself, had many attractive friends.

For starters: Conner Kent.

You hadn’t had much contact with the Kents, however Conner had come over a few times. And wow. Despite being overly confident (and often obnoxious), he was very, very attractive. However, you have never talked to him. The reason? Tim makes sure he keeps you at arm’s length. In fact, you’re not sure you could ever find a way to interract with Tim’s friends…unless…

“Hey, Tim!”, Jason called out, “Bruce says you need to go to the cave right now.”

“What? But I have guests over…”, Tim eyes Jason suspiciously.

“I mean, if you wanna get in trouble with him, be my guest”, Jay raised his hands defensively.

“I-…fine. Conner, just a second, I will be right back. DO NOT move”, Tim sighs.

After Tim left, you shot Jason a thumbs-up and went to mingle with Superboy.

“Good evening. You must be Conner. I’ve heard a lot about you from Tim”, you say, taking it slow.

“Good evening! Hopefully you only heard good things!”, he grins.

“Oh, plenty of good things. Say, if you really can fly, then why don’t you take me for a ride? I haven’t ever seen the sky from…well, up in the sky”, you copied his grin.

“Ah, well, I would, really, but I’m not sure how Tim would feel, you know? I mean, he’s a bit of a-”, Conner started.

“A bit of a what.”, a new voice shocked the both of you.

Tim. Where the hell did he come from?

“I though I told you to leave if they started talking to you?”, Tim ignored you, only focusing on scolding Conner.

“Well, that would’ve been incredibly rude…”, Conner struggled to defend himself.

“You.”, Tim turns to you.

“Me?”, you said, though you weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Yes, you. What’s the big idea? Why did you pull that just to talk to Conner? I don’t know what you have planned, but forget it immediately. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Bruce to reinstate the therapy sessions. Then you can explain to him why you enjoy sabotaging others so much.”

That was, quite frankly, terrifying. You hadn’t been this scared of Tim in a while.

Well, safe to say you won’t be doing this again…

[ddarker-dreams]

BRILLIANT fucking idea: SR reader insinuating/offhandedly admitting… she has never been intimate. everyone hearing it like 🧍🏾‍♀️ how do you mean. idk j the flustered bashfulness of suddenly being like “wajt wait if im her bf ,,, im her first love”

SCREAMINGGGGG

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

Giorno is a bit strange because he almost wishes he had a predecessor to analyze (and completely outshine). He isn’t disappointed per se, he’s not that weird, but having more study material never hurts. Positive relationships are foreign to him, since he’s been distant from others most of his life. He got along with people well enough — he just preferred his own company. Now that he’s had a taste of your company, he’s keen on making it a lifelong occurrence. Overhearing this admission has him wondering if traditional courting methods don’t do much for you. Or, more realistically, that they go over your pretty head. He's witnessed you interpreting the gang's flirtations as platonic. Consequently, he gives considerable thought to ensuring this isn't a fate that befalls him. Corny as it sounds, his new dream is to stand beside you as your husband. He's chasing this goal without abandon.

Bruno

Bruno feels immensely guilty for eavesdropping on a conversation involving something so personal, but he couldn't help himself. An immense weight feels like it's been lifted from his shoulders upon learning you haven't gotten romantically involved with anyone before. This relief is followed up with sharp self-condemnation — as your leader, he shouldn't get involved with your personal affairs. Maintaining any professional distance is difficult though, especially when you're so likable. People are naturally drawn to you and he's no different. That's why this revelation comes as a surprise, albeit a good one. He tells himself he'd be happy for you if you loved someone else... however, deep down, he knows the regret would eat him alive. He struggles to concentrate the rest of the day. His mind keeps wandering back to thoughts of you, specifically, finding solace in one another’s warmth. The most innocent thoughts make his heart flutter, the man is smitten.

Fugo

Fugo almost renounces his atheism — perhaps there is a God after all. Then he's reminded that you're completely out of his league, submersing him back into the Nietzsche headspace. His self-esteem isn't the best, so the way he looks at it is if no one else was good enough to catch your attention, what chance did he have? It's a miracle you even put him with him. He's blunt, stubborn, and easy to agitate, yet you're one of the few people alive who don't treat him like a ticking time bomb. When his initial pessimism dies down, he fantasizes about you getting flustered by things like a first kiss. It's a cute mental image. Would you fidget? Accidentally bump heads and apologize? Get sweaty palms? Before he knows it, he's invented an entire storyline in his head. It's mushy enough that he struggles to look you in the eye the next time he sees you.

Mista

Mista pretends he knew it all along, as if the Pistols hadn't kept him awake multiple nights, speculating over your relationship status. The little fellas held full-blown debates. Since he's a chill, go-with-the-flow type of guy, he wouldn't have turned green with envy had he learned you former lovers. If they brought you happiness, who is he to hold it against them? Regardless, he can't deny his budding excitement. Should you reciprocate his feelings, you'll experience all your firsts with him. Those initial milestones are the moments that stick with people throughout their life. It's your first kiss in particular that he'd like to have for himself. He intends to sweep you off your feet — literally. It's got to be like those old Hollywood flicks he grew up watching, or what's the point?

Narancia

Narancia has to stop himself from audibly cheering. The multiple abandonments he underwent in the past has him latching onto the few people remaining in his life. This includes you, naturally. You've brought him so much joy, the risk of losing that, losing you, it's a fear that eats away at him. He worries that if you had exes, you might compare him to them and determine he's subpar. Then he'd be cast aside like trash as he had been multiple times before. These insecurities nourish his possessive tendencies. Learning that he has no exes to fend off is a great relief because he would've defended you viciously. It isn't until later that he daydreams over the more innocent implications, like being your first (and only!) boyfriend. He gets so preoccupied by the thought that he walks into a few walls.

Abbacchio

He's actually surprised to learn about this. He considers using Moody Blues so he can hear the entire conversation, but decides against it, believing it to be an intrusion of your privacy. Abbacchio's of the opinion that to maximize your happiness, you should find love outside of Passione. He wants that for you, and yet... his heart physically aches whenever the possibility crosses his mind. What's the alternative, then? Would he make for a suitable partner? He finds the mere possibility laughable. Your brightness would be engulfed by the gaping maw that is his existence. He considers this an empirical truth, not some 'woe is me' sentiment. Ultimately, anytime your love life (or lack of one) is brought up, he distracts himself, so as not to fixate on his shortcomings.

[bhaalsbabe]

This bed has seen everything

Pairing: afab!Durge Reader x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

Word count: ~2k

Summary/warnings: MDNI, afab!durge, durge is a magic user, unprotected sex, piv, creampie, some biting on both sides (and both sides like it), choking (receiving), the glove stays on, Gortash is a simp for durge but what's new, Gorty is more dominant here

Author's note: long expected part two of This desk has seen everything. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

You need to focus or you'll get yourself killed. The Emperor's stern voice rumbled inside your head, the force of his mind pushing your urge back, enough for you to see clearer again. You were standing next to an open manhole. Looking around to figure out where you were, you noticed an undead beggar you ran into after entering the Lower City a day before. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way back to the room you had acquired in Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you entered the main square, however, you were stopped by one of the steel watchers.

"Citizen, lord Gortash is looking for you. Please return to Wyrm's Rock Fortress immediately," its robotic voice said.

"And what if I don't return?" You asked, not in the mood to deal with both Gortash and this annoying piece of metal.

"Then you'll be escorted there against your will."

You frowned, thinking about your options quickly. You hated having to follow anyone's orders. At the same time, you weren't in a position where you could take out the entire city's guards, and while you could turn invisible to slip out of this steel watcher's grasp, you would have to show yourself eventually and be captured then.

"Fine, I'm going there right now. Happy?" Your voice was dripping with malice that totally went over the steel watcher's head. It continued standing there menacingly, watching you as you made your way out of the city again. You walked as slow as possible, wondering what awaited you.

Gortash wanted you. That much was evident. The surprising part was that you wanted him too. This man, who was ready to doom so many people for his god and hunger for power, who hurt Karlach so much and sold her to Zariel... You should hate him and be planning his assassination, putting a stop to all of this. Yet instead, you were thinking of how familiar his touch felt on your body, how it made your heart sing in a similar way as killing did. Even without the memories that would explain the reasons for it, you craved him, his brilliant mind and his reverent touch.

As you entered the fortress, you were greeted by the mechanical voice of the steel watcher, telling you that "lord Gortash is awaiting you in his chambers". Two guards, these made of actual flesh, then lead you to what you assumed were the doors to his chambers. You waited until they left before entering, your heart speeding up in anticipation.

The room was big and expensive looking. It screamed 'important person resides here'. Currently dimly lit through various hanging lanterns, you could still make out the prevalent colours, red and black, with occasional sprinkle of green. All the way back was a king sized bed with canopy, with its owner sitting on its edge.

"You gave me quite a scare back there. I thought you'd start a bloody rampage in the open." He chuckled but you noticed he sounded almost relieved as his eyes set on you. You felt a pull towards him, your feet leading you to the bed on their own.

"I warned you I'm not as in-control as you might think." You replied, stopping in front of him. The dark lighting of the room made him look more imposing and you had to admit, it suited him. Black was his colour. His smile widened as he caught you staring at him.

"Can't help yourself? I don't blame you~" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead choosing to ask the question that's been burning in you.

"What exactly were we?" You winced at how unsure and vulnerable you sounded. Gone was your usual confidence. When it came to your past, you were lost and helpless and it scared you. Part of you berated yourself for showing a weakness to an enemy of such status as Gortash.

But he didn't take advantage of it. His eyes softened and his flirtatious smile changed into a melancholic one. You had a strong feeling not many people had seen this particular expression on him. He stood up, taking both of your hands into his while gazing into your eyes.

"Allies," one of his hands left yours to wrap around your waist and pull you against his lean body. You let him do it, intuitively putting your free hand around him too.

"Friends," he leaned close to you, his next word whispered to your ear as if it were the most precious secret.

"Lovers." You heard him take a deep breath, almost like he was taking in your scent, his hold on you tightening for a brief second before he pulled away, reluctantly letting you go and stepping back.

Hearing him actually say it made a bit of your doubt and guilt go away. Of course your body recognised your lover, even if your mind struggled. You weren't betraying your friends by wanting to be close to Gortash. How could they possibly blame you for wanting someone you used to love?... You could easily do more mental gymnastics to defend your following actions if necessary.

Your breathing quickened as you pushed him back, making him fall into the bed, before climbing over him. "Good. Now I don't feel so bad for wanting to fuck you."

His eyes widened as he took you in, looking up at you as if you were a god, a self-satisfied smile stretching over his face.

"Old habits die hard~" He said before using his strength to flip you over. "You should know your place, however," his voice was deeper, his clawed hand wrapping around your neck, making it harder to breathe. You glared at him in defiance, displeased that he'd dare to do this.

"Oh, are you imagining slicing me open now? Frying me with you spells?" His eyes and voice were laced with amusement. He put more pressure on your neck, the sharp claws digging into the soft skin of your neck. He leaned close to your face. "Good."

The moment your lips connected, he released his hold on your neck enough for you to be able to breathe better again. His other hand made it's way under your shirt, mapping your body to his memory again. He sighed contentedly, almost getting lost in the simple kiss-

And then you bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood and to make him recoil in shock. He pulled away, touching his bleeding lip gingerly before looking back at you. His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he watched you lick your lips, stained by his blood. His pants got more tight as you gave him a mad grin, one that used to be on your face so often before your disappearance.

"I didn't think you still had it in you," he chuckled, looking way too happy for someone who could've lost his lip.

"You seem to be enjoying the pain. Aren't you supposed to be a tyrannical sadist?" You teased him, dropping your gaze at his quite visible bulge before looking back at him.

"Oh I can be, trust me, dear. You're just too special." He got near your face again, scanning over your features with his eyes. You could see the imperfections on his skin in return - the soft wrinkles around his eyes, the laugh lines, the scar on his chin - and as you shared this moment, you truly felt special.

You started kissing each other once again, more passionately and ferociously, both of you needing to feel, touch, taste each other. Gortash pressed his clothed erection against your core and you moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping around his body to pull him closer, to stimulate the spot that was crying for attention. All of a sudden, none of you had the power to continue your playful banter. You needed him, and he needed you.

He started undressing you, his nimble fingers making quick work of your clothes and he didn't even have to stop kissing you for a moment. His hands kept exploring your body, squeezing in all the right places. He knew your body well.

His mouth left yours to kiss your jawline and continue lower, to your neck, your clavicle, and even lower, to give some welcome attention to your nipple. As he sucked on that piece of flesh, one of his hands started its journey over your inner thigh all the way to your cunt. He only dragged his finger through your folds, spreading your slick, and your hips buckled.

"Fuck... Enver, just fuck me already," you panted, your chest heaving heavily, your nails digging into his shoulders. He left your nipple with a 'pop', his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you before him, all desperate and needy, although he wasn't doing much better and you uttering his name didn't help.

"As you wish, my dear," he mumbled, removing his pants and underwear hastily. He didn't bother with prepping you, knowing you enjoyed the sting of his cock splitting you open and so he inserted his dick in you in one fell swoop. You tensed up, unused to this kind of pain, trying to hold back any sounds of discomfort. Gortash noticed it, kissing you softly on the lips, before whispering into your ear:

"You're doing great, my love, just relax." His fingers started playing with your clit, mixing the pain with pleasure and soon you were urging him to move again. He didn't need to be told twice, his hips pistoning into yours immediately after getting your permission.

He was thick, making the muscles in your vagina strain as they tried to accommodate his girth. It helped that you were embarrassingly wet, the squelch audible every time his dick moved in and out of you. Gortash buried his head in your neck, letting out whimpers that made you feel less humiliated about the noises you made.

"Ah, I've missed this. I've missed you. Thought I'd never see you again..." he mumbled into your neck, his breath hot against it. He cradled you close, as if you could slip between his fingers at any moment, his hips picking up speed. He wanted to enjoy this more, he truly did, but he was desperate to state his claim on you again, make you his once more. He made sure to rub circles into your clit in an effort to bring you to climax along with him. You were so responsive to his touch, like the first time you gave yourself to him, and he wanted to make sure you'll come back for more.

His clawed hand that held you close kept leaving bleeding scratches behind that you didn't mind at all, not when everything in this moment made you feel so alive. You thought killing felt great but this was actually better than that. He then bit your neck, groaning at the same time, his hips stilling, and you felt a warm sensation in you as he filled you with cum. With the continuous stimulation in and around your cunt, along with the small bits of pain he brought you, you followed him over the edge soon after, a silent prayer of his name on your lips.

You were both breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other as you tried to recover a bit of lucidity. Gortash finally pulled out, making his sperm spill out of you onto the expensive bedsheets but he couldn't care less. He laid next to you, pulling you against his chest, and he kissed your head sweetly. It felt unreal, that a supposed tyrant like him had the capacity to be so gentle, to an enemy no less, and yet here you were.

Well, let's just say you're heavily considering your alliance now.

[superblysubpar]

series masterlist | chapter two

chapter summary: Steve brings his daughter to her first day of Kindergarten.

the song: My Girl by The Temptations

6,251 words | please see the masterlist for warnings! | my blog is 18+

Steve can’t be sure if the sigh that escapes his lips and clouds up in front of him is due to the anticipation of the inevitable sticky situation that’s about to occur or annoyance in himself for continuing to provide her the jam. He supposes it could just be a sigh of acceptance, finally coming to terms with the new and almost constant state of his hair lately. Most likely though, it’s just a content, tiny burst of affection.

Because that’s the overwhelming feeling that blooms in his chest when sticky, sweet strawberry smelling fingers land in his freshly styled hair. His eyes flit up from the green sparkly laces between his fingers to see her tiny lips forming her patented pout.

Hair a bit lighter than his, curls slightly in a mind of its own kind of way beneath little pig tails, bouncing just above shoulders that are tucked up to her ears as she tilts her head to look around his. Big, curious eyes that he claims are like her mom’s, but everyone is adamant are also a carbon copy of his too - just like her nose that scrunches all too familiarly, dotted with tiny freckles that seem to multiple every day.

Steve taps the side of Charlie’s ankle as he finishes the first bow, and she sticks her other foot out for him, yellow lights at the center of daisies flashing as she stomps it down on the gravel. He glances back up to find her eyes still trained on the playground behind him, the furrow between her eyebrows only growing deeper as her fingers tug in his hair - either for his full attention like it isn’t already on her, or the aforementioned jam predicament, he isn’t sure.

“Daddy?”

He finishes the second bow, and removes her hands from his hair gently, running his thumb over the back of her knuckles and he sighs again. She is so sticky.

Steve shakes his head at his own thoughts and releases her hands to search his pockets, the other chucks the side of his knuckle under her chin.

“Talk to me, Goose.”

Her pout disappears, a giggle slips past her lips just like always, but it’s not long lasting when a shriek comes from the playground behind him. Her voice lowers as she asks in a wobbly tone, “Who will do the underdogs?”

“Well, uh, I’m sure your teacher knows how to do them, cutie,” he reassures while his forehead wrinkles and he tries to determine if she’s looking for some reason not to go suddenly or if she’s just genuinely curious. She does take her swings seriously, so it’s not an out of the ordinary question.

Steve finds a napkin, and decides it’ll have to do for now, grimacing as the paper material hits his tongue.

“But what if she can’t, daddy?” Her voice whines as he continues his stand off with the sticky residue.

That’s it. He’s suing Smuckers.

He hums, squeezing her fingers that wiggle between his and the napkin doing absolutely shit all.

“Then we’ll just have to teach her, right? Everyone’s gotta know how to do the underdogs.”

Charlie huffs, but she shrugs her shoulders in some sort of agreement it seems. He wonders how someone so tiny can be full of such complicated emotions, curious thoughts, and brains that he absolutely can’t keep up with, yet still need her shoes tied and someone on jam removal duty most mornings.

Steve stares at her tiny hand in his palm, green sparkles on clear nails that make him swallow down something stuck in his throat, make his free hand run down his nose and swipe underneath it.

Don’t you dare cry, you fucking loser.

But he can’t help but feed the worm that’s been digging deeper and deeper inside of him for months: What if she’s not ready?

And he knows, he really knows, after all the long talks and preparation for this very moment, that it’s him who’s not ready, not her.

She’s so ready, and going to wow the socks off of every teacher with her brilliant and funny little brain and she is the greatest, most precious thing in the world and nothing bad is going to happen to her, dingus.

He recites it to himself over and over, verbatim what Robin told him as he tries to move on to her second hand. But as the gold heart shaped locket dangling from her neck hits his forehead, all he can think is, that starting today, the room full of people he trusts with her safety is expanding. And the problem with opening that door to the room is not Charlie exploring beyond the safe wall’s he’s built, it’s who can get in when he’s not there 24/7 to guard that door.

Visions of flashing Christmas lights, baseball bats meeting gray flesh, Russian guard’s hands and their beady eyes, potentially rabid bats and, you know, just the earth cracking in half and the world almost ending multiple times, while losing people he really cares about, threaten to overtake his mind and he huffs in then out, a quick and calming breath.

Steve wets the napkin with his tongue once more, but pieces of it stick to it this time and he sputters and blows a raspberry, and Charlie’s giggles soothe any worry that was climbing over him like writhing vines.

He let’s go of her hands and makes a bigger show of removing the wet clumps of cardboard tasting napkin from his tongue and coughs loudly. She laughs harder and his eyes widen and his mouth drops in a dramatic gasp.

“Are you laughing at your dad?” He jabs at her sides lightly, tickling and poking her while the napkin falls to the ground and she giggles harder. “Huh? That’s not very nice!”

Steve picks up Charlie, squeezing at her wiggling and gasping body as she laughs so loud he can’t even remember what he was so worried about. He blows a raspberry into her neck so she shrieks in a laughing protest, “Daddy! Too much…” she laughs and wiggles more, gasping around her words, “Too much happy!”

He’ll take the sticky fingers and messed up hair and cardboard taste in his mouth and worrying about another human more than he ever could about himself every day if it means he gets to hear that every once in awhile.

“Mr. Harrington?”

Steve spins at the sound of his name, slowing his tickling. As his body turns and he’s met with your smile, he nearly drops his kid.

You are so pretty.

His mouth goes dry, like the entire napkin is balled up inside of it. He’s sure his cheeks are turning pink from how warm he feels while staring at you. Your fingers wrapped around a bright yellow thermos tap at it while a clipboard rests wedged between your side and elbow. Your light gray tshirt is decorated with sparkly planets and the slogan “Kindergarten is out of this world!” and is tucked into a bright green skirt that he can sense Charlie eyeing appreciatively, though apprehensively from her new residence tucked into his neck.

He runs a palm down Charlie’s spine, reassuring her as you tilt your head and smile wider at her, your nose scrunching up when you do. It takes your kind eyes turning their gaze to him again for him to realize you’ve never met and you were asking if he was Mr. Harrington.

“H-hi. Yeah, I mean yes. I’m Mr. Harrington. I mean, I don’t, kids at school call me that, and I guess parents, but I mean that is my name. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

He squeezes his eyes closed shut as if to erase that moment from existence forever. He can practically see Robin drawing a line on a whiteboard in the ‘You Suck’ column.

Your laugh drags his eyelids open, and it tugs at something inside of his chest that he thought disappeared a long time ago. Your hand extends and he bites his cheek, cursing all jelly and jam brands. He raises his hands up almost in surrender and Charlie clings to his neck harder, her face hidden in his shoulder as the back of her thighs balance in the crook of his elbow.

“I’m afraid we had a bit of a sticky jam situation this morning, so I don’t know if you want to proceed with a handshake.”

Proceed? With a handshake? Dude, you’re killing me here.

Your shoulders shrug, your voice all soft and smooth and a little sleepy as you joke, “They literally make us Kindergarten teachers take a class where they simply throw sticky substances at us, and if you flinch or grimace, you’ll never graduate. It’s all a part of the job.” Your hand clasps around his gently, but in a firm shake, as you introduce yourself, “I’m Miss Honey.”

He can’t help but notice the Miss not a Mrs.

Charlie perks up at your name, her forehead knocks his chin and he blinks rapidly from the sensation and her shout directly in his ear, “You’re my teacher!”

“I am?” You gasp, excited and smiling at her when you do and he thinks he might already be in love with you.

Charlie nods and then exclaims, “Daddy calls me honey!”

Steve fights a smile and his arm wrapped around her waist squeezes as he whispers, “How do we introduce ourselves?”

Charlie beams at him and slides down his front, foot pushing off of his thigh for leverage. She jumps to the ground forcefully, and almost trips and falls face first into the cement.

Steve’s already moving forward in anticipation of big crocodile tears, but stops himself when he sees you don’t move a muscle and simply watch her find her balance. He watches as you bite your lip in a way that tells him you’re hiding a smile as Charlie sticks her hand out towards you.

When you take it, she shakes it and takes a deep breath before slowly reciting, “My name is Charlotte Maxine Harrington. I live at six eight two Poppy Lane and my daddy’s phone number is seven six five four two…five-“

“Woah cutie,” he stops her, hands resting on her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. “We don’t have to give her the whole speech, how about just the name?”

Crouched down to Charlie’s level now, you tilt your head at her, eyes widening as the tone of your voice turns to something syrupy sweet that he recognizes in the way he talks to her himself sometimes as you ask, “You memorized all of that Charlotte? That’s amazing! And there’s more? A whole speech?!”

She nods, eyes big and wide and voice excited as she hums, “Mhm. For policemans like Mr. Jim and firesmens like Uncle Eddie and teachers like Auntie Robin. Cause every-eveybody calls me Charlie, but if I’m scared and I need help they need my whole name and daddy’s phone number and if any food makes me itchy.”

Steve knows without a shadow of a doubt that not only are his cheeks pink, the tips of his ears are now too when you look up at him with raised eyebrows and something twinkling in your gaze. He clears his throat and focuses on his hand running through Charlie’s curls instead of you.

“Daddy’s gotta make sure his right hand gal’s got all the facts, right?” He kisses the top of her head again, inhaling her L’Oreal mangoes and strawberry and something distinctly his daughter that he is certain would be what the sun smells like if it could be bottled.

She tilts her head back, resting against his dark Levi’s so she can see him. Her grin is wide, showing off dimples she didn’t get from him as she nods again. “Right. Always be pepared.”

Steve brushes his thumb down her nose, and something stings behind his eyes again. He looks back over at you, slowly standing from your crouch with a fond gaze staring back at him. He swallows before his lips part, prepared to tell you that it’s all wrong. He’s not Steve Harrington, this is not Charlie Harrington, and no way is anyone starting Kindergarten today, but Charlie’s shriek never lets the words leave his mouth.

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water dumps over his head as he spins to watch Charlie race towards the parking lot, about to yell far too loud from fear, when she comes to halt right at the curb. Impatiently bouncing as her favorite person waves and runs towards her.

The familiar honey tinged red waves bounce as Robin scoops Charlie up in a hug that can only be comfortable for the two of them, all squeezing and no grace, kissing all over her face as she gushes and fawns over her like she literally didn’t see her last night.

“Hey babe! You look splendidly spectacular this morning! Did you do something different with your hair?”

“No!” Charlie giggles and spins once back on the ground, as if to show off her outfit. Which is pretty cute, if he does say so himself. Robin taps a finger to her chin. She holds up curls and circles Charlie, inspecting.

“Not the hair, not the hair…aha! Your nails! Green nail polish!”

Charlie shakes her head and puts her hands on her hips, and Steve relaxes as she tells her that Auntie Robin you painted them last night and how could she forget already, no it’s not that.

You’re watching him closely when he turns to look back at you, rubbing the back of his neck under your appraisal. Your smile all knowing as you reassure, “She’s gonna be fine, Mr. Harrington. Stopping to look both ways and being aware of cars is first week stuff, she’s a natural. And that speech? Time for you to relax.”

He knows he was never one for hiding how he felt from his facial features, but after having a kid and becoming a teacher, he’s had to learn to keep himself fairly composed. So he’s not sure if you can already read him that well or this is just the speech you give to all the parents. Nonetheless, he smiles back at you.

“I’ve never heard of that word before, what does it mean? Relax?”

Your laughter at his terrible joke makes something in his chest swell, almost as sweet of a sound as Charlie’s. He glances over to see Robin smacking her forehead and exclaiming that oh of course it’s the fabulous new green overalls.

“Also, call me Steve, please,” you smile politely and he knows you won’t, because he does the same thing to parents who tell him the same thing, “And I think it’s in that packet we had to fill out, but I’m a teacher over at the middle school, um, art, and so I’m only like ten minutes away if something happens, and she should be really good, she’s a great listener, but I know how she can be so please tell me. Seriously. And I know she didn’t do pre-school, but she’s so smart, she’s just struggling with her R’s and H’s sometimes, but I honestly think it’s because she talks so fast she just doesn’t care to slow down-“

Your fingers touch his wrist, catching it as he talks with his hands and he stops immediately, blinking at you with a held breath.

It’s like touching his skin shocks you and your fingers release from around his wrist quickly before you take a step back, shaking your head while biting your lip.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s oka-“

“Dingus!” Wing woman extraordinare interrupts, “Why on earth did cutiepie here just tell me she did not get a picture in this fabulous first day of school outfit?”

He focus’ on the pair walking towards him hand in hand with a scowl he quickly hides, rolling his eyes at Robin when Charlie quips, “Yeah, dad!”

Steve rubs the side of his cheek, glaring at Robin as you make yourself busy with your clipboard. “Because, we were gonna be late after we were so focused on finding the green overalls, and the green hair ties, and the green shoelaces and the green-“

“Because green is the best,” Charlie interrupts while putting her hands on her hips as if it weren’t clear how exasperated she was with him from her tone.

Robin snorts from behind her and mirrors her pose before sticking her tongue out at him. “Yeah, dad!”

Your laughter reminds Charlie of your presence and she tugs Robin’s matching polished fingers with her own forward.

“Miss Honey, this is Auntie Robin. She lives at…um…oh yeah…four one three-“

“Woah kiddo!” Robin whispers and crouches down, looking around dramatically like a spy. “Does Miss Honey know the super secret password? ‘Cause, remember, only the friends who know the super secret password get to know where Aunt Robin lives.”

Charlie gasps like she’s just recalled this important fact and nods, face seriouos. Robin mimes zipping her lips, locking, then throws the invisible key over her shoulder. Charlie copies her, then promptly steps towards you and loudly whispers: “Pickles.”

Steve bites his cheek and Robin laughs, running a hand over her curls. “We’ll keep practicing the whole locking of lips thing, huh?”

“Kay,” Charlie shrugs before she tugs on Steve’s pant leg. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?” He watches her grip the side of jeans in her little fist and stare at the swings with that pout on her lips again.

“Can I swing?”

A lump in his throat forms when he looks up at you, you glance at your watch and nod with a smile.

“Sure, cutie.” He starts to take off her back pack straps and she’s already racing across the gravel and he calls out loudly, “Don’t forget to be nice to new friends! Take turns! Say please!”

“Tank you!” She shouts back over her shoulder.

Steve groans at it all, her racing away, her forgotten H. He watches her slow down as she reaches the swings and point to an empty one next to a boy already pumping his legs. He nods eagerly and Charlie talks animatedly with her hands as she climbs into the swing.

He lets all of his weight drop against Robin, Charlie’s backpack limp in his fingers when his temple knocks hers and he whispers, “I can’t fucking do this.”

Robin sniffles and his head whips up.

“Are you crying?”

She swats at his chest and avoids his gaze, “No. I have something in my eye. Both eyes. Like a branch or something. Just…” she holds out her hand and blinks blue eyes that have turned a little more shiny, “Give me your keys so I can go get the polaroid, ‘cause I know you brought it, you sentimental idiot.”

He drops the car keys into her palm and she quickly turns away from him before he can catch the tears slipping down her cheeks. When he turns back around you’re hiding a smile behind your thermos again.

Steve clears his throat and runs his thumb and forefinger down his nose, squinting at the playground.

“It’s okay to cry you know, most parents do.”

“I’m not,” he clarifies, words thick in his throat and a struggle to get out.

“Okay, I believe you,” yours easy and tinged with laughter.

“I’m not,” he begs, pleading with someone in the universe so the burn behind his eyes doesn’t fully form and fall.

You must hear it, and decide to give him an out, because you pull up your clipboard. “I actually did need to ask you a few questions, you were my last parent to snag before we all go inside. We never got your authorized pick up list? Just if you can’t ever pick up Charlie, who we’re allowed to send her home with? We tend to also use this as an emergency contact list if there was ever some reason we couldn’t get a hold of you.”

The word emergency makes his heart beat harder and he looks over at Charlie swinging to make sure he can still see her.

“Oh,” he nods, licking his lips as he thinks through it. “How many people can I put?”

“As many as you want,” you shrug before adjusting your coffee thermos in the crook of your elbow so you can write on the clipboard.

“Here,” he grabs the thermos, “Let me. I feel like if I let you spill coffee on that skirt, Charlie might actually never forgive me, as you heard, we’re in a green phase.”

He’s awarded that laugh of yours again before you whisper a quiet thank you. Your lashes kiss as you blink at him, pen poised on the paper. It’s when your eyebrows lift expectantly that he realizes you’re waiting for him to say something still.

“Oh! Um…honestly…” he looks at Charlie who’s smiling at Robin holding up the camera now and nods towards her. “Robin Buckley,” he lists her phone number before adding on, “She’s a teacher here, music, um, honestly she might be picking her up most days. I coach soccer here in the fall after school, so I should make it, but in the spring I’m over at the high school for baseball.”

“Okay great,” you smile as you finish writing her number and look up at him, “Anyone else?”

“I guess Eddie Munson?”

“The ‘firesmens’?” You ask as you write the name.

Steve laughs, fiddling with Charlie’s backpack in his hands, “Yeah, and I guess I should do Nancy too…”

He gives you both of their numbers along with Hopper and Joyce and he doesn’t even want to imagine what would be going on that you couldn’t get a hold of him, Robin, Eddie, or Nancy and had to resort to calling them. And what’s worse, if you couldn’t get a hold of them either.

“We almost never have to call even the second person on the list Mr. Harrington, she’s gonna be just fine.”

“Right,” he nods, but doesn’t really believe you.

“For relationship, Robin is Charlie’s Aunt is what I gathered?”

“Oh,” he laughs and rubs at his temple, “Um by blood? No. She’s just my best friend, but I mean, I guess, to Charlie, yeah. Closest person to having a real one I think.”

“Oh, okay, gotcha” you nod, glancing down at the list and writing.

Steve feels the need to clarify when you hover over Eddie and Nancy, and he isn’t sure why. “They’re married, shouldn’t have said that. And again, family friends I guess, but Charlie calls them Aunt and Uncle. And Jim and Joyce, do you know Hopper? The chief? Anyways, they’re just Mr. Jim and Mrs. Joyce, but they’re essentially her grandparents I guess? I don’t really know…”

Your face does that thing that he hates, the look like you wanna tell him you’re sorry, or you want to comfort him but don’t know how. And it’s not like he doesn’t appreciate where it comes from, he just hates anyone thinking he can’t handle it, can’t handle her, all by himself, or feeling sorry for him in any way. Because there’s nothing to be sorry for, not when he has her.

Your mouth parts, but before you can speak, thunder rumbles loudly overhead.

“Oh, shit,” Steve groans, looking up at the angry clouds. The clear morning sky slowly turning gray without him noticing and he looks over to see Charlie already running for Robin’s legs.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms?” You ask as you watch her and several other kiddos get scooped up by parents.

Steve shakes his head, lips turning down in a frown as Robin whispers in her ear and starts back towards him. “No, she really doesn’t. No matter what I say or do, nothing helps. I honestly don’t know where it came from, I don’t think it’s the loud noises of the thunder, we’ve never lost power…I feel so helpless. Or useless. Like I can’t fix it for her. ”

The smile you offer attempts to reassure, but Charlie’s eyes fill with tears and Robin rubs a hand down her back, looking over her head at Steve with worried eyes.

“Sorry, I gotta…” he apologizes but he’s already moving towards her and he hopes you understand.

Charlie’s sniffles grow louder as another rumble cracks overhead, burrowing her head into Robin’s sternum and kicking her shoes against her thighs so hard, the little daisies light up.

Robin grimaces at the rough kick, and Steve gives her a mouthed apology as he relieves her of her comforting duties. “Hey, calm down honey. I’m right here. It’s just the rain being a little loud, announcing it’s coming soon, remember?”

He watches you and Robin and some of the other teachers start to gently guide parents and kids inside, smiling and distracting from the incoming rain, and he starts to follow but Charlie wails in his ear as he gets further away from the car.

“Dad-dy, nooo,” she sobs, shaking her head, “I don’t wanna go.”

His eyes blur as he sets her down in the entryway, kids running past as parents give him kind smiles when they walk around them.

“What?!” He tries to sound excited, but he’s wavering, throat too tight and eyes burning, “Why don’t you wanna go now? You get to color, and meet new friends! You get to go play music with Robin!”

“But,” she hiccups around a big sob and his thumb catches a new fat tear trying to trail down her pink cheeks. “You-you leaving and and I don’t like the storm and-“

“I don’t have to leave yet! We get to go put your backpack away, and see your new classroom together. Can we do that? I was so excited to see where you get to sit and draw me pictures every day.”

He’s grasping at straws as she shakes her head no and tries to climb into his lap. And he doesn’t even care if he shouldn’t, he lets her. And he squeezes her and kisses the top of her head as he cradles her, walking deeper inside.

Steve whispers in her ear about how Miss Honey must be magic cause guess what? Char, your cubbie is green. How’d she know? And oh my gosh, no way, someone has a sleeping beauty lunchbox. All the while humming her favorite lullaby between the exciting things he hopes grab her attention. And soon she’s not crying anymore, wet lashes tickling his neck as she peeks at the things he’s pointing out. Soon she’s climbing off of his lap as he forces his voice to sound happy about her hanging up her power rangers backpack she just had to have, and holding his hand as she walks to the doorway of the classroom.

All the parents are gone, aside from a few taking last peeks at their kids drawing or playing and Charlie clings to his knee as he hesitates in the doorway himself.

You’re knelt on the ground pointing at some books with two kids when you spot them. He’s not sure what you say to them, but then you’re walking over to them and not even looking at Steve as you crouch in front of Charlie hiding behind his leg, your sole focus on her and making her feel better.

“Thank goodness you’re here, Charlie!” You tell her, thoroughly relieved, “I have the biggest hugest favor to ask you, will you help me?”

Charlie looks at you, and takes a step forward as she quietly asks, “Help?”

Your nod is so enthusiastic, and you reach out your hand for hers, waiting until she rests her fingers in yours to lace them together. “I heard you are your dad’s best helper, and I need help finding all of the green crayons, can you do that with me? There’s so many in this bin! We need them for a special project we’re going to do later.”

She’s about to nod, he knows she is, when lighting flashes outside, and despite the blinds being closed, she knows. Charlie flinches and starts to retreat but you sigh, and nod your head, smiling still. “I know, rain can be scary sometimes. Do you know what I like to do when it rains?”

Charlie shakes her head no, and you smile encouragingly at her as she gets closer and places both of her hands on your arm instead of holding your hand, squeezing close to your side. “I love to bake cookies. They make my house smell so good. What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”

“Um…” Charlie swipes at her cheek and looks around the room at kids playing and laughing. “Monstermashes.”

“Monstermashes? What are those? I’ve never heard of them, can you tell me what all goes in them while we find all the green crayons?”

She let’s you lead her to the table with the bin where two other kids coloring smile at her and say hi. She sits and you squeeze her shoulder as she tells you all about the cookies. It’s when you risk a glance at the door that Steve realizes he’s just standing there, crying.

Your smile is kind, but your head tilts ever so subtly, telling him to slip out while he can and he knows he should, but the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her goodbye or say have a great first day or I love you is ripping him apart and he squeezes his eyes closed.

He’s not sure how he makes it out to his car with how clouded his vision is, but he does. Thankfully he doesn’t have a sob leave his lips until the maroon door is slammed and his forehead presses to the leather wheel. He notices a little stack of polaroids under an orange post it that says “You sentimental idiot” on the passenger seat. He cries more when he sees the curled fingers around his. He cups his cheeks and slaps them, clearing his throat while muttering under his breath to get a grip.

And he does, eventually.

He goes to teacher workshop and sets up his own classroom and lesson plans and catches up with his co-workers. The thunder only lasts about a half hour, and then it’s just a normal rainy day, which he hopes you’ve managed alright with her. He only calls Robin once but that’s only because she yells at him that of course she’s fine, you think she’d let anything happen to that sweet angel? And he only grabs his keys to go early three times, but never makes it fully out to the car. He does have to take something from his little orange bottle when his breath isn’t quite right when lights flicker for no reason, but turns out it was just the custodian doing some checks. And then finally, it’s already time to go pick her up, and he’s not proud of this, but he speeds at least ten over the whole way there.

So maybe he’s a little early.

He’s slow to approach the classroom, and leans against the wall on the other side of the doorway, just out of sight. He hears your voice singing some sort of clean up song and the kids responding, he closes his eyes and tries to focus on if he can hear her. When the song is over, he opens his eyes to find you smiling at him from the doorway. Your shirt is stained, your hair messier than it was this morning. You’re clearly exhausted but absolutely overjoyed that this is your job as you call for anyone who’s favorite color is green to come grab their back pack. Charlie races towards the door with a few other kids and waves excitedly at him from her place in line.

When you tell them to grab their backpacks, she exits the room and leaps into his arms when he crouches down, expecting the hug. He squeezes her tightly, “Hey cutie, did you have a good day? I missed you so much!”

“So so so so good daddy, we played with cars and colored planets and Auntie Robin taught us a new song and and oh my gosh there’s too much happy to tell you.”

He gets a little choked up at that, a sob threatens to hiccup out of him that he tries to cover up with a laugh, kissing her cheek. “That’s so great! Go get your backpack, I think Miss Honey is waiting.”

“Oh!” She jumps out of his arms and skips to her cubbie, and brings it to you where you slip some papers into a folder, notably sparkly and green, into her backpack after you do the same with three other kids and three different colored folders. The others go sit down on a rug and you smile at him.

“Hi Mr. Harrington, Charlie had such a great first day! She was my awesome helper and she has some art projects to show you that I think you’re really gonna like. There’s also a note about what we did today for you in there, that also has some dates to keep in mind and it’ll always have announcements for things like snack rotations.”

Charlie tugs at his pant leg as Steve smiles at you, “Hold on, sweetie.” He runs a hand over her curls before turning back to you and lowering his voice, “Thank you. For this morning, but also, you know, the whole day.”

“It’s literally my job,” you joke, but you smile warmly at him, “But, you’re welcome. You just need to sign Charlie out and then you’re all set!”

You grab a binder from it’s place by the door and flip to the H’s, and hold it open for him. Typed up information about Charlie on top, and the dates of the month in a calendar for signatures, and at the bottom, the list of names. He gets a little emotional seeing: ‘Robin Buckley - Aunt’ and all the other relationships you’ve given instead of family friend.

Charlie tugs harder, this time on his belt loop and he laughs, picking her up. “Hey, I said hold on, what’s got ants in your pants, huh?”

She taps at his cheek, big eyes blinking at him as she whines, “Daddy, this is so impotant, I promise. No ants.”

“Okay,” he laughs, signing his name in the today’s box, “What’s up?”

“What are the crunchies?”

She asks it so seriously and he has no idea what she’s talking about, he looks to you for help.

You’re thanking the kids for the calm and listening bodies before you’re calling up kids who’s favorite animal is a penguin, so he looks at Charlie who’s waiting expectantly. “What are what?”

“The crunchies daddy. What are they? Miss Honey doesn’t know them.”

“Cutie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are crunchies?” He bends down with her to grab her backpack that’s still on the floor and he hears you laugh.

“Daddy the monstermashes,” Charlie whines, like he should know this.

“Oh,” he draws it out, “The M&M’s? The chocolate candy I put in?”

“No,” Charlie whines, and she turns to you with a pout. “Daddy doesn’t know too. It’s no use! Hopeless!”

He doesn’t know how or where she learns these phrases so quickly and how she uses them so correctly but he does know that he’s not alone in thinking it’s the cutest thing ever when you smile at her.

“Hold on, I bet we can figure it out together!” You tick off on your fingers as kids who love potato chips go to their cubbies and get their equally different folders and a second parent enters the hallway. He starts to wonder how many folders you bought to be prepared for all their different interests. Colors, animals, shapes, characters, sparkles and no sparkles. He wonders what else you did today.

“Let’s see, we have peanut butter…” Charlie nods and you gasp, “Is it crunchy peanut butter? Peanuts?”

She makes a face, much to his dismay they’re a creamy peanut butter household, so Steve shakes his head no and you tap your chin. “Okay, and it’s not the m&m’s or…” you smile at Steve, emphasizing the R’s in a way that tells him the very important letters were left out of the word, “Butterscotch.”

Charlie nods and the two of you are silent so he chimes in with, “Rice Krispies? The cereal?”

You smile and Charlie nods, “That’s it! Krispies!”

Crunchies, krispies, he has to give it to her, that’s pretty close. And from the way you react, he knows you knew all day, you just wanted to keep her distracted.

“I’m so glad we figured it out! I had such a great time learning with you today, Charlie, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Charlie nods and waves, shouting in his ear, “Bye Miss Honey!”

You wave back, smiling at the two as the next parent takes his place and you call up a boy named Matt.

Steve heads down the hallway, looping her backpack over his shoulder as he whispers, “Should we make Miss Honey some Monstermash cookies tonight? You can bring them tomorrow?”

Charlie shouts yes directly in his ear again and his hair gets trapped under her hand in her excitement and all he can do is sigh.

A content, tiny burst of affection, for sure.

[miguelhugger2099]

Power of the Sun

Summary: You're Doc O'Hara's assistant A/N: tentacle pron? Art: vencipality on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little violent/screaming, Angst?, Word Count: 3,004

Miguel was a man of science. He took pride in his work but was always humble about it. He was a kind mentor, encouraging young brilliant minds to pursue their passion in science and math, connecting with his peers and exchanging ideas to enrich and evolve humankind for the greater good. Knowledge is not a privilege, it’s a gift, he would say. Like any other one of his colleagues and apprentices, you admired him and his work. You followed him around as his assistant and confidant. Miguel trusted you after many years and you had fallen in love with him after many years. For a while, it had remained one-sided. A love you kept to yourself and didn’t believe that a man so brilliant as him would ever fall for someone like his subordinate. He deserved someone equally as knowledgeable–capable of keeping up with him. “Dr. O’Hara, I’ve printed all the documents of the latest experimentation process as well as sending a copy to Osborn.” You walked in his vast lab, heels clicking with each step against the marbled floor. Miguel was all the way in the back, only a dim fluorescent light highlighting him and whatever he was working on. His face was scrunched together as he focused on the task at hand. However when he heard your voice, he looked over his shoulder and his scowl melted. He called out your name gently, now a small smile on his face. He joined you in the middle, hands out as he collected the papers from your hands. He briefly flipped through the pages, scanning with his eyes before looking back up at you. He patted the front pages with the back of his hand and nudged his glasses up further his nose. “What would I do without you?” You flush, scoffing and looking to the side before reverting back to him. “You’d be fine, Dr.O’Hara.” You shake your head and swerve around him to take a look at whatever he was working on.

Miguel turns. “I beg to differ. For years, you’ve been a great asset at my side.” You hum. “And for years, you keep telling me that. But really, Doctor, it’s you who does the actual revolutionary actions.” He meets you at your side once he’s placed the papers securely somewhere. “Miguel.” He corrects you. “We’ve been together all this time. You know what else I keep telling you? That honorifics is unnecessary. Call me Miguel.” You clear your throat. “Okay, Miguel.” No matter how many times he reminded you, you would always say his name before reverting back to calling him Doctor. Perhaps habits are hard to break. “How’s it coming along?” You turn your head to see what he had been working on for a long time now. Miguel brightened up, standing straight and walking around the device. Four long green mechanical tentacles held up on their own all attached to a long spinal machine. He grazed his hands over the tentacles, admiring his own work. “We’re close, darling. It just needs some testing.” “Well if you’d like I could set up a volunteering headline for–” “No, no, no!” He stopped you by shaking his head and hands. “No, I–we can’t let this get out to the public yet. This is for the expo next month where Osborn will be. Perhaps he can finally understand why I’m doing this…” He mumbles to himself. You’re taken aback by his outburst but you rationalize it by thinking how exhausted he might be. Ever since Norman Osborn had disregarded Miguel’s research, Miguel had been working on crunch time to prove the CEO wrong. “Then how will you test it?” Your hand comes up to hold a claw from one of the tentacles. You examine the carbon fiber skeleton that Miguel used, trying to find the details of the prosthetic. Miguel admires you from the side, his eyes longing and far as he watches.

“I’ll–” He sighs. “I’ll think of…someone.” He murmurs. He feels an ache in his chest and looks back at his invention. The green of the arms glow softly against his brown skin, reflecting off his glasses. He looks over at you and sees the same for you. The curve of your cheeks and the light in your eyes tinged with green. “You know, um. It’s been a while since we’ve-eh- hung out?” Miguel stammers, taking off his glasses and cleans the right lens with his lab coat. “Maybe later tonight we could–if you like, of course– to join me for dinner?” He coughs and quickly places his glasses back on to hide his blush. He fails. You turn your head to face him, surprise evident on your face. “O-oh. As…colleagues?” Your voice pitches higher with nerves. Miguel gulps, Adam's apple bobbing with the action. “Well, no–it’s–what I’m trying to say is I’d like to have dinner with you as…more than colleagues.” Miguel burns brighter. He could solve the hardest equation, understand quantum physics and talk to scholars and billionaires with no sweat but when it came to you, you turned him into a babbling idiot. He glances at you from his peripheral vision, hoping you would not reject him. “Oh..! Then,” You give him a small smile. “I’d love to.”

What started as one date, began another and another until a series of dates had been planned and enjoyed before it blossomed into a relationship with your boss. You never thought it possible. You always thought of Miguel as someone out of your reach, someone who would rather focus on winning awards and gaining money–helping humankind–before ever thinking of settling down with anyone. For months, you had been going out with him, and establishing your relationship and for months you were helping him with his invention. Miguel screamed as he threw everything he had on his desk aside in anger. Pens, papers and other tools flew to the floor and he gripped his hair in frustration. He tugged on his long curls hoping that the pain in his strands would outweigh the pounding in his head. You ran to his side and placed a hand on his back while he curled into himself, heaving heavily. “You need to rest.” You urged. “These damn billionaires,” He growls, ignoring you. “Can’t they see we’re just trying to help people? Can’t they see beyond something as worthless as the money they want?” He stomps away from you, heading to the pinboard that held all his drawings and calculations. He ripped them off their pins and clips, tearing them to shreds as they fluttered to the floor. “This is the next step to human evolution! And they want to dump my shit, my life’s WORK, just because of what?” He laughs hysterically. “Because that malparido Osborn doesn’t believe in it? Are they so far up that elitists ass?” You watch terrified behind him. You feel your heart pumping, your eyes trained on him in case he hurts himself. “Miguel…” He slams his fists on the now bare pinboard, papers strewn across the floor around him. He heaves out another sigh, his anger simmering. “I just want to help people.” He whispers, resting his forehead on the rough surface. While he takes in shaky breaths, you decide to approach him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you turn his head towards you. Your heart breaks when you see the defeated look on his face. Eyebags had grown deeper, his eyes bloodshot and half lidded from sleep deprivation. “It’s okay.” You whisper.

“It’s not.” “It is. You’re a smart man, Miguel. You’ve done unimaginable things on your own. Your mind is what they need, but you? You don’t need their money. You have that brain of yours.” You tap his forehead and give him an encouraging grin. Miguel’s face falls into a relaxed smile, chuckling when you tap his forehead. “And you.” He whispers. “I have you.” He takes your hand off his shoulder and brings your knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. He keeps your hand against him until he breathes in and out slowly, looking up at you. “Thank you.” He mumbles, kissing your hand again before standing straight and moving his arms around your waist. “What would I do without you?” He grins tiredly. Your arms snake around his neck. “Probably die without me.” You giggled and he giggled with you. “Probably.” He hums while you look at each other, basking in the calm after the storm of emotions. “How about I bring us some tea?” You offer.

“No coffee?” “I think caffeine should be the least of your worries right now.” You roll your eyes playfully when you see his smirk. “English Breakfast?” You pat his chest before sliding away from his embrace, looking over your shoulder as you walk towards the exit. Miguel smiles and nods. “You know me so well.” He sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets after watching you leave. His smile drops from his face and he looks over at the giant green robotic tentacles. With a gentle hand, he caresses the silicon with care. Then, he moves onto the spinal cord of the device, wondering if Osborn just saw what he could do–then it would all be worth it. With a glance at the door, he makes sure the coast is clear before taking off his lab coat and shirt–and attaches the tentacles to his body.

You loved Miguel, honestly. The man you met was the sweetest. He was kind and caring, always patient and encouraging for new minds that wanted to learn. He was gentle. Was. You wondered where it all went wrong. Maybe you should’ve seen the signs. It seemed like everyday he would get slowly more agitated. Not at you. Never at you. More like, at the situation–at least you’d tell yourself that. You remember waking up one day in Miguel’s apartment. With your growing relationship, you decided to move in with him but it seemed like you were alone again. Miguel was sleeping at the lab more often than not. Other times you would have had to drag him out of his burrow, him snapping with red eyes that he needed to continue working. With a sigh, you shuffled out of bed, the other side being freezing cold, and got ready for work.

After clocking in, you found Miguel exactly where he was last night—hunched over and murmuring to himself. You place the tea you brought down onto the table along with a sleeping pill right next to him.

“Mi amor, you need to get some actual rest. It’s been days. You’ll wear yourself out.” You speak as quietly as possible to not scare him. Miguel doesn’t flinch, only shrugging you off.

“I’m almost done.” He grumbles.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now.” You frown deeply and nudge the tea closer to him. “At this rate everything will be in vain. It won’t work if—“

“IT WILL WORK!” Miguel screams, slamming his fist onto the table enough to shake the cup of tea's contents, spilling the sleeping pill. “It has to!”

You jump back, heart racing at his outburst.

Miguel huffs and collects himself, anxiously running his hands through his hair. He drags his hands down his face and rubs his eyes.

“Sorry, shock, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to yell at you. You're right—it’s the, uh, lack of sleep.” He sounds exhausted. Every word slurring and when he relaxed even for a moment, his body drooped forward.

“You know better than to do that…” You whisper and he looks up at you with heartbreak in his eyes.

“I…I know, mi cielo—pero—“ Miguel gives you a weak smile, some light coming back to his eyes. “Look. Look! The—the arms! They’re almost complete!” He rushes towards you, ignorant to the way you step back and flinch when he takes your hand in his.

Miguel leads you to where the tentacles stand and presents it to you with a wide smile.  “You see here?” He points to the spinal cord of the contraption. “All these ridges really gave me a run for my money. When trying to attach it to the body, they would stick and often fall. If these are to be used for prosthetics then it needs to not just be connected to the body but a part of it. As if the limb never left—or-or better—made better.” He laughs to himself, placing a hand over his mouth as he stares adoringly at the machine.

Meanwhile your eyes squint. “How…how would you know that? How would you know how they react to connecting to the human body? I thought…this was unstable for human testing.”

Miguel scoffs, waving his hand at you. “No one gets far in their inventions by worrying about the dangers, mija! THINK!” He shouts.

You’re horrified, darting your eyes between his bloodshot eyes and the tentacles. “You didn’t…”

Miguel is already on his way to the device and stands in front of it. The spine digs into Miguel’s back and he grunts, the vest he added secures around his waist, lighting up a soft green. The chip snaps into his neck and Miguel stumbles but regains balance. He slowly stands back up and the tentacles come to life, swirling and curling around him. In the midst of the tentacles wiggling around, it slammed against tables and chairs—knocking the tea you had gotten him to the floor.

“Think about how many lives we could save. Mi amor, mi vida, mi corazón, we’re at the brink of the next stage of human evolution!” His tentacles whip wildly around him as if cheering along with him.

“What…are you talking about?!” You yell, exasperated. “‘Human evolution’? Are you insane?!”

The bottom two green arms slam into the ground, breaking the floor as it’s crushed under the weight of Miguel. They lift him higher so he’s well above you—more than he already is. You take a step back, his height and strength becoming much more prominent.

“Do you think I’m insane, corazón?” Miguel asks softly. There’s a hint of green in his eyes.

“We’re—“ You gasp. “We’re meant to make prosthetics. Legs, arms—I thought this was a test to the future but this…” You run your eyes down the arms of the green silicon. Its claws are digging firm into the ground, holding up a six foot nine man’s weight with ease. Miguel’s face is contorted in a scowl, a burning rage underneath his beautiful brown eyes—a light green glowing in the highlights.

“This…is not you…” “What would you know about me?! You’re just some assistant that doesn’t know jackshit other than printing a few papers! All while I worked on this myself!” One of his upper tentacles slam next to you which makes you jump and lose your balance so you could fall to the ground.

“Day and night, all you did was be some aching headache, forcing me tea and pills when I should be wringing Osborn’s neck with my bare hands to show him what exactly he missed out on!” Miguel cackles, his tentacles lifting him higher like a God.

You’re afraid. Very afraid. It all happened so fast. Who was this man?

The tears well up in your eyes and for a minute—if you said another word it would trigger Miguel to kill you.

Miguel must’ve seen the terror on your face, tears bubbling at your water line and falling down your cheeks while you shivered. He must’ve because his sinister smile dropped slowly, his arms lowering him down. 

“No, no, no—bella—no. That’s—it wasn’t me—“ Miguel’s feet finally touch the ground and when he does, he hisses, gripping his head as an agonizing headache surges through his mind. He groaned and moaned and took several steps back away from you.

“No! Don’t make her look at me like that! She’s afraid! Don’t scare her! Don’t make her fear me!” He screams, hyperventilating as his legs shake beneath him. 

“What? No! I want Osborn! Not her! She didn’t do anything! Leave her alone! Please!” Miguel’s releases tears, giant globs flowing down his face as he faces an internal battle and the tentacles go haywire.

Finding your chance, you shakily get up from the floor, scrambling to your feet to the exit. You scream and fall after just a few steps, Miguel’s tentacles zipping past your head to break through the wall by the door. Another worker outside screams, peering through the hole and witnessing Miguel looking down at you with fury. They run off and it creates a domino effect for an evacuation.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Miguel growls and hovers closer to your shaking body. You turn over your shoulder, heart hammering in your ears and chest. You feel like you can’t breathe.

“Miggy…” You whimper. Miguel’s eye twitches and he looks like he’s struggling between himself and whatever it is that’s in his head.

He stutters your name out before his face is webbed and he groans. Four separate webs wrap around Miguel’s tentacles to attach to his body. Miguel glares up and sees a familiar red and blue suit with big white eyes.

“Don’tcha know it’s rude to be mean to a pretty lady?” The hero quips, standing front of you to protect you.

“Spider-Man…” You gasp—relief filling your chest.

“Spider-Man.” Miguel growls and rips himself free from the webs only to be hindered again once more—this time with stronger webs and with a force strong enough to stick him to a wall.

“Nope! Not yet! I’m still trying to figure out what exactly you are, so give me like five minutes to save some civilians. Thanks, you’re a swell guy!” Spider-Man winks and picks you up in his arms and quickly swings you away to safety.

You look over Spider-Man's shoulder while he swings away and you could barely hear Miguel scream in frustration, his body fighting against the webs. Inside, your heart breaks as you wonder if maybe there was a chance to save him.

A/N: i dont see doc ock miggys. i would like to see more.

[radiance1]

Unintelligible chanting echoed in a warehouse. A perfect summoning circle drawn on the ground with one cultist standing before it with a group more standing behind them.

Even thought the chanting was unintelligible, it was perfect. Not a clipped word or uneven tone out of place as they all, in unison, chanted the words to summon an almighty being from beyond.

Even as interlopers broke in the warehouse, they didn't stop chanting, only the cultists who weren't chanting and were previously standing around the room, broke away in an attempt to stall.

The circle glowed a toxic, unnatural green before growing dark yet darker. A black, mist like substance spreading from its focal point and out into the bounds of the circle before twisting and twisting as the temperature rose and grew into a sweltering heat that could be felt all throughout the warehouse.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as the last of their guard fell.

They did not stop chanting.

Even as some of the cultists at the back of the group started to engage in combat.

They did not stop chanting.

Until finally, the black mist twisted into a brilliant, unnatural black flame as the heat soared and shaped itself in the giant form of a bird before larger than large wings snapped themselves open.

Black flame slide off of the being's form like water, small flickers of deceptively harmless looking flame trailed down the bounds of the summoning circle as the phoenix lowered itself.

"So we meet again." The being spoke, its very presence demanding attention and respect. Impossibly red eyes focused all of their intent on the cultist and the helm. "What do you want this time? I am quite busy, as I'm sure you should be aware."

"O'h' great one," The cultist fell to their knees, hands spreading up and out reminiscent of a prayer. "The deepest flame, the guardian of the blackest fire, rival of the-"

"Enough of that nonsense." The being snapped, scoffing as it turned its head in disdain. "I did not answer your pitiful call just to hear you praise me. Make your demand, now. I have an appointment to keep."

The cultist seemed to deflate, for but a mere moment, before lowering their hands and clasping them in front of their chest. "O' great one, I have sowed the seeds and cultivated a cult in your name through the ages, we are might in number and consistent in our worship."

"I do not need a recap." The Pheonix said, blandly. Looking utterly disinterested in the cultist's words. "Your demand."

"After all of this, surely you would not mind parting with but a bit of your power?" The cultist asked and finally, the Pheonix seemed to stare with something more than mere disinterest before snapping its head up. "Do not interfere, mere interlopers." It snapped.

The heroes froze as, suddenly, they felt held down in place.

It then disregarded them, staring back down at the cultist before him with some level of interest and clicked its tongue. "Already blessed with immortality yet you wish for more? How..." Its eyes seemed to smile. Amused. As it purred. "Ambitious."

"Please, O' great one. Just a bit. A mere fraction would be enough."

"Oh all alright," The Pheonix said, holding up a wing as it plucked off a feather with its beak. "I suppose you have done enough to be worthy of a bit of my power."

The feather flew down from its beak, encased within a ball of black flame that, as the cultist spread their arms, fused into their chest.

"Do try not to be consumed by it. As I do expect noteworthy things from you."

With that, the Pheonix disappeared in a puff of mist like fire. The circle instantly losing all vibrancy and the sweltering heat snuffing itself out.

And the heroes were free of whatever magic kept them bound in place.

The cultist slowly stood up, back facing them as something bubbled up under the back of their cloak before large, flaming wings burst through the cloth of their cloak. They slowly turned around, and the movement almost looked serene, and faced the heroes.

The cultist slowly spread their hands. "I would have thought the Justice League would have handled this matter themselves, not send their younglings after me." They spoke, calm and measured and holding no feeling whatsoever. Black flame spilled from their hands as they stretched their wings.

"Come. Young heroes. You would be the perfect steppingstone to test my new abilities."

[nmakii]

SWAY WITH ME…

— a date with alastor didn’t go as he had planned… but, it wasn’t that bad after all…

hi!!! i saw this idea from @callmechito and, i didnt make the idea exactly the way specified. but, i really wanted to try :)!! it is late at night though, so i did not make it as long as i wanted it to be (sorry if it’s rushed!!)

acid rain. perhaps it would’ve been wiser to check the 666 news weather report before scheduling your date…

you stood by the window of your hotel room, wearing what you’d call your sunday’s bests. thousands of sinners’ skins burning on impact from the acidic rain pouring outside.

knock!

“s/o, are you decent? may i come in?” a static voice came from the other side of the door. “uuh, yeah! come in” you called back to him as he gently opened the door.

and on the other side of the door, you saw a different side of alastor that had never been seen before; a smitten yet small smile drawn on his face, wearing a red coat, as per usual (though this time, his coat is not tattered), and his big doe eyes shyly looking at the outfit you’d chosen for your proposed date.

alastor let out a quiet sigh, an overwhelming feeling filling his chest, making it hard to breath. “my dear! well, aren’t you stunning? i might just drop dead right now, haha!” alastor laughed, a laugh track joining along. “haha… it’s a shame that we have to cancel our date…” you smiled bittersweetly, quite honestly looking forward to the date. it must have been a millennia since your last date, not to mention how it is with alastor, hell’s most eligible bachelors if i do say so myself…

“well, who said we had to cancel our date?” he tilted his head. “i’d think the rain outside would speak for itself…” you muttered out. “we could just have our date here at the hotel! we could simply move the date to my hotel room, would you like that?” his fingers tapped against his staff.

“su-“”brilliant! let’s make haste now!” he smiled gleefully, taking his hand in yours and shadow teleporting you to his hotel room— the warm red tones of the hotel harshly contrasting with the cool blue and green tones of the forest on the other side.

alastor took your fingers in his hand and gently guided you to a table with two seats. he pulled one out and helped you into the chair. “just sit tight now, darling. i’ll have niffty whip something up for us.” he smiled before leaving the room.

minutes later, alastor came back— two delectable dishes in hand. he placed one in front of you before sitting down himself and digging in.

the two of you had spent your dinner getting to know each other better (more like just him getting to know you better…), talking about whatever came to mind.

not for one second had you ever doubted alastor tonight. everything coming from his beautifully thin lips had sounded as genuine as ever.

after dinner had ended, you wiped your mouth with the napkin on your lap. “alastor, i had a really good time…” you grinned awkwardly, blood rushing to your face. “i think i must go now, i have a busy day tomorrow…” you frowned slightly before standing up to leave.

“nonsense! come, dance with me for a while, would you?” he teasingly pleaded, placing a hand on your shoulder. you hesitated for a while, considering the consequences of staying up an extra few minutes. “ahh… i guess it couldn’t hurt..” you smiled as alastor walked to his vinyl record played, placing the needle onto the grooves of the CD.

as alastor placed a hand on your shoulder and hip, sway by michael bublé began playing. you copied his actions, placing your own hands on his hip and shoulder as the two of you began dancing to the soft music, alastor’s soft voice singing along to the tune.

you soaked in the soft sight of the scary radio demon, as docile as a doe. you rested the side of your head against alastor’s chest, feeling every vibration as he sang. alastor sighed softly, all of this simply being too much for him to act calmly.

all of these emotions were too much, alastor needed a way to release them… he took his hand off of your shoulder before gently gripping your chin. he leaned down a bit before kissing you.

his lips smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip snaking up to cup your cheek.

the kiss lasted quite long before he finally pulled away, a proud yet mischievous grin decorating his handsome face.

alastor leaned down, his mouth hovering over your ear. “would you like to know something, gorgeous?” he whispered, the hand on your chin resting once more on your shoulder. “i’d say i’m the luckiest man in hell right now, on a date with a treasure like you. i might just die, again!” he laughed. though, despite his joke— when he had said that, the radio filter on his voice was gone, letting you hear his true voice.

you looked up to meet his careful gaze as you grinned lovingly “i had a marvelous time with you… you make me happy that… im in hell.” you laughed.

as the song stopped, alastor paused, thinking to himself quietly. he dropped your hand before cupping your back. “you said you must leave, didn’t you? i wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re groggy in the morning!” he smiled, walking you over to your hotel room, just a few ways down.

“i did have an amazing night with you, my dear. i hope we could do this again, perhaps again during an acid rain shower?” he teased while laughing. a calm composure remaining on his face.

and despite that poker face, he was in the best terms; burning on the inside out. his longing for you filling all of his senses. he must stay gentlemanly though… so, for now, he’ll cherish the beautiful date he had with you tonight.

[gyorouis]

𐙚 HE GETS ME SO HIGH.

— he stands there, asking "would you accept kisses for a lemonade?"

genre: fluff, hint of angst (they're just oblivious), childhood friends to lovers trope

pairing: chf!beomgyu x chf!reader (afab)

warning: none

wordcount: 6.3k (what the hell)

now playing: beabadoobee — he gets me so high ୨ৎ

"give those shrimps to me," you say, slowly spooning the shrimps from beomgyu's plate. he nods, unfazed, and reaches over to take a sip from your lemonade. the cool drink contrasts with the warmth of the food, and he smirks at you, a silent understanding passing between you two. 

you have been friends with beomgyu since what feels like an eternity. it all began when you were both still preschoolers. your family had just moved into a new house, and everyone was busy with the hustle and bustle of unpacking and arranging. you, being the only one without a task, decided to spend your time outside.

the sky was a brilliant shade of blue, with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily. you were lost in the joy of watching birds soar across the sky, their wings cutting through the air with graceful ease. you smiled to yourself, trying to count how many had flown past the tall, sturdy tree in your yard, its leaves rustling gently in the breeze. 

suddenly, a sharp "psst!" broke your concentration. you looked around, searching for the source of the sound, and your eyes landed on a boy, likely your age. he was taller than you, with dark brown hair that framed his round, doe-like eyes. he wore a pink sleeveless hoodie that complemented his fair skin perfectly. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, revealing a hint of shyness and curiosity.

you furrow your brow, trying to ignore him. "i know you saw me. don’t you dare ignore me," he insists, his small hand resting on his waist, his gaze piercing.

"is that how you welcome your new neighbour?" you quip, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes.

"this is my first time having a neighbour. i have no friends," he admits softly.

to an outsider, your heated exchange might seem like an argument, but it's simply the distance between you that amplifies your voices. "you know you can come into our yard. stop shouting," you offer, a playful tease that elicits a wide grin from him. with that, he dashes towards you, his laughter echoing in the air.

“you’re my friend now.” he said, panting and holding out his hands for you to shake, what a peculiar way to befriend someone, you thought.

“are you desperate to have friends?” you said without accepting his hands. “no, it just so happen that the neighbor is empty, i have a few friends from the racing club where my dad always goes.” he said.

“you’re quite mouthful.” you said chuckling, “you’re quite mean and brat” he fires back, turning your sweet chuckles into unrestrained laughter.

“my mom is baking lemon squares, would you like some?” you said, inviting him inside your house. 

that's how your friendship with beomgyu started. since then, you would always play in either of your houses' yards, often with the kitchen set you once cried to your mom to have because your classmate had it. you both spent countless afternoons pretending to cook gourmet meals, giggling as you mixed imaginary ingredients and served each other invisible dishes.

the yard was your playground and sanctuary. in the spring, the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and you would run barefoot on the soft, green grass, playing tag until you were breathless with laughter. beomgyu would sometimes bring his toy cars, and you'd build elaborate tracks in the dirt, racing each other to see who had the fastest vehicle.

during the hot summer days, you'd set up a lemonade stand, hoping to make a few pennies from the neighbours. your makeshift booth, decorated with hand-drawn signs, was the source of endless joy and pride. beomgyu always managed to charm the customers with his infectious smile and cheerful demeanor, while you diligently squeezed lemons and counted the change.

in autumn, the fallen leaves became your treasure. you and beomgyu would take them into giant piles and take turns jumping into them, the crisp leaves crunching beneath your weight. sometimes, you'd pretend to be explorers in a foreign land, with the yard transforming into a vast, uncharted territory full of hidden wonders.

even in the cold winter months, your friendship didn't wane. bundled up in thick coats and scarves, you'd brave the chill to build snow forts and have epic snowball fights. when your fingers and toes grew numb, you'd retreat inside to warm up with hot cocoa, sitting by the fireplace and planning your next great adventure.

as you both grew older and entered grade school, your bond only grew stronger. you partnered up for school projects, sharing secrets and dreams during lunch breaks. beomgyu’s charm and kindness made him popular among your classmates, and it wasn't long before people started to take notice of him. his friendly nature drew others in, and you often found yourself surrounded by new friends because of him.

by middle school, beomgyu had become the unofficial leader of your group of friends. he had an effortless way of making everyone feel included, and his laughter was infectious. you continued to share everything with him – your worries, your dreams, and your plans for the future. it was during these years that you both discovered your interests and passions. you found a love for writing, crafting stories and poems with emotional and descriptive language, while beomgyu excelled in sports and music.

high school brought new challenges and adventures. beomgyu joined the school's soccer team and a band, quickly becoming a star player and a talented musician. his popularity soared, and it seemed like everyone had a crush on him. you often found yourself playing the role of a mediator, as classmates approached you to get closer to beomgyu. they would ask for his favorite snacks, his schedule, or even tips on how to talk to him. you didn't mind at all – perhaps, that’s what you thought.

your friendship remained unwavering despite the attention he received. beomgyu always made time for you, whether it was studying together for exams, attending school dances, or simply hanging out at your favorite café. you both supported each other's dreams and aspirations, cheering each other on through every success and failure.

as graduation approached, you both faced the daunting task of deciding your future paths. you applied to colleges with strong writing programs, while beomgyu auditioned for music schools and sports scholarships. the thought of possibly going to different schools was bittersweet, but you knew that your bond was strong enough to withstand the distance.

watching beomgyu have his growing popularity and the small crushes people had on him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. he handled it all with grace and humility, never letting it change who he was at his core. you admired his ability to stay true to himself, even as everyone around him seemed to be fighting for his attention.

college acceptance letters arrived, and you were thrilled to be accepted into your top choice for its renowned writing program. beomgyu received multiple offers as well, and after much consideration, he chose a school with both a strong music department and a competitive soccer team. though you would be attending different colleges, you promised to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible.

these were the times like this, both of you slumped on your apartment's worn, yet cozy couch, surrounded by the aroma of home-cooked meals. the table before you was a feast of your favorite shrimp pasta and beomgyu’s beloved carbonara, accompanied by your signature lemonade, its tangy sweetness a nostalgic reminder of simpler times.

"those times where we played cooking sure do help you become this good," beomgyu remarked, a playful grin on his face as he twirled his fork in the creamy pasta.

"it comes out naturally," you replied with a shrug, though secretly pleased by his compliment.

"how is it going with soobin, anyway?" he asked, referring to your blockmate who had become a close friend during your college years.

"we're good friends," you said, your voice a bit too casual as you avoided his teasing gaze.

"you're so boring. come on, tell me about it!" he persisted, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

you took a deep breath, your mind racing. how could you begin to tell him? what would you even say? that whenever you were with soobin, all you talked and blabbed about was him? that your lunchtime conversations with soobin often revolved around beomgyu, your little crush on him since third grade? since that summer you were selling your good old lemonade, and he cheekily asked if you accepted kisses as payment for a lemonade? no way, you wouldn't want to talk about it, not with him.

having soobin had been a relief because he was the only person who knew about your little crush on beomgyu.

"i'm telling the truth!" you lied, attempting to sound convincing.

"whatever, keep that romance in you then," he said, rolling his eyes and digging back into his food.

you returned your attention to the television. flipped was playing – a movie you had both watched countless times since high school. its familiar scenes unfolded on the screen, a comforting backdrop to your thoughts.

your eyes darted to your lap when beomgyu absentmindedly flopped his legs on top of yours, his weight warm and reassuring. beomgyu and his antics never failed to make your heart race like a marathon winner.

"you're so gross, get your legs off of me," you said, pushing his legs off to save yourself from a heart attack.

"don't act like we didn't shower together until second grade," he said, flicking your forehead with a mischievous smile.

you shot him a look, a deadly one, before turning your head to hide your flushed cheeks, which had turned a deep shade of tomato-red.

"you’re so easy to fluster," he teased, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head. "but seriously, i’m glad we still get to do this. college has been crazy, but hanging out with you feels like home."

"same here," you murmured, your heart swelling with a mix of fondness and unspoken longing.

the movie played on, and the room filled with a comfortable silence. you glanced at beomgyu, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. he was still the same beomgyu you’d known since childhood, yet somehow different – more mature, more confident. you wondered if he ever felt the same way about you, if he ever thought about those summers spent selling lemonade or the countless afternoons playing pretend.

as the credits rolled, beomgyu stretched and yawned. "i should get going. early practice tomorrow," he said, getting up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"yeah, don’t want to keep you," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"hey," he said, turning to look at you with a soft smile. "thanks for dinner. it was really good, as always."

"no problem," you said, returning his smile.

he leaned in and gave you a quick hug, his arms warm and comforting around you. "see you soon?"

"definitely," you promised, your heart aching a little as you watched him leave.

after he left, you sat back down on the couch, staring at the empty bowls and the remnants of your meal. your thoughts drifted back to soobin and your countless conversations about beomgyu. you knew you couldn’t keep your feelings hidden forever, but for now, you were content with the way things were. beomgyu was your best friend, and that was enough.

at least, that’s what you told yourself.

a week passed without the sight of beomgyu, and you couldn't deny missing him for the past few days. you missed seeing his doe eyes twinkle whenever he looked at you, the way his hair fell on his forehead, and his small teases that got you flustered every time. despite not seeing beomgyu in person, you still got to talk to him through the phone, sharing late-night calls where you talked about everything from your daily routines to you talking about your frustrations with writing, to silly stories that happens to you. those calls were a lifeline, a way to keep the connection strong even with the distance. each conversation reminded you why everyone adored him – his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel seen and heard.

"what do you think?" your attention snapped back to soobin when he waved his hand in front of you. "you’re thinking about him again," he teased, a knowing smile on his face.

"shut up," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"what were you saying again?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation back.

"i was asking if you could come with me to this party," he said, showing you a picture of an invitation on his phone. it was a glossy card, elegantly designed with gold lettering. "taehyun's throwing it. you know, our blockmate? he’s friends with beomgyu too."

"didn't know they still do physical invitations these days," you said, examining the picture.

"i know, right? it's pretty old-school," soobin chuckled. "but it's supposed to be a big deal. lots of people from our department will be there. it'll be fun."

you considered his offer for a moment. a party could be a good distraction, a chance to clear your head and maybe even enjoy yourself. plus, it would be nice to spend some time with soobin outside of your usual routine.

"alright, i'll go with you," you agreed, smiling.

"great! it'll be fun, i promise," soobin said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "we'll meet at my place around 7?"

"sounds good," you nodded.

later that day, you decided to give beomgyu a call. you dialed his number, feeling a flutter of nerves as you waited for him to pick up.

"hey, you," his familiar voice came through the line, instantly soothing you.

"hey, beomgyu," you said, smiling. "so, there's this party at taehyun's place on friday. are you going?"

"taehyun's party? i heard about it," he replied, his tone regretful. "i don't think i can make it, though. things have been really hectic with the band and soccer practice. i'm swamped."

"oh," you said, unable to hide your disappointment. "that's too bad. it would have been nice to see you."

"i know," he said softly. "i miss you. but i'll make it up to you, i promise. we'll find some time to hang out soon."

"i'd like that," you replied, feeling a bit better. "take care of yourself, okay?"

"you too," he said. "have fun at the party."

the rest of the week flew by in a blur of classes and assignments. despite your best efforts, your thoughts often drifted back to beomgyu. you wondered what he was up to, if he missed you as much as you missed him. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the upcoming party.

when friday night arrived, you found yourself standing in front of your closet, debating what to wear. after much deliberation, you settled on a casual yet stylish outfit – a soft, oversized sweater paired with your favorite jeans and ankle boots. you wanted to look good, but not like you were trying too hard.

the party at taehyun's house was already in full swing by the time you arrived. the house was packed with people, the air filled with the hum of conversations and the beat of music. you stuck close to soobin, navigating through the crowd and making small talk with familiar faces.

"there's a drink station in the kitchen," soobin pointed out. "let's grab something."

you followed him into the kitchen, where a variety of drinks were laid out on the counter. as you poured yourself a soda, you couldn’t help but glance around, half-expecting to see beomgyu’s familiar face in the crowd.

"you okay?" soobin asked, handing you a cup.

"yeah, just... taking it all in," you said, forcing a smile.

"you'll have fun, i promise," he assured you, clinking his cup against yours.

as the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing more, even enjoying the party. you and soobin danced, laughed, and chatted with friends. it was a good distraction, a way to momentarily forget about the ache of missing beomgyu.

but as the evening drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. you stepped outside for some fresh air, leaning against the railing of the porch. the cool night air was a refreshing contrast to the lively atmosphere inside.

"mind if i join you?" soobin’s voice broke the silence.

"not at all," you replied, glancing at him as he leaned against the railing beside you.

"you’ve been a bit off tonight," he said gently. "is it because of beomgyu?"

you sighed, nodding. "i just... i miss him. it’s weird not having him around."

"i get it," soobin said. "but you know, he probably misses you just as much."

"maybe," you said, staring at the stars. "it’s just hard sometimes."

"hey," soobin nudged you lightly. "for what it’s worth, i think you’re handling it really well. and if you ever need to talk, i’m here."

"thanks, soobin," you said, smiling at him.

"anytime," he replied, his smile warm and reassuring.

as you stood there, the cool night air wrapping around you, you felt a bit better. the party had been a good distraction, and soobin's support meant a lot. you knew that no matter what happened, you had friends who cared about you.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d find a way to tell beomgyu how you really felt. but for now, you were content to take things one step at a time, surrounded by people who made your world a little brighter.

your mind was filled, and you didn't even realize you were drinking pretty heavily. just then, when you stood up to get another cup of drink and to find soobin, you realized you were drunk. your world was practically spinning now. "fuck," you muttered, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

you took a deep breath, trying to clear your head, but the room kept swaying. deciding it was best to find soobin and tell him you needed to go home, you carefully made your way through the crowded living room. each step felt like walking on a rocking boat, and you had to focus hard to keep from stumbling.

finally, you spotted soobin talking to some friends near the back of the house. you waved to get his attention, but your hand-eye coordination was off, and it came out as more of a flailing gesture.

"soobin!" you called out, your voice louder than you intended. he turned and immediately noticed your state, his smile fading into concern.

"hey, are you okay?" he asked, quickly making his way over to you.

"i think i've had too much to drink," you admitted, leaning heavily against him for support.

"let's get you some water and find a place for you to sit down," he said, guiding you to a quieter corner of the house. he handed you a bottle of water and watched as you took a few sips, the cool liquid helping to clear some of the fog in your mind.

"thanks, soobin," you said, your voice a bit steadier now.

"no problem," he replied, sitting down beside you. "do you want me to call you a ride home?"

you nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude. "yeah, that would be great."

as soobin pulled out his phone to arrange a ride, you leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment. the sounds of the party seemed distant now, a muffled background noise to your swirling thoughts.

"hey, is she okay?" a familiar voice broke through your haze, and you opened your eyes to see taehyun standing there, his expression worried.

"yeah, she just had a bit too much to drink," soobin explained. "i'm getting her a ride home."

"do you need any help?" taehyun offered, looking between the two of you.

"i think we're good, but thanks," soobin replied with a small smile.

just then, your phone buzzed with a text. you fumbled to pull it out of your pocket, squinting at the screen. it was from beomgyu.

["hey, i finished practice early. how's the party? missing you."]

you couldn't help but smile at his message, the warmth of his words cutting through the fog. you quickly typed a reply, your fingers clumsy on the screen.

["wish you were here. i might have had a bit too much to drink. soobin's getting me a ride home."]

almost immediately, your phone buzzed again. ["wait there. i'm coming to get you."]

you stared at the message, your heart skipping a beat. beomgyu was coming? despite his hectic schedule, he was dropping everything to come to your rescue. the thought filled you with a mix of relief and affection.

"beomgyu's on his way," you told soobin, feeling a bit more at ease.

"that's good," soobin said, patting your shoulder. "he'll take care of you."

you nodded, leaning back and letting your eyes drift shut again. it felt like only a few minutes had passed before you heard beomgyu's voice.

"where is she?" his tone was urgent, and you opened your eyes to see him scanning the room. when he spotted you, his expression softened with relief.

"i'm here," you called out weakly, lifting your hand.

beomgyu rushed over and knelt beside you, his eyes filled with concern. "are you okay?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"i'm better now that you're here," you admitted, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. the combination of alcohol and emotions was overwhelming.

"let's get you home," he said gently, helping you to your feet. with one arm securely around your waist, he guided you out of the house and to his car.

the cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside. beomgyu helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were comfortable before getting in on the driver's side. as he started the car, he glanced over at you, his expression softening.

"you scared me," he admitted quietly. "i hate seeing you like this."

"i'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling a wave of guilt. "i didn't mean to ruin your night."

"you didn't ruin anything," he assured you, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "i'm just glad i could be here for you."

the drive home was quiet, the streetlights passing by in a blur as beomgyu drive through the late-night traffic. you leaned against the passenger window, feeling the cool glass against your cheek as you tried to gather your thoughts.

"you're always nice, not just to me but with everybody," you murmured, your voice soft and slurred from the alcohol. "no wonder everybody likes you."

beomgyu glanced at you with a fond smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. "why? do youme like the way they do?" he teased gently, his tone playful yet sincere.

"maybe," you whispered, the words barely audible even to yourself. beomgyu turned to look at you, about to ask you to repeat yourself, but as he glanced over, he saw you already drifting off to sleep. your head had slumped against the car window, your breathing steady and calm.

"hey," he said softly, reaching over to gently adjust your head so it rested more comfortably against the headrest. he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable in sleep. he drove the rest of the way in silence, stealing occasional glances at you, his heart warm with affection.

when he finally pulled up to your apartment building, beomgyu carefully unbuckled your seatbelt and gently lifted you into his arms. you stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, but didn't wake. he carried you up to your apartment, his steps light and careful, not wanting to disturb your sleep.

inside, he laid you down on your bed, tucking a blanket around you with utmost tenderness. as he stood there, watching you sleep, he brushed a stray hair from your face, his fingertips lingering against your cheek.

as you drifted off to sleep, the last thing you felt was the gentle press of beomgyu's lips against your forehead, and you knew, deep down, that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

you woke up from the smell of bacon and eggs wafting into your nostrils, slowly stirring from sleep. who could possibly be in your kitchen right now?

curiosity piqued, you tiptoed out of your bedroom and crept toward the kitchen. there, you saw broad shoulders moving skillfully as someone cooked. leaning against the wall, you observed quietly. his hair was tousled from bed, and he hummed softly while his head bobbed to an unheard rhythm, completely unaware of your presence.

a smile tugged at your lips. it was a rare treat to see beomgyu like this—casual, domestic, and utterly charming. you couldn't help but wonder, would he be like this if you weren't just friends, but lovers? the thought sent a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you quickly turned away, rushing back to your room to wash your face.

"fuck," you muttered to yourself, the cool water helping to clear your mind. "fuck it."

you were supposed to just have a crush on him, a harmless infatuation. not this—where you found yourself imagining him as more than a friend, your heart racing at the mere thought.

you went to your kitchen again, this time more prepared—or so you told yourself. you tried to erase the lingering thoughts from your mind.

"you're here?" you began, catching beomgyu's attention. "oh, you're awake. i've prepared coffee, just help yourself," he stated casually.

"yes, sir," you replied with a small smile, feeling a flutter in your chest at his easy presence.

you thanked him for last night and talked about what happened at the party and how his practice went. you watched him as he excitedly recounted the events of the practice game and the band, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you couldn't help but wonder if his eyes always sparkled like that, your heart tugging at the thought.

his lips, ever so slightly pouting when he talked about losing his favorite guitar pick, seemed particularly inviting today, drawing your attention. you noticed how they curved into a smile when he caught you staring.

"do i have something on my mouth?" he asked, his voice teasing, making you flinch slightly and look into his eyes. "y-yeah, you've got ketchup on your lower lip. it's gross," you lied, your cheeks heating up.

his smile grew wider, amused. how could he have ketchup on his lips when he didn't even like ketchup in the first place? it was a detail you, of all people, had memorized.

playing along, he pretended to wipe whatever imaginary ketchup was on his lips. "what were you saying again?" you asked, trying to regain your composure.

beomgyu stayed the whole day to spend it with you. you were busy working on your work-in-progress plate while he played games on your pc. the hum of the computer and the clicking of his mouse filled the room, blending with the soft rustle of paper as you sketched. "don't you have practice today?" you asked as you stretched, your back sore from sitting too long. he paused his game for a moment, glancing over at you. "we don't, why?" he replied, his voice casual but his eyes curious.

"nothing, just asking," you added, trying to sound nonchalant as you returned to your work.

he nodded and fished his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, checking it briefly. 13 unread messages, 5 missed calls. he pursed his lips and put his phone in airplane mode, pursing his lips before and shaking his head.

"what are we having for lunch?" he asked, drawing your attention. when you didn't answer immediately, he looked at you, finding you deep in thought. your pen was on your lips, which you nibbled absentmindedly as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. you muttered a few words under your breath, trying to fit them into your writing.

beomgyu completely shifted his focus to you, his elbows resting on your pc table as he watched you intently. he knew you had a talent for writing, especially poems. memories of you helping him with his literature assignments in high school flashed in his mind. you always earned him straight As, and he kept all those assignments in his closet, casually reading them whenever he had time.

he was the one who pushed you to pursue writing. you were supposed to take another course because your parents said it wasn't practical. he remembered the day you cried to him about it, your tears glistening like stars in your eyes. without you knowing, he talked to your parents, telling them how much you loved writing and how he loved seeing your eyes light up whenever you shared your ideas with him. it was the same way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about you with his blockmate friend, kai.

he had no idea when or why it started, but he remembered one day when kai and he were discussing poems to get ideas for writing songs. his eyes lit up, and he began bragging about you and your writing. he was always like this, whether it was from pure adoration of his best friend or something deeper, he paid it no mind.

he remembered the smallest things about you and would insert your name into every conversation he had with kai. it sometimes made kai laugh at how oblivious beomgyu was about his feelings toward you. "you like her, don't you?" kai said to him once when beomgyu suddenly mentioned you while they were talking about their favorite online game. when they talked about valorant, his eyes lit up as he started talking about how you loved playing it. "you think?" he casually asked kai, as if liking you didn't bother him.

since then, he became more cautious of your reactions to him, trying to read you. he watched as you got flustered easily with his antics and remarks. at first, he thought it was just a natural occurrence whenever he teased you.

but he thought otherwise when he tried to put his hand on your chin once when you asked if you had something in your eye. it was hard for him—really hard—to focus on your eyes without suddenly wanting to brush his lips against yours. he witnessed how your cheeks changed from pale to bright pink, almost tomato-like.

that's when he realized that he wasn't the only one who got flustered at being this close. no one would get flustered with their friend's face this close, right? right. no one. he convinced himself.

"hey," you repeated, snapping beomgyu out of his thoughts. "hmm?" he responded, his brows lifting, eyes meeting yours with a gentle curiosity.

"i said, would you like to just order or should i cook?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. he paused, considering, before his face broke into that familiar, heartwarming grin. "hmm, pizza?" your eyes sparkled  with excitement. "omg! yes, i love your brain so much," you exclaimed, the joy in your voice making beomgyu's smile widen. you hurried toward him, phone in hand, not thinking as you plopped down into his lap. his hands moved instinctively, wrapping around your waist steadying you. "hey, take it easy..." he chuckled, the sound of his laughter vibrating through you.

still unaware of how closely you were sitting, you held up your phone to show him the food options. "what would you like?" you asked eagerly, eyes bright with anticipation. "what are you having?" he asked, his gaze not on the phone but on your face. he loved watching you get excited over the simplest things. his eyes drifted down to his arms, wrapped snugly around you, and a soft blush spread across his cheeks at the thought of holding you like this every day.

"i'll have whatever you're having," beomgyu said, his voice tender "i'm having garlic shrimp," you said, looking at him. "hmm... it could work," he replied, surprising you. "really? you want to try seafood?" you asked, amused. "oh come on, don't act like i haven't eaten seafood at least once," he said, rolling his eyes and earning a sweet chuckle from you.

"how about drinks?" you asked again. "i miss your lemonade," he whispered, his head resting lightly against your back, his arms tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

"i still have a few lemons in the fridge. i'll make us some," you said. it was then you realized you were sitting in his lap. you shifted to look at beomgyu, who was now snuggling closer. you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling the urge to snuggle into him as well.

"are you sleepy?" you asked softly. he shook his head and looked up at you, his breath catching as he realized how close your faces were, your noses nearly touching. "...so close," you said, wide-eyed, trying to signal him to move back, but he didn't budge. "...hmm, so close," he whispered, his hot breath making you lose your own.

slowly, ever so slowly, beomgyu leaned in, his face mere inches from yours. his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he found was your sparkling gaze, filled with a longing that mirrored his own. he took your gaze as consent, inching even closer. just as your lips were about to meet, the apartment doorbell rang. you jumped up from his lap, your heart racing. "that must be the food," you said, a slight tremor in your voice.

"i-i'll get it," you said, heading for your room when beomgyu's hand gently clasped yours. you turned back to him, his touch grounding you. "hey, don't panic. let me get it. you go make the lemonade," he said, his fingers softly brushing against your cheek.

his touch usually calmed you, but this time it sent your heart into overdrive. you shook your head, trying to steady the rush of emotions. "o-okay," you said, retreating to the kitchen, your mind swirling with the almost-kiss and to your fast heartbeat that you can literally hear.

lunch with beomgyu bordered on awkwardness. after that almost-kiss, neither of you had uttered a word, and now, as you ate, the silence stretched between you. a movie played in the background, but neither of you focused on the television. instead, both of you were lost in your own thoughts, replaying what had happened in the very room, thinking about what could have happened if the food hadn't arrived. beomgyu wanted to curse the food. no, he wanted to curse himself for being too slow to even brush his lips against yours.

you glanced at beomgyu, his expression thoughtful and distant. his fork pushed around the shrimp on his plate, not really eating. the tension in the air was palpable, making you squirm in your seat. you took a sip of your lemonade, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind kept drifting back to the feel of his arms around you, the way his breath had mingled with yours.

"beomgyu," you finally said, breaking the silence. your voice sounded tentative even to your own ears. he looked up, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"yeah?" his voice was soft, almost cautious.

"about earlier..." you began, trailing off as you searched for the right words. his eyes darkened slightly, and he leaned forward, giving you his full attention.

"i'm sorry," he said suddenly, surprising you. "i shouldn't have... i mean, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." his words tumbled out, and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

"no, it's not that," you said quickly, shaking your head. "it's just... i wasn't uncomfortable. i was just surprised, that's all." you bit your lip, trying to find the courage to say what you really felt. "beomgyu, i..."

"you what?" he prompted gently, his gaze unwavering.

"i've liked you for a long time," you blurted out, your cheeks burning. "since we were kids, really. and i guess i didn't realize just how much until recently." there, you said it. the truth was out in the open, and you felt both relieved and terrified.

he stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. "i've felt the same way for so long, but i was too scared to say anything."

you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "really?"

"really," he confirmed, his big hands found their way to your warm cheeks like it was fit to caress it "and about earlier... i'm glad the food came when it did. because now, we can do this properly." he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours.

"would you still accept kisses for a lemonade?" beomgyu asked, a wide grin on his lips.

you felt your heart skip a beat, the playful words from your childhood carrying so much weight now. "only if you're the customer," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled, his gaze softening as he leaned closer. "i am," he murmured.

as the two of you came closer, it felt like the bridge of uncertainty had collapsed beneath you, leaving behind the years of pining and hesitation. in that moment, as your lips met in a gentle, tender kiss, it was as if everything had fallen into place. the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing dissolved, replaced by a warmth that spread from your intertwined hands to the depths of your hearts. each touch, each whispered confession, sealed the promise of something new and beautiful—something that had been quietly blossoming between you for years.

gyo's note: sacrificing my sleep to finish this is the best decision i've made so far >< your feedback will mean a lot for me and if you could, please reblog or i will cry. i hope you liked it if you made it to this part. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Crush

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Boss!Miguel x lab tech!reader

summary: You've got a crush on your boss. But it's harmless - doesn't mean anything. Until it does.

warnings: no warnings. just fluff :D

a/n: just a little something I wrote to take a break from the college au fic I'm writing. sweet and fluffy and happy bc I've put this poor guy through so much 😭

not proofread at all, my bad y'all

wc: 1.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thinking about being Miguel's respite. His soft spot, a place to lay his head away from all the bullshit. you're not apart of the spider society, not strictly, just a technician that puts their head down and gets on with it. and sure, you've got a little crush on your boss, but who wouldn't? Miguel is smart, mostly calm, and surprisingly funny. whilst everyone cracks a smile at all the mile-a-minute jokes of the other spiderpeople; you find yourself laughing at all of your boss' little moments. dry, deadpan, humor - and he looks so, so good when he says it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You swoop in with the-" Peter B makes a swoosh sound, hand swiping across the air like a kid playing with toy planes. "And then I'll do a-" 

Thud. He brings his hand down to the table solidly, with some force. It makes the table shudder and your head pops up slightly from under a workstation, hiding a smile. With their backs turned, they don't notice you're there.

You've got a pair of pliers in one hand, and a mess of wires with the other. You don't see the both of them that often, preferring to squirrel yourself away in the labs, but you've been stuck here with system updates. Whilst you've drawn the short end of the straw, yet again, it doesn't feel like it; basking in the warmth of the two even from the opposite end of the room. 

Miguel gives him a look, eyebrow raised. Peter waits, expectantly. A beat passes. 

" Oh. Are you… is that the whole plan?" Poking ever so slightly out of the tangle of wires, you catch his facial expression and it makes you giggle. Fuck. You clamp your hand over your mouth and retreat back into the depths. 

Busying yourself with the work, you pretend not to hear them pad towards you. It doesn't last long, and you're met with Peter B's face: 5 o'clock shadow and a blinding smile. 

"Oh shit! You're the…. uhuhh… that technician that I…" He clicks his fingers towards you, calling out to Miguel. Embarrassed, you stand up, expecting a scolding. 

It doesn't come. Miguel says your name, and it surprises you. 

"They're not usually on this floor, though. Lab A118, right?" He turns to you, and you nod slowly. How… how does he know that? You can count the amount of times you've spoken to Miguel one-on-one on a single hand, and yet he can remember which lab you work in? There were dozens of labs, triple the amount of technicians, and even if he did-

" Great . You can tell Miguel it's a brilliant plan," Peter beams. 

"Uhhh…." Not knowing what to say, you fiddle with the pliers in hand. 

"You don't... You don't have to answer that."

"...she does if she thinks it's good, Miguel." He deadpans, and turns to you. "He'll fire you if you don't answer."

"¿ Qué carajo, Peter ? " He practically hisses. Hurriedly, he reassures you with a hand on your arm. His tone is warm, softer. " Seriously, you don't have to answer that."

Peter huffs, leading you to take a seat on the counter. And you do, as he pleads his case. 

The older man is animated, and the scene makes you laugh: Peter B in a robe and fuzzy slippers, telling a humble technician the intimate details of their mission. Miguel takes a seat next to you, thigh creeping closer to yours. You pretend not to notice, and focus on the man in front of you. 

"Our target is this freaky little guy-" 

"The Green Goblin." Miguel corrects

"Whatever. This freaky little guy from a medieval dimension. All hear ye, hear ye , and shit…. a freak with a bell on his hat and purple cape. Sounds simple enough, right?" 

"...right." Miguel answers, exasperated already. 

Peter makes the sound of a buzzer. " Wrong! His dimension is paper-based, meaning he's a slippery little shit otherwise. Doesn't adhere to our kind of physics," The man besides you prepares to interject, but is shut down by the wave of a hand. 

"More or less, Miguel, I don't care for the science - this guy is literally two-dimensional. So you ," Woosh. He makes the gesture from earlier on. "And I'll," Smack. He brings his hands together with distinct flair.

Your boss still has his brows drawn up in confusion, but something clicks for you. 

"Miguel….takes him from his blind spot," You copy the gesture, as they both watch. Miguel can see the cogs turning in your head, the little twitch of your lips and press of eyebrows. "...and you pin him down from above."

“Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I said!" He pumps his fist upwards, pulling you off the counter and into a bear hug. You're laughing, and you hear him from over your shoulder. "We stick him with a doohickey, and then he's jingling all the way back home. I'm a goddamn genius, aren't I?" 

Miguel scoffs, amused. It's a somewhat good plan, but he's even more surprised at you: half-strangled in the other man's arms, and smiling wide. 

When Peter finally releases you, with a sly middle finger to Miguel for good measure, he rushes off. He's…babbling on about how Jess is gonna love this , or something like that. 

You're left with Miguel, still on the counter, head cocked. He's looking towards the door, you think, until you meet his eyes and jump. They are a deep scarlet, framed by wispy lashes. Your boss is pretty; so, so pretty . Perhaps not the most appropriate thought, but it's all you can think about as he talks. 

"You speak Parker?" He says, and you laugh. It makes heat prickle in his chest. 

" No way, sir. I… I think that's a first for me." You put your hands up, shaking your head; the remnants of a giggle bubbling up. 

"Maybe you should be on strategy? I could… we could do with that kind of talent on the team." His face is steady, and unreadable. You swear you can see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it's hard to tell. He's rubbing at his neck, carding through the hair at his nape. 

He seems… shy, for some reason. 

"I'm flattered, sir, really. But I'm happy with what I do in research."

He hums, a strange expression on his face. He's on his feet now, getting a little closer to you. The pliers are in your hand, and he picks it up in his wide palms. Your hands are soft, he thinks. 

The action makes you hold your breath, and all of a sudden you're looking at his lips. 

" This," He's perceptive, and ignores the way your gaze makes him feel; the heat of your body so close to his. "Is a bit too big for what you're trying to do. It's a bit of a struggle, right?" 

You nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady. 

He flashes a little smile and leads you back to the workstation. "The number 4, please."

You hand him the smaller attachment, shaking yourself out of a daze. Your fingers brush, but you force yourself to concentrate on what he does under the hood , so to speak. 

"A little pressure, right…" You put your hand on the spot, and he moves it with his own, ever so slightly. "... here. Pull, please."

You give a solid tug, and he pushes the tool into a junction at the wires. It comes apart much easier than before. 

"You felt it?" He says it lowly; and it makes you blink twice. " That's when you pull. When you feel that tension."

He nods, and you stutter a timid thank you. "T-Thanks, sir. You didn't have to, though."

"I wanted to. I basically built all of this, I know it like the back of my hand. So it's no trouble." From anybody else, it would sound like a brag, but from Miguel it's nothing but the truth. You're in awe of him. sometimes: everything he's built, everything he's achieved. 

"So it's your fault none of these wires are colour-coded properly?" You say with a  burst of confidence. "Why are the wires for electrics brown? And the hydro-pumps are… purple? Not blue, or–" 

It peters off when you see his expression, gaunt and serious. 

" Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to cross a line, or anything."

"Sure, I built it," He erupts into a smile, and it makes him laugh. God, you've made Miguel laugh . "But I never said I was good at it." 

It puts you at ease, and you're brave enough to give him a little smile in return. And he likes it: your eyes light up, and worry lines relax. 

"And you don't need to call me sir. It's Miguel." As if introducing himself for the first time, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and say your name. 

"I know." He says it gently, and your heart skips a beat. "You need some help with the rest?" 

Realistically, it's a one-person job; something you can do even quicker now he's shown you the right technique. But he's already so close, and you're hung up on the way he speaks to you: steady, patient, with the prettiest, plump lips you've had the pleasure of looking at. It's not helping you get over your inappropriate crush; and will absolutely feed into your delusion; but he offered , ever so sweet. 

"Yeah, Miguel." You take the tool from him and crane your head to the worktop's belly. "I think I do."

_

_

_

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[sommerregenjuniluft]

barty working at some run down convenience store and he has a thing for the pretty girl who comes in buying cigs even though she's underage

GASP llaaaaayyylllaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you always manage to. ugh. just. YES. fuck this is so them!!!!!!! you get them, you understand them. ily.

—

Barty is still leafing through his magazine a moment later when he smells the gust of lilies and citrus from the other side of the counter. He grins.

A bottle of cherry coke zero clanks down on the counter along with a smaller bottle of vodka. “And a packet of Reds.”

Barty’s grin widens. He doesn’t look up when he winces and says, “I’m gonna need to see some ID on that, sweetie.”

Nothing. Then, a crumpled bill and some coins are thrown down next to the beverages.

Barty tuts when he finally lets himself look up and into enticingly piercing green eyes. Lily’s hair is a mess today and while her gaze is bright as any day, there’s a shadow of exhaustion hanging underneath her lower lashes.

“C’mon, kid, just show me that stolen ID again and let me tell you how much prettier you are than that girl in the picture,” Barty purrs, watching as Lily’s eyes narrow. “For old times’ sake, baby.”

Lily frowns, “Just hand me the cigarettes and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, but see that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen,” he replies, propping his palms onto the counter, leaning his long torso over.

Lily sighs and she shuts her eyes and her lips thin into a line and for a moment Barty thinks he’s going to get that one rare noise again where she’s whining like the most pitiful, exhausted, sweetest little thing. The first time she’d pressed it through gritted teeth Barty was so stupid from arousal he’d slipped the cigarette package over the counter and gave her the opportunity to leave earlier than planned.

Right now Lily takes a firm breath instead. Bummer.

But Barty isn’t giving up just yet. “Y’know, you shouldn’t buy that anyways. Stuff’s bad for you.”

“And you shouldn’t browse through the Playboy on the clock,” Lily sneers.

Barty grins and ducks closer, “Why, you got something better to show me?”

Lily’ cheeks take on a lovely pink tint, her freckles flaming over her rosy skin. Sometimes she reminds Barty a little of a cute fawn.

Barty nods at the beverages on the counter, “You gonna take that to a friend?”

“No,” Lily replies, frowning. Like it would be the most irrational thing to pick up a friend and have a drink with them. She’s so cute Barty wants to eat her.

“Gonna drink that all by yourself, sweets?” he inquires, grinning.

Lily huffs, “That’s none of your business.”

Barty hums, “Let me tell you something.”

“No, thank you.”

“Why don’t I take my break now,” Barty goes on, undeterred, “and I’ll have one with you. And I’ll let you purchase the cigs. Even throw in a lighter for free ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.”

Something just shy of a whimper catches in Lily’s throat. “I just want the damn smokes,” she mutters at the ceiling. Barty thinks the pale skin of her neck would probably bruise so easily if she’d just let him.

“Brilliant, then it’s settled,” Barty concludes and sorts the money into the register before slamming it closed pointedly.

He grabs the smokes from behind him and picks out a lighter with a wolfish grin. He fishes for the keys and the ‘Be Right Back’ sign from under the counter and then ushers a grumbling Lily out the back door.

There’s an old, ratty plastic chair and Barty lets himself plop down into it with a sated sigh. Lily keeps standing in the bare space in front of him and glares, “What happened to the second chair?”

Barty shrugs, “Someone stole it.” Someone being Barty and yes, the chair fits in nicely with the rest of his balcony furniture, thanks for asking.

Lily’s mouth tightens, she opens her soda. “Well, how hospitable of you to offer me the seat then,” she snarks.

“Oh, you’re very welcome to sit,” Barty returns, purposefully widening his legs and bucking his hips. “You look exhausted, love, and I promise I’m very comfy.”

He watches Lily’s gaze harden again, the wall building up, higher, and she purses her lips. She looks like she’s one more remark away from kicking Barty out of the wobbly chair but then suddenly she moves forward. She stops right between Barty’s legs and honestly, he hadn’t hoped he’d get this far today so his brain operates a little slow. Eventually he manages lifting his hands and guiding Lily around and to sit square in his lap.

They’re so close suddenly, Lily’s hair is tickling Barty’s nose and she feels heavenly where she’s placed on top of him. Warm and soft. She smells so good and the crook of her neck is right there. Barty has to work hard to control himself when spit pools under his tongue.

Lily tugs at her sweater subconsciously. It’s a low v-neck and Barty’s in a perfect position to ogle down her cleavage. “Smokes?” Lily asks, a little impatiently.

Barty hums, licking the corner of his mouth and gnawing on his bottom lip as he unwraps the cigarettes blindly, still hungrily taking in the soft swell of Lily’s—

“Stop staring at my tits, perv.”

Barty looks up to see her glowering expression. He licks his lips again. Lily’s gaze flutters down for just a second.

When the plastic wrapper is off, Barty opens it and flicks against the bottom of the carton. He takes the one that shot out the farthest and holds it up between them. “For good luck,” he explains, “Smoke it right before your exam.” Barty doesn’t know what prompts his brain in that direction but he finds himself planting a kiss along the length of the cigarette. Then he holds it up to Lily’s lips as well. She kisses it dutifully, so good for him, right on the spot where Barty’s mouth just lingered seconds ago, none the wiser that this is not at all a step in choosing your lucky cigarette. Barty puts it back in between the others with the filter up.

He pulls out two others and first sticks one between his own and then Lily’s lips. The urge to press his fingers in deeper is there but Barty ignores it skillfully.

The lighter is procured, Barty takes Lily’s chin between his fingers to light their cigarettes at the same time and then their smoking and nursing their drinks in comfortable silence. Barty can feel Lily readjust and squirm for the duration of her first smoke but then his arm lifts off the armrest and around Lily to pull her closer. She shifts up with a quiet yelp but settles quickly after the fact, if with a warning glance when Barty’s hand stays high on the outside of her thigh.

Lily’s skirt is soft fabric today, some kind of cotton with a mesh cover on top and it’s airy and short. After the third consecutive smoke and half the empty vodka flask later Barty has three fingertips digging into the bare skin of Lily’s thigh without complaint and a semi in his jeans.

“Lily,” Barty rasps after another two smokes. The redhead is mildly slumping against Barty’s embrace, eyes lidded and looking like she’s not far from falling asleep right on top of him.

“Hm?” she makes, blowing out smoke.

“You’re not feeling too well with exam season coming up, huh?”

“No shit,” Lily responds.

Barty’s lips tug at the corners, “I know a way to make you feel good.”

For the first time in a while Lily tenses in his lap, eyes widening in alert. “No,” she says.

Barty rolls his eyes with a grin, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

Yet, Barty thinks. “That’s not what I was going to propose,” Barty corrects, smartly.

Lily raises her eyebrows in disbelief. God, she’s so hot when she isn’t taking Barty’s bullshit.

“I was gonna say kiss you.”

“No.”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“Only the neck.”

Lily pauses. Bingo.

Barty lifts his unoccupied hand and moves her curls over her shoulder, exposing her throat to him. He lets his fingers flutter over her pulse point feather light. “Just gonna kiss your neck a bit and make you feel good.”

“Barty.”

“Gonna make you feel good, I promise,” he mumbles, gambling.

A sigh, then a barely there whisper, “Fine.”

Barty’s breath hitches and then he leans in and lets his tongue out flat to lick a long stripe up Lily’s pretty neck with a groan. He closes his lips around the skin and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, just behind her ear. Lily shudders in his lap and when Barty pants another breathy noise against her skin, he hears her moan quietly as well.

Lily tastes heavenly, like raspberry and lime, and clean and flowery. He licks and kisses and sucks and makes out with Lily’s neck, gripping her thigh so far up it’s nearly ass and getting increasingly harder the more she melts into him and the louder she gets.

Lastly Barty makes the mistakes of sucking too hard and pulling Lily from her trance so that she promptly extracts herself with a hiss. Her lips are bitten red and her eyes are wide and dewy as she stares at Barty in shock, cheeks flushed and Barty would literally sell all his organs to know what Lily is thinking right now.

Eventually she stutters her way through arguing why she has to leave now and Barty nods dutifully, still high off of the taste of Lily on his tongue, before helping her up and opening the door for her. Like a gentleman. As soon as her back is turned he cups and adjusts himself in his pants.

When they come back into the store there’s a small queue lined up outside and Barty smirks when he sees Lily blushing deeper.

Barty leans down to her ear from behind, “Well then, sweets, see you soon.” He presses the lighter into her palm and then steps past her to unlock the door for the costumers.

Lily responds something unintelligible under her breath and then rushes out after the people waiting have stepped inside.

On the sidewalk Lily turns and searches for Barty through the window. When their gazes lock she holds up the hand with the lighter and mouths, “Bambi?!”

Barty simply winks at her.

[milliesdiary]

What if you are Jace's sister and he realizes you are in love with Aemond (and he also finds out that you two have been having premarital sex) which causes a fight so you go to Aemond for comfort and he soothes you

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐖

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader, targcest, mentions of sex. for some context: reader is daemon’s bastard child who rhaenyra welcomed as a part of the family. yes, aemond is a hypocrite :/ we still love him tho!! 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for awhile because i hate it. im going to be working on commissions for a bit though, so i decided to post it anyway to keep you guys fed :) please reblog and comment with your feedback. it means the world to me and keeps me motivated! ♡

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃."

Those were Jace’s words the second you walked into the dining room for breakfast. They take you aback, shock you into a frozen stupor. 

You and your family have been in King’s Landing for the past few weeks, trying to set aside their differences with the Greens and do their best to reconcile. It has been rough for your younger brothers, though you have been having a brilliant time. 

You and Helaena spend plenty of time together, Alicent treats you kindly, and Aegon leaves you alone. And Aemond? Well... you and Aemond are closer than most in terms of relationships. 

But that’s a story for another day. 

No one else is in the room thankfully — Luke wakes up later in the day, Helaena is presumably outside catching bugs, and your mother is probably off at a meeting with the court — so it’s just you, your younger brother, and the few servants that set the table. 

“What?”

Jace gives you an unimpressed look; his chestnut-brown eyes are slightly narrowed, lips melded into a frown. “You love Aemond,” he repeats. 

Your heart nearly stops when he says it, and you’re instantly terrified you’ve been caught. It would appear that misfortune has a tendency of catching you off guard. You honestly don’t know what to say. 

“...That is quite an accusation,” you try to deadpan. That heated expression of his is chilling; you invite him to sit next to you in hopes of extinguishing it. “Why don’t you just sit down and eat?”

Jace isn’t deterred. He holds his head high and keeps his voice stern; a trait he has undoubtedly learned from your mother. “You told me a couple moons ago that you had no affections for him.”

Oh, Gods. You don’t really want to sit here and listen to him complain about how much of a burden you are from rejecting all of your parents’ attempts at arranging a marriage. For hating every single man they tried to set you up with. You scold yourself more than enough. 

“I know what I said. And I mean it. I do not love him, Jace.” You let out a nervous laugh, trying to come across as naïve. The servants are staring now. “What has brought this on?” 

“You must think of me as a fool.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you acting so innocent?” 

“I don’t love him, Jacaerys. I swear it.” A bitter lie. 

For a fleeting moment, you think you’ve won; your brother stands next to the table without saying a word, his mouth clamped shut as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

And then he drops the bomb. 

“I know you have been seeing each other,” Jace says. It doesn’t come out as a question; it’s a statement. “Stealing each other away in the night.”

Your heart drops in a single second. How does he...? 

For these past few weeks, you thought you were being careful. Undetected. There was never anyone around when you slipped through the dark halls of the Red Keep every night and sidled up to Aemond’s door. Not a single voice to stop you as Aemond tugged you into his room and spoke High Valyrian in your ear as he undressed you, as he kissed you senseless, fucked you senseless. It was a dangerous game, of course — but you never actually expected to get caught. 

“…Where did you hear that?”  

“A kingsguard told me that you parted from his company last night.” Jace’s mouth twists into a disgusted frown. He hesitates, almost like he physically can’t say what comes next. “...From his chambers.”

In that moment, you knew it was over. The gist was up. 

“Jace…”

“Tell me it isn’t true.” 

And that’s the thing: you can’t say you don’t love Aemond, because it would be the furthest thing from the truth. Your hands fall to your lap and you fist your hands in the skirt of your dress, begging for courage. 

“Don’t tell mother.” 

Your response — shameful and pleading — speaks volumes. It makes Jace’s skin boil; he had been praying that the knight was wrong. And that hope he clung to so religiously? It’s gone. You can feel the symptoms of a dispute brewing: sweaty hands, agitated eyes, labored breathing. Tension hangs over you like a dark cloud and refuses to dissipate. 

“Why?” Jace looks disgusted, repulsed even. It sparks a flame inside you. “You saw his true colors that night. All of us did. Baela, Rhaena. Luke.”

You know what he’s referring to. It is a memory that you want to squeeze the life out of. 

“I thought we talked about you sorting out your priorities,” he continues. “What self-respecting daughter of the future Queen runs off and beds whoever she likes without a marriage proposal?” 

Yes, perhaps your growing annoyance is misplaced. Your brother wants the best for you, and it’s only natural that he would have his reservations about Aemond.

But he doesn’t know the man like you do; he hasn’t seen his hidden softness.

Sometimes people lose their ability to be recognized when they are joyful — in a pleasant way, of course. Aemond is one of those people. You’ve seen him smile once before. Truly smile. It was not sly, snarky, or coy; for once, it was the sincere kind. You wished he would do it more. It was incredibly beautiful.

If only Jace could have experienced it.

“Don’t speak about him like that,” you mumble. 

"I won't restrain myself to appease your ignorance.” 

Inhaling sharply, you take a seat at the table and busy yourself by playing with the napkin beside your plate. It’s a feeble attempt at controlling your rising panic. Jace must think you’re acting a bit too calm, because he seems to bristle at your alleged indifference. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. Really, I am. I was just scared—“

“You lied.” 

“It was a white lie. No harm was meant to come from it.”

Jace fixes you with a firm scowl. “A white lie? A white lie? Meddling with our uncle who you are not betrothed to is not something that just happens.”

“You are blowing this out of proportion. I did it to keep you from getting upset and—“

“This is not just about the lie itself,” Jace huffs. 

“Then what is it?”

“You believed I wasn't worth your honesty.” 

Your gut tightens at his remark — you know he’s right and that he deserves to be informed of such things. Finding out that someone you care for is hiding something this important is a rude awakening. 

But you can’t stop. 

“I knew you would act like this,” you retort. Raising your voice wasn’t planned, but it happens anyway. It feels like your veins are being ripped to bits as the telltale marks of wrath sweep throughout your body. “I will do you a favor next time and not tell you anything at all.” 

“Or you could not encourage him,” Jace spits out. “You think that he does not act like his brother, Aegon? For all you know, he could be gallivanting with a servant every second he is not with you.” 

Your jaw tightens so firmly that it seems to lock in place. You’re pissed now. “Aemond is not like that.” 

“When you see him next, you can tell him to jump in the damn Dragonpit,” Jace continues. You aren’t used to hearing such crude language from him; it has you reeling. “Perhaps he’ll do that after he’s done fucking you.”

Something inside you bursts. Agonizingly. Ferociously. It's a jolt to your system that throws everything off-kilter. It is a painful fury that splits you in two. 

You slam your palms down on the table and rise in your chair; you're astonished the wood doesn't split with the force of it. The plates and forks clatter, and Jace almost jumps. The servants bustling around you certainly do. 

Your brother has some nerve. You want to spit foul names in his face. Wish to seize him by the collar and force him to kneel before your feet, because why? Why can’t you be with who you want? First it was Daemon who denied that you ever get betrothed to Aemond. Then it was your mother, and now it’s him. 

“I do not need protecting, Jace!” Your chest is rising and falling faster now, like the erratic pull of the tides. It feels like there is so much bottled up energy inside of you that you could scream, erupt, or break something … you need to break something. You choose his spirit. “I don’t need you at all!” 

Jace’s expression falls then. Along with it goes your anger. 

His gaze flits to the ground for a second — as if the stone is a safe haven from your wrath — and you’re about to apologize when he lifts his chin to glare daggers at you. 

“I get it now,” Jace laughs bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You would do anything to be held by him. Ceasing to care about who he might hurt next and ignoring his callousness. You see only what you want.”

In his rage, Jace’s lips spew poison from deep in his chest, a dark place that you didn't even know he had.

“You make me wonder how I ended up with a delusional lunatic for a sister.“

Dead silence.

The two of you are just staring at each other now. Jace braces himself when you step away from your seat; he looks like he’s expecting you to slap him, like he’s preparing himself for the sting. 

And as much as you would like to do it, you just walk away.

You’re not even sure if Jace tries to stop you at first. Not sure if a servant tries to tries to grab you by the arm. You are running on pure adrenaline, pure buzzing energy, blood pumping like a battle cry in both eardrums. 

It takes until you’re exiting through the giant wooden doors to hear Jace yelling your name — and you loathe how worried he sounds, detest it — and then you’re practically running through the stone hallways. 

You want to go to bed. Shut everyone out and sleep until you awaken in a different world: one where you are not expected to get married to certain people, where your brother doesn’t expect you to be a person you can’t, and the 'losing an eye’ thing never happened, and … and it’s just you, Aemond, wrapped up in the sheets of your mattress. That’s all. 

The world is just cruel. 

Every step echoes as you make a beeline for your room. Tears slip down your cheeks and your fists quake; everything hurts. Emotionally, at least. You’re too worn out, too aggravated, too... mad? Hell, you’re not even sure if you’re still mad. The emotion that rips you apart right now feels more like an indigo-drenched sadness than a red-hot anger. 

It’s a strange, crushing feeling that has you stifling a sob while rounding a corner. 

But, as if the universe hates you, you catch a glimpse of that ethereal man — the fucking bane of your existence — walking down the same hallway. His back is to you, long white hair swishing with every stride he takes, and his posture is strong. 

You don’t want to ruin his day. Spoil the mood, or show how weak you can be.

You call out his name anyway, because there’s only one thing you can think of in this moment. A mantra:

I need you right now, My Prince.

I need you to truly look at me and understand me.

Aemond, I need you to see me.

The man turns then. He says your name, and you, who denied loving him, practically run and throw yourself into his arms. 

For a moment, Aemond doesn’t move a muscle; he’s confused, at a total loss. But then his palms slowly come down to your waist, supporting your body as he allows you to sniffle into his tunic. 

He doesn’t speak for awhile. Instead, he just looks down at you.

Your cheeks are dressed in tears that resemble droplets of honey. Your gardenia scented hair, pressed against his chest, is beautiful. He discovers an unexpected heaven amidst your grief. 

“He doesn’t want us to be together,” you try to whisper, but the words falter and trickle pitifully out of your mouth. They lack the power that you so urgently need. 

At first, Aemond is silent. He has no idea what you’re talking about; and then it clicks. Jace. 

Aemond has never been one to comfort others. You don’t really expect him to do much, honestly. But when he decides to speak, his tone is gentle and holds no judgment. “Your dear brother has found out about our arrangement, I presume.” 

You pull away slightly to stare up at Aemond. You drink in every plane of his face; those high cheekbones, his pretty lips, the silver hair that brushes the ridge of his jaw and the scar he hides. You want to absorb all of him. 

Aemond’s hands come to rest on your elbows, and then they slide all the way down your arms until he’s tenderly holding you by the wrists. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before speaking more resolutely. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No — No, of course not,” you sniffle. Jace could be stubborn and fierce, but he would never lay a hand on you. “He was just being a brat. We got into an argument and he was ... he was mean.”

Aemond hums at that. “It must not have been too bad then. He is all bark and no bite,” he muses softly. Every syllable is gentle, each vowel soothing in its own right. He’s calm somehow.

It’s in these moments that you wish so deeply you could be like Aemond. Wish that you could stand your ground, despite wanting to run away. Wish that you could hold the barbs of someone’s anger in your palm and not get stung; not allow the sharp edges to slice under your skin and leave streams of blood in its wake. 

But you are not strong like him. 

With bated breath, you move to embrace Aemond once more, arms wrapping around his middle as you press your nose into the leather of his tunic. 

It doesn’t last long. 

Aemond leans into you, and then with both hands on your shoulders, gently tugs you away from his chest. You glance at him in confusion, and meet his gaze with an infantile glare. 

For a second you think he doesn’t want to hug you. That he’s about to chide you for being a big baby, for getting in a fight with your sibling and blowing things out of proportion. 

But then you quickly realize that he just wants to see your face. 

The truth is, Aemond doesn’t want you to hide in his arms. He doesn’t want you to bury your head into his chest and conceal your pain, or for you to dig your face into his clothes until each cheek is dry and you look composed again. 

He wants you to share every emotion with him openly, no matter how warped or ugly or bruised. 

Perhaps that’s what love is; recognizing someone's greatest vulnerability and still choosing to love them. 

It’s hard to place what emotion rests itself in Aemond’s eye after that, but whatever it is almost has you numb to how he’s holding both of your hands in his own. That is, until he trails a thumb over your knuckles. 

“Convince Jace, please,” you beg once more. The edges of your mouth start to turn downwards as you tear up again, and Aemond’s eye follows; he takes in your grief intently, and you are fully conscious of that fact. “Please. Show him you are worthy of my hand.” 

There’s a sort of surprise that swirls in his lilac gaze; however, his lips are in a straight line, his face nothing else but cold, and you can picture the war that rages inside his head. 

“I bear a hatred that could draw blood,” Aemond finally murmurs. “Those who do not deserve to be forgiven will not know my mercy. I will not betray my feelings to please others.”

“Try, Aemond. Please. If not for you and your sanity, do it for me.”

Aemond can only stare at you — his only love, his life, his breath of fresh air. The woman who he hopes will be his future wife despite your family’s distaste. He inhales deeply, chest rising and flattening the creases in his tunic, gaze roaming the tear-tracks on your face. And then he caves. 

But not before making a demand. 

“Do not cry, my love,” Aemond breathes. “It does not suit you.” 

And when you blink up at him so sweetly, nodding in a wordless vow, Aemond presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Then he kisses your left cheek, and the right, before slowly tracing his lips against your own. 

“Your body is mine,” He whispers into your parted mouth. “And I will find a way to claim it. They will have no choice but to accept me.” 

Aemond is a professional at pressing your buttons. It’d be a lie if you said it didn’t excite you; quickly, you capture his lips into a searing kiss. He returns the favor, knowing damn well that you want him, and yet he doesn’t tease in between kisses. He chooses tenderness over taunts just this once. 

The air is filled with a sentence unsaid: 

Touch my soul with warm words, and I shall do whatever you wish. 

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Sixteen: Wishful Thinking

Chapter WC: 10,811

Chapter Tags/Warnings: minor blood/wound care, major grief/mourning themes

A/N: A lot going on in this one, but I couldn’t stand to break it into two chapters. This is one of the heaviest chapters so far, but also one of the sweetest. Hopefully that makes up for it somewhat!

And just getting it out now that I don’t plan on talking about Satine much in this fic, so please don’t set your hopes too high lol.

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

You’ve never met Duchess Satine Kryze, but she must be a beautiful and formidable woman to have such a hold on Obi-Wan after all these years.

He's always spoken of her with the utmost respect and detachment, but you can sense the truth that lies beneath. It doesn’t surprise you that he's the one who has been sent to Mandalore in the wake of the attack on a Republic cruiser by a Mandalorian saboteur, leaving you in command of the 212th.

It does, however, annoy you.

Though, not in the way you expect. In your youth, you were jealous of her, the thought of Obi-Wan being with another woman had caused an ugly, green-eyed monster to rear its head within you. As time has passed, and especially since your conversation in the gardens, that feeling has faded. Replaced by something else entirely.

Concern.

You've had a bad feeling about the situation on Mandalore ever since Obi-Wan told you about his assignment, and it's one that's been difficult to let go of. Obi-Wan is a good man, an excellent General, a brilliant tactician and negotiator. But as his history with the Duchess, and yourself, has proven, his ability to remain objective when it comes to the safety and welfare of those close to him is sorely lacking.

Your worry is compounded by the fact that the 212th is being called into action. A force of Separatist droids has sprouted up like weeds on Null, a short jump from Mandalore, and the Third Army is being sent to deal with them. As a Jedi, you can't ignore the call to arms, but as a friend, you're hesitant to leave Obi-Wan without the support of the 212th. You can only hope that he will have the clarity of mind to focus on the bigger picture, rather than the smaller, more personal details.

Not that you were unfamiliar with such distractions.

Null is a lush planet, filled with dense tropical forests and dramatic mountain ranges. It's also the home of one of Dooku's many retreats, an extravagant manor built into the side of a mountain, with a sprawling view of the valley and city below. A city that's now crawling with battle droids. An orbital bombardment is out of the question, and the Separatist defenses are proving difficult to penetrate.

So, instead of a quick, clean victory, it's going to be a messy, bloody slog.

You sigh and look down at the tactical display, your brow furrowed. You'd woken early this morning, arriving to the strategy room long before everyone else, and you've spent the past few hours pouring over the reports, trying to come up with a plan of attack. And a plan for how you can get inside the castle and deal with Dooku once and for all.

Yaddle's message is still fresh in your mind, her voice still ringing in your ears. Her words are still etched into your heart. You know what you have to do, and the temptation to do so is growing with each passing day. With each new casualty. With each loss.

But there's still the war to contend with, as well as the possibility of failure. If you attempt to go after Dooku and fail, if he gets the upper hand and kills you, the galaxy will lose a Jedi Master. And if you manage to kill him and survive, you will lose the moral high ground. The Order could brand you a murderer, and that would spell the end for your career, your life, and your friendships. There would be no going back.

No, it's not worth the risk.

At least, not yet.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the door slide open behind you, nor do you hear the footsteps approaching. It isn't until Rex clears his throat that you realize he's standing behind you.

You don’t startle, and it should surprise you, but it doesn’t. You're too used to Rex's presence by now, the warmth of his energy in the Force as familiar as the sun rising over Coruscant each morning, and the normal tension that comes with someone stepping into your space is absent. Instead, a sense of calm washes over you. 

Your shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You don't turn around, not yet. You continue staring at the hologram of the valley, letting the feeling settle in.

It's strange. You'd expected this closeness between the two of you to fade once you'd returned to Coruscant. But it hasn't. If anything, it's grown stronger, and it's no longer something that only occurs in the safety of an empty meadow or a darkened hallway, away from the prying eyes of the Jedi Council and the GAR. Now, it's everywhere. In every moment. No matter what the two of you are doing.

You've tried not to read too much into it, tried not to dwell on the implications. But deep down, you know the truth. Rex isn't just a distraction. He's something else, something more.

But you're not ready to admit that. Not yet.

But that doesn't mean that you're not happy to see him.

"Good morning, Rex," you greet him, a hint of amusement in your tone, and you move your fingers across the display, changing the angle of the hologram. "Come to save me from myself?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asks. His voice is low, his tone teasing. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Don't tell me you were trying to sneak up on me," you tease, glancing over your shoulder and giving him a wry smile.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "I haven't forgotten what happened the last time I tried."

You smirk, remembering the incident on Felucia. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were holding him at the end of your blade, your eyes locked on his. There's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes now, but the memory still stings. You can still see mark on his pauldron under the layers of blue paint, a reminder of your recklessness, your paranoia.

"Neither have I," you mutter, and then you turn back to the hologram, tilting your head and studying the display. "What brings you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I’m always the first one here," Rex says. He steps around to the side of the holotable, leaning against the edge. His head tilts as he regards you, his hands behind his back, and his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I've had a lot on my mind," you admit with a sigh.

A slight frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the table between the two of you, before returning to yours.

"Anything I can help with?" he offers. "Or, are you just trying to show the rest of us up by coming up with the perfect plan before anyone else arrives?"

You chuckle and shake your head, the corner of your mouth turning upwards. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid."

"I see," he replies, and a hint of disappointment flashes across his face, before vanishing. He nods at the holotable, and then, hesitates. "Do you...do you want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help. Clear your head."

You pause, considering his offer, and then, decide against it. You can't bring yourself to tell him about Yaddle, about what she said, not yet. Not when the wound is still so raw, so fresh. And while Rex is an exceptional listener, and you know he would offer his full support, you're not ready. Not for the conversation that will inevitably follow. 

So, instead, you give him a grateful smile and shake your head. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

"Alright," he concedes, though he looks unconvinced. 

You're grateful for it. You appreciate his understanding, his willingness to respect your boundaries. It's a relief, really. There's no awkwardness or discomfort. It's natural. Easy. And that's something you've rarely found outside the Jedi Order. Or inside it.

"Well, hopefully this helps, then." 

Rex moves his hand from behind his back and reveals a paper cup with a lid. Steam wafts from the opening, and you immediately recognize the scent of fresh caf. You perk up, your eyes widening.

"Is that...?"

"Freshly brewed?" he finishes as he sets it on the holotable in front of you. "Yep."

“For me?” you ask, even as you reach for it, wrapping your hands around the cup and reveling in the heat. You lift the cup to your nose and inhale deeply, the smell sending a shiver down your spine. “Really?”

Rex chuckles and shrugs, lifting up his own cup to his mouth. “Oh, well I was going to give it to Cody, but…”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, and he smirks before taking a sip, the teasing glint in his eyes telling you he's enjoying your reaction. You roll your eyes, and a soft laugh escapes your lips, your cheeks warming.

“But you like me more?” you challenge, and Rex snorts, nearly spilling his caf. He covers his mouth and swallows hard, shaking his head at you as you raise an eyebrow at him. "That's what you're going to say, right?"

"Yeah," he rasps, clearing his throat. He sets his cup on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sure. That."

"Good," you say, smiling sweetly at him. You raise your cup to him in a salute. "Because I like you more than Cody, too."

“I heard that.” 

You both straighten and turn as Cody strides into the room, a datapad in his hand, and the two of you exchange a sheepish look. You feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach, and Rex lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

Cody raises his eyebrow as he walks around the holotable, glancing between the two of you. He looks like he's about to say something, but then shakes his head, his expression softening, and he turns to the display.

"What are we looking at?" he asks.

"A nest," Rex replies, his voice gruff, and he crosses his arms over his chest, any trace of amusement gone.

You're surprised at his sudden change in demeanor, and a part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the other part, the one that's still slightly worried about being caught fraternizing, even if it's Cody, stops you. Instead, you nudge Rex with your elbow, giving him one last smile before you go over to stand beside the commander.

As you move, you take the first sip of your caf. You brace yourself for the bitter taste, but it doesn’t come. In fact, it tastes almost exactly like how you prefer to prepare it for yourself. You can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes you, and you eagerly take another sip.

Rex watches you from the corner of his eye, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, before turning back to the display.

Cody doesn't miss the exchange. His eyebrows raise, a curious look on his face, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he points to the map on the holotable.

"So, a nest, huh?" he asks. "And what kind of bird are we hunting?"

"A Krayt dragon," Rex says, and you snort, earning a glare from the captain. He huffs and continues, "A squadron of vulture droids, most likely from Count Dooku's estate, launched an attack on the nearby city and decimated the local forces. They're holed up in the surrounding mountains, and they're not giving up easily."

"Dooku's estate, you said," Cody repeats, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "We'll have to deal with that later."

"Yes, we will," you mutter. He hums in return, and the three of you stand in silence, studying the display. The battle droids are well fortified, their numbers impressive, and you have a feeling that it's going to be a difficult fight.

You take another sip of your caf, savoring the rich flavor, and the caffeine courses through your veins, sending a jolt of energy through your body. It's enough to wake you up and sharpen your focus, and you can't help but smile. You look over at Rex and nod, mouthing a silent 'thank you'.

He ducks his head and turns away, but you can see the color rising in his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He lifts his hand to his face, scratching the back of his head, and you have to stifle a laugh.

The doors slide open, and Anakin and the rest of the battalion's commanding officers file in, filling the room with a low murmur of voices. As they take their places around the holotable, Rex ends up next to you again. 

"You're welcome," he murmurs, his mouth barely moving. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the map, but his arm brushes against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hide your smile behind your cup, warmth blooming in your chest, and you take a moment to bask in the sensation before you shift, putting some distance between the two of you. The last thing you need is for someone else to notice the tension between the two of you, especially now that the room is full.

You're not ready to explain this...whatever it is, to anyone.

"Alright, everyone," Anakin calls, clapping his hands together. He steps forward and leans over the holotable, examining the map. "Let's get started."

The meeting passes quickly, and before long, the two of you are walking side by side through the corridors toward the hangar bay. The troops have already begun boarding the transport ships, and the hum of engines fills the air. Rex is at ease, his stride relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back. You, on the other hand, are anything but.

Your feet are dragging, a heaviness weighing on your shoulders that grows with every step. You're exhausted, and the thought of another battle, another confrontation, makes you want to curl up and sleep for days. The stress is beginning to wear on you, and the lack of a good night's sleep isn't helping. 

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is your chance. That this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. To finally confront Dooku.

"So," Rex begins slowly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any way I can convince you not to go on this mission?"

You huff a laugh, and you shake your head. "I wish."

"I had a feeling," he sighs, and his gaze returns to the corridor ahead. "You have that look on your face. Like you're ready to jump out of an airlock."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," he tells you. He stops, turning to face you, and he rests his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes gently, and you find yourself leaning into it, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your collarbone as he leans forward, his gaze softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him, and a half-smile tugs at your lips. "Don't worry about me."

"You say that," he chuckles, his tone rueful, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. His eyes search yours, and the humor fades. "But I do. And I know something's wrong."

"I..." You start, but stop, biting your lip. You take a deep breath and look away, your heart hammering in your chest. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me the truth," he says gently. He tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze. "What's going on? Are you...is it the nightmares?"

"It's not that," you sigh, and you rub the back of your neck, your eyes drifting towards the floor. 

You don't want to lie to him, not anymore, but you're not sure what to say. The truth is, it's more than just the nightmares. It's everything. The war, the Order, your past, your future. You've been struggling with it all, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together. To maintain control. To hide your emotions. To ignore the growing desire for justice, vengeance, satisfaction. 

You let out a shaky breath and shake your head. "It's just...a lot."

"Yeah," he nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and then clears his throat. "Can I...is there anything I can do?"

"Not this time," you answer, a sad smile on your face. "But thank you."

"Alright," he sighs, resigned. Rex drops his hand and looks around, taking in the bustle of the hangar bay. His eyes linger on the transport ships, a distant look on his face. "You think we have a chance?"

"At taking out the vulture droids or taking out Dooku?" you ask, and his gaze returns to you. He offers you a wry grin.

"Either. Both."

You shrug. "I think we'll be fine. As long as we stick to the plan and work together, we should have no problem destroying the droids. As for Dooku..."

"Yeah, that's the hard part, isn't it?" he chuckles, and you nod, the corner of your mouth pulling into a small smile.

"It is," you agree. "But with a little luck, we might be able to capture him."

"Right," he says, rolling his eyes. "Luck."

"Well, we have to stay positive, don't we?" you tease, nudging his shoulder. He chuckles and shakes his head, and the two of you share a smile. It fades quickly, however, replaced by a somber expression.

He glances around, making sure no one's paying attention, before stepping closer. His gaze meets yours, and there's a seriousness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating, before trying again.

"What would you do if we did?" he asks quietly. "If we had him."

"I..." you start, but then trail off, considering the question. You don't have an answer. Not one you can speak aloud. There are so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings, swirling inside you, and it's hard to separate them. To pick out the right ones. The good ones. The ones that matter.

But underneath all of that, buried beneath the surface, is something else. A burning desire for revenge. For justice. And it's a desire that you're struggling to contain, to control. Every day, it grows stronger, demanding release, demanding action And every day, you deny it. Ignore it. Push it down. But it never goes away. Never disappears.

And it's becoming harder and harder to keep it in check.

Now, you're afraid that if you do catch Dooku, you won't be able to hold back. That you'll lash out and do something terrible, something unforgivable.

You've never admitted that to anyone, not even Obi-Wan. You know he's under the impression that you've released most of the darkest parts of yourself into the Force, but that's far from the truth. You can't help it. You're only human, after all. 

And like any other human, you're capable of horrible, terrible, things. You know that better than most.

 But Rex...he might understand. He's seen first-hand what Dooku is capable of, the pain he's caused. If anyone could understand, it would be him.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and he stares back, his expression solemn, his brow furrowed. He doesn't pressure you, doesn't push, just waits patiently, giving you time.

"I don't know," you finally answer, and the lie burns your tongue, the words coming out thick and heavy. You swallow hard and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You can tell me," he says softly. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

There's an awkward silence between the two of you, and you stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. You can sense his eyes on you, and the intensity makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and a chill runs down your spine. You cross your arms, rubbing your palms up and down your sleeves.

"Just..." 

You take a shaky breath and raise your head, meeting his gaze. His expression is gentle, kind, and it helps. It gives you the courage to continue.

"Just stay close to me, okay?" you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat and force a smile, and it hurts. Everything hurts. Your chest is tight, your throat dry. "Please."

Rex's frown deepens, and he opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Rex! Where are you? We're ready to launch!"

He sighs and looks away, running a hand over his head. "I gotta go."

"I know," you tell him, swallowing past the lump your throat. You take a step forward and reach for him, resting your hand on his arm. "Be careful out there, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

He scoffs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looks down at you. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you," you tease.

"I'm always careful," he retorts, and the two of you exchange a knowing look. You squeeze his arm and let go, stepping back, and his eyes linger on yours.

"Rex!" the voice calls again, more insistent.

"Go," you say. "Before Fives comes looking for you."

Rex smirks, and then gives you a nod. He turns and strides down the hall, and you watch him go, your heart aching, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

You can't name it, can't put a word to it. It's not quite worry, not quite fear, not quite sadness. But it's all of those things, and more. A feeling of loss, maybe. Or regret. Or guilt.

Rex reaches the end of the corridor, and he turns, glancing back at you. You give him a small wave, forcing a smile, and his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours. Then, he turns, and he's gone.

You stand there, rooted to the spot, staring after him.

Dread.

The feeling is dread.

Null, 21 BBY

An explosion rattles the ground beneath your feet, and you dive for cover, the deafening sound of blaster fire echoing around you. You roll behind a pile of rubble and lean against the stone, catching your breath. Across the dust-filled courtyard, Rex is hunkered down behind a broken statue, his blasters in his hands.

You lock eyes with him and he nods, holding up his hand, the signal to wait. You nod back and turn, peering around the edge of the stones, looking for an opening. The courtyard is crawling with battle droids, their laser fire tearing through the air, and it's impossible to tell where the droids end and the Republic troops begin.

A clone runs past, his armor streaked with blood, and a battle droid lunges out of the smoke, grabbing him. You reach out, calling upon the Force, and the droid flies through the air, slamming into a wall. The clone stares at you, and then nods, rushing back into the fray.

Another explosion rocks the courtyard, and the ground trembles, chunks of stone and dirt falling from the sky. You grit your teeth and push off the ground, leaping to the top of the rubble, your lightsabers igniting. A storm of bolts comes flying at you, and you deflect them, sending them back at the droids.

"General!"

You glance over your shoulder, and a squad of clones come running towards you, their weapons raised. They're led by Waxer, and they're covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unharmed.

"Waxer, nice of you to finally join us," you shout, and the clones laugh, ducking behind the debris.

"Well, we couldn't leave our General hanging, now could we?" he retorts. He peers around the stones, scanning the courtyard, and then looks back at you. "Commander said you were having a rough time, thought we could give you a hand."

"How kind of him," you deadpan. You jump off the rocks, landing next to the clones, and you take a deep breath, letting the Force flow through you. Your skin tingles, and your muscles tense. The world around you slows to a standstill as your heart beats faster, pounding against your chest. You can see every detail, every movement, every particle.

"Any sign of Dooku?" Waxer asks.

You grit your teeth. The Force ripples around you, telling you what you already suspected from the moment you landed on Null. Dooku is gone, if he ever was here. Another lie. Another dead end. Another wasted opportunity.

"He's not here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," you grunt, and everything comes rushing back. The sound, the smell, the taste of smoke and blood and sweat. It's overwhelming, but it's familiar, and your senses adjust quickly, settling back into their normal rhythm. "Looks like this is a vacation home, not a military base."

"Great," he sighs. He raises his blaster and fires, taking out a pair of battle droids before ducking back behind cover. "Well, at least the vultures are taken care of."

"That's one good thing, I guess." You crouch beside him, your brow furrowed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. "Now, we just have to clean up this mess."

Rex darts across the courtyard, his blasters firing, and a stream of red light follows his movements. He slides to a stop beside you, and he leans against the rubble, his chest heaving. His helmet tilts towards you, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good to see you, General," he pants.

"You, too," you reply, giving him a tired smile.

"Did we miss anything?"

"Not really," Waxer tells him. "We were just about to start mopping up."

The three of you look over at the troopers now pouring into the courtyard in a sea of blue and orange, their numbers quickly overwhelming the droids. It's a chaotic scene, with blaster bolts flying through the air and smoke filling the space, but the tide has clearly turned in the Republic's favor.

"Come on, then," you say, and you rise, stretching. Your muscles ache, and your knees protest, but you ignore them. "Let's get this done."

You turn and lead the way, jumping into the fray.  Within minutes, the last of the battle droids fall, their smoking corpses littering the ground. You stand in the middle of the carnage, surveying the damage. There are scorch marks everywhere, bodies strewn across the stones, pieces of broken droids scattered about.

It's a mess, but it could have been worse.

Much worse.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You deactivate your lightsabers and tuck them into your belt, a weary smile on your face. It's over. Finally. You'd been fighting for hours, and you're ready to rest.

"Good work, everyone," you call out, raising your voice so it can be heard above the din. "I think we're done here."

There's a loud cheer, and the troops start gathering their gear, cleaning up the battlefield. Rex approaches you, and the two of you stand together, watching the men work.

Rex lets out a loud sigh, and he takes his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his brow. His blond hair is matted with dirt, and his face is covered in grime. He glances over at you, and his eyes crinkle with a tired smile.

"Well, that was a fun morning," he chuckles, and the clones in the near vicinity laugh at the quip. Waxer gives him a good-natured slap on the back as he walks by, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," you retort, and his smile widens.

He turns and gestures to the castle looming in the distance. "Do we still want to take a look around?"

"We might as well," you say, shrugging. "It's not like we're going to get a chance like this again."

Rex nods and pulls out his commlink, tapping a button. A voice crackles to life, and he begins issuing orders, the clones splitting off into teams and heading towards the estate. He watches them go, and then he looks over at you, nodding.

"Ready when you are."

You take a deep breath and begin walking, Rex falling into step beside you. The estate is sprawling, a series of towers and spires rising up from the valley floor. It's surrounded by a high stone wall, and you can see turrets peeking out from the battlements. You've never seen a more dreary, impenetrable fortress.

The main doors are open, and a squad is standing guard, their weapons raised. As you draw nearer to the entrance, a sense of anticipation settles over you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

Your hand drifts towards your lightsaber, and your fingers tighten around the hilt. You can sense something, but you can't put your finger on it. An energy, an electricity, a presence, but it's faint, just out of reach. Something inside you wants to run, either away or toward, and you can't tell which.

You hear a grunt beside you, and you glance at Rex. His face is pinched, and for the first time you notice him limping, his left leg dragging a bit behind his right. Concern flares inside you, and you stop, turning towards him.

"You're hurt," you accuse, and his eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

"I'm fine," he insists, but his voice is strained, and the pain is clear in his eyes. You shake your head and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop. Whatever is behind those doors can wait.

"Rex, what's wrong?" you ask, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"Just a little bruised," he admits. 

You arch an eyebrow, gesturing to his leg. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," he insists. "I'll be fine."

"Uh huh," you murmur. You step closer and lean forward into his space, looking into his eyes. He avoids your gaze, his cheeks reddening, and you narrow your eyes, sensing the truth. "Rex."

"What?" he grumbles.

"You should see a medic."

"I will," he promises, and his eyes dart over to the others, before returning to yours. "Later."

"Liar," you grin, and his lips twitch. You roll your eyes.

The two of you watch as the troopers file into the estate, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, he lets out a breath and looks at you, the tension in his body easing. You're grateful for the quiet, the stillness, the opportunity to collect yourself.

But it's also a relief to have him all to yourself, without the constant pressure of the others, the expectations and attention. And you can tell he feels the same.

"I am a liar," he admits sheepishly. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, a shy smile spreading across his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," you tease, and his grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Sit down. I'll take a look at it."

"You don't have to," he starts, but you shake your head, cutting him off.

"No arguing. Sit."

Rex grumbles but does as you say, letting you lead him over to the half-shattered fountain in the center of the courtyard, the water long gone. He lowers himself to the ground, hissing in pain, and you kneel beside him. Together, you remove the armor from his leg, setting it aside. The fabric of his bodysuit is torn, and underneath is a nasty-looking gash, a mixture of dirt and dried blood caking his skin.

You bite your lip, worry bubbling inside you. You've seen worse, much worse, but there's something about seeing him hurt that makes your heart clench. You know you're being irrational, that the injury isn't serious, and that the medics will be able to treat him. Still, it hurts. To see him in pain. To feel his pain.

"It's not that bad," he mutters. He's looking down at you, his brow furrowed, and he gives you a reassuring smile. "Honest."

"Uh huh," you say, unconvinced, and he huffs a laugh. You reach out, tentatively, your hand hovering over his leg. "This might sting."

"I can handle it," he tells you. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked grin. "Probably."

You roll your eyes and move your hand closer, your fingers gently brushing the swollen skin. Rex sucks in a breath through his teeth, and you wince as you're hit with a jolt of his pain, sharp and sudden.

You breathe deep, steadying yourself, and then you press your hand fully against the wound, letting the Force flow through you into him.

You're far from adept in the healing arts, one of many weaknesses in your skill set, and you're no healer, but you can do this much. It's not a particularly complex injury. The tissue needs to be repaired, the pain reduced, and if you syphon some of your own energy, it's not as difficult as it seems. At least, that's what you tell yourself.

Still, it's not easy. The injury is larger than you thought, and the pain is intense. Rex tenses underneath your touch, his leg twitching, and you can hear his teeth grinding. His jaw is clenched so tightly, you fear his teeth might crack. You blindly reach up with your opposite hand and rest it on his knee, trying to steady him.

"Easy," you murmur. His hand settles on top of yours, your fingers intwining. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "Almost done. Just breathe."

"Right," he says, his voice strained. He lets out a shaky breath and nods. "Keep going."

You let out a breath of your own, and you continue the work, draining your energy into him. After a few more moments, the wound is closed, the pain reduced, and you withdraw your hand, pulling back the fabric to examine the newly healed skin. It's a little pink and raw, but it'll do. He'll need proper medical attention, but for now, it'll keep him on his feet.

"There," you say, and Rex lets out a soft groan, the tension in his body fading. He looks down at the wound, and he turns his leg side to side, admiring your handiwork. "Good as new."

"Wow," he breathes. "That's...impressive."

"Yeah, I'm pretty great, aren't I?" you tease.

"Yeah," he nods. His hand is still holding yours, his fingers lightly tracing your knuckles. "You are."

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and your cheeks warm, your heart skipping a beat. You swallow hard, and you give him a weak smile, trying not to read too much into his words.

"Thanks," you murmur. You let go of his hand and sit back, and he sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. You shift under his gaze, unsure of what to do, or say, and then, his expression changes, his head tilting.

"Why don't you do that more often?" he asks, and you frown, confused. He gestures to his leg. "Heal."

"Oh," you reply, just as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. You try to suppress a yawn and fail. "It's not something I like to advertise. I'd rather not burn myself out."

Rex raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. You hesitate, biting your lip. It's not something you're proud of, and it's not something you talk about often, but for some reason, you feel compelled to share.

"I'm not particularly skilled in the healing arts," you admit. You look away, your brow furrowing. "Some can draw on the Living Force, use its power to heal others. I can't."

"But you did just now," he points out carefully.

"I did," you acknowledge, and a wry smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You turn and meet his gaze. "But it took a lot out of me, and I don't mean that metaphorically. If I'm not careful, if I'm not prepared, it could kill me."

Rex's eyes widen, and a look of panic flashes across his face. His hands clench into fists, and he shakes his head, scowling.

"Don't ever do that," he orders, and you chuckle. "Seriously. Don't. Not for me."

"If I didn't, you would have been laid up in the infirmary for a week," you tell him, trying to sound casual, but your tone is anything but. Your words come out more harshly than intended, a bit more bitter. "Besides, I wanted to. You're worth it."

Rex stares at you, stunned, a flicker of something passing over his features. Surprise? Confusion? A hint of fear? You're not sure, but it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of your gut. You swallow hard, resisting the urge to look away.

"You shouldn't have," he tells you, shaking his head. "You could have-"

"But I didn't," you interrupt, and he sighs, the corners of his mouth turning down. You stand and brush the dirt and debris from your robes, clearing your throat. "And if you ever tell anyone I did that, I'll deny it. Got it?"

Rex snorts, the scowl vanishing, and slowly rises to his feet, testing his weight on his injured leg. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, his neck cracking, and then he nods. "Got it."

"Good," you huff. 

You watch as he reattaches his armor, your arms crossed over your chest. He seems to have forgotten about the estate, about the mission, his mind on other things. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes distant, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. What he's feeling. Whether or not he's upset with you. With himself.

You know you've worried him, that he's afraid of what might have happened, but you don't regret it. Not one bit. He needed your help, and you gave it. It's as simple as that. Besides, you're a Jedi, aren't you? Isn't this what the Order teaches? That compassion and generosity are the most important aspects of your duty, your life?

Still, there's a nagging voice in the back of your head, a voice telling you that what you did was selfish. That you did it for yourself, not for him. That you did it because you care about him, because you can't stand the thought of him being hurt.

And, the truth is, it is. It is selfish, it is reckless. 

You're not a healer, not really. You don't know how to channel the Living Force, how to heal the wounded, or cure the sick. You only know how to take, how to absorb the pain and suffering of others and give something of yourself in return, and you've never done more than a handful of healing sessions in your life. You're a warrior, not a physician. 

And yet, here you are, playing medic, because it's Rex. Because you can't help yourself.

Rex finishes buckling his armor and looks at you, his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze, and a moment passes between the two of you. An understanding. A realization. Something is changing, something fundamental, and neither of you knows what to do about it. But you don't need to. Not yet.

"Listen," he starts, his voice soft. "I—"

"Sir!"

The two of you flinch, startled, and you turn towards the source of the voice, your hand drifting towards your lightsaber. Fives and Echo are jogging across the courtyard, their blasters raised. You relax, and Rex lets out a sigh, running a hand over his head.

"Yes?" he calls.

"General," Fives pants, and he skids to a stop, his helmet under his arm. "Sorry to interrupt, but we found something."

"What is it?" Rex asks, frowning. 

Fives glances at you, and a grim expression settles on his face. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"It's...just come see."

Rex nods, and he gestures for Fives to lead the way. The trooper hurries off, and you follow, Rex at your side. The four of you weave through the rubble toward the castle, Fives and Echo in the lead, Rex and you a few steps behind. You feel a chill creep up your spine, a sense of unease filling you, and your hand rests on your lightsaber, your thumb brushing against the hilt.

As the doors loom overhead, Rex looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. You shake your head, a silent warning, and he nods, his expression hardening.

Whatever it is, it's not good.

You pass through the archway and into the darkened hall. The interior is massive, a high vaulted ceiling overhead, with ornate columns rising from the floor to the roof. The walls are lined with marble, and the floor is polished black stone. There are statues lining the walls, and they look like they were once pristine, but now they're covered in soot, and chunks of the ceiling have fallen, smashing the art. The place smells like smoke and death.

"This way," Echo says, gesturing to the left. The group turns and heads down the hallway, your footsteps echoing around you.

As you move deeper into the castle, the air becomes thicker, the smell of smoke and dust growing stronger. The hallways narrow, and the walls become rougher, the marble replaced by stone. Torches flicker along the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Your uneasiness only compounds the further you walk, and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You're starting to feel sick, the sensation only growing stronger with each step.

You glance over at Rex to find him already watching you, his brow furrowed. He slows, letting the others get a few paces ahead, and he leans towards you, his voice low.

"What is it?" he asks. "Do you sense something?"

"I do," you whisper. You rub your temples, your eyes drifting closed. "But I can't put my finger on it. It's..."

"What?" he prompts.

"Dark," you say. "Very dark."

"Shit," he breathes. His hand reaches out, hovering near your shoulder, as if he wants to comfort you, but he hesitates. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," you murmur. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," he says, though the worry remains in his eyes. He steps back, putting a little distance between the two of you, and he nods towards the others. "Let's catch up."

You nod, and the two of you resume walking, following the clones through the gloom. The air is getting colder, the scent of smoke growing stronger, and you can hear a low hissing sound, like gas escaping from a broken pipe. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore it. Whatever it is, whatever is making you feel so ill, it's coming from up ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, the four of you come to a stop outside a massive wooden door, and Fives looks back at Rex, gesturing towards the handle. The captain nods, and the trooper takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No," you answer, and the three of them chuckle, the sound echoing around you.

Fives nods and pulls the door open, and a wave of cold air rushes out, blowing through your hair and making the torches flicker. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, and a lump forms in your throat.

There's a long, winding staircase leading down into the darkness. The walls are covered in soot, and the stones are slick with ice. The air is frigid, and your breath mists in front of your face. You can hear the sound of dripping water, and the scent of dampness and decay fills the air.

"I don't like this," Fives mutters, and Echo grunts in agreement.

Rex looks over at you, and a wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think, General?"

"It's creepy as hell," you deadpan.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he chuckles, and he steps forward, placing his foot on the first step. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."

You follow him into the stairwell, and the rest of the squad falls in line behind you, the four of you descending into the darkness. The light from the torches quickly fades, and the only sound is the scrape of your boots against the ice-covered stone, and the occasional drip of water.

The further you go, the worse the feeling gets, and the air grows colder, the smell of rotting wood and mold invading your nose. You feel like you can't breathe, like there's a hand gripping your throat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"You sure you're alright?" Rex asks quietly. He doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the steps, his fingers gripping the railing.

"No," you murmur, and he frowns, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"Not unless you do," you reply. "It's just..."

"Yeah," he agrees, nodding.

The stairs eventually level out, and the path opens into a cavernous chamber, the ceiling soaring high above your head. The walls are covered in stalactites, and the ground is slick with ice. You can't see beyond your hand, and you stumble forward, your foot sliding out from under you.

"Easy," Rex murmurs, grabbing your arm, steadying you.

"Thanks," you grunt, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings. You draw your sabers, the yellow blades illuminating the room, and you hear the sound of the others' flashlights flicking on, the beams of light dancing around the space.

"What the hell is this place?" Fives asks. His voice is hushed, but it echoes around you, the silence deafening.

"I don't know," Rex whispers. He lets go of your arm and walks forward, his eyes scanning the room. You stay close, not wanting to lose him in the darkness. "It looks like some sort of dungeon, or..."

"A tomb," you finish, and he looks back at you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah," he agrees. "It does."

You step forward, your gaze sweeping the area. The ceiling is high, the walls covered in icicles. The ground is smooth, with a layer of ice coating it, and you can see a path leading deeper into the cavern. You feel a tug, a pull, and your pulse quickens.

"Rex," you murmur.

"Yeah," he says. He follows your gaze, and he sighs, his expression grim. "I know."

You nod and begin moving forward, the others falling in line behind you. Your footsteps are muffled by the ice, and the air grows colder, a chill settling over the room. The light from your sabers doesn't seem to reach the walls, and the darkness presses in on you, like a living, breathing thing.

"General," Echo says, his voice low. "You don't think this is a trap, do you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, and the three clones let out a chorus of sighs. You turn and look back at them, arching an eyebrow. "If it is, it's not a very good one."

"True," Fives agrees. "Maybe Dooku isn't as smart as we thought."

"Or, maybe he's playing a different game," Rex says, his tone grim. He glances at you, his eyes lingering on yours. "Just...be ready."

"Always," you assure him.

You continue through the cave, the air growing colder, the ice thickening beneath your feet. The path twists and turns, and the ceiling lowers, until you have to duck to avoid the icicles hanging above.

Finally, the path opens into another large chamber, and you come to a stop, taking in the sight before you. The ground is littered with debris, chunks of stone and rubble scattered around the space. A row of unlit torches lines the walls, and you can see a series of steps leading down into the center of the room, the ground cracked and broken.

And there, in the middle of the chaos, is a pedestal.

You frown, stepping forward. There's something on top of the pedestal, but it's too far away to see clearly. You reach the edge of the broken ground, and you stop, peering down.

"What is that?" you murmur.

Rex comes up beside you, his brow furrowed. "Looks like a...box."

Your blood runs cold, and you turn, your hand twisting. The torches ignite, filling the room with light, and you see the box, the ornate wood gleaming in the torchlight. Its surface is scorched and dented, and it's covered in ash, but there's no mistaking it.

"Get out," you say, your voice hoarse.

"What?" Fives asks. "But we—"

"Get out!" you shout, and they flinch, stumbling backwards. "Now!"

Rex hesitates, his eyes darting from the box to your face, and you stare at him, your hands clenched into fists, the blood roaring in your ears. After a moment, he nods, and he raises his hand, signaling the others to fall back.

"Yes, sir," Fives murmurs, and he turns and begins marching back the way you came. Echo gives you a long look, his eyes lingering on yours, and then he, too, retreats. Rex doesn't move, and you turn, glaring at him.

"Go," you order.

"You told me to stay close to you, remember?" he retorts, and his voice is laced with anger, his jaw clenched. "Well, I am. And I'm not leaving."

You sigh, a headache building behind your eyes, and you shake your head. "Rex, I—"

"No," he growls. "Don't. Don't push me away."

"It's not—"

"You're not going through this alone."

"But—"

"I don't care."

His voice echoes around the chamber, and you swallow hard, the air rushing from your lungs. You stare at him, at his unwavering determination, his absolute refusal to back down, and a part of you wants to push him, wants to shove him away and send him back to the others. He's disobeying your orders, he's questioning your authority, and you should be angry. You should be furious.

But instead, you feel relieved.

You turn back towards the pedestal, the box gleaming in the flickering light, and a cold weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

"Alright," you sigh, deactivating your sabers and shoving them into their holsters. "Fine."

Rex's expression softens, and he reaches for you, his hand settling on your shoulder. You lean into him, his warmth comforting, and he squeezes gently.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, and the two of you begin the descent, slowly making your way down the broken path. The ground is slick with ice, and your feet slide a few times, Rex's grip on your shoulder tightening to keep you from falling. You finally reach the bottom, and you approach the pedestal, a lump forming in your throat.

You stand over the box, and you run your fingers along the surface. It's warm, and there's a faint vibration, the Force humming with energy.

"What is it?" Rex asks, his voice quiet.

"It's..." You trail off, and you swallow hard. "It's what I found when I went out that night."

He frowns, and then recognition dawns on his face, and his eyes widen. "You mean when you were attacked?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Rex is silent, and you stare at the box, a wave of emotion welling up inside you. Anger, sadness, grief. They mix together, churning in your stomach, and you clench your fists, the nails digging into your palms. You can feel the darkness swirling around you, a miasma of pain and fury, and it threatens to drown you. But you can't look away, can't turn your back.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you repeat, and the word comes out thick, the tears burning hot. "I'm sure."

"Then, it's him," Rex whispers, his voice laced with sympathy. He steps closer, his hand settling on your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Isn't it?"

"It is."

You reach out and place your hand on the lid, and the wood is smooth and cool under your fingertips. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then, with a single, smooth motion, you lift the lid. The hinges creak, the sound echoing around the chamber, and a cloud of dust swirls in the air.

The inside of the box is lined with a velvet material, the fabric faded and worn. The scrap of her robe is still there, along with the datapad, but that isn't what makes your heart seize in your chest. 

It's the lightsaber.

You recognize it immediately, the sleek, silver hilt a stark contrast against the crimson fabric. It's the same design, the same length, the same width. You've seen it a hundred times, a thousand, more than you can count. But the last time you saw it, it was in her hands, a blaze of green light. Now, it sits, cold and lifeless, and the ache inside you only grows.

And when you reach out, your fingers brushing the blade, the hum that vibrates up your arm is unmistakable. The same hum, the same vibration, the same power. Her power.

"Is that..." Rex breathes, his eyes wide.

"Yes," you choke out, the tears spilling over.

You can feel his presence behind you, his energy warm and steady. But even his strength can't shield you from the anguish that bubbles up inside you, a deep, primal wound reopening. It's a wound you've spent the past ten years ignoring, pushing aside, burying deep, but now it's tearing you apart, the pain consuming you.

Your hand encloses around the hilt, pulling it to your chest. The metal is cold, and you can feel the steady, rhythmic pulse of the kyber crystal inside, a faint echo of her Force signature. It's been so long since you've felt her presence. Since you've been able to sense her power, her wisdom, her kindness.

It's like a knife to the heart, the wound reopened, bleeding anew.

Rex's hand grips your shoulder, a comforting weight, but the sorrow is a tidal wave, drowning you. It's all too much. The memories, the guilt, the regret. They crash over you, threatening to drag you under, and a sob tears from your lips. You're falling, the darkness consuming you, the void swallowing you whole. You're spiraling out of control, the pain overwhelming, and you can't stop it, can't hold it back. All you can do is cling to the hilt, to her weapon, and hope she can forgive you.

But as you fall to your knees, Rex is there. His arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground, a cry ripping from your throat, and the two of you sink down together, your head pressed against his shoulder.

You bury your face in his neck, the tears flowing freely, your body trembling. His hand finds yours, the one holding her lightsaber, and he entwines his fingers with yours, his other arm tightening around your waist. He's whispering something, his voice soft and soothing, but you can't make out the words, can't focus on anything but the pain. And as Rex holds you, your face pressed against his neck, you let go.

You let the emotions wash over you, the grief and the agony and the remorse. You let the darkness consume you, and you let yourself feel the pain. Because this is what she would have wanted. This is what she would have told you.

To let go. To release the past. To find peace.

So, that's what you do. For the first time in ten years, you let yourself mourn.

You mourn the loss of her, the emptiness in your life, the absence of her guidance, her friendship. You mourn the future that could have been, the bond the two of you shared. The connection that was severed, the wound that will never heal.

It's the most painful thing you've ever experienced, and the agony is a physical thing, clawing at your chest, tearing through your heart. It's the most intense emotion you've ever felt, and it's excruciating, but you don't pull away. You don't hide from it. Instead, you cling to Rex, his arms a steady, reassuring weight around you, and you let yourself feel it. All of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, your voice muffled against his armor. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice strained, and his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you tighter against him. "It's not your fault."

"I couldn't...I wasn't...I tried to..." You can't get the words out, can't form a coherent sentence, and your head throbs, the pain blinding. "I couldn't save her."

"You did everything you could," he says. "You didn't fail her. You didn't fail anyone."

You want to believe him, to let his words soothe the ache, but the sorrow is overwhelming, the guilt crushing. And, even as you cry, a part of you feels guilty for showing him this side of you. For letting him see the weakness, the vulnerability. But the truth is, you've been weak for a long time, and he's been there every step of the way.

He's seen your worst, and yet, he's stayed.

"I miss her," you sob, the tears burning hot. "I just..."

"I know," he breathes. His cheek presses against the top of your head, his fingers stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You don't know how long you sit there in the icy cavern, Rex's arms wrapped around you. You cry until there are no tears left, until the sobs turn to hiccups, and the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths. And all the while, Rex is there, his grip never loosening, his voice never wavering.

When the last of the tears have dried, you slump against him. Your body feels heavy, drained, and the lightsaber is a dead weight in your hand, the cold metal leeching what little warmth you have left.

You lift your head, and Rex's gaze meets yours. You're surprised to see his eyes are wet too, his lashes clumped together. His nostrils flare, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure. He gives you a weak smile, and you swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Thank you," you finally manage, and the words come out thick, the tears welling again. "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't expect—"

"Hey," he murmurs as his thumbs wipe away the tears, his touch gentle. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

You nod, and he pulls you against him, his head resting on top of yours. The two of you fall into another silence, your arms wrapped around each other, the lightsaber clasped tightly in your fist.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps fills the cavern, and you hear the others calling out, their voices echoing around you. Rex pulls away, and he looks over his shoulder, watching as the troopers approach. His body shields you from view, protecting your privacy, and a wave of gratitude washes over you.

"Not yet," he says, his voice stern, and the footsteps stop, hesitating. "We need a few minutes."

"General," Fives calls. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Rex answers for you.

"Are you sure? We heard crying."

"She's fine," he repeats, his voice hardening. "Just...give us a minute."

You close your eyes, exhaustion tugging at your limbs, and you rest your head on Rex's shoulder, letting the sounds of his voice soothe you. The others are talking, whispering amongst themselves, but you can't make out the words. You're not sure you want to.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there, but eventually, the voices grow quiet, and you hear the troopers walking away, their footsteps fading into the distance. When they're gone, you open your eyes and stare at the ground, the tears drying on your cheeks.

"You didn't tell them," you say, your voice quiet.

"No," he admits. "I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because," he murmurs. He turns, his hand reaching up, his fingers tilting your chin towards him. Your gazes meet, his eyes soft, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "You deserved a moment alone to grieve. Without the others staring."

You nod, and a weak smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, the tears welling once more. He cares so much, cares more than he should, and it warms your heart despite the cold surrounding you.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out strained, your voice cracking.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. Rex lets go of your chin, his hand falling back to his side. "I wish I could do more."

"You're already doing more than enough," you tell him, and you mean it. If not for him, you would have lost yourself completely. The thought terrifies you, but also warms you. He's saved you, time and time again, without even realizing it. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have," he says, his expression earnest. "But I'm glad you didn't have to."

"Me, too," you murmur.

The two of you stay there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the faint drip of water. The air is frigid, the chill seeping into your bones, and you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Come on," Rex says. He gives your shoulder a squeeze, his hand trailing down your arm and coming to a rest on your elbow. "Let's get out of here."

"Yeah," you agree, and you let him help you to your feet, your legs shaking. You brush the dirt and grime from your clothes, and then look down at the box, your mouth pulling into a grimace.

"I can't believe he kept it," you mutter, placing the lightsaber back inside, the scrap of fabric on top of it. The lid falls shut, a loud thump echoing around the chamber.

"I'm not surprised," Rex replies, his tone laced with bitterness. He shakes his head, a scowl on his face.  "He likes his trophies."

"He's sick," you mutter. The rage is starting to burn inside you again, the pain giving way to anger, a familiar, comforting emotion. "Do you think this was his plan all along? To lure me here?"

"Maybe," he admits, his eyes sweeping the area, his expression hardening. "But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you have your evidence. You can finally get justice."

"Justice," you repeat. The word tastes like ash in your mouth. You shake your head, your lips pulling into a thin line. "All I want is revenge."

"Revenge won't bring her back," Rex murmurs. His hand rests on your lower back, his warmth seeping through the fabric. "You need to be smarter than that. We can't—"

"I know," you interrupt. "I know we can't."

"If it was up to me..." He trails off, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your spine.

"Yeah," you sigh. You reach out and pick up the box, the weight of it heavy in your arms. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and then glance up at him, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Wishful thinking, right?"

"Wishful thinking," he echoes, and the two of you share a chuckle, the tension in the air easing. 

Rex looks at you, a softness in his gaze, and a strange feeling passes between the two of you, the understanding, the acceptance. This war is not about justice, it's not about peace. It's about survival, and the two of you have to fight tooth and nail just to stay alive. But the fact that he's fighting with you, the fact that he's by your side, means everything.

"Come on," he says, and he gently guides you towards the path, his hand lingering on your back.

You nod, and the two of you begin walking, your footsteps echoing around the chamber. You follow the path, Rex's presence steady at your side, and the darkness recedes, the torchlight growing brighter. You can feel the weight of the box in your arms, the pulse of the kyber crystal, the whisper of her Force signature.

Yaddle.

Your Master. Your family.

Gone.

And the one responsible, just out of reach.

But if you can make the Council listen, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to bring him to justice.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

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@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees

[curi0us-gh0st]

Unexpected Love (Ha Do-yeong & Jeon Jae-jun)

pairings: Ha Do-yeong x Fem!Reader, Jeon Jae-jun x Fem!Reader.

word count: 1.904

genre: fluffy, smut.

summary: In unusual situations, love can arise.

warnings: shy Do-yeong, drinking, kissing, grinding, blowjob, cum on face, annoying Jae-jun (start), swearing, groping, riding, shy reader running away from Jae-jun, romantic Jae-jun (?).

a/n: hey guys, I'm placing orders now... I had no internet these days, so I'm late! patience sweethearts 😭🤲🏻

request: yes, I just forgot to reply 😭

Ha Do-yeong

★ Do-yeong saw you for the first time at a business meeting, you were a partner in one of the companies that wanted to partner with his company. You looked stunning in a tight knee-length skirt, a gray blazer and a white blouse, simple but in Ha's eyes it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was so shy with her presence that he had to gather strength to talk to her about the company, her sweet and gentle voice made the hairs on his skin stand up and his heart beat faster in his chest.

★ After several formal meetings between business partners, he asked you out, you smiled at how he seemed nervous and was denying that he wanted to take advantage of you, that he wasn't that kind of man. He said he would pick him up at home and he did, wearing one of his expensive suits, he stopped in front of his house; Do-yeong went out to open the door for you and when he saw you leaving his house in a long dress that perfectly hugged your body, his jaw dropped to the floor, struck by your beauty, if you were already beautiful at work, imagine casually. He opened the car door so nervous that his hands were sweating, him praising how you were doing, the drive to the restaurant was him trying to stop praising you with every word that came out of your mouth as you giggled softly at his cuteness.

★ Dinner was something magical, the restaurant was so elegant and luxurious, there were candles on the tables in the room, music softly playing in the background, orders were made while you talked about your personal lives and ended up talking about work. The minutes you spent together, full of laughter and compliments, all very polite and romantic, you realized that there was something about him that attracted you, you liked him and his gentlemanly way.

★ He took her to a more private area of the restaurant, where there was a deck, the moonlight shining along with some candles, comfortable armchairs, couples hugging each other because of the cold while holding a glass of wine. Do-yeong ordered two glasses, standing up next to you in one of the armchairs and saying that he loved meeting you, how brilliant you are and an excellent worker.

★ With the arrival of the wine, he felt really shy, becoming more smiling and flirtatious, he noticed that you were starting to shrink, he took off his own blaze and placed it on your shoulders to keep you warm. In a moment, your eyes met, smiles on your faces, your hearts beating in sets, warm and excited, then, you separated the distance between you, kissing his lips, him feeling your soft and plump lips on his, a kiss calm and passionate, followed by several other kisses.

★ He quickly paid the bill and took it home, his hand on your thigh as he drove. When they arrived in front of your house, you pulled him inside and started kissing, this time being more hot and needy, you looked into his eyes to see if he wanted that too, when he gave the green flag, devouring him. You became so fierce, maybe it was because of the glasses of wine you drank. He almost died when you took off your dress and threw it away, just stripping down to your lingerie and sitting on his lap, your eyes on his and saying, "I know I'm not that kind of person, just like you, but you're so sweet that I need it. You seem so right." you whimpered into his ear.

★ You started rubbing against him, so softly. Some murmurs came out of his mouth as she kissed him and his hands wandered around his waist. He kisses down her neck and his hands go to her breasts to massage, pressing them against her bra. Your hands unbuttoning his shirt, reaching his belt buckle, you got up from him and knelt in front of him, pulling down his pants, so submissive to him, his thick and big cock, barely closed in your hand, you almost worried if would fit you. You licked his glans, which expelled pre-semen, making him moan, licking the length to his balls, leaving no part unattended.

★ Your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock and swallowed it, putting it down your throat and taking it out, his head moving up and down, him murmuring how good you were doing, he grabbed a handful of your hair, starting to pump it into your mouth from behind of your pleasure, when his hips stuttered and you took him out of your mouth, cupping the valley of your soft breasts and stimulating him again until he released jets of cum covering your breasts and your chin.

★ He mumbled something watching you lick your chin until he got up and climbed onto you making you let out a little scream, lying on your back on the soft sofa, without delay, stuffing your insides and starting to pound you, your moans being music to his ears , begging him to go faster as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails hurting his shoulders and back. The sound of their skin slapping together, their sweaty bodies, sloppy kisses, their stained skin, panting and needing an orgasm.

★ He pounded into you more, feeling on edge as he shed a few tears as he moaned that he was close. You came in a strong orgasm, screaming loudly as you arched his back, pressing your chest to his, he hit it a few more times until he withdrew and came on your thigh. Silence filled the place, as he looked at you, brushing a few strands of hair off your sweaty face and gave you a gentle smile, saying: "I never imagined you would do something like that. You are unreal.", leaving you shy as you hid the face on his neck and he laughed in his own way.

Jeon Jae-jun

★ When you met Jae-jun, you found him irritating and presumptuous, thinking that the world revolved around him and he could have everything he had whenever he wanted. But you wouldn't say that, because he was his boss. The way he treated his employees was that of an arrogant and annoying boss, you and the others always had to swallow the complaints coming from Jeon in silence.

★ He wasn't the sweetest person in the world, but I must admit that he was handsome and seductive, it depended on what he was using that charm for, he was actually nice. Good, kind. One night, it was raining a lot and you were the only one there to close the store, there was no way to go with the storm on the other side of the window, it was heavy rain.

★ His eyes were looking outside when suddenly his boss came out of the "fitting room", upon seeing you he turned off his phone and put it away. "What the fuck, this all of a sudden!" He complained seeing that he couldn't get out of there so soon. "Are you still here? Oh, why?" Jeon addressed you. "I was closing the store, I didn't know you were there." She answered his question shyly.

★ He mumbled a few more things, walking side to side, until everything went dark. The light went away with the storm, of course; Bad place and time for this. "What the hell- We pay the power bill this month?" He asked again, receiving a nod. He took off his blazer with the heat that was starting to form, you swallowed hard seeing his muscular body, quickly looking away.

★ He sat next to you, his cell phone went dead and if he walked a little further it would ring louder. The silence was occupied by the sound of rain outside, not knowing what to do, nervous. You always denied that you had a crush on your boss, even if he was a scumbag, he was hot. Jae-jun looked at you, taking in your features and realizing how beautiful you were, his eyes traveling down the side of your face to your breasts trapped in your work blazer. "You're pretty, wow." He praised without thinking and you gasped. "What?" You asked and when you went to turn around, you felt his lips on yours.

★ He held the back of your head, kissing your lips in a rough, therefore delicate, way. At first, hesitant until you reciprocate. Just pulling away when he was out of breath, seeing his bruised lips, starting to kiss down, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his neck, unbuttoning his blazer and throwing it in some corner of the floor. So confused and excited that your shaking hands didn't know what to do, what were you doing? His hands quickly moving up to take off their clothes.

★ You barely remember how you got to the dressing room, sitting on your boss's dick while he said dirty things in your ears, fucking your brains out until your brains were mush. The rain falling heavily, the heat of the room and their bodies feeling as if they were on fire from the lack of light, their sweaty, thrashing bodies causing sounds that filled the room, their stained necks, messy hair, dizzy with pleasure and eager to reach its peak.

★ "Fuck! I never thought your pussy would be so good to fuck. I should have done it sooner Y/N, you're so hot." He said thrusting his hips into you, moaning together and kissing your lips in a way that made your hearts catch fire. Why is he saying these things? You thought, he wasn't that kind of person, but you weren't caring at the moment, feeling her dick kiss your cervix, making you moan louder. Both tired and overwhelmed, reaching their limits, so sensitive and weak, their bodies becoming limp until they lay down straight on the couch.

★ In the following days, you didn't speak to each other, you barely looked into his eyes, out of shame and shyness, you had sex with your boss, at the place you work, you just wanted to get into the ground even more because you couldn't get him out of own head. Intrusive thoughts causing excitement as he worked, flash of him fucking you in every position imaginable, abusing and filling your pussy perfectly with his thick, robust cock. When he would appear when you had these thoughts, making you blush and dizzy, always finding a way to escape.

★ Until one day, he cornered you. "Why are you running away from me?", quickly responding saying that he wasn't and that he was just doing his job, until an: "Um… Are you still thinking about me fucking your pussy?", his head shaking negatively, completely flushed and embarrassed. "It's okay. I hope you are, because I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day." Jae-jun whispered until he kissed you in a different, passionate and unusual way, your heart melting in your chest until he pulled away and smiled. "Tomorrow, at 8pm. I'll pick you up at your house, wear your best clothes." he said before kissing your lips again and leaving, leaving a red and confused you, almost bursting with happiness.

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Bruce introducing Clark as his partner for the first time and the bat kids taking the opportunity for what it is

-

Dick

Clark wonders in the kitchen around 5am to start a family breakfast as Alfred is on his rare vacation in Europe.

He had already been halfway through when he finally noticed the body standing in the door way.

“… Dick? Are you ok?”

There’s no answer.

“Dick?”

Clark doesn’t even get a chance to blink before Dick is holding a sharp piece of Kryptonite to his neck. “You hurt my dad and I’ll show you just how fucked up a human truly could be.”

And this, this is the Robin that Clark knew.

This was the Robin who was angry and violent during his training with Batman.

This was Robin who made Bruce grow from angry and violent himself and learned how to be an actual person and how to love for the first time in a long time.

This was the Robin who wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man for taking the last of what he had of a family.

This is the Robin who grew up to be a Nightwing who was still so violent and angry but in a different way.

Clark swallowed. “Ya, ya. Yep. Of course-“

Dick pulls back and takes threes steps away from Clark. He smiles innocently, like he didn’t do what he just did. “What are you making? Smells good.”

“I- well- uh-“ Clark blinks. “Pancakes.”

“Add chocolate chips, Tim will love them.”

Clark nods and stares at the unblinking first Robin.

“Ok.”

Tim

Tim was… magnificent.

Magnificent and brilliant.

Clark, although technically not Tim’s parent, still had that parent pride you get for children. (He gets that for all of Bruce’s children.)

“So, you’re dating Bruce huh.”

Nodding, Clark grins. “Yes.” It then flatters. “Does this bother you? I know Bruce never actually dated dated before-“

Tim rolls his eyes and gets into Clark’s personal space and stares.

Just stares without blinking.

Tim, who was once a child who helped Bruce grow out of his depression of loosing his second.

Tim who was so damn talented with computers he hacked Clark’s ship for information for Bruce was Bruce could only get in the very edges of the information plated there.

Tim who was an absolute beast when it comes down to it.

“Uh… Tim?”

“Hmm…” Something in Tim’s eyes shift. “Hurt him and I’ll personally cut you open and do unspeakable experiments on the alien who dared break my dad’s heart.”

And really, Tim scared the absolute shit out of Clark. Always has.

“Yes- yes- of course- I never doubt- I never would-“

Tim grins once more, backing away. “So, there’s this movie coming out I think you would like, wanna go see it?”

“I-“ Clark only nods.

Duke

“Oh, hello Duke-“ Clark begins, smiling softly at the newest family member. Duke, although only being here for about a year and a half, has landed in Clark’s heart that belongs to the Robins and the Robins only.

Duke was a beautiful child, turning man.

He had the kindest smile and even kinder words.

He was Bruce’s first to be taken in at such a large age, but still one of Bruce’s babies.

“I’ll skip the pleasantries.”

Clark pauses form where he was taking his shoes off. “Oh,”

Duke looks him up and down then glared. “You and Bruce huh?”

Shifting on his feet, one shoed and one not, Clark nods. “Yep. Couldn’t be happier-“

“I haven’t been with him nearly as long as the others, especially by age, but Bruce has turned into a type of second father for me.”

Clark nods. “Yes, I know-“

A green light comes from Duke’s palm and Clark feels the itch of something very familiar. “Hurt my dad and I’ll fuck you up.”

“Yep, heard loud and clear-“

“Good.” Duke’s eyes glare for a moment longer before he relaxes and smiles at Clark. “Anywho, Bruce is waiting for you in his office! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Clark gulps.

Cass

Clark adored Cass.

She was so… something Clark couldn’t describe. She just was amazing, in every way of the word and more.

Cass was Bruce’s first girl, his little princess.

Cass was the one who was hurt so deeply that she should have had a different ending, but she crawled out of it and became something more.

Something to look up at.

And she terrifies him.

You hurt my dad and I’ll kill you, Kent

Short and sweet, just like her.

She signed to him after catching him in the hallway at 2am because Clark was spending the night and he had to pee.

Clark wonders back to the bed room and asks Bruce, sheepishly, is he could borrow a pair of shorts.

Damian

Now Damian, oh tiny but loud Damian, was the one who scared Clark from day one.

Not for the reasons you think, no.

It was because this tiny little baby was hurt so badly growing up because his mother was unable to protect him as much as she wished she could and he thought he deserved it.

Damian who scratched and bite.

Damian who made Bruce have heart attack after heart attack.

So, when Damian cornered Clark one day, Clark couldn’t help but admire the little boy who is slowly turning into a strong man.

“Hurt my baba and I’ll make you wish you died on the planet you came from.”

Clark would have laughed if he didn’t think it was true.

Steph

Steph was an interesting case.

Not Bruce’s, but Bruce’s nonetheless.

“Hello Stephanie. I’m making apple pie for dessert tonight. I know you don’t like apple though. Would you like me to make you something else-“

Steph gives him a long stare. “You know, Bruce and I have a strange relationship.”

“… Yes.”

She nods. “Well, despite this, he’s still an important part to me. Hurt him and you make a lifelong enemy.”

Clark nods, trying to ignore the way his hand shakes from needing the dough. “I know.”

“I would like chocolate something, please.”

“Of course.”

Jason

Someone is following Clark.

They had been following him for blocks now, but Clark can’t pin point them.

He finally makes it to his apartment, shutting the door shut, heart pumping. He breaths deeply and stands up straight, chuckling to himself for being so foolish.

Someone was probably just walking in the same direction as him consequently.

“Clark Kent. Grew up on a farm. Crash landed on Earth… an alien.”

Spinning on his heel, Clark’s eyes widened at Jason standing in the middle of his living room.

“Oh- hello Jason. Did you need something-“

“Cut the crap.”

Clark takes in a long breath.

This was… Jason.

Jason was the one who died and came back, broken and ready to do things that shouldn’t be spoken of.

Jason who grew up in the streets because he father was doing illegal things and got caught and his mother overdosed.

Jason who was the first the make Bruce realize he wasn’t just a guardian, but a father.

Jason who made Bruce and Dick reconnect and become fatherandson once again during their biggest argument.

“I know.” Clark says before Jason could even open his mouth.

“Do you?”

Clark takes a long look at the man who never really had the chance to be a child. He looks at the man who, despite being the second eldest, looked like he was the youngest out of all of Bruce’s children. “I know if I hurt your father I will have some serious problems later.”

Jason stares back.

“Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t.”

Jason leaves the way he came.