#and even worse I don’t think that the other person ever even realized the book was open. which is partly why it bugs me so much

[natugood]

Do you ever have a memory which sticks with you, and the longer it sits there the worse you feel about it? Yeah. I have one of those that’s been bugging me more and more recently, and I want it to stop souring. I just have no idea how to go about it.

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[satforsatoru]

𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭

➪ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮? 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

no warnings

“You shouldn’t have gone on that mission by yourself.” 

The corner of your lip twitched, dangerously close to a frown. Satoru had been nagging you nonstop about the three-day mission you had just returned from, and your patience was getting thin. 

“I think I got that the first… I don’t know, three times you said that?” You snarked, still trying to focus on the book in your hands. 

You’d been looking forward to finishing it after your mission, but Satoru had barged into your apartment, pissy and demanding that you indulge his complaints. “You’re not getting it,” He hissed, approaching you from where he was pacing a hole in your living room carpet.

“I was available to go on that mission with you!” He insisted. That one phrase sent the rest of your patience up in flames and you slammed your book shut. 

“I am well aware since it was me who asked that you not go with me!” You hissed, unthinkingly. It took a long moment of silence from Satoru for you to realize exactly what you had just said.

“Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean-”

“You asked for me not to come?” He repeated lowly. You blinked back at him, your mind running rampant with possible responses, but none of them could be forced from your lips. Truthfully, the idea of going on a mission with him terrified you. 

How could you compete, or even keep up, with him? Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what it mattered to be a sorcerer when Satoru existed. After all, what could you compare to the strongest there is? 

Someone so powerful that the very earth shook at the beginning of his existence. What did it matter if you exorcized curses or not? Try or give up? You would never amount to even half of what he was on his worst days.

You didn’t used to be so insecure, you were strong (or you used to think so) and took care of curses that others couldn’t. It wasn’t until that fateful day that Satoru confessed and promised to always be yours that you began to have doubts. 

Insecurity hovered closely behind you as he told you of his missions or how easily he’d taken care of curses that you couldn’t even begin to imagine facing off against. Worse yet were his promises to protect you, as if you were a helpless thing (but wouldn't you be, compared to the strongest?) that only he could save.

It was your painful, little secret, your feelings of incompetence. You knew it was foolish, that he would never hold the difference in power over you, but having to see it in person? You feared that it might be too much for you.

“Why?” He stressed, impatient with your tense silence. You just shook your head. “I handled it fine! I didn’t need you to babysit me,” You shot back, tired of the stinging in your chest. Your lover scoffed, as if unable to comprehend your words. 

“‘Babysit’? You were gone for three days! I could have helped and had you home in one! I just missed you!” He cried incredulously. The meaning of his words was lost on you the moment he mentioned just how much quicker he would’ve succeeded. 

“I don’t want to go on missions with you, Satoru,” you confessed, “I don’t think I can handle it.” The frustration seemed to melt from his features at your defeated tone. 

“Handle it? Baby, handle what?” He murmured, hands reaching to hold you. When you didn’t move away, one hand made its way behind your head, and the other landed on your back holding you to him. “What use do I have… when around the strongest? Nothing I do can really matter if you can do it twice as fast and so much better,” You whispered brokenly. 

“You don’t truly believe that, do you?” Satoru sighed, pulling away from you. The corner of his lips raised in a small smile and his thumbs gently brushed away your tears. 

“What does it matter to be the strongest if there’s no one else? Not even the ‘strongest’ can do everything by himself… I need you, and every other sorcerer who risks their life every day, so baby, don’t ever think that what you accomplish doesn’t matter.” 

His words were earnest, but your insecurities were strong. Even when you buried your face in Satoru’s chest, you couldn’t hide your feelings from him, six eyes or not. He knew you.

“Do stars lose their worth because they’re not as bright as the moon or the sun?” He murmured into your ear and you laughed around a sob. “When did you get so smart?” You sniffled. Satoru pressed a heavy kiss to your cheek and you could feel his grin.

“I know right? I saw it Pinterest!” He exclaimed, far too proud of himself. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, feeling a little better. 

“And here I thought you came up with that all on your own,” You snorted, hugging him tighter. “Let me come on a mission with you and I’ll impart all of my Pinterest knowledge onto you,” He promised, only half joking. 

You lifted your head to meet his gaze and his smirk softened into a fond smile. “Whenever you’re ready, sweet thing. I hate being away from you, so let me go with you, yeah?” 

The idea of it scared you still, but you had faced worse, and this time, the strongest was going to be beside you as you did so. 

requests are open and reblogs are appreciated!!

[goodboyyyy]

Your phone dinged- it was an email from your college. You'd been waiting for it all summer- you'd been dying to know what dorm you'd be in and who your roommate would be.

You were super excited for college, to be around other smart people, especially since you were going to an Ivy League. You'd kind of been an nerd in high school, but thought that in college, brains might be appreciated over brawn. You'd imagined it a lot- being around other smart people who could actually have a discussion, instead of the homophobic idiots you went to school with, the dumb jocks you had to take classes with, all the dumbasses who cared more about football than books and things like that. You hated being around these idiots more and more every year. Even though you always wished you looked more built, you never let yourself work out or go to the gym. You didn't want to be anything like them.

Grinning, googled your roommates name excitedly and found an Instagram….

Your jaw dropped. This had to be a joke.

He looked just like every stupid muscle head jock you been trying to get away from! You, scrolled and scrolled, hoping your opinion would change, but every picture was just him at the gym, or faxing, or at some party scene like a beach. He was really hot, but you didn’t really want a hot roommate, you just wanted a cool roommate.

You sighed, closing your laptop. There was no sense stressing about it now. You couldn’t really tell how a person was from a picture, anyway. Maybe he was a cool guy who just happened to work out.

But then school started, and your roommate was worse than you imagined- an annoying, pompous jock who thought he knew everything. All he talked about was lifting, dumb motivational sayings, and partying. He wasn't actually dumb- but that just somehow made it worse. It just added to his smug, superior attitude knowing he wasn't a typical dumb jock- and he loved to hear himself talk, always went on and on about everything to show you how much he knew. He wasn't even that douchey- he was just annoying as hell, always thinking he knew more and better, always acting like this great person so people would think that about him. He was even hotter in person, until he opened his mouth at least and the dumbest shit you ever heard seemed to come out of it without fail every time. Now, every time he spoke, he rolled your eyes and automatically tuned him out. It was the only way you could bear having to room with him.

It was awful at first, but the year is going by pretty fast. Before you knew it, winter break was here you were busy packing the last few things to head home. Ironically, you were as excited about going home as you have been to arrive at college. You couldn’t wait to be by yourself, away from this idiot, and not have to hear him or hear about working out or anything like that for a couple of days. Suddenly, your phone dinged. You went to grab it, but your roommate was right next to it, so he passed it over to you. His eyebrows raised as he stared at the screen. “Shit, man.”

“What?” You said as you took the phone. It was a gmail notification.

FLIGHT CANCELLED.

Your stomach dropped. You were already leaving late because your last final had been on the last day the school was open, at the dorms and closed for break that night at midnight. You lived across the country.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to do now,” you said more to yourself and more out of frustration than to him. You didn’t even consider that his dumbass would have any ideas for you.

“Well, why don’t you come stay with me for a little while?”

You looked up at him, eyebrow raised and pretty surprised that he’d offer, till you remembered he was too dumb and clueless to realize how much you didn't like him. You wanted to tell him it was fine, no thanks… but you had no other options now, aside from maybe sleeping in the airport till the blizzard passed. That could be hours or even days, though

“You mean it?”

“Of course man! Look, I know we’re not like, best buds, or gym bros or anything like that, I’m not just gonna leave you stranded here. I’m heading out in like an hour. You can come stay at my place a night or two until you can figure out another flight.”

It wasn’t ideal, but like you’d already realized, you had no other choice right now. You packed the last of your things and put them in his car. The snow was already starting when you left, and came down harder and harder as you drove the 20 or 30 minutes over to his house. You were kind of scared sometimes, but he was actually a really good driver. Anytime this car slid or skidded even a little, it was like he knew exactly what to do to get it back on track. His big muscular arm bulged now and then as he gripped the steering wheel tight when the Jeep had fishtailed briefly a few times, and you caught yourself staring at it a little too long more than once. It was honestly really impressive to watch, you would’ve been freaking out if the car skidded at all like that, but he stayed totally calm. Maybe he did know a thing or two after all.

He already texted his parents and explanation of why you were coming, so they had a plate the food ready for you when you arrived. You weren’t that surprised to see the rest of his family was kind of like him. He had a brother who was like a little jock in training, and a Dad who was like a veteran jock. The conversation was pretty similar to what you’d expected – nothing really substantial, with each of them nodding dumbly every time one of them said something equally dumb.

Once dinner was done you headed upstairs with him.

"So, there's a guest room, but there's also a bed in my room that used to be my brothers. I think you should sleep in that one. It'll be a lot more comfortable."

"I dunno-"

"C'mon man! It'll be just like at school! Plus, there's a bathroom in there. Otherwise you have to share with the rest of my family," he said with a big dumb grin. You sighed. He was just so oblivious, but he had saved your ass letting you stay here, and you didn't want to be rude.

"Alright, fine," you said, heading into his room with him. You saw a picture of him and his brother on his dresser. They were identical. A gold chain necklace was draped over the frame.

"You guys were twins?"

"Yeah..."

"Where did he go?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Fell in love with some girl from another country. Out of the blue, he told us he was moving there with her. Had a big fight with me and my parents over it, and hasn't talked to anyone since. It really sucks. He was my main gym bro."

"Ah, that sucks," you said, not sure of what to say.

"Anyway, lets get to bed," he said, sliding his shirt and pants off. It was a shame he was so dumb, because you would have thought he was so sexy otherwise. He'd been right though- this bed was really comfy. You drifted off to sleep after a few moments, exhausted from packing.

He slid out of bed, opened the closet, and pulled a pair of his brother's old gym shoes out. They were so rank he could smell them from a couple feet away. He slid them under your bed quietly and stepped back, watching the smell seep into you. Your nose wrinkled at first, but he smiled when you started to draw slow, deep inhales of the scent. Then, he pulled his sweaty gym clothes out from earlier, wringing them out into a cologne bottle he left on the bathroom counter.

"Night night, future gym bro," he said, getting back under his covers.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and lethargic. When you opened your eyes, you saw him in the bathroom with the door open, doing the same morning routine he did at school. The thing was, you never really saw him do it that much, because you always avoided using the bathroom when he was in there, otherwise he'd start talking your ear off. He was washing his face. His thick muscles shifted with every slight movement. You knew he was showing off, but fuck was he sexy. It was early and you were still pretty groggy and horny and half-asleep, so much so that you found yourself staring at him, unable to look away. You felt like an asshole, suddenly. He'd invited you here in an emergency, and you'd been rude and judgmental the whole time. His chiseled abs contracted as he bent over the sink and scrubbed his face.

He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned over to you. "Hey man," he said, "Yo. c'mere. You gotta smell this cologne I just got."

You rolled your eyes, but instead of being annoyed, you smiled. He was so cute, in a dumb way. You got up and walked into the bathroom, pulling your boner into your pants elastic so he wouldn't see it. It was good you did, because you felt your cock surge as he raised his arms and sprayed the cologne into his muscular pits.

His biceps peaked as he did. He looked like a model. And the cologne smelled amazing. He noticed you watching him flex and smirked. "You like those, huh? Haha," he said with a laugh.

"Uh- yeah man, really cut... ha ha" you said, trying to play it cool.

"We could get your like that I think," he said, gripping your tiny arms with his big hands.

"Haha, no thanks," you said, stepping back. Still, the scent of the cologne drifted over to you. You had to admit, it smelled pretty good. Kind of familiar, too.

"C'mon man, why not?"

"The gym really isn't my thing."

"Have you ever even been?" he asked, giving his pits another blast of cologne.

"No. Just really not my thing," you said. You got another huge whiff of the cologne just as you turned away from the door. You stopped suddenly. Damn, it smelled good- like it was getting better and better by the second. You took a deep whiff. You didn't want to walk away from it.

"Yo, what brand is that?"

"It's an off brand," he said, "i dunno really."

"Can I try some?" you said, taking another deep inhale. The smell was invigorating. It made you feel like you were bursting with energy- energy you needed to release.

He smirked. "If you come to the gym with me, maybe."

You were about to say no, but you really, really wanted to try that cologne. Plus, you had so much energy now, you needed some way to burn it off. And what else would you do all day? Sit around with his weird family?

"Ok, fine," you said, "But I'm just doing the treadmill though. Maybe an eliptical."

He shrugged. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. What matters is, we're finally gym bros dude!"

"I don't know about all that," you said with a laugh, going to put your shoes on. He was so dumb and easily pleased. Like, who gave a shit if you went to the gym with him or not? Why did it matter so much?

You frowned down as you tried to put your shoes on. For some reason, they seemed smaller. You could barley fit them on, like your foot had grown overnight or something.

"Hey man, i got you," he said, reaching under his brothers bed. He pulled a pair of gym shoes out for you. "These should fit."

You picked them up. They smelled familiar and nice, kind of like the cologne. You were really excited to wear them for some reason, and after you put them on, you felt even better about your decision to go to the gym. You rocked your legs back and forth, bursting with energy. "You ready dude?" you said.

"Lets get it," he said nodding you out the door. "Oh wait. Almost forgot." He reached into his bag and tossed the bottle of cologne over to you. "All yours, man," he said with a grin.

"Thanks bruh," you said, spraying a thick coating under your arms. You wondered why you were talking like that, but as the cologne filled your nose, the thought faded away.

You'd stayed on the treadmill for a while at first, but even there, you were shocked at how fast you could run without getting tired. His brother's old gym shoes were so broken in and cushioned that it felt like you were running on air. But you'd been watching him while he lifted, watching him while the cologne you drenched yourself in seeped into your nose. Running wasn't enough. You needed something to release more energy. You headed over to him, asking if you could join.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. He was drenched in sweat that got all over your clothes. "Here, hit some curls with me," he'd said, handing you a dumbbell. It felt weird but... right in your hand, like you'd finally undergone some masculine right of passage you'd been putting off. You lifted it, but with terrible form.

"Nah man, like this," he said, springing up, and before you knew it he was behind you, his big frame dwarfing yours, and gripped your hands with his own, pushing them up into a proper curl.

"See man? Just like this. Up.... and down," he said slowly into your ear.

He did it a couple times. It felt nice, having him show you. He was a real nice guy, you thought, feeling his hands gripping you own. Your eyes started to glaze over- but when he left go, you immediately started overcompensating with your back. In a flash, he was behind you again.

"Nah bro. You're thinking too much," he said slowly. "Stop. Thinking." he said, gripping your hands again. You were about to tell him to fuck off, but the thought faded away suddenly as his skin touched yours. All your thoughts did, Your head became an empty vacuum.

"Up," he said slowly into your ear, lifting your arms.

Up. Yes. Up. The single directive rushed in to fill the entirety of your empty mind. Up. Up. Up.

He lowered them slowly, maintaining the tension. "And Down."

And Down. Yes. The other two words entered your brain, filling any gaps missed by Up. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

"Up. And Down.," he said in your ear. "That's all that matters. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down."

Your lips began to say the words slowly, matching your movements. Your eyes became totally glazed, and this time, when he let go, you didn't stop. You kept moving with the perfect form he'd just programed into you while he picked up his own dumbbells and lifted next to you moving in sync... it felt so.. nice... moving up...and down....up... and down...

You hadn't remembered much more after that till you were both in the locker room, drenched in sweat after a full workout.

"Great job, man," he said, pulling you in for a high-five hug again. Your sweaty bodies and pumped muscles rubbed against each other in the exchange.

"Thanks bro," you said, still invigorated from the workout. It felt fuckin great. And he'd been so great, showing you proper form for every move, correcting you, adjusting the weight for you. As you both left, you once again felt like an ass for being so rude to him all these months...

When you got home and showered, you felt something itchy under your arms. Checking it out, you noticed your pit hair had gotten a lot darker and thicker. You shrugged. You were almost a year younger than most of your classmates with the way your birthday fell. It must've been the final strokes of puberty, or something.

You headed into your roommate's room for bed. He was propped up in bed in just his underwear, massaging himself with a theragun, nearly moaning. You laughed as you looked at him. He smirked, realizing how funny it looked.

"Laugh all you want, dude, but if you tried it, you'd feel the same way."

"Lemme try then. I'm pretty sore from today already. I still can't believe you convinced me to do weights."

"Haha. I knew you had it in you bro," he said, walking over to you with the theragun. "Aren't you glad you did?"

"Yeah," you said honestly. It had actually felt surprisingly good.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. "Good shit bro. The treadmill is for pussies. You gotta pump these guns, otherwise you're wasting time."

You were about to argue when the theragun hit your sore tricep. The thought slowly faded away as bursts of pleasure rippled out from your muscles. You fell onto the bed, overwhelmed by the feeling, but he kept the gun on you steadily the whole time, watching you squirm and moan. It didn't just feel like a massage, it felt like a whole other workout. You felt the blood pumping into your arms, felt them getting warmer as they bulged and swelled. It felt incredible. He moved around to your bicep, then shoulders, then upper back. He lifted your arms to get underneath them, and you thought you saw his eyes linger on your hairy pits, smiling at them, but you were too preoccupied to think about it. You weren't sure how long he kept at it, but by time he was done, you felt amazing.

"Woah, thanks brah."

"Anytime. Why don't you wash up? We gotta be up early to hit the gym."

"For sure bro," you said, standing up and heading to the bathroom. Yeah, you'd hit the gym again tomorrow. It wasn't even a question, really.

Your eyes widened as you stared in the mirror. You arms looked huge! They hadn't looked this big when you'd gotten out of the shower.

He noticed you admiring them. "It's the theragun, and the uh.... the hot shower. Gets the blood pumped into them. It'll probably be gone in the morning," he said.

"Oh...makes sense," you said, brushing your teeth and sliding into bed.

Once he heard you snoring, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his shaving cream, heading into the bathroom. He whipped his thick cock out and stared at a couple of bimbos getting fucked on his phone, shooting a hot, huge load right into the cream. He swirled it around with his finger, mixing it, then dabbed a bit onto his hand as he headed over to you. He gently spread it over your face, smearing the extra under your pits. Smiling, he went to bed.

You woke up the next day feeling sore and... itchy. You thought it was the pillow, but no matter how you moved, the feeling never went away. Blinking, you scratched at your face, where the feeling was coming from. Your hand met a rough surface. You felt around your face until you realized it was... stubble? But you'd only really had that above your lips. You felt more and more, but it was definitely there.

He looked over to the bathroom. He was up already, shaving in the mirror. He caught your eye again “Hey man. Sleep good?“

“Yeah man, but it looks like some of my facial hair came in overnight or something. It's all itchy.”

You scratched it again, but then thought another itchy, feeling coming out from under your arm. Lifting your arm, you noticed that your pit hair looked even thicker and darker than the night before. And despite what he said about the Theragun and shower, your arms still looked huge. You stare at your body, confused. That late puberty really was hitting you like a train.

"Hey bro, that’s just what happens when you get that testosterone pumping. Come here, I’ll take care of that for you. Just let me finish up.“

You approached as he lifted his chin, showing off his thick neck and sliding his shaver across it. It was strange to watch. You were the same age, and he looked so natural doing it, but it was something you'd never done before. You never had enough facial hair to.

He turned to you, lifting your chin up with one finger, inspecting your stubble. He looked pleased for some reason. He grabbed a jar of shaving cream and opened it- but he hadn't used any? With his razor, he could shave dry, so why-

He smeared the shaving cream on your face, and the cool, minty feeling wiped the question from your mind. Your eyes drooped to his beefy pecs and six pack in front of you as he moved the razor softly over your skin. "You just go nice and slow, just like this," he said, shaving you delicately. Your heart beat faster. It felt weirdly... intimate. You guessed this was something Dad's or older brothers showed youhow to do, but you hadn't had one. You watched intently, trying not to shudder where his fingers grazed your skin. What was weird was, even as the razor removed the hair, it seemed to leave more stubble behind.. but... you liked it. You almost looked... hot. He kept going, till you had a thick 5 o clock shadow just like his.

"I'll let you finish up," he said, sliding you the shaved and shaving cream. "You should shave your pits too, brah. Makes lifting easier. Less irritation."

"Sounds good man," you said, smearing a thick coating of shaving cream onto your hairy pits. It tingled like before. Just like with your face, even though it removed the hair, it seemed to leave more hair follicles behind. You squinted at it. Probably just a trick of the light.

"Ready to hit the gym again?"

"Hell yeah," you said. "But I just have to check flights first-"

"Ah, you know, I was gonna check for you earlier, but our Wifi was acting up."

"That's cool. I can just check on my phone."

"Alright. But just get dressed first," he said, handing you his brothers shoes again.

You were going to tell him to just wait, but the sight of the shoes got you excited. You'd felt really good wearing them.

"Alright," you said, taking them and eagerly sliding them on. The second you tied them, you stood up, pumping your legs one after another. You felt ready to go!

"Oh. and don't forget the cologne. You don't wanna smell like sweat, ya know," he said with a laugh as he tossed you the bottle. It excited you, just like the shoes. You sprayed about ten or eleven sprays on you, letting the scent fill your nose. It smelled even better than the day before. You felt filled with energy, invigorated again, like you needed to get out and release it. But first you just had to... had.... to... look... at...... you................had................to..........look..........at......f....???

"Yo, was I gonna do something man?" you asked, brow hunching in the same confused, dumb way his usually did.

"Yeah. You were gonna wear my gym clothes since you don't have your own. You just asked like a minute ago, man, haha. Remember?"

"Ah, my bad," you said laughing. You'd really zoned out there, haha. You threw on the muscle tee and thigh shorts he tossed you. They must've been from a three pack or something, because he put on the same exact ones.

"Lets get it, brah," he said, slapping you on the back.

"Lets gooo!" you said back, and you guys headed out.

It was the same as the day before. You were doing shoulder presses awfully at first, feeling awkward and self concious, but then his hands were under your arms and his voice was in your ear.

"Up and down, bro. Up and down. That's all that matters. Let all those other thoughts, other things you know about go. They're just weighing you down. You only need to know three things, bro."

You nodded, eyes glazing over again. "Up. And Down," you said, pressing the weight overhead cleanly. "Up. And Down," you repated, sinking into a smooth rhythm of presses. He stood next to you again, lifting at the same time as you. You felt yourself sweating all your thoughts out, getting dumber by the second. You knew you should stop but- buuu- u- up....

Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

He took you through a bunch of other exercises, reminding you whenever he saw you lose focus. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

You both got home an hour or two later, still panting and dripping with sweat from your lifts.

"That was sick, bro," he said, peeling his wet shirt off and bouncing his pecs in the mirror.

"Yeah, I feel great," you said, starting to peel the muscle tee off. It was tight, even before your pump, like it had been clinging to you throughout your workout, warming your chest. Now, it was tight because your chest seemed a lot bigger.

"Chest day best day!" He inhaled deeply. "Ah, you smell that bro? I missed that smell. When me and my twin would get back from the gym, this room would stink up in like 30 seconds and reek for days. Its been a while."

"Damn, it does reek in here," you said with a dumb laugh.

"Breathe it in. That's the smell of hard work, bruh."

You both took a deep inhale, laughing. It was so good having a friend to be a stupid guy with.

"Yeah, man," you said, finally managing to peel the shirt off. Your chest looked huge, wide, and puffy. Almost exactly like his... that was... weird....but they looked so... so... good... just like your shoulders you'd hit that day... and your back.... your lats looked like... like wings... wings..... flight.... wasn't there something you were supposed to do with a fligh-

You let out a gasp that turned into an "ahhhhhh" as he hit your sore muscles with the theragun. Part of you was realizing what was happening. You were still smart- somewhere in there. You were... you were somehow turning into him, literally. You tried to think about how, but it hurt. All the blood your brain was used to was flowing into your shoulders and chest as he massaged them. Thinking felt... bad... but... what was in the mirror looked... good.... yeah. You looked fucking good, like this. Yo.... you looked so good haha. Thinking.... bad.... lifting.... good... blood in... muscles.... not in.... brain.... lift.... more... get... sexier.

You felt energy surge through you again. Instinctually, you flexed in the mirror the way he did in the morning, grunting and scrunching your face. Toned muscle bulged under your skin as more and more blood and oxygen left your brain and poured into your muscles. You looked big, but you still felt small. You needed to get bigger... it felt.... urgent... like any time you spent not working out was time wasted. Your thoughts faded as he moved the theragun over you and your chest. It almost was like an exact replica of his.

Your eyes moved to him.

Gym.... bro.... love my.... gym.... bro.... love my..... bro.... wanna.... workout.... with my... bro

"Yo, it's still pretty early bro. You think we could lift again tonight, after dinner?"

"That's what I'm talkin about man," he said, slapping you on the back. "Love seeing you finally motivated to get in the gym and work on yourself."

"Feels great, dude," you said, hitting another pose in the mirror, staring at your muscles. Bigger.... need to.... get.... bigger...

"I told ya so."

"I know. I should've listened earlier. You're so smart, man."

"Haha, thanks man. Lets go get our protein in so we can get out there again. I'll go make our shakes. You shower first man- you stink," he said with a laugh.

"Haha," you said, lifting your pit and taking a big whiff of it. You did reek, but it smelled good, in a way. Like a sign of your hard work.

"Damn bro. I'm gonna need a gas mask in here," he joked, laughing as he walked out.

You laughed back. Joking with your bro was the best. You got into the shower, feeling all the new muscle in your body move under your skin. Feeling its power. The hot water just exacerbated it. You felt big- strong- but needed to get bigger- stronger- the thought was constant.

But- this wasn't... you?

You didn't... care about this stuff.

No.

This was all wrong. What were you doing lifting, focusing on superficial shit like this? What were you doing hanging around with this idiot? No- you had to get out of here. You'd be polite to him, but as soon as you got out of the shower, you'd book a flight for the next day. Enough of this! You'd been getting swayed by a pretty boy being nice to you, and it needed to stop.

He came in with the protein shakes just as you got out of the shower.

"Here you go man," he said, handing it to you. "Gave you a little extra," he said with a wink. Your glass had a little more in it than his did.

"Thanks dude," you said, putting it down. Fuck him and his protein shakes! "I'll have it in a minute. I just remembered I need to look up flights."

"You should really drink it first," he said, handing it back to you. "It's best to drink it as soon as possible. You don't wanna stay small, do you?"

Small? Small? No- never small- big- need to be big- big- huge- need- protein-

"Fuck no," you said suddenly, and before you could stop yourself you were grabbing it and gulping it down. It tasted good. Creamy. Really creamy.

"Damn that's good," you said, cheersing with him when he finished his. It was like you could feel the protein seeping through your body, repairing you. It felt so good. You felt confused, though.

"Yo, was I about to do something?" you asked.

"Yeah man. We were gonna do our meal preps for the rest of break. I'm so glad you decided to spend break here to focus on working out instead of going home with your family," he said.

"Huh? No, no, something with my phone..."

"Yeah man, remember? You were gonna tell your family you weren't gonna make it home this year. You really wanted to see them, but you didn't wanna waste a whole month away from your gym bro when you could be learning from me & making gains. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah yeah," you said. That made sense. Why else would you be here "Hell yeah man! Three solid weeks of nothing but lifting with my bro. No stupid classes or reading to distract us from what matters."

"Exactly man," he said, "C'mon, lets go make our meals for the week. Chicken broccoli and rice city!" You did, then headed to the gym.

You did legs this time.

"Just remember," he said as you got under the squat rack.

You nodded vacantly, feeling your mind slowly emptying again of everything except those three words. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.... Up ... And.... Down....

The next thing you knew you were grunting and dripping sweat as you boosted the 6 plates on your last rep up. Your legs were throbbing, bulging, and felt amazing. They looked bigger already, and you'd only done 4 sets of one exercise. He nodded approvingly.

You both got back from the 2nd round at the gym a couple hours later, scarfing your meals down out of your microwavable meal prep trays.

"Yo, did you see all those pussies on the treadmill staring at us?" you laughed.

"Of course man," he said, laughing back. "That's all they can do," he said as he flexed his huge, pumped muscles. "Stare and wish they were us."

"Feels good," you said, scarfing down your food. Both of you ate like pigs, spilling rice and shredded chicken all over your laps and the sides of your mouths. He went to get your protein shakes, and came back a few minutes later, once again with yours a little bit more full and creamy than his. Extra supps, he told you. When you were done, you cracked open the six pack his Dad had bought for you guys and started slamming them down while watching Family Guy, both laughing dumbly every couple minutes at it. You used to hate this show... but it was so funny! You'd just never given it a chance.

About 2 hours later, with empty beer cans strewn all around the room, you guys decided to get to bed. He went into the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and whipping his dick out to take a long, hot piss in the toilet. His eyes flickered over to your toothbrush, and he smiled. Grabbing it, he dropped it in front of his stream of piss, making sure to soak it thoroughly before putting it back in the holder.

You came in once he was done and started brushing your teeth. Your toothbrush felt warm and tasted kind of funny, thank you, fuck it. You instinctually swallowed it as the taste hit your tongue, sucking it deep in to your stomach. It felt like your stomach was rumbling, then tightening, then pushing out, then tightening again. When you were done brushing your teeth, you lifted your shirt up to reveal a nice set of toned abs just like his. You smiled. Damn, he was a really good coach.

You stared into the mirror, reflecting on how much you'd changed over the last few days. You smiled dumbly, hitting pose after pose in the mirror. In pretty much everything but your face, you looked just like him now. Your arms were thick and corded, your pecs sat nice and high, your legs were ripped, stomach shredded. Even your feet had gotten bigger, going from a size 8 to a size 13, just like his, and you'd grown a few inches, too. Wait... taller? You didn't get taller from the gym...

...

...and why were you his exact height?

You threw open the bathroom door.

"Yo, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean, bro? Chill."

"Nah man. Are you like, turning me into you or some shit? This isn't cool, bro," you said, struggling to talk like how you used to, before "bro" and "man" and "bruh" were every other word?

He smiled. "Into me? Of course not. You could never be me. But I am making you into my twin brother, bro. Haha."

"Well it stops now, weirdo. I'm outta her-"

He grabbed your arms, pulling them towards your head, forcing you to flex. You let out a moan as blood pumped out of your brain, into your sore muscles. It felt so good. So warm... so.... relaxing. But, no, you had to leave – he turned you towards the mirror, showing you your reflection as you flexed. You gave a dumb smile at the hunk staring back at you, at all your hard work- no, he wasn’t gonna get you like this again---

"Just look at yourself, bro," he said slowly massaging your thick traps. Waves of heat flowed over you- no– you had to- leave. He bent down, lifting your leg onto the ball of your foot. Your thick calf muscles contracted, stealing more blood from your brain, pumping more down into your body. It felt so good after a long workout. So good. So waaaaarm, you thought while he bent you into pose after pose like his mannequin and you stared in awe at what you'd become. You were.... hot.

"You’re telling me you don’t like this, bro? That you'd rather be a little nerdy bitch like before?"

It– it felt so… Good... you looked so… Good... you look like… Someone you would’ve thirsted after for months before .. you... loved it. It felt good. Before you knew it, he'd taken his brother's chain off the dresser and fastened it around your neck.

Your mind instantly blanked as he did it. What the fuck were you thinking? Leaving? When he was fucking turning you into a god for free? What kinda ungrateful piece of shit loser was the old you? Nah, he wanted nothing to do with that shit. You were lucky to be here.

"I was gonna wait until we were done to do this to you, but since that nerd in you has so much fight apparently, we can just get it over with now. It doesn’t really matter," he said.

"You want to act like a fag? I’ll treat you like a fag, boy," he said grabbing your head and rubbing it against his bulge. His big. Warm.. bulge... Your eyes glazed even more. "That's right, broski. Tell me how you really feel."

He was fucking sexy. You tried to lie to yourself all year and tell yourself that you didn’t like him, that he was annoying, that he was an idiot. But still, you stared at him whenever you could, every time he'd come into the room with his towel... take a peek every time he was in his boxers. Pretended you didn’t like him and denied it. But you did. You hated the girls that he brought back to the room because you wished it was you in there, getting pounded out by him, or maybe you wished you were him, getting to be such a stupid fucking asshole and still getting all the ass you wanted. He must’ve felt like a king.

You suddenly realize'd that you said all this out loud. Your mouth dropped open in surprise- but- how...

"Good, good. Now tell me, wouldn’t it feel nice if someone felt that way about you, boy?" Your eyes lit up.

"Me?"

"Yeah you. You’re going to be a God just like me boy. And I get the gym bro! Everyone wins."

You nodded slowly as he pulled his cock out, rubbing it against your face. Yeaaaaaah. Jock cock. You'd always loved jock cock when you'd been.... gay? No, you weren't gay... you'd never been gay. This was just bonding with your bro, haha.

Your tongue lapped up the precum off the tip of his dick. He shuddered, his cut, muscular hips thrusting instinctually. Your mouth opened just as automatically, sucking his cock. It felt so easy to hold yourself up with your new, big muscles as he pounded your mouth. His balls slipped out of his boxers, slapping you in the face as he thrust into you. They smelled great.

"Ahhhhhh yeah," he said, grabbing your hand and placing it on his tight ass. You gripped it, feeling the power from years of squats in it. "We got one more step left, broski. Tomorrow we're gonna put my facecream and gel on you and fix that busted face and wack haircut of yours. You’ll look just like me, bro. And you'll love it. I want that nerd inside of you watching while I snuff the last of him out- well, while you do it, really. He'd hate you so much, now," he said, pulling you off his dick and turning you towards the mirror again. "Look at you now, just a dumb jock big boy."

You smiled goofily in the mirror, flexing again at the sight of yourself. "Dumb jock big boy". The words resonated in your brain. Yeah, dumb jock big boy you thought, flexing harder. Hahaha. No- you weren't a jo- dumb jock big boy. Hahahaha. Yeah, you were just a dumb jock big boy- no- no- you were smar... just a dumb jock big boy. No matter what else you tried to think, it was the only thing your mind would land on. You flexed even more. You couldn't help it. Your body looked... so.... fucking... good. You felt like a ... man. Brutish. Powerful. You had muscles... big... muscles.... you couldn't stop staring... you fely so... powerful... needed... more powee. Needed... to get bigger. Needed... to be a msn not a cyck beta loser.

"That's it. Who's my dumb jock bro?"

"Me," you said proudly.

"I thought you were too good for that shit tho? Too smart?"

"Nah," you said.

"Damn boy, I trained you good."

"Yes. Showed me what matters. Need to get bigger," you said in a trance. Any resistance felt far away now. You couldn't really talk in complete sentences anymore. "Bigger. Stronger. More powerful."

"We will get you there, bro," he said, sliding your mouth back onto his cock. We're going to get you there, together. Plus, then we can be reeeeaaal bros! Like, bros for real. We can tell my parents my bro came back. You can just enroll in school and come back with me. It'll be like he never left. And you actually get to be something, instead of being a dumb nerd. Everyone wins!"

You nodded. Real bros. He was like your brother already, kinda. Yeah.

"I love you bro," you said.

"I love you to bro- ahhh- AHhhhhhh"

You felt his legs tense and back arch a little, and a blast of his cum shot down your throat, then another, then another. The necklace got hot around your neck as you swallowed them. You gulped each down, feeling your body absorbing them, feeling him seep into you, take you over, and crush any chance you had of turning back. Yeah. Good. You didn't want to turn back. You didn't want the nerd loser in you to take control. This was you now. You were in control.

He thrust into you a couple more times as you licked the last of his cum off his cock. He tapped the back of your head twice approvingly as you finished him off and slid his cock out of your mouth.

"See you in the morning, bro. You won't remember this part tomorrow. You'll just wake up, see my putting my moisturizer on and gel in, and come to do the same. Like I said, I want that nerd inside you watching while we complete your transformation, wanting to stop it, but unable to. Because this," he said, placing your hand on his bicep, and placing your other hand on your own bicep, "just feels too good."

You nodded dumbly. "I love you, bro" was all you could say.

"Love you too, bro. Goodnight!"

You woke up the next morning, just as he said, to see him putting the moisturizer all over his face and styling his hair. You walked over, asking him if you could use some. He looked so good. You just really wanted to use whatever he used.

"Sure thing, bro. What's mine is yours."

He passed it to you. You took a thick glob out, smearing it on your face. It tingles a little bit as you put it on, like the shaving cream head. Part of you was yelling, no, that you didn't like this, that you wanted to keep your old life, that you didn't want to be his twin and give up everything you had, but that voice was quiet now. It was drowned out by the demands of your big, hulking body, your shrinking brain, the testosterone pumping through you, and the burning desire you know how to get bigger and look good, constantly. The old you needed to go. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn't stop you from rubbing the cream in deeper and deeper. Had... to... look.... good... you thought as you ran a big glob of his white gel through your hair.

You both watched, smiling, as your face bubbled and changed and your hair lightened and shortened, perfectly matching his, erasing the final part of you. His brothers Your chain got hot around your neck as a bunch of his brother's your old memories floated into your head. All the details of his your life, everything you needed to know to convince his your parents that he'd you'd come back home.

"It's so great to have you back, bro," your roommate brother said. "I been so lonely at the gym," he said flexing in the mirror.

"Good to be back, bro," you said, hitting the same pose.

His real brother never did end up coming back. You lived happily ever after as a dumb jock big boy, hitting the gym with your bro everyday.

[goldensunset]

so i guess it didn’t occur to me but like. Yeah. even if the app is offline and only provides theater mode that’s still a real canon kingdom hearts entry. those cutscenes are part of the story. and that app is the official means by which those cutscenes are accessible. there’s youtube of course but that’s all the work of fans… without the uxdr app square enix is currently straight up not offering an actual official way to experience this story anymore. which is. really low. nintendo type move. and like. bad for an overarching story that relies on this and is only going to do so more and more…

i’m betting on this being the first symptom of square enix doing something new with this story in the future but for the time being it’s like. man that really reflects poorly… not that it’s even that irrational to take down an app that’s been dead for years now but what it does is bring to light how ridiculous it is that square enix hasn’t done anything else in that time. no announcement of a remake or other new means of making uxdr available, no warning about the app being removed, etc

not to sound like one of the mobile game saga haters but in the end. when you get practical with it. it really is unprofessional and far-fetched for game developers to expect the masses to get into a story that’s only accessible through a gallery of cutscenes on a mobile app. like i understand there are always gonna be casual fans who aren’t interested in every last side game ever (even if they’re wrong) but in general stuff like bbs and ddd or whatever we’re good at appealing to broader audiences. i think square enix really needs to face the reality that people want real and playable games and the rabid passion of us tumblr weirdos who will gladly watch hours of cutscenes isn’t enough to float their boat

like khux has been around for so long you’d think they’d have realized ‘hmm the cute little online pc/mobile game we made got popular and we expanded the lore a lot hmmmm maybe we should reconsider our initial choice if confining it to the realm of a cute little online pc/mobile game.’ it hurts my heart to hear people dissing the mobile games bc it’s done from ignorance of how good they are but i’m not mad at those people. they’re judging a book by its cover but like yeah some books have unappealing covers. i get it. not everyone will immediately see the hype. the khux superfan in me says skill issue they should try harder. the pragmatic person who wants the series to survive says square enix you gotta do something to appeal to the broader audience

and like only offering the thing in a mediocre form is bad enough but it’s even worse now if they don’t even let you have the thing at all. now it really is up to the fans to preserve this work of art? a set of crucial support beams for the entire mythos’ lore is being curated by youtubers doing this entirely out of passion? and square enix doesn’t see a problem with that? mannnn if you want to be taken seriously as a storyteller. provide access to your stories. ideally make it a good and widely popular type of access but at least do something. nintendo type of move smh . as long as they don’t go full nintendo and start striking down people who upload it online

[readerwithsalt]

I think Hazel should’ve gone with Nico instead down to Tartarus. Without a prophecy or quest bc Nico and Hazel don’t play by the rule book.

Then we could’ve gotten an adorable underworld sibling bonding book with both of them hilariously being unaware of modern stuff. And telling each other stuff they’ve learned.

They ditch both of their boyfriends who are freaking out because they don’t know where they snuck off to. And since Nico said in HoH that when he and Hazel shared power that anything felt possible, they truly believe they can succeed.

(Also Hazel understands death and wouldn’t be complaining every five seconds like Will was. Maybe it would’ve been more original and less percabeth 2.0 (but worse)

It begins with Nico leaving Camp Jupiter, having visited Hazel (for what he believes could be the last time) and telling Will he would be back in a week or so. A lie Nico tells to keep his boyfriend from coming after him to Tartarus (way more in character of him lol) as he believes a child of Apollo would easily be snuffed out down there.

Nico realizes he’s throwing a good possible future away by sneaking out to do this, but the nightmares have become so twisted and unbearably disturbing that he fears he’s going to lose his mind either way if he doesn’t manage to find the person calling out his name every night.

He also doesn’t like when others are left behind.

Since Will has insisted Nico not use shadowtravel to get back to New York from California, Nico says he’s going to take the train instead.

But Hazel KNOWS someone is off. Knows Nico is hiding something. Something that causes her brothers eyes to tinge red when he hugs her, gives her a wobbly goodbye, and squeezes just a bit too tight. Something that causes the paper thin smile he gives her when she sees him off to board his train.

Something that inexplicably makes her sneak onto that train behind him.

Upon Nico putting his stuff away in the closet of his train compartment and finding a head of cinnamon brown curls say ‘ouch’ when he accidentally throws his suitcase on top of a stowaway sister, being mad is a bit of an understatement…

When Hazel knowingly questions why he’s so upset at her, Nico suddenly has no words.

They eat in the trains dining room, Chinese noodles with strangely large fortune cookies that they save for later.

Hazel doesn’t manage to get anything out of Nico as they sit side by side next to a window, watching the world whoosh by and making idle chatter that Nico only seems to be half heartedly replying to. Seeing her brothers zoned out gaze, thin hands shaking slightly, the ever present tinge of red and fear ringing his large dark eyes, Hazel knows this is something more than wrong.

If the bravest demigod she’s ever met looks this terrified, to her it can only mean one thing.

Her suspicion is proven correct when her and Nico crack open their fortune cookies from dinner and instead of a thin piece of white with a generic quote on the paper… two small black parchments with gold lettering come out instead.

Two warnings. From what god? They don’t know.

Hazel’s questioning dies on her tongue when she sees the thin lines of tears falling from her brothers eyes. She doesn’t ask him anything else that night, just wraps a hug around him as frail shoulders shake in her arms.

The next day Nico acts as if nothing happened and asks her if frank knows she’s okay which she sheepishly replies that he probably doesn’t even know where she is. Nico says the same about Will, and they decide to not tell their current boyfriends anything yet.

Yet…. After the incident of last night and the fortune cookie parchment mentioning a place that hazel has definitely heard of before, she knows exactly what Nico is planning.

And she’s not letting anything happen to him as long as she’s alive. Even if Nico insists on pretending Hazel doesn’t know anything.

After the long train ride and Nico questioning this one random passenger for an hour about the strange gaming device in his hands (a Nintendo lol) and the siblings chatting about mundane things happening in their camps; they finally are in Manhattan.

Hazel is now done with letting Nico pretend.

Before she can get a word out the word ‘No’ has already passed her brothers lips. They fight. Their first actual fight ever. One that ends in sobs wrecking through Nicos body and pangs of guilt, sadness, and anger piercing Hazels heart.

But one thing rises above them all:

Protectiveness.

After making up and Nico realizing Hazels not ever going to back down given the look in her eyes, he realizes he doesn’t have a say in this. She is coming with him whether he likes it or not. Fear plummets in his stomach.

After a trip to Target for food and supplies for the trip that neither of them currently want to think about because what they are planning to do is… insane. Literally insane. But as Nico remembers that feeling of the time he and Hazel shared their power that one time, a thread of hope starts to weave in his heart. Psychotic hope, but still hope nonetheless.

They shadowtravel to Central Park, Nico not feeling nearly as woozy with Hazels help. He also delightfully finds out that coffee seems to cure the fatigue from using that side of his powers lol.

They manage to open the doors of Orpheus’ by ‘borrowing’ a guys phone as they see him jog by, and play some random song called ‘into the dark’ (by death cab for cuties lol) from the guys playlist holding it up to the opening.

The song sounds like another warning. They both ignore it.

They travel down dark steps, hands clasped. They talk in the quiet empty smelling air, comfortable in the underground silence. Until faint light hits their faces. The ever constant line of fresh souls lead them to Charons boat where they are taken to the land of the dead.

They now must avoid detection from their father at all costs. Nicos not worried about Charon tattling on them to Hades since he doesn’t get paid enough anyway (lol). Nico takes Hazel to meet the trogs new home down in the underworld (one thing I liked in tsats).

Hazel adores them and their funny outfits.

The trogs tell Nico that his ‘really deep tunnel’ he requested they dig is almost done, and Hazel is hurt that Nicos been planning this so long without telling her or anybody. They make Nico and Hazel spend the night with them before they go and they play with the baby trogs and dance together, trying to forget what they’re going to do tomorrow. They fall asleep to the sound of baby trogs giggling next to them.

The next day Nico attempts to sneak away from Hazel one more time and Hazel explodes at him. Anger making her say some things she doesn’t want to and Nico apologizing profusely but saying he’s angry at himself for allowing her to come with him.

They are interrupted by the trogs leader saying the Tunnel Into the Dark is finished. They can feel the intense suction of The Pit even from several feet away. Memories of the first time Nico was sucked down threaten to spill over and embarrassingly makes him want to run and hide somewhere.

But he feels Hazels hand in his and that strange, wonderful feeling of intense power. And love. And then they are straddling a boat the trogs pull from the river of forgotten dreams (the Styx I think) and with one final push… they are falling.

On the boat it feels like they’re floating.

They fall for a very long time. But Nico notices it’s not as long as the first time. Or maybe it doesn’t feel that long bc someone is here beside him.

They use their shared geokinisis powers to make an enormous slide of bones, black dirt, and stone.

When the boat hits the ground Nico almost gets flung face first into the Phlegethon river. They drink from it and begin the search.

They devastatingly find out the voice was never Bob bc Bob was absorbed into tartarus’s breastplate (like in actual canon HoH) but that it was something else entirely.

Something that makes Nico perhaps the angriest he’s ever been.

They find Jason’s soul down there. Something that shocks both Nico and Hazel to the core. Nico thinks it’s a trick but soon can tell that the soul that is looking at him so coldly and unfamiliar is actually Jason.

A different Jason. One with hatred illuminating every thread of his form.

That’s why Nico didn’t know where Jason’s spirit had gone. It had been intercepted by something and Jason has turned into a mania like his mother. A spirit that fumes on hatred and forgotten dreams. The one thing he never wanted to be.

Nico cries over the horrid inevitable fate of Bob and promises that he will ALWAYS be remembered. He doesn’t have much time to think on this though because right now a livid son of Jupiter is rising higher and higher above Nico and Hazel, the threat is obvious.

In Jason’s manic state he blames Nico for not checking on him and seeing that he got a peaceful afterlife and greives the fact that Piper and Leo and Nico ‘never bothered’ to attend his funeral. He blames the gods, his father especially, for being unworthy of their demigod children. He blames the underworlds justice system not following up on his missing soul and dismissing his entire life as if it was nothing.

As if he was never a hero. Never anything at all.

Nicos is crushed, but realizes that Jason’s being manipulated by something. A dream demon that wanted to trap Nico the entire time in order to consume his energy/power and shadow travel out of his prison and into the mortal world bc it would’ve taken him years to get out otherwise.

The dream demon used its powers to intercept Jason’s soul thanks to Caligulas cursed blade that had killed him, and reached inside his mind to find out about Nico and figure out the best way to get Nico to come back to his worst nightmare.

And now that Hazel and Nico are both there that’s double the power to consume.

Turns out the entire thing was simply about a selfish monster playing with demigods. A tale as old as the beginning of mythology.

The demon taunts them saying he used Jason - son of the King of the Gods - as a little toy in order to easily bring his meal to him. Remarking how easy and quick it was to bait someone like Nico.

Someone who can never leave someone behind.

And Hazel, how easy it was to get her to follow her brother. Taunting that she’s just as stupid, gullible, and selfless…

The children of the underworld snap.

And all Hades breaks loose. Signaling to every monster within a 100 mile radius to know exactly where they are.

They battle together but the waves and waves of monsters is just too extreme. On the brink of inevitable death, a certain goddess appears.

The one who gave them the warnings in the form of fortune cookies. The one that sensed Nicos need for vengeance.

They escape with Nemesis help, but she wants something equally valuable in return for helping Nico and Hazel escape. Nico breaks down and agrees to relinquish all of his precious memories of Bianca and his past life in return for Hazel and a new possible future. A true balance in his heart.

Choosing Hazel over memories of Bianca makes Hazel cry and they bond stronger.

Strangely enough Nico becomes happier without the constant grief of his older sister on his shoulder.

In a way choosing to let her go the same way she did when she chose to be with the hunters.

And then once again when she chose reincarnation.

They still have to worry about Jason though who is constantly causing blood thunderstorms across Tartarus’s sky and wrecking havoc all over the place.

(Also it would be so funny to see Jason literally just… chase Nico and Hazel all over the place… flying after them screaming while they run for their lives bc they can’t see or hear due to the bloodstorm & huge booms of thunder and shit lol.)

Hazel manages to trap Jason in a kaleidoscope of his own storm and shadow with her mist magic and her and Nico manage to shadowtravel him to the ghostly boat that will lead them out. She lets him out but he’s struggling so much in his metal binds that Nico has to knock him out with a punch to the face bc he’s the only one that can touch ghosts.

They ferry up the river Acheron out of Tartarus and chat about what the fuck just happened down there.

Hades awaits them when they arrive.

He’s very angered that his two only living children disobeyed his strict order of not going down there, but relinquishes it eventually when he realizes how tired and beat up his kids look and praises them instead. Hades turns to Nico and states that his older sister would be proud of him. Which Nico replies with confusion saying he doesn’t have an older sister which saddens hades as he figures out what Nico had to give away.

He offers them both something they want.

Anything.

Hazel wishes for Jason to be cured of his mania, and Nico wishes to give Jason back a chance at life. As he still had so much work to do for the gods and goddesses that did not have shrines and action figures to respect them.

Both of these things surprise hades but he grudgingly does so (bc Jason is a son of Jupiter/zeus) saying that Nico and Hazel are indeed very special children.

Although Hades honors Nicos wish he can’t simply let a soul leave the underworld without a final test (hazel being the exception) and does something he did thousands of years ago with another hero begging for his wife’s soul back.

He tells Nico and Hazel they can lead Jason out of the underworld but only if they don’t look back at him. Across the fields of asphodel, across cerebus’ cavern, across the river styx, the journey on Charons boat, back up the many steps that lead to the mortal world…. If they look back once their friend is gone forever. Again…

They distract themselves with a deck of mythomagic cards Hazel stole from Frank (cause she wanted to know why her brother and boyfriend liked the game so much) much to Nico’s embarrassed delight. Nico’s so into explaining the game to Hazel, that the intense need to check if Jason’s still behind them dissipates a bit.

They only notice they’re outside when a wave of sunlight blinds them both and a large figure grabs them from behind.

Jason hugs the daylights out of Nico & Hazel crying like a little kid as months of memories of torment in Tartarus resurface into guilt.

Hades thinks it’s slightly amusing to see a tall muscular son of Jupiter being consoled by his two smaller children as he mentally watches the scene play out from his godly throne.

Nico says he kept the plans of the shrines Jason wanted to build and says maybe he can help with decorating (lol)

I’m gonna have to get an artist to draw a fancomic of this to heal my soul.

Also…. What the fuck did I just write?

[softtdaisy]

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try  

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love. 

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky. 

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend. 

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.” 

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone. 

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling. 

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you. 

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing. 

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that. 

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly. 

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!” 

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.” 

[neochan]

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is just a mere side story / prologue of sorts <3

PAIRING. jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS. the first time you meet na jaemin, he steals your favorite midnight snack and follows you home...well, not exactly.

WC. 1k

A.N. let's give some background to how mc and jaemin met for the first time

The boy with the pink hair was kind of an asshole.

“I found them first!” he whines, clutching the last bag of your favorite chips against his chest. His eyes were the size of saucers, mask hanging haphazardly off of one ear. His hair, a bright shade of bubblegum pink, curled underneath his earlobes.

He was a bit taller than you, but if you time it right, you could (in theory) snatch the chips out of his hands, throw your money on the counter and run out of the store.

“Don’t even think about.” He deadpans.

You knew the convenience store housed some weird people at this hour, but you didn’t realize they could read minds, “I’m not thinking anything.”

He nods his head, “Good. Then if you’ll excuse me…” he tries to slide past you, but you grab onto his hoodie.

“Please! I need those chips. They’re my favorite, and my roommate ate all my other ones.”

It wasn’t fair. All you wanted was a midnight snack, but of course your roommate, Jennie, had to eat all of your chips and then leave the empty bag in the cupboard waiting for your discovery.

With your hand fisting his hoodie, he stumbles back, “Look lady, that’s not my issue. Just go to another store.”

Exasperated, you throw your hands up into the air, “The only other one open this late is a mile away!”

“Then get a taxi!” His nose scrunched up when he spoke. It was honestly kind of cute.

You smile sweetly, “How about you get a taxi, and give those chips to this poor damsel in distressed.”

“Damsel? You about nearly ripped my hoodie when you grabbed onto it!?” he was obviously joking, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.

“Please!” the last thing you wanted to be doing at one in the morning was begging a stranger for chips, yet here you were.

He holds the bag behind his back, “I’m not giving them to you.”

The lady behind the counter looks up in your direction, but quickly buries her nose back into her book in an uninterested manner.

“I’ll give you ten bucks.” You reach into your pocket and pull out a wad of cash.

“Okay first of all, it isn’t safe running around with that cash on your person.” He remarks, “And second, I found them first,” he throws a hand out in your direction, “Now move so I can check out and enjoy them.”

You put your hands on your hips and spread your legs so that you were blocking the aisles exit, “No.”

“I don’t even know you man, just move!” Maybe if he gently pushed you out of the way? No, that wouldn’t work. You were causing a scene as is. That would just make it worse.

“I’ll – I’ll call the cops!” you blurt out.

He stares at you for a minute and then erupts into a belly laugh, doubling over and crushing the chip bag in the process. You nearly screech when you hear the crunch of the chips being broken into bits.

“Call the cops? For entering a store and buying a bag of chips?” tears were forming in his eyes and he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Well… no. not exactly” you grumble.

You fold your arms against your chest in defeat, “I hope you know you’re ruining my life right now.”

He reaches out and pats your shoulder condescendingly, “I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

You watch him walk past you, and sigh. There go your precious chips. The last bag in the store. The last bag probably ever. Your mood turns sour as you head to the next aisle over, hoping to find an alternative.

“I’ll be damned.” you gasp.

Sitting on the shelf in plain sight, right next to the snickers bars is the bright yellow bag that contains what your were just fighting over. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You really made a fool of yourself over a bag of chips in front of some random cute boy, and there were some the next aisle over!

What even is my life, you think.

When you walk up to the checkout, you realize the pink haired boy had left.

“Find everything okay?” the clerk asks, ringing up your snack.

“Yeah.” She had heard the whole argument, so why was she even asking?

She hands you your change and the receipt, “Here, this is from the guy you were talking with.” She presses a torn edge of notebook paper into your hand.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” Heat creeps up your spine.

“Yeah, no problem, have a good night.” She waves when you walk out of the door and onto the empty street.

The walk home was silent. No one was out this late since it was a school and work night. You reach your dorm building and begin climbing the stairs.

You unfold the piece of paper and scribbled in messy ink, it says, ‘Sorry I took your chips :/ I promise to enjoy them. Here’s my number if you want to have another midnight argument. 555 – 555 – 5555’.

You’re smiling like an idiot, not paying attention when you walk directly into someone, slamming against their chest and dropping your chips on the ground.

“Shit, sorry!” Looking up, you see the familiar pink hair of the convenience store guy, “Ah come on! No way!”

“Okay, you ran into me!” he says, bending down to retrieve your snack, “looks like you found another bag of chips though.”

You huff in embarrassment, “So what. Why are you standing outside of my dorm room?”

“Your dorm?” He looks to where you’re staring, “ No fucking way.” A shit eating grin plasters itself on his lips.

He points to the door across from yours, “I live there.”

“This would only happen to me, I swear.” You rub your tired eyes with one hand.

“I wasn’t stalking you; I promise. My roommates locked me out.” Annoyance flashes behind his eyes, “they won’t be back for a few more hours and I don’t have a spare key, so I was going to sit outside.”

You can’t believe the words that rolled off of your tongue so easily, but by time they were out, you couldn't take them back, “Come on, you can stay with me until they get back. My roommates not home.”

Maybe you’d get used to the boy with pink hair.

A.N. the timeline for this fic is set during the end of freshman year!

[traumasurvivors]

I don't think people talk enough about how sharing your story of any kind of abuse is so brave, I would love it if people realized how much it takes

It is absolutely so brave!

I think talking about it is important (only for those that want to - I don't mean everyone has to and is somehow failing if they don't.).

"There are many reasons people may make survivors feel they shouldn’t talk about their trauma. Survivors who talk may be told they are “attention seeking” or that “real survivors don’t talk about it.” Some may say that they are “ruining the mood” and “making everyone sad.” People might argue that they “should be over it by now.”

Some people may say “it’s too hard to hear about” or claim that the assailant has a “promising future” that may be “tainted” by sharing what they did. The pressure to stay silent can be even worse if the one who traumatised someone is a friend or family member of those who might be listening, or is in some way a public figure or celebrity. These are only some of the many reasons there is a stigma on talking about trauma, both in personal relationships and in society as a whole - and all of that can happen even if the person listening believes the survivor and doesn’t consider them to blame for what happened.

For me, I talk about trauma because a lot of my followers tell me that it makes them realize they aren’t alone, which makes them feel heard and validated. I’ve also been told that people have felt less shame, guilt or like it wasn’t their fault from reading some of my personal posts and experiences. And that means a lot to me. When I wrote my book, it felt healing to me. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder. On some level, it felt like accepting what had happened to me and beginning to learn to live with it in a way that was less painful.

The stigma surrounding talking about trauma is harmful. Pushing survivors to stay silent reinforces feelings of shame and allows perpetrators to remain hidden. This can cause survivors to feel more alone and it can make it more difficult and isolating to navigate healing from trauma. Telling survivors they “shouldn’t talk about it” or pushing blame on them can allow perpetrators more freedom to do harmful things. Having a more open dialogue is a good thing for so many reasons and on so many levels.

No trauma survivor should ever be pressured or forced to talk about what they went through. But we need to work to remove the stigma from talking about it, so that if and when a survivor wants to talk about it, they feel like they are free to do it. And that starts on a personal level - by doing our best to not make others feel a stigma about talking about trauma (such as by avoiding making comments about news stories on what a survivor “should have done” after their trauma), and by listening and giving comfort to someone if they want to talk to us about it (if we are in a place where we can handle hearing about things), without expectations or judgement.

"

^ That is from my article "The Stigma of Talking About It." And kind of sums up on my feelings on all of it

[slytherinsrule89]

Hmmm what about a dark riddle brothers x reader non con ? Something like the reader is their enemy . Maybe you can put reader as Harry's gf or sister and they both get enraged by you so they "form a plan" to show you your place and also weaken Harry 🤭🤭

Okay I went a little off closer to the end I think but hopefully it’s still good :)

This does contain smut and other sensitive things so please be aware and don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable

Riddle brothers x reader

Word count: 1639

You had been an enemy of the Riddles for as long as you could remember. They were cruel and disgusting and you despised every inch of the two brothers. The feeling was mutual as well, they hated you just as much as you hated them.

Being a Potter was pretty much the main reason they detested you. Along with you pissing them off about anything and everything because you knew that they hated you and could use it to your advantage.

You had been on your way to class, almost running there because you were late. Going to be even later when you accidently ran into two people, causing you to fall straight down a groan leaving your lips.

“Merlin’s sake wha-oh of course it’s you two.” You rolled your eyes in disgust, grabbing your books and picking yourself up as the Riddles practically towered over you. “God Potter, can you be any more pathetic?” Mattheo scoffed, shoving you aside.

Tom hadn’t said anything yet but with the look he was giving you, you’d be surprised that you aren't dead yet.

“Right like you two could say anything, you’re the most pathetic of them all.” Mattheo only laughed. The insults went back and forth between you and Mattheo before Tom stepped in which startled you a bit.

Tom didn’t often get into these little bickering’s and most of the time watched with distaste, so when he did it was better to make a run for it.

But being the ever so proud Gryffindor you took a step closer, now standing right in front of Tom. A gutsy move proven by the way Tom had raised a brow at you, almost daring you to make another move.

You could sense the latent hostility between all three of you. It was a matter of who would strike first. Of course that person was Mattheo, considering he could never keep his mouth shut in situations like this with a lot of tension.

“Oh please Potter, you’re absolutely worthless. The only reason people actually talk to you is because your brother’s popular. Get it through your head that you are nothing.”

His words were ruthless and meant to hurt you deeply. Instead of getting upset though you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke.

“I’ve been called far worse by much better men. So I’d think again about who really is the worthless one here Riddle.” You walked off right after that sentence. Not really because you were scared but because the professor was going to kill you for being this late.

It hadn’t occurred to you how much that sentence would infuriate the Riddle brothers though and you continued on your day like nothing had even happened that morning.

The problem was that the brothers were anything but calm. They were hatching a plan at that very moment to get back at you. And if it was punishment from them that you’d be expecting, don’t think mercy will be given.

You had gone to bed early that night after such a long day. First being late, then being later from the encounter with the Riddles, your Professor hounding you about it as well because it wasn’t the first time you’ve been late.

So really you were exhausted and fell asleep quite quickly.

After what felt like the longest sleep of your life, you move to get out of bed. Only to realize…you weren’t even in a bed. Your eyes shot open after what felt like a small caress on your cheek. And there meeting your eyes, Tom Riddle.

He was crouched down looking at you with interest while you stared back in horror. What the hell had happened last night? How did you end up here?

All these questions had swarmed your mind, riddling your body with anxiety and trepidation. Tom had noticed this and only smirked at you an eerie feeling sinking in your stomach.

“Hello little dove” His voice was smooth and calm. A voice so solely his that you could never mistake it for another’s.

You had begun to look around much later than you should have but something in Tom’s eyes made it so alluring not to look away. The things you noticed were blood curdling.

You saw chains wrapped around your ankles and wrists. Curtains were open but only darkness could be seen, making you wonder what was really out there. And from how cold it was you could make a guess that you were in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

But it certainly didn’t seem like the slytherin dorms were anywhere near here which only unsettled you more. Just then the door made a creaking noise and in entered Mattheo with that cocky smile of his.

“Poor little Potter doesn’t look like she has much to say now does she?” He was right unfortunately but you don’t think you’ll ever admit to that.

It was suddenly that Tom had gripped your jaw in his hand and turned you back to him making that fear come back in a sudden pulse.

“Listen here little dove. The words that came out of your little mouth this morning is something you are going to regret for a long long time. And we are going to make sure of it.”

I was sure I was going to pass out right then. Their menacing eyes hadn’t looked away from mine at all and I only wished I’d known when to shut up and move on instead of running my mouth like I did. Especially with these two.

Tom's grip got tighter making me want to cry. Apparently Mattheo was good at reading expressions because he picked up on that quickly and crouched down beside his brother.

“You gonna cry pretty?” His tone was teasing. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was working too.

Though when I was least expecting it I felt Tom’s other hand glide against my leg before gripping my thigh roughly. He’d definitely have me pinned down if it wasn’t for the chains already there.

“Here’s the deal.” Tom began. “We are going to punish you how we see fit and you…little dove are going to take whatever we give you. If you try to deny us, it will only get worse.”

Like any human being you started freaking out and trying to refuse barely registering that you were ignoring what he just said about things getting worse. Boy was that stupid.

The second the words went to leave your mouth Tom had moved the hand gripping your jaw and shoved two fingers into your mouth making you gag hard around his fingers.

“Absolutely pathetic. Can’t even listen to a word I say.” Tom kept his fingers in your mouth and removed the one from your thigh only for Mattheo to swoop in. He took his brother's spot while Tom moved to your side.

Mattheo quickly removed the chains and relief rushed through you. That was until you felt his rough hands begin to grope at your thighs being sure that there will be bruises by tomorrow.

Without hesitation Mattheo had ripped off your sleep shorts without a care as you gasped in shock. Though that only encouraged Tom’s fingers to go deeper in your throat as you tried desperately not to gag.

You felt more and more of Mattheos' hands as they grew more daring. Playing with the soft lace outline of your panties almost teasing you as if to say “guess my next move.”

If you didn’t know what feeling nervous felt like before you definitely knew it now. Not knowing their next move was probably the worst of it.

And that was about the only thing your mind was saying when Mattheo pushed a finger into your hole, panties pushed to the side, and a shocked expression on your face. Both of the boys were smirking at you as he continued to swiftly move his finger in and out quickly before adding a second.

You bit down on your lip ruthlessly when Tom had pulled his fingers out of your mouth so that you could conceal your moans and not give them the satisfaction of it.

As Mattheos fingers continued their assault to your pussy Tom had untied the chains on your wrists as well with you hardly knowing it. He sat behind you now pulling up your shirt and tossing it to the side. Almost groaning at the sight of your braless tits.

His hands were quick to play with your nipples, relishing in how soft and warm they were. Your mind was a buzz to say the least. Mattheo’s fingers pumping in and out of you, Tom’s fingers against your bare chest, as well as his mouth creating dark spots around your neck.

The rest was a blur and just like that you sandwiched between the two with both of them fucking you relentlessly. Mattheo had been lying on his on his back fucking up into your pussy as he had you straddling his waist.

While Tom on the other hand had been above you, his cock hitting from behind, moving their bodies in sink, making you just want to melt into them.

“G-Gonna..mhphhh.” You sputtered out. The pleasure to overwhelming for your mind to come up with a proper sentence. However Tom had helped you out. “Gonna cum for us little dove, gonna cum because of the people you hate?”

You nodded quickly as your moans increased. Your orgasm hit you like a truck as you practically screamed out against Mattheo’s shoulder. He was the next to cum, spilling it all in your sweet cunt. Tom following suit.

Just as you were finally beginning to relax they had both pulled out of you and flipped you on your back.

“Not so fast. We aren’t even close to finishing your punishment.”

Hope you enjoy 😊

[ikigaisvt]

seventeen as tropes – vocal unit

starring: jeonghan, joshua, jihoon, dokyeom & seungkwan + gn!reader / (mention of mingyu in dk's) words count: 3.5k in total (between 400 - 800 each, expect seungkwan's 1.3k..,,.,..,, dont comment on that pls) content: fluff, non-idol!au warnings: everything is soft tbh? skinship (cheek kiss, kissing, holding hands), teasing, pining, rivalry, shitty team mates/friends, crying, lots of blushing lmao, very very very very sappy note: seventeen as tropes has been sitting in my drafts since 2022 and i'm FINALLY letting it out,, i hope everyone enjoy it! i decided to post it by units or else the post would get Too long (i already went off on this one lmao) don't worry hhu unit and pfu unit is already in the making hehe >.< pls don't come for me if some members have more words than others! inspiration isn't going to be the same for every tropes so i hope everyone can keep that mind! minors can interact with this fic but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. ignore any mistakes pls my brain is Dead rn,,, pls enjoy this piece of mine and don't forget to leave a like/reblog/comment! mwah mwah mwah good reading~

Jeonghan: Blind date

Jeonghan never loses bets and everyone in his friend group knows that which is why no one ever makes bets with him. He is just an extremely lucky person and he can always get his way out of any situation; expect when the person he made a bet with is Joshua – I taught him too well, he thinks to himself. It’s all because of a lost bet that he finds himself going on a blind date on this Thursday afternoon. That was the bet – to go on a blind date with someone the other picked. To say he was nervous was an understatement. All he’s hoping for is that Joshua didn’t prank him and sent like Seungkwan as his date. That would be awkward, he thinks as he makes his way quicker to the café.

As for you? Well, here you are, waiting for Joshua’s friend in this new café that opened in the neighbor. You don’t really know what went through your mind when you agreed to this blind date; something about Joshua’s words, probably. He can be a bit too convincing at times, something he apparently learned from this special friend – Jeonghan. You’ve never met the guy but oh have you heard countless stories about him. You know he’s one of Joshua’s closest friends so maybe you won’t get a relationship out of this but you will be able to talk about Joshua’s weird antics – in hopes Jeonghan isn’t worse, somehow, than your best friend.

You’re lost in your thoughts when a voice softly calls your name. You look up to see the most beautiful man ever and he quickly introduces himself as Jeonghan, as he sits down in front of you. You don’t really notice how Jeonghan looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful human he has ever seen or how a slight blush creeps up on his ears. And Jeonghan doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks or how you slightly smile to yourself every time he tells you something. You two talk for hours; complaining about Joshua’s behavior – and you don’t let Jeonghan get away with turning him into a little devil, talking about how cute Sylvanian families are – he even shows you the ones he has, he rants about Legos, too, while he lets you tell him about that last book you read – something about a fae prince and a human falling in love. The staffs at the café breaks you both out of your conversation, letting you know they are closing in 10 minutes – it’s only when she comes around that you realize you are the only customers left. You quickly gather your stuffs, expecting to say goodbye to Jeonghan in front of the café but he naturally walks you back to your place. It’s when you’re leaned on your front door that he asks for your number – I thought he would never make a move, and he promises to see you soon before leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. It’s only when Jeonghan leaves you that he realizes luck was, once again, on his side.

Joshua: Coworkers

You’re very grateful for your coworkers at your new job. It’s only been a few months since you joined the finance team at this new company but everyone treats you like you have been part of the team for a long time. Everyone helps you out in new tasks, especially Joshua. Whenever you have to do something you aren’t used to, Joshua comes running to help you out and he cheers you up every time you have a hard time. You never really questioned how he acts as you always thought he was just being nice – as he is with anyone else. However, as your coworkers have known him longer than you, they know how you always get a special treatment from him; he makes you coffee when you start working and after lunch, he brings you your favorite chocolate, he prints out your folders for you and makes sure you always have your favorite pens working. His crush on you is known to everyone but you.

That all comes to light on a company dinner where Joshua special dots on you even in a restaurant far from work – he gets you food, fills up your plate and your glasses, lends you his jacket when you get cold and even offer to walk you home. All of these little attention gets him teased by your coworkers while you are still as oblivious as before. Joshua wears a profound blush on his ears all night but once again, you still don’t notice the pink tint of his ears (you honestly think it’s a cause of his drinking) and Joshua is entirely too happy about you being so clueless.

A few hours later he walks you home – as he promised. However, you surprise him by asking why everyone was teasing him back there. He stumbles on his words, the blush going to his cheeks until he finally admits it’s because he has a crush on you ever since you walked into the office on your first day. And now you’re the one with the blush, stuttering an answer – I like you too, but Joshua takes you by surprise by kissing you.

Jihoon: Acquaintances

You have known Jihoon since middle school; he was just always around in your group of friends and yet you didn’t know him at all. All you knew about him is that he liked music and as much as you thought he was nice, you never thought about making friends with him – if you didn’t all this time, why now? But when you’re in your first year of college, walking into your liberal arts class and you see only one familiar face – Jihoon’s, you walk up to him because it’s always good to know someone in every classes – to get notes or for future project.

So, you put on your best smile, sit down next to him – hope to god he remembers you – while starting to rant about how glad you are he’s here. However, all you’re met with is a blushing and stuttering Jihoon; “Sorry, I- uh- I forgot to water my dog- I mean, no- Forgot to give water to my dog! Bye!” before he runs out of the auditorium. It’s an understatement to say you are confused about his behavior, hoping he doesn’t secretly hate you – and is currently at the college’s administration to beg for a transfer. He’s cute, after all.

Next week, you are standing in front of the door of that same auditorium wondering if you’re going to find Jihoon in there. You don’t give yourself time to run away, pushing the door open and promising yourself to try and make a friend in this class today. You sit down, not trying to find Jihoon among the students. You didn’t even finish pulling out your laptop that the chair beside you is pushed back – Someone sat down next to me! – and you look to see who your new best friend is, only to see Jihoon looking at you, smiling. He greets you, asks you how your morning went before apologizing for last week – something about him being stressed. You let him know it’s alright – you can’t just hold grudges against him. And he’s cute today too. That’s how you two become friends after more than 10 years of being in each other’s life – or like background. And so, because Jihoon never feels like he apologizes enough, he does anything you ask of him for weeks: he buys you food, lends you his notes, makes you playlists but most importantly, when you ask to see his studio, he accepts.

On a Friday night, he picks you up and you two walk together to the studio, as you ask him about music – all these years, you always saw him with a guitar or humming songs and yet you never knew how it all started. And so, he answers all your questions, he talks, again and again, he tells you everything because it’s you. When you get to the studio, you walk around, touching every instrument, asking more questions while he sets up his computer. He goes out for a moment – letting you know you can play around on his computer – to pick up dinner at the fast food down the street. Of course, you take his offer, settling down on his chair and you open Youtube, play some songs before trying to make a simple track. It’s when you open his files to add one of his samples that you stumble across a file named after you; you can’t resist the urge to open it, finding songs after songs – Run to you, Darl+ing, Lean On Me, Adore U.

Jihoon comes in a few minutes after, the computer still shining with all these songs. And that’s when he knows – he knows he can’t hide it anymore, he knows all these years he spent at a distance from you can’t happen again, he knows he has to tell you. So, he tells you – he never talked this much in a night – he tells you he always liked you, he never forgot that first day he saw you in middle school, he explains how much he tried to not be in your life but he always felt himself be pulled in. He confesses that’s how he started music – because nothing but this could describe what he feels in his chest when you’re there. And you have tears in your eyes, you feel like your heart is going to implode from the love he gives you and you tell him; someway, somehow, your life has always felt empty when he was missing. When college came around you were scared you were never going to see him again. So, when you saw him, you knew this was destiny. You knew the world pulled strings for you two. (You spend the night at his studio, listening to every song he made for you while you two build a new world together.)

Dokyeom: Love at first sight/Meet cute

Dokyeom knows it; he’s in love. Okay, he hasn’t been in love before but he is pretty damn sure if love is something then it’s this; your chest tightens, you feel tingles in your stomach and you can’t stop looking at everything they do. That’s what he feels right now, when he sees you reading your book in that coffee shop.

He’s here with his best friend who tries so hard to get his attention but nothing can make him look away. I’m not being a weirdo, he reassures himself. You’re just so pretty, sitting there while reacting to that book – at one point, he saw tears pooling in your eyes – while you sip on your tea, your headphones on. You stay there, reading away while he watches you, then stops looking when he feels like you’ll notice him but he finds himself looking at you soon enough, never being able to really stop.

It's when you get up, making your way to the bathroom that he breaks from his daze – I need to get a grip. So, he focuses on his best friend’s rant, listening, actually answering his questions. But when he misses you, he looks back to your spot only to find it empty, only your book left behind. He gets up immediately and make his way to your spot, not even caring about Mingyu’s complaint. He picks up your book – Me Before You, he reads – and hurriedly makes his way out of the café. As he looks around, trying to find you, he notices you at the end of the street, a few meters away, waiting to cross the road. He runs up to you, not wanting to let you get away and as he gets to your level, he gets weirdly nervous; it’s not like he’s gonna make any move, right? He lightly taps your shoulder to get your attention. You turn around, a natural smile hanging on your lips as an answer. Dokyeom feels his heart beat faster right away and he knows it’s not even the nervousness, it’s you – Hi, uh- I- I was in that café, he starts as he points behind himself, I think that’s yours, he says as he holds out the book between the two of you. Immediately, you react, your face twisting in something between surprise and gratitude as you grab it and you never stop thanking him, again and again, asking him how you can repay him. Nothing, he answers, stars in his eyes knowing he will never be that close to the sun again, just- enjoy that book, okay? he finishes, turning around to go back to his best friend and his cappuccino. He walks slowly, almost as he expects you to catch up to him, almost as he wants you to – and he does. It’s when he pulls the door of the café open that he feels a light touch on his shoulder, his body reacting to you before his eyes can even see you. His lips pull up, his eyes shine again and he turns around, his heart reacting the same way again, before you extend a piece of paper between your bodies, stuttering; You forgot something too, the blush on your ears deepens, my number.

Seungkwan: Rivals

Seungkwan has always loved badminton; at this point, he talks about it so often, the whole school knows. Which you might be bitter about – only because you don’t like sharing something in common with him – but it’s only normal people do know about it; after all, he’s the captain of the boy’s badminton team. Now, what people of this school don’t know is that there is also a girl’s badminton team in the school – however, they are about to know. You have been leading the team so well, even though it has only been two years since it first got together, that you now get to share the court in your school’s sports hall to practice with your girls. Your coach – which is also the boy’s team, also lets you know that you’ll be meeting the other team every 2 weeks for friendly matches so the girls could improve in their skills.

It's the next day when you walk onto the court, already prepared for practice – you just need to take care of a few things as you are the team captain. Unfortunately, you stumble onto Seungkwan when you least expect it – you thought the team had classes at this time (not that you know his schedule, of course). Seungkwan doesn’t understand what you’re doing on his ground and he asks you to leave or else he will tell the coach – as if he had any kind of weight on her. Go tell the coach I’m here, go, you scoff at him, knowing she will only let him know what’s really going on. A few minutes later he comes back, the coach by his side, as he rolls his eyes at, probably, the thought of sharing anything with you.

And that’s how the rivalry between the two of you gets worse – if that was even possible. Your team meet every other day, practicing side by side and sharing laughter – expect you and Seungkwan. You both make your possible to annoy each other – you take the best spot first, you help the coach, you give advices to his team mates, you even go as far as to use him as something not to do on the field. On his side, he refuses to say your name, he keeps reprimanding your girls, he even says how even a toddler could play better than you and even go as far as to flirt with your team mate. Fortunately, even through all this fight with him, you and your girls train hard and your skills are rapidly improving. Time passes by so fast and it’s already time for your first match against the boys. You gather your team, let them know you believe in them and to not get intimidated by their playing – they are going to play hard and we need to hit back as much as them. It’s when Seungkwan sees you like this, so serious, so sure of yourself and so proud of your team, even when they lose points that he notices you in a different way. The way you burn with passion and yet how your eyes still shine with love when one of your team needs words of encouragement. He didn’t think he would ever feel like this but right now, you are distracting him from the match. And nothing, distract him from badminton.

The match is fierce, the room is burning with pride and want for the win; which the girls get. You cheer again and again, even the boys are congratulating your team – only Seungkwan doesn’t as he gathers his stuff and leaves first – which somehow, stings. You think it’s because his pride is hurt but it’s only because he can’t bear to see you anymore when he feels like this – heart fluttering, lips forming into a smile – at the sight of you.

The training keeps going after that win, the matches too; you keep annoying him and he does too, even though is comments are more helpful than anything; don’t do it like this, you’ll get hurt or even tell them to coordinate their moves, it will make them better – but you don’t notice, you only do the contrary of what he wants you to. The 5th match comes faster than any of you expect and you fight for the win with your team – you haven’t won these past 3 ones and it’s taking a toll on the team spirit – but the luck isn’t on your side when you sprain your ankle. The match stops as soon as you yelp, your team mates too surprised to react right away. Through the pain, you open your eyes when you feel a hand touch at your ankle delicately, trying to evaluate how hurt you are. You expect to see your coach but you meet a pair of brown worried eyes – Seungkwan. Are you hurt somewhere else? he asks softly, before turning around and telling everyone else to give you space, talk to me, please, he pleads, his big brown eyes fixed on your face. The after shock of the fall passes by as you stutter; why do you care? before asking for two of your team members to help to the infirmary – the coach letting everyone know the match is postponed, as you go through the door.

A few hours later you’re sat down on the cold bed, waiting for one of your friends to get out of class so she can drive you home – two weeks without walking and a month with no badminton, at least, the nurse told you earlier, but please go see a doctor, she finished before leaving you alone in the room to rest. You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door, thinking it’s your friend that’s here to bring you back home – finally. You’re more than surprised when you’re met with Seungkwan’s figure at the door as he asks you if he can come in, which you answer with a nod. He walks in and sats down on the chair at the end of the bed; what did she say? he asks, nervous at the thought of talking to you normally – and also, at the thought of not seeing you for practice anymore. 2 weeks with crutches and a month without playing, at best, you whisper, trying to fight back the tears. Oh- I’m so sorry, he says, sounding sincere. It’s not like you have anything to do with that, you sneer, wiping a tear off your cheek, do you? He sits back, now realizing how far your rivalry had gone for you to thin he could hurt you; no, of course not. I would never, he says seriously, as he sits down at the foot of your bed. Yeah, sorry, you apologize, your voice breaking in the middle, I thought that was what we did. Hurt each other. He takes in your pain which is much more than physical right now; your heart is on the verge of breaking and it’s mostly because of him; Not anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore; he starts as you lookconfused by his words. So, he explains; how his aversion for you came to be because you were a better captain, how people compared you two together, how some of his old team mates wished to have you instead of him. How he found himself to be as admirative of you as people are, how he finally understood everyone when he saw you play, how badminton was made for you, the same way you were for him. How these feelings bloomed in a place he thought was burned by the spite of others. How he wishes he could take everything back but since he can’t how he hopes you can give him a chance to do better, in the future. So, you do; you hold his hand as you both stay silent; he starts to come up with way to fix your broken heart and you, coming up with a plan to keep the flowers blooming even in winter. Maybe love is the way to it all.

thank you so much for reading! leave me a like/reblog/comment if you want and you'll have my unconditional love forever 🫶

[typicalopposite]

Ooooooo just thought of some double angst potential

Gerrard is giving Buck a really hard time… like just absolutely not letting up on him. It’s worse on him than everyone else but he does it enough in the shadows to make sure Buck is the only one to realize it. He can read Buck like an open book, he knows he won’t tell… everyone else is having to deal with Gerrard’s bullshit, too. So what if he is getting the blunt end of it. Better him than them.

Buck is left exhausted.

Tommy clocks it immediately.

He begs Buck to go to someone. Go to Frank, surely he can pull some strings. Go to the chief, he didn’t like Gerrard swooping in and stealing Bobby’s job anyway. Go to his team, they will 100% rally together with him.

Buck insists everything is fine. He can handle it; its under control. No one needs to fight his battle for him, and he doesn’t want his problem to become everyone else’s problem…

So Tommy lets it go… kind of.

He goes to Bobby.

He feels grimey going behind Bucks back but he doesn’t know what to do and Bobby is already working with the higher ups—who’s heads were all gone over in the whole scheme to keep Bobby gone—to get his family back. So that’s how Tommy ends up outside the house Bobby and Athena are renting.

“What do you mean Gerrard’s doing something to Buck…” Bobby asks, voice low and threatening in a way Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever heard it before. He’s instantly up and looking for his keys.

“Wait, stop!” Tommy blocks the door and Bobby gives him a warning look, and yeah… Tommy sees that adopted father/son feeling definitely goes both ways. “I don’t even know if I’m right about this… Buck won’t talk to me. He won’t talk to anyone.”

Flash forward and Bobby meets Buck for lunch. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Buck look so empty and distant. He just wants to hug him and tell him it is all going to get fixed—he doesn’t know if it is… he’s trying but this all seems so much bigger than just an alleged discipline deficit…

“Talk to me, kid…” Bobby finally says. “Whatever is going on… we can work through it… you don’t have to deal with it—”

“Alone?” Buck finishes for him. He turns bloodshot tired eyes up to Bobby and lets out a halfhearted laugh. “How can you even sit there and say that to me like it’s not exactly what you did…”

“Hey, that’s…”

“Don’t you dare say it’s different!” And then his eyes are tearing up and he’s shoving back from tables and storming off… but Bobby knows that the only thing he has to show for trying to keep his problems away from the people he cared about… was a slew of new problems that directly affected the very people he was trying to protect.

“Buck stop!” He yells and jumps up from the table to catch him. Buck stops walking; Bobby could swear he looks relieved when he turns back around. “You’re right, kid… I hid a big thing from you—from all of you… and I was wrong. It was stupid, and selfish… and it backfired big time,” he offers a smile… Buck gives one back. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did. If something is bothering you… speak up.”

So it turns out Gerrard singled out the one person who—in his words—had already “turned his back on his team”. He’s been trying to get information of the others, on Bobby… hell even on members from other stations (Harbor specifically included) who have helped them in the past with their brave(read: illegal) escapades. Buck won’t give in; Gerrard won’t give up. He is trying everything to get under Bucks skin from just the horrid homophobic slurs… the blatant racism he has Buck terrified to speak up on… putting far to much of a work load on his shoulders… to getting his hands on Tommy’s schedule just so he can make sure Bucks never lines up.

Bobby is LIVID… he won’t let this man—this monster—get away with this. “We’re gonna get rid of him once and for all…” he vows to Buck.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eleven : he loves me not (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. 

You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.

Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently. 

A small part of you wonders if he did. 

But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you. 

The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day. 

He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod. 

Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.

Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.

“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand. 

You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it. 

“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.

Tomorrow will be different.

It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse. 

Today you only get one word out of him.

“Good morning Mando.”

Nod.

“Library?”

Nod.

“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”

That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.” 

That’s it?

“Okay.”

Nothing.

“I think I want to turn in early…”

Nod.

“Good night Mando.”

Nothing. 

And now you can’t sleep. 

Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways. 

Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover. 

Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.

Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend. 

That’s what this is isn’t it? 

That’s what you want? 

You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend. 

Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest. 

Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.

Today he was just your bodyguard. 

Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night? 

You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.

ner kar’taylir darasuum

It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.

But not this.

This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.   

Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.

Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry. 

You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out. 

✩

You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor. 

You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is. 

By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.

He sounds miserable. 

Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.  

“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal,  like you don’t want to scare him off.

“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news. 

“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves. 

The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature. 

It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.

All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow. 

But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.

Perfect. 

Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back. 

One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be. 

You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit. 

“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book. 

“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out. 

“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead. 

“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away. 

“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know. 

“It wasn’t my birthday.” 

“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”

“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.

“Answer me and I will.” 

“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion. 

“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.” 

“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction. 

“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”

“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”

The game isn’t stupid to you. 

It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks. 

But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers. 

“You aren’t denying it.”

It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you. 

“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”

“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.

“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.

“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away. 

“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.

“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here. 

“We are.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.

“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it. 

“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground. 

“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.

“Fine.” The static is low and impatient. 

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it. 

“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room. 

The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair. 

The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen. 

The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl. 

“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin. 

He doesn’t know. 

“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today. 

He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open. 

Dinner comes and goes. 

Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.  

“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes. 

He doesn’t know. 

“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”

“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?” 

“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie. 

He couldn’t possibly know. 

“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”

For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle. 

“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”

“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”

“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”

“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.  

“That was never my intention I only meant to-”

“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?” 

“...No.”

“A humiliated man.”

You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t even suspect.

He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando. 

“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.

The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.

“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable. 

You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.

“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile. 

“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.

“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.” 

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave. 

He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave. 

“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”

“There is no we. ”

Ouch.

He’s right of course. 

“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else. 

“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.

“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you. 

“Stop it.” 

“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting. 

You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave. 

  “Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it. 

“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!” 

“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction. 

Oh. 

Any response you might have dies on your tongue. 

That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart. 

Just friends. 

You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it. 

You can’t hide from it anymore.

The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.

He was never just your friend. 

But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.

You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.” 

That pulls you from your shock.

“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper. 

“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely. 

“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don��t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay. 

“The money.” 

That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again. 

“I thought you understood what this was.” 

“I did. We’re just friends.” 

Now you’re the liar.

Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie. 

“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.” 

Ouch. 

“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance. 

You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.

You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

You aren’t his friend. 

You aren’t his sarad’ika.

You aren’t his anything.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[infiniteeight8]

Hello again, just me humbly requesting that you bless us with more of the IronStrange Can’t Find Out series. I know you said getting in the queue early is the best bet, so asking for updates right after you post a new one is my game plan. I need these boys to get their happy ending in this verse eventually! 😅❤️

Your timing was excellent! 😀 Along with the other two, but you know, that means you all got three updates not too far apart! Win for everyone. lol. 

I have two prompts in the queue for this series after this one. 

And now, Tony’s POV post-heat!

-

Tony throws himself down on the couch near the armchair where Pepper is curled up, reading. “I’m not a jealous person, right?” he demands.

Pepper puts her book aside. “You aren’t,” she affirms, partly because this is obviously the appropriate response for whatever rant Tony is about to launch into, and partly because Tony really isn’t a jealous person. If a potential—or even current—partner is more interested in someone else than they are in him, the last thing Tony wants is for them to stick around. And when the interest is purely theoretical, window shopping, to speak, he has no problem playing along with his partner’s appreciation.

He shoots her a despairing look. “Then why is the thought of this mystery alpha of Stephen’s driving me crazy?” 

“Probably because he’s hurting your friend, if unknowingly,” Pepper says. “You’ve always been protective of your friends.” And Tony’s feelings for Stephen had rapidly escalated past friendship, even if he was being a little stubborn about recognizing that. 

“I can’t stop wondering what this guy is like,” Tony says, tipping his head back against the couch. “Is he enhanced? A civilian? Has he even met Stephen in this timeline? Is Stephen pining for a guy who doesn’t know he exists, or a guy who doesn’t even want him?” Tony groans. “I can’t decide which is worse. I mean, being actively rejected is probably worse, but at least then Stephen might be able to get over the guy.”

“You said they had multiple lifetimes together,” Pepper interrupts gently. “I can’t imagine that’s easy to get over.”

Tony makes a frustrated noise. “I know. But I keep thinking, if I knew something about the guy, maybe I’d understand. Or at least I’d— I don’t even know.” Pepper knows. At least I’d be able to size up the competition. Or maybe, At least I’d know what he has that I don’t. But she keeps quiet. “But Stephen won’t say anything about the guy. Nada. Nil. Zip. Except that he’s an male alpha, and that he’s happily mated.” Tony slumps.

Pepper makes a sympathetic noise. Honestly, she’s a bit baffled, too. If it was her, she thinks she’d want to talk about her mate. Even if they couldn’t be together. Maybe especially if they couldn’t be together. But on the occasions she’s met Stephen, it hasn’t really seemed to her like he was pining. He’d been rather focused on Tony, actually, almost to the point of being rude, though Pepper hadn’t minded.

Wait.

“What’s that expression for?” Tony says, sitting up out of his slouch. He points at her. “I know that face. That’s your ‘I just realized Tony is being an idiot’ face. Spill. What’d I do?”

“Tony,” Pepper says slowly. “Does Stephen know why you and I got bonded?”

“Sure,” Tony says automatically.

“No, think about it,” Pepper insists. “Did you ever actually tell him, or are you just assuming he knows because you trust him enough for him to know?”

Tony opens his mouth, then stops, brow wrinkling. “I mean, I must have…”

“When?” Pepper demands.

Tony visibly searches his memory and comes up blank. “Okay, so I may have assumed. Why?”

Pepper laughs and shakes her head. “Tony. From Stephen’s perspective, you are happily mated and therefore unavailable.”

Tony looks stunned. “You think I might be the mystery alpha?”

“It would explain why Stephen’s been so tight-lipped,” Pepper says. “His friendship with you is all he has, and he’s probably terrified it’ll ruin it if you find out.”

“He wasn’t confusing me for his alpha during his heat,” Tony says with dawning realization. “He was forgetting that I wasn’t his alpha. He must have been worried he’d give himself away, that’s why he didn’t want my help at first.”

Tony is still for a moment, and then he leaps up and is halfway to the elevator before Pepper can react. “Tony, wait!”

He stops just short of the elevator and turns back uncertainly. “Pep. We always said—”

Pepper waves him off. “Of course we’ll break our bond,” she says impatiently. “But you can’t just rush over and throw yourself at Stephen. He’s been hurting. If you’re not careful, it’ll end up seeming like you’re throwing that back in his face. You need to slow down and think.”

Tony lets out a long breath and scrubs his hands through his hair. “Right. You’re right.” He gives Pepper a wry look. “Careful isn’t my strong suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll figure it out.”

[edenfenixblogs]

Hello, as a non-Jewish person I have read Night because of your posts. I am not very good at articulating my thoughts, and if anything I say brings up questions for you I will try and answer them. The beginning where there is a sense of hope, is so awful because it just constantly gets worse and worse. The worsening of the regulations while the people of his village tell themselves that it is not too bad, but it is terrible, right from the first limitation, and even before it, all the events that led to it.“German laborers were going to work. They would stop and look at us with no surprise” (100), “And the spectators observed those emancipated creatures ready to kill for a piece of bread”(101). This dehumanization, I wonder how did the German citizens live with it? This sentiment continues on to this day, and yet it is dismissed so easily. “I was sixteen” His relationship with his religion is hurt so much, this general feeling of hopelessness that other people around him also feel, “Just like Rabbi Eliahu’s son, I had not passed the test”. He feels such guilt, he tries so hard to help his father, even as he is starving himself.

While I read this book, sometimes I thought that whatever is happening in this book was not that bad. Sometimes they would get a thicker soup and that would make him happy. How awful is that? For this to be normal for him. For this to not be unusual to me. In the stories of the Holocaust that I have learned, these things are not unfamiliar, the starvation, the apathy of other civilians, the death marches. His story has been categorized in my mind as another set of terrible things that were done to a Jewish person during the Holocaust. His story, every single atrocity that was done to him, I can not imagine properly, yet I only feel an undefinable upset over what happened to him. I think there is something wrong with that? I have very recently discovered that I am, in fact, antisemitic, from your posts and someone else that also realized their antisemitism (which you pointed out), and am trying to outgrow it. I am concerned that my reaction to this book is greatly affected by antisemitism. I can’t tell, am I telling myself that his suffering was ok? Am I? In the book, there are often mentions of Jewish culture that I do not know of. For example, “Shavuot” and the New Year being in summertime. I understand that these are google-able questions, but I was wondering if you have resources for a general introduction into Jewish culture and history? I hope by learning more I can dismantle my antisemitism. If you know a better way to do so, I would appreciate if you could let me know! Thank you for the recommendation to read Night, I will read All But My Life next. I am sorry if my concern over my antisemitism reads as shallow, I do not know how else to express it.

Friend, I am SO PROUD OF YOU and SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU!!!!!

I have said repeatedly that all journeys begin somewhere. More people are antisemitic than are not antisemitic, because that’s how systemic oppression works. You have been taught to hate me.

I thank you for seeing our shared humanity and working to unlearn the harmful things you know.

1. How did the Germans live with the dehumanization? The same way people are living with the dehumanization of Jews now. German antisemitism was deeply tied to antisemitic concepts and tropes that long predated Hitler. These tropes and conspiracy theories had been floating around Europe for a very long time. Furthermore, they have never gone away. All the old tropes and conspiracy theories are resurfacing in the internet age, because the Holocaust only temporarily shamed antisemites, but not enough significant cultural shifts occurred to stop it from rising again.

2. “…sometimes I thought that whatever was happening was not that bad…” I think I see what you are saying. I don’t know your age or where you are from, so I’m not sure if you’ve ever dealt with these kinds of feelings before, let alone how to articulate them — or how to do so in English. But you seem to be horrified by what is happening but you also seem to feel guilt that you find moments of relief in the horrible times as well. I don’t think that makes you a bad person. I just think that makes you a person. The human mind is not built to comprehend trauma on the scale seen during The Holocaust. It instinctively tries to find moments of reprieve that prove things aren’t that bad. And, to be fair, Judaism applauds this. It is a very Jewish idea that we should always look for moments of joy even when our hearts are steeped in misery. Because life is joy. And it is sometimes impossible to wrap our minds around how joyless life can be, and often was for Jews during this time. But your instinct to recognize the impulse to say “well, this day/moment/experience wasn’t so bad” and correct yourself to say, “actually this is a horrific terrible thing that just wasn’t as bad as that other horrific terrible thing that just happened” instead is a good instinct. One of the reasons the Holocaust occurred was because both Jews and non-Jews gave in to this instinct to minimize suffering. Jews minimized our own suffering and clung to hope until it was too late too late to fight back successfully. From the moment we were told to register on lists and wear stars and get on trains, we all should have fought. We should have fought louder and more to condemn Hitler while he was on the rise and to shame those who would vote for him. But ultimately, we were still outnumbered terribly and nothing we did could have stopped the horrors that followed if non-Jews didn’t support us. Non-Jews, of course, bare the true guilt and responsibility for the Holocaust. They refused to question their own hatred. They turned a blind eye to the rising antisemitism. They abandoned their friends in need. They complied with hostile forces who threatened them in order to betray the Jews around them.

Your job as a non-Jew is to never repeat those mistakes. Never let an instance of antisemitism go unremarked on. Ever. And learn what antisemitism looks like. Refuse to ever let it exist or ignored in your presence.

Everyone likes to pretend they would do this, but very few ever do. The reality is that some people hate Jews so much, they will stop being your friend for defending us. And to be a good person, you have to be willing to let those people leave your life if they are unwilling to let go of their hate and learn to do better. The reality is that, at some point, you may very well be asked to choose to reject a friend for the sake of the safety of Jews you have never and will never meet. The good news is that this is not the case the majority of the time!

Most people want to consider themselves good people. And most people want the approval of their peer groups.

Your job is to steer the attitude of your peer group away from antisemitic thinking and toward peace and deconstruction of hateful systemic antisemitism—rather than allowing your peer group to steer you toward the comforting familiarity of Jew-hatred.

3. “…I have recently discovered that I am antisemitic…” I forgive you. As I said, most people are. I draw a distinction between someone who is antisemitic and someone who is an antisemite. You have harmful and negative opinions about Jews because of the systemic bigotry you have been surrounded by your whole life. But this hatred has not become your identity. You recognize this hatred as a part of you that must be discarded. Antisemitism is something you have, not something you are. And you are doing the right things to make sure you stop being antisemitic. This, to me, means you are not an antisemite. If you give up and stop caring about Jews and unlearning these harmful thought patterns, that would make you an antisemite. Because that would mean you are comfortable folding the antisemitism you possess into your identity and sense of self. It seems to me you do not wish to do this. And that means you’re growing and changing for the better. And that is beautiful.

4. “I am concerned that my reaction to this book is affected by antisemitism.” Yeah it probably is. But so is most people’s reaction to this book. That’s the point. Your being willing to confront that is what is important. It is about looking at the places where you lose empathy for Jews, asking yourself why, and then fixing the reason you find.

5. “Am I telling myself his suffering was ok?” I think you’re doing the opposite. I think you’re re-sensitizing yourself to something you were de-sensitized to. That is difficult and admirable.

6. Regarding Jewish culture:

6.a. “Shavuot” is a Jewish holiday. It is the anniversary of the day G-d gave the Torah to the Israelites. In general, a good way to familiarize yourself with stuff like this is to look for resources about Jewish holidays and what they mean. Hebcal offers short summaries of each Jewish holiday that you can import into your phone calendar and learn about as they happen. Wikipedia has a page about Jewish holidays that you can explore. So does the Jewish Virtual Library.

6.b. Jewish culture is vast and impossible to summarize simply. I would recommend starting with the Wikipedia Page on Jewish Culture and exploring whatever seems interesting to you. You’ll never learn it all and that’s ok! I’ve never met a Jew who knows it all either! We have so many subcultures all over the world shaped by unique experiences in diaspora. The most important thing to take away is that no matter how far apart we are or how differently we practice, we are all one people whose goal is to love our fellow humans and do our best to make the world a better place. This is called Tikkun Olam, which means repairing the world. This in itself is a huge concept. But it all relates to making the world better for one another.

I think you are doing a beautiful and amazing thing. And you, by choosing to remove hate from your mind and your actions, are actively making the world a better place. You are repairing some of the damage done by systemic antisemitism.

You are doing Tikkun Olam. And that, in every possible situation, is the best thing you can ever do. Thank you, @JellyMarbles

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eleven : he loves me not

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, angst

Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. 

You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.

Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently. 

A small part of you wonders if he did. 

But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you. 

The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day. 

He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod. 

Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.

Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.

“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand. 

You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it. 

“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.

Tomorrow will be different.

It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse. 

Today you only get one word out of him.

“Good morning Mando.”

Nod.

“Library?”

Nod.

“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”

That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.” 

That’s it?

“Okay.”

Nothing.

“I think I want to turn in early…”

Nod.

“Good night Mando.”

Nothing. 

And now you can’t sleep. 

Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways. 

Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover. 

Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.

Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend. 

That’s what this is isn’t it? 

That’s what you want? 

You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend. 

Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest. 

Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.

Today he was just your bodyguard. 

Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night? 

You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.

ner kar’taylir darasuum

It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.

But not this.

This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.   

Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.

Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry. 

You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out. 

✩

You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor. 

You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is. 

By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.

He sounds miserable. 

Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.  

“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal,  like you don’t want to scare him off.

“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news. 

“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves. 

The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature. 

It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.

All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow. 

But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.

Perfect. 

Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back. 

One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be. 

You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit. 

“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book. 

“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out. 

“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead. 

“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away. 

“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know. 

“It wasn’t my birthday.” 

“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”

“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.

“Answer me and I will.” 

“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion. 

“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.” 

“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction. 

“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”

“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”

The game isn’t stupid to you. 

It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks. 

But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers. 

“You aren’t denying it.”

It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you. 

“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”

“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.

“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.

“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away. 

“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.

“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here. 

“We are.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.

“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it. 

“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground. 

“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.

“Fine.” The static is low and impatient. 

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it. 

“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room. 

The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair. 

The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen. 

The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl. 

“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin. 

He doesn’t know. 

“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today. 

He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open. 

Dinner comes and goes. 

Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.  

“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes. 

He doesn’t know. 

“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”

“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?” 

“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie. 

He couldn’t possibly know. 

“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”

For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle. 

“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”

“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”

“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”

“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.  

“That was never my intention I only meant to-”

“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?” 

“...No.”

“A humiliated man.”

You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t even suspect.

He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando. 

“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.

The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.

“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable. 

You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.

“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile. 

“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.

“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.” 

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave. 

He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave. 

“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”

“There is no we. ”

Ouch.

He’s right of course. 

“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else. 

“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.

“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you. 

“Stop it.” 

“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting. 

You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave. 

  “Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it. 

“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!” 

“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction. 

Oh. 

Any response you might have dies on your tongue. 

That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart. 

Just friends. 

You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it. 

You can’t hide from it anymore.

The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.

He was never just your friend. 

But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.

You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.” 

That pulls you from your shock.

“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper. 

“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely. 

“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don’t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay. 

“The money.” 

That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again. 

“I thought you understood what this was.” 

“I did. We’re just friends.” 

Now you’re the liar.

Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie. 

“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.” 

Ouch. 

“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance. 

You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.

You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

You aren’t his friend. 

You aren’t his sarad’ika.

You aren’t his anything.

tag list (dm or reply asking to be added if you'd like!!) : @stagerightlauren - @dins-riduur-anthe - @littleguy-bendy - @rarachelchel - @laurensnotsparkly