#from her outside perspective nothing bad even happened with him

[loveandthings11]

Kenaomi insight! 💕

[thewizardingpost]

soulmates...?

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ findng out that you “belong with” the infamous marauders, you run and hide. But in good ole fashioned fate, they find you like they’re supposed to.  warnings ⌇2.9k, soulmate au, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, hinted ravenclaw!reader (but not directly said), divorce hinted at (R’s dad cheated), minor injuries (r receiving, mention of some blood), this is my fic (I just got a new account)

At the age of ten you learned about soulmates when three symbols appeared on the inside of your writer. It happened on your birthday, the sight of it scared you and you tried to rub it off until your mom intervened. She had explained to you then–that the three symbols on your arm would fill in with color whenever you were near them. Then you had gagged and waved your mother off, but after a few years you had begun to yearn for it. 

After getting admitted to Hogwarts, your friend from back home found hers after just sitting at the dining table after being sorted. She was ecstatic explaining it to you, and that event is what started your desire to know the three people you were ‘destined’ to be with. 

Classes had started, and still no luck. A year had gone by, and still nothing. Over the summer your mother had consoled you, telling you it'll take time and that it's usually rare to find out so long. With your hands in hers, sitting on the couch, you asked her a question that would change your perspective on the entire thing. You asked if dad was her soulmate, and she responded with a heartbreaking no. Her ‘soulmate’ had cheated on her. 

It changed you. To know that someone was supposed to be your forever could do such a thing, leave your mom broken and alone like that was terrifying, angering. You stopped checking your wrist often. You stopped checking other’s wrists to see if it matched yours. You stopped caring. 

Years passed and you were now a Fifth Year at Hogwarts. And about to be late for your first potions class of the semester. There was barely any time left so when you arrived you threw yourself at the first open seat you could find. The air was run out of you, making you breathe heavily. You already caused a scene running in, you had nothing else to lose by breathing loudly. 

“Sleep in?”

       Your eyes flitted to the person beside you, “Possibly.”

“Oh I think the answer is ‘definitely’,” he grins, “I should know, I do it often.”

Seeing how you were still looking down at the table, moving items around–you noticed in your peripheral how he angled his body so he could see your face. 

“Gonna tell me your name or shall I give you one?”

      “Why?”

“You’ve been to Hogwarts, haven’t you? Seeing as we’re sitting together, we’re going to be lab partners.”

And that’s how you first met Sirius–sitting in the back of your potions class. At first it had felt suffocating, but now you couldn’t deny the way he made you laugh. Over time you found yourself enjoying his presence, even accepting his invites to study outside of class. 

He told you to meet him at the library, but he never said where. You scanned the tables first before you wandered down the book isles, scanning each row until you found him on some random aisle in the charms section. 

“Sirius,” you whispered, tone harsh as to grab his attention, “I’ve been looking for you, I–” 

      “Shh, dollface. Can’t you see I'm reading?”

You brush off the nickname, “you never read, Sirius.” 

       “Excuse you, I absolutely do. Only if it involves something I’m interested in.” 

You move to see the title of the book, “jinxes?”

       “Only trying to spice life up a bit.”

You sighed, “we really must finish this assignment, I’d hate to get a bad grade already so early on in the school year.” 

When he didn’t budge, you sighed dramatically to pull him out of whatever trance the book seemed to have him in. He trailed behind you, mumbling something about having to tell someone about what he just read later. A few minutes later you found some seating in one of the aisles, the row having only three seats. With the one on the end taken, it forced the two of you to be pushed closer together on the inside. 

“I didn’t bring my notebook because my friend’s using it and I assume you don’t have yours,” you mumbled while you flipped through the pages of some old book, “so we’ll have to use this to understand the potion for the assignment. It’s pretty detailed so maybe we can both read it and discuss what we took away after. We have to have this information ready–Sirius, I feel like you’re not listening.”

        “Good observation, gorgeous–I’m not. This is a complete snore-fest.”

“This ‘snore-fest’ is 25% of your grade,” you whispered with a smile, moving the book closer to him, “so read. Please. If not for yourself, please do it for me.”

He reluctantly did so, moving his eyes off of you and onto the length paragraphs inside the book. Every now and then he would make a reluctant sound. Sometimes his leg would jitter too much, and hit the leg to your chair. You paid it no mind, and for some reason you enjoyed it–a smile on your face as you read another copy of the book. 

“Sirius, why’re you in the library? And reading as well, are you alright?”

You watched Sirius angle himself out of the corner of your eye towards what seemed to be another Fifth Year–just with shorter, brown hair. 

“Oh fuck off, it’s for an assignment.”

       “I’ve never seen you read for an assignment.” 

“I’ve already been attacked by this lass, I don’t need anymore from you.”

       “And who is this lass?”

And that’s when you meet James. It was a quick hello, but for some reason after that moment he would pop up everywhere. In the hallway, out in Hogsmeade, across the way while sitting at the dining tables in the great hall. It’s only been short smiles and waves until you bumped into him 

outside the Quidditch arena. He called out your name, wondering to you in his get-up. 

“James,” you breathed, “you play quidditch?” 

        “Yeah, just finished a game now. We won,” he smiled wide, leaning on his broom, “I take it you don’t care much for sports?”

“Sorry, no–but that’s wonderful. And what position do you play?”

        “Seeker.” 

You hummed, “well maybe I’ll come watch you sometime.” 

If it was possible, it looked like his smile grew. He reached back to pull someone from the crowd, “this is Remus. He comes to my games often. If you’d like someone to sit with so you’re not alone, he’s here.”

You smile at him, “alright, thank you.” 

And that’s how you meet Remus, unknowingly meeting all three of your soulmates within the span of a week. For whatever reason you never checked your wrist. You left your sleeve to cover the area, keeping the markings hidden from your sight. Unbeknownst to you, throughout the next few weeks you would be unaware of how each marking would fill in with color. With Sirius, there was a small dog head that filled with black whenever you were near him. James had a stag that filled with brown, and Remus had a wolf that filled with gray. All three imprints were small, huddled in close together on the underside of your wrist–just barely reaching over an inch in size. Through all the time you spent–going to the Three Broomsticks, attending their Quidditch games, and even sometimes encouraging a jinx on some rotten teacher. You would consider yourself friends–but the tinted markings on your wrist suggested otherwise. 

“Darling,” James called to you, “are you sure this is where you went?”

           “Yes,” you answered, stepping over an enlarged root, “I’m sure.”

“Just say you don’t trust her,” Sirius quips. 

         “I do, I just feel like we’ve passed by that stump over there before.”

You were leading the three of them into the forbidden forest after stating that just earlier on your walk to Hogsmeade you saw the mushrooms they were looking for in their potions recipe. They practically begged you, mainly Sirius, to be able to find such an ingredient after being banned from the ingredient cabinet in the classroom downstairs. You were sure the mushrooms were just on this corner, sitting just outside of the forest–but somehow you found yourself wandering through the shrubbery with the boys in tow. Everyone was confused. 

“Dove,” Remus started, moving closer to talk privately to you, “if you’re feeling a little fuzzy on where it's located, it’s okay to turn back around and re-evaluate. We are getting quite deep into the forest now.” 

       You stop, looking directly at him, “I swear it was here. The area is all the same basically. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d be leading everyone into nowhere.”

“No one’s upset. I had only brought it up because it’s getting dark outside. Might be best to head back and look tomorrow, we’re in no rush.”

           “Thank you,” you smiled, “I’ll make sure you all are able to complete that prank, promise. It just won’t be tonight.”

“I agree with heading back, I’ve heard that students get lost in the woods past dark,” Sirius said, arms resting on his hips. 

          James looks at him with a weird expression, “where’d you hear that?”

“Why I overheard some professors discussing it. Some couple came out here to make out and didn’t return.” 

           “I say we hurry back then so we don’t face their wrath,” James whispered, already taking the first step forward.

The forest had an earthy smell that got stronger when the moon started to arise as the forest began to cool. It was quite cold, the wind rushing through the swaying trees causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. James and Sirius were ahead this time, deep in discussion while you and Remus talked in the back. 

Two minutes into the walk–that was just starting to feel peaceful–a galloping sound was heard somewhere in the woods. You had enough time to look back when you felt the ground under you rumble, but none when a centaur came barreling through. One then another, then another appeared. They pushed through the area, not caring or not seeing the four of you standing there. 

Sirius moves from where he was leaning on a tree for protection, almost cheering, “that was fantastic.”

You wince from your place on the ground, trying to pick yourself up from where you had been knocked over. Behind you heard someone curse and another coming to help lift you up, “are you alright?”

        “I’m fine, just a few scratches is all,” you said, brushing the leaves and dirt off of your clothes, “is anyone hurt?”

You look around while James shushes you, “we’re fine, sweetheart. Just worried about you is all, looked like you fell pretty hard.”

       “Like I said I’m fine, especially after the fact I just saw a centaur.”

Your statement brought up a conversation, one that lasted until you all were back inside Hogwarts. Throughout the walk you were gripping your wrist, more specifically your shirt. During your fall, your wrist had snagged on something–tearing your shirt and the skin underneath. When you went to stand, you caught a glimpse of the cut–and the pigmented marks on your wrist. 

BORDER

You started to avoid them after that night. First it was pretty subtle, you had done a good job of convincing them and yourself that you weren’t removing yourself. You smiled their way, talked to them, but you declined offers to hangout. 

Just now they had invited you to join them on a walk over to Hogsmede because Remus wanted to get a new book–and you turned them down, saying you had elsewhere to be. 

“I don’t remember her being this busy,” Remus stated.

         “There’s no way she’s ignoring us,” Sirius conveyed, looking at the two of them nervously. 

That remark spiraled them. When you started to pull away more, they were sure their suspicions were true. You rushed past them, even said you were busy when on the map it showed that you were in your dorm room. 

You were ignoring the life-changing news that you found out last week, which translated into ignoring them and trying to keep busy to avoid accepting the truth–to avoid the confrontation of spilling the truth. That you were their soulmate. 

It broke you to find out because you didn’t want your time with them to end. Didn’t want the news of a soulmate to tear you four apart like it did with your mom and dad. To willingly remove yourself from three people who changed your life from the better was heart-wrenching. In some sick way, your mind tried to convince you it was better this way. They’d leave you like how your dad left your mom. Four people together? It’ll never work. Plus they seemed happier just the three of them. 

Today was Friday, a day you usually spent with them in Hogsmeade–but today you walked those streets by yourself. You had started to read a book at the library before deciding halfway through that you needed to buy it, the reason why you were in Hogsmeade. And just outside when you stepped back into the cold air, you ran chest-to-chest with Remus. 

“Gonna run away like you always do,” Sirius remarked, face cold, indifferent. He didn’t seem to care much when it made your face drop further than it already had, “it’s alright, you can leave–we understand. We know how highly you think of yourself now.” 

        “I don’t think that at all–” you start before stopping, looking at the others walking by on the street, “can we talk. Please.”

“So now you want to talk? That’s fucking rich. After all the times you’ve run away when we tried to talk to you, we have every right to leave you right here.”

         “You’re right, I don't,” you said, pushing down on the sadness that was already beginning to crawl up your throat. You tuned, but didn’t get far when a hand grabbed your wrist. 

“We’d love to talk to you,” Remus professes, “just after we move somewhere quieter.”

He guided you, moving towards a more secluded area by the river that ran through the small city. You were far enough from the crowds, but you all could hear the faint sounds of the street performer in the back. 

“So,” Sirius probes, “why have you been acting like we don’t exist?”

          “It’s not you, it’s me. Only recently my mom disclosed some information about my dad and why he left. It ruined my perspective on soulmates, made me believe they were all a hoax because why would you be destined with someone who’d do that to you? So I got scared when I found out I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought surely it wouldn't work between us. Four people? How uncommon is that? Instead of giving it a chance or even communicating this to you–I ran away, and I shouldn't have. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“To be honest I thought we all knew we were soulmates. I check mine often. When the third little design on my wrist glowed whenever you were around, I knew it was you and I told the others,” Remus added, “But we all should’ve communicated that. That’s on all of us.” 

Seeing the tears turn your eyes shiny Sirius sighs, moving forward to pull you into a hug, “why’re you crying, dollface? Sad that you got three attractive men as your forever partners.”

     Feeling his arms around you, the scent of him invading your senses makes the tears start to flow, “I just don’t want you to leave me.”

“We’re not leaving, not ever,” James proposed as he and Remus moved close to wrap their arms around the two of you. 

BORDER

You laughed at the feeling of James’ lips tickling your neck.

“Missed you a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled into the skin, pulling himself closer, “one summer’s too long without you.”

The train’s cushions were comfortable, but they were barely enough to hold you and James–so when Sirius moved onto the seat, you were pushed up against the wall. He had expressed his excitement walking into the cabin, tossing his suitcase onto the other seat before wrapping himself around James’ back. 

“Fucking hell I’ve missed you.” 

He placed a kiss onto yours and Jame’s cheek before moving onto the other cushion, giving space for when Remus arrived. There was joy and excitement held in each other’s hearts, knowing you all got to see each other again after months of waiting. It was torture, and the letters did nothing. Remus was last, moving into the cart with a relaxed smile. Sirius had held out his hand, pulling him onto the seat so they could greet one another. 

“Mm, missed you loads,” Remus whispered, smiling against Sirius and looking over when he heard you laugh. 

You were continuing to try and move James away, trying to stop his attack on your neck. You were trying to spew words between your gasps and laughter, trying to move him off but the sounds of you laughing were too contagious.

“James, give the girl a rest. She looks like she’s going to implode.”

            “Fine fine,” he said, moving away, “oh hey Remus.” He says noticing the way he had opened the sliding door, eyeing everyone with a warmth in his expression. 

“Hi Prongs.”

You greeted him after, feeling yourself grow warm when you feel him press a kiss to your cheek. The both of you leaned back into the seat after, James wrapping an arm around you, “ready for another year at Hogwarts?”

       “Absolutely.” 

[gisellecnz]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

💌 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Teen!Gojo Satoru x Teen!fem!reader

💌 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The most worst thing Gojo never wanted to happen became true. But after meeting the new transferee, all his problems went away.

💌 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Highschool 2009 jjk, Gojo being sad after the Geto incident, Reader is a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high, Reader is a 2nd year and Gojo is a 3rd year, fluff, slight angst

💌 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Might actually consider making this into a series... From Gojo meeting you for the first till you both are married and have children AACKKKK. Also, if you're wondering why it's not 2006, the year where gojo and Geto separated happened during 2009 and they were 3rd years

💌 𝐖𝐂: 1.4k

2009 — 2 days after Gojo and Geto separated.

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.

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That sickening feeling of regret gripped Satoru as he sat down on the rough, stoned surface of the stairs outside Jujutsu high. He tried to reminisce the moments he had shared with his one and only, best friend Suguru Geto. He hoped that it would relieve his feeling of remorse after the incident. But instead, it made him feel worse. So worse that it made him feel more empty–an emptiness that was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark. He's the strongest, but why couldn't he save his loved ones? He just wishes that he had the ability to rewind the time.

EVERYONE knew that the two bestfriends were inseperable. Yet, was what so important to Satoru had been taken away from him.

Not until......

"Yo, Satoru, are you okay?" Shoko asked as she was approaching the white-haired man, who seemed depressed. Who did nothing but just stared at the ground while sitting on the stairs. It was rare to see Satoru in this state—His usual joyful and playful attitude replaced by a quiet demeanor now, made Shoko feel bad for him.

"...Yeah, I'm fine, it's just that... " He paused, not knowing what to say afterwards. He couldn't think of any excuse.

"... Don't worry, I understand." Shoko replied as she pulls out another cigarette. Searching for the lighter in her pocket.

"..Oi, Ieri-san, what do you think, am I the strongest because I'm Satoru Gojo? Or am I Satoru Gojo because I am the strongest?" He has been pondering about the same questions over and over, and still couldn't find the answer to it. But just now Shoko was too busy with her cigarette, that she didn't perceive what was Gojo was saying.

"Sorry, we're you talking to me?" Shoko puffed the smoke out of her mouth, and puts the cigarette back in to her lips.

Gojo sighs, "Well, forget it. Let's just go, that old man might start exploding by now if we go back to his class late again. " He finally stood up from the staircase as he walks together with Shoko back to class whilst watching the bright blue sky through his sunglasses.

After a few walks on the way to class, Shoko spots an unfamiliar girl who was wearing the same uniform as her, she had a pretty face. But the girl seemed puzzled of where she is right now.

Shoko taps on Gojo's shoulder, "Hey, is that the new transferee from Kyoto? I heard she's the same year as Nanami."

Gojo looked down from the sky, "Eh? Ha? What transferee? Whe–oh... " The moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt a rush of emotions. He's confused of what he is feeling. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why does his face feel hot? What? What?? You're even prettier than the model that he has as his wallpaper on his phone, just who are you?

(hey!! Waka inoue is very VERY pretty, this is just based on Gojo's perspective in my fic) (Also, think of this as the bg music of this scenario the moment gojo lays his eyes on you)

The way he is feeling right now felt so soothing and comforting, as if that emptiness he felt earlier felt like it was no longer there anymore.

He felt weird—for him, he felt like there was a connection between the two of you. His six eyes tell him that he's just crushing over you, but his soul tells otherwise. You were absolutely WAY more than that.

.

.

"Oi! Satoru! Stop daydreaming, that girl seems confused right now. We should ask her." Shoko snaps her fingers in front of Satoru's face, bringing him back to reality. "O-okay...!" His whole body tensed, and Shoko cringed at his reply.

As they approach you, your gaze met Satoru's, he feels even more tense. By now his face turned as red as a tomato.

You quickly ran towards them, feeling relieved that you finally found people that you can ask help with finding your dorm. You may have been to Jujutsu high's sister school, but this school was way different than the one in Kyoto.

"Oh thank goodness. I'm a little lost right now, but you guys must be the 3rd years. I'm [last name, first name]. I'm a transferee from Kyoto Jujutsu high. Nanami-san has told me about what you guys looked like in case I ran into you. " You said shyly.

Shoko smiles at your introduction, she knew you the both would get along well. "I'm Ieri-san, I work with healing a ton of people. And this is–" The moment Shoko points at Satoru, he scratches the back of his head, trying to avoid looking at you. Fuck, he's never acted like this in front of new people before. What were you doing to him? The only thing he could do right now is just to shyly wave his hands at you. "–Gojo. He may look stupid but he's actually really strong, he's a special grader."

Shoko went to take a look at Satoru, thinking why he was so quiet. Usually when he goes to introduce, he'd go boasting. He could even take an hour to introduce himself. The way he looks right now was so awkward–Red face, sweating, the way his eyes were avoiding to look at you, and he ONLY waved at you. Now that she has given a thought to it, mischievous thoughts filled up in her mind. She now found a new way to tease Gojo.

Upon hearing their introduction, your face lit up. They sounded really cool! You were happy to have them as your seniors. At that moment you didn't notice Gojo's awkwardness; you were more concerned about finding your dorm. But you wouldn't mind a little talk with them.

"Oh, I've heard a lot about you and your insane powers! You're really famous. I knew you were in Tokyo Jujutsu high. So when I was gonna transfer, I was looking forward to meet you." You were referring to Gojo.

When you looked up at him, his sunglasses were resting on the bridge of his nose, revealing his ice-blue eyes. His long white lashes framed them perfectly. His eyes we're sparkling like a sunlight above the rim of his glasses. You were slightly taken aback by how breathtaking his eyes looked. And he also had a well sculpted face. Now you understood why you kept hearing girls squeal about this particular guy.

After Gojo heard your comment about him, he felt like he could seriously melt at this moment. He stuttered a short "...T-thanks..." in reply. How long will he stay here talking with you? He can't take it anymore!

And it seemed like the gods heard his prayers, Shoko gave Gojo a teasing look. She pat his shoulders and told you that he wasn't really feeling well today. "Sorry, this guy kinda got a fever today. He'd go bragging about himself if he wasn't. He's gonna have to go back to his dorm right now." Shoko looked at Gojo with raising her one eyebrow up, giving him a teasing smile. It pissed Gojo off that she knew he had an instant crush on you. But anyway, she still helped him. "Gosh darn it you Shoko. "—he mumbled.

You turned to look at Gojo to see he was turning away now, a little disappointed that you guys didn't really get to talk that much.

"...Oh, I see. Get well soon then!" You yelled, but not too loudly as Gojo was about to head back to his dorm. But after all the talking, you remembered why you were here in front of Shoko—"Oh yeah. I forgot to ask something, it says my dorm is **** but I don't know where it is. Please help me find it!"

And after that, she was able to help you find your dorm, but the thing is..

*what happened after*

Satoru: "Shoko, what the fuck do I do. It's like I'm being tested, her dorm is right next to mines!!!??" he panics.

Shoko: "Looks like somebody's whipped..." *she raises both her eyebrows up and down repeatedly*

Satoru: "Oh my gosh shut up, I feel like I could melt any minute. What the heck is that woman doing to me... "

Shoko: "You were all emo and stuff earlier, now you're all giddy? She really did a huge impact on you. Aaaanddd it's the first time you were acting timid."

Satoru: "I know! When I first saw her, it felt so weird. I dont know how to explain it! It's like....weird in a good way.... "

tags: @byakuya61085 @angelsleepinggurl

[imaginestuffs]

phases- Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Word count:3,721

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

Summary: Reader thinks over moments in her relationship with Tyler. All the good, and of course the bad.

A/N: I don't usually put an author's note, but I thought I should this time. This isn't my best writing honestly. I wrote this on my phone on a long drive. It all just kind of spilled out of my brain, and I liked it, but it's kind of all over the place. So, if you're willing to ignore some flaws, and bear with me I thank you!

(gif not mine)

You never knew what it meant to love and be loved; by the one person you had waited for your whole life. 

The moment you met Tyler your life changed, your perspective was altered, so much so that you couldn't remember what it was before him. 

Every shade of sky, every mood, you had experienced with him—frustration, fury, embarrassment, love, admiration, and best of all acceptance. 

Through him, came your found family. The group of people you had the pride and honor of knowing and loving. Just being with them gave you a sense of freedom, respect for the unknown, and an acceptance of what's to come. No matter the difficulty you'd have them to pull you through. 

Before you met Tyler, you feared the storms, it didn't matter how many you weathered. The chance they could take everything from you in seconds was terrifying to you. 

He held you through the night. being your shelter for as many storms that made you tremble, and grip him tighter than you ever had. 

---

Your fear of storms originated when you were a little girl. You could remember the sirens going off and having to hide in your basement. You weren't able to get outside in time to get to the shelter. So your father rushed you into the basement. it was completely dark as your father guided you to the pipes he knew were in the corner of the pitch-black room. 

He instructed you to wrap your arms around them, and no matter what happened not to let go. 

You weren’t sure how long you were down there. But every slam against the house rang in your ears. Each creak of the foundation caused a jolt of fear to course through you. 

You could hear the raging wind decimating everything in its path. You knew that so much that you loved would be swept away. The town you grew up in would be devastated, it would never be the same. 

When everything went completely still, no wind could be heard, and all things seemed to have stood still, your father gently pried your hands from the piping. 

Your hands shook from how hard your grip was. Even now, they still shake during storms.

You hadn’t told Tyler about what happened when you were a little girl. Thinking that if a storm came you would cover up your fear. He had told you that he was a storm chaser but you hadn’t gone on any chases with him. So he was never around for storms. 

But it seemed that wouldn’t be the case for this one. You saw the dark clouds looming in the distance and the air smelt of rain. You just knew there was no avoiding this. You’d just have to do your best to hide your fear. 

Tyler walked into the kitchen and saw you looking out the window. He padded across the floor to wrap his arms around your waist. 

You felt his arms twist around you and jumped. You heard Tyler chuckle and felt him press a kiss on your cheek. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you heard the smile in his voice. You forced a soft giggle and placed your hand over his. 

He could tell that something wasn’t right, there was no quip or witty response to him. You were tense, and he felt your hands shaking. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Tyler's breath warmed your cheek as he spoke to you. 

Your heart began to race, “Nothing. I’m-uh-I’m just fine. Are you excited for the storm?” you turn in his arms to face him. 

You reached your hands up to play with his hair and you felt the slightest bit of relief as he looked at you so softly. Yet you couldn’t stop the tremble in your hands. His hand moved a strand of hair from your face as he studied your behavior. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?” his hand rested against your face and you leaned into his touch. You nodded at him, “I know Ty,” you assured him with a kiss on his palm. 

The first clap of thunder sounded and you yelped, your hands covered your face and you slightly shook. The sky sounded off again and instead of sliding to the floor, Tyler pulled you close. 

“C’mon (y/n), let's get to bed now huh?” his voice was calm. 

“You’re not mad at me?” Tyler could hear the nerves in the way you spoke. 

He took your chin between his pointer finger and thumb gently having you look at him. “I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you,” he nudged your nose with his. You smiled weakly, and he guided you up the stairs and to your bedroom. 

His shirt lay discarded on the floor along with your sweats. He knew you hated wearing too much to bed. You had always said it made you feel too closed in. So there you were lying next to him in one of his shirts and your favorite polka-dot underwear. 

He allowed you to wrap yourself around him and promised that he would show you there was nothing to be scared of when he was there.

The thunder rolled and lightning struck. Rain pelted the roof and windows. The wind blew and whistled through the old oak outside your window. 

Each boom caused you to shake. Every gust of wind and blinding flash, had your heart pounding against your ribs. 

But there he was, secure, steady, and warm. Whispering assurances in the dark. Holding you close, unwavering. 

Your face buried in the crook of his neck, and his hand warm and rough against your back. 

His lips soft against your hairline, "I've got you, sweetheart. Nothing's gonna hurt you." He breathed out. 

A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the window. You let out a cry and wrapped yourself around Tyler. 

He felt warm tears drip on his skin. He lightly tugged you away so he could see your face.

"Please don't, please don't let go," your voice broke. His heart ached at your plea. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Look at me," he said. Softly brushing a piece of hair from your face. 

You didn't budge. "(Y/n), baby, look at me. You've got nothing to be afraid of," he said and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

He gently did his best to coax you out of your hiding spot. 

"C'mon sweet girl, I've got you," he reminded you. Slowly but surely you shifted so you could look at him. 

He saw the tear stains on your cheeks and the fear in your (e/c) eyes. His gaze softened, and he leaned forward to kiss your red nose. 

"I'm sorry Ty," he heard your uneven breathing. 

He placed his hand on your cheek and rested his forehead against yours. His lips were just a whisper away. He placed a messy kiss on your mouth. Your breath hitched at the soft gesture. 

"You have no reason to be sorry," he mumbled before he pulled you back in for a real kiss. 

Albeit short, it was enough.

---

Now after 2 years of being with him, your fears lessened. Still, there were times you got scared, but with his hand in yours you never felt safer. Even when you weren't in the truck with Tyler. Dexter and Dani would have an arm around your shoulder. They knew watching the live streams made you nervous. 

You’d always cheer and celebrate but once the sky cleared you let out the breath you were holding.

---

You stood next to Dani who had their arm secure around your shoulders. 

You saw Tyler, Boone, and Lily getting closer to the oncoming storm. The sight was still as unbelievable as it was when you first saw it. 

Looming dangerously close to the people you loved. Even so, the smiles on their faces, and how they shouted in excitement spoke volumes. Eyes wide with a sense of wonderment. 

The all too familiar fearlessness etched on your boyfriend's face. It brought a smile to your face. 

As they anchored the truck into the ground, your heart raced. You shouted along with Dani and Dexter. You heard the fans around you cheer too as they shot fireworks up into the funnel. 

You watched as the sun came back into view, and they jumped out of the truck. You let out a sigh of relief. 

"Woo! Did you see that?!" Boone shouted and you laughed. Dani laughed out loud and picked you up in excitement. You held on tight to them and laughed as well. 

"She was gorgeous!" Tyler shouted. "Just like you babe!" He pointed at the camera and you knew he was talking to you. 

You blushed and smiled. 

As soon as the group reunited, you leaped from the RV. 

"Tyler!" You shouted as he stepped out of the truck. 

He quickly turned toward you with a huge smile. "Hey, baby!" He held his arms open and let you run into them. 

What he didn't expect was you to jump into his arms. He caught you and laughed, your face was buried in his shoulder and he placed a kiss on your neck. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, he held you up underneath your thighs. You looked at him with a big smile, that mirrored his. 

He set you on the tailgate, before bending down and pressing his lips to yours. One hand traveled to your hip, the other hitched your thigh higher over his hip. Your slender fingers ran through his hair, gently tugging at the strands. Your thumb affectionately stroked his cheek.

A low whistle sounded behind you and you smiled against Tyler's lips. 

"We know it was a good chase but damn, didn't think you would be that excited." Dani teased. 

You giggled and hid your face in his chest. He looked down at you in adoration. He let you go and helped you hop down from the bed of his truck. 

The group looked at the two of you knowingly. Boone winked at Tyler who rolled his eyes. 

"Use protection!" Lily shouted as you pulled Tyler up the staircase, and to your room for the night. 

---

Sometimes things got rough. For a brief moment in time, you felt forgotten. Forgotten by the one person you never thought would forget you. 

You thought it was over.

---

Tyler woke you up one morning. He was already dressed and ready to head out the door. 

"Where are you going T?" You asked in confusion. Trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

Tyler looked over at you with a sad smile. 

"What's wrong?" Your voice had grown concerned. 

"I'm going to check on Kate. She left in a hurry, and I'm worried about her." He said and fiddled with the arcade ring on his finger. 

Your brows furrowed together, "what?" Your voice was softer than usual. 

He shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. 

"She went through hell last night. Dexter remembered her name from the paper a few years ago. I'm going to see if she's ok," he sighed.

"Alone?" Wondered aloud. He shifted his weight. "Were you even going to tell me? Or were you just gonna leave?" Your voice shook.

"I was gonna leave a note..." he trailed off and cringed at how shitty that sounded. 

"Fine, go." You said and pointed at the door. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, of both frustration and hurt. 

He tried to take a step toward the bed but you pushed yourself further back. 

"Baby, please understand, she needs someone right now," 

You huffed and shook your head. "Right, then leave. It's not like anyone here needs you," you mumbled. 

He watched as you stepped past him and walked into the bathroom. The door wasn't slammed shut but closed softly in a way only you did when you were hurt. 

Tyler stepped up to the door and placed his hand against it. "I love you (Y/n)," he said. 

With no response from you, he walked out the door. 

Having heard the door shut you let a few tears fall. You didn't want the team to see how upset you were so you pulled it together. 

You slipped into your jeans and a tank top before heading out the door. 

The door shut behind you, and before walking down the stairs to greet everyone you plastered on a smile. 

"You guys ready to chase some storms?!" You called down the stairs. The group turned to face you and they all whooped as you jumped the last few steps. 

You ran over to them and asked if there were any possible storms. 

As soon as you asked Dexter shouted. "I've got one! This cell to the east is looking strong, we gotta go!" 

You all piled in the RV as best as you could. It was nowhere near comfortable but it would have to do. 

Staring at the sky turning gray, and the horizon being blurred by the tornado picking up speed. The thought of Tyler running off to comfort a girl he barely knew, was eating away at you. 

Despite not being able to drive straight into it Liliy's drone picked up all you needed to see.

You wanted to jump out of the RV, let the wind whip your hair and the rain lash your face. You wanted to scream until you couldn't anymore, but if you did your friends would surely know that there's something wrong. 

You stayed silent as the tornado dissipated. 

It had been 2 days since you had seen or heard from Tyler. You had put on the performance of a lifetime. Each time Boone or Lily asked about Tyler, you just told them that everything was fine. You acted as if it was no big deal, and continued to smile.

"Tyler! Man, where have you been?" Boone cried down the phone. Your head turned to see him on the phone. 

"Wait, wait. Kate did what?" Boone questioned in confusion. He went silent as Tyler spoke to him. 

"Where do you want to meet?" Boone listened to his friend's instructions. 

He called everyone over and explained what was going on before rallying you all into the RV. 

Everyone chatted about Kate's plan, and you chose to stay silent. You didn't have much to say. All you thought about was Tyler, staying with her for 2 days. Her riding shotgun while they chased a tornado. 

They hugged and celebrated the rush of adrenaline after the storm passed. 

Before you knew it you arrived at the place he told you to meet him. 

Everyone exited the vehicle and went to greet Tyler. You stepped out of the RV and made your way over to the group. 

Tyler saw you hanging back and smiled softly trying to break the tension. 

"Hey Sweetheart," he said and opened his arms hoping you'd run to hug him. He knew he had messed up the second he reached Kate's house. 

He didn't know why it took him so long to realize the actual damage he had done to you. But he couldn't have turned back then. It was too late, you were already hurt. 

You sent him a curt nod before Kate came walking toward you. 

"Finally ditched the losers huh Kate?" Boone grinned at her and she smiled. 

The rest of the team greeted her with smiles and open arms. She looked over at you and tried to send a smile your way. 

You weren't a terrible person so you, just like you did with Tyler, gave her a curt nod. 

You listened as she and Tyler explained their plan to you all. You understood, and couldn't lie that you were impressed. But it didn't hurt any less when he smiled at her excitement.

Seeing her work so easily with everyone made you insecure. It took you a while to settle in when you met everyone but with her, it seemed like they had known each other for years. 

You leaned against the back of the RV as you tried to get a moment for yourself. 

You didn't hear his footsteps until they were right next to you. 

You looked away from him and did your best to not let your emotions get the best of you.

His shoulder bumped yours as he leaned back. His hand brushed yours and your heart jolted. 

"(Y/n), will you look at me?" His voice was soft. 

"Why?" You shrugged still avoiding his gaze. 

"Because I want to talk to you. I need to hear your voice," it came out almost as a plea. 

“If you wanted to hear my voice, you should’ve called. You should have stayed,” you refused to look at him.

“I know, I messed up. I was an asshole and I-I” he didn’t know what to say.

The sound of his voice made your stomach turn. "Please," he tried one last time.

You reluctantly turned to look at him. The man you loved. 

He could see the dark circles under your eyes and you looked like you hadn't truly rested in days. His heart lurched at the thought of this being his doing. 

"Baby..." his eyes filled with concern as he reached up to place a hand on your cheek. You stopped his hand before it reached your face. 

"Now you care?" Your voice was harsh. He could see the hurt and frustration in your tired eyes. 

"What do you mean, "now"?" He narrowed his eyes at you. 

You rolled your eyes and laughed bitterly. 

"You were going to leave me in our motel room, with a note telling me that you went to be with a girl you hardly knew because she needed you. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You went radio silent for 2 days." You barked. 

You threw your hands up, and he began to speak up. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I admit what I did was stupid, but look where we are now. We can help, we can make a difference!" He raised his voice. 

"I guess you found your match huh? Someone as smart as you. Not some girl who doesn't always understand what you're talking about. You found someone to make a difference with. You don't need a stand-in for the right person anymore." You didn't mean for your voice to waver at the end, but you couldn't help it. 

His eyes widened, and you could see what you said hurt him. 

"That's really what you think? You think you're a stand-in, you're just temporary?" His heart broke.

Tears threatened to fall, as you looked at him. 

"That's exactly what I think. You've acted differently ever since you met Kate, and now I realize that you found the one you really want." You stated.

He threw his hands up and ran them through his hair in frustration. 

"You're crazy, you're actually crazy." He looked at you in shock. Shocked that you believed he thought of you as a placeholder while he waited for “someone better”. 

His words broke the dam of tears you'd held in since the moment he left. 

He saw tears pour down your cheeks and grabbed you to pull you close. His arms were wound around you tightly and no matter how much you tried to push him away. No matter how much you struggled he held you.

"Let me go, Tyler!" You cried but he didn't let go. "I'm not letting you go." He stated.

"I love you." He said and looked down at you. Your face was wet with tears, and he could see how much he hurt you. But with his words you let yourself fall against his chest. Your tears soaked his shirt, and you clung to him. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear that until now. After feeling second best since Kate showed up, all you needed to hear was that he loved you. Just you.

He pressed his lips to your head. "God, I love you so much, Sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I love you," he whispered in your ear. He felt your frame shake in his hold, and he didn't know if it was possible to hold you any closer. 

You pulled back and looked up at him to see tears in his eyes. 

"You're so fucking stupid Tyler Owens. I should hate you, but I just can't," you said and pulled him down to kiss you. His hands immediately found your waist. 

He kissed you as if his life depended on it. Like you were the only thing he needed to live.

Your hands touched him anywhere they could. Wanting to memorize every part of him. 

He gripped your hips, ran his hands under your shirt, and traced every inch of your skin. Grabbing at the flesh of your waist. Doing anything he could to commit your body to his memory. His lips wandered to your cheek and left a trail along the column of your throat. He savored every sound, every sigh, every whisper of his name. 

The slam of a car door snapped you back to reality. He pulled away from you, with a soft smirk on his lips. You knew you must have been a sight. 

"Help me?" You asked him. He knew what you meant, and immediately ran his hands through your hair, as you wiped your cheeks.

He fixed the collar of your shirt and smiled before leaning down once more to kiss your plush lips.

"You still have a lot of making up to do," you pointed at him. 

"I'll do anything for you," sincerity dripped from his words. 

"Alright, love birds. We get you made up but we have to go!" Boone yelled. 

You chuckled as you ran towards the truck. Tyler helped you in, kissed your hand, and rounded the truck to get in the driver's seat.

---

Things after that day had changed drastically. Tyler had done everything he could to gain your trust back. 

He took a week off from chasing to stay home with you.

The time was spent tangled in sheets. It was spent in sundresses having a picnic in the field by your house. It was spent falling in love all over again.

---

-Hope you liked it alright! thanks for reading if you made it this far! <3

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[joocomics]

YOU PUT A SPELL ON ME

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!gunil x fem!reader | professor!gunil x student!reader

genre: smut w/ a sprinkle of plot wc: 9.3k

summary: when your parents shake hands with new business partners they get invited for one festive weekend at their expensive villa. although it’s the last place you want to waste time at, you understand how and why these people are important for your family business, so you agree to join them. the last person you expect to see there is your professor who you’ve been having a secret crush on… and who also politely said no after you asked him out last semester…

contains: university au, switch!gunil, soft dom!reader, pet names, sexting, unprotected sex, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex (m/f), fingering, slight overstimulation, orgasm delay (once), temperature play (m!rec), headlock, creampie, mentions of pillow humping

[ event masterlist | general masterlist ]

“You alright back there?” Your mother asks after hearing you moving around the backseat after a nap you weren’t planning on having.

Unable to stretch the way you want after sleeping in the same uncomfortable position, you huff with frustration while sitting up. Your bones are stiff, you’re hungry and you realise that you have a headache.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.”

You look out of the window to study the outside view with the hope that nature will be able to take off your mind from the dream you just woke up from.

It’s nothing new, you’ve dreamed of the same thing multiple times before already, to the point where if you were able to observe your dreams from an outsider perspective as they are unfolding, you’d be able to guess what will happen next.

And yet, it still affects you to this day, because it’s about him.

Unluckily, you’re not easily fascinated by nature or snow so the thought of your bad-not so-bad dream about your professor (who’s not your professor anymore) Goo Gunil, remains lingering in the back of your head. Fortunately, it’s just for a few minutes before your parents tell you that you have arrived.

The villa you’ve been invited to by your parents’ new business partners is everything you thought a rich family’s villa would look like and more.

It looks beautiful on the outside and even more nice and welcoming after you walk in.

After meeting the owners of what’s about to be your home for three days you head upstairs to settle in one of the guests rooms.

“He’s on his way.” You hear the voice of the middle aged woman you just met fading away as you go up the stairs. “Something came up at work and he had to leave an hour later.”

She must be referring to her son who you still haven’t seen around anywhere. You still succeed in making out some of the conversation even when you reach your room, because your mother gets overly excited from finding out that you study in the same well known and respected university where he works at. She starts asking multiple questions about what exactly does he do and which faculty he’s in, but you shut the door in desperate need for some privacy and a soft surface to lay on.

Looks like you weren’t simply dreaming lately. You were being warned. You’ve been receiving several signals for what’s about to happen, one after another, and you’ve been paying them little to no attention.

A small gasp escapes your lips as this isn’t one of your many foolish dreams. It’s real; he’s actually here, flesh and bone. From what it seems, he just left the shower as you were on your way to look for pain killers, because the second much longer nap didn’t made the headache go away.

“Hi, Y/N.” Gunil leaves the smaller towel to hang from his broad shoulders while the bigger one is wrapped around his torso.

The surprise in his voice isn’t similar to yours. He sounds like he’s been expecting to see you sooner or later just not in this exact moment.

“Hi.” You can only hope that the distance between the two of you prevents him from hearing how your breathing catches. “So you are the son?”

“Yeah, I am.” He confirms while the simple fact you weren’t curious enough to try identify who the son is arouses his curiosity. You’ve always been more or less a source of interest to him; one he does his best not to indulge in. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

You nod in agreement, because you remember exactly how long it’s been since the last time you saw each other. The encounter, so embarrassing and disappointing, at the coffee shop across from university is not letting you forget how much time has passed since then - since the moment he kindly declined your offer to grab coffee with you.

You understand the possible reason behind him refusing to have a drink with you back then, but he could’ve suggested you to do it somewhere more private or to pick another day of the week. After all the little moments filled with something more than just academic talk and acquiring knowledge… that polite ‘sorry’ of his crushed not only your spirits but also your confidence.

Unsure how, you swallow your pride without any problem; to the point you stop fighting the urge to trace his chest with your eyes anymore. Instead, you allow them to roam everywhere that you can see droplets of water dribbling down his skin before lowering them to his abs and evident V-line where the towel starts.

From the way he takes a step closer, you start to wonder if he’s perhaps enjoying your staring.

“Is that the room you picked?” Gunil asks with a certain tilt in his voice; as if he’s trying to escape a distraction. “It’s a good one.”

“Yeah, they’re all very nice, but I went for this one.”

“Right next to mine,” he notes which catches you off guard.

He’s standing even closer now.

You can feel the fresh musky scent radiating from his muscular body which you’ve seen bare in your dreams multiple times now, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what it feels like to see it in real life. Just centimetres away from you, wet and still warm from the shower; with chest rising and falling peacefully as you maintain eye contact like never before.

There’s no students or teachers to force you to break it after all.

“Did anyone entered the shower after you?” Your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt as you tilt your head to the side. “I still haven’t showered since we arrived and I can’t wait to take a bath and relax my body for a bit.”

From the way he just blinks repeatedly at your shimmering eyes you can tell that this simple ordinary question makes him panic.

So he does find you attractive.

Every time you’ve caught him staring during your lectures last semester was not a coincidence or something you made up out of boredom. The difference between the way he spoke to you and the rest of the students wasn’t just another one of your fantasies, it was in fact - reality.

“No,” he shakes head, looking away. His tone has suddenly turned lower and he clears his throat to make it firm again. “It’s all yours.”

He walks past you in order to get to his room, but it looks more like he’s hoping to run away from the images attacking his mind - of you relaxing in the bath tub with foam covering your boobs. You could not have asked for a better reaction than this.

“Dinner will be served in an hour,” he murmurs without looking back and closes the door next to yours.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning you make sure your appearance is decent before heading straight to the kitchen to make coffee as you’d normally do if you were at home, and if Goo Gunil wasn’t existing under the same roof as you.

Dinner last night wasn’t exciting or eventful as you hoped for it to be. Gunil was mostly discussing business and related to that sphere questions with your parents and his own; topics you could care less about when he’s right in front of you.

You exchanged few discreet smiles and glances, from those you used to give each other in the crowded lecture rooms, but nothing more than that. By the end of the night you went to bed feeling a certain sense of unfulfillment and it took you longer to fall asleep.

The door to the kitchen is open and you spot Gunil gazing at the screen of his MacBook. The sight is not surprising as so far you’ve seen him use every possible minute of free time to keep up with work.

A cup of coffee and an open notebook with notes are placed on the counter, but whatever’s currently on the screen has his full attention, because he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence until you greet him.

“Good morning,” you say, walking towards the coffee machine with a nonchalant step.

“Morning.” Gunil greets back while straightening his posture. His voice sounds a bit scratchy, still not quite awake. “Did you sleep well?”

The question makes you feel nice which leads you to the realisation that you’re already getting used to receiving such type of treatment from him. Silly of you.

“It took me some time to fall asleep, but yeah, I slept decent.”

The buzzing sound of the machine fills the space, completely blocking the sound of Gunil’s fingers tapping on the keyboard as it prepares your espresso drink.

As you keep gazing at his upper back, you mull over how he still hasn’t invited any girl here for this little festive vacation. If he was in a relationship it would be only right if she joins too, right?

Once your coffee is ready, you silently head towards the living room, but Gunil stops you from taking another step.

“You can stay here to drink your coffee.” He makes a quick pause to see your eyes widening with intrigue. “I can use some company.”

“Last time I offered you my company you didn’t want it.”

You remain in your place, close to the open door, as you anticipate his reply; the explanation you’ve been so curious to hear all this time.

“I never said that,” Gunil defends himself with the corners of his mouth twitching. “I said that I can’t have coffee with you, not that I don’t want to. Do I need to teach you, english philology student, the difference between the two?”

You cannot stop your lips from curling as well. His charming eyes in addition to his calm tone laced with sarcasm, but unarguably speaking the truth beneath it, have some positive effects on you.

“Alright then.” You nod and take the seat across from him on the marble counter. As you do so, you shoot a quick glance at his laptop with a spark of comedic judgment. “When I drink my coffee in the morning I avoid phones, tablets or any other electronic devices.”

Gunil chuckles and puts it away along with his notes.

You’re glad that taking off his glasses does not cross his mind though. They remind you of the day you met for the first time.

“That’s a good habit to have,” he comments after taking a sip of his coffee,” you have beautiful eyes, you should take care of them.”

You feel your skin warm up from the compliment and you almost want to roll your eyes at your own self from being this easily affected by the smallest things he does.

As you dive into a long conversation about your studies, and how his educating career is developing, you both lean over the counter more and more.

You towards him, and him towards you.

At one point you feel his attention weakening. His gaze shifts directions as his lips now move slower than before, maybe because of the way your boobs are pushed together by your arms that are comfortably propped up on the surface.

“See? I’m not that scary to talk to.” You say lightheartedly while picking up the necklace that’s dangling around your neck, knowing very well Gunil is going to watch you guide it to your lips.

“Y/N…” he exhales, “you know how it would’ve looked like if someone saw us. The fact we’re around the same age doesn’t matter when you’re my student.”

“I know, I know!” You quickly reassure him, dropping your necklace back onto your chest. Because you decided to wear a top with a nice cleavage and an oversized unbuttoned cardigan, the jewel shines playfully at Gunil every time you move. “I’m just teasing you a little.”

Gunil sighs softly from relief, but it still looks like something is on his mind, something that he’s leaving unspoken.

“Is this all you see me as?” You pull him out of his train of thought. “One of your former students?”

Gunil observes your relaxed face as he looks for the right way to approach this question. He wets his lips while contemplating, but the longer he thinks, the more his thoughts tangle together.

He doesn’t see you as just a former student and that’s the tricky part of it all.

He’s aware you’re catching onto his emotions, because now that you’re away from the usual establishment he’s having a hard time pretending not to have them. Besides, there’s nowhere to hide or avoid you in this villa; he doesn’t have hundreds of eyes following his every move.

“No.”

You gaze into each other’s eyes as you wait for him to share something more than just this. On the other hand, Gunil hopes for you to answer something so it gets easier for him to continue.

You’re smart, observant and cunning about your actions and the way you speak to him, you must have something to say.

But is it really necessary for him to speak further?

His chest heavens as reckless ideas invade his mind one after another the longer you look at each other with so little distance keeping you apart.

What if he just kisses you? Right here, right now.

Gunil breathes in as he backs away at the sudden noise from somebody’s footsteps, and exhales with relief. He really doesn’t want to just act on his impulses and do something serious that he’s going to regret later.

When you peek behind your shoulder you see Gunil’s mother walk in, greeting both of you with a warm smile. She begins to yap about tonight’s gathering at which some couple is invited, but you can barely keep your focus on what she’s saying.

For some reason, you feel that unfulfilled void from last night grow bigger, and it’s distracting.

It’s the hour of the fancy dinner that has been awaited and prepped for all day.

Seasonal treats are served on the elegant table, dainty lights are casting a gentle glow, huge Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments and a sparkling star on top is impossible to ignore - everything festive you can think of is on full display and you're impressed with the patience Gunil's mother has for taking care of all of this.

Once again, you’re sitting across from him like you've been doing for every meal so far with the difference you’re wearing an appropriate for the occasion elegant dress meanwhile he’s wearing a black suit perfectly suited for his fit figure.

He looks so handsome and sophisticating.

You really thought the charming professor freshly out of university would be just a temporary crush - until the next semester starts and you lay eyes on some other hot guy. But seems like your attraction is turning into something stronger, and this unexpected opportunity to take a peek into how his daily life outside of work looks like isn’t making it any easier for you to put an end to it.

You hoped that spending some time in the same room as him would lead to you finding out he’s boring. That he dresses awfully when he’s not teaching, and that he has some weird habits that would turn you off.

None of those things are happening.

Instead, you feel warm adrenaline rush bubbling up every time he enters the room, but the worst of all - you felt an irresistible gravity pulling you in his direction when you caught him heading to his bedroom last night in a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie over his dark hair. He probably sleeps in them, because he hasn’t worn such clothing during the day here. As embarrassing as it may sound, the sight resulted into your imagination going wild once you were left alone with your thoughts that night.

Now his hair is looking neatly done, complimenting his facial structure as he effortlessly keeps up with the conversation on the festive table. Instead of talking over the guests with a booming voice like most guys you’ve encountered would, he’s listening closely and speaking diligently without forcing the attention on himself.

Despite being focused on the subject, he doesn’t misses the occasional opportunities to glance at you though; to check on how you’re doing with a gallant smile. You keep looking forward to these moments like a kid anticipating the moment to lay hands on the presents Santa left under the tree.

As you wait for the dessert an idea forms in your head which maybe isn’t the best. It’s definitely not appropriate, but that’s what makes it so fun.

You pick up your phone, determined to act on your impulses and the few sips of wine that fueled your body with courage.

21:12 [Y/N] You look very handsome tonight

You hit send.

You’re either going to make the first move tonight or you’re gonna have to return home disappointed that you never took the chance to try.

You’re leaving the day after tomorrow - there’s no more time to waste.

You and Gunil lock eyes as he reads your unexpected text. The corners of his mouth curl with satisfaction while yours with a hint of mischief.

21:13 [Goo Gunil] Thanks, Y/N

21:13 [Goo Gunil] And you look beautiful

21:13 [Y/N] Every day or just tonight?

21:13 [Goo Gunil] Actually, you get more and more beautiful every time I see you

Your stomach flips at the compliment and you breathe in, trying to take control over your expressions. You don’t want the people around you to catch onto your doing.

As you’re about to type in your reply another message pops up.

21:14 [Goo Gunil] Every time I’ve gotten distracted during my lessons was all because of your beauty

You cannot stop yourself from peeking at him as he’s still staring down at his lap.

21:14 [Goo Gunil] Are you saying that usually I’m not handsome though?

This time you both lift your heads up at the exact same time. You raise your brows as in really? to which Gunil shrugs shoulders. His amused face now has a hint of mischief too, something you haven’t seen him radiating before.

21:15 [Y/N] No, I said that tonight you look very handsome… in a way that makes me wish it was just the two of us right now

You click the send button and your heart rate goes up. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster that’s about to drop from its highest point.

The jazzy music in the background doesn't do anything to calm you down. In fact, it somehow reminds you how badly you're in need of relief.

21:15 [Goo Gunil] What would you want us to do if we were alone?

The chatter on the table fades away as your mind goes through all the possible answers you can give.

21:16 [Goo Gunil] Stop biting your lip, love. Someone will notice.

And that’s when Gunil locks his phone, because the man next to him turns with a question.

He swiftly dives back into the conversation, smoothing down the front of his suit while perfecting his posture. As if nothing happened.

You, on the other hand, have to take a sip of water.

You’re not patient enough to wait for their interaction to come to another temporary end. You pick up your phone again and continue where you left off.

21:18 [Y/N] I had a wet dream about you last night, it woke me up around five thirty in the morning

Is this too much?

Even if if is, you start to ponder the question after you drop the bomb in your chat with him.

Maybe you should delete it while he still hasn’t seen the notification? Or maybe you should leave it and add more?

21:19 [Y/N] Had to hump my pillow to go back to sleep

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

Gunil’s voice makes you look up. His one hand adjusts his black tie and you peek at his evident veins; the luxurious watch on his wrist.

“Yeah, I did.” You reply, closing the chat. “Now I’m craving something sweet.”

To Gunil the smile on your lips looks more devilish than appreciative. He can feel tension by staring at it - one that excites him more than anything or anyone here in this atmospheric room.

“Excuse me for a moment.” You stand up from your seat.

Gunil’s gaze travels up your silhouette with a spark of curiosity as you excuse yourself. Once he spots the cellphone in your hand he remembers to check his own.

He decides not to answer to your last audacious text, but to wait two to three minutes so he can follow you.

Just like you hoped he will.

“You know, it’s a little bit rude to come eat dessert away from the guests.”

Gunil stares at you with hands hidden in the pockets of his dress pants, and you shamelessly check out his elegant figure after acknowledging his presence in the kitchen.

“I just needed some more water,” you smile amused, leaning back against the counter. You expect him to take few steps forward and that’s exactly what he does.

You wonder if he’s seen your last messages so your eyes stay alert for clues. He does seem a little bit tense as he gets closer without leaving you out of sight.

“Is that all you needed?”

Your breath slows down when his hand moves a strand of hair away from your face.

He is so concentrated on your bold expression softening that his head tilts to one side as if he’s admiring a painting.

You can tell that he’s read your dirty confession by the way his lips stay still meanwhile his eyes crease with a smile that captivates you with its amorous intents.

“No,” you reply, “and I don’t think you came here only to refill your cup either.”

Gunil nods, impressed by your observation. He leaves the glass behind you the moment you blurt out the question:

“Are you seeing someone?”

“No, are you?” He asks back right away, staring down at your foot that’s moving up his ankle. The seductive act makes his lips separate again, but he remains wordless as your hand surprises him by gently, but very intentionally, grabbing his tie.

“No.” You invite him even closer and the scent of his expensive cologne wraps around you. “It’s just me and my pillow.” You giggle at his ear as your fingers keep onto his tie.

Gunil bites his lip, unable to handle the effects of your erotic chuckles properly - they sound innocent, but he’s perfectly aware of how opposite of that you are.

The sudden closeness and the rush from your mouth warming his neck makes him gulp as if he’s a man stranded on a desert.

“Y/N,” he breathes out almost like he’s in pain. Worried his knees might betray him, he rests hands on the counter behind you.

The way Gunil utters your name makes you even dizzier than his musky scent that’s pleasing your senses as you press your lips ever so gently. And you can almost feel it… the tension in his jaw, the thumping of his heartbeat, the saliva pooling in his mouth.

“Hm?” You kiss his neck one more time before guiding your open mouth higher. Your tongue sneaks out slightly, because you can’t help but turn more sloppy. “What’s holding you back? You’re not my professor anymore.”

“For now.” Gunil states through heavy breath. Your lips softly suck on the skin of his neck and he keeps his eyes shut to focus on every small movement. “What if you have to take another one of my classes next year?”

“Well,” you move back to peer into his glossed over eyes, “I see that as something beneficial for me, you always motivate me to be a better student, sir…”

You drop the title through a teasing smile; his tie too.

“Don’t call me that.” Gunil loosens up the tight knot around his neck as he huffs at you flustered rather than annoyed.

Don’t know how, but you’re pressing some buttons that are causing him to act coy. It’s not just his professional background anymore. It’s you.

“How should I call you then?”

Your cheeky question follows by a small gasp of surprise; a pleasant surprise brought by his hands grasping at your sides and swiftly lifting you up to place you on the countertop.

He’s now settled between your thighs, swallowing at the tempting sight of your confident mouth that just cannot stay silent.

“Try with my name.” His gaze moves up your chest and stops at your eyes. Their expression changes during the second you speak out his name, slowly and quietly, laced with desire.

“Gunil,” you repeat it afterwards while musing, “I didn’t get the chance to answer your question earlier.”

“That’s right,” he cannot suppress the intrigued smile creeping up as he stands so close you can mix each other’s breaths. He’s surprised by himself and how long he’s lasted without kissing you; touching you the way he really wants to. “Tell me, please.”

Each word of his speech slips out more airy than the previous one. His thumbs fidget with the hem of your dress which distracts both of you, but him in a more dangerous way.

“If we were alone on that dinner table I would’ve asked you to stop holding back and kiss me.”

For a while you gaze at each other’s faces that have been familiar to one another for months, but not like this… You both make sure you acknowledge every little emotion that you awake inside one another as they’re many and most of them feel brand new.

“We are alone right now, aren’t we?” He’s conscious of the fact that he would never do this if it’s another girl in front of him right now. He’d never allow himself to get in this position, during such an important evening, with any other girl. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Stop holding back.” The commanding tone that escapes you boosts your body with adrenaline rush; you can only imagine what it does to his.

Gunil’s hands move to your waist as he crashes his lips onto yours with such strong greediness burning inside him, one he’s never felt before.

You’re about to lurch back but he holds you close with his arms. It feels so stirring, so fulfilling to be finally lost in his embrace, and into the lushness of his kiss.

At the back of Gunil’s neck your fingertips are making their way up into his hairline and once your nails tease his scalp you welcome a thrilling groan from his mouth right into your throat.

“Fuck!” He grunts in a whisper as even your nails running through his hair brings shockwaves through his body… let alone the way your legs keep him trapped against your chest.

“More,” you murmur in a rush, wanting to have as much of him in this short period of time as possible.

Your eyes close from the pleasure of his mouth attaching to your neck then they squeeze shut as you try to control the urge to hump Gunil’s hand after he places it exactly where you’ve been in desperate need of friction.

“Ah, yeah—“ You put your own hand on top of his and press harder as his gentle nibbles on your skin arouse you even further. “Gunil,” you moan in the process of rubbing yourself against his palm one more time.

“Is this what you did to your pillow last night?” He whispers at your ear while pushing your panties to the side. His middle finger slips in effortlessly and that’s when your eyes open to look at him; the arousing glow flickering at him is indescribable, the amount of arousal welcoming him through your walls too. “Is that how you were humping it?”

The thought of you, - the student he's always had his eyes on, - half-asleep and grinding a pillow in order to get off while he’s sleeping on the other side of the wall still hasn’t sunk in fully yet.

“You’re such a dirty girl.”

His hand speeds up and your legs start to dangle in the air as the rush floods your veins in the rhythm of his finger. Instead of answering right away, you let your jaw fall open while you take a moment to comprehend how fast the sensation is overpowering you.

“Shit, you’re squeezing so hard,” Gunil comments under his breath then notices you reaching for your clit. “And you’re so fuckin' tight—”

“I wanted you to walk in on me,” you interrupt him as your fingers that snuck into your underwear start rubbing in circles, “and fuck me… so badly.” The speedy stimulation on your sensitive spot adds to your growing arousal and everything doubles once you sense another firm finger pushing through your entrance.

“You’re not gonna take me easily, love.” Gunil’s lips slide upwards against your cheek from your struggling to swallow a whine before he changes up the pace.

“Fuck!” Your eyes roll back and you’re seconds away from falling over the coffee machine when he starts thrusting into your deepest point instead of gliding his fingers like he did a moment ago.

Your sounds multiply dangerously.

“Shhh,” Gunil hushes you with his spare hand by pushing two fingers through your lips that you suck on straight away; your glossy eyes lock with his own as you do so.

As much as he wants to hear you in all your glory he can’t allow it, and he empties your mouth once it’s clear that you’re coming down from your peak.

A moment later, when your sqeezing draws to a close, Gunil pulls out his knuckles slowly, evidently connected with a sticky string of your essence. It’s when you look down and take a notice of it that you realise you’re still grasping at his arm. You don’t let go right away though, you guide it up and after adjusting his hand steady between the two of you, you lean in with tongue sticking out.

The slow lick and the piercing lustful gaze let Gunil know that after you get a taste of his slick fingers he should do the same too.

And he does which earns him a flattered smile from you.

“Drop by my room later.” You say, sounding slightly different, like everything around you is in slow motion. Before you jump off the counter to fix your dress and join back the gathering, you quickly peck Gunil’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Although you’ve been expecting it, the cautious knocking at your door still makes you jump in your place with excitement that has you leaving the bed the second you hear the signal.

Gunil walks in with a missing tie and a glass of whiskey in hand. He’s had only few sips from it, and once he leaves it on your nightstand in order to pull you in, the sensation transfers from his mouth into yours.

You can sense his experience along with the alcoholic taste as his tongue leads yours with sensual swirling. The thrill has you humming as his palms find your ass and squeeze it through your dress.

Seems like neither of you could bother change clothing; the only thing on your minds was how long do you have to wait for the night to end so you can be alone again.

Each step you take towards the bed, each touch and exchange of spit as your kissing intensifies, gradually enhances the dominant side creeping inside you. It’s your need to make him feel good, to perform for him and relieve him from the pressure that’s been lingering all night in his body. It makes your touch noticeably greedy and assertive.

Gunil’s hands that were roaming all over your silhouette, unable to focus on one place for too long, now sink into the mattress after you push him on his back.

He lifts his head up from the pillows right away to not miss on your next move.

“Do you like what you see?” You strip from your dress and leave it to fall in your feet. The pressure in his crotch is noticable from here and it makes your smile stretch wider.

“I love what I see,” Gunil replies and he doesn’t only seem focused on the view, he sounds like he’s hypnotised by it. He traces your bare legs then your upper body as you get on the bed, crawling your way to him. He’s smitten. “I’d like to feel it too.”

“No rush, handsome,” you straddle his lap. “The night is ours.” The bump beneath you feels so exciting that you automatically rub against it once you sit on top of him.

Gunil sighs from the nice friction and closes his eyes for a second before fixating them on the satisfying view once again. The urge to grip and feel your curves grows the longer he stares at your pretty lingerie that looks like it was made for you, but he prefers to let you choose the pace.

You take his hands and slowly drag them up your figure to encourage him to explore. Once you reach your breasts you make sure to squeeze them together before you retrieve in order to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pleased to see Gunil’s fingertips remaining there, sinking further into your plush flesh with each pinch. Despite their slight roughness they still manage to knead with gentle motions that seem surprisingly restful in comparison to his erection perhaps.

Revealing the skin of his chest, and three more buttons later - the skin of his toned abs, - still makes your mouth water despite the fact you’ve already seen them.

“How do you even find time to go to the gym?” You run your hands up and down after leaving the shirt open, relishing the way his own drop to your hips.

“I make it work.” He replies, planning to pull you down and kiss you, but the opportunity slips away after you reach for his drink to take a sip.

There’s a very strong spark gleaming in your gaze that reflects the naughty thoughts drifting in your mind as the heavy glass remains in your hand. The sensation tingles in your throat rather enjoyably than fiery thanks to the ice that’s lowering the temperature of the whiskey.

“I can tell.”

You savor the taste despite not being one of your favorites simply because it’s his.

Regardless of acknowledging that mischievous glow, Gunil is unable to guess your next move until you steal the ice cube from his drink. His adam’s apple bobs after he swallows at the sight of you sucking on the shape erotically.

Now he catches onto your ideas, and his arms loosen up onto the bedsheets as an agreement; a silent sign of succumbing to you.

The cold thrill on his warm skin, sudden and sharp, makes Gunil hiss quietly.

His muscles tense up as he takes few seconds to adjust. The excitement continues to creep strongly into his body, and with the cold sensation now trickling down his stomach, the pressure completely envelops his dick into an even more arousing delight.

You move the shape slowly in different directions, allowing it to melt from the heat of his body that keeps shuddering. The thrill feels entirely new and an overwhelming expression contorts his face.

He’s already learning to like it.

“It’s twitching,” you point out with a pleased smile which brings a subtle blush to Gunil’s cheeks; your freezing fingertips lift the cube in the air for a quick moment so you can enjoy the sight of the water dripping down his abs which are tensing deliciously from the drastic change of temperature. “I can feel how hard you are.”

You hear a soft cussing sound escaping his mouth as you lean in. You expose your flat tongue and run it up against the wet surface of his chest, turning the greedy lick into a sensual open mouthed kiss which isn’t the only one you end up giving his iced upper body. The tip of your tongue twirls around his nipple before your soft lips tease him with a gentle suck that forces the first moan out of him.

He’s been managing to suppress his sounds pretty well until now. The only reason you can think of for that is shyness though he sounds so appealing… low, intense and breathy because of the icy-cold thrill still coating his skin.

You scatter more kisses onto his chest and beneath his collarbone, but your hips quit being still after you move to nibble on the side of his neck; they sway with each movement of your mouth. The feeling of his length, solid hard and pushing through the clothing, makes you want to grind against it again and again.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Gunil is on the verge of pleading.

Until he grips your sides and flips you over in a flash.

His arms lock you beneath him before you shift to rest on your elbows, blinking at him in awe.

“Do you want me?” Your question slips airy as you caress his lips with the now smaller ice cube between your fingers.

Aglowed by the way he peers into your eyes you’re unable to think about anything else than feeling him inside you.

“Are you really that oblivious to so many things, love?”

“No,” you respond amused while reaching for his belt after tossing the ice cube away, “I like to pretend I am.”

You pull down the zipper then Gunil steps on the floor to remove his pants. You expect him to get rid of his underwear too, but instead he surprises you by kneeling and pulling you closer by the legs. Now you’re positioned on the edge of the bed and with his mouth inches away from your heat.

He makes his way further with few pecks on your left inner thigh before moving your panties to one side so he can expose your folds. A small sigh, mixture of surprise and relief that you’re close to having some of the pressure relieved by his touch, slips from your lips.

“Beautiful,” Gunil exhales right after you once he separates your intimate lips with two fingers; to see you in more details and to check if you’re as wet as you were few hours ago on the kitchen counter.

His mouth dives in and he’s not being cautious or hesitant as you thought he might be. He’s moving greedy but somehow his tongue motions stimulate your body with tenderness that makes you place a hand on top of his head.

“Fuck—“ you put enough amount of pressure and feel his nose pushing nicely against your clit; his flat tongue pressing more insistently, turning his mind foggy with the sweet taste it’s collecting with each lick. “Would you ever… have me like this in your cabinet?”

You tug on his hair as a sign for him to look up. Once he does, you notice his eyes are glazed over with sensuality that has your heart fluttering; his lips are glistening and puffy all because of you.

“In the same cabinet I share with two more people?”

You nod playfully while tugging at his collar; as much as you like the touch of his mouth you need to be on top of him as soon as possible.

“Obviously they’re not staying there all day,” you comment as he gets rid of his black underwear. The sudden view of his thickness, the way you can already tell how heavy it would feel in your hand makes you go silent mid sentence; your lips form an oh before you simply ask: “Can I?”

Gunil steps forward summoned by your voice. His hand lowers his erection as you kneel on the bed with tongue eager to explore the oozing spot of his tip.

Both of you hum in bliss just seconds apart; you because of his taste, and he, because of the thrill of having your lips hugging the head of his cock. His hips slowly rock forward in order to invite more of his length between your hollowed cheeks and move backwards as you glance up at him with look in your eyes that has him suppressing cusses.

“Take it slow baby,” he whispers after noticing the way you force your mouth to stretch wider, to take more and endure more of his size. “You’re doing good already.”

Your fingers go around the base as you drag your slick lips thoroughly; muffling little sounds every time you welcome his tip deeper. Once you sense a slight pain spreading in your jaw you decide to empty your mouth and stroke him top to bottom while catching your breath.

Gunil watches your saliva being smeared everywhere, marking the sheets with dark wet spots.

“I’ll do even better once I sit on it.” You give his tip one last kiss and shift to the other side of the bed so he can lay down. “Leave the shirt on, please.”

Gunil breathes out a chuckle at your request, but truthfully he cannot deny that he does feel a certain satisfaction from the fact you get turned on by seeing him like this.

Does this mean you’ve been aroused during some of his lectures?

He gets a hold of your waist and looks down where your hand is guiding him at your entrance. He was going to do it himself, but your neediness has you moving quicker.

“Mmm…” you shut your eyes as the moisture dripping out of you coats the head of his cock. This allows your walls to accept him more easily with a slight hint of pain that feels thrilling than discomforting. You move up and down slowly, not sinking all the way fully yet, and feeling the gradual stretching. “Fuck, it’s so big…”

Gunil’s mouth lets out a quiet but intense groan as his supportive fingertips sink into your flesh. The compliment causes him to twitch as you still adjust to half of his size.

“And you’re taking it well, baby.”

“Am I?”

After you stretch enough, you sink down smoothly till your ass touches his lap, then you roll your hips, wanting to really feel every inch of him rub against your aroused walls. You moan from delight as you repeat the motion, allowing your clit to gain some friction against his skin.

The moment you build a nice pace Gunil’s hands leave your waist only to land in a light smack against your hips and grip tightly again. It’s so fun watching him do everything he possibly can to control himself… when the pleasure is so high, inevitably tempting you to drop whatever’s left of your good behaviour.

“You fill me so good,” you mutter rocking back and forth as the hot rush inside both of you grows in waves. Your attention shifts to Gunil’s eyes fluttering shut and his mouth opening wider so close to moaning between his heavy breaths. “Look at me.”

Your bra slips from your figure and gets thrown away after Gunil’s darkened gaze fixates on you.

“You’re freakin’ gorgeous.” He turns hypnotised the second he lays eyes on your boobs that are beautifully shaped and exactly what was needed to provoke those enticing sounds to finally start escaping his lips.

You begin to bounce up and down to make the view even more compelling for him along with the sensation magnifying every time you drop to hit that desired spot inside you.

“Fuck—” You breathe out shakily; your fingertips dance onto his lower stomach as you maintain the same rhythm with his hands holding your ass. “I want to c-cum already…”

“Shit,” Gunil grunts before a strong hitched groan stops him from saying more.

His sounds are changing in a way that has you thinking he might not be able to last long.

You drop forward with hands sinking into the cushion beneath his head as you steady yourself; this way you can bounce even faster while feeling his breath on your face.

“Fuck, baby—“ Gunil’s mind starts to glitch as it comprehends only one thing - how you’re clenching harder around him and it’s going to make him burst. “Slow down,” he whispers in one quick breath, squeezing your ass cheeks as a weak warning, unsuccessful one.

“But I want you to cum inside me, Gunil...” You make sure to coo his name at his ear that’s subtly reddish like the rest of his features. Judging by the rough frustration that’s almost wrapped in a whine when it slips from his tongue - it seems to have an immediate effect. “I want it now,” you pant, keeping your hips moving as his jaw tenses beneath you, “while I’m riding your big cock soo well, just the way you deserve it.”

His dick feels immensely hard, stuck between your pulsing walls that keep throbbing as it glides through them, pushing both of you over the edge seconds apart.

Hearing your own sounds rising higher, but not too much as you’re cautious about them slipping through the walls, was the only thing you needed in order to reach the rush. Though your encouraging words definitely had an impact too… Gunil likes the way he feels whenever you talk to him like that, provocatively, subtly demanding, meanwhile you like seeing his whole body respond to you.

You remain still and flushed against one another, with hearts thumping in sync as his cum turns you even warmer. You’re unsure how many minutes have passed before you lift up from the crook of his neck to meet his eyes.

His face has an obvious tint of red, his lips too, and there’s no sign of his neat hairstyle from earlier because of your playful fingers. His gaze is dazed by the aftermath, but also from the few sips of whiskey as it alternates between your eyes and your mouth until it stops where your bodies are still connected, because you decide to regain control.

Just like that Gunil’s face gets marked by a new expression that can only be interpreted as a sign of his sensitivity which hasn’t faded away yet. His brows knit together, but he doesn’t try anything to stop you after he lifts up from his back.

“More?” He just asks through a lazy smile as one of his hands grasps the sheets.

“More.” You reply and hang your arms from his shoulders. As you shift to wrap your legs loosely around his body his arms go around your frame and stay there as you grind against him with mellow but such stirring motions. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sleepy already?”

“How can I ever sleep when I’m with you?”

The presence of this slight raspiness in Gunil’s usually smooth voice only adds to the new rush forming beneath your skin. It suits his attractive fucked out face so perfectly.

For a while, your lower half wasn’t rushing the pleasure at all. You took few minutes in order for both of you to adjust to your bodies reacting to the awaken stimulation that’s merging with sensitivity. But that overwhelming mixture of emotions quickly gets conquered by pure staggering satisfaction, and that same satisfaction quickly overpowers you to the point you can’t do anything else but give into your impulses.

In contrast, Gunil can only still and watch you speed up, hazing over his mind in the process.

“Oh, God—” His voice, now ringing with a higher pitch, shakes close to your ear as he grazes his teeth against your skin. It’s not possible for him to contain the approaching whines that multiply in his throat as you slow down every so often to catch your breath before strengthening your rhythm again. “Sweetheart, pretty…” The pleasing names come out one after another in a rush with no coherent thought to follow after them, but they feel like a passionate kiss on your neck and you enjoy them nonetheless.

You take his face with one hand while the other continues to claw at his tense shoulder through the unbuttoned shirt.

“Do you like how I ride it, hm?” You stare at Gunil’s parted lips, not caring if he’s going to answer or not; you enjoy seeing his unability to think straight enough already. Your hips keep rolling forward, causing more of his cum to seep out of you and trickle down his aroused veiny girth. “You like how I move, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he draws out as your nails sink into his cheeks; seconds later his voice cracks. “Fuck, Y/N!”

Your name drops through such an intense groan, quaky and tantalizing as a result of your pulsing grip suddenly letting go. You can feel new load of adrenaline rush shooting through as his voice echoes into your mind.

Gunil’s head falls back before you make him face you by covering his trembling lips with one hand.

“Keep it down,” you warn him with a smile; you can’t hide how excited you are to do this even if you try. “I’m sorry, I knew you were about to cum.”

You move your palm away and sink back down again. But before that, you make sure to get a taste of him by gathering some of his cum from your folds and licking it from your fingers.

For a moment Gunil’s eyes squeeze with frustration as the tightness wraps back around him.

“You’re naughty.” The corners of his mouth tug charmingly at you. Even the simple way you run your hands along the sleeves of his shirt arouses him right now as you rock your lower body forward, elevating the sensation. “Your mind is full of filthy thoughts, isn’t it?”

You bite your lip at the question before a short gasp opens your mouth as an instant response to the firm presence of his hands on the sides of your body.

“They keep you awake at night,” he teases before suppressing an intense groan. He grasps your hips strongly, preventing you from making another move and peers into your eyes that light up from surprise.

“Gunil,” you whine quietly. You’re already aching for friction… for movement, anything.

He’s not sure how, but Gunil manages to gather his efforts and put your motions to an end in order to switch things around. As much as he loves watching you like this he cannot stand not having you the way you’re meant to be had by him.

Next time maybe he’ll leave you to have your fun for longer, but for tonight it’s enough.

“I like how you move, sweetheart,” he moves his hands up your skin till they reach your boobs, “but I can move faster… much harder.” His mouth salivates at the fragile sound of your humming as his thumbs circle around your nipples. “I know that’s what’s been going through your pretty little head.”

“Okay,” you sigh. The offer is difficult to resist.

“Yeah?” Gunil seeks one last confirmation.

You nod eagerly, letting go of his shirt. “Yeah, please…”

You’re just about to lay on your back when he flips you the other way around, adjusting you on all fours before slipping back inside you.

Your lips muffle a groan after your hair gets pulled back, slowly but surely with a little bit of pain that makes your skin run hotter.

“Down, pretty girl.” His lips utter at your ear as the hand on the back of your skull forces you lower.

Gunil knows you’re not going to be quiet at all so he needs to take measurements beforehand.

The sheets soak the first wail of yours the moment he begins to thrust forward which he does the second your face sinks into the mattress. A build up is useless after you’re both on the verge of falling apart for the second time; there’s no need to say anything either, because you both already share the same mutual desires.

“Fuck, there you go,” he grunts between thrusts, but he’s not even sure you can acknowledge his voice at this point. “Much better, isn’t it, sweetheart? I know exactly what a perverse girl like you needs.”

Shortly after, you start to grip onto him so tightly that you threaten his pace to slow down, but Gunil succeeds in avoiding that from happening. He skilfully continues to slam into you as the new climax creeps into your core. There’s a burning knot inside him begging for his attention too, but at this moment he’s fully focused on your pleasure and how it makes you clench desperately.

“Good girl,” he hisses, approving of the way your suppressed sounds intensify and turn rougher as he keeps your head shoved down; the way you plead wordlessly for your orgasm with fists squeezing furiously on the sheets. “I know, darling, I know… just … take it.”

Three more hits of Gunil’s strong hips are needed for the pressure inside you to burst and spread wildly in every part of your being. As you were completely still standing for him, now you’re suddenly squirming under his frame, unable to control your body as you lose grip on reality too.

As the fog that swept through your mind begins to slowly fade a sudden nudge into your soaked walls causes one last whimper from you. This time it was heard loud and clear as you were catching your breath with head lifted off the bed.

Gunil wraps an arm around your shoulders and swiftly presses you against his heaving chest, causing another whine of you with the way his bicep settles under your chin.

“You want me to fill your pretty cunt again?”

Your nails dig into his muscles as you nod eagerly, shutting your eyes at the feeling of his cock that slowed down, but continues to push deeper.

“So fuckin’ needy. I can ruin you if we keep going like this.”

And with this, he pushes you back down in your previous position; the one where you stay still and quiet for him, but clearly on the verge of falling apart.

Gunil doesn’t need to chase anything; few deep strong pushes into your pool of arousal are enough to bring him the same buzzing rush.

You’re trembling like a leaf as he waits for the rush to fade before he pulls out and lets you lay down.

Is he going to hurry to return to his room now?

You hope not, although you’re leaving with your parents early tomorrow morning on Christmas Eve and it will be good for you to get few hours of sleep.

But that’s not what you want; despite your body being tired, your mind is feeling more than awake right now.

You shove the question away, wanting to focus on only one thing - his arms wrapping around you, pulling you to his chest. And the peaceful sound of his heartbeat that ends up lulling you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

──── ❆ ────

two days later

An unexpected ringing of the doorbell has you putting the show you’re in the middle of watching on pause.

You’re still puzzled when you find out that a mysterious package has arrived for you. You immediately take it to your room.

Once you open the festively decorated box you see a Christmas card laying on top of a red wrapping paper. You’re excited to see what the present looks like, but you’re more eager to read what Gunil has written to you that couldn’t be said on the phone.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N!

I hope you’re enjoying your free time with your family. Classes start next week so you should make the most of your break while you still can.

Recently I got informed that the upcoming spring semester you’ll be choosing between two elective courses: children’s literature and characteristics of language in different media. If by any chance you’re not aware already, the latter is one of the disciplines that I’m teaching. Thought I should let you know so you have some extra time to consider which one is going to be more beneficial for your degree. (You can keep a secret, right?)

No matter what your decision is by the end, I’d like to see you again… at a nice dinner. Just the two of us this time.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @hwamphwamp ; @certifiedmarkleetrash ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

[maxdibert]

Why do you think Snape still became "friends" with death eater wannabes at school when he had a good influence on his side - Lily a muggleborn who wasn't afraid to stand up for her beliefs? He did have someone to influence him to the good side so why did he still choose the bad guys?

Because, basically, he was alone in a house full of purebloods who, at that time, had an enormous level of influence, where you either adapted or perished. It was better for him to adapt because outside of that, all he had were a bunch of idiots bullying him all day. Lily could have been a good influence, but:

Lily had no responsibility whatsoever to "rescue" anyone, especially being a child/teen herself. The system failed Severus. The Muggle world system condemned him to poverty and left him in the hands of an abusive father. The Magical world system failed him by allowing the bullying to happen, by not preventing it, by not protecting him, and even forcing him to stay silent about the bullying. Ultimately, they had no control over what was happening within the school walls. But Lily? She had nothing to do with this because we’re not going to place the responsibility of pulling a friend out of the abyss on the shoulders of a teenager (a girl, no less).

Lily doesn’t seem to have taken Severus’s situation very seriously either. In Snape’s memories, she downplays the things the Marauders did to him, and when she eventually cuts ties with him, she even suggests that their bullying wasn’t that bad because “at least they didn’t use dark magic.” Lily’s value system seems to have been somewhat convenient in that sense.

One person alone cannot handle the weight of a toxic social ecosystem. Lily was supposedly very popular and had her own friendships. Obviously, she wasn’t spending all her time with Severus (understandably, she wasn’t his babysitter), and it wasn’t her responsibility or duty to keep him away from bad influences.

The future Death Eaters offered Severus several things: acceptance for the first time, despite his background, his lack of a notable name, and the social ostracism caused by James and Sirius. They offered him a sense of belonging, a chance to be part of something. They offered him a perspective for the future, the possibility of social mobility, and the hope of rising above living in a dusty shack in a miserable Muggle neighborhood. For someone in his context, with his traumas of abandonment and violence, this wasn’t just tempting—it was an easy sell. So it’s not much of a mystery why he did it. Severus is like many other vulnerable boys from low-income families and dysfunctional homes who end up in gangs, cults, or extremist religious or political groups. He had the perfect profile to be dazzled by certain ideas if they came with the promise of a future he couldn’t even dream of as a child.

[aperrywilliams]

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

-----

Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home. 

It doesn't feel like it yet. 

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up? 

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable. 

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it. 

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

-

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted. 

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name. 

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night. 

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?' 

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there. 

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird. 

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice. 

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago. 

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me? 

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala. 

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless. 

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes. 

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?" 

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling. 

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)? 

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

-------------

Next -> Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 3 - Dark On Me

18+ | 2.9k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | Unresponsive Aegon | half sister reader - you're a princess now! Fastest elevation in class ever! wholesome, fluff, severe injury and burns, mentions of death and other bad things, but still... this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

Ok! This chapter was actually very emotional for me to write. I think sometimes I put my mind too closely into that of my characters, because as I was imagining several parts of this chapter from the reader's perspective, I found myself tearing up. Hopefully that emotion comes across in the work and makes it better.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - Dark on Me I especially like the line - 'But I found in you what was lost in me.. In a world so cold and empty.' Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made all the gifs myself again! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

You hear the horns sound and watch from the balustrade as the procession makes its way through the city up towards the Red Keep. The soldiers return from battle victorious, carting the head of Meleys upon a wagon, but you haven’t seen Sunfyre return yet and nobody will tell you what has become of the king. You’ve heard his mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, mention Aegon in hushed whispers with some council members, but she has not deemed you worthy to share whatever information she has.

Even with the king’s decree elevating your status to that of princess, none will tell you what has happened. You must assume the worst. As the caravan draws closer to the castle, you can see another cart led by two horses. It carries what appears to be a casket covered by many blankets and your heart sinks at the thought of your most dire fears come true.

He cannot be dead. No, no. You won’t accept it.

You rush down to the courtyard, to await the arrival of your king, praying to any gods that might listen that he is still alive. A large contingent of the Kingsguard greet you outside and you feel even more strongly now that your assumption must be true. That Aegon is indeed in that wooden tomb, very likely deceased, but your heart still holds out hope that you’re wrong. The massive gates open to the inner wall of the keep and you watch with despair as the wagon is pulled forward.

As the wooden cart stops, your eyes dart to and fro as men step up to bear the casket forth. You catch the gaze of one of the white cloaks standing near you, and plead with him for answers. “Is he dead?” you whisper, desperate to know the fate of the man who had asked you to be his.

He offers a knowing expression of remorse, but nothing more. You are forced to follow behind as six men carry the king inside, be he dead or alive. You can’t help but wonder where everyone is. Where is his mother? His brother? Where is the small council? Is nobody here to witness the return of the king? You can’t help but to cry quietly as you follow the men of the City Watch and Kingsguard combined with your hung head low.

They carry the massive wooden crate all through the castle, heading upstairs until they enter Maegor’s Holdfast. You pass by Queen Helaena who is standing outside of her chambers, observing the procession with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if they had kept the truth from her as well. When your eyes lock onto each others, her features twist with curiosity at the sight of your tears, but there is no malice present.

Helaena has never been rude or cruel to you, despite her knowledge of your role in Aegon’s life. She almost seemed grateful that you were able to offer him the companionship that she could not. The queen did not follow further, opting to stay back, likely having a sense that even more tragedy was on the horizon. You didn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t change that you must know. You had to see with your own eyes what had become of your love, Aegon.

As the doors to the king’s chambers opened, your gaze fell upon Alicent standing to the side by the windows. Of course she had known, but chose to leave you in the dark, suffering alone with your doubts and fears. When she saw you, she averted her eyes for a moment, her facade of calm cracking slightly before she steeled herself and offered you a nod. You returned the gesture with a trembling lower lip stepping aside to watch what came next.

They removed the lid of the casket and a whimper escaped your lips as one soldier took Aegon’s sword, Blackfyre, from within and placed it to the side with reverence. The soldiers cleared the room as men dressed in black heaved a dark canvas bag from within the wooden coffer. The sight of this actually made you fall to your knees with grief, finally seeing proof that Aegon was not of this world anymore.

A lamenting wail throbbed through your chest as they placed Aegon’s body on the bed. Your hand clutched the footboard as you fell down on one knee, barely keeping yourself upright. Alicent came to stand beside you, and you barely noticed the presence of the maesters entering through your sobbing.

“Is he alive?” the Queen Dowager asked with a mixture of shock and trepidation. The words stopped your weeping instantly as you pulled yourself up and leaned over the bedframe.

“His Grace, remains with us, for the moment,” Grand Maester Orwyle answered somberly.

You let out whining gasp that makes you sound like a pathetic animal, but you can’t help it. “He was alive? And you carted him through the streets as though he were a corpse!?” You cannot help but cry out as you stare accusingly at Alicent, appalled by the treatment he’d received.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” the Queen Dowager replies looking bewildered as the sight before her seemed to sink in. “They told me.. They thought it would be best that nobody saw the injuries he sustained.”

You stop your outrage, realizing that she likely didn’t know the extent of the damage either. Still, you wish she would have confided in you what little she had known so that you might have better prepared for this.

Orwyle takes an instrument from his medical kit and begins to remove pieces of Aegon’s armor. The more you look, the more you begin to understand what has happened to him. The entire left side of his body, from his head all the way down to his leg, has been scorched by dragonflame. His arm appears to have been dealt the brunt of the damage, where the Valyrian steel has melted into his limb, leaving it a gored tangle of flesh and metal.

A cry threatens to escape your lips once more, but you stifle it. There will be time for sobbing later, but for now you wish to keep yourself preoccupied. “I wish to help,” you say desperately, but everyone is so busy at work that nobody even responds. “Please,” you ask again, your brows furrowed with anguish. “I need to help.”

Alicent offers a glance at one of the maesters assisting Orwyle and from there, a chain reaction of assent occurs, until finally a young man tugs your arm and pulls you to the side.

“You can aid me in making the poultices,” he says softly. You cannot possibly express how grateful you are for the opportunity to stay busy, while attempting to save your king. You offer the Queen Dowager an appreciative look from across the room and return to learning how to prepare the treatment for Aegon.

It is likely a good thing that you are not watching as they remove the king’s armor, for you can hear his ragged breaths and the gasp that startles from Alicent’s mouth in response to it.

“Is my son going to die?” she asks sounding petrified. You do not wish to hear it, but you can’t tune it out either.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Orwyle responds quietly, turning his head to regard the Queen Dowager for a moment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, these next hours are most critical.”

“Of course,” Alicent replies, taking a step back so that she’s no longer interfering with the healers work.

The young maester in training hands you a plate filled with individual leaves of steamed cabbage and notions for you to take it to the bed. “Take these,” he says quietly as a mouse. You don’t hesitate to obey, not wanting to hinder Aegon’s chances for survival.

You hold the tray out, leaning over Aegon’s bed, to an aged maester with a gray beard dressed all in dingy whites. He begins to take one piece at a time, placing the wraps at the bottom of Aegon’s broken leg and working his way up. Your hands shake slightly, but you do your best to stall your trembling so that you might be of use. Stealing a glance down the length of the bed, you see Orwyle sponging charred bits away from Aegon’s once pristine face.

Your heart aches, but you push it deep down. There will be time to grieve later if he dies, but you refuse to give into despair again before that actually happens.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” the cold and familiar voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn to your right and see Aemond standing there, dead center at the foot of Aegon’s bed. He had always seemed dangerous to you, but has never looked this unhinged before. You can’t help but wonder what might have happened at the battle of Rook’s Rest to change his demeanor so drastically. The way he looks at Aegon, it reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse, holding it by the tail and swatting at it.

You can’t help but wonder how he stands there without an ounce of concern for his brother. As your discomfort grows, you decide that you will have to keep an eye on the prince from now on. You swear solemnly to yourself, glaring at Aemond while you do so, that you will keep watch on the king as though your life depended on it. Just in case.

————

It has been a couple of days now and while Aegon has not yet woken, he has not yet passed into the arms of the Stranger either. He’s been cleaned up considerably, and his wounds all tended to. The only remnants of the horror you witnessed when he first arrived in the Red Keep being the charcoal still tinting his cheek and of course all of the burns that lace his left side. His broken leg is propped up to keep the blood from swelling, but otherwise Aegon looks peaceful in his slumber, despite the audible struggle he has breathing. You lay next to Aegon on the bed, unwilling to leave his side for any reason lest he might wake alone without a caring face to welcome him back. Nestled carefully against the side of him that is not horribly burnt, it almost feels comforting to feel his chest rise and fall beside you with a fire crackling in the hearth.

At first, you worried that Aegon might pass at any given moment, but once he was out of imminent danger, it became a waiting game. Inevitably boredom overcame you as the king continued to sleep. You took to cleaning to pass the time. First, washing and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the floor in his chambers despite the objection of everyone that came across your endeavoring to stay sane. You then moved onto dusting and cleaning out the tapestries. It was one of the few times you’d left the king’s chambers since he returned, but you wanted to take everything outside to be aired out, lest there be a dust storm within.

A soft sigh pulls you from your memories and your eyes open to see Alicent sitting at the side of Aegon’s bed. Her hand is clinging to his as she leans slightly onto the bed. You can tell from her expression that this whole situation has been very taxing on her. Within such a short span of time, she’s almost lost her eldest son and king, and been passed over for the regency of the realms in his absence for Aemond. Given the predatory way the new Prince Regent had been staring at Aegon days prior, this is a decision you wholeheartedly disagree with.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown to appreciate Alicent’s company. At first she seemed annoyed by your presence, but you can only assume that in seeing your dedication to her son, she’s softened towards you. She’s even shared several kind words with you, which felt incredibly awkward, especially when she began referring to you as ‘The Princess,’ a title you are still not accustomed to hearing anyone speak, let alone her.

The Queen Dowager had never acknowledged the decree previously, but then none of the acceptance really matters without Aegon here to share it with. He’d talked of marrying you upon his return and now you wondered if that would ever happen. Your fingers caress softly along his arm, a motion that has become almost involuntarily by now as you huddle to him, hoping that your touch will bring him back.

Alicent stands suddenly, her eyes bleary as she places a hand on her son’s good cheek. She almost looks afraid to get too close, as though admitting the depth of her care for him might somehow make it hurt more to lose him. She nods a soft ‘good night�� to you and goes to leave the room. You watch for a moment as the maester opens the door for her in anticipation, and rest your head back down on the pillow.

And that’s when you hear it, so quiet and coarse that you might have missed it if you had not been right beside him. “Mummy,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

You dart up from the bed with haste, looking at him incredulously, as though he had just risen from the dead. “Queen Dowager!” you cry out, not wishing to disturb him, but needing to get her attention. “Maesters! He spoke!” You realize you are laughing with relief as you call out to the them, brushing the backs of your knuckles upon Aegon’s cheek gently as you coo to him. “She is coming, my love.”

As Alicent rushes back to her son’s bedside, you both share a look of hopeful promise. “What did he say?” she asks, her eyes searching over Aegon as though he might move, and than glancing back to you.

“He said ‘Mummy,’” you answer with a smile, happy to see the look of touched gratitude that appears on her face.

“Oh my sweet son…” she trails off, seemingly unable to put words to how she is feeling. She stands beside him, reaching out with a little more confidence this time. “Mummy’s here,” she offers quietly as the two maesters on duty gather behind her.

Aegon lets out a gravelly sound, his breath hitching as he fights for consciousness.

“We’ll let Grand Maester Orwyle know of this development,” one of the men in white offers. “But if he is soon to be speaking with us, it is good news indeed.”

The Queen Dowager is in high spirits when she is finally ready to leave for the night, so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she says, looking you in the eyes as she rises from her chair. “You didn’t have to call me back, but I’m glad that you did.”

“Who am I to deny him his mother if that’s who he’s ask for?” you say as though there was no other possible outcome in your mind.

She smiles at you with a warmth she’s never shown you before, nodding slightly. “Will you have them fetch me if he wakes again?” she asks with fondness in her voice.

“Of course,” you reply, settling back into the bed beside Aegon. You are surprised when she walks around to your side of the bed, and proceeds to mother you under the covers.

“If you’re going to spend your nights in here, than the least you can do is keep comfortable,” Alicent says with a hint of jest in her tone.

It is definitely a touch strange as she pulls the blanket up and around you, tucking it underneath you slightly. It’s almost suffocating, but in a nice way. “Good night,” you say, turning on your side towards Aegon. You’ve practically made a nook at his side from the amount of time you’ve spent there by now.

“Sleep well,” Alicent calls as she extinguishes the candles, leaving nothing but the hearth to light the immediate vicinity. She ushers the maesters out of the room, with an authoritative pitch. “Get some rest for the night, my son is in good hands as you can plainly see.”

As the doors close and you’re left in silence, you can’t help but consider how sometimes the worst things in life can really help to bring people together. You’ve also seen tragedy tear relationships apart, but when something beautiful can blossom from the ashes of destruction, it almost feels like everything is going to be alright again. Like Aegon is going to wake up and get out of his bed and move on with his life. And when he does, he’ll find himself rousing to a world in which his mother might feel a little more comfortable showing her thanks for his company.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent. Despite all of the medicinal herbs and the lingering remnants of carbon, you can still smell him. You press a tender kiss on his neck, right below his ear, humming softly as you taste him on your lips.

Whispering softly, you beseech him with kindness, “I love you, Aegon.” You run the tip of your nose against his jawline, savoring the feel of him. “I’ll wait for you… As long as it takes. Just come back to me.”

[stolasbuckzo]

Subjective topics:

‘Once a cheater always a cheater’

Yes, in other circumstances where both parties are emotionally invested, I believe infidelity is considered cheating. I'm not justifying Stolas's actions, but legally, I feel that if he is unhappy, not emotionally engaged, and in an abusive relationship, he has the right to make those choices because he isn't emotionally committed to Stella.

The phrase "once a cheater, always a cheater" implies a repeated pattern, but I don't think that applies to Stolas. From what I understand, he had an affair with one person—multiple times with Blitz —because of his specific situation with Stella. Their relationship, in my view, was based purely on duty and the need to ensure there was an heir for the Goetia (royal) family

Stolas openly acknowledges his ‘infidelity’ to Stella at the end of “The Circus,” and I feel like this scene is often overlooked by so many people. In my opinion, this moment is important because it shows his awareness of his actions and their consequences.

"I know what I did. I would feel bad if I hurt you, but we both know I didn't do that. You and I were arranged for one reason; to birth a precautionary heir to the Goetia family, nothing more. I tried so many years to make it comfortable for us; to have this family, but it was never enough. The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty was for that girl to have a normal life. ...I cannot do this anymore. I want you out. Now."

Stolas, who is currently somewhat committed to Blitz—but likely won’t become official until at least sometime in Season 3—I don’t believe would cheat on him. I think Stolas has loved Blitz for a very long time, since he was a child, and I feel he wouldn’t risk damaging their relationship after everything they’ve been through: months of pining, strained tension, and emotional hurt on both sides. What strengthens this belief for me is the moment in "Sinmas" where, while off his meds and clearly an emotional wreck, Stolas felt guilty about a client whose relationship mirrored his own with Stella. The client's request for I.M.P to kill her husband for cheating clearly struck a nerve, and I think it shows how deeply Stolas values the concept of loyalty when he truly cares for someone

I’ve seen people suggest that Stolas might end up with the “Better Than Blitzo” succubus—who, by the way, he just made out with, but that doesn’t mean he has feelings for him—or even Vassago, but I honestly don’t see that happening either. To me, Stolas’s arc is clearly building toward an official relationship with Blitz, who has been his childhood crush. Changing that pairing now would feel rushed and, in my opinion, like poor writing, unless it occurred during another “break-up” period, which I think is unlikely. (Honestly, I see Vassago as more of Stolas’s gay best friend than a romantic option.)

If Stolas and Blitz were to mutually agree to an open relationship—potentially including someone like Vassago—that would be a completely different situation. However, I personally see Stolas as someone who gives off very monogamous energy. (Of course, I could be wrong, and Viv might eventually confirm otherwise, but for now, I interpret Stolas as someone who deeply values a one-on-one connection.)

The transactional relationship:

I used to believe that Stolas was deliberately withholding Blitz’s business by keeping the grimoire over his head, and honestly, I think a lot of people saw it that way too—especially during season one when we had little context about his character or intentions. At the time, I agreed with that perspective because it seemed logical without knowing much else. However, as the show has progressed over nearly three seasons, I’ve come to realize that it’s more complex than that. I don’t think Stolas was intentionally using the grimoire to control Blitz’s business; instead, I see it as him being desperate for an emotional connection with someone outside of his toxic marriage. He wanted something deeper from Blitz, something Blitz couldn’t emotionally provide at that time, though Blitz was willing to engage with him sexually.

I also feel sad when people reduce their relationship to things like “Stockholm syndrome” or “prostitution in a sexual form.” In my view, that’s not an accurate way to interpret their dynamic. For me, it’s now clear that Stolas was seeking emotional fulfillment, while Blitz was more focused on his career and had no interest in emotional vulnerability back then. Their motivations were entirely different, but neither one was exploiting the other in the way those terms imply.

As for the idea that either Blitz or Stolas SA’d the other, I don’t see how that holds up. Yes, Blitz used his charm and flirtation as a tactic to steal the grimoire, but here’s the thing: Stolas didn’t reject him. He was clearly flustered and awkward, but his attraction to Blitz was obvious, and he consented to their interaction. He could have said no at any point, but he didn’t—because he wanted it, too.

I also don’t believe either of them could have forced the other into something they didn’t want. Both of them are fighters in their own way. Blitz is physically capable, with his assassin training, and Stolas is a Goetia with powerful magic—not to mention his ability to throw a punch when necessary. If either one of them felt genuinely threatened, I doubt they would have gone through with it.

To me, everything about their arrangement appears entirely consensual. I see how both had something to gain from it—Blitz gained access to the grimoire for his business, while Stolas received the sexual intimacy he desired. Their relationship has always felt layered and complicated, but I’m confident it wasn’t coercive or predatory in nature.

Bonus:

“Bad dad” Stolas:

I believe Stolas did struggle as a parent back in Season 1, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the context of his situation. In many ways, he was essentially a “single parent” during his marriage to Stella, who showed little to no interest in actively raising Octavia. To me, this is highlighted by young Octavia only drawing pictures of herself and Stolas—a small but telling detail that reflects the negative and distant relationship she had with her mother. I feel this dynamic explains a lot about Octavia’s preference for her father’s presence and support, as well as the much closer bond they shared.

In my view, Stolas has come a long way since then—nearly three seasons ago. By the time Season 3 arrives, I think it will be evident just how much he’s grown, both as a person and as a father. While I recognize that he still makes mistakes with Octavia, I believe his determination to be a better parent is undeniable. For instance, in Seeing Stars, I was struck by how he practically broke down the door at I.M.P after learning Octavia was missing. Even with the tension between him and Blitz after Ozzie’s, his focus wasn’t on their strained relationship or the grimoire being lost—it was entirely on Octavia. To me, that moment showed how deeply Stolas cares about his daughter’s safety, even in the midst of personal turmoil.

I feel Stolas’s primary focus in that episode was entirely on finding Octavia, not on romanticizing his relationship with Blitz. The only moment that deviated from this was a brief instance of vulnerability due to his stage fright, where Blitz stepped in to help. To me, this wasn’t a calculated move to create romantic tension; it felt like a genuine moment of support. Blitz, on the other hand, seemed captivated by Stolas’s human form, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “simping.” For me, this dynamic reflects how much their interactions have shifted since Season 1, where Stolas often made overt advances toward Blitz, who seemed uninterested and more focused on his business. I think this evolution in their relationship is subtle but worth acknowledging.

Mastermind further reinforced, in my opinion, just how much Stolas cares about Octavia. The very first thing he says is, “What about my daughter?” To me, that response speaks volumes. For someone so often criticized as a “bad dad” or accused of not caring about Octavia, his immediate concern for her in a moment of crisis makes his priorities clear. I also think Stolas understands how far Stella will go to turn Octavia against him. In Seeing Stars, Stella outright says, “You’re turning her against me,” which, to me, highlights her bitterness and manipulative tendencies. I believe Stella has already proven she’s willing to emotionally harm and isolate her daughter to serve her selfish agenda, which makes Stolas’s efforts to connect with Octavia even more admirable.

At the end of the day, I see Stolas as a flawed but evolving character. He makes mistakes, but I believe he’s actively working to be better—not just for himself, but for Octavia as well. To me, his growth shows that effort and intention matter, even if change takes time. I appreciate how the show offers a nuanced look at the complexities of his relationships, reminding me that nobody is perfect, but the willingness to grow and try again is what counts most.

“Stolas always 'choosing' Blitz over Octavia” Debate:

Blitz:

In the episode “Loo Loo Land” Stolas proposed a daddy-daughter outing, not realizing that Octavia had outgrown of the theme park. He also invited Blitz along, likely wanting two of his favorite people to be in the same space. I believe Stolas may have subconsciously hoped they might bond, even though it wasn’t the most appropriate setting for them to interact. Blitz, while maintaining his usual sarcastic and brash demeanor, did take his role as Stolas’s bodyguard seriously, stepping up to protect them when chaos erupted.

When Octavia ran off, Stolas immediately followed to ensure she was okay, prioritising her feelings and demonstrating how deeply he cares for her. I don’t interpret this as Stolas “choosing” Blitz over his daughter. While he may have initially seemed to prioritize Blitz’s company—seeking the emotional connection he was clearly missing—his actions ultimately reinforced his unwavering dedication to Octavia. For me, this episode highlights Stolas’s love for his daughter, even amid the distraction of Blitz’s presence.

Stolas’s decision in “Mastermind” to intervene and take Blitz’s place felt like a defining moment for his character. I believe he could have stayed silent and allowed Blitz’s sentence to unfold, but to me, that would have been morally indefensible. Blitz didn’t deserve such a cruel fate, no matter how strained their relationship had been since Ozzie’s. In my view, allowing Blitz to suffer would have gone completely against the principles Stolas embodies—love, loyalty, and a willingness to protect those he cares about.

I feel like Blitz’s reaction to Stolas’s sacrifice speaks volumes. Blitz would have literally died if Stolas hadn’t stepped in, and when Blitz broke down crying, I saw so much more than guilt or sorrow. To me, it was raw, unfiltered emotion—a gut-wrenching realization of just how close he came to losing everything. I think dismissing that scene as anything less than pivotal would undermine the depth of Blitz’s emotions and the gravity of the situation they both faced.

In my opinion, Mastermind cut through all of Blitz’s snark, emotional walls, and self-destructive tendencies, exposing his true feelings. The moment was raw and terrifying, a rare glimpse into how much Stolas truly means to him—even if Blitz struggles to express it. I believe Blitz wasn’t just mourning what could’ve happened; he was shaken to his very core by how close he came to losing someone who genuinely loves him. To me, Stolas didn’t just save Blitz’s life physically—he made a profound statement that Blitz was worth saving. For someone like Blitz, who has battled self-worth issues for years, that act carried an extraordinary emotional weight.

What stood out to me wasn’t just the act itself, but the instinct behind it. Stolas’s willingness to endure that torment—to take Blitz’s place without hesitation—wasn’t a calculated romantic gesture. It felt pure and instinctual, driven by the simple fact that Blitz’s safety mattered more to him in that moment than his own. To me, this selfless act shattered Blitz’s defences in a way nothing else could. It forced him to confront the reality that someone valued him unconditionally, enough to sacrifice without expecting anything in return. I feel that kind of love and selflessness directly challenges Blitz’s belief that he’s undeserving of love, making this moment one of the most emotionally profound in their entire relationship.

In “Sinmas,” I can understand how it might seem like Stolas ‘chose’ Blitz, especially when viewed out of context. I can see how some might jump to the conclusion that Stolas ‘fell out of love’ with Blitz simply because he didn’t hug him back. However, I don’t believe that’s the case. When Stolas told Blitz, “Go enjoy yourself, Blitz. You don’t have to stay here with me,” I feel he was actually giving Blitz an out, not rejecting him outright. If Stolas truly didn’t have feelings for Blitz, he wouldn’t have:

1. Stolas accepted the dance with Blitz

2. Reciprocated Blitz’s mild flirting about their height difference.

3. Laughed —which is a positive sign— so warmly, with an undertone of love and affection.

4. The lyrics of the song highlight their relationship as they danced

You pack a bag, you say goodbye

You kiss me on the cheek and look me in the eye

You tell a lie that you will soon return to me

I loved you then, I love you still

And now, it won’t be long until you’re here at last

And then I ask if your heart still burns for me.

To me, these moments show that Stolas does still love Blitz. He wasn’t rejecting him but was instead emotionally exhausted after everything he’d been through—particularly the estrangement from Octavia and the strain in their father-daughter relationship. That emotional weight affected how he expressed his feelings in the moment.

The second thing I notice is that people often assume this moment signals a “role reversal” for Season 3 because Stolas keeps pulling away from Blitz whenever one of them reaches out. However, I see it differently. I think his behavior stems from the alienation he feels from his daughter and the unresolved tension between him and Blitz. Just because they kissed and are somewhat together doesn’t mean everything that happened from Ozzie’s onward has been forgotten. As someone who has experienced heartbreak—especially when someone has broken my heart multiple times—I understand how natural it is to pull away. There’s always that lingering uncertainty, that fear of being hurt again if I let myself move forward, and I see that reflected in Stolas’s hesitation.

(Pretty sure it’s not — because imps are actually fire resistant but it could have been automatic reaction so Blitz wasn’t burned by the embers of the cigarette which is a very stark contrast parallel to “Moon Harvest Festival” episode— or Stolas pulled away because he didn’t feel like sharing his cigarette 😂)

Octavia:

I completely understand why someone might empathise with Octavia’s feelings of “abandonment” and frustration, but I think it’s also important to consider Stolas’s perspective. When Octavia confronts him about “choosing” Blitz over her, I see the emotional weight of her words as reflective of her experience, even though I don’t think it fully captures the reality of the situation.

In my opinion, Stolas’s involvement with Blitz is often misinterpreted as selfishness. I see it as a response to deeper personal struggles, which I feel people sometimes confuse with “abandonment” or a “lack of care for Octavia”. From my perspective, Stolas trapped in a loveless marriage and burdened by duty, finds in Blitz his first genuine connection and sense of freedom in years. To me, this doesn’t erase Stolas’s mistakes as a father, but it does provide context. His actions aren’t about not loving Octavia—they’re about seeking emotional fulfilment (which was also one sided at that point) in a life where he’s felt stifled for so long.

The tragedy, as I see it, is that Stolas’s search for connection unintentionally creates distance between him and his daughter, even though she’s always a priority in his heart. For me, this complexity adds depth to their relationship, showing that love and struggle can coexist in ways that are difficult to navigate.

In my view, Stolas’s growth is undeniable. As Season 2 progresses, I’ve noticed how his priorities are shifting, and his love for Octavia shines through in his actions. To me, this isn’t a narrative about “abandonment”—it’s about him learning to balance his own happiness with being a present father.

I’ll admit that Season 1 Stolas was caught up in his personal struggles, but I don’t think the claim that “he never prioritized Octavia” holds up anymore. From my perspective, Season 2 Stolas is making an effort, and I believe that matters much more than anything else.

What stands out most to me is that Stolas directly acknowledges his mistakes. He doesn’t dismiss Octavia’s feelings or try to invalidate them—he listens, apologizes, and actively works to reconnect with her. To me, his self-awareness and genuine efforts to grow give him real depth as a character. I don’t see him as selfish or neglectful—not in an irredeemable way, at least. (Unlike Stella, who, in my opinion, represents a whole different level of bad parenting.)

I think it’s important to recognize that Stolas’s love isn’t limited to Octavia. His actions and body language clearly show that his love for Blitz (romantically) and Octavia (familially) manifests in different ways, but both are equally deep and sincere. To me, this duality speaks volumes about the complexity of his character and the depth of his emotions.

I also feel that Stolas’s familial love could naturally extend to others, like Loona, even though their relationship hasn’t fully developed yet. In my opinion, while they’ve only interacted briefly as coworkers for a single day, there’s potential for him to form meaningful bonds possibly explored in season 3.

On another note: I don’t believe there are any “sides” here from a viewer’s perspective. In my way of thinking, the only one who perceives “sides” is Octavia, and I feel that’s because she’s the one directly affected by the miscommunication between her and her dad. Her pain, as I see it, understandably skews her perception of the situation. While Stolas did explicitly say, “it was all my choice” in reference to the events leading up to his banishment and estrangement from his daughter, I don’t believe this means he is actively “choosing” one over the other. To me, this dynamic is deeply complicated and serves to highlight the depth and intricacy of all the relationships involved.

“I love you, Via. So, so much. Please, sweetie, let me explain.”

I believe Stolas’s feelings for Blitz doesn’t diminish his love for Octavia. In my view, the idea that he’s “choosing” one over the other overlooks the core of who he is. I feel Octavia’s pain is absolutely valid, but I think it stems more from miscommunication and — unintentional— emotional distance than from any genuine abandonment on Stolas’s part.

(That being said, I can’t ignore how things escalated when Octavia disowned him completely. To me, this underscores just how deeply their miscommunication has impacted their relationship, with hurt feelings compounding on both sides)

“No! No, never Via! *grabs Octavia's hands* Sweetie, please. You have always been the ONLY good thing in my life!”

I feel that despite Stolas’s efforts to explain and reconnect, Octavia’s pain drives her to push him away, refusing to hear his side. From my perspective, it’s a heartbreaking moment that reveals just how deeply she’s been hurt. I believe Stolas’s love for her never wavers, but I also think that love alone isn’t always enough to instantly mend such profound fractures in their relationship.

“Via, no! I didn't I just- I had to. You don't understand.”

I think Octavia’s perception of the situation is a crucial part of the story. I notice that much of the narrative is shown through her perspective—how she feels about her father’s actions and the relationships around her. From what I see, all she seems to know is that her father cheated on her mother. She doesn’t understand the “why” behind his actions, or if she does, it feels like she has only a limited understanding of it. I get the impression that she’s unaware of the extent of her parents’ toxic relationship or the events that led up to his affair.

What Octavia does see, loud and clear, is Stolas’s feelings for Blitz. To her, it seems like he’s constantly “choosing” Blitz over her, and I think this is heartbreakingly evident in her emotional outbursts—“Are you going to run away with him?” and “You never loved Mama, you never loved me, you love him!” To me, these words reflect a raw, painful place for her to be, and I feel her emotions in these moments are entirely valid. The weight of her pain is something I don’t think anyone should dismiss or minimize.

From my perspective as part of the audience, though, I see the full picture. Stolas’s choices—while imperfect—aren’t as simple as “abandoning Octavia for Blitz”. The tragedy, as I see it, lies in the disconnect between what Stolas knows and what Octavia believes. Even after the events of “Sinmas,” Octavia still views her father’s actions as him ‘leaving her for Blitz’, despite the reality that Stolas was exiled and had no choice but to live with him. I feel this misunderstanding continues to shape how she sees both her father and his relationship with Blitz. To me, this heartbreaking disconnect only deepens the complexity of their dynamic, making it all the more layered and compelling.

Stella "is" a good person:

I think it’s important to consider Stella’s role in all of this. From my perspective, it’s entirely plausible that she has been feeding Octavia lies about Stolas, twisting events to frame him as the villain. This belief is reinforced by the moment when Octavia says to Stolas, “Was I some sort of obligation?” after discovering his pills. While I understand that she has two well-spoken and formal parents, that particular phrasing feels unusually formal for a 17-year-old who is supposed to ‘live a normal life’. She could have just said something like, “Was I some kind of chore?” which would feel more natural and age-appropriate.

The use of the word “obligation” feels especially suspect—it’s a term that seems more aligned with Stella’s manipulative rhetoric. Considering what we’ve seen of Stella’s behavior, this kind of psychological manipulation fits her character perfectly and mirrors patterns commonly observed in other abusers. I can’t help but feel she’s intentionally weaponizing Octavia as a pawn in her vendetta against Stolas. By driving a wedge between father and daughter, she gains a powerful advantage, particularly as their estranged relationship could serve her interests in the long run.

Stella’s behavior toward Octavia unsettles me even more when I consider how it escalates during Mastermind. When Octavia believes her father is dead—or at least permanently gone—I can see how Stella uses that as an opportunity to deepen her control over her daughter. Without Stolas in the palace, I feel like Stella has fewer barriers to exploit Octavia emotionally and manipulate her further. While I noticed this subtly in “Mastermind”, it feels far more overt by the time “Sinmas” unfolds. When Stella sneers, ‘He thinks he’s going to talk to HIS daughter,’ it strikes me as a deeply revealing moment. I interpret her words as an indication that Stella doesn’t even view Octavia as her child but rather as some kind of obligation or tool to wield against Stolas. That mindset, to me, underscores just how much her abuse shapes the dynamic between father and daughter.

When I reflect on the dynamic between Stella and Octavia, I see how it remained ambiguous early on, but Season 2 has made it clear their relationship is not only strained but also quietly abusive. I believe Stella would never want Stolas to realise the extent of her mistreatment of Octavia, knowing he would immediately take his daughter’s side. To me, that knowledge likely drives Stella’s manipulative tactics even further.

From my perspective, Stella has consistently demonstrated that she prioritizes herself above all else, showing little to no regard for her daughter’s well-being. I noticed this early on in “Seeing Stars”, when Young Octavia called out for her mother and was met with child neglect straight up. I can’t help but feel that Stella’s hatred for Stolas has deeply influenced Octavia’s perception of him. It seems to me that by blaming Stolas for the family’s problems, Stella is not only deflecting responsibility but also reshaping the narrative to fit her own self-serving agenda.

I think it’s important to call this what it is—emotional manipulation, not to mention neglect, which I view as a form of abuse. While I notice some parallels between Stella and Stolas’s flaws, I believe she lacks any of his redeeming qualities. In my opinion, Stella’s mistreatment of Octavia feels deliberate, rooted in her bitterness toward Stolas. Since Octavia takes after her father in both appearance and personality, I imagine that resemblance serves as a painful reminder of Stolas’s presence, fueling Stella’s resentment and influencing how she interacts with her daughter.

Thinking about all of this, I find myself reflecting on an observation someone made about the stark differences in the way Octavia hugs her parents:

1. Notice the way Octavia hugged her Dad in “Seeing Stars” versus her mother?

Octavia’s arms go around Stolas WITHOUT hesitation!

Girl did NOT want to be hugged by her mother— Octavia even backs away from Stella and her arms are stiff by her sides compared to the first picture above.

I see Octavia’s relationships with her parents as deeply reflective of how she perceives trust and safety. When I think about the moment Octavia hugs Stella, I notice a sense of wariness—maybe even fear. I can’t blame her for that. After all, she’s witnessed domestic abuse firsthand, watching Stella throw things at Stolas. Even if she wasn’t directly involved, I imagine that would leave lasting scars.

This realization made me rethink Stella’s behavior. To me, her manipulation isn’t subtle—it’s emotional abuse disguised as affection. That makes me see how fragile and unhealthy Octavia’s trust in her mother really is. From my perspective, Octavia doesn’t turn to Stella for love or comfort but because fear and manipulation have warped her idea of security.

I feel like Octavia’s continued pursuit of Stella’s approval, despite recognizing her toxicity on some level, speaks volumes about the family dynamics at play. To me, it’s not about Octavia choosing Stella over Stolas—it’s about how manipulation can distort someone’s sense of safety, even when the truth is painfully clear.

When I think about Octavia’s relationship with Stolas, I feel there’s a stark contrast to how she interacts with Stella. Their bond, as I see it, was built on trust and love. I never got the sense that Octavia feared Stolas the way she seems to fear Stella. To me, her frustration with Stolas feels rooted in hurt rather than fear—hurt stemming from the fear of being abandoned, not of being harmed, not that he would either. I believe her anger and disappointment are born out of unmet expectations and emotional distance rather than anything abusive. That’s why their falling out feels so heartbreaking to me.

In “Sinmas” I can’t help but think about how Octavia went out of her way to protect her dad, despite moments of pain and miscommunication. That’s why I believe if Stella had ever turned on Octavia in the past, Stolas would have directed all of his attention on defending her, just as Octavia instinctively protected him from her uncle when he tried to hurt Stolas. To me, this shows the depth of their bond, even in its most fractured state.

I believe their relationship wasn’t broken by cruelty or violence but strained by miscommunication and a growing emotional gap. To me, this distinction is vital. It shows how much Octavia’s pain revolves around the love she still has for Stolas, even as she feels let down by him.

In the end, while I recognize Stolas’s actions weren’t perfect, I see Stella’s calculated cruelty as playing a far greater role in fracturing their family. Her manipulation left deep emotional scars, and her ongoing efforts to harm and control others stand in stark contrast to Stolas’s flawed but sincere attempts to connect with his daughter. For me, that contrast underscores how different their intentions truly are.

Acceptance vs “Giving Up”:

I see a significant difference between accepting someone and giving up on them, and I want to make that clear. I don’t believe Stolas is giving up on Octavia—If she ever decided to hear his side of the story, I imagine he wouldn’t hesitate to tell it. I think he’d welcome her back into his life with open arms, without question, if she asked for forgiveness. But I also understand that there’s only so much he can do. From my perspective, Stolas is respecting her decision, even if it’s painful for him because that’s what a good parent does— if he continues to force himself to explain the reasons why, the more Octavia is going to pull away further and further away from him until she wants nothing to do with him indefinitely , not just until his sentence is up and I believe he understands that

I also recognise that Stolas has already done everything he can to reach out to Octavia. I see how he’s gone through the stages of grief—bargaining included—when he begged her to hear him out, to let him explain, and she refused. I feel like his current acceptance of the situation doesn’t mean he’s “abandoning her”. Instead, I think it shows that he’s choosing to heal and adapt to the new reality forced upon him.

When I look at how he’s moving forward, I don’t see it as Stolas “choosing” Blitz over his daughter. I believe it’s about him choosing to live, to focus on the relationships and goals still within his reach. I think he’s trying to find meaning and strength after such a significant loss, which would potentially include exploring his romantic connection with Blitz. In my view, this isn’t about “replacing Octavia” but about survival.

I also notice that, whether or not Octavia is in Stolas’s life, she’ll likely continue to struggle with the idea of Blitz being part of it. From what I’ve seen, Blitz already values Octavia, even with their limited interactions. I believe he sees her as family in his own way. I think it will take time for that dynamic to evolve, but I can see how much Blitz would care for her as a potential stepdaughter if given the chance.

Millie being pregnant debate:

From what I understand, Millie’s uncertainty about whether she should keep the baby is a complex situation, and I’ve noticed that many people immediately jump to the conclusion that the baby might not be Moxxie’s, accusing her of “cheating” on her husband. Personally, I don’t think that’s the case. I believe there are other possibilities worth considering:

1. I noticed that Millie’s insistence on carrying out the hit, even pressuring Blitz to go through with it, suggests to me that she’s in desperate need of the extra money. What stood out to me was how she challenged his authority when he called off the hit—despite his personal reasons—and how he actually used his “boss” voice with her, which I’ve never seen him do before. Their relationship has always felt more buddy-buddy, so his firm stance with her really caught my attention.

I also believe Blitz’s resoluteness in that moment reflects something deeper. While he—presumably— comes from Greed (based on what we’ve seen from his childhood), I don’t think he wants to embody that particular sin. Instead, I feel he chose to focus on Pride, Lust, or even Envy as defining sins, rather than allowing Greed to guide his actions.

I believe some people will likely question Millie and Blitz’s relationship because of this situation, and while I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, I’m sure others might wonder if this means they’re no longer friends or if their dynamic will change in season 3

But when I really think about it, their closeness doesn’t change the fact that Millie overstepped a mark from an employee perspective. Blitz is the one who ultimately calls the shots, and if he decides to call off the hit, that decision is final. It’s his authority that matters in this context regardless of their personal relationship.

2. If she’s considering keeping the baby, I think she’d need to be “benched” from work, even as early as four weeks into the pregnancy. This makes me wonder if her absence from the upcoming shorts could hint at her decision—if she’s not in them, it might mean she’s told everyone, but if she is, she’s likely keeping it a secret.

3. I know Millie is the youngest of her siblings, except for Sallie May, and she comes from a big family. To me, it’s possible that she might not want kids herself, especially if she grew up in such a chaotic household.

4. I think the episode could focus on the idea that it’s okay to choose abortion and to be happy enough with your spouse, even without children—at least for the time being.

5. She might also feel unsure about becoming a parent. From what I’ve seen, Moxxie is likely apprehensive about the idea too, especially given his fears of becoming like his abusive father. Maybe they even agreed on “no kids” when they got together.

6. Another possibility I’ve considered is that Millie might have had a child before meeting Moxxie and is now finding herself unexpectedly pregnant again.

To me, this whole situation feels layered, and I’m looking forward to seeing how it all plays out.

[derpydoteddrake]

Viktor is under some kind of influence, but at first glance it's hard to tell the exact nature of it.

But I believe its more simple than one would think.

The core is basically jingling keys in front of him and telling him to look at them.

But I believe its more simple than one would think.

The core is basically jingling keys in front of him and telling him to look at them.

Firstly, why is the sky hallucination sus? could it just be his own mind?

Her guiding him to her book and later showing up next to the shimmer addict could be explained as just his conscious.

However, he also woke up to her screams and it was her voice that guided him to the addicts, both things go beyond what could manifest only from his own perception of things.

Not only that, this is the exact place where he later cocoons himself again. So it's no accident he ended up here.

It's also good to note how Viktors saw her differently then how she was, he sees him as a more idolised version of herself, which is als a good indication that she is not real.

But then in act 2 she appeals completely harmless, she doesn't push him into anything, and it looks like she offers some sense of emotional support.

And that's the point, it's feeding into viktors weaknesses as a person, all it needs to do, is give him the illusion of company, and keep him in his head.

Viktor was always a loner, but he also seeked out second opinions and he was in fact very lonely and wished for company.

This is exactly what the core is giving him the illusion of. A second opinion and company.

By herself “sky” does not offer any new information to viktor, she is either stathing things he is already aware of, things viktor thinks she would say, or reassures him.

“She liked me, she would be concerned about me!”

“I remember telling her that once!”

“She was caring, she would be upset at someone's death!”

In fact, it might even try to distract him from the important things, we don't see a lot of it, but the moment Viktor starts to wonder what's up with Jayce, she attempts to move his thoughts elsewhere from thinking about what is wrong with him.

Viktors perception of the world is fundamentally changed, this is already pretty isolating but now he has a mind buddy! He's Not alone anymore, there's someone who talks to him, who cares about him, who he can share ideas with,

someone who loves him.

I'm going to concede, I do think their relationship has a romantic undertone, if for nothing else it's because viktors perception of sky is pretty heavily defined by her love letters to him.

Regardless of your reading (how much do you think he reciprocates that), it is giving him the company he wished for.

Why is that bad?

It's because it keeps him docile, and so far up his own 4ss that he doesn't realise how messed up what he is actually doing is. He is stuck with his own regurgitated thoughts.

The only thing he ever gets is reassurance that what he is doing is in fact good, he doesn't have an outside perspective on what's happening with him or around him.

He doesn't have the head space to self reflect cuz something always chimes in, always keeps him thinking, solving problems, solving puzzles.

We never once saw him actively trying to talk to any of his followers, the only people who he does are not affected by him, and come to him directly, he didn't even bother seeking out Jayce himself.

The only way he communicates with them is when he wants to do his creepy puppet thing and if the only thing left in his followers head is gratitude towards him and he never examines what it did to them as people, no wonder he doesn't notice a thing.

He just unquestionably spreads the core's influence.

No wonder the first awful idea anyone gave him in who knows how long that isn't his own stuck with him.

He always had a tendency to get sucked into his work and dont bother with people (ironically that is one of the reasons sky got dusted) and don't bother with anything else, and now the conditions are orchestrated for this to basically keep him in his own head.

He doesn't really care about his followers either, he watched one of them get smashed and didn't give a damn.

He doesn't care for them as people, they are more akin to problems he can solve and move on. He was barely even bothered about Jayce's condition, probably assuming he will come to him and he can fix him right away.

We can see this in his visions of how he conceptualizes himself, he looks very human, and yet he got these unsettling yellow eyes. He is blind to the ways he changed, just look at how he acts in them.

At first glance he appears a lot more emotive and it also tells us that he is fairly enjoying himself and his new perception of the world but also the main thing we see of him is his endless curiosity about things, not his empathy towards them.

He is well meaning of course, but he doesn't/cant reflect enough to see what he is really doing. Namely taking away the things he saw in these people, their dreams.

And he constantly has problems to solve, we saw how many people went to him, he always has something to think about, and he always has someone to talk to about it without needing to waste precious time on seeking out a second opinion.

In s1 he barely reacted to the beginning of a civil war going around him, now people depend on him and in the middle of a civil war he doesn't have any way of protecting these people.

He barely gives a damn about him slowly deteriorating. He doesn't live in reality anymore. He cannot see the forest for the trees. (though he might have had some plans we don't know of, since Salo was gathering materials for him.)

And his guilt just amplifies this.

From s1 one of his strongest traits was how much he believed if he gets the right tools, and the opportunity, he can help people.

“Do you think my life ambition is to be an assistant?”

“If you are going to change the world don't ask for permission.”

“All I did was believe in myself.”

This is what skys death puts into question.

This is why he almost jumped afterwards, this fundamental belief in himself was put into question. He got the chance to do what he wanted and someone died.

This is where his guilt comes into play, he isn't making his own dream a reality, we saw that what he really wanted is to give people tools that they can use to create, but that's not what he is doing.

He is doing what he believes Skye's dream was.

It doesn't even look like he invents things anymore, he just mostly uses his powers and studies botanics. (tho we saw Salo steal some stuff for him so he might have some plans that we don't know yet?)

This is even the context he brought her up to jayce: she had such dreams.

From her notes we can assume she hoped to help make a zaun that is cleaner and more connected to nature.

This is the reason why he is so receptive to skyes positive affirmation, its because in his head he is correcting his wrong, her affirmation and forgiveness gave him back the belief that he can still do good.

Now he has the right tools and the opportunity to do it, so he won't fail again.

He is literally wearing her symbol on his clothes.

He is doing this out of some kind of repentance for his sins.

So the way he sees it: he is helping these people, who on they own free will just happen to stay here cuz its nice and he conveniently can puppet them if needed, he doesn't question that cuz he never bothers to talk to them and skys happy and she talks to him so why bother when no one sees the world like he does.

What he doesn't realise is that he is pretty much meant to die there.

There's a reason why his palace was builded here, he literally got told to build it there. It was there so he could die and cocoon himself again.

When he first saw jayce and encountered the singularity, he was literally describing himself.

“self annihilating and replicating” That's him, this entity is connected to him, he is meant to die and be reborn over and over again. He might not completely embody it yet, but he is a product of it. (and he will probably gonna try to harness it, that's what the beginning of ep 6 set up.)

I don't think he expected jayce to shoot him, when he saw what he was going to do he looked pretty shocked, but he was intentionally kept docile by the core basically guaranteeing that even actually he will die out.

And then he had the audacity to conclude it must have happened cuz people just suck.

He tried nothing to prevent this and he is already out of options.

To his defense he was probably really lost in the sauce at this point.

This is also why he was making his following, he was supposed to draw power from them after he dies so he can be reborn again.

This also means that singed and ambessa are probably interfering with this process.

It would explain why he looks so wrong in the poster.

In conclusion, the core keeps Viktor in a mind state where he is docile enough not to question what's happening around him using his already existing flaws against him in order to spread itself.

One last thing I would like to add is that I don't think this will be his final transformation, I believe the final one will either happen at the top of the hex gate or at the bottom of it.

[ozzgin]

Ok, could I just say I LOVE how you write for your Baki characters, they're always a treat 🥺✨️

May I request another prehistoric reader, but when they revived her along with Pickle, she just looked so roughed up that she looks like the definition of surviving

What could cause such scars? Well they wouldn't have to wait long since turns out she's like really clumsy, like "nearly losing an eye by tripping on air and onto a metal pole" clumsy

Pickle just has to be by her side every time to catch her before she actually lose something

I love the idea! I can definitely picture it, thank you for the suggestion and the kind words!

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Clumsy Reader

Featuring Pickle and his challengers and one tough looking reader that turns out to be just extremely clumsy.

The men scan your features with a cautious defensiveness. Here you are, standing tall next to Pickle, with a similarly toned body yet peppered with scars and old wounds. Assuming you have the same survival skills as Pickle, what could you have possibly fought to leave you with such extensive damage? The air is tense as they analyze the possibilities. A T.Rex? It was your main source of food. Multiple of them? Entire packs of ancient elite predators? Were you the main hunter of the pack, taking on challenges that left the other humans scurrying away in fear?

It doesn’t take too long for the mystery to solve itself. The first one to pick up on it is Baki, who just happened to be visiting the enclosure. You’re in the middle of a playful scuffle with Pickle when you decide to impress the newcomer with your signature move. You extend one arm and twist your body slightly, as if gaining traction. Pickle can immediately tell what is about to happen and growls at you, but it’s too late. You swing, and the fist lands in your own face. Baki gasps in shock and you blink a few times in order to process the succession of events. Good Lord, you’re just clumsy. Terribly so.

Now, they have to admit, being this dangerous to yourself and making it this far is rather impressive. Whether in a good or a bad way is another story. The major force of reason in your life seems to be Pickle. Whenever possible, he’s there to stop your ungainly displays. He’s lifted you from the ground more times than he could ever care to count. Truth be told, he does enjoy the fact that you’re this dependent on him. Outside of your clumsiness you’re quite capable and he likes to have one area where he can prove himself as a partner to you.

It’s almost like you and Pickle crawled out of a slapstick comedy. The men are nearly temped to fabricate their own scenarios to check whether you come out unscathed. They’d rather not upset Pickle more than necessary, however. And witnessing your lack of coordination first-hand has also awakened a similar worry towards your safety.

Before they know it, they’re stopping mid-conversation to check on whatever shenanigans you’re up to, ready to interfere. Retsu will silently interrupt your failure and pretend nothing has ever happened, sparing your embarrassment. So does Katsumi, after having a good laugh about it. He finds you extremely entertaining and always compliments your gift of getting into trouble.

Jack doesn’t like to make his empathy known. He’ll ‘accidentally’ step in front of you moments before you’re about to crash into a wall. He just so happens to hold the edge of the barrier right before your head collides with it. Move along, there’s nothing to see.

With Baki there's always a 50% chance he'll fail miserably together with you instead. He's about to stop you from tripping and in doing so his chin hits the pavement at the same time as you. Thankfully Pickle has two hands.

Even Yuujirou is forced to comply with the unspoken rule. He’s been told repeatedly of the importance you and Pickle hold from a cultural and scientifically perspective and he doesn’t disagree with it. Depending on his mood he will laugh at your misfortune or arrogantly scold you, but either way he will prevent your injury. He’s also secretly impressed by your durability.

[cha-melodius]

sara hug prompts is wonderful!! so here goes 💚💚

southern philanthropy maybe? (or firstprince if that vibes for ya better) for:

15. The hug where they’re standing between your legs while you’re sitting on an elevated platform of sorts, their front pressed against yours, their arms around your waist; face buried on your neck.

(Ok, I did do Southern Philanthropy for the hug part, though it's from an outsider perspective and, er, less about them than you might have expected. 😅 I hope you enjoy anyway! hug ficlet prompts; read all the hug ficlets)

15. The hug where they’re standing between your legs while you’re sitting on an elevated platform

It had been a rough game. Too many mistakes on their part, too many dirty plays by the other team that went uncalled by the refs, too many moments where they just weren’t clicking. It happens, they’ll move on, but the mood as they file into the locker room afterward is decidedly sombre.

Then there’s Liam, just visible through the open door to the training room, sitting on an exam table with his head bent dejectedly toward the floor. He’d taken a bad fall late in the game and hadn’t returned before the end, even to the bench. Now, there’s a massive bundle of ice strapped to his left shoulder. A few of the other guys call out to him and he tells them it’s nothing in an extremely unconvincing tone of voice.

No one ventures into the training room, unwilling to face Zahra’s wrath for intruding on her domain without permission. No one but Pez, who practically sprints through the door the moment he spots Liam sitting there. He inserts himself between Liam’s knees and rests his hands on Liam’s hips, staring up into Liam’s eyes with worry etched on his face. As Henry watches, they exchange a few words and Liam tugs him into a hug with his good arm, and Pez’s arms wind around his waist as he buries his face in Liam’s neck. They practically melt into each other, tension unspooling from both their bodies.

Henry’s happy for them, truly, happy that they found this in each other, but it makes his heart ache, just a little. He’s even happier that the team environment is such that they don’t have to hide. Not that they’re usually this affectionate with each other when they’re here, but still, everyone knows.

Or, he thought everyone knew.

“Uh,” a familiar voice says as someone takes a seat on the bench beside him. “Is that—”

Henry cocks an eyebrow as he looks over at Alex, who’s staring at Liam and Pez like he’s just seen a ghost. He waits for a conclusion to that question, but it never comes. “Hm?” he prompts eventually.

Alex licks his lips and tears his gaze away from the couple, something frantic in his eyes. If Henry didn’t know better, he’d say Alex was being homophobic, but his sister’s got a girlfriend. Hell, he fought for the team to be allowed to wear Pride gear this year.

“Just— Are they—?” Alex stammers out.

“They are,” Henry answers the fragmented question. Then, because he can’t help it, he adds, “Problem?”

“What? No,” Alex says vehemently, his eyes skittering from Henry to the training room and back again. “It’s just— Liam is gay?”

Oh, Henry thinks, fuck. Does Alex have a crush on him? Is that what this is? Alex calls himself an Ally, loudly, but he also vocally thirsts over hot guys, even more than Henry does. Henry’s never allowed himself to seriously contemplate that Alex might not be straight, for his own mental health. Finding out he might not be because he likes one of their teammates would be fairly devastating.

“Yes, he is,” Henry answers slowly. He frowns. “Did you really not know?”

Alex gulps. “No. He never—” He cuts off with a shake of his head. “Fuck. I— I gotta go. Later, H.”

With that, he takes off like a shot, leaving Henry more than a little confused and wondering if he’ll ever find out what caused that reaction.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

A near-perfect Sunday

When - the evening of Onstage and the following day, which takes place before the S02 episode Secrets. That episode involves the infamous second pharmacy trip and Lori's news coming to light.

Perspective - Daryl POV and You POV

What - Daryl's finally out of that room and is observing the group. He's still limited post-concussion and with his other injuries, but he'll still do what he can for Sophia. As for you, your perspective on your brother shifted so well to the positive that you get brave enough to tell Shane about your idea to leave for Fort Benning with just him.

TWs - I think there's a few cusses? some grieving

Who - this is part of the Slowpoke Series, which is a canon compliant slow burn Reader x Daryl, where Reader is Shane's younger sibling. Carol and Shane are the other characters featured most in this chapter

Pronouns - she/her

Catch up on what you've missed so far with the Masterlist

(Things have been going poorly, I'd love some prayers. Kind feedback is always welcome, too, even on old, crusty chapters XD)

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“Teddy, would you be open to going to the church to do church tomorrow? The one they found on the second bad day?” he heard her ask T-Dog. “I washed my dress so I could re-wear it.” She nodded to where the dress the teenage girl had given her was hanging off the line. “A proper Sunday?”

Obviously, the guy was all in for it, thought it was a great idea, and started asking others near the campfire if they’d come. “Hey Daryl — c’mon brother, you know you gotta come and give thanks with us that you ain’t dead!” T-Dog said to him with a big old smile.

“We’re lightin’ that candle, remember? You survived against all odds, it’s a candle occasion,” Y/N chattered on. “I think it’ll be a near perfect Sunday, so much has happened.”

Except. From what Daryl remembered clearly about that little chapel, the one that’d had that bell sounds on timer, had three geeks put down in it. Hell, he’d been responsible for one of them.

Y/N and T-Dog wouldn’t know, they hadn’t been there. On that day, T-Dog was all fevered up and Y/N had that migraine. She caught up with them late to the search party, but he thought Y/N had mentioned not having gone inside the church even though she wanted to. That’d been the day Carl got shot.

But Daryl didn’t wanna be the one to mention the bodies left in there, not to the two of them.

He noticed Carol looking at them then back to her lap a few times. She caught his gaze. Daryl just looked down and slightly shook his head. ‘Not it.’ No way, he could not be the one to tell Y/N and T-Dog, not them.

Carol was the one to have the balls, in the end. “But are the bodies still in there?” she softly wondered.

“Bodies? No, I-I thought that one was left alone.” Y/N’s eyes turned watery in the firelight. Daryl didn’t like seeing it. “There weren’t even no graffiti or broken glass outside it, n-no soot, or…”

“The people inside had turned,” Carol explained further, still quiet as a mouse.

It was then that Shane strolled over with two spoonfuls of — ew, nasty — peanut butter. “It’s no problem, y’all, they’re out.” He handed one of the spoons to his sister, who took it and checked what he meant.

“Out?”

“Taken out and buried. Scout’s honor. Night y’all.”

Y/N got up and followed him, then hugged him from behind once she was close enough. Her brother turned, kissed the top of her head, and waved off her thanks.

She has a thing about burying the dead, even the turned ones. Counts the one’s she’s put down, too. He pulled his eyes away from her and rubbed the spot on his chest that started to tug.

The details of heading to the chapel were quickly decided by T-Dog, and all the while Y/N stared at nothing in particular with a sleepy, almost dopey sort of smile on her face. She was so caught up that she even forgot to start on her spoonful of peanut butter.

The next morning, Daryl damn near fell asleep on the car ride there. Lori, the boy, Carol, Glenn and him used the fancy new SUV, and they had him ride shotgun on account of his injuries. And yeah, he was nodding off like a milk drunk baby. It was a smooth ride, what can he say?

Jimmy drove the old blue Ford, his ma in the middle, Y/N on the end. Shane and T-Dog rode in the pickup. Riding in the pickup would be more his style, but he couldn’t do none of that yet. They didn’t came across no geeks, neither. Ain’t many around here.

Once the two cars got there and they headed in, the prayer stuff wasn’t annoying or forced or any of that. The place was quiet and clean. There was a lot of crying going on.

Y/N mainly kept her nose in two special prayer books she’d had with her since packing up for Atlanta, and was showing Glenn some stuff in it. After a bit, he noticed that she went to sit by herself, then sought out her big brother and sidled next to him, who kept his head down far in the back. Glenn poked around Y/N’s prayer books more and walked around looking at stuff. He seemed to not know what to do, but then again, neither did Daryl, really.

T-Dog and Patricia didn’t have that problem. They sung together some, prayed together some, and read together with Jimmy. Lori and Carl stayed with Carol, who knelt quietly with a string of prayer beads in front of the candles. And, yes, Daryl made sure to light one.

Two, actually. One was saying thanks he didn’t die, the other was for Sophia. Just in case his reassessment of the situation was wrong and there actually is Someone, right? Ain’t like he hasn’t been wrong before. It was a proper attitude for a Sunday, yeah?

Maybe this was less proper, but Daryl did end up falling asleep in there, right in the church bench he’d tucked himself in.

The ride home involved some switching up of the seating arrangement. Carl asked to ride in the old truck, so his ma road with him. Y/N and Shane swapped to the SUV. Shane drove, Y/N slipped into the backseat with Carol and Glenn. They had Daryl ride shottie again (guess it was some sort of general consensus).

And wouldn’t you know, he fell clear asleep on the car ride back home, too. One minute, he was drowsy and wincing when they went over bumps, and the next, they were at the farm and a car door in the back opened and closed. He woke to his head resting against the window, but on something soft yet coarse, that smelled familiar. It made him want to snuggle his head into it and doze more. It was comforting. A nice kind of shiver went through him.

But, the sound of more car doors meant he had to buck up and open his eyes. He attempted stretching. The makeshift pillow slipped down his side. It took him a sec, but he recognized it after a few blinks.

It was Y/N’s new sweater.

“Highway, Carol?” he next heard her murmur in the back. Daryl just so happened to turn his head enough to see Shane, still in the driver’s seat, lift his chin at what his little sister said. Something about it looked like he thought it was a waste of time. Asshole.

The asshole looked over at him. “You in for the ride? It’ll give you more time to nap.”

That best have been a joke.

Y/N made the quietest little huff at her brother, who dropped the smirk. “If anyone here besides Carol deserves to be there if she’s found, it’s you.” Was he saying that just to appease his kid sister, or? “Just know,” he drawled and gestured to Carol, “the lady gets shotgun if she wants it.”

You know what? In truth, Daryl didn’t mind the ball busting — everyone’s been treating him like a teeny baby. Shane here was treating him more or less like he normal. He let himself smirk back and answered, “I think I’ll nap a little longer.”

Shane seemed to appreciate the joke in return. “Sounds good, man. If the women are all set in back?” he asked with his eye on the rearview mirror.

“I think it’s better if Daryl stays in front, the seat can recline and he needs his rest,” Carol felt the need to say.

…and Daryl would’ve curled his body up like a roly poly from the embarrassment, if his collarbone and ribs would’ve let him.

“Anythin’ you say, my lady.” Shane must’ve heard the groan Daryl tried holding back, because he was that close to cracking up when he announced, “Alright people, let’s roll.” Either that or because Y/N made fun in some kind of yankee accent, “Ooo, ‘my lady.' Such a smooth tawkah.”

Once they were there, Daryl hauled his ass out of the car and pushed himself to walk quickly to the spot, hoping, hoping, hoping, hoping. Carol and Y/N jogged ahead. They slowed. Stopped.

There was no Sophia. Again. No nothing. Nothing written in the car chalk they’d left. No food or drink taken.

Well, about that; starting with the box of cheese crackers, it looked like squirrels or raccoons had themselves a meal. A couple of the boxes had holes nibbled through them, and there were some knocked over containers. He felt some sort of betrayal inside himself. He’d lit a damn candle. He’d hoped that…fuck it, Sunday’s just another day.

Carol didn’t say nothing as she bent down to start picking stuff up. Y/N knelt down with her and helped. Shane looked down at where a few water bottles had fallen, made as if to pick them up, but left them. He climbed onto the nearest van to keep a lookout instead.

Daryl couldn’t do much but shuffle around. He ended up wiping the crumbs off the hood of the car where’d they’d set up the food. Made it look clean for Sophia. The food that was still fine was put back. The ripped-open packages were put in the trunk by Y/N, who said she’d burn the boxes. That girl, still unwilling to litter in a world gone to shit.

It felt worse than falling down that ridge when Carol kept her eyes to the ground as she quietly thanked Shane for driving, then silently went into the backseat again. Y/N’s lip was wobbling when she climbed back in with her. Something about how rodents had gotten to the food instead of a person. It would’ve sucked less if the food was taken.

Daryl was about to join them in the SUV, but he had him an idea. Maybe it was stupid, but this was about Sophia, not him. He stumbled over to the car they’d left the food on, grabbed the car chalk, and shook it up. Once the white goop started coming out, he wrote on the side windows.

BEEN 2 WEEKS WE WON’T STOP

COMING BACK FOR YOU SOPHIA

Good, there was enough room on the bottom for the most important part.

YOUR MA LOVES YOU

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You

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What that man wrote on those windows…

It was really good to see. A blessing. The proper — no — a perfect reminder for a Sunday.

You felt a lot of things, your belly fluttering and chest tugging being two of the sensations. Another was sadness. Pity, too.

You didn’t believe Sophia was alive anymore. Carol didn’t, either. Not anymore.

And for Carol, you couldn’t even stubbornly imagine that the poor girl was still living. Your only hope that when they found her body, that it would be apparent her death was quick, or at least that it happened not long after losing her. God forgive you for reaching that point, but it was reasonable. It was a reasonable hope, right? There’s only so much that one can hold onto without setting oneself up to break.

Yet seeing Daryl just now, finally being able to make it for not even a search, but for a single car ride, two weeks after that sweet child went missing. To see him still hold out some belief that that girl was surviving out there, on her own.

Maybe you could muster one last surge of hope, for his sake? You’ve been wrong about things, like, countless times. So, maybe you were wrong about this. You wanted to be wrong about it. Sophia, the smart girl she was is, could be lying low somewhere secure. Yeah, might could be!

She smiled to herself, believing it with assurance as Shane started the Hyundai up. So, Sophia hadn’t found the food on the highway, big whoop. Maybe tomorrow!

And yet, the very next moment, the inner, private prayer you’d been repeating for days on end starting up again without you thinking twice.

Please let it have been quick. Carol needs the comfort of knowing it was quick. Eternal rest grant unto her, oh Lord…

For not even one minute had you been able to do it.

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Him

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Too loud, his friend blurted out, “Shaney, we doin’ target practice today?”

Shane looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You wanna?”

“Yes. Beth needs so much more work and I didn’t go help yesterday, so that there’s a day lost.”

Making like it’s all on her again, huh? Her brother seemed to notice it, too. “It’s all good,” he told her.

“Won’t be ‘all good’ when it comes down to it and she forgets to switch the safety off.” She made one of those nervous laughs. “Carol, how about you come, too?”

“Y/N,” Shane suggested. “Cool down.”

Daryl heard the inhale Y/N made, but Shane went on before she could spout anything back. “How about you go over draw and safety drills with the girl right at the farm instead? No need to drive out to that field to shoot today.”

“B-But Mr. Greene don’t want us handling firearms on his property.”

Shane’s hand gripped the steering wheel really tight. Ha, and he licked his teeth the way Y/N does when she’s fixing to get mad. “Hershel’s gotta pick his battles.”

“Hey. It’s his land, skills, and supplies that saved Carl’s—”

“—Stop!” cried out from the back so suddenly that everyone immediately went dumb.

It was the biggest noise Daryl had ever heard Carol make. Probably the loudest any of them had heard the woman. The Walshes hadn’t even been going at it that hard, they was barely arguing. Still, must’ve been too much for Carol right then. Who could blame her?

“I’m sorry. Please, I just need some quiet,” Carol told them, softer.

The siblings apologized and shut up. He heard Y/N throw in an “I love you.” Whether it was to Shane or Carol, he wasn’t sure.

The seat began to feel very comfortable. He began nodding off again. Here and there he reckons he fell asleep, but was doing his best to not. When he could make out that the women in back were whispering to each other, it gave him something to focus on to help him stay awake. “Music?” he heard Y/N offer.

“I didn’t realize you brought it.” Carol’s voice still sounded small as a mouse’s. “That would help, I think.”

Y/N made a small groan in the middle of Carol’s sentence. “I just remembered I left it with Jimmy. I have only the headphones, the, the truck’s got a cassette player, so I-I left it plugged in with the converter. He, um — oh, Daryl, we woke you?” She couldn’t have sounded more guilty if she tried.

“Nah, you’re good,” he grunted, sitting up taller—owww! He moved his chest wrong when he sat up and his collarbone was not happy about it.

The car fell quiet again for a few moments.

“Jimmy was real upset about his dad this morning, so I figured the mp3 would be a treat, or…” she finished explaining to Carol, then trailed off.

“Who needs that when we got the radio?” Shane announced, and way too strong. Like, way too strong. And why the hell was he white knuckling the steering wheel? The car wasn’t even pushing 30mph.

And, yeah, did he just say ‘radio?’

“Does 88.9 come in down here?” Y/N piped in from the back, suddenly as peppy as a cheerleader. “They changed it to a white noise station, but it’s super relaxin’.”

Shane pushed radio on and got nothing but static as he scrolled through ’til hitting 88.9. The static had some high-pitched whistles to it. “Wanna leave it on this one?”

“Eh, it’s a mite whistle-ly.”

“Yeah, lemme try 105 instead…”

What the hell is this?

More button pushing on Shane’s part.

Daryl heard giggling going on in the backseat. Even he was starting to grin despite himself.

“Hold up, we’re down near Columbus. Y’all, we need 1420 AM,” and the guy legit clicked through the static until the radio was legit at 1420 AM.

“Aw, yes,” his little sister cheered. “I love this one!”

“And it’s at the best part of the track!”

“Hot damn, y’all are weird,” Daryl couldn’t keep himself from snorting. “Carol, I think we should walk.” He glanced in the side-view mirror and saw that she was smiling big. Good to see.

“Listen, listen, this is it,” Y/N insisted to the both of them, then closed her eyes and held her hand up like she wanted them to wait. Then, she made the shhhh static noise. Her brother copied her.

And then, Daryl lost it.

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You

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Shane has been getting so like his old self — no, better!

Bringing up their silly white-noise radio inside joke, for one. It actually had Daryl wheezing (possibly partially due to his injured ribs and collarbone, ouch, it must’ve hurt him so bad!).

Even more to the point, your joy and pride in your big brother was as high as it ever had been last night, when you learned that he’d gone to the chapel to bury the bodies. Not to burn, to bury. An important distinction. And one that he knows you care about.

Rick, when telling you this in private last night, had surmised that it was part of him trying to atone for…well, for more than Rick knows about. But it doesn’t matter why Shane was ‘atoning’, what matters is that he’s trying to! What a nearly perfect Sunday, right?

So, once you’d gotten back to the farm after yet another painful trip to the highway spot, you were confident and trusting enough to bring up Fort Benning with him. That you thought the two of you should start preparing to go, just you two.

You weren’t quite sure what his reaction might be. After all, he was very aware that you had lots of doubts about a military fort (read: martial law), but there was no other viable option that you could see to deal with the situation. And, well, Shane had been planning to go without you and without your knowing about it ahead of time. Then, his plans changed. It was after Carl got shot that his plans changed.

But with the secret of the new baby, and now the barn, you’d decided there was no alternative than to remove Shane from the equation for a little while. It was safer better for everyone involved if the two of you...what’s a good word for it?

‘Scouted out,’ that’s a good way to describe it.

It would be better for everybody involved if the two of you scouted out Fort Benning, so you’d know if it was trustworthy and safe for the rest of the group. That’s how you chose to phrase it to him, when you walked with Shane to the stables under the guise of seeing Nelly.

“Really, your idea that it’s secure isn’t stupid. If you want to scout it out, I want to go with you,” she told him. You’d worded that sentence carefully so as to not lie, then quickly blabbed away as if it didn’t make your insides scream to consider leaving. “And I figured I’d, um, at the pharmacy run tomorrow, I’d try pickin’ up extras of what we might need if we go out on our own.” You made clicky noises at Nelly, who turned her head toward you but did not move from her spot in the stall. “Aw, don’t act all shy just because a new man is here.” You told yourself it was because she couldn’t be scritched with the protective wire mesh on the stall windows. The mesh must’ve been an outbreak renovation.

Shane’s reaction to your idea was somewhere in the realm of cautious, maybe? Surprised? “Y/N, what brought this up? You was hard pressed to go to Atlanta, never mind Fort Benning.”

You’d prepared for such a question. And again, your answer wasn’t really a lie: “They don’t need us to keep up the search for Sophia, they got plenty.”

He made a face when you mentioned the search. You acknowledged it. “Even though it’ll likely be her corpse, it would still mean she could be mourned properly.” Then, with a wave toward the outside, you continued, “This place is good as gold. Remote but not too much.Secure. Got plenty of food, lots of shelter. There don’t seem to be walkers that happen across the property, neither.” Which wasn’t a lie! None have wandered across the property….they were, as it so happened, housed there purposefully.

Shane crossed his arms.

You didn’t mirror it in challenge like you might tend to, and not only because remembering the barn jumpstarted that breathless feeling of panic. You wanted to be level-headed about this, no arguing. So, you went on to admit, “But, might could not be long-term here.” The words you’d planned to summarize your thesis then, unfortunately, escaped you, so, you bought time by shrugging and moving your hands around. The closing statement ended up being: “W-We should give Fort Benning a look.”

He stared into space, the wheels turning. His head was nodding slightly. “Okay.”

“Alrighty! L-Let’s plan to, to, to,” you stammered, “in a, in, um, a week or so? Two weeks?” The decision being set was more terrifying than you’d anticipated. Your pulse got faster, too, so you took a deep breathe to make up for it.

“Yeah, um, yeah. A week or so,” he agreed in a flat, dull tone, then looked down. He tried to smile when he looked up at you, but it was forced as if he felt guilty. “You sound so scared, kid.”

“It’s scary.”

“It is.” He sighed. The guilty look he had then changed to something different. Brighter. “Whoever’s out there should be real scared, we’re that good a team.”

If you thought you were proud of him before, well shoot.

Shane is back, completely.

What a complete shift, a full 180, from your bearing on the situation from yesterday versus today.

All of these months of seeing him change for the worse, frighten you, shift into a man you didn’t recognize. After it finally culminated in you having a panic attack yesterday. The stranger wasn’t there anymore. It was just your brother. Shane.

You smiled, and thought to yourself how you were actually happy to sacrifice in this way for him. This is how you could protect him, by leaving with him for a little while. His idea to seek out Fort Benning was logical, and if it so happened to keep the peace here, what fault was there in safeguarding Lori’s secret for a little while longer?

Even if setting out on your own was a risk, you two were a good team. And now, with proper firepower from the station back in King County. You feel almost ashamed for how worried and scared you’d been of him.

“I guess it’s gotta be done,” Shane appeared to think out loud. “And Andrea may want to come, she'd wanted to before." This you hadn't known, either. Your brother rubbed his buzz cut back and forth, back and forth. "We all know Rick wants to stay put, but, maybe, after a little convincing, if we prove it’s far safer there.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Mmm, I don’t know which of you is more bullheaded, you or him.” As if; Shane is obviously the more bullheaded of the two. Rick knows how to be a dang good diplomat.

“Easy. It’s you," Shane teases back without missing a beat.

You walked right into that one, didn’t you? Well, naturally you had to feign offense and pretend to huff, “Shut up, loser.”

“Yeah make me, weirdo.” He mussed up your hair (ahghfghghgh!) and started toward the doors. “What’s say you do them drills with the girl now? You can use an empty pistol for it. Hershel can’t have a problem with an empty one.”

“I’ll ask his permission.”

You also walked into this one: “Goody-two shoes.”

“Dumb jock.”

Shane really was back!

It really was a near-perfect Sunday.

------------------------------------------

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[dramaticallytotal]

The Rise of Team E-Scope Headcanons: Part Two

Idea Post Part One

UwU more headcanons because I am in love with my own au.

• Team E-Scope shares clothes all the time even though they aren't the same sizes. Noah will steal Eva's cropped hoodie if he's cold because the crop isn't as noticeable on him. Izzy will steal Noah's button-up for funsies. Eva has taken Izzy's wrap skirt to us as a headscarf or bandana. When she does, Noah and Izzy call her their babushka. They swap sunglasses often, too, because before the season started, Izzy decided they needed a 'signature' look, and apparently, that would be sunglasses. Also the black pieces of clothing they added to their outfits.

• Chris told all contestants that they had to change up their look a little. Nothing too drastic, maybe like a shirt color change, shoe change, or more layers, fewer layers, or even a hair style change since this season is supposed to be bigger and better. So the cast has to try and make themselves look better. Many are OFFENDED. They look great, Chris! But Team E-Scope jumps at this chance.

• Noah switches his teal button-up for a black one. His red vest is the same as the one from my I've Been Around The World! Au, his pants are the same as well. He also found some hiking boots in a teal close to his former button-up color. And, of course, his utility belt!

• Izzy still wears her iconic top and wrap skirt, but the shorts she wears underneath are longer than her old ones, about to mid thigh. She wears a 3/4 sleeve cropped black compression shirt under her iconic green shirt. She also switched out her shoes for black Tom's wrap boots.

• Eva wears a similar top from season one with matching compression leggings. She also wears a black cropped hoodie like previously mentioned. She has taken to wearing her tube socks over the leggings as a fashion tip from Noah's sisters. And she has taken to wearing all black tennis shoes.

• They got Owen some black shoes because they don't want to exclude him.

• Everyone else did little changes here and there and are a little freaked out by the changes of Team E-Scope. Noah waves it off as him being a coincidence as he's merely wearing his uniform for when he worked for Chris, and Chris wanted him to stand out from the crew and interns. Everyone believes it because they know how Chris is. Izzy just says she likes matching with Eva, and she likes Big O to match her. After that, it was just accepted.

• Privately, Team E-Scope explains in a confessional that they planned the outfits. The outfits are a subtle way to tell everyone that they are a team without outright stating it.

• The whole Bridgette pole thing never happened because Team E-Scope saw that Bridgette was Alejandro's next target, and while they were planning on laying low in the beginning and doing their best to not get involved in other's schemes, they don't like Alejandro messing with someone in a relationship. They don't outright warn her because if she doesn't believe them and tells Alejandro, then they'll be on his radar.

• So Noah asks how Bridgette is without Geoff because he knows how hard it is on his sister who is in a long-distance relationship. Just little things to remind her of her boyfriend. Now, some may think this is out of character for Noah, but I headcanon that because he has so many sisters and some have gotten hurt in past relationships, he cares because he knows what that hurt can do to a person. Plus, he's friends with Bridgette. And while he doesn't point blank, tell Bridgette Alejandro is bad news and just using her. He does tell her to be careful because of how it looks.

• "Honey, I get you think he's being nice and whatnot. But from an outside perspective, he's flirting. He's flirting hard, and you don't seem against it."

• The accidental kiss still happens, but after it happens and they get near the pole, Bridgette remembers what Noah was saying, and even though she doesn't like making people sad she firmly tells Alejandro she and her team had a plan and walks away.

• The man was shooketh.

• This is when he starts to be suspicious of Team E-Scope, more specifically Noah, because at the end of the challenge, Bridgette pulled Noah away to tell him what happened. Alejandro didn't hear the conversation, but he could clearly see Bridgette telling him thank you and hugging the boy. He doesn't know why, but he finds this odd.

• In this au, it's not only Trent and Eva who make it onto World Tour. It's also Justin, Katie, and Sadie. Mainly because Justin got tired of walking around trying to find help, and since they split up from Geoff and Beth, Justin started walking back to the bus with Katie and Sadie. They got back in time for the rescue.

• Teams -

Team Victory: Bridgette, DJ, Harold, Leshawna, Lindsay, Ezekiel (who still has a deal with Chris to become feral, so really Duncan would have been on this team if he hadn't quit), and Sadie!

Team Amazon: Cody, Eva, Courtney, Heather, Gwen, Sierra (after her and Izzy switch), and Katie.

Team Chris: Noah, Izzy (after her and Sierra switch), Alejandro, Owen, Tyler, Trent, and Justin.

• Yes, Noah hates the fact that he's on a team with Justin. Justin finds it hilarious because he knows he annoys Noah. He purposefully flirts with Noah to get him annoyed. On a plus side, he gets really good at dodging books!

• Alejandro views Justin as competition looks wise, not so much smarts wise, but he absolutely hates to see him flirt with Noah. He doesn't know why, but it just gets him so irritated. Maybe it's because he thinks Justin is trying to do what he's doing by getting close to Noah. Yeah, maybe that's it! Obviously, Justin is also suspicious of Noah and his Team E-Scope and plans to get close to keep an eye on them just like Alejandro!

• This makes Alejandro more determined to become Noah's friend.

• Izzy finds it hilarious because the girls get really jealous of Noah being fought over by the two hottest guys in the game.

• Noah wants to bash his head into the wall. But he can't because he's also trying to befriend Alejandro ala keep your friends close and you enemies closer. (Izzy calls them frenemies)

• Because of their previous training, Noah is able to get through the lasers, no problem, in Paris, but he makes sure to make it look like he's struggling. But at some point, he got into the zone and didn't realize he was doing really well (a big thank you is sent to his sisters for making them practice laser challenges because one of his nephews remembered the laser challenge in Action.)

• This furthers Alejandro's belief that Noah is more than he seems, but it also flustered him because he didn't know Noah was so flexible and he is just a teenage boy. He is weak ÚnÙ.

• Even though Courtney and Heather believe they are their team's leader, the team tends to look to Eva for leadership. This makes her really happy.

• Rapa Nui challenge again only this time when everyone sees Chris in the loin cloth. Admist the yelling in horror, Izzy and Eva slammed their hands over Noah's eyes, which sent him knocking back into Alejandro.

• For better ratings and for fan service, Chris absolutely got the grooms tuxes for the wedding challenge. Eva had to cover Noah's face with his veil so he wouldn't get distracted by the sight of Alejandro in a tux.

• Katie and Sadie went to therapy for their codependency and are much better now. But if the two are in economy class together, they tend to sleep by each other. Some gave them some grief about it, but they stopped once Team E-Scope and Owen dragged the girls into their cuddle puddle to get people to stop giving them shit about it.

• The combined glares of Team E-Scope and Owen are enough to get anyone to back off.

• In Jamaica, Izzy did crash the plane, but the only one who got a little hurt was Owen. Izzy felt really bad, so she was more determined to win than anything. It was her and Noah paired up for the bobsledding.

• Because she was so focused on winning and keeping Noah focused (he may have been distracted by Mr. Speedo) she doesn't notice Alejandro breaking the track. But Noah did. (Totally not because he was paying close attention to Mr. Speedo or anything.) Eva definitely noticed, too.

• No Noah and Heather friendship in this one, sadly, but they are rivals, and I think it's very funny because Noah thinks they're rivals because Heather found out about Team E-Scope's scheming, but really it's because Heather is jealous of the attention Noah is getting from Alejandro. (Even though she is suspicious of Team E-Scope)

• As stated before, the viewers are all rooting for Team E-Scope, and some of the castmates are tok but more so they are in awe and fear over how well Team E-Scope has been playing the game and playing them.

• Chris is having so much fun planning and making merchandise for Team E-Scope or, as he likes to call them, Team Villains Era. He and the network are making bank on the shirts, but he has plans for friendship necklaces & bracelets, sunglasses, hats, sweater vests! Etc.

• Everyone thinks Owen would be mad that his friends were playing as a team without him he just laughs. He knows he can't keep a secret, but they never really left him out, and he says as much. If they schemed and knew he could help, they included him. Plus, they never made him feel left out. And he's just plain proud of his friends for making it so far, especially his Little Buddy!

• Because the cast is bigger, the threat of double elimination is very real. They don't know if a challenge will be reward, elimination, or double elimination.

Next

[freesia-writes]

Ch 17: Graffiti

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.7k

“You really don’t need to be doing this,” Omega said quietly, her face downcast as she dipped her rag in the small, soapy bucket of water. “I’m the one who messed up.” She continued rubbing at the carelessly spray painted stucco wall, watching the bright colors slowly fade beneath the cleaning solvent. 

“We all mess up,” Lyra answered soothingly, scrubbing in circles with her own brush. “You never ‘arrive’. Or you might feel like you do, and then something swipes your legs out from under you or you do something stupid again.” She chuckled, glancing at the girl to see if her words were helpful or discouraging. “But you’re smart and kind, and your heart is in the right place. That’s what matters.”

“This didn’t seem so smart or kind.”

“Well, you clearly have the right perspective now, so I think you can chalk it up to a lesson learned and move on.”

“Hm.”

They cleaned in silence for a while, side by side in front of the small, flat wall of one of the square island homes on the outside of the Town Square. A barely-recognizable (and wildly crass)artistic rendition of Sy Snootles was slowly disappearing as they chipped away at it little by little. 

“Sometimes we beat ourselves up because we feel like it makes up for it,” Lyra offered, and Omega nodded in response, rubbing her hair out of her face for a moment before continuing her task. 

“I just don’t get how I can simultaneously know that it’s stupid and yet get carried right along in it.”

“It’s hard to go against the flow.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m not exactly one who has ever really fit in anywhere though.”

“I think your brothers would disagree,” Lyra suggested, touching her elbow in a brief pause. A slight warmth appeared on Omega’s face, and she nodded again, pressing her lips together as she stepped back to look at their progress. 

“It all happened so fast,” she said, looking at the colorful vandalism that she’d been coerced into the night before. “And I don’t know where the idea even came from, but suddenly we were all just… Ugh.” 

“Can I offer an old lady sentiment that might help in future situations?” 

Omega laughed, returning to her scrubbing, “You’re not an old lady.”

“Alright, well… Just remember this. Nothing good happens after midnight.”

They shared a quiet chuckle, each nodding with their own understanding of the adage as they continued their cleaning in silence. 

Hunter sighed from where he was leaning against the building across the street, having approached to check on Omega but pausing as he sensed a sort of intimacy occurring between the two. He’d hung back, listening to their words as best he could to ensure he wasn’t interrupting something important. A deep gratitude settled in his heart as he heard Lyra’s gentle encouragement, and he shifted from one foot to the other, unsure if he should even make an appearance at this point. But he did have something he wanted to say to Omega, and the sooner the better, as he felt bad for the way he’d reacted when he’d found out about her ill-fated shenanigans.

She probably wouldn’t have shared it with him in the first place, but Omega had arrived at their cabin in the wee hours of the morning, sniffling so loudly as she headed for bed that Hunter had to investigate. She’d been overwhelmed with remorse, partly because of her participation in unsavory activities, but mostly because when they had finished spray painting the side of the house, a few of the kids had thrown the paint cans at the wall in triumph. Their shortsighted actions had resulted in the homeowner coming out to see what the fuss was, and his appearance had solidified her realization that this sort of thing was not what she wanted to be about. 

“He was so old and frail,” Omega was telling Lyra now, voice quivering with miserable remembrance. “He shuffled out here and saw all of this, and his face just fell. It was awful. The others ran away, but I just… I couldn’t. He looked at me and was so sad. He asked why we did this, and I couldn’t answer him. I just promised I’d make it right. I commed the other kids this morning to help clean it up, and they either laughed at me or ignored it.”

“Because they’re idiots,” Hunter said, appearing behind them without warning. Lyra startled a bit, flinging soap bubbles across her skirt as her hand jerked the brush she’d just dipped in the bucket.

“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?” she asked, a smile diffusing the mild indignation in her voice. 

“Usually just animals,” he winked, then looked at Omega. “How’s it goin?”

“Fine,” she said quietly, not meeting his gaze. Lyra looked back and forth between the two, picking up on the discomfort, and turned to continue her scrubbing, slowly moving down the wall to give them some space. 

“Hey, listen…” Hunter began, running a hand through his hair and resting it awkwardly on the back of his neck for a moment. 

“Please don’t lecture me,” Omega said abruptly, rubbing the wall harder with her rag. “I feel bad enough already.”

“No… That’s not… No,” he fumbled, shaking his head and dropping his hand to his side. “I uh… I’m sorry. You were already sad about it, and I jumped down your throat… I was just… I don’t know, I hate that these kids can cause you so much trouble.”

“Ah,” she said in quiet revelation, slowing her vigorous scrubbing a bit as she began to register his unspoken fears and the deep care he held for her. “Yeah. It’s messy sometimes.”

“I can see that,” he attempted, stepping back to look at what was left of the so-called artwork: the bottom half of the Pa'lowick singer in a very embellished style. “You guys really went for it, eh?”

“Ugh,” Omega said with a roll of the eyes. 

“This part here is particularly notable,” Lyra remarked quietly, gesturing at the ample, curvaceous buttcheeks that they’d given the otherwise flat-bottomed entertainer. “It feels a little weird rubbing them so hard.” Her deadpan delivery made both Hunter and Omega chuckle, and he went to stand behind Lyra, admiring the creation. 

“I think you missed a spot,” he teased, pointing over her shoulder to what looked like a few exaggerated hairs that would have been poking out of an obscene place. “Better get in there.” Lyra shot him a look, meeting his eyes with an initial flash of humorous challenge, but it quickly melted into an amused admiration that Omega couldn’t have missed if she wanted to. The young girl’s eyes flickered from her to Hunter, whose sharp features were similarly relaxed and warm, and she bent over the cleaning bucket with a small smile. 

“You might as well make yourself useful if you’re gonna stand here and critique our work,” Omega announced, tossing Hunter an extra rag after she’d squeezed it out. He didn’t expect it to come flying his way so quickly, yet he did indeed catch it, though not without his tight grasp sending a splotch of soapy water across his chest. With a grumble in Omega’s direction and a mockingly stern grin at Lyra in response to her laughter, he found his own spot on the wall and began to help. 

They fell into thought-filled silence for a while, working slowly and steadily until the graffiti was almost gone. A few stubborn spots remained, and Omega paused, stretching her arms out in different directions to refresh them a bit. Lyra gave her a pat on the back and a reassuring nod when the girl met her gaze, returning it with a small smile of her own. 

“Next time they try to make me do something stupid, I’m gonna tell them to stuff it,” Omega resolved, ignoring the approving snicker from Hunter. 

“It’s so hard, especially in the moment,” Lyra commiserated. “It took me years, and… Well… I still don’t think I’m very good at standing up for myself.” Hunter snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, his mind wandering to her attractive coworker who had the gall to regale her with his sordid tales of sexual escapades. 

“You seem to be pretty calm about everything,” Omega observed. “It makes you look confident.” 

“Oh gosh,” Lyra laughed, tossing her braid back over her shoulder to look at the girl with an openness on her face. “I’m glad it comes across that way. I just… I don’t want to get into anything with anyone, and I don’t think my opinions are particularly life-changing, so… Not a lot of need to make myself big or forceful for any reason. It’s easier to just do your own thing, I guess.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Lyra hesitated, thrown off by the girl’s uncanny way of zeroing in on a tender point. She considered her words, slowly moving her brush back and forth against the wall and taking a moment to reflect so that she could answer honestly. “Yes,” she said simply, the depth of emotion behind her words creating a flurry of feelings in Hunter. “There are people that were very special to me who are no longer in my life. I connected with them so deeply that it makes other relationships seem pale in comparison. But I suppose that might be my own tainted perspective…” 

“Yeah, people seem to change once you get to know them,” Omega said, thinking of her own shifting relationships with her friends. “Or they want you to change.”

“I used to be more… flexible,” Lyra admitted. “When I was young and in school, I wanted to do whatever it took to be included. To not be made fun of. I also thought it was super fun to take risks, try new things, and be whoever they wanted me to be on any given day. Eventually, it started to feel a little empty, because there were very few constants in my life, so it was like… who am I, at the core? I realized my identity was dependent on ‘them’, and who even is ‘them’? The most outspoken people, who I later realized were just the most insecure… and they depended on mockery and false confidence to make themselves feel superior.” She paused, looking back at the girl. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot.”

“No, keep going,” Omega encouraged. “It’s tragically relatable.”

“Tragically,” Lyra echoed with a chuckle. “I mean, that’s basically it. I didn’t understand until I was a little older that it was my choice to let their opinions matter to me or not. Once I stopped caring, there was a sort of freedom. But, it took me a long time to get there – I was already an adult, and I was out of that environment where you’re forced to be around these people all day. Anyway… This probably isn’t helpful, but a potential encouragement to you might be the fact that the rest of your year is more site-based than classroom-based, so you don’t have to be around the herd mentality as much.”

They continued chatting, slowly fading from school talk to random life things, and Hunter remained quiet. He found his eyes wandering across the hunch of Lyra’s back as she finished scrubbing off the last bit of alien foot, and his hand twitched at his side at the sight of the little pieces of hair that had fallen from her braid to tickle the side of her face instead. He was moved by her vulnerability and authenticity, and it was causing a surprising reaction within.

“Ohh, look at that! It hasn’t been so bright since it was brand new!” a frail voice broke through, and its owner soon made an appearance, tottering along in his slow, steady gait. “Thank you, young lady.”

“I’m sorry it happened in the first place,” Omega said, moving back in satisfaction as she checked the entire wall for any remaining paint. 

“Well thank you for making it right. That’s more than your friends could say for themselves,” the elderly man remarked. 

“Yes sir,” she agreed, packing up her cleaning supplies. They exchanged some polite pleasantries and eventually parted ways, Omega heading home for a shower and nap, Hunter and Lyra finding themselves immediately lost in a random conversation as they leaned on the low stone wall across the street. He laughed heartily at something she said, surprising himself with the openness of his delight, then slowly quieted, regarding her with an almost bashful admiration. His face grew serious, watching her stare down the street at the people milling about, and he wondered where her mind was. His own was in a few places at once, the internal conflict driving him crazy. Following her gaze, he scanned the cobblestoned path, idly noting every gap and bump in the road as he mulled everything over, frowning in concentration.

“Hunter?” her low voice jerked him from his reverie, and a little wave of tingles ran down his body as he lightly touched his arm, pulling her hand back when he turned to look at her a little too quickly. “Sorry,” she continued, glancing down and away. “I just wondered what you were up to for the rest of the day?”

“Well, I’ve got some things to finish up in the shop,” he said, almost regretfully. He stood up straight, absently adjusting his shirt, then looked at her with a renewed intensity. “And then… Uh… Would you like to go for a walk?” 

“Always,” she answered with a smile. “Meet at the edge?” They’d developed a habit of starting their walks from the point between their houses where the sloping meadows met The Forest. But he shook his head, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I wanted to try something different, if you’re up for it,” he admitted, kicking himself at his sudden sheepishness. “I’ll meet you at your fence?”

“Oh, sure,” she nodded. “Sounds good.” 

“Ah, so this is why you aren’t in your shop!” Wrecker’s voice broke through as he approached from a side street. “I’ve had about four people ask me if I knew where you were. Why isn’t your comm on?” 

“Must have forgotten…” Hunter muttered, shooting Lyra a quick smirk. 

“Oh suuuure,” Wrecker laughed, clapping Hunter on the back. “You retire and you think you can just slack off…” He drifted off in response to the sharp look from Hunter and began backtracking as best he could. “I mean, retire from the last job… And don’t take this one too seriously… You know. Anyway, hi Lyra! How are you?”

“I’m alright, Wrecker,” she said with a chuckle, gasping for air as he trapped her arms against her sides in a big hug before releasing her and stepping back to admire the two of them standing beside each other. 

“I sure am glad you two are dating,” Wrecker declared, unabashed glee across his face. “You’re just adorable together.” Hunter’s blush was partly covered by his tattoo, but the speed at which his hand flew to awkwardly rub his neck was a bit of a giveaway. Lyra similarly shifted on her feet, clasping her arms together across her front then releasing them.

“We’re… We’re just friends,” she deflected, staring at the ground too hard to notice Wrecker’s eyebrows climbing up his forehead or the quick furrowing of Hunter’s brow before he hid it behind a carefully neutral expression.

“Oh. Really?” Wrecker stammered. “Ahh, I mean. Yeah. I’m glad you’re friends. Welp, I’ll see you later!”

“Later,” Hunter echoed, turning to Lyra. “I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Can’t wait,” she smiled, turning demurely to head toward the path to her home. Hunter watched her go, then slowly made his way toward his own, grappling with the undeniable fact that her deflection had somehow rubbed him the wrong way while being equally confused and clueless as to why.

.

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