#he did eventually change his mind. he of course never notified me of this and acted confused when i was like i am not talking to you about

[schwazombie]

Thinking about the argument I had with Husband about AI art because he wanted to argue that it was his right as a human to be able to create art, that it was unfair that artists could and he couldn't so of course he should be able to just put a prompt in a machine and get a result he could tweak.

I was like motherfucker that's not you creating art. You want to create art you put the time into it and learn to draw or write. He was like I've tried I'm just not a creative person >:(

I said, How Long Did You Try. He was like I tried to learn how to draw when I was a teen for like three months and it didn't work!

I looked at him I said I have been writing for over two decades.

[sailortongue]

The King's Bargain (VI)

Pairing: King!Ushijima x Princess!Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, future angst

Summary: As a princess, you were always expected to eventually marry royalty, but never did you think that you would be engaged to the very king who declared war on your kingdom.

WC: 4k

<-Prev | Series Masterlist | Next->

Two weeks. That’s all that was left until you were officially a married woman. A queen. After spending time with Ushijima, you’d come to accept the marriage. You were still apprehensive, of course, but who wouldn’t be. Your entire life was about to change. For better or worse was still to be seen. You and the rest of your family were already packed to make the trip to Shiratorizawa. Ushijima seemed excited to go back home, and had spent a fair amount of time telling you about his friends back at the palace. It was cute how much he clearly cared about them.

“What?” he asked, stopping in the middle of his story about how Tendou once lost his eyebrows in a blacksmith’s shop. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You giggled, “Because.”

He cocked his head to the side, “That does not answer my question. Because why?”

“Just like to see you talk about your friends. They obviously mean a lot to you. Can’t wait to meet them all. Especially Tendou! He sounds like so much fun.”

Ushijima chuckled, “And I’m sure they can’t wait to meet my bride.”

A sudden, unwelcome thought came to mind, “Ushi-”

“Wakatoshi.”

Your face reddened, still unaccustomed to calling him by his given name. “Right. Wakatoshi. What if they don’t like me?”

He seemed shocked for a second as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Darling, what’s not to like?”

You think your brain just short circuited. He’d never called you a pet name before, let alone “darling.”

“I don’t know, I’m just nervous I guess.” You were so flustered after hearing his new nickname for you that you were having a hard time forming a coherent thought.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m confident that they’ll love you.”

You had just opened your mouth to respond when your nuisance of a brother barged into your room. “Alone! Again! I knew it! Where’s Iwa? You know you’re not supposed to be alone without supervision.”

Thankfully, your mother had accompanied Tooru to your room and was quick to silence him, “Oh, hush, Tooru, they’ve been alone with each other plenty! Now come along.” She grabbed him by the ear, fully prepared to drag him away, when she turned to you and Ushijima, “Sorry for the interruption, dears. Just wanted to drop in and let you know that you’ll be leaving in the next hour or so. We’ll leave you two be now.” With a final smile at the two of you, she walked away with Tooru in tow.

You and Ushijima shared a look after the strange intrusion before both breaking out into laughter.

“Maybe you're the one who should be worried about not being liked.”

“Hmm, I disagree. There’s nothing to worry about because there’s nothing he can do about it. You’re my bride and he has no say in the matter.”

“Well, yeah, but he’s still gonna be your brother-in-law. Even if he’d rather die than accept it.”

“His feelings about me don’t matter. I’ll be satisfied as long as I have you at my side.”

He was so confident in his words that you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. The conversation continued until Iwaizumi notified you that it was time to leave.

You and Ushijima met the rest of your family at the front staircase of the palace. They were all gathered to see you and Wakatoshi off. Mattsun, Makki, and Iwa had also come to wish their farewells. It wasn’t the last time you would see them, but it would be a few days before they all left for the journey to Shiratorizawa. The guards that had initially come with Wakatoshi to Seijoh would be escorting the two of you back to his country.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs, facing the carriage that had been prepared for you. This was really it. You were leaving your home, your country, your family. Granted, your family was also going to Shiratorizawa to attend the wedding, but they would return here afterwards; you would not.

“Are you okay?” asked Ushijima, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

“You can be honest with me. There’s clearly something on your mind.”

Before you were able to reply, your father’s loud voice instructed both of you to settle into the carriage. The trip would take roughly two days and your father didn’t want you to have to make up for lost time by traveling after nightfall. It wasn’t safe and it would be better to leave early to have more daylight to travel by.

You gave everyone a final hug before Ushijima led you to the carriage, holding his hand out for you to steady yourself as you got in. Once he was also settled, the carriage lurched forward and you were on your way, waving to your family from the window until they were out of sight.

Intimidating. That was your first thought as you saw the Shiratorizawa castle for the first time. It was massive, definitely larger than your own home. As you were looking from the window, you didn’t notice Ushijima admiring the look of awe on your face, ‘adorable’, he thought.

When the carriage finally stopped in front of the castle, the footman opened the door for the two of you. Ushijima was the first to get out, and, as he had at Seijoh, held his hand out to assist you. This man was going to be the death of you if he wasn’t careful. As you were getting down, you lost your footing even with Ushijima’s help, but he was quick to catch you, his hands on your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. If your face wasn’t red before, it definitely was now. Both because Ushijima’s hands were still on your waist and because it was your first appearance in the country and you'd already made a fool of yourself in front of people.

“Are you okay?” asked Ushijima, a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Ushijima nodded in response, “Come, I want you to meet some people. Do not worry about the bags. The servants will bring them to your room.”

Without waiting for a response, Ushijima began walking away, stopping after a few steps to look behind to see if you were following. Quickly catching up to him, he continued to lead you into the palace.

Eventually, you reached a set of closed double doors which were opened by the guards posted on either side of them. It was a grand throne room lined with more guards. There was a single man standing in front of a pair of thrones, waiting for Ushijima, you assumed. His face brightened when he heard the doors open and saw the two of you walk in.

“Ushijima! Glad to see you made it back safely,” he called out, not waiting for the two of you to reach the other side of the room where he stood.

“Glad to be back,” responded Ushijima.

The man, who-based on Ushijima’s descriptions-might be Reon, turned to you when you reached the dais, “You’re Princess Yn, I presume?”

You hadn’t expected him to actually talk to you. “Yes, I am,” was the only thing you could say in your shocked state. The man laughed, “There’s no need to be nervous, I don’t bite.”

Ushijima took it upon himself to introduce you to the man, “Yn, this is Reon, my advisor who has been acting as regent during my stay in Seijoh.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Reon. I hope that we can become friends.”

He nodded politely, “Of course, princess.”

“WAKATOSHI!” shouted a new voice. You all turned to the still-open doors to see another man, this one with bright red hair, running in. This had to be Tendou, Ushijima’s eccentric best friend. He was quick to reach the three of you, abruptly stopping in front of you, “And this must be your cute little wifey, huh Ushijima?”

“Fiancée,” corrected Ushijima. “We are not yet married.”

Tendou shrugged it off, “Eh, close enough.” He grabbed both of your hands in his, leaning in close, “I can’t believe you’re gonna marry Wakatoshi!! You know, I once saw him-”

“TENDOU! Why don’t you show Yn around while Ushijima and I discuss what he’s missed while away?” suggested Reon, placing his hands on the lanky man’s shoulders and leading him towards the door.

“Yes! I’m gonna show her everything!” exclaimed Tendou, seeing this as an opportunity to get to know his future queen. The excitabled redhead wasted no time in dragging you back out of the throne room, eager to show you all that the Shiratorizawan palace had to offer. Ushijima and Reon chuckled as they watched you and Tendou get farther and farther away, thoroughly amused.

Turns out everything really meant everything. Tendou took you all over the palace grounds to introduce you to the rest of the people Ushijima had told you stories of. The first person Tendou took you to find was a butler named Goshiki, who had been so nervous to meet you that he could barely stutter out a sentence. Next was a chef named Shirabu who had been respectful but curt, though you don’t think he did it intentionally or meant any offense by it. Perhaps it was just his disposition.

The next place Tendou took you was the gardens. They were gorgeous but you weren’t given a chance to stop and enjoy it since Tendou was far too excited to stop moving. He was obviously looking for someone specific, a gardener whose name you couldn’t remember. You think it started with a T? In the midst of trying to remember the name, Tendou came to a complete stop, causing you to run into his back. He looked down at you with a teasing smile, “Hope your feet don’t hurt too bad, I saw that fall you almost took out of the carriage and into Ushiwaka’s big beefy arms.” He wiggled his brows ridiculously and you had no choice but to laugh at the ridiculous nickname. Tendou stopped and thought for a moment before huffing, “We’re never gonna find him at this rate. TAICHIIII!” You winced at the sheer volume of his voice, not expecting for the lanky man to yell right next to you. A pause. The man took another breath in preparation to scream again, and you winced in anticipation, but before he could release another screech, a voice yelled back, “YOU’RE SCARING THE BIRDS YOU REDHEADED PRICK!”

Tendou grinned. “There he is!” Cheerily, he once again led you over the stone garden path, forcing you to hurry your steps and attempt not to trip. As soon as you reached the end of the path, you gasped.

There was a beautiful greenhouse, furnished with an iron-wrought fence around and high arches, vines hanging from the ceiling. Dilapidated as it was, with cracks and unruly greenery, it was still breathtaking. Next to it was a small cottage-like shed, which Tendou made a beeline for.

You couldn’t see into the shed yet, but you could hear someone rummaging around. As Tendou led you closer, another man emerged. He was tall, slightly taller than Tendou actually, with red hair, but, unlike his height, it was nowhere near the level of Tendou. He approached the two of you whilst taking off his gloves, extending a hand for you to shake, “Hi, I’m Kawanishi. And you are?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kawanishi. I’m Yn, ” you said, a polite smile on your face.

“Yn? As in Princess Yn, the Seijohan princess? The one marrying King Ushijima?” He asked incredulously. You nodded, confirming his questions.

He was in awe for a second before speaking, “Well, I hope you’ll excuse me, Princess Yn, but I have duties to attend to. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” With that said, he walked back into the shed, continuing to search for whatever it was he was looking for before Tendou yelled for him. You looked up to Tendou to see him already looking at you. “Two more people to meet. Ready, Ushiwifey?”

“Ushiwifey?” you questioned.

“Yeah! Ushiwaka is one of Wakatoshi’s nicknames, and since you’re gonna marry him I’ve decided to call you Ushiwifey!” He seemed so proud of the nickname so you didn’t bother telling him that you weren’t even Ushijima’s wife yet. Afterall, Ushijima had already corrected Tendou earlier. Without warning, he looped his arm with yours and proceeded through the gardens, leading you gods know where. As you got lost in conversation with him, you didn’t realize you had arrived at your next destination: the stables. Tendou wasted no time mounting a horse, offering his hand to help you up. “I can ride by myself, you know.”

“I know. But this is more fun, isn’t it?” He said with a mischievous smile.

“Where are we even going that requires a horse to get there?” You said, concerned that it was somewhere off of the palace grounds.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t far. Why? Worried about being far from Wakatoshi?” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice. You smacked his arm, scoffing. He continued, “We’re going to the training grounds. Wakatoshi has already decided on two knights to guard you. That’s who we’re going to see. The base is on palace grounds, but that doesn’t mean much when the grounds are massive.”

Despite still feeling apprehensive, you took his hand and he hauled up to sit behind him. “Hold on,” he said, and that was the only warning you got as he prompted the horse into a gallop, causing you to latch onto his waist. Ignoring all of your yells to slow down, Tendou whooped in glee.

A short ride later, you found yourself at the entrance to what looked like a military camp. They have this on the castle property? Dismounting from the horse, Tendou once again looped his arm with yours and led the way. The men walking around all seemed to avoid Tendou like the plague, giving you both a wide berth. The obvious avoidance didn’t seem to phase Tendou though, as if he was used to it. You decided you would wait until later to ask about it.

“Here we are,” said Tendou, pointing to the building you were approaching. Tendou knocked first and a muffled come in was heard through the door. Tendou opened the door for you and said, “Ladies first.”

The room you walked into seemed to be an office of some sort, with a desk facing the door and bookshelves and maps lining the walls. There was an old man sitting at the desk who introduced himself to you as Colonel Washijo before addressing Tendou, “What business do you have here?”

“Wakatoshi’s appointed Semisemi and Hayato to be the princess’ guards.”

“I see. Wait here, I’ll bring them.”

Colonel Washijo returned a few minutes later with two men in tow. One of them had ash blond hair with dark tips and the other had dark hair that was spiked back. The one with blond hair bowed before speaking, “Princess Yn, my name is Semi Eita and I’ll be your knight from now on.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sir Semi.” You turned to the other knight, “So, you must be Sir Hayato, right?”

“Indeed, Princess. I look forward to serving you.”

With that said, Tendou led you back to the horse just in time to see another approach the stable, it’s rider none other than the king himself.

“Wakatoshi! Did you miss your wifey so much that you got impatient to have her back? Hmm?” Tendou’s teasing elicited a small giggle from you, which caught Ushijima’s attention. The slight smile on his face went unnoticed by you, but nothing could escape Tendou’s sharp eyes. “I saw that!”

“Saw what?” The soft look on his face disappeared in an instant.

“You smiled at her! Aww, Ushiwaka loves his Ushiwifey!” Tendou proceeded to tease Ushijima, but he might as well have been teasing you instead. Ushijima seemed impervious, but you felt like you might combust right then and there if Tendou didn’t stop talking.

“Princess,” called Ushijima, “would you like to ride back with me? Or would you be more comfortable with Tendou?”

The answer came with ease, no thinking required. Without hesitation you answered, “You.” He seemed somehow relieved at your answer. This time, you actually got to see the smile he directed at you. He held his hand out to hoist you up, his large palm engulfing yours. He waited until you were comfortably seated before nodding to Tendou and setting off for the palace. With him sitting in front of you, you couldn’t see the faint blush on his face at having your arms wrapped around his middle, and even if you did see it he’d claim to merely be flushed from the cold. But when you snuggled your face into his back, there would have been no denying that the stoic king was blushing.

Two weeks had never gone by faster than the ones leading up to your wedding day. Now that he had kingly duties to attend to, you didn’t see terribly much of Ushijima, though he did make it a point to set aside at least a little time each day specifically for you. Sometimes it would be a walk in the garden, or tea on the balcony, and sometimes, when he would find you in the library, he would pull you onto his lap and listen to you read to him. He had fallen asleep more than once that way and you’d had to gently shake him awake, to which he groaned and tightened his grip, much like he had that time when you’d fallen asleep on him in your family’s library. And now here you were, standing in front of a mirror as maids readied you in your wedding garb. Gods, you were nervous. There were so many people out there. Afterall, there was no such thing as a small royal wedding. Your family, including Mattsun, Makki, and Iwa, were here as well as a handful of other monarchs: Prince Bokuto, King Kuroo, King Daichi, King Kita, and Aone, who was representing Dateko in place of King Futakuchi. Of course the members of their courts were also in attendance.

You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t realize the maids had finished until one of them loudly called your name and asked if you were satisfied. You looked at your reflection. The maids had undeniably done an amazing job. Your makeup was gorgeous and your hair had been done to perfection. Not to mention the dress you had chosen flattered your body and was everything you had ever wanted in a wedding dress. The only thing you didn’t get to pick was the groom.

Your face fell, the awed look you'd had when admiring the maids’ work slipped into one of distress. Were you really getting married to a man you had only known for, what, a month? Sure, you had a fondness for the king, and he seemed to harbor affection for you as well, but did you love him? Did he love you? In the end you guessed it didn’t really matter. Love never did in arranged marriages. “Hey!” You jerked back to awareness. You’d spaced out again. You really needed to get it together. Imagine if you did that at the altar. You might just die of embarrassment. Saeko was standing in front of you with Kiyoko and Yachi. They were all from Karasuno, but they were the only girls you were close enough with to pick as bridesmaids. “Get out of your head! It’ll all be fine, promise.” Saeko gave you a reassuring smile as she handed you your bouquet.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do this,” you said, mustering up as much courage as you could. They were called out to meet the groomsmen shortly after each giving you a pep talk. You wished you could watch them walk out with the men Ushijima had chosen. Tendou would walk with Saeko, Reon with Yachi, and Semi with Kiyoko. Tendou, of course, was the best man, and Saeko was your maid of honor.

When the three pairs were in their places besides the altar, you were led into position as the traditional song played for you to walk down the aisle, your father at your side to symbolically give you away to Ushijima. The doors reopened and you were revealed to the attendees. They all stood as one as you made the first step to the rest of your life. Ushijima was waiting at the altar in his finest suit, military medals included. You knew he was an attractive man, but it seemed as if he had grown even more impossibly good-looking since the last time you had seen him.

The closer you got to him, the faster and faster your thoughts seemed to swirl in your head. Breathe, Yn, breath. It’s just your wedding, no big deal. After what felt like millenia, you finally reached the altar, your father taking your hand and placing it into Ushijima’s. Once you were at Ushijima’s side, you handed off your bouquet to Saeko so that you would be able to hold the candle used in the ceremony. Your father, as well as your bridesmaids and Ushijima’s groomsmen, took their seats. The officiant began the customary welcome and introductory speech, after which you and Ushijima would say your vows.

“Friends and family of King Ushijima and Princess Yn, today we are gathered to join these two hearts as one in marriage. As they promise to love, trust in that love, honor one another as individuals, and anticipate with joy spending the rest of their lives together.” The officiant nodded at Ushijima as a signal to begin the vows. He held up his right hand, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” He raised his own candle to the lit one at the center of the altar, “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.” He lifted his other hand with the ring between his fingers, “With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” He placed the candle down and took your hand in his to place the ring on your finger. Just looking at it you knew he must’ve discussed with your mother what ring you would like best. It was gorgeous and fit your taste perfectly.

With Ushijima’s vows over, it was your turn. You took a breath to steady your nerves before speaking, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” When you took his hand, he gave yours a small squeeze of reassurance, which was all you needed to slip the ring onto his finger.

You both turned to the officiant who began the climax of the ceremony. “King Ushijima, do you take Princess Yn as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Princess Yn, do you take King Ushijima as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

The officiant smiled broadly at the two of you, “I now declare you husband and wife!” He turned his gaze to Ushijima, “You may now kiss the bride.”

You both faced each other, and he took your hands in his before leaning down to gently place his lips on yours. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, and the way they molded to yours felt oh-so right. He pulled away from the chaste kiss all too soon and gave you a smile. An actual smile from ear to ear. And suddenly he didn’t look like the king of Shiratorizawa, nor the cold-hearted soldier he was said to be; he looked like Ushijima Wakatoshi, your new husband.

Next ->

king's bargain taglist: @chixkadee @wilby0-0 @animeshipper5112 @clairethereader @ushisrever @feiwelinchen @coldlamaspersonspy @uwukris @ushiwaka-11 @ihavewhiplashbecauseofnct @spinalhoney @ebiharachan @cinnamonlattae @buttercupp-baby @sabrinakishi @hannas16

[anonquack]

| His Merch |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 4256

Warnings: None, just some curse words. Fluff :]

Summary: Being such good friends with Quackity leads to the inevitable; catching feelings. In fear of ruining your friendship with him, you kept quiet about your feelings. Although usually good at that, after a merch drop and a slip-up on stream, you prepare yourself for the worst. Queue the incoming call from Quackity himself.

Today had been a productive day, in your opinion. You'd woken up earlier than usual, ate breakfast, cleaned around your apartment, and managed to get started on editing a video you'd recently filmed.

That's why you considered yourself very deserving of sitting down and enjoying your friend's stream as you ate some snacks.

Quackity had a fun stream planned, and had hyped up a 'big announcement' on Twitter, and the whole timeline was already speculating what it could be as they awaited for Quackity to start stream.

Being his friend had some perks though, contrary to popular belief. He'd discussed with you what the big announcement was as you sat on call with him a few nights prior to the big day. It was merch, and according to your past experience with Planet Duck products, it was sure to be soft and super comfy. You were very much looking forward to getting your hands on some of his new merch.

He'd brought up sending some to you, one of the previously mentioned perks of being his friend, but you politely declined. Much to his surprise. He'd asked why and you'd simply stated that "It was fine," and perhaps it came off as a bit rude. A 'no thanks' to his merch that you hadn't even seen.

But you had plans of your own, you wanted to acquire said merch on your own, and support him financially in the process. He didn't have to know that though, so with a small 'Oh' from him as his response, you swiftly changed topic of conversation.

Now here you sat, watching the stream as Quackity explained what he'd be doing with his friend John Smith. Riding go-karts around what looked like a storage unit. You couldn't help but worry as you watched them zoom around, occasionally getting close to crashing, and eventually doing just that.

The stream itself was rather fun to watch, but you kept your debit card beside you. This was in case he decided to drop the merch announcement out of nowhere. And that was exactly what he did. Another perk of being his friend was you grew a 6th sense for these type of things. Always had a feeling for what was about to happen when it came to Quackity.

You watched as the chat freaked out, watched as the notification from Planet Duck went out, notifying everybody that the merch had been released. You quickly typed into your computer, and the internet seemed to be taking its time to redirect you to Quackity's merch site.

After some time, it finally loaded and you began to look at all the options. The merch was wonderful, Quackity had been hyping it up to you (you'd asked for no reveals, wanting to wait like everyone else) and he had been absolutely right.

Most of the designs were new, except for the iconic Planet Duck logo, and were all very cute. You had Quackity's stream playing in the background as you maneuvered your way around the site, finally deciding on which merch you'd be buying.

As you went to purchase, a red sign alerted you that there was no shipping to your location. To which you quickly raised an eyebrow, panic starting to rush through you. Maybe you should've accepted his offer.

After refreshing multiple times and watching the Twitter timeline freak out as well over the inability to ship to several locations, it finally seemed to work, and the payment finally went through. A big "Thank you for your purchase" appearing onto the screen.

You let out a sigh of relief, clicking back onto the tab where the stream was, a small smile on your face. You'd actually managed to get it on your own. It was nerve-racking, when it seemed like you wouldn't be able to get the shipping to work, when it seemed like it'd sell out before you had the chance to buy some.

Now you finally understood what it felt like, the stress of getting your hands on merch before it sold out. It'd been an exhilerating experience.

You relaxed into your seat as Quackity's laugh filled the room. He was recreating bits from Fast and Furious, and zooming all over the place. You watched with a fond smile as he drove around, throwing random Spanish profanities at John Smith here and there.

The funky heart glasses he had on did nothing to ease the warmth that was spreading through your chest at the sight of him. You were suffering due to your confusing feelings towards your close friend, but nobody knew, or at least that is what you told yourself.

You tried to focus on something else, something that wasn't solely him. The go-karts were going pretty fast, and you remembered the scene they were recreating from the movie. Whichever random thought came to mind, you'd focus on it instead, too scared to let your thoughts wander elsewhere.

When it came to and end, you were conflicted. You were glad your heart would be able to catch a break, but you also missed him almost immediately. Sickening, really.

You took some time to reflect on what you'd done so far. Cleaned, ate your meals, worked on some editing, got some Quackity merch, and enjoyed a fun stream. It was rather productive, to say the least.

But there was still some time left in the day, and you figured you'd put the energy coursing through your body to use.

Taking a seat at your desk, you turned your monitor on before opening the twitch app. An alt stream would be perfect right now. After going live and sending out a tweet letting your followers know you were live, you patiently waited for the viewers to start coming in.

Considering this was an alt stream, you figured you'd play some random game and just chat for a bit before heading to bed. As the viewers came in, you gave your greetings before opening a tab for roblox, getting on a random server to play an obby game as you talked to chat.

There was a content smile on your face as you asked chat how their day had been, how they were feeling, your little character jumping around and passing through the beginner levels on the obby game.

"I'm actually in a really good mood, chat. My day has been going so well." You began, glancing at chat here and there, smile growing at the memory of the adventures acquiring Quackity merch.

After the chat was flooded with questions asking about what had happened, you indulged. "I was watching Quackity's stream earlier today, and it was so much fun!" The smile grew before softening as you focused on the obby. "I was also able to get some of his new merch."

The chat erupted into bits of 'friends supporting friends' to 'y/n in quackity merch???' and people yelling that they had been or weren't able to get merch.

Seeing the chat made you laugh, nodding your head a bit. "No because I was so nervous I wouldn't be able to get some-" you admitted, attention now focused solely on telling the viewers about your own experience.

"I was trying to purchase, and there was a line, and then it said it wouldn't ship to my location?? I was so worried I wouldn't be able to get some. But it finally worked. I'm excited for it to get here." You finished your small rant, a content smile on your lips.

Chat consisted of people agreeing with the technical difficulties occurring at the time of the merch drop, others saying they were too broke to buy anything. It felt nice, to see something from their perspective and also have shared an experience like this.

"Big Q actually offered to send me some, but I told him no because I wanted to get it myself.. Wanted to get it fair and square." You said as you refocused on the obby in front of you, fond smile on your face as you thought about how nice he was. He was willing to send all of his friends some of his merch, free of cost.

"Also wanted to give him my support by actually purchasing it, you know?" You added, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as it leaned against your desk. You took this time to read chat, which was exploding with what you thought was a combination of Quackity's username with yours, and 'bffs ur honor!!'.

You smiled at that, hands finally moving your character around. "Really, he has been such an amazing friend, extremely welcoming, always fun to be around. And just.. life is never dull when he's around. He's always been there for me when I needed it and well‐" A pause. "I'm glad I was able to support him in some way." You hummed softly as you finished up yet another small rant about Quackity.

At the realization that you'd been talking about him for far too long, and that he was not meant to be the focus of your alt stream, you cleared your throat and began focusing on the obby game once again.

You shifted the topic of conversation to the video you'd also been editing today, and that quickly took everyone's attention away from how affectionately and fondly you'd been speaking of your dear friend. Everyone was now excited about the new video.

Seeing how easily the chat's focus changed made you ease up a bit, and you were able to enjoy the rest of your stream playing random roblox games and discussing some stuff with chat. It lasted for a bit longer before you finally decided to end stream.

Some goodbyes and after stream officially ended, you found yourself on Twitter. Everything seemed pretty peaceful on the timeline, up until the trending page came up.

Your name was trending, along with 'QUACKITY IN CHAT' and the infamous combination of usernames. A monstrosity, really.

You heard yourself audibly gulp as you clicked on the trending topic 'quackity in chat'. Much to your dismay it was true. There was screenshots that showed Quackity was watching your stream. That meant that he'd heard you talking about him in that sickening tone. That tone that was unnecessarily sweet and fond.

You didn't know who was freaking out more, the so-called shippers, the timeline, or yourself. You gently bit at the inside of your cheek, scrolling and reading all the tweets of people trying to guess how Quackity must've felt while hearing all that. Others raising an eyebrow at how long you'd gone on about Quackity and how 'perfect' he was.

You'd fucked up, that was for sure, and it wasn't even intentional or fan service of any kind. It was an alt stream, it wasn't planned in any way, shape, or form. He'd been brought up, and you'd accidentally spilled all fond thoughts you held of him.

Your cursor hovered over a specific tweet that read, 'want someone to talk about me the way y/n talks about big q'. It was sweet, and perhaps made you smile just a little bit.

As you read it over in your head, a notification popped up on your screen, the discord notification ringing in your ears as you read who the message was from. Quackity.

You messed around with your mouse for a bit before finally closing the Twitter tab, and instead opting to open the unread message.

Quackity

hey (:

You stared at it for a bit, blinking in disbelief at how normal the message came across. Perhaps he'd tuned in during the last half of the stream. Perhaps he hadn't been able to watch while you rambled about him, and perhaps he hadn't been on Twitter either. One could hope.

y/n hi (:

It showed that he was typing almost immediately after, and you tried your best to calm your nerves.

Quackity call?

You felt yourself tense at the message. Maybe he wanted to let you down kindly. 'Hey! Saw your stream, and I just wanted to ask if you could chill the fuck out. That was kind of creepy. Maybe never speak of me ever again. Do not perceive me any longer, thanks!'

Something along those lines for sure. That's what probably awaited you if you said yes to this. But what exactly were you supposed to do instead?

y/n ofc

It only took a few seconds for the call to come through. Stalling wouldn't help, so you answered by the third ring.

He greeted you, and everything seemed normal. The calls were normal between you two, but you were just on edge due to twitter trending and the stream that took place less than an hour ago.

"How are you feeling, Quackity?" You asked with a small smile, today was a big day for him, and you were sure he'd enjoy talking about how fast the merch sold.

"I'm doing great. Really happy that the fans liked the designs and just.. we sold a lot. I'm happy." He restated the last bit, the smile was obvious in his voice. You didn't have to be seeing it to know. Another perk of being so close to him. You had a clear visual image of what he probably looked like right now. Cute smile plastered onto his equally cute face.

"I'm really happy for you, Big Q. You deserve all the success that is coming your way and more." You hummed softly. Everything you were saying, you meant wholeheartedly. There was silence for a bit before he finally spoke again.

"I watched your stream."

Fuck. There it was. You should've expected it but it still hit like a ton of bricks. You felt your mouth turn dry, could barely manage to get out the word, "Yeah?"

"Mhm." Straight to the point. There was a bit of silence, you were unsure of what to say. Why had he brought it up? It was bound to happen, but what was the reason behind bringing it up? To tease you, let you know he wasn't interested, or because roblox obbies are just so much fun?

"You didn't have to buy it, you know?" He finally said, breaking the silence.

"I wanted to." You reassured, "the merch is really pretty. Worth every penny."

"I could've sent you whichever you wanted." He stated bluntly. As if it was weird of you to have gone and bought it on your own.

"Thank you, but I wanted to buy it myself. Let me? Please?" Let me show my support this way, is what you meant to say. It came out softer than intended, and you could feel your heart beating against your ribs. You really needed to watch your tone around him.

"Of course." He responded, just as softly. He'd drive you crazy one of these days. They'd have to lock you up, and you'd never see the light of day again.

"Did you have fun riding the go-karts?" You asked, a small smile on your lips as you wandered back onto the Twitter tab, a clip of his stream now on display on the timeline.

He let out a small laugh, "I did. Did you enjoy watching it?" You nodded before responding, "Of course. Was concerning watching you crash into walls though."

He hummed softly in response, possibly contemplating what to say with how long he took before he spoke again.

"Did you really mean all the things you said on stream?"

Somehow, even with your own attempts to change topic, the focus was back on your stream and the things that had been said. You wouldn't be able to dig yourself out of the hole you'd dug.

It was entirely your fault, for even allowing yourself to consider him as anything but a great friend. It was your fault for taking the late night calls, the sweet tones, and messages the wrong way. Your interpretations were all wrong and now you'd have to sit here and apologize for practically outing yourself on stream. For letting the whole world know that you had romantic feelings for a good friend of yours. You'd probably made him so uncomfortable.

You felt yourself cringe slightly at his words, already gone quiet for far too long. You had to speak up, even if it lead to a good friendship ending a few minutes from now.

"Of course I did. You're great, Alex." The use of his name was meant to assure him you meant it wholeheartedly. It made the moment feel more intimate, too. Much to your own dismay, yet again. You couldn't help it.

The possibility that your friendship with him could come to an end real soon made you act on your feelings. It left you unhinged. If it was all going to end here, maybe you'd allow yourself to act on impulse. End it with a bang.

"Thank you, really. I know I probably wasn't meant to hear all that, but it was really nice. Made me feel nice as well. And just, seeing that you didn't accept the merch from me because you wanted to support me directly.. thank you."

His voice was soft, felt like warm honey to your taste buds. You could almost hear your heart melting inside your chest, could feel it dripping down and touching your diaphragm, oozing into every single crevice in your body. You'd never understand how he had such effects on you. How he was able to make you so fond of him.

"I meant every single word. You deserve that and so much more." You reassured yet again, a small smile on your lips. You heard him let out a small chuckle, which made you laugh as well.

Moments later, he had turned his camera on, wanting to show you all the merch. You'd asked for him to put it on, since you were a 'visual learner' and had to see it on him in order to fully understand what it looked like. He had playfully rolled his eyes, but hadn't really argued against it.

So there you were, watching as he changed from hoodie to hoodie, moving out of frame to change into the shirts. You could feel your heart thumping harshly against your rib cage at the sight of him. Some looked bigger on him, some looked just right. They all looked wonderful, and super comfy. Perhaps that was simply because they were on him, and he looked so comfy.

He looked like he could give the best hugs.

"You really think so?" His voice came out a bit sheepish, and the light pink that dusted his cheeks was becoming more and more evident. Huh?

"What?" You said, a dumb look on your face as you tried connecting the dots.

"That I could give the best hugs." He stated slowly, as if he was testing how it sounded before adding, "Do you really think that?"

Had you really said that out loud? Fuck. It took acting on impulse to a whole other level. This wasn't something you two usually did, but I guess it was okay since everything might be ending soon. Ballsy moves.

"Yeah. You make the merch look so cozy." Your throat felt dry, eyes glued to his face, wanting to catch every single second of his reaction. Wanting to see each movement of his facial muscles, to find out what it could possibly entail. "Makes me wonder what your hugs feel like." You admitted.

Your eyes scanned the entirety of his face, perking up slightly at the sight of his face flushing, leaving him with the softest tint of pink to spread across his cheeks, almost matching his pretty lips. What the hell did that even mean?

"Maybe you won't have to wonder for too long. With guidelines being lifted and all." The line. Blurred at that very moment, for sure. His eyes were glued to you as well, which only made you hesitate every single movement you could think of doing at that moment.

"And in the meantime? What am I supposed to do?" Risky. Crossing lines, jumping over hurdles. This all had to be against friend rules or something. You could feel your sanity decreasing each second this call went on. But he wasn't stopping any of this either.

"I could send you a hoodie." The sentence brought you out of your Quackity-induced haze, making you quickly shake your head. What? Before you could protest or ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he explained.

"My hoodie. Y'know. Mine. One I wear. You can give it back when we meet up, perhaps."

Your mouth went dry again, shocked at the domestic feeling it gave. He was suggesting he send one of his hoodies. It would smell like him. It was the closest thing to giving him an actual hug. It would be paradise.

"You'd really do that?" You asked, still in disbelief, but he quickly nodded his head. "Oh." You said softly, before a smile appeared on your face. "I would like that, then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll send it then." He hummed, smile spreading on his lips as well. Everything going on was making you feel dizzy. It felt so surreal.

You'd mentally prepared yourself for the worst, but instead were met with a flirtatious Quackity. He'd said sweet things to you before, but you never allowed yourself to take it seriously, not wanting to get your hopes up. And it never went to this extent.

It seemed he realized what just went down, a loud laugh escaping his lips. "Holy shit. You're gonna have one of my hoodies soon."

"I am." You chimed in, smile on your lips as well.

"And you'll wear it around." He added.

"I will."

"You'll look good, as always."

You could feel the heat rush to your face. What was going on? Was this real, or just a very cruel dream? Alex Quackity was fucking flirting with you.

"Are you flirting with me?" Bewildered tone, raised eyebrows. Your brain couldn't even begin to progress what was being said.

"What the fuck does it look like I've been doing?"

"Have you really?" Warmth spread across your chest at how blunt he was being. The line was gone. It'd been erased, never to be seen again. There was no shame in him. Admitting he was flirting with his whole chest.

"I have. Why are you so surprised though? I've subtly flirted with you before.. and I mean, were you not confessing your undying love to me on stream?" He raised a brow, feigned confusion on his face. He was teasing. You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands as he let out a laugh.

Surreal. He confessed to having flirted with you in the past. So you weren't delusional, nice to know. "Are you done?" You asked, face still covered by your hand in shame.

"I saw a tweet that was saying they felt like third wheels since I was in chat, and you were just going on about everything you liked about me." You kept your face covered. He was not stopping. Now he was the unhinged one.

He was visibly scrolling through the timeline at this point. "Oh, and one saying they want what we have. What do we have?"

You finally uncovered your face. "I don't know. Whatever the fuck this is, I guess?"

"Well, what is this?"

"Mm... whatever you want it to be." You finally answered, and there was a surprised look plastered on his face at that.

"Whatever I want?"

"Yeah." You paused. Would he regret this after he got out of this haze? What if it had just been flirting for fun? But he wouldn't play with your feelings like this, would he?

Alex Quackity was perfect though, and perhaps he had a sixth sense about when stuff was wrong with you, because he caught on to your hesitation.

"Hey." He called out softly. The teasing, flirtatious tone was gone, now replaced by the softer tone reserved for late night calls, or when everybody else in the vc had left and it was just you two.

You look at where his face was on your monitor, relaxing a bit simply by his tone and the soft gaze he held on you.

"I know everything sort of progressed pretty fast tonight.. but your stream really helped me realize a few things. I do like you, y/n. Not fucking around or anything." He said it in a firm tone, one that told you he wasn't messing around, but still felt oh so intimate.

Everything he was saying was exactly what you wanted and needed to hear. Reassurance that your feelings weren't unrequited. You couldn't believe your rambling on stream had lead you guys here.

"I like you, too. If that wasn't obvious already." You mumbled out, eyes averting before glancing to see his reaction. He had the biggest, cutest, grin on his face. Charming, and extremely contagious. You couldn't help but smile back.

Holy shit.

"Is this real?" You asked out loud, smile never leaving your face.

"It is. All thanks to your ranting on stream. How cool is that?"

You couldn't help but still feel rather embarrassed that he'd heard all of it, but it had brought you two here. All embarrassment was worth it. Especially if it meant it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for you two.

"Very cool." You mumbled, before a smile appeared on your lips. Today really couldn't have gone any better.

[lunar-wandering]

hey @winterpower98 guess what-

 here’s part 3

-

"You know, I'm starting to think maybe Monkey King is right about caves." MK said, leaning against Macaque's shoulder for support. "Thus far, we haven't had a really good track record with them."

"If you don't shut up right now I'm going to let you fall, injured leg be damned." Macaque said, shifting his hold to be able to support MK a little better as he wobbled.

Earlier in the day, the group of three had stumbled across a cave. MK had insisted on checking it out, but Wukong had outright refused to go in. After some arguing back and forth, Macaque had eventually given an irritated sigh, and grabbed MK's arm, marching into the cave and ignoring Wukong's yells for them to "be careful!".

...Of course, him ignoring Wukong's warning ended up resulting in karma rearing its head, causing a small cave in. Nothing really big, but enough to seal off the way back, and for a rock to hit MK in the leg, creating a long, bleeding, gash. Macaque had ended up sacrificing his scarf to bandage the injury, just to make sure MK didn't bleed out.

Which lead to where they were now, MK being supported by Macaque as they walked through the cave, with MK trying to make jokes, whether to lighten the mood or distract himself, Macaque wasn't sure. He was sure that there was another exit though, he could both feel and hear the wind blowing through the cavern, so all they had to do was just find it.

Which was... turning out to be a bit harder than it should've been.

Macaque suddenly stopped, MK swaying a little at the sudden lack of movement.

"What are you-"

"Shh. I hear something." Macaque said, tilting his head a little and flicking his ears, before turning, and slowly setting MK down so that he was sitting on the floor of the cave, his back against the wall. "...Stay here, I'll go check it out."

"No." MK said, grabbing hold of Macaque's wrist. "Don't. Don't leave me alone."

Macaque paused, glancing further into the cave, before looking back at MK. He took in the injured leg, the trembling tail, the way MK almost looked like he was about to start crying-

....Fuck, he'd gone soft.

"Okay, okay." Macaque said, kneeling down, "How about this."

He pressed his hand into MK's shadow, and pushed a bit of energy into it. Slowly, MK's shadow changed shape, morphing until it was exactly like Macaque's own shadow. Then, Macaque grasped onto it, and pulled.

A shadow clone popped out, it was only half formed, still a bit see through, but it was there. Macaque sighed as he stood back up, trying to not show just how much doing that had drained him. At least, since it was connected to MK's shadow, it wouldn't drain him of all his energy too quickly...

"There." Macaque said, "Now you're not alone. I'm going to look ahead, the clone will notify me if anything happens, okay?"

MK gave a little nod, and Macaque turned, and walked off into the darkness.

Leaving MK alone. ...With the shadow clone.

For a few minutes, MK was quiet. But....he was alone. In a cave. With an injured leg.

He needed something to distract himself with.

"So, uh, what do you think about Mon-" He started-

"Don't." The shadow clone interrupted, it's voice slightly warbled due to being half-formed. "Don't even think about it. I'm not like Wukong's clones, I'm not going to give away information so easily."

"....Oh. Sorry." MK said, disappointed, looking down at the ground.

"Ah, you didn't let me finish." The clone said, a sneaking grin on it's face. "I might be willing to talk, should you have something of equal interest to share...."

-

As it turned out, the sound Macaque had been hearing had been nothing but a small group of demons. Nothing a little bit of threatening and bluffing couldn't get rid off, so he chased them off, although not before he got one of them to tell him the way out.

Repeating the mental map of where he needed to go in his mind, he walked back to where he'd left MK and the clone.

...Only to hear a conversation he absolutely did not want to have happening.

"So, now that I've told you that...." MK's voice said, ".....What does Macaque think about Monkey King?"

Macaque froze, one foot ready to take the next step around the corner. He knew that he should rush around, dispel the clone, make sure that there was no answer, but for some reason he just. Couldn't seem to move.

"Oh, is that all you want to know?" The clone said, "Well, I think you already know the answer, he's still totally in lo-"

That seemed to be enough to break whatever was keeping Macaque still, as he rushed around the corner, kicking the shadow clone in the face as he dispelled it.

There was a moment of silence as MK and Macaque stared at each other. Then, MK smirked, before bursting into laughter. Macaque sighed, falling backwards and laying on the ground, staring at the roof of the cave, almost wishing the rocks would cave in on him right then and there.

"Wukong was right." He settled on saying, "Stupid clones really don't know how to shut up."

"Oh, so you overheard that conversation?" MK asked, "Well, that makes this a lot easier!"

"No it doesn't." Macaque hissed.

"Why not? You love him, you know he loves you back, you two talk about it, and then you get together, boom, easy!" MK explained, moving his arms around and making sound effects to accompany his point.

"Kid, clearly you have never experienced a real relationship." Macaque said, sitting back up to look at MK with the most disapproving face he could muster.

"But I've watched shows!" MK said, "I write fanfiction- I know how this kind of stuff plays out."

"Fan-what???"

MK paused for a moment.

"....I'll explain that to you later, right now, we're discussing your love life." He said, and Macaque groaned, flopping back onto the ground dramatically.

"I really rather we'd not-"

"Oh, but we will." MK said, smirking. "You, know, in retrospect, I really should've caught on the moment you described you and the Monkey King as being like the 'sun and moon', like, that's the gayest thing I've ever heard-"

"Shut up." Macaque hissed, using his hands to cover his face. "Gods, I thought I was over this-"

"But you're not." MK said, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Repress all of it until it goes away." Was Macaque's immediate response. MK used his good leg to kick Macaque in the side.

"Wrong answer." He said, ignoring how Macaque glared at him. "You're going to talk things out with Monkey King."

"Absolutely not." Macaque said, fur bristling. "That- that has 'terrible, no good idea' written all over it."

"Why are you so resistant to this?" MK asked, "What, are you scared?"

...He didn't get an answer.

"Oh my gods, you are scared."

"I am not." Macaque said, but considering he was very obviously avoiding looking MK in the eyes, he wasn't being very convincing.

"I mean, it's not like I can blame you-" MK said, "I mean, I've heard the stories and man, that's one hell of a breakup, but like, things are different now-"

"I'm not talking to him about this, and that's final." Macaque said, standing up in one fluid motion, clearly signalling that he was done with this conversation. Without even giving a bit of warning, he pulled MK up, throwing an arm around him to keep him steady. "C'mon, let's get out of this stupid cave already. I'm sure Peaches is having a heart attack over how long we're taking."

"Oh my gods you even call him Peaches that's so gay-"

"Shut the fuck up."

[badassbuchanan]

After Hours

Plot: Ransom always gets his way, even if that means taking what he wants without asking. 

Warnings: smut; non!con, unprotected sex, quickie.

Word count: 1728

A/N: I got very distracted writing my Bucky smut because of this sexy asshole - REQUESTS AND TAG LIST IS OPEN

My clenched fist knocked on the heavy door, only slightly making a sound. It had been a long day at work, but when Ransom requested a meeting with me, it had instantly lifted my mood, even if he had requested the meeting an hour after everyone finished work.

Ransom was the newly appointed manager of Blood Like Wine Publishing, after the retirement of his grandfather and owner of the company, Harlan Thrombey.

Harlan had, to everyone’s surprise, chosen to hand the company over to his wild, rebellious grandson. It had caused a lot of upset within the family after Harlan had announced to the public that Ransom would be taking ownership. “It’s time for Ransom to add a refreshing touch to the family business.” Harlan had told the press at the grand re-opening.

Ransom had been targeted by the media as a wreckless, selfish party animal who slept with whoever he set his eyes on.

I hadn’t seen a lot of Ransom over the duration of the few weeks he’d been here, no one had. He spent most of his time in his office, his head buried in reviewing drafts, determined to prove to everyone that he was the leader the company needed.

“Come in.” His voice called out as I opened the wooden door slowly, immediately noticing Ransom’s intimidating figure standing behind his desk.

The beige knitted sweater he wore hugged his body nicely, he’d never made the change to dress corporately and encouraged us all to dress as we pleased, although I’d chosen to stick with Harlen’s preference of ‘office attire’. He let out a sigh, concentrating on the papers in front of him as he ran his hand with his signet ring through his tossled hair.

“You asked to see me, Sir?” My voice came out as a squeak, walking cautiously towards his desk after shutting the door behind me. The room was silent, which only made me more aware of the sound of my heels against the wooden floor boards.

“Yeah,” His alarming tone notified me that he had been far too preoccupied to notice who had entered his office and most likely forgot our scheduled appointment. “Come over here.”

His natural dominance had my panties glistening, along with the fact that Ransom just happened to be the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

His blue eyes shone like diamonds, even in the darkness. His lips were pouty, yet gave him a smile like a naughty school boy. The crease between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he concentrated. His thick thighs that sat tight against the dark denim of his jeans. And most importantly, his big, dangerous hands.

I adjusted the bottom of my skirt that sat just above mid-thigh as I walked over to his desk. Noticing the way his hand held a sheet of paper up for him to observe.

There was a record player in the corner of the room that sat next to the window, evidently the item had been either left there by Harlan or something Ransom had purchased to make him look more distinguished, purely for decoration purposes only.

I stopped when I reached his desk, watching him intently as he grabbed his glass of whiskey from beside him, taking a large sip.

Our interactions had always been professional and yet somehow flirtatious at the same time. Simple things like him complimenting my work whilst I mentioned his great style somehow made us feel so electric.

“This side.” Ransom glanced up at me momentarily, his voice was soft, but still made me want to obey any request he sent my way.

I did as I was told, walking around to his side of the desk, standing to look at the papers in front of us as he adjusted himself to stand behind my body.

I could feel the tension begin to build as soon as he came closer. I tried to avoid the way it made me feel to have him so close. Someone so powerful. So in control. So fucking handsome.

“See this?” Ransom asked deeply from behind me, pointing to a document scattered on his mahogany desk. I could feel his crotch against my ass as I rubbed against him testingly.

I leaned over slightly to take a better look at the document, catching Ransom out of the corner of my eye put his whiskey glass down beside us.

That’s when I felt his hand slide up the inside of my bare thigh, bringing my skirt up with it until he reached my panties. I bit my lip, ignoring his action as I nodded, reading over the paper in my hands.

“I need you to review the highlighted paragraphs for me.” He requested as his fingers hooked into the crotch of my panties. My breath came out shaky as a blush covered my cheeks, knowing he’d be able to feel the leaking wetness.

“When do you need it done by?” I asked calmly, hearing the sound of a zipper behind me. I carefully anticipated his next move, having no objection to where this was headed.

“Next Friday,” He responded, slowly pulling my panties down my legs, my ass now on full display for him from where he’d bunched my skirt up around my hips. “That’ll give me time to prepare before the presentation.”

With his last words he pushed his cock inside of me without warning, filling me up. It was a tight push considering my legs were still almost fully shut. But feeling my tightness around him only made Ransom more eager.

He stilled when he was fully sheathed inside of me, his body pressed tightly against my back as I closed in eyes in ecstasy. My breathing shallowed as my pussy drenched his cock that was twitching inside of me.

It was a painful stretch, but one that I welcomed. My mouth hung open slightly as an ache shot through my pussy. I couldn’t help but wiggle my hips open slightly to allow him more access.

Ransom groaned so softly that I almost missed it, his ring clad hand digging into my hips as he made a slow move of pulling out until it was just his tip in me.

I licked my lips and leaned forward slightly towards the desk, arching my back. Ransom then slowly began moving back in me, stopping momentarily when he was inside me before repeating the action.

He moved at a painfully slow speed, but he was too invested in watching where his cock disappeared inside of me. His eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared with arousal, his jaw clenched.

I bit my lip, trying not to break the silence that filled the room, with the exception of my wetness. I couldn’t believe how aroused he had me just from his cock being inside of me.

Ransom continued at his agonising pace, letting out small grunts every time he bottomed out inside of me. I could feel his cock twitch inside of me, his balls tapping against me slightly with every thrust.

Ransom’s breath was hot on my neck as his hands wrapped around my body, hugging my ass against his cock. There was a sharp pain in my core, his cock deep inside me as he began thrusting faster, our hips moving in sync as he pounded me against his desk.

I clenched around him, my orgasm hitting me by surprise. I let out slight cries, trying to stay quiet as my clit rubbed against the wooden desk. Ransom’s hand laid flat on my stomach, pushing me back against him harder as he spurted his cum deep inside of me with a final moan.

His breathing quickened, his hands squeezing my hips as I expectantly waited for him to pull out, but he didn’t. He stayed burried deep inside of me. I whimpered softly, feeling so sensitive as he tried to catch his breath.

I leaned back against him more, his chest firmly against my back as I took advantage at the feeling of his warm cock inside me.

When he did finally pulled out, I sighed, feeling empty. I pulled my panties back up my legs, hearing him zip his pants back up. I adjusted my skirt, tugging it back to its usual position before scrambling to grab the papers we’d earlier discussed.

“I’ll have these on your desk by next Friday, as requested, Mr Drysdale.” I said slightly uncomfortable with the fact that Ransom hadn’t said a word.

“Y/N,” Ransom called out to me as I reached the door, causing me to turn around and notice how fucked out he looked. “Call me Ransom, yeah?”

——————— a few days later ————————

“Wait what?” Y/F/N almost completely brought the car to a standstill on the busy road. Her head whizzed around to give me a wide eyed, baffled look after I’d just told her my boss fucked me.

“He just kind of, put it in?” I tried to recall the exact circumstances which lead to the situation, all of which made sense at the time but now seemed to escape me.

“Without mentioning it? Without talking?” She shook her head, baffled by the situation I’d found myself in.

“No, of course we were talking. Just..not about fucking.” I squinted, knowing none of what I was saying sounded logical out loud.

“How the f-“

“I don’t know!” I whined in confusion, covering my face with my hands as I slouch back into the car seat. “You just had to have been there I guess.”

“Please don’t tell me you let him cum inside you.” She says with reservations, knowing me too well.

My silence said it all. “For fuck sake, Y/N! What if you get pregnant?”

“I don’t know!” I whined loudly, my mind whirling with possible scenarios. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Y/F/N chuckled as she drove, shaking her head. “So have you spoken to him since?”

“No, I’ve obviously seen him around, but we haven’t talked about what happened.” I admitted shyly, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like an idiot who’d been used by her boss.

“Well, I don’t think that’ll last forever.” She said matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrows.

She was right. It wouldn’t last forever. I’d eventually have to face the repercussions of my, well our actions. I’d eventually have to come face to face with Ransom. After all, he was my boss.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

[galactic-magick]

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira​ @midnight-lestrange​ @thestrangeundoing​ @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella​ @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph​ @thelanawinterrs @sunproud​ (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

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-

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

 -

 That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

 -

 It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

 -

 Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

 APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

 “I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

[harryhandstan]

or the one where you forget harry’s birthday and try desperately to make it up to him

just wanted to write something small to try to get back into writing after my break! thank you all for your encouragement, excitement, and patience and I apologize for it being a few days later than I wanted it to be! this is probably the closest to angst that you’ll ever get from me :)

thank you to @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @tbslenthusiast, @bigspoonstyles​, @angryinternetduck, and @iconicharry for letting me run my ideas by you and being so kind in general. more thanks to @tbslenthusiast and @bigspoonstyles for being the most wonderful beta readers and just lovely friends overall!

this is another part of my dad!harry series so as always they are linked in order if you want to re-visit them or read from the beginning if you choose to!

⭐ I Want Your Belly ⭐ Wonderful and Warm ⭐ Washed Away in You ⭐ Do You Want to Build a Snowman? ⭐ A Styles Family Christmas ⭐

word count: 3.6k

“Harry, I’m running late do you think you could drop Sterling off at the sitter’s on your way to set?”

You’re already dressed, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your bag and keys from where they were tossed next to the dresser from the evening before. You dart into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth.

Harry pokes his head around the doorframe, a wrinkled shirt in his hand, rushing through his own morning routine, “Thought she was coming here?”

“She can’t today, remember? Today’s our day to drop him off.” You put your toothbrush away just as he joins you, taking the toothpaste from your hand to use for himself.

“Alright, yeah. Y’ll have to pick him up later though, think it’ll be a late one for me today.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll throw his bag together and leave it by the door for you to grab on the way out. He’s already been fed and changed so he should be all set. I’ll transfer his car seat to your car too, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

He still has the toothbrush in his mouth, so you stand on your tiptoes to give him a peck to the cheek, adding a “bye, love you!” on your way out the bathroom door.

“Wait..y’don’t have anything else to say to me before you leave?” His mouth now rinsed, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, a tired smile working its way across his lips.

“Um..be careful? Don’t drive too fast with Sterling in the car.” 

“I never drive fast,” He takes a quick peek in the mirror, running his hands through his messy curls before turning back to you, “S’that all? Nothing else to say?”

You search your brain, trying to remember anything else you may have forgotten, “Oh! Right..”

His face lights up then, thinking maybe he was gonna finally hear the words he’d been waiting all morning to hear from you.  

“Make sure you tell the sitter there’s an extra pacifier in the right side of his bag that she can leave there in his cubby in case we ever forget one..and that I’ll drop a pack of diapers and wipes off when I pick him up cause I know he’s running low.”

His brow furrows slightly with disappointment, but you’re too busy to notice, blowing him another kiss before rushing out the door of your shared bedroom and down the hall to get Sterling’s bag ready.

He’s still pouting as he opens his top drawer to select a pair of socks for the day.

He couldn’t believe you forgot it was his birthday.

In your opinion, 6 weeks was not long enough for maternity leave. You’re sure no amount of time in your happy bubble with Harry and Sterling would’ve been enough. 

You were somehow able to push those 6 weeks to 12, your boss kindly agreeing to let you do what work you could from home. Eventually, that extension had to come to an end though and there was no other way you could avoid returning to ‘normal’ life.

You’re an hour into your work day but you still can’t shake the feeling that you had truly forgotten something. Harry’s words from the morning ring through your head again and again but you still couldn’t pinpoint what was special about this particular day. It was a Monday..was there some sort of significant anniversary from your relationship over the years, something small but important to him? 

You grab your phone when you have a chance, a quick lull in your morning that allows you to scroll through your phone’s calendar to double check anything your phone may have not yet notified you about. There’s nothing saved, and it does nothing to jog your memory of what importance today’s date holds. 

A text from Anne comes through and your heart stops when you read the message: Tell the birthday boy his present from me is on the way! I was a day later than I should’ve been sending it out so hope he won’t be too upset with me. All my love to you and Sterling as well!

No. Oh no. Guilt bubbles up through your chest and you cover your mouth to stop from cursing too loudly and scaring your nearby coworkers. You have to steady your hand so you can navigate your way through your contacts to Harry’s number, trying to calculate where in his schedule for the day he may be now. It was too early for him to be taking a lunch break, but you silently prayed he would be on a break in between filming scenes that would allow him to answer.

He had told you in the past that even if he wasn’t able to have his phone with him, it was always nearby. Especially now that you had Sterling, he tried to make himself available no matter how busy his schedule would be for the day. Even if he wasn’t able to answer, he would always make time to call back. 

So when you try 2 times with no success of getting through, you stop. You had both agreed before that 3 calls was your distress signal, and you didn’t want his mind to think the worst when he did see you’d tried to get through to him. A text seems too informal, too little for the man you love and adore. He deserved better than that, better than you, a partner who forgot one of the most important days where he should be made to feel special and loved every second.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this day was coming, you did, of course you did. Being a new parent had well and truly ruined your memory. Turns out birthing a tiny human requires learning a ton of new information to keep your little one alive, meaning that even almost 3 months later your brain hadn’t been fully restored and you weren’t sure if it ever would be. 

How could you make up for something like this? You suppose you could pretend that it was all a joke; that you’d had this elaborate plan all along to surprise him and make him think that you had forgotten his birthday. But you couldn’t lie to him like that, it would only cause you to hate yourself even more later for covering it up. Plus, Harry knew you too well and would see right through that, and then whatever hurt you’re sure he was feeling now would only grow. 

You know he would eventually forgive you, if he hadn’t already, but that didn’t stop guilt from overriding your thoughts. If anything it made you feel almost worse knowing that he would be so incredibly forgiving.

God, you could only imagine the reaction of the fans if they found out. Some of them already had some questionable opinions about you, a few even going so far as to speculate if Sterling was truly Harry’s child, claiming that you had somehow “trapped” Harry into a relationship with you and that it would eventually fail. Harry had tried to ban you from going too deep, but sometimes your curiosity got the best of you, prompting you to scroll through Twitter or Instagram occasionally. It usually ended with you getting your feelings hurt and Harry having to remind you once again to stay away.

You try to find something in your memory, anything that he may have mentioned wanting (or at this point even needing) over the past few months. Aside from the mundane, everyday things like laundry detergent and shampoo to add to the shopping list, you couldn’t recall a thing. You only had 6 hours before you had to pick up Sterling, so you had to come up with something fast, something amazing.

What do you get for the golden boy who has everything?

You couldn’t believe you didn’t think of it before. It was something you had discovered not long after Sterling’s birth, but like many other things it had gotten easily dismissed and pushed down to the bottom of your list. 

Today, it only takes a few clicks through the website, a double checking of the spelling of the name that will be on the certificate, and a quick selection of a location for where you want it to be for Harry to now be the (hopefully) proud owner of his very own star in the sky.

After all it was Harry who found the name Sterling for your child, it was him who whispered “buonanotte nostra piccola stella” each night as he helped you put Sterling to bed; a phrase he had been most pleased with himself for learning, the Italian to English translation being “goodnight our little star”. If he couldn’t be there to say it, he made sure you knew the proper enunciation of the expression so that you could pass it along from him. It was always followed by 3 kisses to the top of his son’s head.

Thankfully, you were able to use the printer at work to print out the certificate and the map, slipping them both into a manilla envelope and tucking it away in your bag before you clock out for the day. Though you wished you had time to stop and select a nice frame, you only have 30 minutes before having to pick up Sterling, so you opt for a speedy trip to the nearest bakery and grocery store to gather what other supplies you’ll need for the rest of the evening.

By the time you and Sterling make it home, you still haven’t heard anything from Harry. You send up another silent prayer, more for his safety than anything, but also selfishly for yourself and his forgiveness towards you. It wasn’t unusual for you to not hear from him most days, and you remind yourself of his words from that morning about most likely having to work late. 

You push away the guilt that threatens to invade your thoughts again, doing what you need to do for Sterling to keep him content while you start preparations for dinner. Once you have him settled in his swing nearby, you take a moment to scroll through your music selection on your phone, deciding that having something playing in the background would be better than being alone with your thoughts while you work. 

You’ve just washed the veggies to chop for the salad when your phone dings, indicating a new message. You know it’s from Harry, and you’re almost scared to look. Instant relief floods your body when you do have the courage to take a peek: Home in an hour. Love you! Give bub kisses from me xx

The “love you” fills you with overwhelming comfort; takes you back to the day you first met him and how your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was you he was trailing through the crowd of people to approach, a cozy smile plastered on his face. You’ll never forget the gentle way he had spoken and how even though you were surrounded by at least a hundred other people at the party, he didn’t take his eyes off you the whole night. You let out a huge sigh of breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in and contemplate the best way to respond, finally concluding that simple was better.

Be careful, baby. Love you more!! Bubs and I miss you

His text gives you more motivation than you already had to power through making his favorite meal for him. An hour is plenty of time to get everything done, so when Sterling gets fussy and wants to be held, you tuck him against your side, doing what you can with one hand while keeping a tight grip on your son. You know he had missed you when he almost instantly relaxes at being close to you, and your heart hurts at the thought of ever being away from him again, even for something important like your job.

It still takes you a minute to get him calm enough to rest his head on your shoulder, so you don’t hear the sound of the door, or the clink of Harry’s keys or the sound of his footsteps falling down the hallway.

“Need some help, lovie?”

His voice, which normally calms you, nearly makes you jump out of your skin. So when you turn and say, “I thought you said an hour!” it comes out more like an attack than grateful to see him again.

“S’what I thought but we rushed through so I could leave earlier. Is that a problem?” His face is unreadable, somewhere between confused and disappointed with your tone.

“No! Of course not, Harry, I just..” That’s when your voice breaks, your guilt and emotions of forgetting his birthday finally being too much to hold back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” He’s moving the rest of the way through the kitchen to you, a hand smoothing a small circle over your back as you try to wipe your tears, “Please don’t cry.”

“I just wanted to have everything ready by the time you got home, to make up for this morning. For forgetting it was your birthday in the first place. I’m so sorry, H.” 

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, angel. You don’t have to make anything up to me. We’ve both been crazy busy lately, I’m surprised I even remembered what day it was. Here, why don’t I put Sterling in his swing and help you finish dinner?”

“No, absolutely not. It’s your birthday and I know you’re tired. Plus, I think he missed us today. You know how much he loves his swing but I didn’t get very much done before he got upset.”

“Alright, well, I’ll take him while you get everything else done. How’s that sound?”

You nod an agreement at his plan, transferring Sterling from your shoulder to his. There’s a few whimpers of disapproval, but he lets out a small sigh of contentment once he realizes it’s Harry who holds him now. Harry turns his head to smack a few kisses to the baby’s cheek to further pacify him. Sterling’s eyes open briefly, gazing sleepily up at his father. 

“Hi, bub, missed you. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into while Mummy makes dinner, huh?” 

“Not too much trouble, boys. It’s almost bedtime,” He winks at you as he turns to leave and you stop him, “Hey, wait, try this. Tell me if it needs anything.”

You stir a spoon through the pasta sauce you’ve had simmering away on the stove, bringing it to his lips with a hand underneath, careful not to drip it down the front of his white button-up or the top of Sterling’s head. He lets you feed him the spoonful, but doesn’t take his eyes off your lips.  Before you even have time to ask him how it is, he’s trapping his mouth against yours, a satisfied hum at the sauce mixing with the taste of you.

“Delicious.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, catching a bit of sauce that ended up smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“Really, darling, it’s perfect.” 

At this point it’s obvious he’s not talking about the sauce, and you push yourself up to plant another kiss on his lips.

“Another,” He gently demands, and you oblige, but he doesn’t pull away yet, “C’mon, few more.”

“Looks like Sterling’s not the only needy baby in this house tonight. How many more kisses do you need?”

He smirks down at you, “It’s my 27th birthday, innit? Think I deserve 27 kisses, don’t you?”

You send him away with the promise of fulfilling his request for the rest of his kisses later, finally able to rush through finishing the last of what was needed to complete the meal and call him back to see the table full of everything you’ve prepared. 

Sterling is bright eyed in Harry’s arms again, and you hope that feeding him will lull him back to sleep for the night. With him having to stay with a sitter on the days that you and Harry were both working, you’d recently had to switch to using bottles for some of his meals. The sitter had assured you that he was adjusting to the bottle well when he was with her, but it had been a frustrating transition for you. 

“You’ve just spoiled him to the usual way, love. It’ll get easier. Want me to try?” He holds out his hand, offering to take the bottle and Sterling back, but you refuse. You know Harry’s right, it will get easier eventually, but right now you know he’s just still tired and hungry. So you give in, lifting your shirt and tossing a blanket over him while he eats. 

“Eat so you can blow out your candles and then open your present.”

He sets a plate of food in front of you and passes you a fork so you can eat with your free hand.

His mouth is full of food but his green eyes light up when he looks at you, “I have a present?” 

“Of course you do. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

“Can we skip cake and do the present first?”

You giggle at his excitement, but the truth is you’re nervous. You know he will be nice enough to tell you he loves it, but you also know him well enough to read the truth on his face. 

“Sure, birthday boy, whatever you want.” Sterling’s finished eating by now so you rest him on your shoulder, tapping his back a few times until you hear a small burp. Harry’s plate is mostly empty now, as is yours, so you tuck Sterling into his swing while you go to retrieve the envelope from earlier in the day. Your heart races as you may your way back to where he sits at the table, his eyes covered dramatically as he waits.

“You can open,” You slide the envelope in front of him and prop your chin up on one of your hands as you watch his fingers work to open the clasp. The papers sit upside down on the table and you inhale a deep breath as he flips them over. His face is full of curiosity as his eyes scan the page. 

“Did you..is this real?”

“Well I’m not sure how official it is but, yes, it’s real.” You take the map from behind the certificate and point out the location, “According to this it’s..”

“Is my star right over our house?” His eyes are wide as he studies the coordinates, “Can we go see if we can see it now?”

How can you say no to that? You let him lead you out the back door of your home and out into the cool air of the night. He only lets go of your hand when he reaches the edge of the yard, pointing straight upwards.

“It’s gotta be that big one, right? That mine, right?” You look over his shoulder down at the map and then back up to where he’s pointing.

“Yep, I think that’s the one. Unless..do you have the map upside down?”

“No! Do I?” He squints his eyes, bringing it closer to his face in an attempt to read it in the dark. 

“You definitely did. It’s that one there..to the left of the big one we thought was yours.”

“S’gorgeous, baby,” He tugs your hand until your smushed against his side and he tosses his arm around you, letting out a deep sigh as he continues to stare up at the sky, “Thank you so much.”

“You really like it?” You’ve got both arms wrapped around his middle now, enjoying the feeling of his chest rising and falling.

“I really do, angel. Can’t believe you named a star after me twice.” 

“Twice?” You tilt your head upwards to look at his face.

“Yeah. Twice. That one,” He points up again, “My favorite one though, the greatest gift you will probably ever give me, is probably snoring in his swing right about now.”

As sweet as the moment is, you can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, “If he’s anything like you, he’s definitely snoring right now.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

“Oh yes, you do. Feel like I’m sleeping in a cave with a bear sometimes.”

That earns you a big, booming laugh from him, and he pulls you even closer to kiss the top of your head. You turn your body to face him, squeezing him once and kissing his chest through his shirt.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you,” He places his hands on either side of your face, thumbs rubbing along your cheeks, a slow smile sneaking its way across his face, “Can I have the rest of my kisses now?”

The next time Anne and Gemma come to visit, he’s sweeping them down to the end of the hallway leading into your living room, to where he now proudly shows them the framed certificate and map sitting side by side on the wall. Of course they had both already heard about it before. The day after his birthday he had spent 10 minutes on the phone with each of them bragging about it. He’s got Sterling in his arms as he shows it off now. He holds him up next to the two frames.

“How lucky am I, huh? Not every man can say they have two stars named after them, can they?”

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

as always likes, reblogs, replies, and feedback are welcome!

tag list: @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @la-cey, @tbslenthusiast​

[yamagucji]

MSBY boys coming home to you

a/n: highly ib by this art of shirtless hinata from insanityqueen go see it if u want a visual of his hc😌 fkjjssjkf this started bc i made a thirst post abt timeskip hinata now here we are 😳😔

Hinata

his flight arrives at 3am so bby boy told you to wait at home instead

all the excitement and adrenaline of being eager of his arrival eventually tired you out so you fell asleep, passed out in your shared bed

it was nearly 4am by the time he got home and when he called out for you, he got no response

“y/n? they must be asleep...”

so he trudged into the bedroom and finally found you fast asleep

careful not to wake you up, he quietly set his things aside and started undressing

the slight movement and light had woken you up from your slumber, and so you peeked an eye out towards the source of the noise

there he was in all his glory, shirtless and smiling down at you

“pumpkin! sorry, did i wake you? eh? no don’t get up, im almost done changing”

you made an effort to greet him, sitting up in your bed slightly- but he beat you to it, lunging towards your figure with his bare chest hitting against your clothes

his added weight on you made your back hit the bed once again

“hinata...” you mumble against his shoulder

“i missed you” / “i missed you so much pumpkin” you both expressed at the same time

he whispers sweet nothings to your ear, mumbling about his trip and how much he misses your touch

the two of you eventually fall into a deep slumber

Atsumu

‘tsumu said he was coming home sometime this week but never specified the time and day

“it’s the element of surprise, babe” ffs😪

the whole week felt like standing on your tippy toes, not knowing when he’s gonna be in your sight

when saturday arrived, you were nearly ready to give up on the idea of him showing up and assume he was joking

but when you opened the door to your house, throwing your stuff onto the side in exasperation, you were greeted by the smell of your favorite food

“love?” you called out, eagerly making your way to the kitchen

there he was in your apron, a smug look on his face as he stirred the pot with a wooden spoon

“miss me babe?”

ofc i do you pissed haired boy

you quickly make your way towards him, hugging his torso and burying your face on the crook of his neck

you mumble, “of course i do. you’re such a dummy for doing this to me love,”

he let go of the utensil and hugged you in return, bringing his nose down on your hair and enhaling your homey scents

he laughs- and you can feel that deep rumble vibrating against your chest and it makes you even more putty in his touch

“hmm, but did’ya like my little surprise?”

you spend the rest of your night being taken care of by atsumu, regardless of his own exhaustion

like you, he’s eager to make up for your time apart from each other ;)

Bokuto

bokuto hasn’t been responding to your texts/calls for over a day now, and you’ve become increasingly worried as time progresses

it’s unusual for him to not respond- you did think of the worst and how something could’ve possibly happened to him

but when you asked hinata and heard that he was doing well, that’s when you started thinking you might’ve done something wrong. but what could it be?

you spend the night cooped up in the couch, hiding beneath your comforter

why is this bby boy not responding to you?? :(

at around 1am, you hear the sound of keys jiggling, followed by the door opening

you perk up, “who-who’s that?”

and in a flash you see your beloved bokuto dashing towards you, leaping on top of your resting figure

“y/n! my beautiful! my love! i missed you,” he coos, bringing his face close to your neck

“kou, i missed you so much! was this your little surprise?”

he brings his face to hover over yours, his bright smile flashing you, “hm. did you like it?”

you chuckle, “of course love! i missed being with you- i thought something was wrong when you weren’t responding to me...”

“ah, sorry babe. akaashi said it’d be cool to surprise you! i managed it but it was so hard to ignore my love”

he closes the distance between you, making earlier’s worries disappear. you kiss long, as if sharing one breath. when he finally pulls away, he buries his face on your neck, emitting a deep grumble

“hmm, i missed your lips so much...” he mumbles, slowly drifting into sleep

Sakusa

sakusa had notified you about his return a few days prior, so you’d taken much of your free time making sure the house was spotless

on the night of his return, you cooked up his favorite food and left it covered on the table so the two of you could enjoy a nice meal together after weeks apart

he was supposed to arrive at 7pm, but press and traffic had hindered him from making it home on time. the build up had clearly made him anxious and grumpy- he couldn’t wait to come home and be in your arms, away from all these people

when he finally arrived home, it was nearly 9pm and the first thing he saw was your sleeping figure sprawled out on the couch, along with the lingering smell of his favorite food

he set his stuff aside, hanging his outer clothing on the rack and making his way towards you

you shift slightly at the sudden noise, and when you open your eyes you find your lover crouching down, fingers running along the side of your face, his other hand taking off his mask

“i’m sorry my love, i didn’t mean to come home so late.”

but you shake your head and dismiss his apology instead, sitting up to embrace him in your arms

“...do you mind taking a shower with me, then we’ll eat some dinner? thank you for making me food by the way, my love”

he’ll take you to the shower, and the two of you take turns taking care of each other, massaging the other’s scalp and shoulders

your time apart has definitely made sakusa a little touch starved, so expect little pecks on the forehead throughout the rest of the night <3

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 3

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

You finished sending your texts to Osamu and sat back in your bed, tossing your phone aside and then pulling the covers over your head. As you tugged and curled into your blankets, your phone fell to the wooden floor of your bedroom with a heavy thunk. Cursing, you drew back the covers and reached over the edge of the bed, trying to find balance. All of the blood rushed to your face as you huffed, still attempting to rescue your phone without actually laying foot on the ground.

Once you finally recovered it, you sat back onto your bed with a heave, any sleepiness you had now gone. You stared at the ceiling, wondering what you should do that day. A hand fisted itself into the thick blankets as you tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in your plush bed. You hadn't been able to sleep well the past couple of days, for whatever reason. Your neck hurt, your back was sore, hell, your entire body ached for some reason, restless and yet so tense at the same time.

You sat up suddenly. What was it Kuroo had said to you? You weren't sure.

"Ugh..." You buried your face into your hands, memories of last night's conversation rushing back to you; remembering how you'd started talking about Kita when you were nodding off. It had been over two years since everything between you went down. Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You could feel the burn of embarrassment and shame behind your eyes, your throat beginning to close up. Sniffling, you opened your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Who wouldn't be busy? Your hand stilled, and your face brightened, if only for a moment. Kenma. He had a calm and comforting presence, which never failed to mellow you out. Plus, he didn’t really talk about emotions or feelings so he wouldn’t ask you about anything related to Kita, nor would you be tempted to talk about him.

You texted your bodyguard and driver, Ichiro, who agreed to pick you up from your apartment and then drive you to Kenma’s. Thanking him for coming on such a short notice and then reminding him to not text and drive, you got dressed for the day, choosing to wear your comfiest hoodie.

A few minutes later, your phone lit up again with Ichiro’s standard “here” text, and you were out the door, not forgetting to bring a hat and sunglasses with you, though. After locking the door and slipping your accessories on, you rushed into the elevator and then made your way down to the car.

The car ride itself was silent, as Ichiro seemed to have picked up on the mood you were in and decided not to comment. Although he was usually stoic, he always maintained a conversation if you initiated it, his responses albeit short. By now you knew that the brevity in which he spoke was not because of anything against you, however, but because he was naturally a quiet person. You wouldn’t have had anyone else for the job, though.

The car softly jolted you as it pulled to a stop, and you unbuckled quickly after realizing you were already at Kenma’s apartment. “Thanks!” you called out, opening the door yourself and then shutting it. You smiled and waved before Ichiro merged back into traffic, watching the car eventually disappear in the long stream of vehicles.

Feeling somewhat better, you entered the complex after buzzing in. and then made your way to Kenma’s apartment, knocking on the door and patiently waiting. There was a long pause and some shuffling behind the door before it opened a crack. Two large yellow eyes peered out into the hall, and then landed on you. The door shut and then opened without the door chain to stop it this time, and you stepped in.

“I brought my Switch,” you proudly announced, looking to the side of the corridor where Kenma was standing, a little hunched over and slouching. You held up your video game console, which was covered in skins and cute accessories you'd purchased. Some of them you'd gotten for free from Kenma though, who got sent free stuff all the time.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, a soft smile on his face. He pulled half of his hair back with a hair tie and followed you back to where he streamed his games, settling into the chair that all of his fans could recognize by now. “We can play Minecraft, if you want. I haven't gone on our world for a while, so we could both go on.” Kenma swiveled to look at you inquisitively, waiting for an answer.

You lazily waved a hand at him. “No! Today you’re supposed to stream, right? I just crashed your place so I don’t really have a say. You should record and then if you have time after we can play,” you insisted, sitting on the bean bag behind his gamer chair. “I’ll watch or maybe work on my own world.”

Kenma thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded, setting up his microphone and monitors. “Last chance,” he mumbled, then put his headset over his ears, blocking out everything else. You watched in the background with mild interest as he went through his usual monotonous introduction, one that his fans seemed to adore despite its lack of flair. Perhaps it was exactly that what made him so endearing to the internet. Smiling, you glanced back down to your Switch, and opened up Minecraft.

Setting your phone down for a second after replying to Atsumu, you called out lazily: "Oiiii, Kenma.” After a beat of silence and no response, you called again, "Kenmaaaa."

He had been just finished streaming, and pulled off his headphones. "Hm?"

You sat up excitedly, startling Kenma. "When I move, you should visit! Once I get settled in, at least."

He blinked, looking up at the ceiling as if calculating the pros and cons. "Too many bugs," he finally responded with a small grimace. "And it's gross and hot outside."

At that, you broke out into a laugh, the heartiest and most meaningful you’d had in a while. His particular comment wasn't even that funny, it was just- it was just so him. Was your sense of humor breaking? “Maybe I'll be able to change your mind," you mused. "We can even stream a video collab with the both of us- we should try Animal Crossing!" You clapped excitedly, beaming. "Kenma, let's do Animal Crossing once it comes out!”

He squinted his eyes, scooting away from you and your blinding enthusiasm. "Fine," he muttered, hunched over his phone now. He scrolled for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you see that we're trending? On Twitter and YouTube." Kenma handed you his phone, stifling a small laugh into the collar of his sweatshirt as he sat back.

"I did," you snickered, laying his phone on the table and lying back on his bean bag chair. "My favorite response is the one about the Kodzuken simps," you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at Kenma and then cackling when he turned completely the other way from you. "Kenma, they're devastated!" You gasped dramatically and then draped an arm over your forehead, fainting.

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. "Shut up, Y/N."

After your giggles died out, you saw him offering a controller to you. "Game night!" you cheered, accepting it and sitting up straighter. "We should get takeout!"

Kenma lifted a brow, as if to say why are you even telling me this? "Already on its way.”

The two of you chatted as you played Minecraft, Kenma being a little more open when his mind was preoccupied with gaming. He was, of course, much better than you, eyes glued to the TV screen which had been hooked up to the game console. "Has Kuroo told you who's going to the Olympics?"

You shook your head, then remembered that Kenma wasn't looking your way. "No," you replied slowly, focused on getting out of the water so you could escape the mobs that were chasing you. "But a few of the boys from Inarizaki are. As for Kuroo, I think he was going to say something, but I fell asleep last night. He said something about you and an advertisement, though?"

Kenma smiled, finally breaking his gaze with the screen and looking at you. "Hinata Shōyō from MSBY is collabing with me, to promote the 2020 Olympic games."

Your eyes lit up in recognition. "That's right! Atsumu is teammates with him. I haven't talked to him one-on-one, though. He seems sweet!"

Kenma turned his attention back to the TV, where he was almost done building a house. "He played volleyball in high school too. They beat Inarizaki his first year at Nationals."

You stopped to think, your hands stilling on the controller. Your breathing slowed. In your third year, Inarizaki hadn't progressed further into Nationals, like everyone predicted. Despite being assistant manager, you hadn't thought it would be a big deal to miss their first match in the competition; assistant managers weren’t even allowed on the actual court anyways. You had all thought you were going to get further. You had thought you would get to see your boys play one last time. You had thought you would get to see Kita lead his team to Nationals, as team captain.

You had missed out on that opportunity for signing a record deal.

Beside you, Kenma noticed how quiet you'd gotten but didn't comment, instead going to the door when the buzzer notified him of their takeout delivery. You picked at a loose string on your hoodie, remembering why you didn't often go to Kenma when in distress. While you knew he cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew that heart-to-heart conversations weren't his strong suit. When he returned a few moments later with your favorite foods, you pushed down the eruption of guilt and self-loathing with a bright smile. "Sorry, what were we saying? Something about Kuroo..." You strained to keep your eyes crinkled and happy.

Kenma's brow furrowed. "Kuroo-"

You interrupted him, and he let you. "Oh yeah! Kuroo and I are gonna hang out on Thursday! Wanna come? I'm leaving Saturday morning, so unless I see you before then, this will be the last time you see me before I leave for Hyōgo."

You watched his face run through a couple of emotions before settling on contemplation. Kenma blew a wisp of stray hair from his eyes and then begrudgingly: "Sure..."

This time, you gave him a true smile and clapped excitedly. "Yay! Should we try to get some of the others to join us? Lev? I want to be able to say goodbye to all of you in person, if possible." Then, swiping the plastic bag from Kenma, you opened the bag hurriedly and began pulling out things. "Here are the plates... and the chopsticks..." You set everything out and then let him load his plate with food first. Soon after, the two of you were back to playing Minecraft, squabbling over who got to use what equipment. After Kenma finally relented and let you have first pick, the both of you set out to fight the swarms of mobs gathered near your shared house.

"Hey, Y/N."

You had looked away for only a couple seconds, but you were blown up by a Creeper. "BITCH," you screeched, "I just fucking died?!"

Kenma snickered, running past your character and stealing everything you'd left behind. You gasped even louder. "BITCH-"

a/n: i said there weren’t going to be as many words as the last part but 🤡 also currently the fic is moving slowly and going day by day but it’ll pick up the pace soonish

taglist (pm me to ask to be added!): @papiibuprofen​ (i didn’t know if i should just respond to your ask publicly sksksk but i added you) 

some ~fun facts~

- y/n’s bodyguard/driver is named after ichiro, one of my fav baseball players

- his name in y/n’s contacts is “bonecrusher 👹” lmao 

- he is stoic but actually a softie; he’s about 30 and has a wife and one kid, both of whom he loves very much 

- i had kenma and y/n playing animal crossing instead of minecraft at first, then realized that it wouldn’t have been released yet, since this takes place in 2020... DAMN YOU TIMELINE

- do i have a map of hyōgo so i can write this fic? yes 💀

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 6]

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, chapter 5 here

Come on, save it, save it, Donnie chanted to himself later that night, at home and tucked away in his room trying to figure out how to neutralize the situation. He paced along his bed back and forth, phone in hand as he wracked his brain thinking about how he'd get her to let it go. He could tell her that she was...overtired? Go the stereotypical route and say it was just her eyes playing tricks on her? Try to play it off as human teenagers messing around on the roof?

She'd gone to bed already. He hated that he couldn't pursue the subject until morning, her morning, but by then, he'd be tired. When she woke, he slept. But he needed to get it resolved as quickly as possible, so he reckoned it was time to pull an all nighter. Luckily, that wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

He figured he'd get the preliminaries out of the way so he could get right to it when she eventually texted back.

"Good morning

I know you're not awake yet but I figured I'd get an early start today.

I want to know, what exactly did you see last night?"

He shut his phone off and set it down on the bed, fingers rubbing his temples. Depending on her answer, this would either be difficult, or near impossible.

The rest of his time was spent just waiting around for her to finally wake up, dodging all his brothers and trying to occupy himself with something. He was fiddling with the radio he kept on the floor next to his bed when his phone notified him of a message. Turning the volume up, some old-school rock played softly. He didn't always keep music on when he worked, which was what he was doing felt like, but something needed to fill the silence. It also made it feel more casual to have the radio on, for both himself and for whoever might stop by his room.

"Good morning to you too

That was...sudden??"

How nice it was to read those words coming from someone who wasn't his family. Not that they said it like that often anyway, but the small gesture hit differently.

"I'm just really curious about what you said you saw."

Curious? Not quite. More like dying to know, and not because he fancied himself some cryptid hunting.

"That's fair I guess

But don't laugh, ok?"

"I'd never, [y/n]"

"Well

Okay

They were big

But no like not the overweight kinf, not even just 'tall guy' kind of big

kind*

You know?"

Yeah, I aware. I'm 6'8" and have a giant shell on my back.

"They?"

He was hoping she'd only seen one of them. Maybe it would have been easier, but, of course, that wasn't the case.

"I think there were two

Idk it just looked really weird, it was dark but the silhouette from the light made them look bulky, I don't know what it was"

Lips pursed tight, he looked up from his phone, and all of a sudden that music in the background was suffocating. He quickly reached over and shut it off. He needed to be able to divert all of his attention to one thing. Except, even though he should have been spazzing over her spotting them (even if just for a split second), a concern crept up in the back of his mind that made him scoff at himself. The need to know was too great.

His eyes fell on his scaled, three-fingered hand as he typed.

"Did it scare you?"

Perhaps it wasn't what he should have been focusing on. But he was. He knew she hadn't seen much, but what if she quipped that it was frightening, or gross, or…?

"I don't know, Bo

I guess it was kind of freaky

Uh, do you actually believe me? That I saw something?"

"'Freaky?'" he repeated to himself in a whisper, brow ridge furrowed. What was I expecting?

He had to shake himself of whatever was going on in his head at the moment, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Like what he was going to answer her question with. Theoretically, he could go two routes; one, invalidate the experience and try to walk on the line of telling her that it was not real without making her feel crazy. And then probably get mad at him. Or two, go along with it, if he didn't have the heart to do that to her. The answer was already here; he let out a deep sigh. Two, it is.

Nothing could make him want to make her feel that way, even if it meant he'd have to put in a little extra effort in fixing his mistake.

"I wouldn't doubt your judgement, [y/n]."

"Thanks

That makes me feel a lot better

You're a really good guy, Bo :)"

Freezing, he sat and stared at the screen before slowly taking the phone away from his face, lips moving, but no sound coming out. He had no idea what to say; all he could focus on was the fact that the girl he undeniably liked thought he was a good guy. And that, presumably, it meant she might have liked him as well. Big on the "might", he realized as the logical part of his mind took over once again. Regardless, he licked his lips and got to preparing a worthy response. He didn't want to come off as flustered as he felt. Donnie was aware he was not particularly suave—he took solace in the fact that she couldn't see his face or hear his voice. He contemplated on acting a bit more "cool guy" than he actually was, but wanted her to like him for him, not a facade. Which was a major contradiction to all that he had done up to that point, but the least he could do was be the person he was on the inside!

"You there?"

"Sorry, I got distracted…

You really think so?"

"That I think you're a great guy?"

"Well...yes."

"Totally. 100%"

His heart was going, he was stammering to himself, and a new feeling enveloped him. He was no stranger to the different emotions; he'd gotten familiar with many of them. Because though he didn't always show it, he had a lot of feelings. These, he felt most viscerally. But he had to get back on track. If he could push last night's incident under the rug, all would be well. More well than it already was, considering.

"Thank you, [y/n]

To be honest, I've never had a friend like you

So, do you want to talk more about what you saw? I know I'm switching tracks quickly, it's just very….interesting."

It was a jarring and awkward subject change, he knew that, but he desperately wanted to get it out of the way. The sooner, the better.

"I suppose

You seem pretty interested in it"

Maybe she wasn't hanging onto the experience like he'd thought she would. There were so many tales of people seeing inexplicable things and becoming enraptured by the experience that he guessed he should only expect the worst, but it appeared that she was not so obsessed. Crisis averted?

"Not too much, I was just wondering

We can forget about it."

"Oh, I'm not going to forget about it, Bo"

There it is, he thought, not surprised.

After thirty minutes of attempting to throw her off without coming off as suspicious himself, he had to take a breather, reorganize his mind. Only to come back and find that she had to go take care of things, and that she'd talk to him later. He'd done as much fixing as he could; at that point, it was as good as it was going to get. The thought of being looked for by his unknowing friend loomed about in the coming weeks as they did their patrols, when they would pass by her residence, and the times that he snuck off to stop by himself. Sometimes accompanied by Mikey, but he tried to keep it as solitary as possible. Soon, watching her on her balcony from that roof became part of his routine. He vaguely thought sometimes that watching her like that could be considered creepy, but that ship had already sailed.

For the third time in the last month he was there yet again, on the same roof, watching the same balcony, watching the same girl. Sometimes they texted, sometimes they didn't. The times he wasn't talking to her as he sat there were the times he daringly crossed the threshold onto the fire escape. There were only a few instances of that. But did he still feel out of his mind doing so? Yes. The window only looked into part of the living room and kitchen, but he felt scandalous to do it. Most of his time there was spent only with his shell against the wall next to the window, just out of sight. He could always hear her faint but noticeable footsteps coming and could easily vault the railing and climb up or drop down. She couldn't get past his keen hearing unless she knew to tread lightly.

Mikey was with him once again, this time out to look for scrap rather than patrol. He'd been buddied up with his younger brother more often ever since their talk that night in Donnie's room. They only stopped by because they were already out and had a viable excuse.

"Does she know about us? Like, me, Leo, Raph..." rambled Mikey, curious, as he practiced one of his new moves with his skateboard. He kicked up onto the ledge of the roof and skidded before hopping off, tucking the board under his arm. "You guys have been together like, what, two months? And she doesn't even know your name."

Fiddling with the strap reaching around his shoulder, Donnie replied matter-of-factly to hide the embarrassment that was ailing him at the thought, "Okay, for starters, we're not 'together'. And secondly, she hasn't mentioned voice chatting in a while."

"And?" He got back on his board, zooming by Donnie.

"My name? It just hasn't come up," Donnie shrugged.

"Call her, then!" Mikey smiled, still preoccupied with his board and trying out his new tricks. Donnie gave a light scoff and shook his head. His brother passed behind him where he sat leaned against the water tower.

"I don't want to just call her out of nowhere, Mikey, she might be asleep."

He also didn't want his brother there when he did.

"You gotta not be so shy!...oh, look, in the window. Right there. See? She's up," he quipped with a small smirk. The curtain was drawn, but the light had turned on at some point, and they could see her silhouette moving past. Donnie looked over his shoulder to say something but felt a hand slip into his pocket on the other side, stealing his phone right off of him. He was fast, but Mikey was faster in jumping into his board and gliding all the way to the other side of the roof with the fussy turtle hot on his trail.

"Mikey, quit it!" Donnie barked, lunging toward him for the phone.

"You'll thank me later!"

The two wrestled for the phone, Mikey holding it just out of reach as he tried to navigate the screen without dropping it.

"Come on," grunted Donnie as the tussle led them near the edge, where Mikey held it precariously over the alley below. His glasses were jostled off his face when a stray hand bumped them, causing them to fall amongst their feet. Squinting, he partially knelt down and searched for the pair while still looking at his brother and his phone, trying to stretch his arm long enough to snatch it. "Really?" he groaned, "just give me the phone!"

Donnie slung out his staff and used the other end to whack his wrist from underneath just as he pulled away from the edge, losing his grip on the phone. Mikey tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand, going right over the side of the roof and plummeting down into the alley.

Mikey froze. Donnie finally found his glasses.

Laughing nervously, Mikey turned back to him, "Whoops…"

When he didn't immediately find the phone on the ground, Donnie knew what happened. He looked over the edge, and there it was, sitting on the pavement in the alleyway. The building wasn't incredibly tall, but enough to do some major damage. He'd have to switch for one of his spares if he didn't want to deal with a busted-up screen.

"I don't need your 'help', Mikey, so leave it alone next time," Donnie said and gave him a narrow-eyed look, huffing as he leaped down to retrieve it.

Mikey may have been insistent, but he knew then it was time to stop. All he wanted to do was help. For his shy, flakey brother to come out of his shell (no pun intended). Donnie, at that time, had the biggest shot out of all of them for something unique and good. He hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how to bridge the gap between the two, but it was a calling of his to help him along.

Donnie watched for people from behind a corner before creeping out to get the phone, which was face down on the concrete. No doubt cracked to all hell if not completely shattered, though it did have a case.

But as he got closer, he heard a voice. From the phone.

He picked up the phone timidly and shot a glance up at the roof, where Mikey was peeking over the edge in apprehension. Without a word, Donnie activated the taser in his staff, pointing it at his brother and zapping it briefly. He flinched and retreated out of sight.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Bo?" she asked again, tone riddled with confusion. "What was that?"

"Uh, yes—hol—hold on, please," stammered out donnie, flying around the corner and pressing flat against the wall as a group of laughing people passed by the alley. "Just one second," he said nervously. Above him, Mikey was rapidly motioning for him to get up there, eyes wide and body trying to stay low. Baffled, Donnie gestured back at him, mouthing at him to keep his pants on for one more minute while he made his way up.

"Hey, what's going on there?" she inquired, concerned.

A street cat abruptly skittered out from between his legs from the dumpster he stood next to, and he had to stifle a startled yelp. He hopped up onto the nearest fire escape, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, hello…[y/n]," he half-chuckled, distracted by working up the building one-armed as he kept as quiet as possible.

"What was all that? And who's 'Mikey'?"

There was suddenly a shout—Mikey's shout—and his stomach did a jump. He sputtered as fast as he could, "I'm sorry [y/n] but this really isn't a good time, and I mean it really isn't," he pulled himself up onto the roof, and there was Mikey, fending off men clad in black, "so I have to go, but—"

"Don, dude! I need help over here!" cried his brother, sliding out of the way as a sword was jabbed towards him. He countered with a harsh uppercut to the man's chin, sending him stumbling backwards. The blade fell to the concrete with a clank.

"'Don'? Bo, what the hell?! Who is with you? And—"

Donnie jumped into the battle, a mix of nine or ten armed men with swords other weapons, and Mikey trying to stave them off, swinging his chucks with nothing short of reckless abandon. But he still didn't hit himself with them.

Ending the call, he secured the phone in his pocket. He wailed the guy closest to him in the side of the head with the heavy staff, then kicked him in the chest. The man fell to the blow, and Mikey ducked underneath the length of Donnie's weapon just in time as the two came together. Stray bullets flew past them, some colliding with their shells as they spun around for protection.

"How was it?!" Mikey yelled over the clamor, breathless. Donnie sidestepped from the rapid hit he sent towards the human to his left.

"What are you talking about?!" Donnie loudly questioned, flummoxed of what could have been going on in his brain during a fight. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

"Your phone call!"

"Yeah, the hell's the talkin' about, Don?" a gruff voice cut through the jumble.

Both of the boys whirled around to see their older brothers there, weapons drawn.

"Oh, right. As soon as I saw those bad guys coming, I let them know," said Mikey casually to Donnie, throwing his fist into the face of the man coming up behind him. "You know, standard biz."

With the rest of the team there, the fight was over twice as fast. Some groaning in pain and some unconscious bodies littering the area, along with their weapons. Leo finished the last one and sheathed his swords, eyes on their tallest brother while Raph kept watch around them. Donnie swallowed as Leo approached him.

"Don, you said you were going out for scrap metal," Leo stated.

In the background, Mikey grabbed his skateboard and was going to try to kickflip over one of the knocked out guys, but Raph yanked the board from him, growling. He checked all of the men to make sure they were down and would stay down.

"We were...just on our way back?" Donnie answered. Nearby, there was a small pile of scrap he'd collected, though definitely not enough to justify being out that long.

"So you stopped at your friend's place?" Leo deadpanned, crossing his arms. "Didn't you think that this could get her in trouble, too? Her apartment's right there, dude!"

Mikey budded in and corrected him, "Ah, we stopped by [y/n]'s. And nah! It's all good."

Donnie's face twitched. "Of course I thought about it! That's why I've only come here three times since, and only thirty minute intervals!" he bit back, throwing his hands up. The rest of his brothers all looked at him and his specificity. "I'm not naive, Leo."

The leader pushed past the both of them, signalling that it was time to leave, and they followed. Not before Donnie got what little metal he had collected and put away his staff, tucking the stuff under his arm. Raph joined alongside Donnie as they ran. "What's with all the secret' stuff, Don? First, ya hide it to begin with, then, ya make out like you were done, and now you get jumped by Foot guys by her place when you shoulda been gettin' scrap!" he said. "How were we supposed to cover for ya if you're lyin' even after we let you off?"

"Technically, I did get some!" Donnie remarked. He held up a piece of the scrap for him to see, and Raph snorted. "But..."

Well, his question would be a little harder to answer.

Next block was the nearest manhole, where each turtle swiftly jumped in, knowing by heart (and years of wandering) most of the sewers and the way back home. In some tunnels was Mikey's telltale graffiti, but it was scattered throughout the place enough to not be a giant arrow to their hideout. In the last portion of the run was the tunnel they always slid down, and once they were actually home, Donnie knew what was coming. Master Splinter was already waiting for them by the time they arrived.

"Uh-oh," Mikey said upon seeing him, sinking behind his brothers. Raph pushed him back up front.

Dropping the scrap in his arms, Donnie squeaked, "That's not good." He quietly cursed how high pitched his voice became when he was nervous.

"Yeah…" Leo cleared his throat, looking down at his hands clasped in front of him. The situation had an awkward tension for everyone in it, save for Raph, who was immune to it by then and Splinter himself. "We took care of the soldiers," he added more seriously. "Got out of there before too much attention was drawn.

"The police may be able to handle them from here, but it will not make a dent in the Shredder's forces," explained Splinter, grave as he paced along the line of brothers. "He owns the city. Until I say so, there will be no venturing to the surface. You are all lucky to be unharmed."

"That ain't it," Raph piped up. "But they'll be bringin' the big guns, next time."

"Oh, I am well aware."

"Um...of which thing?" the nervous turtle questioned, exchanging glances to Raph and then Mikey.

Splinter raised his brows knowingly, and that was all it took for Donnie. The floodgates of his signature anxious chatter opened. He grabbed the edge of Mikey's shell and pulled him over into the spotlight with him, "I met someone over an online game and we started texting after a few weeks, and—and Leo found out and I said I would stop, but we never told you," he gestured toward their brother in blue, who refused to make eye contact, "so I told her that it was through and then Mikey somehow convinced me to go back on it," he sucked in a breath, and Mikey grinned uncomfortably, "and then we started talking again and I don't know why, but I went back there to her apartment building and it was just…stupid."

There was a cumbrous pause. Donnie was stiff as a board, Mikey couldn't look at any one thing too long, Leo stood in his polite but awkward stance, and Raph started to whistle.

As poised as ever, Splinter spoke. "I know."

All four pairs of eyes shot to their father.

"What?"

"Uh..."

"Huh?"

"Wait."

They expressed their collective confusion at the same time, and Splinter chuckled. Donnie wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat into his shell, but that was physically impossible. "Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello. You are scratching that spot on your neck again, son."

Flinching, Donnie pulled his hand away. He'd be damned; Splinter was right.

But unbeknownst to them, there had been spectator of their fight on the roof that night.

————————————————————————————————

shh do not think too deeply about this my children

a/n: haha plot device go brrrr

i need to finish this cursed fanfiction

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 2

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: plot plot plot, mild descriptions of violence, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, sloooooooooooooow burn – seriously, we’re just getting started so it’s gonna be a bit before feelings are involved, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: The plan right now is for there to be 3 parts of Chapter 1. Tumblr isn’t doing a good job notifying my taglist, so I apologize if I bother anyone reblogging this a few times trying to get it to work. Thank you everyone out there for each like, comment, ask and reblog! The support means the world to me 🥰

Part 1 Part 3

Cross-posted on AO3

The village is a small community with less than a hundred citizens living there total, yet it is visible from miles away due to the bright paints used to decorate the houses. Murals depicting the village’s history and its residents adorn every house with details added by each new generation so that no one is ever forgotten. Back when visitors would pass through, they would always compliment the village’s beauty, but there is nothing beautiful at all about the electric fence the Imps erected shortly after seizing control, emitting shocks harsh enough to kill.

Originally the stormtroopers said it was to protect the village from threats, but nobody believed the lie. The only threat to the community was the Empire. They don’t bother making up excuses anymore, now they like to remind everyone the whole village is their prisoner, usually by a show of violence so unbelievably malicious it stuns everyone into compliance.

There are some horrors time will never erase from your mind.

Juni trees grow beside the fence outside the perimeter, the only species of tree amongst the shrubbery and turu-grass, and they are tall enough for their thick orange branches to extend over the uppermost wire. In the mornings, Ahsoka climbs out your bedroom window, slides down the sloped roof of the house and leaps onto a nearby branch. You follow after her, trusting that she won’t let you fall when you stretch out your hand for her to catch you and lift you up using a bit of Force to give you a boost. The two of you sneak back inside the village using the same tree, only instead of leaping at the house, you drop the short fall onto the ground beneath. Five years and the stormtroopers haven’t caught onto your trick yet. 

Except now the tree isn’t an option. Not when you both are half-carrying, half-dragging two-hundred pounds of flesh and metal. 

Hiding behind a clump of coyal bushes, you and Ahsoka scout the entrance booth where a pair of stormtroopers dressed in their characteristic white armor stand guard, holding blaster rifles. There are others on patrol, walking along the fence and checking its integrity, gradually stepping further and further out of view, but they will be back eventually. Your window of opportunity is limited. 

You adjust the warrior’s arm over your shoulders, quietly groaning when your muscles protest the heaviness. “What are we going to do? Stormies might share one brain cell, but they’re definitely going to notice this heap of metal we’re carrying. And as soon as they find out we don’t have passes, they’re going to start shooting.”

Passes are only given to a handful of the community’s traders each week. It is a three day ride on a repulsorlift speeder to the capital where they have a short span of time to sell their goods and then return home within the week with essential supplies. To ensure no one tries to run away, the Imps set up strict rules. If the traders are late, even if only by a few minutes or due to reasons outside their control, the rest of the villagers pay the price. Usually the punishment is a public beating, but sometimes the stormtroopers get creative and tie their chosen victims to a pole overnight by their head-tails. 

Nobody, not even the younglings, sleep those nights.

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka answers, firm and confident, gaze fixed upon the gate. “Just follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

She doesn’t spare you a second to protest, stepping out into the open and forcing you to follow or else drop the warrior’s body. 

The stormtroopers spot the three of you immediately, relaxed postures stiffening with alarm, and you have to remind yourself over and over to breathe, to not let them see any hint of the anxiety buzzing beneath your skin.

“Hold it right there!” One of the stormtroopers orders when the distance between you and them has shortened to a mere three feet. You freeze at once, heart pounding as fast as a thimiar’s seconds away from being eaten. A quick glance at Ahsoka reveals no fear in her expression. She stares at them indifferently, as if she is about to talk about the weather. 

“Explain yourselves.” It is not a request.

You squirm, nearly knocking your head against the warrior’s bowed head, on the verge of losing your composure, when you notice Ahsoka lifting her arm.

“You will let us pass,” she says, adopting a suggestive tone while waving her hand in front of their visors.

They respond in unison, seemingly entranced. “We will let you pass.”

You bite your lip as you and Ahsoka pass between the stormtroopers and through the gate, not wanting to break the spell by letting loose the barrage of questions forming on your tongue. What your sister had done was as amazing as it was frightening. She had manipulated them with such confident ease you are certain this isn’t the first time she has performed the trick on someone. 

“When did Aunt Shaak teach you that?” 

“She didn’t,” Ahsoka replies lowly, casting a quick glance around. “I taught myself.”

Your skin prickles as you also become aware of the increasing number of eyes staring at you. With the sun fully awake and bringing morning light with it, several villagers are carrying on with their daily routines outside of their homes. Most of them seem a mixture of confused and concerned about the stranger, but you spy the Elders looking displeased by the new addition amongst their ranks. 

You are not looking forward to being inevitably summoned and interrogated by them.

“How?” you ask, copying her hushed cadence. Then, a pulse of panic blooms in your chest. “Have you ever—?”

“No, I haven’t messed with your mind before. Never even considered it,” Ahsoka interrupts, sensing your worries. “I don’t practice often, but when I do it’s just harmless little suggestions. Like convincing Huno to give the younglings an extra sugar biscuit when he has some to spare or persuading Jaelee to go to bed early when I know she’s been overworking herself. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really sure the trick would work on those bucket heads since I’ve never tried it on two minds at once before. Lucky us, right?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”

Is she being serious right now? They would be dead right now if her gamble hadn’t paid off.

Ahsoka pretends not to hear you, nodding her head towards the blue-painted house up ahead. “C’mon, Maar probably already knows we’re coming.”

Maar Vashee has been the village’s healer for a little over fifty years. The purple-skinned Togruta helped deliver you and Ahsoka, and was considered by your mother when she was still living to be a dear friend. Her connection to the Force is especially sensitive due to her intricate relationship with the flora of the planet, using various herbs and plants to create remedies, and as such she developed a type of sixth sense where she instinctively knows when her skills are needed.

Entering her home that doubles as her clinic, you find Maar had indeed anticipated your arrival and set up a cot to place the warrior upon. Once he is laid down, you roll your aching shoulders, biting back a wince as the movement irritates the headache lingering at the back of your head. 

The warrior hadn’t made one noise the entirety of the trip bringing him here. Even now as he rests on the cot, his breaths are so quiet you would fear he wasn’t breathing at all if not for his chest moving. You touch his hand impulsively, laying yours over his gloved one. There is no response, not a twitch or spasm.

A sharp gasp of surprise has you whirling around, eyes landing upon Maar standing in the doorway between the clinic and her living quarters. She clutches a glass jar of spotted red herbs labeled nysillin against her chest, staring at the warrior like she is looking at a ghost. 

“Maar,” Ahsoka calls out softly, coming to stand by your side. A long moment of silence passes before the older Togruta manages to drag her gaze away to focus on you and Ahsoka, green eyes a bit too wide-eyed and haunted. Your sister’s gentle tone remains when she inquires, “What’s wrong? Do you...do you know him?”

Maar chokes out a brittle noise sounding like a cross between a dry laugh and a derisive scoff. “Personally? No.” She moves closer to the cot, the white circular markings around her eyes softening with what you confusingly identify as sympathy. “I’ve heard stories of his kind though. Years ago, many considered the Mandalorians the only ones capable of defeating the Imperials.”

“Holy frak,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

As a youngling, your mother used to tell you stories about the fiercest fighters in the galaxy known as Mandalorians. They lived on Mandalore and had a special connection with their weapons, a bond nobody else could understand or mimic, trained to handle guns and knives as soon as they could walk. They defended the galaxy from unlawful rulers and the threat of enslavement, unafraid to spill blood when they knew peace would follow. Your mother told you they never lost a battle. Defeat was a word unknown to them.

At least until—

“Mandalorians were wiped out during the Decimation of Alderaan,” Ahsoka interrupts your thoughts, voice pitched high with disbelief. “And the few who lived were hunted down shortly after. The Imps made sure there weren’t any left to challenge them.”

As if triggered, you recall a detail from your brain glitch, a thought that had crossed your mind when you were flying through the storm. You had been looking for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan. 

It’s just a coincidence, you think. But a voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your Aunt Shaak counters, there are no coincidences. 

And as much as you loathe admitting it, that voice is right. Having the image of a mudhorn slip into your brain shortly before you find a warrior—no, a karking Mandalorian of all people—with the same creature on his armor? It is too precise to be a coincidence. Your paths were meant to cross each other.

If only you had the slightest clue as to why.

Maar sets the jar down on a nearby table, then picks up the Mandalorian’s wrist to check his pulse. “That is what we all thought,” she agrees after a minute of counting has passed, dropping his hand. “His armor is characteristic of their kind. Nothing in the galaxy is as strong or valuable as their beskar. Let’s pray to Ai our beliefs about the Mandalorians’ extinction are mistaken,” she nods towards the unconscious warrior, “especially for his sake.”

Realization creates a sickening pit in your stomach. 

Regardless of the status of his kind, when he wakes up his whole world is going to be flipped upside down.

__

Three hours later, not much has changed except the room is brighter, afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, and smells sweet due to the bowl of herbs Maar left simmering on the table near the Mandalorian’s head, explaining the aroma will cure him of his hibernation sickness as he breathes it in.

“He’ll wake up when the marg sabls open tomorrow,” Maar told you with a gesture towards the potted red-and-pink flowers in the windowsill. They grow all over Shili, popular because they open their petals in a sunburst shape every morning. 

Ahsoka comes and goes, blessedly not criticizing your decision to sit at the warrior’s bedside when you have a list of chores to complete—doubled now that you lost your bet with Ahsoka earlier. She intercepts curious younglings hoping to sneak a glimpse of the Mandalorian whose presence has become known throughout the village. Nothing stays a secret long in the community. Gossip spreads as quickly as colds and takes twice as long to get over. 

If the stormtroopers catch on, the consequences will be disastrous. For once, Ahsoka shares your fears, admitting she isn’t capable of tricking a whole platoon. 

“The Elders aren’t happy,” Ahsoka says in-between sips of bone broth. “They think it’s too dangerous having him here.”

You swallow your mouthful, shaking your head. “I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

Averting your gaze towards your lap, you scratch at an imaginary stain on your leggings. “Just a feeling I have.”

Ahsoka leans forward in her seat, pointing an accusing finger at you, causing your head to jerk back up. “The Force connected with you again, didn’t it? I knew you were acting weird before we found him.” She frowns, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never wanted to be special, Ahsoka,” you reply honestly. “I never wished or prayed to have visions, to have these random details pop into my head, to feel others’ emotions so strongly it’s like I’m trapped inside their bodies. There is nothing cool or entertaining about it. It’s…” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, forcing you to take a pause. You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“I had no idea you were struggling so much,” your sister murmurs, voice soft with contrition.

“How could you when I didn’t even want myself to acknowledge that I was?” you counter, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as the truth sinks in. “I tried to ignore it all as best as I could. If not for meeting our friend over here,” you tilt your head in the Mandalorian’s direction, “I’d probably still be in denial. But I can’t ignore the Force this time. Not when the message is this important.”

“What is it?”

“We were meant to find him. To bring him back with us. I think—I believe he’s important. Remember what Maar said? About how people used to believe Mandalorians would beat the Empire?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrows incredulously. “You really think one warrior can defeat Emperor Gideon’s army? The rebels have been trying for years and the Emperor is always one step ahead.”

You can’t help deflating a bit, shoulders slumping. “Well when you put it like that…”

“Have you considered an alternative reason why he’s important?” she asks. When you don’t answer right away, she takes it as a cue to continue, “Maybe you’re right and he is going to change the galaxy for the better. But he could also be a warning. The Imps wiped out his kind, what if they plan to do the same to us?”

Your lips part to respond, only to close again wordlessly. You thought by accepting your brain glitches as messages from the Force they would become clearer, easier to understand. A lantern guiding you through this maze of darkness epitomizing your life.

But you have never felt more lost.

__

Falling asleep is a mistake. 

You didn’t know this when you rejected Maar’s suggestion to head home and sleep in your comfortable bed instead of curling up on her spare cot that squeaks whenever you move. The prideful side of you believed it was best if you were the first face the Mandalorian saw when he woke up because he would remember you and the promise you swore. He would trust you to explain everything to him.

Within a second of waking up, you realize how naive you were to think you had even a shred of influence over him. 

The sound of something shattering has you nearly tumbling off the side of the cot, jerking awake with a sudden burst of fear. You blink rapidly to clear the haziness of sleep from your vision, struggling to make sense of what you are seeing.

Pieces of Maar’s ceramic bowl litter the floor along with bits of charcoal and ash. Ahsoka and the Mandalorian stand on opposite sides of the room, staring each other down, poised to fight. The Mandalorian has a vibroblade clenched in his hand, while your sister crouches low, fists raised. You know Ahsoka can hold her own in a fight, even without the advantage of a weapon, but fear winds its way down your spine, cold and slimy, when you can’t help but notice how small she looks compared to him. Not only because he is a few inches taller, but because he also exudes an undeniable aura of intimidation: his unwavering silence, the skilled manner he wields his knife, even the sharp gleam of his beskar pieces reflecting the pale morning light has your chest tightening with dread.

The clinic’s lights flick on right as Maar announces her presence by cocking a blaster pistol. It is the Mandalorian’s own weapon, removed from his holster when Maar examined him earlier. “Alright,” she says to the room at large as she fully enters, dressed in her sleeping robe. “Let’s all settle down. Blood isn’t an easy stain to clean and I’d prefer it if none was spilt.”

You see the moment the Mandalorian decides to comply, shoulders loosening beneath the pauldrons and stance shifting from defensive to neutral, as he processes he doesn’t need to fight his way out of here. The vibroblade is sheathed within his right boot in one fluid motion and it is startling, truly, how quick he transforms from a dangerous threat to a potentially dangerous threat. 

Ahsoka is reluctant to yield, staring him up and down for a drawn out moment that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. Only when Maar pointedly clears her throat does your sister finally obey, straightening to full height with a hand propped on her hip, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. In another life she would have made a fantastic actress in a holovid drama.

“That’s better.” Maar nods, satisfied. “Now why don’t we—”

The Mandalorian moves so quickly that you jerk in anticipation of attack, eyes widening to the size of moons as you watch the pistol fly out of Maar’s hand and straight into his outstretched one. Your lungs seize up, a single thought flashing through your mind. This is it, the moment we all die. 

Except instead of shooting, he re-engages the safety mechanism and promptly holsters the gun at his side where it belonged. Without saying anything.

Ahsoka’s slack-jawed expression would have been comical if it hadn’t matched your own stunned face. Even Maar, who has witnessed over fifty years worth of shocking spectacles, looks awed by the unexpected display. 

You recover first, somehow managing to piece together the right words to ask a coherent question. “Are you a Jedi?”

It is only because you are staring directly at him that you notice the virtually imperceptible tilting of his head. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers bluntly, oblivious to how your heart skips a beat. “Weapons are part of my religion. It’s important to earn their trust.” He addresses Maar then, adding, “Especially if they’re stolen from us.”

His baritone voice has changed from when he spoke on the ship. Without the exhaustion wrapped around his vocal chords you are able to hear his normal timbre. Due to the modulator in his helmet, it has a husky quality, an intriguing mix of smoke and honey. But that is not what has your montrals prickling and your spine straightening. 

“I disarm all my patients,” Maar replies, back to being her cool, calm, and collected self. “I would have given it back—”

“How old are you?” 

You don’t realize you have spoken until two pairs of eyes and an expressionless visor look at you. 

The Mandalorian’s fingers curl and uncurl at his sides once, twice. “Nineteen,” he answers after a few seconds of lapsing silence.

“Oh Ai,” Maar murmurs, vocalizing your own thoughts.

All this time you have been thinking of the Mandalorian as a man beneath the amor. A hardened and seasoned fighter who has seen a lifetime of bloodshed and violence. But the reality is he is only two years older than you. Standing right on that thin, blurry line between being seen as a teenager and being considered an adult. 

“Who are you?” the Mandalorian asks, glancing first at you then your sister and back to Maar. Frustration and wariness blend together, sharpening his voice. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Ahsoka meets your eye with a question in her gaze, one you don’t have the answer for: where do we even begin?

Series Taglist: @pedro4ever​

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @sylphene @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst​ @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin​ @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker​ @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad​ @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @asta-lily  @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @sherala007​ @mejswho​ @uncle-kenobi​​

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART ONE-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. Gif by @stream​

You had no idea how you ended up providing intel for The Boys. You didn’t even know how they managed to find you.

You were a nobody, a nobody who so happened to be very knowledgeable around technology. You hacked into secure companies that were affiliated with The Seven, media outlets, private companies and the like, and gained whatever information you could before passing it on to the leader of The Boys himself, Billy Butcher. He stopped by your apartment at random hours during the day and night, giving you set deadlines to complete certain assignments before he came to retrieve the intel. No one knew who you were. You were so mysterious in fact, that the general public had even given you a name. The Watcher.

Not long after you were given your name, The Seven were notified of your existence. Madelyn Stillwell explained to The Seven that their servers had been hacked, and several files of important information had been taken in a matter of seconds. It was a serious security breach, and Madelyn wanted whoever did this killed. Homelander couldn’t help but agree. He volunteered to personally to do it himself, to a send a message to The Boys. It would be a good publicity stunt. If The Watcher was stopped, then The Boys would lose their only source of information. Plus, the public would love him even more.

But unfortunately for you, you had made a mistake. Vought International traced the IP address to your apartment a few days after your cyber attack, and Homelander was en route within the hour. It was a shitty apartment complex, fitting he supposed, for one who would commit such a crime against him and his colleagues. A huge uproar occurred outside the building, drawing your attention toward the ground floor. When your eyes met the form of the famous superhero waving to the adoring crowd as he entered through the lobby, a string of disgusting curses escaped your lips. There was no point in running, he could catch up easily. There was no point in hiding, the fucker could see through walls. There was nothing you could do except panic internally, and hope that maybe Billy and the others knew about this conundrum.

Before you had another second to think, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, eventually stopping in front of your apartment door. You stood in the centre of your apartment, debating whether or not to open the door and atop that horrendous knocking, or answering Billy’s distress call on your laptop. If you made a run for your laptop, he would know. There was no doubt that the son of a bitch was using his x-ray vision to watch you sweat. He was probably reviling in the fact that he had caught you, and that there was nowhere for you to go. Regretfully and hesitantly, you moved towards the door, steadying your breath before throwing it open. You swallowed thickly as your gaze met Homelander’s blue hues, as he stared down at you with that stupid fake Hollywood smile of his. With his hands braced on his hips in that cliche superhero stance, he pointed accusingly at you, trying to keep up his heroic image as a crowd began to gather in the hall. “You, are one hard person to find Miss L/n...” he began, laughing mockingly as the crowd gathered around your apartment door.

Your eyes flickered around the crowd, some tenants you recognised, others you didn’t. Biting your lips nervously, your shrugged your shoulders as calmly and nonchalantly as you could. “I like to keep it that way...” you responded confidently, holding his gaze despite your growing fear “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”. Homelander grinned, and without saying a word, he pushed past you into your apartment, his eagle shoulder pad deliberately knocking you out of the way. You clenched your jaw, giving the gathered crowd one last warning glare before slamming the door in their faces. You heard several muffled shouts, and hushed voice talking. What could Homelander possibly want with her? What makes her so special?

“So, you are The Watcher?” He spoke tauntingly, folding his arms intimidatingly over his chest as you turned to face him. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nodded slowly, your eyes landing on your laptop screen once again. Billy was still trying to contact you, and it was by sheer dumb luck that the tyrant in front of you didn’t notice. Homelander’s eyes narrowed, glowing a faint red as he approached “You know, you’ve done a very bad thing...” he spoke lowly, moving so close to you that your back hit your apartment door with a loud thump. Homelander could hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest, though your breath came out even and slow. “I want back what you stole from Vought International, now” he growled stepping closer so that there was barely any space left between you. You looked up at the superhero in front of you with a shrug of your shoulders, slipping out of that small space and making your way over to your laptop.

“Sorry, but I don’t have it anymore...” you responded blatantly, pressing the ‘decline’ button to Billy’s call. Homelander’s eyes returned to their normal blue out of shock, as he turned to face you bewilderedly. You leaned against the desk beside your laptop, your head tilted to the side in an almost carefree nature. In a matter a seconds, your demeanour had changed entirely. How? You were just terrified of him...he could hear your heart beating like crazy. “I’m sorry, what?...” he asked in disbelief “where is it then?”. “It’s long gone by now, The Boy’s probably have it now, so I don’t think you’ll be getting it back anytime soon”. How dare you. He was Homelander, the world’s greatest superhero, how dare you, a mere human speak to him this way. Downplaying your words, you watched as Homelander’s expression darkened, before he used his superhuman speed to suddenly appear before you in a burst of wind. You released a sharp cry as Homelander gripped your forearm, using his superhuman strength to apply agonising pressure to your limb. You winced, tears flowing freely from your eyes as he leaned forward, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t even want the information anymore...” he began, tightening his grip which made you release a pained cry “I just want Billy Butcher. Now, I know you have contact with him. If you don’t tell me where he is in the next five seconds, I’m going to break your arm”. You shrieked, trying to pry your arm from his grip to no avail. “Five..” Homelander began, slowly squeezing your arm “four-”

“I don’t know where he is! I’m telling the truth!” “I don’t believe you, three...” He continued, as you screamed for him to let you go. You squirmed, you kicked, you tried anything and everything to get him to let go. “Two...” he whispered tauntingly, no doubt enjoying your pain. You were panicking by now. What could you do? What could you say to get him to believe you? “STOP! He comes by my apartment at random times of the day and night. There isn’t a set schedule, that’s all I know I swear!”. Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound heard was your soft cries as the pain in your forearm became unbearable. But just like that, it disappeared as Homelander released you from his hold. You collapsed to the floor of your apartment, sobbing quietly as you held your arm to your chest. Through your tearful gaze, you could already see your arm starting to bruise, the vibrant red slowly turning to a deep purple.

Heavy footsteps approached as Homelander knelt down before you. Cupping the side of your face with his gloved hand, he lifted your head up to meet his gaze. With a small victorious smile, he spoke authoritatively “Then how about you and I make a little arrangement. I’ll stop by at random times of the day and night as well, that way, I’m bound to catch him at some point right? And when I do, I’ll kill you to set an example. How does that sound?”. You said nothing as Homelander stood up, his touch lingering as a silent promise to his threat. “Oh, and I forgot...” he called out, turning to face you with a smirk “Don’t even think about warning him, I’ll know” he continued, motioning to his ears in reference to his superhuman hearing before walking through your apartment door. As he disappeared through the adoring crowd still gathered outside, you began to sob loudly.

You had never been more terrified in your life. Your arm still hurt like hell as you trudged towards your phone, which had been vibrating non-stop the entire time. There were five missed calls from Billy, and about seven texts, all of them containing a stunning variety of swear words which you didn’t know existed.

‘Answer me damn it, fucking hell woman. What’s going on over there?’

Your hands trembled as you replied, your breath uneven as your heart thundered in your ears.

‘Not safe to talk. He knows’.

[elreyconducto]

conduit crew head canons pre second son !

(Thanks tumblr for not notifying me. Sorry for the lateness!)

Okay, pre-Second Son headcanons! I’ve actually talked about this with someone before, but this was yeeeeears ago, and I’m pretty sure I forgot most of it, lol

Eugene

Our favorite angel kept to himself a lot. His mother was always busy, he rarely saw her. Because of this, he was taken care of pretty much by a dedicated babysitter that soon became one of the few people he really trusted and looked up to in his life. She never looked bored when he told her about his interests and never made fun of him when things made him anxious or scared. She taught him all sorts of hobbies that he had never really been exposed to before: sewing, crocheting, origami, and baking. Although the first two didn’t necessarily stick, origami was something he thought was neat and baking is really what he took to heart. He loved being able to make all sorts of sweets and breads! Cooking, on the other hand, was just not something he had been good at during his childhood and early teen years. 

Could he make a mean cake? Oh, most certainly. Could he be trusted to not to burn his mac n cheese? 50% of the time, no.

His babysitter knew about the bullying at school, and she did her best to help. He had bad social anxiety and general anxiety, so she helped him understand what he had (she had a history of it herself) and did more research to look for ways to manage it that best fit him. She always made sure she checked him over for any injuries when he came home looking like a wilted plant, lent an ear when he needed to rant or vent about his day, or be there ready with tissues or a throw blanket when he needs a good cry. Because she’s not his mother, most of the board at school wouldn’t listen to her when she brought up the bullying, and when she talked about it with Eugene’s mother, the woman brushed it off, saying that her son needed to grow up and learn to stand up for himself. 

When his powers emerged after a particularly bad day of bullying at his school, she worried when she didn’t see him after school. Fretted even more when she didn’t get a text or call from him saying that he was going to be late. She decided to wait just a little longer and turned on the TV to calm her nerves. Unfortunately, that did the exact opposite when she saw Eugene’s face plastered all over the news with his school in the picture and the D.U.P. surrounding the place. 

Bioterrorist Captured at Local High School made her want to vomit, cry, and run out the door. She did the latter of the three with the second quickly encroaching as she shook when she flew to her car. The drive to the school was fruitless and the million calls she sent to his mother weren’t any better.

She sobbed in her car when she finally parked at home. She never heard from Eugene again. (Not until several years later when he was older and standing next to the two resident Conduits who, through the efforts of all three of them, saved Seattle. He was still awkward as ever, but that’s Eugene, she knew.)

Fetch

Fetch’s powers very directly changed her life from a young age. Her family used to be fairly close-knit: her mom helped her with crafts when she got off of work, her dad took her and her brother to music events whenever they popped up in town, and her big brother Brent was the best person ever. When she got a little older, her parents got busier with work. Although they were not neglectful like Eugene’s mom, it was rarer to spend time with them than not. It was during that time, around when she was eleven, that Brent stepped in more to take care of her.

Her powers emerged one day after school. By the time she ran home, she immediately went to Brent, scared out of her mind. Hot, colorful neon wouldn’t dissipate from her hands and she didn’t know what to do and what if they were going to take her away?? She had a history of panic attacks and she was having one right there. Brent knew what to do, and even though he was immensely surprised at her new powers, that was his sister and she needed help. It took over an hour to get her to calm down, but the pink and purple neon eventually faded away. After making sure everything was okay and ordering comfort pizza, they spent the rest of the night talking about her powers—the colors, how it made her feel, trying out what she could do with it.

For a week, it was their secret only between them. After a week of mulling over whether to tell their parents, they decided to tell them on Friday after school when they would be home for a change. Their parents loved them. Surely they would be okay with her powers, right?

Suffice to say, things didn’t go according to plan. Friday was terrible. It met Fetch with four stressful tests, two projects, and girls who would just not leave her alone. As the last bell rang and she wanted to hurry out of the building, feeling her anxiety build, a group of girls cornered her, bullying her. Stress and more anxiety built up and unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her power in. She accidentally hurt one of her classmates.

Her parents found out and called the D.U.P. even after Brent begging them not to. When the D.U.P. came to take her away, Brent had already ran off with Fetch. And as per First Light, they spend five years on the run until his death.

Delsin

(I think a lot about Delsin pre-Second Son. I’ve written about his parents before as well.) Delsin was raised by his mother, Ayasha, and his father, Malcolm, and of course, Betty and the rest of the tribe. Delsin was a relatively happy child, if a little bit all over the place. His mother was an artist and art teacher at one of the local schools and his dad was the sheriff (way before Reggie) and a baseball coach. While Reggie takes after his dad a lot—appearance wise and love of baseball—Delsin takes a lot after his mom. Ayasha was Delsin’s first introduction and biggest influence to art. He loved sitting in the room she used as her studio watching her paint and draw and eventually learning from her.

Of the three Conduits, Delsin most likely had the closest relationship to his parents compared to Fetch and Eugene. They were beyond patient with him as they worked with him when he got diagnosed with mild ADHD, and always supported his interests no matter how messy they got.

After they died, Reggie and Delsin were…not alright, to say the least. Reggie, a little older, was able to take it a little better, but being left to take care of his little brother mostly by himself (even though Betty and the tribe did help) made him so stressed and scared. Delsin, being younger, wasn’t able to processes it as easy. His mourning turned into a long depression, affecting several facets of his life. Although his grades were in the B – C range, he was struggling heavily in school as his grades dropped. He couldn’t focus. Looking at his mom’s studio and art supplies 9/10 times made him cry. He didn’t talk much anymore. His art suffered. Eventually, he could navigate being nonverbal for a while by drawing out what he was feeling, but even that took a long time.

Once he began to heal after a few years’ time, he was able to talk more and more. He was in a better place mentally and started to pick his art back up in a more serious fashion. He had a lot of feelings and a lot of time on his hands. That, coupled with research into new art inspirations, led him to street art. Non-authoritarian street art, specifically. His later teen years were rich with this, much to Reggie’s chagrin and dislike.

Throughout his life, he managed several long periods of depression. Talking with Reggie and a therapist, he realized that was going to be something he would be dealing with for the rest of his life. It made him feel a lot of emotions, but he was never judged over it. Not from Reggie, not ever.

He lived a mostly normal life as the resident delinquent artist up until the D.U.P. transport truck crashed on Akomish land. 

[fenristheorem]

Hi!! I love how you write Lance🥰! I'd like to request how he would react to the first hug Gardienne gives him. I feel he hasn't been touched in a while, so a cuddle could make his heart go pitter-patter🥺

It doesn't have to be when they're dating, just after a while she woke up, he saves her and she's thankful and hugs him out of the blue

Thank you so much! 😄

I agree, I don’t think Lance has had any kind of affectionate physical touch in a long while. I actually wrote another headcanon about Lance with a really touchy Guardienne where I talked a bit about how I thought Lance would react to the first time she touched him (in that case it wasn’t a hug - so while it’s a good description of how he’ll feel, it’s still a bit different). That one is written with them as a couple, but it doesn’t really effect too much in the beginning, so I would highly recommend checking that out as well!

Due to how specific this ask was (and because the other ask was in headcanon format) I decided to write this as a short-story/scenario.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne suddenly hugging him after he saves her:

Huang Hua realized in time that, no matter who she sent with her on missions, Guardienne would still get hurt. Guardienne believes this is a curse - she’s forever deemed to go on a mission with hopes and ambitions, only to be sent back being carried on the shoulder of a friend and find herself re-awakening in the Infirmary. However, she still needs to go on missions. She was one of the two saviors of Eldarya, and a functioning member of the guard again - she can’t just sit around and do nothing every day.

So Huang Hua decided to send Lance with her. If anyone from the guard could keep her safe, it was Lance.

This, of course, was met with a bit of backlash by Guardienne, but it’s been a while since her reawakening and accepting that Lance is now working with the guard again, so she puts up minimal fight. That and the fact that she’s tired of being a human test dummy for the nurses to find new ways to heal her wounds (they don’t actually do this, but they might as well at this point).

And that’s how they find themselves in the middle of the woods together. Alone.

Lance knows that she’s still a bit uncomfortable with him around, and he doesn’t blame her, but he hopes that she’ll trust him to protect her if it comes down to that. He’s determined to not let anything threaten them in the first place; he’s keeping a sharp eye and ear out for their surroundings, but he’s aware that her track record shows that something always goes wrong eventually. Certainly all the members of the Obsidian guard couldn’t be that incompetent, not with Lance biting their heels when they slack off, so it’s just a matter of time...

“Take a left... by the curved tree... a trail in the mud...”

Lance’s ice blue eyes flick over to watch Guardienne as she mutters and treads her way along the forest path. She’s picking around carefully, searching for something on the ground, but Lance recognized immediately that the dirt here is far too hard to show any prints that she’s looking for. The proper landscape for that would still be another half hour’s walk if he remembers this part of the forest correctly.

“I should have asked Huang Hua for more specific directions...” Guardienne softly hisses her discontent as she stops walking and looks around for a moment.

Lance takes this moment to walk past her, setting a steady pace instead of her meandering as he follows the trail through the forest.

“Lance?” She asks as he passes by.

“You won’t find any tracks in the mud here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ground here is too hard. If there are tracks in the mud then they’ll be in a muddy area, not here where the land is hard.”

Guardienne pauses for a moment.

“I don’t know, everything is sort of muddy after the rain.” She sighs, then screeches; “So wait, you knew the whole time that we weren’t in the right area!? What the hell, Lance!?”

Not again with this, Lance thinks. The last time she was angry at him he was punched in the face and gained a new scar on his hand.

“You told me you were sent to find tracks in the forest that may be from an animal from your world, you never told me that they were in the mud.” He did his best to keep his voice steady, but he doesn’t know how she expected him to help her in any way when she doesn’t explain the details.

“You could have asked for more detail...” She quickly simmered down to a prickly mutter. 

“True, however, Huang Hua only sent me to protect you considering your record-” “Don’t remind me of my record!” “-so I’m here to escort you, not help you. I’ve been too busy watching our surroundings to scour the ground looking for prints. Now please be quiet so I can listen for anything.”

Guardienne quiets and Lance wonders for a moment if he was too harsh; she was well aware of why he was sent with her, and it wouldn’t really hurt to help her a little bit... But I shouldn’t go asking to distract myself, my orders are to protect her, Lance thinks. Regardless, he was still a bit nippy at her. This was an uncomfortable situation for him, and although him and Guardienne can get along, they do have days where they can do nothing but feud, and in those days, feuding with each other can make up the whole day.

He stops in his tracks and sighs, turning around to face her. She nearly runs into him as she focuses on the ground, possibly lost in thought, but quickly comes back to and stops a foot away from Lance. Her eyes meet Lance’s cool gaze as he studies her.

“The tracks should be somewhere around here, the terrain here is soft enough so they could be easily seen by a passerby.” Lance says in a gentler tone, turning his gaze off of her to begin his watch of their surroundings.

She starts to walk past him and then stops for a moment, half turned back to him.

“Ehm... thanks.”

His gaze flicks to her for a moment and he nods his head before scanning the forest again.

Many minutes pass - a twig cracks somewhere deep in the forest. Lance snaps his head in the direction and focuses on the area it came from. Just a small creature scuttling around.

“Ah!” 

Lance nearly draws his sword as he turns and lunges in the direction Guardienne is in, only to nearly trip over her as she crouches to look at something.

“Would you mind making another noise of surprise next time!? I thought something was attacking you!” Lance hisses as he regains his balance.

Guardienne looks up at him, eyes wide in surprise as she wasn’t expecting him to be so jumpy.

“I’m sorry... you don’t need to be so tense though...”

“With your record? Yes, I do.”

“Stop talking about my record or I’ll give you a pretty scar on your other hand to match the first!”

“It’s more likely for a Boltue to sprout wings and fly.” Guardienne continues to curse at him as he carries on, crouching down next to her. “Are these the prints you’re looking for?”

She glares at him and huffs before turning her gaze back to the tracks.

“Yes, they look like prints from a dog, maybe a wolf.”

“Anything of concern?”

“If it’s a domesticated dog then probably no, they’re like the companions we have here. Wolves might be more of a concern. They’re predatory animals about the size of a Fenrisulfr but generally stay away from humans. Being in a different world could change their temperament though...” Guardienne traced the prints with her fingers, worry lacing the expression on her face.

“Let’s head back then, if it’s a possible concern we need to notify to guard as soon as possible.”

“You want to lead the way? If you’re so jumpy then maybe you can jump into a thorn bush on the way back-” But as Guardienne continues her rant, Lance tunes her out and raises his head, briskly scanning the forest around them with a cold, focused gaze. He could have sworn...

A thump of paws and a roar is all he has in warning as a Warrifang leaps from the bushes.

Guardienne’s rave is cut off by a short scream as it lunges for her, but just as it’s about to reach her Lance throws his weight against the feral creature and slams it to the ground with a grunt. It retaliates with a screech and snapping jaws at his throat, pushing against him with all it’s might and managing to loosen his hold enough to shove him off.

The Warrifang lunges for Lance this time, and he only has seconds to bring his forearm up so the Warrifang’s teeth can meet the metal guard on his arm instead of soft flesh. Lance reaches for his dagger and grips the hilt, slashing outward and catching the Warrifang’s shoulder. It yelps, flailing backwards before lunging for him again. However, Lance is already crouched, sword in hand, and charges the beast. He gets one more hit - a light wound across the top of it’s neck as it ducks it’s head - before it yelps again and flees back into the forest. 

Lance spares only a second’s glance at Guardienne to assure she’s alright before his gaze follows the Warrifang as it flees into the forest, straining to hear if there are any more signs of a possible threat that may try an ambush after the scuffle. After a good few moments with no other sounds, Lance turns to look at Guardienne’s condition, who’s staring at him from a few feet away with an astonished expression.

“You alright?” He needs to know if he managed to do his job properly. Surely she must be alright - he completely intercepted the Warrifang.

“Yea, I’m alright...” She murmurs. Lance begins to strap his sword and dagger back into their leather holds at his waist. “I’m sorry...”

He looks back up at her, minor confusion written on his face.

“I’m not being very pleasant... but you didn’t do anything to provoke me. And I ridiculed you for not helping me on my mission when you were told to watch my back. So thank you, and I’m sorry...” Guardienne spoke quietly as she averted her gaze.

Lance looks away from her as well, studying the arm guard that the Warrifang bit down on. Perhaps Ewelein could run a few tests on the saliva...

His thoughts scattered when he felt two arms wrap around his torso, pulling a soft, smaller figure into him. He jerked his head back a bit, looking at Guardienne in surprise as she rested her head lightly on his chest and leaned into him.

“Thank you...” It was spoken so soft he thought he’d imagined it.

Lance froze for a moment, awkwardly standing with his arms half-way raised as she settled in before he found her warmth to be... comforting. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his arms down and around her shoulders and waist, pressing her just a bit closer.

He nearly cried at how welcoming it felt.

When was the last time he hugged someone? When was the last time someone actually touched him with non-violent intentions?

Lance bit his lip and held his breath for a moment, fighting every urge that told him to nuzzle into her shoulder and lean against her, and resigned to locking his muscles as to not move any further. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her in this moment; not when she was gracing him with such a wonderful gesture that he hadn’t felt in years. In her arms, just for this moment, he felt truly calm and content. It felt like laying down for the night after a long day of labor that left him with aching muscles. 

Of course, this moment was also gone too soon. Within the same minute, Guardienne pulled away from him - he could swear that she was hesitant while doing so - and refused to meet his gaze and she turned and drifted down the trail back towards the guard.

“We should probably head back, Ewelein and Huang Hua will be thrilled to hear that everything went well.” Her voice was steady but the downturn in her tone told of dismay.

Lance wondered in minor panic, for a moment, if she could feel how strong his reaction to that hug was, but he couldn’t focus much on that with the loneliness that was creeping back into his heart again. Hollow... so, so hollow now that he’s alone again...

He started down the path after her, reminding himself to stay alert - the Warrifang could always come back - but he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about that hug for weeks, months even. And as much as he enjoyed it, he almost wished it never happened. How can he return to the routine of his isolated life after being so wonderfully embraced?

~I hope you enjoyed! I’ll admit, I’m quite pleased with this one! I feel this is a good showcase of my writing. Perhaps I’ll work on writing a few un-asked short stories after the rest of the asks are done.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Types of kisses with Yoongi

First kiss

Yoongi loved that on your dates with him you were okay just staying in, watching movies, or having him cook for you. He was a homebody and preferred to stay home where you two could speak freely and enjoy each other’s company without the fear of him being recognized and the two of you getting mobbed. Today he had invited you to his studio to listen to a preview of a new song for his mixtape. You were honored. You knew how special this place was to him and the fact that he trusted you enough to not only bring you here, but also let you hear a new song? You knew that day that he must be serious about you and it filled your heart with warmth.

You knocked on his door and he answered almost immediately, almost as if he was waiting for you. 

“Were you waiting for me Min Yoongi?” You tease him and he blushes and scratches the back of his head. 

“Um, maybe. I’m just really happy to see you.” He reaches his hand out and holds yours tightly and you squeeze it back. He leads you in to sit on the chair next to his own. “I ordered a pizza for us it should be here soon. I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s more than okay with me! Thank you, Yoongi.” You smile at him and he offers a small smile back. 

“Of course. That’s one of the things I really like about you is that you’re just so... agreeable. I love that from day 1 you were just okay having dates in and not needing to go anywhere fancy.”

“Of course not. You don’t need to impress me, Yoongi. I just like being with you.” Your smile grows as does his and you see him glancing at your lips. He moves in as if he’s going to kiss you before his phone rings from the delivery person notifying him of their arrival. He nearly jumps away from you, face bright red as he gets up to get the food for you two. When he comes back he sets it down on the desk. 

“Well, you ready to listen to it?”

“I’d love to!” You listen to the song and immediately feel a whole slew of emotions hitting you. Sadness, initially, but then the melody moves to sound more hopeful. And like better days are coming. Even without lyrics, Yoongi somehow manages to portray the emotions of his song through the instruments alone. The song ends and you sit there for a few moment absorbing everything, He gets a little nervous thinking maybe you didn’t like it. He knew something was missing, and was hoping a fresh set of ears would help him know what was missing. 

“So what do you think?”

“It’s amazing. Really I don’t even know what to say. You can really feel the emotions you are trying to show in the song and you can tell that you put your whole heart into it.”

“You don’t think there’s anything... missing? When I listen to it I think it just sounds off but I don’t know what it could be.” That surprises you. The fact that Yoongi genuinely wants your opinion and help when you have no idea about producing music. 

“You want my input?”

“Yes. You’re really smart and I trust your judgment.” You feel your cheeks heating up and you ask him to play it again. You really listen this time and think you have an idea. 

“Why don’t you add some piano here?”

“The middle bit here?”

“Yeah! Maybe like...” You hum a little part of a melody that seemed to get stuck in your head after listening to the song. 

“Oh that actually is a great idea.” Yoongi pulls out his keyboard and plays the notes before adding it into the song. You watch him mixing and just can’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He’s so focused on his music, and so excited and passionate about it and you can’t help but hold so much admiration and respect in your heart for him. So you take a leap and lean in and kiss his cheek. Yoongi freezes, hand hovering over the keyboard as he turns to look at you. His face is bright red. 

“Y-you just kissed me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you looked adorable and you’re really passionate about your music and I just got an overwhelming urge to kiss you.”

“Do it again. But properly this time.” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and brings you back in to plant a kiss on your lips. It’s over all too soon for your liking and you chase after his lips for another one. He playfully taps your lips with his finger. “We have plenty of time for that sweetheart, let’s not rush it okay? I want to take my time with you because I really like you. And to be honest this is all really new to me. I’ve never developed strong feelings for someone as quickly as I have for you and it scares me a little.” You kiss his cheek again instead. 

“Okay, Yoongi. We’ll go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” 

“Thank you, angel.” 

Lazy kisses

“Baby come on, you gotta get up! You’ve hit the snooze button 3 times and if I have to hear that god awful alarm you have one more time I am personally yanking you out of this bed.” Yoongi scolds. You groan loudly and turn your alarm off, but your eyes flutter closed again.  “That’s it.” You feel a finger dig into your ribs and you yelp loudly and squirm away from him. 

“Okay okay! I’ll get up...eventually.” You roll over onto your back and feel your eyes start to droop closed again. You are almost back in dream land when you feel your boyfriend’s lips on your own. Well that definitely wakes you up. You let your lips move slowly against his. You’ll never get tired of his kisses. You completely melt and soon Yoongi pulls away and practically collapses on top of you. 

“I changed my mind you’re staying home today.” 

“Yoongi I have to go to work.”

“I mean... you’re already going to be late can’t you just call off? Tell them you had car trouble?”

“I can’t lie to my boss!” 

“Then I will for you.”

“Yoongi don’t-” But before you can stop him he has your phone out and is calling your boss. You can hear the conversation as he has it on speaker. 

“Y/n! It’s almost time for you to be here is everything okay?”

“Ah this is Mister Min, from Min’s auto repair shop. Y/n’s car broke down on the way to work and we’re currently doing repairs. It could take a while so I don’t know that they’ll be able to make it in. They asked me to call you because they were afraid you wouldn’t believe them.”

“Oh goodness of course I would believe y/n! They’re one of my best employees. Tell y/n not to worry about it and just come in tomorrow! It’s no trouble.”

“Alright. Thank you ma’am.” He hangs up the phone and you immediately burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe that worked!”

“I can’t believe it did either to be honest. But I am glad it did because now I can spend the whole day with you.” You smile and lay on your side to face him. Yoongi places his hand on your hip and scoots closer to you, connecting your lips again. He kisses you deeply, letting his lips linger there for a few moments before he pulls away.

“I could spend all day kissing you.”

“Well now you can. You got me for the whole day.” You say with a smile. Yoongi places a peck on your lips. 

“Best day.”

Heated kisses

“Yoongi? Can you come here for a minute please? I need your opinion on something.”

“Sure thing, angel!”

The both of you had went shopping and you wanted Yoongi’s opinion on a pair of jeans you were trying on. Were you purposefully trying to tease him? Absolutely. You knew your butt looked amazing in them and you wanted to see his reaction. He knocks on the fitting room door and you open it, turning around and looking over your shoulder.

“So what do you think? Should I get the-” Before you can finish your sentence his hands are on your shoulders spinning you around and a firm kiss is placed on your lips. His lips moves against your own as he backs you further into the fitting room. He keeps walking until your back is against the mirror. You let out a gasp at the cold feeling of it against your arms and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and intertwine yours with his. His hands move to slip under your shirt and rest at your hips while yours immediately go to his hair and give a light tug, knowing that it drives him crazy in the best way. You feel his breath coming in quick pants as he moves from your mouth to ghost his lips down your neck before stopping at your collarbones. He bites it harshly and you know there’s going to be a mark there. Not that you mind. You love showing off the little bite marks he leaves on you.

He pulls away with a satisfied smirk on his face before diving back in to capture your lips again. You’re trying your best to be quiet so you don’t get caught but when he grinds his hips against yours a breathy moan escapes. He immediately pulls away. His hair is a mess from where you fingers were pulling at it, his lips are red and swollen and you’re certain you must be in the same condition. He offers you a small smile before reaching out and smoothing out your hair and straightening your shirt. 

“Um... Sorry I kind of got a little carried away. I’ve been wanting to do that all day because you always look so sexy and beautiful but something about those pants just... yeah.” He’s blushing and unable to meet your gaze now and you can’t help but giggle.

“Feel free to get carried away whenever you want Yoongi if you’re going to kiss me like that. And I am definitely buying the pants.”

Sweet kisses

You two were laying in bed together watching a movie. But you didn’t notice Yoongi wasn’t watching the movie at all, his attention was fully on you. Every little facial expression, every time you smiled or laughed, he felt his heart flutter. You two had been together for a year now and still he got butterflies like the very first time he met you. He moves his hand across the bed and laces your fingers together. You finally turn to him and notice him staring at you with the fondest expression. 

“Everything okay?”

You always asked him that. Always checking in just to let him know that you were always there for him and just wanted him to be happy. He appreciated it more than you know. He smilies to help calm your nerves. 

“Yes everything is fine, my love. It’s just... you’re beautiful you know that?” 

He’s told you this before but something feels different this time and it makes your cheeks flush. 

“I think I’ve been told that a time or two.” 

“Just by me though right?” A few chuckles escape you. 

“Yes, Yoongi only by you. Well, only by you in a romantic way at least. The other members have too but you know they don’t mean anything by it.”

“Good. As they should tell you. Still can’t believe the most beautiful person in the world is actually mine.” 

“Mmm I think you’re mistaking that’s you. And I won’t take any arguments for an answer.” He opens his mouth to protest but you quickly lean in and press a kiss to his lips instead. He immediately forgets what he was going to say as his mind and senses are suddenly filled with you. He pulls away to pepper kisses all over your cheeks, to your forehead, your eye lids, and tip of your nose and finally ending up at your lips again. He lingers there for a moment before he mumbles against your lips. 

“Marry me.” You place your hands on his cheeks to pull his face away from you. You look into his eyes to see if he’s serious and he is. 

“Are you for real? You really want to marry me?”

“Yes. I am being serious. Of course I want to marry you. I don’t want a big wedding with a ton of people there. I just want it to be me and you. We can have a ceremony later and invite all our friends and family but... for right now I don’t want to wait. I want you to be Min Y/n and I want to start our life together.”  You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You don’t trust yourself to speak without bursting into tears so you just nod. The smile that you see on Yoongi’s face is what breaks you and finally allows a few tears to escape. He looks the happiest you’ve ever seen him, and knowing that just the thought of spending the rest of his life with you making him that happy makes you feel so many positive emotions at once they leak out in the form of tears. Yoongi is quick to kiss them all away, kissing your cheeks whenever one falls down your face until you’re smiling again. 

“Okay. Let’s do it then. I don’t want to wait either. I already know I want to spend my forever with you.”

Wedding kiss

True to his word, a few days later here you were. Standing with Yoongi at the park where you two first met. It was night time, Yoongi had always said he wanted to marry you under the stars because he thought you looked beautiful and absolutely ethereal bathed in moonlight. He knew someone that was licensed to marry so after everything was in order you two immediately planned the day you would go. It was quite late, not a single soul was there and it felt like you three were the only people left in the world. You both didn’t dress up, wearing jeans and the comfiest sweaters you owned. Yoongi had insisted you wear his jacket because it was getting chilly outside. He was even wearing a beanie and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you. He raises his eyebrow at you in question.

“It’s just... all of this is so very you. Very us. Eloping and getting married under the stars, no fancy clothes or rings. Just the two of us and our love for each other and the world at our feet.” Yoongi smiles at that and leans in to kiss you but the minister scolds him. 

“No kissing until the vows!” You both look away sheepishly and giggle under your breaths. 

“Alright I guess I’ll start then.” Yoongi says. “I write lyrics for a living and here I am at a loss for words and have no idea what to say. I’m just so happy that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Like holy shit how did I manage to pull that one off. You’re perfect in every way and so so good to me. You stuck by me through all the bad times, and I know there were some really bad ones. But you never lost your temper with me, you were always patient and kind and supportive through everything so I guess just... thank you. Really. And I just love you. That’s really all there is to say.” You hear the nervousness but also the sincerity in his words so you give his hands a squeeze to help comfort him. “Um.. I know I didn’t bring a ring because this was all kind of fast but I am getting one for you. It’s just going to take a little while because I want it to be perfect but hopefully this will do for now.” He bends down and picks a small purple flower off the ground. The weather had only just started to get colder so some of the flowers were still blooming. He loops the stem around your finger and ties it together. It’s such a sweet thing for him to do and you can’t help but place a kiss on the back of his hand before saying your vows.

“Yoongi you’ve always known I’ve never needed grand gestures to show your love, or songs written about me although the ones you did write I absolutely adore and will cherish forever. I can see you love me in the way you look at me, in the way you take care of me and always make sure I am happy. When you tell me you love me, I hear the sincerity in your voice. And I can only hope in the time we’ve been together that I was able to give you just as much love to you as you’ve made me feel. And you’re right. The only thing really to say is that I love you.”

The minster claps his hand together. “Perfect! I now pronounce you both officially married. Go ahead and kiss y/n, Yoongi. And congratulations to the both of you.”

Yoongi wastes no time in tugging you towards him and finally connecting your lips. His hands cup your face and he kisses you so tenderly and gently, almost as if he’s afraid you’re going to break. You two stay like that for quite some time, although when he pulls away it still doesn’t feel like long enough. 

“Holy shit we’re married.” He says with wide eye and surprise on his face. You giggle at his bewildered expression. 

“Yes we are.”

“I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, Yoongi.” 

[brywrites]

Ghosts That We Knew II

Part II: In which Spencer Reid asks her a series of personal questions and she is forced to face a personal nightmare.

[Series Masterlist] [Previous]

..

Hotch and JJ announce that it’s clear Y/F/N Y/L/N has no knowledge of what has been happening in Roanoke. They’ll offer her basic protective measures and be in touch if they need her assistance. So it’s back to reviewing the case files and setting up a timeline to work off of. But as Reid heads out of the roundtable room, he sees her sitting out in the bullpen, looking so lost. Her coat draped over her shoulders, hugging her backpack close to her chest as she glances around the room. It’s not at all the reaction he expected from someone he’s always thought of as a potential profiler – to seem so out of place in the BAU.

Before he can think better of it, he’s standing next to her holding out a paper cup. “Coffee?” he asks.

“Um… sure, yeah. Thank you, um…”

“Dr. Reid,” he reminds her.

“Right. Dr. Reid. Thank you.” She takes the cup from his hand. “I was hoping you might be Agent Anderson. I’m waiting for him to bring by some paperwork.”

“Anderson? He just left for lunch.” Her face falls. “But, uh, I could help you with that, if that’s okay? The forms are pretty fast, it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I’d really appreciate that. I need to get back to the District in time for work later.”

Reid rushes back to pull some forms from Anderson’s desk – he won’t mind, he never does – and returns seconds later to take a seat in the chair beside her. “So Miss Y/L/N, the first form is just basic contact information so we can reach out to you. So let’s see – name, Y/F/N Y/L/N

“Y/N,” she interrupts. “Everyone just calls me Y/N. You can too – all this Miss Y/L/N makes me feel like I’m being interrogated.”

“Of course,” he says. “Y/N.” He asks her for her phone number, her address, her place of employment and emergency contact, all of which she gives. “Right now we’ll just ensure there’s an agent on-call at the DC office for you,” Reid explains, handing her one of the forms. “If you call that number on the top someone will come to get you as soon as possible. And if a 9-1-1 call is placed from your phone, we’ll be notified as well. If anything changes and you need a higher level of security, our team will help coordinate that with you – thought right now, we don’t anticipate that.”

“Great. Thank you.”

Reid pauses, then says, “Miss – ah, Y/N, sorry. Could I – could I ask you a personal question?”

She laughs, talking a sip of her coffee. “Weren’t all of those personal questions?”

He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, yes, yes I suppose they were. But I… well, I’ve read about you. How your tips led to the arrest of Brock Peters and Todd Anderson. How you had suspicions they were involved before the police ever did, how you read up on profiling yourself – and well, I always wondered – I mean, everyone always thought you would end up at the Bureau eventually.”

Her smile fades. “You and everyone else, Dr. Reid.”

“I just don’t understand,” he says. “What you did was remarkable, to be at the center of solving two cases like that. And at your age? I don’t understand why you didn’t go into criminology. You sort of disappeared.”

“There was nothing remarkable about it,” she scoffs. Y/N clutches her coffee a little tighter, her hands a neat circle around the Styrofoam. “I was unlucky, that’s all. I had the misfortune to grow up in proximity to two terrible people, and somehow ended up tangled up in both of their messes. You have no idea what it was like. I never wanted to fight monsters. It was never something I chose for myself. Unlike you.”

Sometimes Reid wonders if he ever chose this life for himself. When he tries to retrace the pattern of choices that led him to this place, it’s so hard to make sense of it. There was pressure, there was a sense of duty, there was his own past and his own fears. And somehow through it all, he ended up here. But the edge in her voice and the unmistakable shift in her body language tells him this is not a conversation she wants to have.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Um, if I might ask, what do you do?”

“I work part-time at the National Gallery,” she says. “And I’m in a Master’s program at George Washington. English. My focus is on poetry.” Her smile appears once more, and it seems that for now, at least, he is forgiven. Her phone buzzes and she glances at the screen. “I really do need to get going through. Is there anything else I need to fill out?”

“No, that should be it. If we have any updates or any questions for you, we’ll be in touch.”

She stands, slipping her coat back on and slinging her backpack over one shoulder. The light catches on a gold pendant that hangs around her neck, a tiny shimmering star in the center. “And what should I do if I have any questions?”

She looks at him with those wide eyes, and he fumbles in the pocket of his suit jacket for a business card. “If you need anything and it’s not an emergency, just call this number. It’s um, it’s my number technically, but if I’m not around someone else on the team will answer. Or if you’d prefer to speak to someone else I can get you their number or-”

“This will be fine. Thank you again, Dr. Reid.”

And the woman he’s known only in stories walks through the glass double doors. He wants to say he hopes to see her soon, because there are so many questions he still wants to ask, so many things about that case he still wants to understand. But he knows that the next time he sees her will mean there is another body, and that’s not something he wants to wish for anytime soon. So he hopes it will be a long, long time before he sees her again.

But in spite of all his best intentions, before he leaves for work that day, Hotch is summoning them back into the roundtable room.

||

The Gallery is usually a place of refuge for Y/N. Perhaps there is something about spending her days wrapped up in words and imagination that makes tangible imagery feel so special. Art and poetry, she supposes, aren’t all that dissimilar. Just different mediums of expressing that which cannot otherwise be expressed. She likes being surrounded by beauty. She likes the quiet, reverent atmosphere. She likes answering questions from visitors and looking at them as they look at art. But today she is itching to leave work. When the clock hits four and her shift is over, she rushes to leave, and it feels like the Metro moves to slowly, like she can’t get through the subway or the streets fast enough. Everywhere she goes she feels exposed. She hasn’t felt this way in years and she blames them – the men behind bars who still hold that power over her. And the man – she’s positive it is a man, after all – who is out there, taunting her with their memories.

The carpet muffles the hurried thumps of her footsteps as she races down the hallway to her apartment door, fumbling with her keys in the lock.

“Hey heyyy,” Meera sings from the living room sofa she’s currently reclining on. Only her feet are visible, dangling over the arm of the couch. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugs out of her coat, hanging it up in the closet. She undoes the laces of her boots as she tries to steady her breathing. “Hey, um, we need to talk.”

Meera groans. “Oh no, is that about pineapple-sauce pasta? Because I totally promise to never again take a recipe suggestion from a vegan fashion magazine, I swear. Lesson learned.”

“What? No, not it’s not about that.”

“Well then what’s on your mind?” Meera sits up on the couch and stares at her. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean, in a manner of speaking,” Y/N sighs. “One need not be a chamber to be haunted.” In this life she’s found people are haunted far more than places ever could be. She navigates the maze of potted plants in their living room to sit beside Meera on the couch. “I should have told you this sooner, but I wanted to talk face to face.”

“What happened? You only quote Dickenson when you’re serious.”

She’s been dreading this conversation all day. Not for fear of Meera’s reaction – Meera is her closest friend, and the best roommate she could have hoped for. After college, she was afraid her past would be too much to unpack onto anyone, but DC rents made living alone an improbable dream. An online roommate match through the university had put them together after three other potential roommates turned her down. After text introductions, Y/N had decided to come clean, dishing out what had always ended up being dealbreakers.

“I’m kind of uh, famous in a way? Or rather, infamous,” she’d told Meera over a Skype call.

“What are you like an influencer? Former child star?” Meera had laughed.

“Are you familiar with the Salem Stalker?”

Meera’s jaw had dropped. But she took it all in stride as Y/N explained the nightmares and the panic attacks and the occasional true-crime junkie who recognized her. And in the end she’d smiled and said, “Well I’m always sleeping through my alarms anyways. So maybe we’ll be the perfect team.”

And from that moment on she knew they would be friends, a belief that has only proven more true with time. Meera was the first person who wasn’t bothered by her rituals or the mood she got in around the anniversary of Clarissa’s death, and she’s become the only person beyond Dixie or her therapist she’s felt comfortable confiding in about the things that still haunt her.

“Meera, the FBI came to talk to me today.”

Meera raises her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me either of those bastards are up for parole.”

“No. No, they’re not. But um – girls are going missing again. There’s someone recreating Todd’s crimes in Salem. Like leaving stuff behind and everything. And uh, they left a picture of me a Clare. With my name circled. So the FBI thinks that maybe they um, they might want to get my attention or something.”

“Oh my god.”

Y/N clasps a shaking hand around her necklace. “I might have to answer some questions for them while they investigate. And they’re assigning me a protective detail. It’s pretty basic for now, but I’m gonna share the number with you, just in case anything weird happens when I’m not home. I want you to be safe.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Meera insists. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N curls her legs underneath her. “I don’t know. I feel like I can’t escape it. Like no matter how hard I try to move on, that’s the thing that defines me. I’m always going to be the girl that got away. That girl with the ghosts and the public panic attacks.” Outside the window, lights are coming on in the apartments surrounding them, streetlamps flickering to life. Deep down she feels guilty, too. She can’t help but wonder, as she often does, if this is her fault for trying to escape what happened. Perhaps she doesn’t deserve the peace she so desperately craves. Perhaps this is all happening because she’s been too happy lately, too comfortable. She is alive while Clarissa and so many others are dead.

Meera frowns. “All of that shit is what happened to you. It’s not who you are, Y/N.” She grabs her friend’s hand. “Listen, I know you. You’re thoughtful and good. You’ve got a pocketful of poetry and a good heart and you always have the right words at the right time. You were the only person who didn’t think I was crazy for dropping out of my Masters program to pursue my dream job.”

“To be fair you’re the only roommate I’ve had who doesn’t think I’m crazy for waking up screaming in the middle of the night,” Y/N counters.

Meera waves her comment away with her hand. “Because you’re not. Tell me the Hafiz poem I like again. The one about the sun and the moon.”

“Even after all this time / the Sun / never says / the Earth / “You owe me.” / Look what happens with / a love like that. / It lights the whole sky,” she recites.

Meera leans in, smiling. “And that’s what our friendship is, stargirl. You don’t owe me anything and you don’t have to worry about this being too much for me. You bring light into my life. So I want you to be happy, and I’m sure Clare would want that for you, too.”

Y/N smiles, shaking her head. Meera always knows how to make her feel better. But her words only reach so far this time. She leans in to give her roommate a hug. And for just a second, she feels safe in the arms of a friend.

“I know? How about I go get us takeout from that Thai place and pick up a bottle of wine and we can watch whatever movie you want when I get back?”

YN agrees and Meera dashes out the door with promises of an evening of self-indulgence soon to come. Alone in the apartment, she walks to her bedroom. It’s a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The walls are covered in photographs and art prints from the Gallery’s gift shop and carefully printed pages of her favorite poems. On one wall is a large bookshelf, primarily filled with her favorite poetry collections – Baudelaire, Oliver, Dickenson, Rumi, Raab, Eliot, Whitman, Brooks, Lorde, Plath, Neruda, Ginsberg, Collins – and plenty of her favorite prose books. Next to the shelf there’s a box of vinyls underneath a tiny end table upon which a blue record player sits. String lights hang from the ceiling and a number of tiny, vibrant green plants and succulents are poised on shelves and surfaces, gifts from Meera from over the years.

She takes a seat at her desk, pulls her laptop from her backpack, and tries to focus on her thesis. The green library lamp illuminates the pages of the book beside her, margins filled with scribbled notes. But she can’t help but glance out the window from time to time, wondering if Meera is okay. What if she’s in danger too? She doesn’t think her heart can stand the possibility of losing another friend. With a sigh she shuts the laptop and buries her head in her hands. She wonders how long it will take this time to feel safe again.

Soon enough though, Meera is back with warm food and white wine and a pint of ice cream, and as they sit on the couch watching Roman Holiday and laughing, she feels the weight of the past lift the slightest bit. When night falls and she’s alone in her bed, plaid fleece blanket pulled up to her chin, it returns. And then, in the morning, it quite literally comes knocking as she’s stepping out of the shower.

“Meera, did you order Postmates for breakfast again?” she asks, running into her bedroom to change.

“Not this time! Maybe it’s Amber? I’ll get it,” Meera says. Even if it’s just Meera’s girlfriend coming by to surprise her, clothes will be necessary. Y/N pulls on a pair of jeans and a thick turtleneck, throwing her damp hair into a bun just in time to hear her roommate beckoning. “Y/N! There’s two beautiful people looking for you!”

She rushes out into the living room only to find herself face to face with the blonde agent and the tall man with the sharp cheekbones. The latter’s face is tinged with pink as he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Agents,” she says, hoping Meera will get the hint. “Has something happened?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Agent Jareau replies. “Could we come in Y/L/N?”

Seeing no way around it, she agrees and the three of them stand awkwardly in the living room. Dr. Reid can’t seem to help but stare at the many plants arranged around them, but his partner presses on.

“The body of the third victim was discovered yesterday in a ditch not far outside of Salem.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/N says, in as neutral a voice as she can muster. It’s happening again. It’s happening again and again and again.

“We’ve been invited in by local law enforcement to examine the crime scene and help construct a preliminary profile. We’d like you to come with us.”

“Why?”

“You know the area and the case better than anyone,” Dr. Reid says, finding his voice once more. “You might be able to help identify discrepancies between the behaviors of Anderson and our unsub. And conducting cognitive interviews with you could help us identify details that local law enforcement may not have picked up on.” When she says nothing, he adds, “And… we might be able to afford you better protection while you’re with us. That is to say, it might be safer.”

“It’s your choice, of course,” Agent Jareau tells her. The words feel hollow. She never had a choice in any of this. It’s all been one long string of events she’s found herself tangled in that has led to this exact conversation, this exact choice. “But if you chose to come with us, we’d need to leave right away.”

“How long would this take?”

“Three days at most. We’ll be back by Monday morning,” says Dr. Reid. The last thing she wants is to spend three days in Salem with FBI agents, but someone out there is attacking women. And somewhere out there, someone is mourning their sister, their daughter, their friend. She has the chance to help spare someone else the grief she’s known. So the choice is clear.

She packs a duffel bag with a few pairs of warm clothes, a notebook and two books for her thesis, and her thick quilt. Meera stands in the doorway of her bedroom. “Are you sure about this?” she asks.

Y/N shrugs. “I have to.” Her fingers close around the gold pendant she wears. The outline of the star presses into the skin of her thumb. “I have to do this.”

Meera pulls her into a tight hug. “You call me if you need anything. And you tell me if all the other FBI agents are that pretty, okay?” Y/N laughs. “And be safe. I’m really proud of you.”

Y/N slips into her plaid wool coat, wearing it like armor into battle. Grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, she follows the agents out of her own apartment for the second time that week.

..

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