#he's just way too passive and mild to have approached them;

[yuseirra]

HE SHOULD HAVE JUST GONE TO VISIT HER AT THE HOSPITAL...

it's a bit confusing but if we take his testimony, he was aware of Ai having given birth? I bet she told him and they did keep in touch, that call at the phone booth... it did seem like it wasn't her first time talking to him about their kids.

psychologically speaking, the fact that Ai was content about showing her bf their children(who are still very little)means she did trust him around them. That's why I thought she wasn't on bad terms with him(from her end at least) even before he showed up in person.

In fact, depending on the situation, it could mean something even stronger, she would have really wanted to show him their kids...but didn't think he was ready. Showing babies indicate a strong sense of trust for many animals... humans are animals too, you know.

Considering how much Ai swooned about her kids… (and it turns out she really did love her boyfriend a lot)she really could have wanted to show off how cute they are. I bet she was pretty sure he'd like them if he came to see them. She was just scared too because she thought it'd be his burden.

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado

@saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @lxblm

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@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

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@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Obsession

Tom Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Mild language, Graphic, Smut, Toxic, Possessive, Protective, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive, Anger…

Prompt: Y/N Black is a mystery to many. She isn’t interested in making friends, only her studies. However, unbeknownst to many, one boy has piqued her interest——Tom Riddle. Little did she know, he had an obsession with her.

Sidenote: I did use some spells from the vampire diaries just for the heck of it. I may do a part two, but I’m not sure if it really needs it. I’ll leave it up to you guys!

Everyone seemed more chattier than usual. Maybe it was the upcoming Yule Ball or maybe it was because holidays were approaching. However, you hated the buzzing chatter, the obnoxious shouting, and all of the crowded halls. You had tried to go to the library as an escape from this madness, but everyone had infiltrated the library even.

You were the Scrooge that everybody was painfully aware of as you stormed through the halls with your books clutched to your chest. If you were a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, they would have laughed at the irked expression on your face. However, knowing you were a Slytherin strikes fear in many.

Not to mention you were a mystery to many. You were oh so quiet, along with a freakishly amount of smart, and an unearthly amount of beautiful. You chose to stick to yourself, choosing to not make any friends. You instead chose to have acquaintances in case a group project popped up, however you normally managed to worm your way out of that so you could work alone.

That was how you preferred doing things, alone. Other students have given up on trying to befriend you, seeing it as pointless. Guys would still try and ask you out, but their advances failed. They hadn’t noticed that your interest was piqued by a boy already. However, it seemed that he was just like you.

Tom Riddle was a handsome young man with jet black curly-ish hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black from afar. He was fairly tall and had a lean look. His face was always blank…passive as he studied or walked through the halls or even when he was with his group of “friends”. They were his followers in his mind, not his friends. To anyone else, they saw them as a happy friend group.

You had noticed the things that anyone would pick up about Tom from afar, like his intelligence. Tom excelled in all of his classes, in fact he was tied at the top of the year with you. He too was introverted, preferring to be alone and in silence. For someone as passive as Tom, you noticed things he did. When he was judging something, he’d lean back in his chair, occasionally quirking an eyebrow as if he was impressed or annoyed.

When he was in a rather intuitive or creative mood, his eyes seemed to be a lighter shade of brown and he would get carried away in his journal. When he was thinking, he would zone out on his journal or something in the room.

You noticed that he’d clench his jaw until a muscle there ticked when he got angered. When he was annoyed, he had a tendency to sigh.

“Y/N!” Narcissa calls.

She stood among Tom Riddle and all of his “friends”. Tom’s eyes find you who was clearly irritated. You had made your way through the crowd and head towards her.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Hey, that is no way to talk to your favorite cousin.” Narcissa scolds.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You ask.

“It’s because it is me.” Bellatrix grins.

“Not you either.” You mutter.

“Moving on, have you seen Sirius or Regulus?” She asks.

“I’m not their keeper, Narcissa.” You mutter.

“They said they were meeting up with you.” She says, sighing in frustration.

“Well they didn’t. I need to get to class.” You mutter.

Before you could go, Bellatrix grabs your upper arm in a tight grip. You turn back to her with a clenched jaw as Narcissa steps back, muttering an “Uh-Oh”.

“Leaving so soon, cousin?” She mocks.

“Bellatrix, I’m warning you now to let go or you will regret it.” You warn calmly.

“What will you do? You're all goody two shoes, yet your in Slytherin. I think that dumb hat sorted you into the wrong house.” She says.

You pull your wand free, pointing it at her as you mutter “Stupefy”. You roll your eyes as she flies backwards through the crowd.

“If I wouldn’t get expelled, I would definitely crucio you or use the killing curse on you for your information. However, nothing is stopping me once we graduate.” You say, before turning and leaving the group stunned.

Tom smiles slightly as he watches you walk away, finding himself even more intrigued with you than he originally was. Call it an interest or maybe an obsession at this point. He liked to watch you when he could. He noticed things about you that he was sure no one else noticed.

He knew you were a quiet and mysterious girl, but underneath that “innocent” mask you wore, he knew there was a strong woman with a dangerous mind. You were far from innocent and today proved that more so to him. To anyone else, you were that innocent girl. However, when you let your guard down if you were stressed or angry or irritated, he could see the danger swirling in your (eye color) eyes.

He lets his smile fall, regaining his composure before turning back to his group. Bellatrix was back on her feet, a scowl on her face as Narcissa helped hold her up. He watches as Sirius and Regulus join them.

“What is wrong with you?” Sirius asks.

“Your bloody sister is what is wrong! She used stupefy on me!” She snaps.

“How pissed off did you make her?” Regulus chuckles, shaking his head.

“You both told me you were meeting with her about becoming a follower. Yet, she hasn’t seen either of you all day. So, where were you both off to?” Narcissa snaps.

“Have you seen how mad she can get? We learned not to mess around when she gets mad, Issa. When she is mad, she will take down anyone in her path. We’ve learned how to avoid making her mad. So, you go have that conversation with her because I rather not get crucio’d again.” Sirius says.

“Wow.” Avery mutters.

“She may be quiet and keeps to herself, but Y/N is a ticking time-bomb when you make her mad. She is intelligent, and maybe too intelligent for her own good. She also liked being stronger than others in magic, so that is why she studies so hard. However, because she is so antisocial and introverted, even as a child before Hogwarts, she took her studies serious, so she doesn’t understand fun. She is boring.” Sirius says.

“I bet she hasn’t ever shagged anyone, or snogged! A sixth year and a virgin! That is embarrassing.” Bellatrix cackles.

That further piqued Tom’s interest about you.. He found himself having more thoughts about you, both innocent and sinful thoughts. However, his sinful thoughts changed to the exception of you being a virgin. That made him feel a possessiveness over you he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about. However, he knew that the idea of you being with anyone else was sickening to him. You were his, you just didn’t know it yet.

Your studies past fairly quickly and you were heading towards the Great Hall. You sit at your normal spot, Regulus sitting next to you. Tom sat a table down with his “friends”, however his focus was on you. Regulus gently closed your books, pushing them away.

“Eat, then study.” He stresses softly.

As irritated as you were about him taking away your books, you listened. Tom quirked a brow, finding himself wondering if it was often you got so distracted by your studies that you didn’t take care of yourself the best. His eyes roam over you slowly, noticing the dark circles under your eyes along with the thinning face of yours. So, it was often, he thought.

“Y/N! My favorite sister! How has your day been?” Sirius asks as plops down across from you.

“What do you want?” You ask, sighing as you pushed your food around on your plate.

“Nothing to do with studies I hope, she is taking a break to eat.” Regulus stresses.

You close your eyes as the two start to argue, resting your chin on your hand. You open your eyes when Regulus stands, his voice getting louder.

“Enough!” You snap, the two instantly quieting.

It had gotten the attention of those around your table. You take in a slow breath before letting it out, regaining your composure before looking between your brothers with a blank look.

“You two bicker like a bunch of children. This is our brief moment to be able to hang out, however you both don’t know how to push aside your differences because you both are too hot-headed and irrational.” You rant.

You snatch up your books that Regulus had pushed away from you earlier and stood from the table as you left the Great Hall.

Tom watched you leave before looking between your brothers, before his eyes fell on your plate of untouched food. He puts some food in his bag, going unnoticed and decides to leave himself. He made his way to the library, heading to the forbidden section where he assumed you’d be. He feels a brief moment of pride flare in his chest, right about where you had gone. He clears his throat and you look up from your notes.

“Here. I noticed you didn’t eat.” He says.

His voice surprised you. It was deep, soft and mysterious. He pulled out some food he took from the Great Hall and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

He nods, going to leave and you begin working on your studies again. You sigh as a loud group comes into the library.

“Would you allow me to show you a place I like to go?” He asks, looking back down at you.

“I don’t see why not.” You admit, gathering your stuff before standing.

You follow behind Tom, not quite sure where he was taking you. You knew of his quest to become the Dark Lord. Some of his followers had big mouths, so you heard more than everyone thought you knew. They assumed you were clueless about his current quest and they all were tip-toeing around who would be the one to break the news to you. However, you knew. You knew more than them in fact.

He looks around, making sure there was no other students or professors in the hall before a door appears in the wall. Your lips part from surprise as he ushers you in, following behind you. You looked around the empty room in awe.

“The Room of Requirements…I’ve heard of it and I’ve looked everywhere for it.” You mumble.

“Yes, I searched for this room for awhile myself. I later learned that the room only will appear in great need.” Tom explains, seeming rather smug about finding it.

“The room seems to know you quite well…and you seem to know the room quite well too. Otherwise, the door wouldn’t have appeared because I’m sure my studies are not in great need.” You say, turning back to him.

You feel a heat spread across your body as you catch his eyes on you. The dark eyes slowly trail over you, mapping out your body. His eyes stop on your blouse where you had a few buttons undone since you were alone and had started to get a little hot in the confined aisles of the forbidden section in the library.

He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You look up, not realizing that he was this tall. He puts a hand out and gently grasps your hip before trailing it up your side. He tugs on the middle of your blouse, revealing more of your cleavage, before he starts undoing the remaining buttons.

“That and maybe because I am in great need of you.” He murmurs, leaning down to trail his lips along your neck.

You shiver, feeling a trail of goosebumps being left behind from the ghost touch. His hands find your shoulders where he pushes the robes off before pushing your blouse off along with it. He leaves a soft kiss on your racing pulse, before he pulls back to look down at you.

You were left in a dark green lace bra, and he tsked quietly, approving the way they made your breasts look. The bra seemed to work as a push-up bra, but really Narcissa had gotten you the wrong size this year.

His eyes trail over your stomach, noting the soft curves he would be sure to feel later. His eyes focus on the short school-girl skirt, also Narcissa’s doing. You didn’t fret much about it as you knew you’d wear your robe more often than not. You were wearing knee high stockings with a pair of mary-janes.

“The school girl skirt, hmph, your just asking to be fucked, aren’t you?” He asks, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Tom.” You say breathlessly.

“Leave the skirt on, but take your panties off.” He orders.

He begins unbuttoning his own shirt, watching you. You were frozen in place before you start to work the panties down. He held a hand out, looking at you expectantly. Your shaky hand places the matching dark green lace panties into his hand.

He balls it up and sticks it in his blazer pocket. You watch as his long, slender fingers work his belt off. Your eyes focused on his veiny hands.

“Hands and knees.” He says.

You slowly drop to your knees, turning over, no longer able to watch his next move. You get on your hands, moving so you are on your elbows. You arch your back down, sticking your ass out more.

Tom licks his lips slowly, swallowing hard as he watches you get into the position. He inhales deeply, watching as you arch your back. He puts a clenched fist to his mouth, lightly biting himself, not quite sure if this was really happening. The skirt hid nothing. He could see the big globes that he found himself really attracted to. He never would have taken himself as an ass man.

His eyes trail further down to see your glistening entrance. He pushes his pants off before he gets on the ground behind you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, before he finds himself tracing down your spine lightly. You shiver unintentionally, however he enjoyed the effect he on you.

“How bad do you want me?” He murmurs into your ear.

“Please, Tom.” You whisper as you push your hips back.

“Pathetic. Do you want my cock or not?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and roughly jerking your head back.

A breathless moan fills the thick air in the room as a heat spreads across your scalp. He clenches his jaw, feeling himself twitch from the sound he heard. It was the beginning of a beautiful symphony, one he didn’t realize how much he’d become crazed for.

“Tom! Please! I need you!” You cry, feeling frustrated that he wasn’t touching you where you wanted to be touched.

He smirks, gently grabbing your hips. He uses his other hand to guide himself into your dripping entrance. He groans, your walls immediately grasping onto him, suffocating him. You moan lowly, your hands grasping at the stone floor as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck.” He curses, working himself in and out of you slowly.

“Tom, please.” You plead, pushing your hips back.

“Is my cock the first one you’ve ever had?” He asks, his eyes burning in the back of your head as he awaited your response.

“Yes! Please, Tom!” You cry.

He couldn’t help the grin across his face. He heard it, but he wasn’t sure if maybe you just kept them out of the loop. But, knowing he was the one to take your virginity was exhilirating to him.

“I better be the only cock you have here. You are mine.” He warns.

“Yes! I-I’m yours, Tom!” You moan as he starts to move at a faster pace.

“I’ll kill any boy who dares to be with you, because you are mine! I’ll punish you if I see you talking to some boy.” He growls, his hips now savagely moving.

You cry for more, your soft and loud moans were music to his ears. He breathed heavily along with you as held onto your hips tightly. Skin smacking echoed in the room and you heard his soft groan which sent you coming. He groans louder as you clench around him, coming around him.

You stood on shaky legs, buttoning up your blouse and grimacing as you feel your shared climaxes slowly leaking out of you. He grasps your chin, looking at you with a stern look.

“Keep it in. I want you to know who fucked you.” He says.

“Tom, I need my panties.” You say as your cheeks flush.

“Find another way to keep it in.” He says, before focusing back on straightening himself out.

You pull your blazer on along with your robes before grabbing your books and hurrying out. You reach the Slytherin common room, Narcissa and Bellatrix looking up from their game of cards. Sirius and Regulus’s backs were to you.

“Oh my god, you got shagged!” Narcissa exclaims with a grin.

“Who was it?” Bellatrix asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to know.” Sirius seethes, taking in your disheveled hair and the hickeys on your neck.

Narcissa looks at your knees to see that they were scraped up, but you choose to ignore your brothers and cousins as you make your way past them. Regulus laughs, yelling “Atta girl!”

A small smile graces your lips at your little brothers comment. He too was protective of you, but he knew you inside and out. He and you were far closer than you were with Sirius. You get to your dorm and think of showering, but then your mind wanders to Tom. Keep it in…

You pull on a pair of fresh panties as you change into your nightware. You found yourself tossing and turning for a long while before you fell asleep. By the time it was time to wake up, you were exhausted. You could sleep in, but that ruins your morning routine.

You go to the shower, grimacing at the burn in your stomach. It was now that you realized you didn’t eat once yesterday. You finished up in the bathroom before pulling on a black lingerie set. You gasp as your door opens and Tom walks in.

“I knew you’d be awake.” He says, his eyes slowly roaming over you and some of the bruises he had made from where he held you still.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” You ask, grabbing a random robe and pulling it on.

“I’ve seen it all, darling. I wanted to tell you no more skirts.” He says and you look at him confused.

“I…Is it because how short they are?” You ask.

“That and the school girl skirt should be meant for my eyes when we are alone. Do you understand?” He asks.

“I…yes, Tom.” You say quietly.

He grins, looking at your neck where you had several hickeys before he leaves. You frown and look at the outfit you had prepared for this morning. It consisted of a school girl skirt.You sigh, grabbing a dark green skater skirt that ended a little about mid-thigh. There wasn’t much you could do about the length of your skirts until you went shopping again.

You grab your button up blouse and your Slytherin tie. You grab the blazer and sigh when you see dust on it. You hang it back up, deciding you will have to clean it later because you don’t have time now.

You pull on your knee socks and mary-janes when there was a knock at your dorm door. You open it and see it was Narcissa.

“I came bearing gifts.” She says.

You open the door and she guides you to the small vanity as she begins to help you cover the hickeys on your neck and jawline.

“So, who was it?” She asks.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to say who it was yet.” You murmur.

“Did he force you? I’ll make him suffer the worst ways imaginable.” She says seriously.

“No, no, he didn’t force me. I’m just not sure what is happening yet. I don’t know if it merely was just another shag to him or if it’ll turn into something. However, he’s being a little controlling of what I wear, mainly my skirts.” You explain.

“I feel like I already know who this is.” She says, sighing.

“Who?” You ask.

“Tom Riddle?” She asks.

“Oh…how did you know?” You ask.

“Tom is…many things. I don’t know if he is capable of love and a relationship. He is a very possessive man. And I mean to the extent that it isn't healthy. He is ill-tempered and easily jealous. Not to mention he can be obsessive too. I personally think you should put some distance between the two of you and let things die down. I don’t know what his intentions are, but I’m sure they aren’t good.” She explains.

“Alright.” You say quietly.

You were quite sure how to feel. But, you knew Narcissa meant well and you also knew that she knew Tom better than you. You trusted her advice almost as you trusted Regulus’s.

“All done.” She says.

“Thank you, Issa.” You murmur and she nods.

She leaves you to your thoughts and you realize you need to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. You gather your books and make your way out of your dorm in a daze. You head to the Great Hall and see everyone was already there. You ignore the burning stare that you knew belonged to Tom Riddle.

“Hey, you okay? You seem out of it? And your running late.” Regulus says.

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I’m just in need of food. I realized I didn’t eat once yesterday.” You explain.

“Y/N/N, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. I will start treating you like I did the first year.” He warns.

“I know, I know, and I promise I’ll do better.” You sigh.

“Why is Riddle staring at you? He seems pissed.” He whispers.

“Oh, who knows.” You sigh, briefly glancing at Tom.

Tom was staring at your neck where your hickeys would be, but thanks to Narcissa, they were no longer there. You managed to eat some of your food before it began to make you feel sick. You felt suffocated with Tom glaring daggers into you and Sirius was no better.

“Stop it.” Regulus warns Sirius.

“I want to know who it was.” He snaps, looking back at you.

You clench your jaw, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a slow breath in and let it out. You pull your wand out and keep your hand rested on the table, so you don’t draw anymore attention to you.

“Keep glaring, brother and watch how fast you end up in the hospital wing.” You warn lowly.

“Guys.” Narcissa warns.

“Who is he?” He growls lowly, leaning closer to you.

“Oh shit. Take cover!” Regulus says, going under the table.

You reach forward, grabbing Sirius’s tie and pull him closer as your face heats from anger.

“Astronomy tower, now.” You grit out.

He stands and storms out and you stand as Regulus pokes his head out.

“Don’t kill him please.” He pleads.

You storm out of the Great Hall, wand in hand as you make your way towards the Astronomy tower to see him already there and waiting.

“Who is it!?” He snaps as you both circle each other.

“Sirius, it’s none of your business. Stop trying to act like the older and protective brother. Stop acting like you care!” You snap.

“I do care! You're my sister.” He snaps.

“Guys. Let’s try to keep calm.” Narcissa says as she walks in with her group.

“Yeah, let’s just hug it out and make up.” Regulus says.

“I want to know who has my sister acting like a tramp.” He snaps.

“Oh no….oh no! Oh no! Back up, back up, back up!” Regulus says as he pushes everyone back.

“Bombarda!” You fast and Sirius curses as he tries to dodge the mini explosion you casted his way.

“Confundo!” He shouts, but you dodge it.

“Everte Statum.” You cast, watching as he flies back against the wall, his wand falling in the process.

You walk forward, grabbing his wand before looking down at him.

“Impulsa Animositas!” You snap, gaining confused looks from around the room.

“I…Y/N, have you been creating spells again?” Regulus asks cautiously.

“Again?” Narcissa asks alarmed.

“What did you do to me?” Sirius snaps.

“Say something mean. To any of us.” You say, smirking.

“What the hell did you do to me you crazy bi—ow!” He exclaims after feeling a jolt of electricity go through you.

“Just as I assumed. This spell will zap you everytime you try and say something mean.” You say.

“That’s child’s play you idiot!” He snaps before groaning.

“Hm. This isn’t. Lihednat Dolchitni.” You cast.

His hands find his throat as he try’s to breath. You clench your fist tighter, watching how he struggles more before you wave your hand and it stops. He leans forward, breathing heavily.

“Tread carefully, brother. I have far more up my sleeve than you wish to believe.” You spat.

“You…you will get in so much trouble for creating spells. Regulus and I told you that you need to stop.” He breathes heavily.

“Then keep your mouths shut otherwise I’ll make you suffer in the worst unimaginable ways.” You say.

With that, you turn and walk past the group who seemed shocked. You head back to the Great Hall, gathering your items before heading back to your dorm. You were too upset and riled up to do anything. So, instead you hurry to your dorm and lock the door.

You pace frantically, running your hands through your hair. You let a breath out that you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” You mumble to yourself.

The lock on your door clicks, so you turn and see Tom. He closes the door back and turns to you with that normal passive and cold look.

“That was…impressive.” He says.

“Tom, I really rather be alone right now.” You mutter.

“Why cover the marks I left? I left them for a reason.” He says, his voice hardening as his eyes turn several shades darker.

“I didn’t want to walk around with them showing. People would have said something and I don’t want to deal with that. Plus, I rather the school not know I was your play thing.” You mutter harshly, turning your back to him.

“Who said you were a play thing because I don’t recall ever telling you that?” He snaps.

“Tell me this, Tom. Are you one for commitment? Would you be in an exclusive relationship? Huh, tell me that!” You snap harshly as you turn to face him again.

“I can do commitment. Before, I’d say no. However, for you I am willing to do it. I’m willing to be in an exclusive relationship as you call it. Because I can’t ever get you out of my head! You are all I can focus on! It’s so…so irritating, yet I love it at the same time.” He growls.

“Tom, there are going to have to be some rules set in place if we are to do something. Like the skirt thing this morning. I only wear skirts.” You say.

“Fine. Wear your skirts, well not the school girl ones, however I can’t promise that some asshole won’t end up dead for looking. You are mine.” He snaps.

“Okay, and what about the marks?” You ask.

“You shouldn’t care what anyone says. You never have before, so why care now? I want people to know that you belong to me. I want the guys to realize that you aren’t a possibility anymore. You are mine.” He says, closing the distance between you both.

You look up as his hand wraps around your throat. He tightens his hand and you let a shaky breath out as you clench your thighs.

“You barely know me.” You mumble.

“I know more than you think, darling. You piqued my interest. When that happens, I tend to learn everything I can.” He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you softly.

You hum, moving your hands to his hair. You whine when he pulls back, a smirk on his lips.

“What does that mean? How have you learned about me if you just started speaking to me yesterday?” You ask.

“Because I might be a bit obsessive when it comes to learning of the things that interest me. I won’t stop until I know everything.” He says.

There was banging on your dorm door and you sigh, going to walk past Tom, but he loops an arm around your waist.

“Who is it?” Tom asks, annoyed.

“It’s Bella, me and Regulus. Is Y/N in there?” Narcissa says.

“Well go away. I’m about to fuck my girl.” He snaps.

Your face heats up as you cover your mouth to hide your gasp. Narcissa gasps, Regulus laughs and yells for you to get it while Bellatrix throws a fit.

“We are not doing anything! We are just talking!” You exclaim.

“Talking, huh?” He says, quirking a brow at you as he slips a hand beneath your skirt.

You let a shaky breath out as he trails his hand up your thigh. He gets to your underwear, sliding two fingers beneath the lacy fabric.

“Tom.” You mumble.

“Talking and yet you're so wet for me. Do you want my cock again?” He asks, sliding a finger in you.

Your eyes flutter close and he grins widely, loving the way you reacted to his touch. You were the violin and he was the violinist. He played you so gracefully and loved the beautiful symphony that came from your mouth. It was his greatest obsession.

[meltedheartz]

thinking about ftm!reader and mean!izuku who thinks it's so cute how they just can't defend themselves against him :((

tw : college!au, dub-con, condescension, mild bullying (in a way), chubby reader, reader wears glasses, reader's a bit of a loser, dacryphilia, creampie, no protection (don't be silly, wrap that willy!), mating press, izuku's a whore for reader, praise and petnames, don't care how big you are cuz izu's bigger, gn pronouns used :3

word count : wrote this on a whim, so i honestly don't know..

it starts when you accidentally bump into him, stumbling back yet he was barely even startled. you apologize profusely, and izuku just waves you off at first.

you think it's rude, before rushing off to wherever you were trying to get too—forgetting about it.

but izuku spots you around that coffee shop near the campus, sees you in the hallways with books nearly stumbling from your arms, watches as you take notes as the professor speaks.

a couple of people whisper about you, how you never bother speaking to anyone, and how nervous you seem when someone approaches you.

it's like cornering a bunny, izuku thinks when he decides to speak to you.

well, it's more like being passive aggressive than actually conversing.

"wow, you're soo smart. you must be real fun to be around, huh? your voice is really high pitched, are you sure you're alright?"

you tell him to stop being a dickhead, if he doesn't wanna be around, he doesn't have to be. izuku waves you off and laughs, says you're like a startled animal that thinks it's intimidating, and it makes you frown.

"you're an ass," you poke at his chest, before picking up your bag and adjusting your glasses.

"hm? where are you going?" izuku pointedly ignores your insult, but it feels more ticklish than insulting or hurtful.

you ignore him right back, attempting to storm out of his dorm room. of all the people you get to work with, you get paired with him. it's annoying—more an inconvenience, than anything.

izuku watches as tears well up behind those clear rims you wear, sees the furrow in your eyebrow and nearly laughs at it, wants to call you a crybaby for it; just like everyone used to do to him.

he can sort of see why they did it, and when it comes down to someone as soft and quiet as you, it's nearly impossible to resist.

"we're not done with either of our parts. you don't need help on yours?"

when you don't answer, izuku takes it upon himself to grab you hard enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt. it causes a slight discomfort, makes your breathing stutter a bit as you sniffle and try to pull away—but you physically can't.

izuku speaks again, looming over you with a small scowl. "why are you ignoring me? i thought you wanted to get this done, what happened to that?"

you just wanna slap him for asking that. he knows the answer — knows exactly what he did wrong and why you got fed up.

"let go of me. i'll work on my part by myself, dickweed."

"nuh-uh, that's not fair to either of us, is it?" izuku coos, grabbing your bag for you and tossing it onto the futon he has sitting just a little bit away.

you sniffle again, more tears welling up and threatening to tip over and down onto your chubby cheeks, and you can't even wipe them away cuz you're arguing with such an asshole.

you seem so frustrated and angered, but he knows that instead of yelling, you cry. it's pathetic, makes him wanna bite your cute face and boop your nose just to see you sniffle some more.

"you mad at me?" izuku asks, tugging you back into the small apartment that you stupidly decided to visit to get your joint assignment done.

"this is stupid — let me go, midoriya." he frowns at that, his grip loosening just a bit before it tightens again.

he clicks his tongue and drags you right back to his room, with all the superhero posters and expensive collectors items that can't be found anywhere else.

izuku sits you down but doesn't let you go—hasn't let go of your arm since he got a hold of it. "what happened to calling me by my name?"

"that is your name," you snark back. you watch as his eyes narrow a bit and he makes his way on to the bed, looming over you.

you feel.. small. it's not like you were ever bigger than him, he goes to the gym more times a week than you can keep track of and is over 6'0" — of course you aren't bigger than him.

"don't get smart with me honey. you know you don't wanna do that." izuku sighs and makes you lay down, and you feel your heartbeat speed up as your eyes widen.

you struggle and squirm, but he just smiles and puts more of his weight on you, making it near impossible to even move.

"m-midoriya—"

"izuku. say it," he breathes out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck almost forcefully.

he hears you hiccup, sees as the tears flow over and how your eyes get all glassy—all doe-eyed and he laughs.

"izuku, get off me—" you try to move again, you feel the grip around your wrist tighten more and it feels more and more uncomfortable as it does.

"i love you. you're so cute, what would you have done if it was someone else on top of you? hm?" izuku raises his head to look at you, and feels bad.

feels that guilt of actually making you cry, seeing how scared you are of him. "ah-ah, shh. i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you upset, okay?"

that doesn't make the tears stop, but izuku thinks it's fine. the apology sounds genuine—more genuine than the usual sarcastic 'sorry' he gives you, more genuine than the mean laughs he gives you after making you throw a crumbled paper ball at him.

"i hate you, you're s-so mean," you hiss, wanting to kick and scream at him.

you feel the hold he has on your wrists loosen, but he doesn't let go entirely. but it's more than enough for you to wriggle free.

izuku smiles again, "i know. i know, 'm sorry."

the words that leave his mouth make you hiccup and stare at him, the typical scowl you always give izuku on your lips.

"you never show that you're actually sorry." you sniffle, and have to move to wipe the onslaught of tears the stumble down your pretty face.

izuku pauses when you say that, eyes grazing over your face before he lights up.

"how about i prove it, would that make you feel better?"

"s-slow down—"

"mgh—s-sorry," izuku gasps, but doesn't make any move to slow down, hips stuttering into yours as he watches you shake and clutch at the sheets.

it's been a little over thirty minutes, you think, but you're not sure. it's not like you can think when you can feel izuku's pretty cock all the way in your tummy—making sure you know he's actually sorry.

he spent all his time before this slurping at your pretty cunt, fingering you to completion as he sucked at your cute clit and made sure you felt good.

even now, izuku was trying to make sure you felt as good as you possibly could with him, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust into you.

"love you s'much, soo soft n pretty-" izuku whines, kissing you all sloppily yet so lovingly.

it makes you clench up around him, trying to close your legs but you jus can't because of the mean mating press he has you in.

"such a good boy for me, yeah?" the words paired with his dick stirring up your guts make you wail.

it's almost too much, but it's not enough as you cream around his cock—a milky white ring forming at the base of it as he pants and gasps right next to your ear.

he pounds a little faster—a little harder before his thrusts get sloppier and nearly lose rhythm. you can barely see his face without your glasses and the tears blurring your vision further.

but izuku makes sure that you can hear him good and well as he moans and whines, feeling the blunt tip press against your cervix as though it never wants to leave.

"shit, shit— 'm cumming," he gives short little thrusts as he does, cumming harder than he has in months just knowing that he finally has you.

you're both sweaty and you feel a little icky, embarrassed at all the crying you did. izuku kisses you—softer than he did before, wiping some hair from your face as he does.

"love you." izuku mutters. he doesn't care if you don't say it back, just as long as you know he loved you at the very least.

"i love you too."

A/N ; i haven't written smut or anything in MONTHS. i hope this is good in some parts, it's very rushed and not well thought outt :((

b4 anyone asks, minors are allowed to interact with my account. i don't care, as long as you aren't under 15. i fully understand that you guys have hormones, and the "minors dni" thing is straight bullshit to me. luv you guys, i will be making an account intro, but it won't be anytime soon cuz i'm lazy.. ＼(≧▽≦)／

[boopshoops]

Class to Class to Class to Class to...

[This takes place between chapters 4&5 of TCOAV]

Hahaha! Aaahhh... she hated it here.

Yuu skid to a halt in the middle of the hall, a smile forcefully painted on her face to maintain some semblance of civility.

Her breath caught in her lungs and she wiped sweat from her brow. With a quiet scoff of irritation, she opened the door:

"Safe~" She huffed under her breath. She felt the eyes of her classmates land on her. Again. It was a common occurrence now. Of course, barging into the classroom for the third day in a row was bound to catch some glances, but really? Even when she beat the bell, she still got glares? At LEAST say hello or something. What, did they want her to strike a pose? Do a little trick? Make Grim do a flip or something?

She had been gradually learning to simply return the stares. Make them more uncomfortable than she, then they go about leaving her alone.

This time she did a little twirl.

Her audience didn't clap.

"Pup!" Professor Crewel called out right as the bell drummed out its usual tune. The questionably devious teacher squinted at her, lip curling up in mild annoyance at her distraction, "Take your seat."

"Yes, yes, of course~" She hummed in her usual facade, appearing passive. C'mon now, it's not like she dropped into the splits now, did she? If anything, tell your students to maybe clap or cheer or something.

No no, instead of cheers, she could hear Ace's snickering getting louder as she approached. Deuce politely waved her over as usual, with Grim already awkwardly standing in his seat.

"You look like a mess," Ace commented with a snort, picking up on the obvious: sweat, fly away curls of hair in every which direction, her uniform jacket half heartedly tied around her waist. All the indications of her usual sprint across the entire school building.

Yes. That is correct. The entire school building.

Having Junior and Freshman classes back to back had its setbacks, certainly. One could say it even made her completely...fucking over it.

Either way, he was wrong. Given the circumstances, she knew she looked quite nice today. She was more put together, learning the way of the world, and that did wonders to amplify her confidence... even if the free for all run to Crewel's class still sparked a flame of anger. Her act dropped in front of the trio.

"You look more kickable today~" She hissed in a whispered response as she sat in her seat next to Grim, leaving her bag to hang off the back of the chair. The raccoon-cat-seal-monster-creature-thing only grumbled at her in acknowledgement, far too busy attempting to find out how to hold his pen without any thumbs.

"Yeah yeah, I'm soooo scared... prefect's getting their steps in recently. What, are you going to join track with Deuce?"

"Ace..." Deuce sighed, turning to look at Yuu from in between the bickering troublemakers, "Don't listen to that idiot. You weren't late today! That's great!"

A more sinister, smug grin plastered onto her face, "Thank you~ I know! It is quite great, isn't it~"

"It's the bare minimum," Ace piped back up with an equally evil smirk. The playful banter had quickly become the norm for them, she knew far well enough to not take any of Ace's insults seriously.

"Shut up," Yuu bit back with a sickeningly sweet glare, watching as Ace stuck his tongue out at her before Professor Crewel called them all to attention.

Right. School... what did he say they'd be studying today?

Blot?

Writing and art tag list! Just lmk if ya wanna be added @lowcallyfruity @cecilebutcher @skriblee-ksk @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3 @thehollowwriter

[setrija-nibelungenfangirl]

My random thoughts on ‚Hagen – Im Tal der Nibelungen‘ (2024) by Cyrill Boss und Philipp Stennert. Based on Wolfgang Hohlbein's novel ‘Hagen von Tronje’ from 1986.

Since @galarix asked me for my opinion, here are my thoughts on the film:

I was expecting Hagen 2024 to be a trash film, but the production is too high quality to label it as trash, e.g. in the landscape shots. The film is not good because it lacks depth and has some illogical scenes. Nor did it manage to move me emotionally (except in the form of the anger I felt at Siegfried's behaviour - and it made me laugh in two scenes because I found them so ridiculous). But it wasn't completely bad either: it has interesting approaches and concepts. There is actually a good basis for complexity, but it is not used - the film is above all a lot of wasted potential.

However, you can't tell from the film that it's actually just a 2-hour version of the 6-hour series to be released in 2025. If I hadn't read that somewhere in advance, I wouldn't have realized it. So the film does work on its own.

A few more of my thoughts on the film with a few mild spoilers under the cut:

Negatives:

- The film tries to build relationships between characters and somehow give them depth (especially with Siegfried and Hagen), but it didn't work for me. Unfortunately, the characters are all relatively one-note and flat, especially those who are not Siegfried and Hagen. With Siegfried and Hagen, there are hints about their past, but they come to nothing (neither story-wise nor thematically).

- I also found it a pity that Hagen and Siegfried always react pretty much the same way to situations right up to the end: Hagen always remains calm (and tends to be passive) and Siegfried remains pretty much constantly a... drug-addicted thug. In the end, you could say that Hagen does behave tougher, but it's too little too late for me. I thought that Hagen should have lost his temper earlier, at least a little more - in one section of the plot, Siegfried violates what Hagen stands for (or should stand for) so much that I would have found it fitting if Hagen had slapped Siegfried or at least said a few harsh words/implied a threat to him.

- In this film, Hagen is mainly focused on protecting his family and Gunther's kingdom (and making Kriemhild happy). Personally, however, I found it illogical that he conceals a super important matter from Gunther that jeopardises (or really should jeopardise) Gunther's authority as king and Gunther's reputation.

- In general, it bothered me that characters react far too little to certain things and that other characters suffer too few consequences for their behaviour. In my opinion, the Burgundians allow themselves to be disrespected by Siegfried for far too long and far too much. And when Kriemhild goes on a three-day trip into the forest with a violent drunkard (= Siegfried), neither Hagen nor her brothers seem to care too much - which is particularly illogical/funny because earlier in the movie Hagen was riding after Kriemhild (out of concern for her) when Kriemhild rode after her horse (that had gone mad earlier).

- The acting could have been better. For example, Kriemhild has an emotional scene, but it didn't work for me because the acting wasn't that convincing. I also thought that Gunther and his siblings had zero charisma. The acting of some of the actors seemed wooden to me (e.g. Kriemhild).

Positives:

- The film has very beautiful landscape shots, especially in Iceland. And it has some good visuals.

- It has interesting concepts and approaches. For example, there is a ritual that I found very cool as a (dark-fantasy) concept (even if I wouldn't have associated it with a Nibelung adaptation).

- Despite saying so many negative things, I have to say that I'm still thinking about the film a week later and it has piqued my curiosity: I'm preoccupied with the question of what the hell is wrong with Siegfried. And when the series 2025 comes out, I do want to watch it because I want to know what's going on with Siegfried and with Hagen's weird backstory. So even though he often upset me throughout the film, I would actually still say that Siegfried is the ‘best’ character in the film for me because he's at least somewhat interesting to me. Hagen is unfortunately too passive for me to be really interesting - only his backstory arouses my curiosity (which is not fully explained in the film). But the other characters are uninteresting to me.

Minor nitpicks:

- What the hell is Siegfried wearing? Worst outfit in Nibelung film history. Why is he wearing a modern coat and a grey sweater while everyone else is at least in pseudo-medieval clothing?

- I also find a few other costumes weird. One of the Valkyries looks to me like she's from Dune.

- Somehow the helmets on Dankrat and Gunther didn't fit properly. But I'm no expert when it comes to that. But it seemed that way to me, especially that the helmet of Dankrat was way too big for him.

- The portrayal of Brunhild in this film is the worst of all the NL films, in my opinion. She's more like an animal than a human being… All she does in the film is: show her breasts to the camera, fight, make out with Siegfried, scream and cry. Siegfried is the only character in the film she has a conversation with once, otherwise she didn't exchange a single word with anyone else... It wasn't too bad for me because I'm generally not that interested in Brunhild as a character, but it was still a shame that she was portrayed so flatly. She is a mythical Valkyrie and not supposed to be human in this movie… but I didn’t find her interesting at all.

All in all, I would give the film a 4/10 (or maybe even a 5/10) as a ranking because although it doesn't really have any depth, it has at least stayed in my head for the week now and successfully piqued my curiosity about 1-2 of its aspects.

I'd have to watch the 2004 Nibelungen film again to say whether I like Hagen 2024 or the 2004 film version better. I definitely prefer the 1924, 1966 and 1957 film versions over Hagen 2024.

Hagen 2024 seems also to be a really loose adaption of Hohlbein’s novel… But I don’t remember enough of the book to say for certain.

[muppeteyes1001]

When the felinoid heard his footsteps approaching, her brows furrowed. Kitt had hoped that he would just ignore her and leave her be. But, it looks not to be the case. She couldn't help but feel a small knot forming in her stomach. It seems Cromwell was feeling a bit more bold and talkative than usual today ... And it was starting to concern her. The way he came over to the table and began to let his claw gently graze it's top surface made her ears slightly lower before taking a quick look up at the taller creature.

As the butler comfortably seated himself in front of her, Kitt still kept her attention on her book. Not that she was able to read it anymore anyway. Now that he was so close, the tension was thick enough to cut through like butter. She would only glance up at Cromwell when he picked up the glass skull off the table and began toying with it.

At his 'warning' that it wasn't safe for her here, she simply quirked a brow towards him. "Oh! .. An' why's that, pray tell?" she mildly played along. Despite how tense things were beginning to feel, the sarcasm had managed to mend itself into her words.

When Cromwell began to prattle on again, the cat woman blinked in mild surprise. This was the first time he had ever actually called her by name. However, that little revelation was fleeting as it quickly became overshadowed by the butler stating how she was only being toyed with by the king and will eventually become his supper. The felinoid narrowed her eyes. This was a topic that he just loved to bring up constantly .. He was sounding a lot like the grey faces that would pester her and so many others every now and then.

"Well if I recall correctly, didn't you once tell me that you yourself were almost eaten at one time? .. An' yet here ya are ... talkin' my bloody ears off" she quipped. But then, what the butler mentioned next made her composure break completely.

"Excuse me! .. My kind?!" Kitt exclaimed, shutting her book immediately and sitting straight up. Did she hear him right? ... She couldn't believe it .. Cromwell just admitted with such nonchalance that his sheer dislike for her was genuine. None of this disdain towards her stemmed from any type of simple misunderstanding or stubborn grudge between them in the past .. The butler was simply prejudiced towards those like her. Feline-like folk. This understandably ticked her off.

"The goodness in you?! .. Oh that's a riot! ... Usually that entails that you have a heart of some sort, which ya clearly don't if the only reason you've treated me as such is because of your narrow-mindedness to folks who look like me!" Kitt proclaimed indignantly. Her teeth beginning to bare.

When Cromwell placed the skull back onto the table towards her and told her once more to go home .... This time with a more threatening tone ... Kitt's initial nerves melted away into steeled resolve .. And after hearing this disclosed bit of information from him, the felinoid decided that she was no longer going to be passive and bullied anymore ... Especially now after seeing the type of person the butler truly was. She could only counter that threat of his in the best way she could.

"I won't! .. Alexander and I trust an' love each other very much! .. I honestly don't understand how you'd fail ta see that ... Especially since you've taken it upon yourself to spy on us many times ... An' I know that he would never try to kill me ... Not when he's being his true self .. An honorable an' caring man! ... An' as for the eating part .. I'm afraid you're a bit too late there .. He's already done that .. In a certain kinda way, that is" she simply snapped back with a small smirk.

Flipping through her book for where she left off, Kitt had been so focused that the sound of someone suddenly speaking behind her made her blink and ears perk up immediately. It barely took a second for Kitt to realize who it was and it tensed her up. This had become a fairly common occurrence every time she would come to the castle ... Especially whenever she and the butler ended up alone.

Staying silent for a moment, the felinoid slightly rolled her eyes before closing them. Taking a deep calming breath, she then opens her wintergreen orbs again before finally turning her attention to him. Her expression feigning a content demeanor.

"Ahh .. Lovely as always to see ya, Cromwell! ... You're lookin' quite chipper today, no?" Kitt began with a soft smile. Her tone sounded as it usually does when chatting normally.

"Oh! No need to worry 'bout that! .. I was planning on stayin' awhile anyway ... An' no need ta fuss over tea or anything .. I've brought my own .. See!" she informs, holding up a large metal thermos by it's handle before carefully setting it back down.

"If I need any refills or snacks, I already know my way around the kitchen an' all .. So please don't trouble yourself .. All's well an' I don't need ta be checked on ... So good day an' careful the door doesn't hit your tail on the way out .. Thanks, bye"

The felinoid turns back around and away from Cromwell as she settles into her seat once more. Her smile fell as she stared back down at her still opened book before letting out a small sigh. She had no idea why things were still like this. It had been so many months since their somewhat rocky meeting .. And it seems that things had not changed between them at all.

Kitt hoped that after her little show of mock reassurance that he would just ease off her today. She honestly did not feel like arguing with him or hearing any of his malign insults again ... It was always so damn pointless and tiring.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Removed

This one will wind to some dark places, and I am not sure it will get better yet. Also Jango Fett is not such a good person in this. Frankly, neither is Qui Gon Jinn.

We start on Melida/Daan. Obi Wan has been with them for nearly a year and The Young are winning, pushing for their peace. The Elders are approached by the Sith (Plagius or Sidious, it matters little) with an offer to pay to be allowed to take The Young. The Elders agree and the Young, Obi Wan included, are removed from the planet. For their trouble, the Elder are paid with enough weaponry that they wipe the planet of any life within five years.  Many of the children have a mild force sensitivity that seems to behave strangely around Obi Wan.

Most are used for experiments, including Obi Wan. Some are used to further Mauls training in the dark side of the force. Maul…hates these pitiful souls less than he does most.  He still does every horrible, vile thing that his Master requires but does not go out of his way to cause pain and offers the compassion of a quick death to the ones he can. He even speaks to the subject in between experiments and feels something like a kinship with them.  

For ten years Obi Wan and the rest of the Young are experimented on and tortured in every manner imaginable. Most have died in agony and the ones that live consider the dead the lucky ones. To the fascination of the Sith Masters not a single one of the force sensitive children have reached for the dark. It is almost like they are incapable of it. 

When it comes time for Jango Fett to become the template for the clones, he is also given Obi Wan Kenobi as stress relief. As this Jango has no want for sex, this means being an outlet for his anger, a punching bag. At Jango Fett’s insistence force suppressing cuffs and a force suppressing collar are sealed (welded) onto Obi Wan. This leaves him entirely unable to actively use the Force but Sith experimentation has left a passive ability to heal from almost anything. In this situation this is not actually a positive.  (Another side effect no one can figure out, he stayed looking 16 until Cody's batch reached that age, then proceeded to age along with them). At the time that Obi Wan was gifted to Jango Fett, 5 of The Young, other than Obi Wan, still live.  He is pulled from them, knowing that he will never be allowed to ask after them. 

Jango Fett is only given a single qualifier as to what he can use Obi Wan for: If he kills Obi Wan, they will not replace him.

On Kamino he is an anachronism.  When not acting as Jango Fett’s punching bag he drifts through the halls, speaking rarely to the non clones.  Several of the trainers watch him with a strange twist of guilt on their faces. They watch the bruises that are so consistent in size and shape that it looks like a patch of purple, black, and green moving across his skin over time. They take in the perennially blistered and infected skin around the collar and cuffs.  They see this and say nothing. 

For the clones it is both different and the same. They grow up knowing that this Obi Wan was no more free than they were. No matter the circumstances of his birth, he was a brother. To be protected when they could.  He held their secrets, their fears. He was the primary source of compassion in their lives. He protects them when he can and they never begrudge the times where he can’t (When he finds out about Priest’s fight club, he vanishes into Jango Fett’s apartment. No one knows what was said or done but when they emerge, Janog Fett is willing to exert himself to end the Fight Club and Priest’s other abuses. Obi Wan limps behind him with 20 meticulously broken bones in his right foot).

In this universe, as a last act of pettiness, Qui Gon Jinn takes Bruck Chun as a padawan a year after he leaves Obi Wan on Melida/Daan. His attention inadvertently prevented Xanatos from getting into Brucks head. They are a middling pair. Both are just a touch too arrogant to truly work well with others and they do tend to echo each other's worst traits but it is subtle enough that Bruck makes it successfully to knighthood a year before the Naboo crisis.  Jinn still finds Anakin on Tatooine, still wins his freedom and brings him back to the temple.  Though he had been unaccompanied at the start of the mission, his report means that three other knights ended up on Naboo with him. With this extra manpower Darth Maul is taken alive, to be locked in a cell in the Jedi temple.  Qui Gon Jinn lives to take on Anakin’s training. 

This Anakin is not as confident in his abilities. No matter what he does, he always gets the sense that Jinn expected better. By the same token Jinn is not too young and grieving, not overwhelmed with sudden responsibility. Palpatine cannot get the same hold he had on Anakin in another life. 

It is Anakin that finds Kamino in this life. Jinn clocked his crush on Padme and decided he did not want them alone together (Less chance of the Chosen One deciding to leave).   The clones, believing that Obi Wan had been given to Jango Fett by the Jedi (Something that Obi Wan can’t quite dispute), hide him from Anakin. After Fett’s death, they feared that Obi Wan would be taken away.  So they decide to hide him in the 212th with Cody. 

The two had been inseparable for years now, soulmates though neither thinks the term (In my head this is a queerplatonic relationship, in part due to the trauma they both have undergone). In fact, in this world Cody’s scar is deliberate, something that he (along with Fox and Ponds) devised to ensure that no matter how disoriented or afraid, Obi Wan would never see Cody as Jango Fett (His ability to tell the clones apart is not based in the Force, due to the cuffs. That does not stop Obi Wan from being able to tell each clone apart, no matter what).  

And so to the 212th, under General Qui Gon Jinn and his Padawan Commander Anakin Skywalker, goes a trooper named Shield (for Obi Wan has always been their shield).  The clones do not, can not, trust the Jedi.  They almost never remove their helmets in this world, save for when they were safely in the barracks so that Shield could move around freely.  The Jedi could not sense him, due to the force suppressing cuffs and collars. 

If we were to go with the cliches, Obi Wan would be revealed by accident in the most dramatic way possible. 

This is not what happened. The clones know that Obi Wan hiding as Shield is not a long term solution and the medics would really like permission to remove, along with help removing, the Force suppressors.  

8 months into the war, Plo Koon earns the full trust of the clones. With Obi Wan’s permission Wolffe approaches his general to tell him and abbreviated version of what was going on (a non clone who was living as a trooper, he had been on Kamino as Jango Fett’s punching bag, they want him to become an official member of the GAR so that he doesn’t need to hide any more).

Jedi Master Plo Koon is faintly horrified by even the vague details and agrees to meet with trooper Shield. When he asks about having Qui Gon at the meeting, Wolffe twitches. All the clones know who General Jinn is to Obi Wan, so they trust him even less than most Jedi. Jinn is not cruel to the Clones, but he treats them as he does most people he interacts with (Jinn cares little for the practicalities of their lives, so long as they continue to act in the way he expects. Thus he will call them by a preferred name if they request it but never asks for their names).  The next time the battalions meet, Cody and Shield meet privately with Wolffe and Plo Koon. 

Shield removes his helmet; gaunt faced, red haired, and clean shaven (Having never grown a beard due to some mix of injuries and the Sith experiments). Plo thinks he looks familiar and Obi Wan bows respectfully. Plo gently begins to ask for information.  Obi wan gives his name, but it still takes Plo a number of minutes to realize who he is talking to (In his defense it had been more than 20 years and Obi Wan is not the only youngling that has decided to leave the Order). Even after Plo realizes who Obi Wan is, they talk at cross purposes for several minutes. Plo Koon, of course, was under the impression that Obi Wan left the order to be with a girl two decades before. Obi wan believes he was rightfully abandoned for endangering Master Tahl, and cannot quite disbelieve the idea that it was the Jedi, or some Jedi, that gave him to Jango Fett.

As soon as Plo begins to gently question how Obi Wan ended up where he was, it became clear to the Kel Dor that information that was given to the High council twenty years before was at best wrong, at worst an outright lie.  He is horrified to see the mass of scar tissue and metal on Obi Wan’s neck and wrists and vows to help get it removed (Due to the burns and infection from when it was welded on and Obi Wan’s extraordinary ability to heal, flesh had grown over the edges of the metal), which would need to be done by the Temple Healers. He is heartbroken to realize what the clones, and Obi Wan, believe about how Obi Wan ended up on Kamino.  At the end he asks Obi Wan what he wants, going forward.

Obi Wan thinks for a moment, “To stay with Cody or, barring that, to stay with the clones in general. If possible, find out how the rest of The Young died and maybe be able to give them some kind of burial. If their remains can be found, that is.”  

After the campaign, Plo conspires to have the 212th and the 104th recalled back to Coruscant. There he could have Obi Wan meet with the council in person. Coincidentally Bruck Chun, with his commander Alpha-17, are also on Coruscant. Knowing that having troopers appear before the council without their associated Jedi would raise many eyebrows, Plo has Qui Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker, and Bruck Chun called to the Council with order to bring Commander Cody, Commander Alpha-17 (since Obi had indicated having Alpha there would make him feel better), and trooper Shield with them. Wolffe waits with them while Plo briefs the Council. The Jedi in the waiting room are curious and confused as to why this one specific trooper (Shield/Obi Wan) has been called in and why all of the present clones seem to be hovering protectively. 

They are called into the Council Chamber. Plo has told them very little (What Wolffe had told him plus that the non clone in question had been temple raised and was currently in Force Suppressing cuffs). In part he wants to see if the others will come to the same conclusions that he did. In part because while he doesn’t believe that any Jedi would have done what the clones think they did, he needs to be sure (and seeing their reaction to Obi Wan and his story first hand was the only way he could be). 

When Shield removes his helmet, the only person who recognizes him immediately is Bruck Chun, who blurts out “Oafy-Wan?” and then is horribly embarrassed about it (At 13 he had been a bully, but he had grown into a decent adult, particularly since he was fighting a war, and is embarrassed that his first thought when seeing the other man was the insulting nickname from two decades before). The clones are not impressed with Bruck Chuns reaction (Alpha is growling outright at his general). Before Bruck could apologize, Yoda said Obi Wan’s name. 

Obi Wan nods agreeably and says that is a name he has been called.  A question about the Force suppressing cuffs and collar (still covered by his blacks), has Obi Wan answering “Jango Fett insisted that I be unable to use the Force when I was given to him.” (Whenever he speaks of Jango, it is alway ‘Jango Fett’). It also becomes clear to the high council, Bruck Chun, and Anakin (though the latter has no idea of the backstory) very quickly that Qui Gon Jinn had lied to the council about how and why Obi Wan left the Order.

Every question that is asked of him seems to have a horrifying answer. When asked about The Young, he explains about the group of children trying to stop a war (the youngest was 5, the oldest 14 when he joined). The High Council grows very quiet as he speaks, this was not what they were told. Qui Gon Jinn shifts a little as a twenty year old lie is exposed, particularly as he is given a look from various members of the council that say they will be discussing this, soon. Mace asks why Obi Wan is so sure the Young are dead (as finding out how they died is one of the horrifically few things that Obi Wan is asking for). Obi Wan is silent for a moment then responds that he doesn’t for sure, but it has been 10 years and he hopes that the rest of the Young had found something like peace and that death was the most realistic way of that happening. He is asked why Obi Wan never tried to contact the Order during his year on Melida/Daan. He clones bristles at even the suggestion that their Shield was in any way responsible. 

Obi Wan gave a semi confused look and said “My comm unit, like my lightsaber, belonged to the Jedi Order. How would I have done that?”

 This was news to most of the Jedi present (Neither the comm or the light saber should have been taken). With the exception of Qui Gon Jinn (who admits that he should not have lied to the council but doesn’t think he did anything else wrong), Obi Wan (who has a skewed vision of how he should be treated), and the clones (who know this entire story and have moved onto anger) the entire room is abjectly horrified to realize that Jinn had abandoned Obi Wan in a war zone, weaponless, and with no way to call for help (Plo Koon in particular is halfway to breaking out the adoption paperwork for the entire GAR most of the time anyway, right now he is practically vibrating with the need to get them all away from a war). 

 Mace Windu brings the room back to order. He declares that the council needs to speak with Master Jinn (and the way that he said Qui Gon’s name indicated that the Master in the title might be temporary).  He asks Bruck and Anakin to escort the clones (with Obi Wan) to the healers so they could begin to get the cuffs and collar off.  It is up to Obi Wan if he wants to wear his helmet until he reaches the healing hall or not. The council could not guarantee out of hand that Obi Wan would be allowed to stay with Cody, but they would do everything in their power to make sure it happened. 

Just before they leave, Obi Wan bites his lip and visibly struggles with something he wants to say. When prompted he explains that he has (over the course of his time on Kamino) seen virtually every step in the growth and decanting process for the clones. Every step except one, where he believes that something is embedded in the brains of each clone. He doesn’t know what it is or what it does, but he asks that the Jedi Council investigate since he is afraid it is something that will hurt the clones. 

The walk to the healers was tense. Bruck and Anakin were both trying to silently work through what had just happened. It is a bit sad that neither are surprised at Jinn's actions. Vokara Che and Bant Eerin are the ones that meet them. Bant is angry with Obi Wan (because from her perspective he just left 20 years ago and never contacted her or their other friends again) but Bruck of all people stop her from saying anything hurtful by telling her there is more to it than she realizes.  

Once they have all piled into a private room, Healer Che asks Obi Wan to take off his armor (No there was no good reason that the various hangers on were allowed to be there, they just kind of kept following and no one said anything about it). Obi Wan requests that the head medic for the 212th be called down, as he has been the most involved with treating his injuries and so would be able to answer questions better.  Cody helps Obi Wan remove his armor (The cuffs affect the way that his wrists bend, making it harder to put on or remove certain pieces of the armor). 

When his top comes off, all movement in the room ceases.  The skin of his torso is a patchwork of green and brown (the bruising he received over the past 10 years was so regular and deep that even 8 months after Jango Fett died they were still healing. The only reason that he did not have actual nerve damage was his healing abilities).  While the Jedi in the room can barely react under the horror of what they were seeing, Alpha looks at the patchwork, pleased. He comments that it all looks to be healing well. 

Under the bruises were a map of scars, telling a horrifying tale.  The worst of which sat on each wrist and the base of his throat, metal digging into flesh and embedded in thick uneven scaring (A note on Obi Wan’s healing, as long as he lives he will heal. Things that should have become debilitating, life changing injuries heal into simple scars. Things that should have killed him because of infection do not. It does not speed up his healing, and though it takes much more he still bears scars).

When he is asked he tells them that the metal cuffs had been welded onto him. And yes he felt every minute of the metal being superheated.  Obi Wan would prefer to remain awake when the metal is removed (no they would not have to worry about him flinching because “Jango Fett did not like it when I flinched from the pain he wanted to inflict”). By the time he has won that argument, the 212th's head medic, Hypo, has arrived. 

The process of removing each metal band takes 3 Jedi healers working in tandem and hours of painstaking, deeply disturbing work.  They save the collar for last. As the last piece of metal was pulled from his flesh, Obi Wan inhaled sharply. 

“Three of the Young are still alive” he breathes, even as he doesn’t move.

Cody, who had been sitting carefully with Obi Wan, grips his hand. “Then we will help you find your family.” He promises. 

In a Cell in the lower levels of the Temple, Darth Maul perks up as he feels a familiar Force Presence. He calls attention to a guard and demands to see Obi Wan Kenobi. The guards do not know who this is but pass along his request to the high council, who are a bit confused.

I am not sure where exactly it would go from here.  I would kind of want to see the 212th being handed over to Obi Wan, though I am not sure how it would be justified. I figure that the first time that Obi Wan meets the Chancellor he has a bad reaction (Due to the Chancellor being one of the people that had experimented on them) but is able to hide it, and passes along his suspicions. They do eventually find the three other surviving Young (Nield, Cerasi, Roenni) as well as children that they (and various other members of the Young over time) had been forced to have, there was even a child who had been fathered by Obi Wan (Who does not remember this and is deeply unhappy with those facts) who have all also been experimented on.  

[2af-afterdark]

Jealousy Like You and Me

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M/M Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationships: Lucifer/MC/Satan Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Satan Additional Tags: afab!mc (you/your), Mc is a bit of a passive aggressive brat, they talk it out eventually, multiple partners, make-up sex, nipple play/sucking, pet names (kitten), mild smut, vaginal fingering Summary: After Lucifer and Satan had to flirt with someone else to occupy her time, you aren’t feeling so great. You’re upset but can’t tell them why, and they don’t fail to notice. It’s okay, because you’ll all make up in the end. A/N: Darling, be as selfish as your heart desires. You think I write all that Simeon smut out of pure altruism? Nah. I do it because I am down bad for that man and have thots. I would have loved to base this more off the Devilgram story, but I don’t actually know which one that would be? Gonna do my best anyway! Word Count: 1400

“Can I sit here?”

You looked over the rim of your book, locking eyes with Satan before curling up your legs and making yourself smaller on the library couch without giving a verbal response. Then, you went back to your book.

He sat next to you wordlessly, flipping open his own book and silently indulging in his story.

You and he hadn’t spoken all day. You weren’t ignoring him, per se, just not going out of your way to spend time with him. You couldn’t even really look at him for more than a few seconds before a torrent of emotions overtook you; rage, sadness, longing, confusion, admiration, and more. It was too much to try and parse through them, so you didn’t want to try. Silence was good enough as far as you were concerned.

Or, it would have been if not for the stomping you could hear approaching from down the hall toward your exact location. As Lucifer stormed through the door holding a bucket half full of what looked like thick, brown, bubbling… something that had a faint trail of steam wafting off the top. 

Lucifer glared down at Satan, looking as disgruntled as he possibly could. Satan returned his expression with one of barely contained mischievous glee that quickly turned sour as he took in the sight of Lucifer.

"Can I help you?" Satan asked incredulously.

Lucifer held out the bucket toward Satan with an impassive face. "Beel found your trash. Unfortunately for you, it seems he already ate a good deal of it before I could ensure you got it back to dispose of it properly."

Ah, it seemed they were going to fight as always. Yeah, you weren't in the mood for that, especially given the bad mood you were already in because of these two in particular.

You shut your book with an audible thud, drawing their attention to you instead of their asinine argument. "If you two are going to bicker, at least let me leave first."

"We're not arguing," Lucifer said. "This is merely a reminder to Satan not to leave his trash lying around."

"Mhm," you hummed with mild annoyance as you stood up and began to head toward the exit. "You have fun with that. I'm going to my room, where it's quiet."

You didn't turn around as one of them called your name, choosing to separate yourself before they did something stupid. Instead, you went straight to your room and curled up on your bed to finish reading. 

It wasn't until who-knows-how-much-later that you heard a knock at your door. With a sigh, you beckoned whoever it was inside.

Satan and Lucifer, of course. Great. Just who you didn't want to see right now.

"Yeah?" You try not to look at them, but damn if it isn't hard when they are both staring straight at you lounging back in your bed. If only you could crawl under your covers without making it a huge scene.

"Are you okay?" Satan finally asked.

"Peachy. Why?"

Lucifer answered that one, clearly upsetting Satan as he cut him off. "Because you've been distant lately."

You looked between the two of them. "Is this really the thing that gets you two to team up?" With a sigh, you closed your book. "I'm fine."

"Don't lie," Lucifer said.

"I'm not. It's petty and doesn't matter. I'll be fine."

Satan finally got a chance to speak. "Being fine eventually doesn't mean you are right now."

Your fingers clenched for a moment, knuckles flexing and loosening again as your eyes shifted to look away from their distressingly nonjudgmental gazes. Your throat felt dry as you opened and closed your mouth a few times while trying to find words that wouldn't come, eventually settling on simply saying whatever came to you.

"You love me, right?"

For the first time you can consciously remember, both of their faces twisted into clear confusion, shock, and befuddlement.

"Of course I do," Satan said on his behalf.

"We do," Lucifer corrected. "What would make you think otherwise?"

You bit the inside of your lip. "It… it sounds silly."

"It's not silly if it's bothering you." Satan stepped forward tentatively, watching to see how you would react. When you didn't show discomfort at his closeness, he came just a little bit closer still until he was next to you on your bed. "What is it?"

Why couldn't the ground just open up beneath you and swallow you whole so you didn't have to answer him? "The other day… you and Lucifer had to occupy Maddi and… I didn't like it. It felt awful to know you two were trying to sweep her off her feet."

Lucifer shook his head. "That didn't mean anything."

"I know," you replied. "I know you weren't serious and it was necessary but it hurt to watch my boyfriends be sweet with someone else. It felt like I was being rejected and replaced right in front of my eyes. I know you wouldn't do that, but it hurt all the same."

"Kitten," Satan leaned over and placed a gentle hand against your cheek, "we would never, could never, replace you. Especially not with Maddi of all people."

"I know." Your eyes were damp as you pressed your fingers against them to swipe the water away. "I told you it was silly."

"Yes, it is." You didn't know when Lucifer had gotten so close, but now he could touch you and pull your attention in his direction as Satan released you to him. "It's offensive that you'd think we could think of anyone but you. Do we have to prove that to you?"

Your face heated up and you couldn't look him in the eyes; neither of them. Even with that slight tinge of embarrassment, you slowly nodded. You wanted them – both of them – especially as you felt all that rage, sadness, longing, confusion, admiration, and more inside of you turning into unbridled love, comfort, and belonging.

Satan's hand dropped to slowly roam down your stomach, pulling up the hem of your top to brush his fingers against your skin and sneak them past the edge of your pants and underwear. 

He leaned in close to you, lips burning against your ear as his low, breathy voice whispered to you, "I'll make sure you never feel that way again. I'll carve it deep inside of you. Right here." His cool fingers began to tease at your sex, stroking your pussy lips inside and out until he could feel your wetness starting to coat the tips of his fingers.

Your head rolled onto Satan's shoulder as you braced against him. Your legs started to spread wider apart and welcome him deeper inside, small gasps of eagerness and surprise tumbling out of your mouth as he began to gradually get faster.

It was easy to fall into the pace he was setting and let go, drowning in the haze of euphoria spinning around your mind as he built you up. It was so easy that it jolted you upright when you suddenly felt something warm and wet lapping at one of your nipples while the other was flicked and pinched.

Lucifer's lips wrapped around one bud, sucking and licking at it as his fingers lovingly caressed the other. His eyes only glanced up at you for a second to see your flustered face before gently biting down to hear you gasp for him.

"It's insulting to think you'd be threatened by any other person." Lucifer smirked against your skin. "Who could ever compete with you?"

"I'm sorry," you whimpered out between gasping moans as Satan dug two fingers deep inside of you. "I should know better."

"Yes, you should," Lucifer said as he switched to lap at your other nipple.

Satan kissed the side of your face. "Since you need us to prove our loyalty, do you know what comes next?"

You shook your head, them long at both of their ministrations.

Lucifer crawled higher up your body, laying a wet kiss against your lips. "We're going to make sure you can never question who we love again. Now," he grabbed your hand and dragged it over the tent clearly pitching itself in his pants, "choose how we should show you, or else we'll be deciding how the rest of the night will go."

And he did mean the entire night.

[tommyspeakycap]

travelling england squad headcanons my exhausted brain just thought of

jordan pickford - won’t forget anything important but will get very confuddled and mixed up with stuff when he gets to boarding. hands his passport at the wrong time, can’t find his boarding pass when it is actually in his hand etc. talks really loud and does not stop talking to the person next to him on flights

harry maguire - won’t let anyone carry his bags for him bc he doesn’t want to be a bother. will have his boarding pass and passport ready to pull out whenever needed but will never just carry it in case it gets lost. mild dad on holiday vibes but discretely and will often be found in disbelief that some of these boys have survived as long as they have. will barely speak on the plane, doesn’t mind being sat next to jp bc he’s learned to tune his voice out.

kieran trippier - dad on holiday™️. will always have his passport and boarding pass at the ready, no muss no fuss, will go at the back of the group to make sure his children (he is responsible for mason, declan and jadon. also jesse but only when marcus isn't there) and he will inevitably pick up mason's passport when he drops it while being an idiot with declan and doesn't notice. will sit with the quietest person and/or alone so he can sleep. will under no circumstances sit with pickers - has to be at least three rows away and will be monitoring behaviour.

jordan henderson - another dad on holiday™️ but funnier (he is instead responsible for jack, phil and trent). gets annoyed when other people are messy/leave mess. probably takes passports off those likely to lose them right after they pass through customs and gives them back only when they approach customs at the other airport. will sit at the back of the plane alone so he can listen to alicia keys in peace.

harry kane - never late but also never quite on time but nobody says anything because he’s never the last one there. will usually congregate with The Dads and doesn't say much (read; he is usually found next to harry maguire both standing and enjoying the silence bc girldads)

mason mount - chronically late, always last to catch up while trippier taps his foot and checks his watch. will do the innocent mason giggle and get away with it. flight attendants think he’s adorable and airport workers love him because he travels with two basically empty bags cos he travels so light. will sit next to declan to begin with and eat all of his snacks while dec sleeps. they end up getting separated by one of the dads when they’re being too loud and/or fighting over the snacks mason has already devoured.

declan rice - waits for mason no matter what, packs extra snacks because he knows for a fact mason will (and does) eat most of his. is slightly scared to sleep on the plane bc of all the things they do to wake each other. he and mason somehow end up with each other’s passports and nearly don’t get through the border. defo has passive aggressive fights with ben over who gets to sit with mason and declan plays the 'I've known you longer' card that gets mason every time.

jack grealish - gets upset when ben and declan fight over sitting next to mason because chilly is supposed to be his bestie so he goes in a huff that hendo has to sort. 100% always has his passport in the front pouch of his bag (put there by hendo) so that when they get to security and he starts patting himself down freaking out and thinking he’s left it somewhere, his dad Hendo can tell him exactly where it is. annoys trippier because he drags his heels everywhere he walks and is constantly found asking; “hey has anyone seen my hairband” when it’s on his wrist.

ben chilwell - very easy going yet simultaneously anxious traveler. does not like how late mason leaves every, is NOT fond of how little he packs and will get antsy when take off time is near and people are still mulling around. he also gets annoyed when people ask him to borrow stuff but will never outwardly show it. he packs for every eventuality and believes everyone should be doing the same. films everyone, is low-key everyone’s favourite to sit with.

phil foden - gets upset when he’s told he not allowed to do keepy ups on the plane, absolutely will not have anything but a window seat, gets funny looks going through security and people often mistake him for much younger than he is. doesn’t mind who he sits next to as long as it’s not someone boring. is generally not a problem for The Travelling Dads except he's easily distracted and is susceptible to being left behind as he is smol plus mason and declan are hard work for kieran.

marcus rashford - oh my days when he’s alone he’s so quiet and then whenever jesse is there as well the two of them are insufferable. between mason and dec and jesse and rashy, jordan is glad for alicia keys through those noise cancelling headphones. will get annoyed with jesse and they WILL end up hurting each other and making up multiple time.

jesse lingard - so fully of energy at all times and nobody can figure out why. annoys rashy when he’s trying to sleep and that’s when they always end up in fights that nearly get them separated by harry maguire who is very used to putting up with their antics anyway. tries to convince them all to learn his celebration and spends the whole time messaging marcus and pouting when his bestie isn't there with him.

john stones - him and Kyle are basically joined at the hip as they r best friends. they always pre-anticipated and planned to sit together on the plane. he has a sixth sense and will physically be able to feel it when they lose phil (was an issue for the time he wasn't in the squad and John was like oh my god we've lost phil!) only to realise he wasn't ever with them. is very protective and always worries about forgetting things that he definitely has.

kyle walker - rarely acts his age but is kind of levelled out by john and can sometimes be very irritating in the same way that people get irritated with jesse because they're very loud. can often be found next to john and reassuring everyone he's faster than Raz. will forget things he define tally needs which pisses off John (because he asked a million times to make sure he had his boots) and gives chilly so much second-hand stress that he gets chest pains.

trent alexander-arnold - probably wants to sit next to hendo but he completely refuses (and sometimes feel guilty for it but he needs his alicia keys alone time). is quite quiet in comparison to some of the other younger ones but is equally as forgetful. will fume about the 'inflation' of the meal deal prices in the airport whsmiths and despite knowing he probs shouldn't cos international rivals, he spends a lot of time texting andy robertson.

[parkvcrs]

Hopelessly Devoted to You

SUMMARY: y/n finds a discord invite in her private messaging which leads to a rather interesting smp...

PAIRING: jschlatt x fem!reader.

WARNING(S): mild cursing, mostly platonic until the last line, etc.

NOTES: i would say that this is more of a platonic imagine but, then again, it’s also not? the boyz™️ make fun of y/n and jschlatt... so... take that as you will.

Y/n L/n sat at her monitor, scrolling through her unread messages on Discord when she saw an invite to a server in one of her private messages. Instead of questioning Tommy as to why he wanted her to join, she was much too exhausted and leisurely clicked on the join button — knowing that she was bound to leave within a few minutes since she could not find a stable server that she thoroughly enjoyed.

➜ Welcome, y/n. We hope you brought pizza.

Today at 7:09 PM

sapitus_napitus: who is that

Gogy: what

Quackity: oh 😳

Drè: Guys just kick them lol 😂

t0mmyinnit: wait shouldn’t we wait and see what she has to say tho?

sapitus_napitus: hdjejejwje

sapitus_napitus:

techno: have it your way tommy

techno: @y/n. are you a raider?

Y/n leaned back in her chair, taken aback by such accusations. Before replying, she scanned over the bots in search of disboard.com in an attempt to go for a trustworthy alibi for the time being although it most likely wouldn’t add up since they can just check Audit Logs and see if it adds up. She stared at her computer for a second, blinking, trying to think of the proper approach. One of them was to get defensive but she knew that would only result in suspicions and a potential ban. The other was to do it in an orderly fashion — act meek and coy.

y/n.: No, I’m not a raider. I would never think to stoop down to their level. In fact, I was invited here but I will not give any names since I don’t want to get him in trouble. Sorry to disappoint...?

Schlagg: ok which one of these little shits sent you the invite?

y/n.: Can’t you just check Audit Logs and see for yourself? It should show that the member shared the link with me, right?

Drè: Discord said that the Audit Logs show who generated a link, but it doesn't show who actually used the invite🧍‍♂️

tubbo: welp we’re dOOMED

t0mmyinnit: oh hi tubbo

tubbo: hi tommyy

sapitus_napitus: @y/n.

At the meme exchanged in general, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at Nick’s humorous direction on the matter. Instinctively, Y/n reacted with a “❤️” on the image. She always appreciated and enjoyed being included in jokes. Even if the situation at hand was nothing but tense.

y/n.: I love that so much! XD

After that, Y/n returned to the member list and came to find out that she was, in fact, the only female member. She gulped and then slowly went back to general where several people were typing.

techno: stop putting memes in general

sapitus_napitus: so ur THAT kind of mod

techno: admin.

sapitus_napitus: so ur THAT kind of admin :/

Schlagg: are you kidding me she isn’t banned yet

Quackity: SCHLATT DOESNT LIKE Y/N CONFIRMED

Schlagg: 😐

Drè: 😐

Schlagg: bc we don’t know how she got here, we don’t know her intentions, and I’m just pointing it out since we need to come to a decision to ban her or not but ok

Gogy: yeah...

tubbo: Maybe I should’ve just stayed offline today 😅

Y/n looked at Jschlatt’s message, a little taken aback by his passive-aggressiveness. She didn’t dare to reply in the same tone for she knew that this entire server was like blindly stepping minefield. One wrong step and it’s over for her. As she was halfway in typing her response, she got several pings from Tommy via their DM pleading her not to rat him out. Sighing, Y/n continued with her response to Jschlatt.

y/n.: Listen, Schlatt(?), I acknowledge that this situation is a little unsettling given that I joined the server without clearance from the others but, in my defence, I was invited by one of the members here. That must say something, right? Or not... depending on your relationship with him. It isn’t my business but I digress. I truly didn’t mean any ill-will from it. I’m so sorry that I annoyed you.

Schlagg: ..........

sapitus_napitus: I think she likes you bro 😏😳

Gogy: I—

techno: clay can you mute sapnap for a few minutes

sapitus_napitus:

Drè: I don’t want to mute him I want to see how this ends

Just as Y/n’s mouse hovered over the “Leave Server” icon, it disappeared — meaning that she was either kicked or banned from the server. She frowned at this, almost upset since she wasn’t finished when it came to easing their scepticisms and unease. After a few minutes, Tommy messaged Y/n to notify her that GeorgeNotFound was the one who kicked her. It came as a surprise to her because she thought Jschlatt should have been the one to give her such an outrageous punishment. She thanked Tommy for the information before her e/c eyes trailed to her friend requests and saw that she had one notification.

She let out a shaky breath and then pulled it up only to find out that Jschlatt sent her a friend request. She contemplated the pros and cons of accepting it but, after their first interaction, Y/n didn’t have the best outlook on him so she declined it.

She closed her eyes for a few moments but when she reopened them, she caught a glimpse of Jschlatt’s name again. He sent another friend request. She sighed exasperatedly and then accepted it. She hurried over to their new PM, desperate to get the first word in.

Schlatt

This is the very beginning of your legendary conversation with Schlatt.

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ October 23rd, 2020 ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

y/n.:

Schlatt: hey

y/n.: Hello there...

y/n.: General Kenobi

y/n.: You are a bold one.

Schlatt: cmon dont tell me thats a reference to what i think it is 😂

y/n.: The best movie franchise to ever exist? Then yes. 😌

Schlatt: lol

Schlatt: anyway

Schlatt: ig i just friended you to say sorry

y/n.: Oh, honestly, there is no need. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it but I disturbed and frightened you all so it was justifiable :):)

Schlatt: dont be like that

Schlatt: it wasnt okay

Schlatt: we shouldve heard you out but George just went ahead and kicked you

y/n.: I mean, Tommy was the only one that wanted you all to hear me out. 😅

Schlatt: so it was Tommy then? he invited you?

y/n.: What a minute 😀✋ you weren’t supposed to figure that out—

y/n.: 🏃‍♀️

y/n.: Please don’t tell the others. I don’t want Tommy getting in trouble.

Schlatt: nah its whatever

Schlatt: we’re pretty much over it by now

Schlatt: dont do it again tho 😂

y/n.: Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it again 0-0

y/n.: Sorry though 😬

y/n.: “it’s all good in the hood 🤓☝️”

Schlatt: WHAT

y/n.: What’s the matter? You no like? 🤌🇮🇹

y/n.: Wait, so, what is your name? Or am I getting into unwanted territory? Do you just want to call you “Schlatt”?

Schlatt: well my full name is Johnathan Schlatt but you can call me whatever you like idc

y/n.: WHAT SCHLATT IS YOUR R E A L LAST NAME?

Schlatt: sure is

y/n.: Oh my word, that is the best thing I’ve heard all day.

y/n.: That’s a new way of spelling Jonathan but you know what? I like it — it’s unique.

Their conversation lasted for hours, inevitably ending with Schlatt leaving to take a nap. To this, Y/n L/n smiled to herself, despite having little to no knowledge about Johnathan, she thought that he was charismatic compared to all the other guys she has met on Discord. It was refreshing, to say the least. So it came as no surprise that Y/n started to develop feelings for him.

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Kaeya Alberich

Words: 3,162

Tws: General yandere content, Kaeya being a dick

Summary: You’ve been trying to avoid the Favonius captain. He’s convinced you’re unsafe without him. If you don’t believe that, he’ll prove it to you.

"Traveler."

Your muscles tensed. The hairs on your skin raised up. How?

You turned your head towards the voice, a strained smile across your face. "Captain Kaeya!" You pushed with all your effort to make your voice sound pleasantly surprised, excited, sing-songy in the way anyone who knew you would expect upon being greeted with a familiar face. "What are you doing so far out?" You said it so very playfully, casually, as if it was a casual conversation maker and not a genuine question that burned in your mind.

What the hell was he doing so far out of his jurisdiction? What need does he have to be out all the way in Liyue?

Why did he have to show up when you specifically went out of your way to avoid him?

"Oh, I was looking for you. Asked around. Heard you were hanging around the area," He said, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of you, effectively cornering you in your little spot in the corner of the small tavern. He smiled, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them. "I just sent a couple knights out to look for you."

He made no effort to even try to hide it. He was completely shameless. That explained the Favonius knight that had appeared in the tavern earlier - you'd felt uneasy as you saw the man gaze around, halting when he made eye contact with you, before abruptly stepping out as quickly as he'd come in. You should have trusted your gut and left as soon as you could - but here you were.

When you'd first met Kaeya, you'd admired the young captain. He was brave, skilled, charming, and undeniably a very attractive man. His charisma made him a well-respected, well-liked person throughout Mondstadt, even if his reputation did include an arrogance that was just as well-known as his skill.

That was the issue - you'd noticed that trait, that one characteristic about the man that made you uneasy, that upset you so greatly that you had resolved to avoid him entirely. Well, three traits.

One, he was obsessive, clingy, attached to a degree far too unnatural for someone who had known you for such a short time.

Two, Kaeya was a little overly touchy. It was just on the border of your discomfort, too noticeable for you to feel okay with it, but too mild to feel justified in confronting him about it. Everywhere you went with him, you could always feel his hands somewhere on your person.

And three, Kaeya was perhaps the most condescending, self-righteous person you'd ever met. He was always, always right. You never knew what you were talking about. He always knew better. He was always smarter, you were always dumber. Or so he seemed to believe. You'd grown to be increasingly irked, insulted whenever he would treat you like some naive idiot, reminding you how you, some foreigner, had no grasp on reality in this world. Really, you were hopeless, you really should let him stay by your side, help your poor naive little self navigate the world, since you were so incapable on your own.

"Oh," you finally responded, snapping out of your thoughts, smile straining, trying to come up with some response to the utterly creepy truth he'd been so shameless to reveal. "Yeah, I came out here for a few days. Really, uh, pretty area."

"Mm. That it is. This place attracts a good deal of tourists," he tilted his head. "The route here is... Particularly dangerous, though. You didn't travel here all by yourself, did you?" His eye contact was unwavering, and you found yourself breaking away, opting to gaze downward. "Or were you... Accompanied?"

"Ah, I came here by myself," you answered. "I didn't encounter any dangers... Outside a few hilichurls."

"Hilichurls are responsible for quite a few deaths in the area. You shouldn't underestimate them," he remarked. "Really, that's an unwise decision, coming here alone... You really should have sought some protection."

"Oh, I'm pretty good with a sword. I can take care of myself."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Is that so?" His voice was amused. Condescending. As if you were a child, some little kid insisting on your competence. "I'm sure you'd fare well, if you found yourself surrounded by them. Or worse," his voice darkened, "some... Other forces. Plenty of bandits and other criminals walk the roads in the Mondstat region."

Isn't it your and your knights' job to deal with that?

"O-oh, I see. Well, it's a good thing I didn't run across any of those..."

"Yes, it is." The blunt statement left you feeling your stomach churn with awkward silence that followed. The undertone - the clear hint of frustration - of his voice made you shiver. "They could easily catch you off guard..."

You'd left Mondstadt almost solely to get away from him for a few days. You needed some respite. The irritation in you boiled over ever so slightly. "It's ok, I'm pretty sharp. I'm always on guard."

Since meeting him, Kaeya had been attached to you virtually every waking moment of the day - no, he insisted on being near when you slept, too. On the very day of your arrival, he'd insisted you sleep in the knight headquarters, despite how many times you repeated that an inn was perfectly suitable. It was safer, he claimed. Safest in the little spare room just down the hall from his own, where he could come check on you before you settled down for the night. The first time, you'd been startled, flushing as he stood in your door frame, thinking that the moment he realized you were barely clothed in your sleeping gown, he'd surely get flustered and leave, but he didn't, opting to talk to you for several minutes before turning away. That experience had been... uncomfortable.

He'd been everywhere you were, both inside of Mondstadt and, albeit a bit less, in the wilderness. You weren't even sure how he kept appearing exactly wherever you were - you'd be minding your own business, and a knight of Favonius would appear in your line of sight - soon after, Kaeya would always appear. No matter what time of day, no matter how far out you were, no matter what you wore or who you were with. Even if you had other people in a party with you, he insisted on showing up, as he claimed, for your safety. Sure, you had other companions that could try to guard you, but really, were they any valid comparison for a swordsman of his caliber?

You didn't need them, he could easily be more than enough, surpass any other companions you could take with you.

"Excuse me miss," a waitress approached. Oh no. "Did you and your friend need anything else?"

You knew what was coming, but he moved to speak before you could, snapping his head towards the woman. "No. Could you kindly leave us alone?"

The poor girl's eyes widened. "O-of course. My apologies." She quickly scurried off.

You'd never seen him be anything short of rude, even downright nasty, towards anyone that entered his presence. Somehow, you felt that he likely wasn't like that when it was just him - he was too clearly well-liked to be so rude all the time.

"Anyhow," he turned back to you, "I came here primarily to fetch you... Extremely important matters happening back in Mondstadt. That bard is looking for you. Something about Stormterror?"

Oh. That changed things.

"Something's wrong with him?"

"Mhm. Apparently so, but I don't have any details. Your assistance is needed immediately, apparently. Come," he smiled again, rising and extending his hand, "I'll take you back."

It shouldn't bother you - you should be grateful. You should simply sigh, and acknowledge that even if he was clingy, even if he was unnecessarily protective, there was nothing wrong here, there was nothing about the situation that should give you the feeling that it did.

It was a weight in your stomach, a twisting in your gut. Something instinctive, something in your deepest, most primal senses, was set off, a chill seeping through your blood. An innate sense in your very core that directed your actions, told you to get away.

But your trained sense of social decency rejected such an idea. He was being gracious, kind, helpful, and although he might put you at unease sometimes, Kaeya was known for being an upstanding person. And besides, logically, someone who seemed to like you so much wouldn't do anything to harm you.

You realized that you had frozen in place, briefly lost in your thoughts. He cocked his head. "Something the matter...?"

"N-no! No, I'm fine, I'm coming," you stood hurriedly, pushing the chair back as you did. "Thank you, Captain Kaeya."

He hummed in approval. "Of course. What kind of knight would I be, letting a defenseless girl wander back alone?" He paused. "I'll always protect you, so long as you actually bother to tell me when you plan to disappear." Despite his smile, there was an obvious hint of passive aggressive irritation in his voice, and you tried not to cringe in discomfort.

"Oh, aha, I'll be sure to let you know next time."

"I'd appreciate that."

You wondered how you'd apologize next time when you conveniently forgot your promise.

As you exited the little tavern, dropping mora on the bar for the owner, you felt a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the doorframe. The touch made you shiver, and it lingered, like a brand against your skin.

The walk back was lively, you weren't bored with Kaeya to talk to. Even if his conversation was primarily bragging about this or that, telling you all the oh-so-wonderful feats he'd accomplished in his time, it was better than silence, you supposed. You were back to Mondstadt fairly quickly - no hilichurl encounters, although you did briefly run across a few slimes that he insisted on taking down by himself.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" He stopped in the middle of whatever he had been going on about - honestly, you weren't paying that great of attention. 

"What? I-I'm fine," you responded, eyes wide.

"Really?" he looked at you with something like concern in his uncovered eye, brows furrowing with worry. "You look... a little sick." Suddenly, he pushed the back of his hand against your forehead. "You feel hot, too."

Well, now you did feel warm, his touch leaving a searing feeling on your skin. "A-are you sure? I don't think I'm..."

"No, you're definitely coming down with something." He glanced over in the opposite direction, where the city walls were not too far off. "You probably haven't even realized it yet. I could carry you the rest of the way, if you'd like."

"O-oh, ah, no, that's fine! I can walk... just... fine..." You found yourself trailing off, embarrassment making your face burn. 

"Well, why don't we stop by the Knights' Headquarters before we go to meet that... Venti, was it? We have a nurse there that could see to you."

"I..." you paused. Once again, that dreadful, sickly feeling rose in your stomach. Something telling you that something was wrong.

And again, you pushed it back. "Ok, sure."

He hummed in acknowledgement, swiftly moving towards the gates. "Let's hurry, then. Let me know if you change your mind and want me to carry you." He added a slight smirk to his last sentence. You weren't sure if you found it endearing or irritating.

Once you got back, as expected, Kaeya began directing you to the Knights of Favonius headquarters. And you followed him, all the way in, all the way down the stairs, all the way into the hall -- wait.

You figured perhaps he was absent-mindedly headed that way out of force of habit. "Uh... Kaeya, are you sure we're going the right way? This is..."

The same little tucked-away hallway that your rooms were in. In fact, you were literally coming up on your room.

He stopped, turning his head your way with a soft smile. "No worries. You're really starting to look like the blood is draining from your face... I just figured I can bring the nurse down here." He paused next to your room, then took a step back, motioning his head, as if to tell you to go in. "Just sit down, I'll find her and bring her this way."

The churning was stronger than before. Every hair on your body stood up. Every instinct you had told you something was not right.

Nonetheless, yet again, you didn't listen.

Your feet clicked on the stone floor as you walked through the door. It all occurred so quickly, your mind spun. It felt like a punch to the gut, the air knocked out of you, the impact pain pulsing as your back was slammed into the wall. Strong hands kept a bruising grip on your shoulders. The room spun around you, head dizzy and struggling to process. What snapped you into awareness was a cold, sharp chill pressed right up against your neck, and a firm knee pressed between your legs.

He had you pinned to the wall, sword hovering ever so slightly above the skin on top of your veins. You gasped for air from the impact. "K-Kaeya!" You managed to choke out. You couldn't form anything beyond that. Panic was surging through your body, mind overwhelmed as survival instinct tried and failed to find a quick way to get away.

"What's that?" He pressed his face forward, almost nuzzling it into your neck. You could feel him smirking against your skin. "I believe I remember you saying something about how you couldn't be caught off guard...?" 

You were vaguely aware that you would normally be angry - furious - over whatever was happening here, but primal fear still controlled your brain at the moment, unable to feel anything but panic. You trembled.

"This is what I meant when I said you should be more careful," he muttered. "You think you're so capable and strong, but look at how easily I could trap you... I could kill you, right now, so easily."

Your body shook fiercely. You felt tears begin to gather around your eyes. "I-I just... Trust... You..." Your voice was weak, frail, trembling harder than your body. "You're, you're my, m-my friend..."

"Mm, plenty of people will come along pretending to be your friend, (y/n). You're very, very lucky that I actually do have your best interest in mind." Finally, he lowered the sword from your throat. You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in, and you felt your knees give way, stumbling forward, quite literally falling into his arms. He dropped the sword in order to catch you, and it clattered to the ground.

Your shaking hands grasped his arms, fingers digging firmly into his skin, desperate for some sturdy stillness to cling to. There was a moment of silence.

"You see, (y/n)? Think about all the people that wouldn't just be proving a point like I am... All the people that might want to really hurt you... Do awful things to you... Aren't you grateful I'm not like that?" His voice was deeper than its usual tone, and you felt his chest vibrate as he spoke from where your head was pressed against him. It was low yet soft, almost a growl, yet almost a whisper.

You were breathing rapidly, forehead pressed against his chest. You didn't respond.

"I said, aren't you grateful that I don't want to hurt you?"

"Y-yes," you found your voice. You didn't know what else to say.

"And you understand now... You need me. You need me there to protect you from bad people. You're so easy to trick and overpower... So naive... Imagine what could happen if you get into this situation again, but for real... And I'm not there?" He reached one hand up, stroking the back of your head. "Surely, you understand that now, don't you?"

You nodded.

"That's good. I hope you remember that, next time you try to run off." He tsk-ed, tilting his head to rest his chin on top of your head, grip on your shoulder increasing, almost crushing. "Honestly, you should really just be guarded full time. I could probably arrange that."

As you began to calm down, the reality of the situation began to dawn on you. Anger rose in place of the fear. He had the audacity to do something like this, and blame you for trusting him? You wanted to speak up, say something, but that same primal instinct told you it was a bad idea.

This time, you listened. 

He gently shifted, setting you down on the bed. "Now, you really do look sick, truly. Tell you what, I'll just go see that bard in your stead, tell him you couldn't make it. We'll have to just figure something out. I'll tell the nurse to come down here."

"Wh-what?" You started to stand on your shaking legs. "No, I-"

"You really can't be going out," he grabbed your shoulders and firmly pushed you back. "Really. You'll just get worse. Better to recover faster, than prolong your illness, no?"

"I don't feel si-"

"You are sick." Once again, his smile was betrayed by the irritation in his voice. "Don't tell me you don't know about the Mondstadt influenza? No wonder. You're foreign, so you're probably highly susceptible to illnesses you've never encountered."

You'd been given a rundown of local illnesses by Lisa, actually, but didn't recall such a thing. "I've... Never heard -"

"You won't feel symptoms for several days after first showing signs. You're very lucky I'm used to seeing it." He pulled out a watch, eyebrows rising. "Oh, look at that. It's already time to meet the bard. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Wait-" 

"It'll only be a few minutes. I'll be back soon."

"Captain Ka-"

"Get some rest now."

The door shut firmly. You heard his heavy footsteps quickly sprint down the hall.

A nurse never came. Ten minutes passed, half an hour. You thought about trying to go find her yourself. Maybe he was actually being honest. Maybe you were sick. You almost wanted him to be right. You would prefer being sick to the idea that he might be lying to you.

You preferred worrying about being sick to worrying about the implications and meanings of the situation if he was lying to you.

You finally stood, resolving to go find a knight yourself, ask for directions to the nurse. Something. Anything to get your mind away from this, distract yourself from your brain's racing to process what had happened just before.

The metal lock rattled against the wood as you tried and failed, with increasing desperation, increasing heartbeat, increasing rapid breaths, to open the door.

[sankyeom]

the c in ceo stands for cute | k.yh

pairings: kim younghoon x reader genre: ceo au, secretary!reader x ceo!younghoon, strangers to lovers summary: in which your handsome boss is often mistaken as cold due to his good looks and forward personality, but is actually the sweetest introvert you’ve ever met word count: 7.2k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

“It’s been such a pleasure working for you, Mr Kim,” you told the CEO of the company you worked for, genuinely meaning every word.

Mr Kim beamed at you, eyes bright behind the large frames of his glasses. “The pleasure was all mine, Y/n,” he assured you. “You’re a marvellous help. My son is going to love you,” he was sure.

The heir of the Kim corporation, Kim Younghoon, was returning from getting his Masters degree from Harvard Business School just in time to take over after his father retired. He was a little young to be the CEO of such a large corporation, but Mr Kim had a lot of faith in his son, and spoke very highly of him.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” you smiled, even though you were lying through your teeth.

There had been enough rumours about Kim Younghoon going around for you to know what to expect. His schoolmates said that he was often cold to them, giving blunt answers instead of mingling with his peers, and having an air of superiority around him. You asked some of your older coworkers if they knew much about him, since you had only been Mr Kim’s secretary for a little over two years, and they feared him too much to have ever really approached him.

Of course you knew that it was unfair to judge a person by the rumours surrounding them, especially if you never even had the chance to meet this person, but there seemed to be no positive stories about Kim Younghoon at all. Sure, his face was plastered across billboards for being an excellent businessman and for having great instincts when it came to the stock market, but he never smiled in any pictures; not even the ones on his social media (which had millions of followers).

Mr Kim seemed to know you well, giving you an intentional smile. “He’s not what people expect him to be. You’ll see when he arrives,” he promised. You decided to take Mr Kim’s word for it and give the new CEO a proper chance, despite the fact that Mr Kim was very biased in this situation.

“I think it’s time for me to get home,” Mr Kim admitted, handing you his almost-full champagne flute.

The Seoul division of the corporation’s office had held a farewell party for Mr Kim, celebrating his many years of building up the company and all the people whose lives he impacted while he was CEO. “So soon?” you asked, helping him up from his chair. “You’ve only had one slice of cake.”

Mr Kim laughed. “I’ll take a good night’s sleep over a second slice of cake,” he assured you, taking your arm and letting you walk him to the elevator. “You know that I like you a lot, don’t you Y/n?” he asked you.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the man who was almost like a second father figure, and your most influential mentor. “Yes I do, Mr Kim. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I consider myself quite lucky,” he replied, saying his farewells to you before letting his chauffeur walk him to his car.

You waved as the elevator doors closed and sighed to yourself when Mr Kim was gone, looking around to see what was left of the office party.

You knew you were good at your job. Throughout high school and college, you found it difficult to figure out what you wanted to do with your life. All you knew was that you had good organisational and people skills, and you wanted to do something creative and exciting. At first, the idea of being someone’s secretary sounded dreadfully boring and time-consuming. But as you started to learn more about the profession, you liked the idea of being able to be apart of different projects as well as organising someone’s time.

“Hey, Y/n,” your coworker Kevin called over to you. He was someone you worked with a lot because he was a part of the design department, and no design ever went out without Mr Kim’s direct approval. “Where did Mr Kim go?” he asked.

You smiled, making your way over to him and the group of people he stood with. “Home,” you informed him. “I think he appreciated the party, but when he said he wanted to retire, he really meant it.”

Kevin laughed, raising his champagne flute in the air as a toast. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “Did he give you any details about the new boss?” he wondered, quirking an eyebrow in inquisitiveness.

“Not really,” you admitted. “He said that he thinks we’ll get along, and that he’s not what people expect him to be. But aside from that, he didn’t give me much.”

“Damn,” Kevin sighed. “I just want to know if he’s as scary as people make him out to be. I mean, attending a prestigious business school overseas and not making any friends? That seems kind of weird.”

“A little,” you agreed, accepting the champagne he offered you and sipping it. “I don’t know. I guess if you already have a decent set of friends at home, and your priority is to finish school as quickly as possible, then I can see why he might come across as unfriendly.”

Kevin hummed. “I suppose,” he agreed, downing his champagne. “Now c’mon. We need to dance and actually have fun at the party that you spent weeks planning,” he insisted, letting you finish your drink before dragging you over to where you had pushed chairs and tables away to make room for dancing. “Tomorrow, the new boss arrives. And if he’s half as bad as people say he is, you’re going to wish you had partied.”

You arrived at the office the next day an hour earlier than you usually did. You weren’t sure what time the new boss would be arriving at, so you just decided to be early. Fidgeting with your clothes, you smoothed them down as best as you could as you waited in front of the CEO’s office for Younghoon to arrive. You had already printed out a plan of things Mr Kim had left him to finish up for the next three months, but you didn’t have any more specific plans after that.

After half an hour of waiting around, hushed whispers rang around the office area. Taking this as a sign that Younghoon was on his way, you stood up tall with all of your papers, planner, and clipboard, and took a deep breath in to calm down. Not long after, Younghoon’s familiar face – which you recognised both from billboards, magazines and articles, as well as Mr Kim’s framed pictures in his office – appeared in front of you with two men trailing after him.

He was handsome in a chic way, with deep set eyes and high brow bones. His cupid’s bow was slightly pointed, and his lips in general were turned down into a sort of passive frown, as if he had a mild case of resting bitch face. All in all, he was intimidating. Tall, handsome, and rich. You dealt with men like this every day, but none of them looked at you as indifferently as Kim Younghoon was.

You put on your best smile. “Good morning Mr Kim,” you greeted. “My name is Y/n. I’m here to assist you with whatever you need. I’d like to go over your schedule for the next few months based on what your father already had planned, if now is a good time,” you told him, wanting to get that over and done with.

“Now is perfect,” Younghoon replied, allowing you to open the door for him before he let himself into his new office. You breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when he was inside, recovering quickly to smile at the two men he came with.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Y/n. I’ll be Mr Kim’s secretary,” you introduced yourself again.

Both men returned your cheery expressions. “Nice to meet you, Y/n,” the one with the dark brown hair greeted. “My name is Sangyeon. I’m the head of Younghoon’s security, but I’m mostly just an old friend,” he admitted. “This is Juyeon,” the man with the black undercut smiled, which made his otherwise angular face seem soft and cute. “He’s Younghoon’s chauffeur but he’s another old friend.”

“We’ll see each other a lot so I hope we get along,” Juyeon chimed in.

“I’m sure we will,” you promised, already feeling comfortable around them. The two men exuded positive energy and a carefree attitude, which helped to calm your nerves just a little bit. Following them into Younghoon’s office, you motioned for them to sit in the two seats in front of Younghoon’s desk, where he was already sat in his office chair.

“We can talk about redecorating the office after we discuss your schedule, if you’d like,” you suggested to Younghoon, noticing the way his eyes were darting around the office. It was left the same way that Mr Kim had wanted it, only most of the belongings that he cherished had been moved into his personal office at home.

“Don’t bother,” Younghoon replied in a quiet voice, leaving you to smile awkwardly at his friends. “You said something about my father having plans for me?” he added.

“Right,” you nodded, taking out Younghoon’s agenda and placing it down in front of him. “Your father had already agreed to a few things before he retired,” you explained. “As the new CEO, you’re expected to carry out these events. I’ve colour coordinated everything that you have set, as well as given you the time and location of every event,” you pointed to the different coloured sticky tabs. “Since we’re going into the last quarter of the financial year, it’s not as busy as the rest of the year but there are more charity-related events than at the start of the year.”

Younghoon held your gaze, taking in your worried eyes and your shaking hands. “How kind of you,” he decided, sending you a half-smile before thumbing through the rest of his journal.

You thanked him quietly, feeling even more deflated now than when you were waiting for him. “Just so you know, I’m going to be arriving the same time everyday as I did today. You don’t need to arrive before me, we can arrive at the same time. And please don’t call me Mr Kim. Mr Kim is my father, you may call me Younghoon,” he said in his calm drawl, done looking through his schedule and glancing up at you. “Can I keep this?” Younghoon motioned to the planner.

“It’s yours,” you assured him.

“Then that’ll be all for now,” Younghoon gave you another half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be familiarising myself with my father’s previous system of organisation and then I’ll meet the main teams this afternoon after lunch. Send the word out that I expect an update on what they’re working on right now, but I don’t want any presentations. Just an informal chat.”

“Of course,” you nodded, placing the stack of papers you were holding on his desk. “These are from legal, they need you to sign off on some patents by Thursday. I figured I’d give you some time to read through them and I can collect them from you Thursday morning,” you informed him. “My schedule for the day is always on this,” you tapped his desktop screen. “We have access to each others’ electronic calendars. It has everything that I put in your planner so far in it already. You can add whatever else onto it so I’m up-to-date. You can see my calendar so you know where I am if you ever need something and I’m not around. I’ll call the team managers right away and schedule your meetings with them.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” Younghoon said.

“Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” you offered, extending your words to Sangyeon and Juyeon as well.

“We’re good,” they assured you, Younghoon nodding in agreement.

“If you need lunch reservations, just let me know,” you smiled, exiting the room and almost collapsing onto your chair. After a moment to catch your breath, you picked up your phone and began to dial the number for Kevin’s cubicle.

“What’s he like?” Kevin exclaimed instead of answering.

You rolled your eyes. “Mr Kim wants a meeting with all the main teams. I’m having the design team go first so. How does 1 o’clock sound?”

“Fine,” he agreed, so you opened your laptop and updated Younghoon’s digital calendar. “Seriously, though. What’s he like? Apparently he didn’t smile when he came into the building at all.”

“Sound accurate,” you mumbled quietly. “I don’t know, Kev. I’ve only met him once. He seems like he’s focused and willing to do the job, so there’s not much I can say.”

“Yeah, okay. But is he a jerk? Unsociable?”

“Well, he’s no fairy princess,” you allowed. “That’s all I’ll say. Like I said, I’ve only met him once. And he’s the CEO of a huge corporation. We’ll have to see.”

“I guess so,” Kevin sighed. “Oh my god. He wants a meeting with all the main teams? I don’t have enough time to make a presentation, what am I supposed to do?”

“I think he wants to be caught up on the current projects and put some faces to the names, is all. Don’t worry too much. You’ll do great,” you motivated your friend. “Now I have to make some other calls, so don’t freak out, okay? Bye.”

As you hung up, Juyeon stepped out of Younghoon’s office. Automatically, you stood up to give him a smile. “Do you need anything?” you offered, earning a grateful smile from him.

“No, no, I’m just on my way to do some errands for Younghoon,” Juyeon waved off your concern. “Thank you, though.” You nodded, sitting back down and going back to organising the team meetings. “You seem like you’re good at your job,” Juyeon complimented. “Very organised. Colour-coded, even,” he added.

“That’s me,” you laughed. “Was it too much?” you wondered. “I mostly did it to kill time waiting for him to come into the office.”

“You’re all good,” Juyeon assured you.

“What errands are you running?” you inquired. “If Younghoon needs anything, I can do it for him. It is my job, after all.”

“Just picking up some stuff for his office,” Juyeon said vaguely, giving you a sheepish smile. Recalling the way that Younghoon disregarded your offer to help him redecorate his office, you felt the nervous feeling in your stomach rise up again.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” you said gloomily.

“He doesn’t know you,” Juyeon retorts. “And you’re great, really. If you were my secretary I’d be jumping for joy,” he promises. “You just… need to get to know him. He takes time to get comfortable with people.”

“Okay,” you smiled sadly. “Well, let me know if I can help with your errands. You can call the lobby and ask for me, they’ll forward your call.” Juyeon waved goodbye and you watched him walk out, slightly upset that Younghoon wanted his chauffeur to do your job, even if they were old friends.

“He’s scary,” Kevin told you when you came to check on him after his meeting with Younghoon. “The new Mr Kim is nothing like the old Mr Kim,” he added.

“What happened?” you asked, wondering what wound Kevin up so much. You knew that Kevin often overthought social interactions, as most socially awkward people do, but you had never seen him so jittery at work before.

“All he did was stare at us and take notes,” Kevin revealed. “He didn’t make any comments or expressions or anything. He just sat there, listened, then dismissed us like we’re school children.”

You winced. “That must have been tough,” you sympathised. “But I mean, it’s only the first meeting,” you tried to find a way to defend Younghoon, giving him the benefit of doubt.

“Sure, but first impressions are kind of important,” Kevin argued. “It’s not like I need to be his best friend the second we meet, but a little communication would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry, Kev,” you sighed. Just as you were about to offer to grab him some coffee, knowing how much he adored the bitter concoction, your phone rang. “Mr Kim,” you answered, seeing that it was forwarded from from your office.

“Younghoon,” he corrected.

You grimace. “Yes, Younghoon. I’m sorry, sir, force of habit,” you said, making Kevin cringe when he realised who you were talking to.

“Where are you?” Younghoon asked, his tone even.

“I’m taking my break,” you explained. “It’s on my schedule.”

“Yes, I see,” Younghoon hummed. “I’m looking at it right now. It doesn’t say where you are, though. I thought it was supposed to say that.”

You cursed silently. “You’re absolutely right, sir. I’m sorry. I can come back immediately,” you offered.

“Please do,” Younghoon said before hanging up the phone without saying goodbye.

“It is Mr Sunshine?” Kevin said sarcastically. “What’s up with you calling him by his first name?”

“He asked me to,” you shrug, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I gotta run. I’ll see you later?” Kevin waved and off you went back to your desk. “Mr- Younghoon,” you corrected yourself, finding Younghoon leaning against your desk waiting for you. “I’m sorry. What did you need me for?”

“You didn’t have lunch,” Younghoon said, tapping your laptop, which was open with your schedule on it.

“Pardon?” you asked.

“You didn’t take your lunch break, which means you haven’t eaten lunch,” your boss elaborated. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to lunch.”

Startled by his offer, you started shaking your head. “That’s alright, sir, I’ll just make a reservation for you.”

“I insist,” Younghoon retorted, taking his phone out of the pocket of his slacks. “Do you feel like eating anything in particular?”

“I’m not picky,” you said quietly, realising that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this.

“I’ll order in,” Younghoon decided, handing you his phone. “Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you attempted to argue, but Younghoon insisted.

Half an hour later, you were sat in the plush chair in front of Younghoon’s desk in his office, eating your noodles slowly as you observed your new boss. You weren’t sure if you were just misunderstanding him, or if he really was as blunt and cold as people said he was. However, you respected his father too much to make assumptions based on the first day of meeting him.

“My father speaks very highly of you,” Younghoon broke the silence in between bites of food. “He says that you’re the best secretary he’s ever had. And that you’re one of his favourite people he’s ever worked with.”

“Wow, that’s very high praise,” you said, stunned that Mr Kim even shared his compliments to you with his son. “I’m sure you and I will get along once we get to know each other better, too,” you offered.

Younghoon nodded. “People often misunderstand me,” he began. “I know that people think I’m cold and antisocial. Some people even think I’m arrogant,” a smile graced his face, one that was full and genuine. It lit up his sharp features and softened his entire face, causing him to practically glow. “The truth if that I’m just not very good at what I do yet. A lot of people have expectations of me and I want to meet them. But I’ve always been more reserved and introverted, so expressing that is hard for me.”

Pleased that he was opening up to you, you gave him an encouraging smile. “I understand,” you assured him. “I found this job really scary and hard when I first started. Mr Kim helped me a lot, and he made the office a warm environment where I felt comfortable.”

“I want to do that too,” Younghoon said. “But I also want people to take me seriously. I know I’m taking over much earlier than everyone expected me to, myself included, and I want to make a good impression.”

“You will make a good impression,” you told him. “It will just take some time.”

Younghoon nodded. “I think I scared the design team this afternoon,” he mumbled.

“You did,” you confessed, having just heard Kevin’s experience. Younghoon’s eyes filled with worry, brows furrowing together slightly. “But I think they would’ve been scared no matter what you were like.”

“I have a lot of positive things to say about them,” Younghoon told you, taking out his tablet and handing it to you. You took it, scrolling through the notes he took during the meeting. It was filled with compliments and suggestions to better the project.

“Kevin would love this,” you exclaimed. “These notes are very conceptual and visual, that’s exactly what helps him.” Handing his tablet back, you had to ask. “Why didn’t you say anything? Apparently, that’s what made the meeting the most daunting.”

“I didn’t want them to think that I thought I knew how to do their jobs better than them,” Younghoon confessed. “Because I don’t. That’s why they’re here.” The realisation that Younghoon was truly misunderstood hit you hard, and somehow it made you feel quite relieved. “I must have scared you this morning, too, then.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said easily. “Everything is still very new. Anytime you need help with this kind of thing, or if you’re unsure about anything, just talk to me. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Younghoon smiled again, and you observed how his handsome face could actually look quite cute. “Thank you, Y/n. Now eat your noodles before they get too cold.”

“Yes, boss,” you agreed, grinning before digging back into your lunch.

You first heard the news that the cost of company shares had plummeted from one of your friends in the finance department. Chanhee was good friends with you and Kevin, and he practically ran to your desk when he first saw the numbers going down.

“What happened?” you wondered, confused as to why the shares were going down in value all of a sudden. “Our most recent project was incredibly successful. Our shares should be going up in value more than anything.”

Chanhee bit his bottom lip, eyes flitting to the large oak door that led to Younghoon’s office. “He’s at a lunch meeting with a prominent fashion designer,” you explained, causing Chanhee to nod in relief.

“It’s Mr Kim,” Chanhee admitted, lowering his voice.

“Mr Kim?” you echoed. “Did he do something before Younghoon took over?”

Chanhee rolled his eyes. “No, I mean the new Mr Kim,” he corrected. “He only lets you call him by his first name,” he added, something that you hadn’t known. “When the news broke that he’s taking over, people started selling their shares at low prices. So, the value went down.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, confused. “But, he hasn’t even been here for a month yet? How can the public make such quick decisions on how he’ll impact the company?”

“Reputation is just as important as skills,” Chanhee reminded you. “You know that well. Mr Kim’s reputation is… Well, you work with him. I’ve been in meetings with him. He seems a little…”

“Cold?” you offered, sighing at the predicament at hand. Chanhee merely smiled, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Okay. We can fix this. I can talk to Younghoon when he returns from his meeting and-“

“Talk to me about what?” Younghoon called, stepping into the room with Sangyeon and Juyeon in toll.

Juyeon waved. “Hi, Y/n,” he greeted you, Sangyeon nodding in acknowledgement.

“Hi Juyeon, Sangyeon,” you replied, standing up from your chair as Chanhee trembled. “Younghoon, I was just talking to Chanhee about the company’s finances,” you said vaguely, giving Chanhee the chance to bow and duck out of the room.

“I’m assuming you mean the share and stock values,” Younghoon nodded, motioning for you to follow him into his office. “I saw it before heading into my lunch meeting. I don’t think it should be a big deal,” he decided, taking a seat at his desk as you closed the door behind you. “I can just have a meeting with the investors to explain my situation and get things straight. Once they know I’m reliable and competent, the matter will surely be resolved.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you confessed, causing Younghoon to pause in his action of opening his planner. “It’s just that reputation is very important here. Especially in large companies such as yours,” you added. “I think it would be best if we focused on stimulating your image more. So far, people only have rumours about you from your business school peers, as well as magazine and newspaper interviews to go off of. You’re still a mystery to the public.”

“I like my privacy,” Younghoon explained, a small pout forming on his mouth.

You averted your eyes from his lips. “But image is still important. Your father had the image of a friendly family-oriented man who raised money to build homes for the underprivileged population,” you recalled. “We could have some events to stimulate your own image. Parties, charity events…”

“You really think this will help?” Younghoon asked, eyes resembling those of a scared puppy.

The fact that he had terrified you so much upon your first meeting felt like a hundred years ago to you. Now that you had been working together for almost a month, you had seen how nervous Younghoon was. And how cute he could act. Seeing him around Sangyeon and Juyeon also helped. The pair was hilarious and they always brought out a happier, more relaxed side of Younghoon that you were pleased to see.

You knew that Younghoon just wanted to do well and make his father proud. He was less confident in his abilities than you thought he should be.

You nodded. “What should we do?” Younghoon wondered.

“I think we should find something that you enjoy and promote it,” you began. “What do you like to do, other than work?”

“I don’t have time for much else,” Younghoon thought. Whenever he was deep in thought, his head tilted to the side and and his eyes looked up at the ceiling as he mumbled under his breath. It was a truly cute sight.

“He likes music! He’s actually a pretty decent singer,” Sangyeon supplied for his friend, giving him an encouraging smile when Younghoon stammered a denial,

“That’s great,” you exclaimed. “We could talk to our charity department and look into funding music programs at schools. Arts are always underfunded and could use our help,” you suggested. “And I think that meeting with the investors is a good idea. But instead of talking about your qualifications and experience, you could talk about the direction you want to take the company in. Focus on the fact that you took over from Mr Kim the second he needed you.”

“Does that makes me sound soft and emotional?” Younghoon asked. “I don’t want to look weak in front of the investors.”

You smiled. “The investors are here because they trusted your father’s vision for the company, and they trusted that he was a family man who wanted to do good with the assets his company had.” You recalled the many meetings you sat in on with Mr Kim, and how much everyone adored him. “You take after your father. The fact that you finished business school early to help him with the company, and that you want to do well will please the investors.”

Juyeon laughed. “Your secretary knows this company better than you do,” he teased his friend.

Younghoon managed a smile, meeting your eyes amongst his giggling friends. “That’s why I need her,” he reminded Juyeon, a comment which made you beam.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo from advertising called out to you as you walked down the hall. He came rushing in your direction, despite the fact that you stood still to wait for him, holding a stack of papers in his hand. “Could you get these to Mr Kim for me?” he asked you, passing the papers on. “They’re the final proposals for the advertising of his charity event,” Sunwoo explained.

Younghoon’s meeting with the investors had gone really well, and he had definitely won their favours and respect. He mentioned wanting to invest in art and music programs because of his own passion for music, and had many ideas for a charity event to promote their program. The investors, always happy to go to a party and excited for the direction Younghoon wanted to take the company in, were overjoyed with his suggestion.

“Um, sure,” you agreed with furrowed brows. “Why don’t you just bring them to him, though? Your office is on the same floor.”

“Oh,” Sunwoo stared at you with large, round eyes. “Can’t,” he stammered. “Meeting. Gotta go. Thanks, Y/n!” he called, waving at you as he darted away in the direction of the elevator.

Ignoring his odd behaviour, you flipped through the pages to make sure everything was there before making your way back to your desk. When you arrived, you sorted out the notes you had photocopied for Younghoon from Sunwoo’s proposals, just as you heard another person call you name.

“Would you be able to give these to Mr Kim?” Changmin from human resources asked, showing you a thick stack of papers, stapled together in the top left corner. “They’re the human resources policies for the next financial year. He wanted to see them before the end of the week so he could sign off on them.”

“I can,” you agreed. “But his office is right there. Why don’t you just go in and give them to him? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you since he’s cooped up in his office all day.”

Changmin gave you a nervous smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I would, but I actually have someone on hold at my desk,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened. “Why did you bring me this while waiting for someone? Go, go! It could be important,” you shooed him away, earning a loud thank you from him before he rushed to get back to his desk.

Sighing, you stacked his papers on top of the ones you were organising and made your way into Younghoon’s office, knocking on the door to let him know you were coming. “Woah,” Younghoon stared at the large pile of papers in your arms as you entered, leaving the door open behind you. “That’s a lot of photocopied notes from your meeting with Mr Park,” he observed.

You laughed at his comment, spreading the papers out in three neat piles in front of him. “I also have Sunwoo from advertising’s final proposal for the charity event ads, and I have Changmin from human resource’s policies for the next financial year.”

At your revelation, Younghoon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “They hate me,” he whined, looking at you from in between his fingers. “They don’t even want to come into my office. I always wonder if people are meeting their deadlines, since nobody ever comes to see me. But they just like you better than me.”

“They don’t like me better than you,” you deny, causing Younghoon to laugh ironically, removing his hands from his face so his pout was visible. “They just know me better than you! You’re still their new, cool, super educated boss. They haven’t gotten to know you yet.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled, flipping through your notes. “How do I get them to know me better?”

“Well, it might help if you don’t just stay in your office all day,” you suggested unsurely. “You don’t seem very… accessible to them.”

“But I like being in my office,” Younghoon told you. “It means you’re just a single door away. I like when you’re close by. It makes my day better.”

Your eyes widened at his unexpected compliment, causing Younghoon’s expression to follow suit. He laughed awkwardly, pink dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. “Was that inappropriate? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he apologised quickly, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly away from you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad that you’re comfortable around me.”

“I’m more than comfortable with you,” Younghoon corrected, standing up from his chair to be at eye-level with you. His tall presence used to want to make you cower away, but now that you knew Younghoon personally, you felt secure enough to meet his eyes and lean into him. “I’m… safe. Happy, even.”

The admission made you grin, not minding the way you could feel his breath against your cheek or the fact that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I make you happy?” you whispered teasingly, relishing in the way that Younghoon’s cheeks darkened even further, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Blissful,” Younghoon corrected, his eyes shining with warmth.

“This is cute,” a voice called behind you. You startled, turning to see Juyeon and Sangyeon standing in the doorway of Younghoon’s office, smirking at the two of you. Sangyeon had spoken, looking like he was ready to burst into giggles at any moment. “Do you guys always make fond eyes at each other when we leave you alone?” he teased.

Ignoring his comment, you greeted the two with a smile and excused yourself from Younghoon’s office to go cool off; you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment and wanted a moment to catch your breath.

In the time that Younghoon had taken over as CEO, you had gotten to see many sides of him. On the first day, he was open with you after making a bad first impression on you and you had decided that you would give him a chance. You hadn’t realised how shy and cute Younghoon could be. Of course, he could be loud and carefree around old friends like Sangyeon and Juyeon as well, and he was slowly starting to make jokes with you as well. Now, he was saying that he felt downright blissful when you were around.

The change made you really happy.

On the night of Younghoon’s charity event, you had arrived early to make sure everything was in order. Dressed to the nines, you had to admit that you were pleased with how you looked that evening, putting in a lot of effort since you knew that the event meant a lot to Younghoon.

After discussing how the dishes should go out with the catering company, you allowed yourself to take in the large ballroom now that it was empty and before it would be overcrowded with rich investors, businessmen, and press. Just as you were going over the schedule for the evening with the event planner, you heard a sharp intake of air behind you.

“Wow,” you turned around, revealing Younghoon standing there breathlessly.

He wore an elegant black suit and tie, topped off by perfectly styled hair and his usual silver watch that his father had given him for getting into Harvard Business School. Younghoon always looked handsome, but in this moment, he was absolutely radiant. He looked like he belonged at this event, like he was the CEO of the Kim corporation.

You smiled. “I could say the same,” you complimented, motioning to Younghoon with your hands. “You clean up pretty nicely.”

“Ah, well, my secretary did get my suit perfectly tailored to fit me,” Younghoon said, smoothing down lapels of his suit jacket with a beam.

“Your secretary must be smart,” you replied, stepping towards Younghoon and adjusting his tie properly. “Because you look great. Dignified, sophisticated-”

“Handsome?” Younghoon asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You know you’re handsome,” you retorted with an eye roll.

“Maybe,” Younghoon shrugged, placing a hand on top of yours on his chest. You froze at his action, glancing up at him through your lashes. “But I want to hear what you think.”

“You look very handsome,” you allowed, trying to speak as smoothly as possible without indicating how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“If I look half as good as you, I’ll be happy,” Younghoon replied, gently releasing your hand and clearing his throat. “You did a really great job arranging this event. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Well the event planner organised it, I just told her what you wanted,” you said humbly, denying the large part you had in the event.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Younghoon told you. “If I know you at all, then you were constantly jotting down details that I mentioned vaguely and made sure that the event planner fixed everything to my preference,” he paused. “And I’d like to think that I know you quite well.”

“Believe me, you do,” you answered. “And thank you. For seeing the work I put in.”

“It’s you,” Younghoon shrugged. “I always see you.”

As the event began and more guests started coming, you were delighted to see Mr Kim enter with Younghoon’s mother on his arm, beaming at all the familiar faces he saw. “Mr Kim!” You called out to him, not having seen your old boss since his farewell party.

“Y/n,” Mr Kim replied, accepting a hug from you and releasing you so you could greet his wife. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Mr Kim,” you admitted. Of course you loved working for Younghoon too, but you hadn’t seen Mr Kim in far too long.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n,” Mr Kim promised. “Although, I’ve heard a lot about you from Younghoon any time we meet. It seems that you’re all he has to talk about, more so than his company,” Mr Kim narrowed his eyes at you playfully, a knowing glint in his eyes. “He seems quite taken with you.”

Taken with you. You could feel the butterflies start to wake up in your stomach as your heart beat a little faster at Mr Kim’s implication. “He’s wonderful to work with,” you told him, brushing off the way Mr and Mrs Kim were both giggling at you. “You’ve raised an amazing man.”

“Well, he certainly make us proud,” Mr Kim allowed. “You look nervous. You should be relaxing, Y/n. You planned a very successful charity event.”

“I’m more nervous about Younghoon behind nervous,” you admitted. “I just want him to know that he’s doing well. He always thinks he’s not doing good enough even though he’s gone above and beyond.”

“He might relax if he sees you have some fun,” Mr Kim said, stopping a passing waiter to get champagne for himself, Mrs Kim, and you. “A toast to Y/n and Younghoon’s partnership,” he proposed, causing the three of you to clink glasses and sip the bubbly beverage.

“Mum, Dad,” Younghoon appeared at your side, greeting his father and then his mother with hugs. “I didn’t know if you two would make it tonight.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Mr Kim assured his son, causing Younghoon’s lips to spread into a wide smile. 

“You did great today, Younghoonie. You and Y/n have a lot to be proud of,” Mrs Kim added.

“Thank you, Dad, Mum,” Younghoon was ecstatic to hear praise from his father. “I couldn’t have done it without Y/n, though. I’m grateful that you hired her.”

“I bet you are,” Mr Kim hummed, winking at his son before facing Mrs Kim. “How about a dance?” he offered, excusing themselves and making their way to the dance area.

When you turned to face Younghoon, his face seemed to have reddened. “What did my dad tell you?” he wondered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Um, just that you talk about me to him a lot. And that you’re quite taken with me,” you recalled, realising how romantic Mr Kim’s descriptions were.

Younghoon whined embarrassedly, shutting his eyes as if it would make him disappear. “I told him not to talk to you about any of that, I wanted to tell you all that myself…” he muttered, opening his eyes to see your curious expression.

“All what?” you asked dumbly, hoping that you weren’t just getting your hopes up at Mr Kim’s implications.

“The way I feel about you,” Younghoon explained nervously. “I wanted to tell you… Tell you that I’ve loved working with you these past few months. That you make me nervous and excited and happy whenever I’m around you. How hearing your voice makes my day and how I can barely contain a blush any time we’re alone. That I’m falling in love with you more and more every single day…” he trailed off, gently taking your hands in his. His touch was familiar now. “I didn’t want my declaration to be in such a public place, though,” Younghoon’s eyes flitted around he crowded ballroom.

You laughed, tears blurring your vision just slightly. “It’s fine,” you promised him, lacing your fingers through his. “I don’t care where you tell me, as long as I know.”

Younghoon nodded, taking your comment as permission to pull you closer to him. “This is the part where you tell me that you feel the same,” he whispered, close enough in proximity for you to hear his murmur above the noise in the ballroom.

“You seem confident that I return your feelings,” you mentioned, trailing your hands from his up his arms, across his shoulders and eventually to rest on the back of his neck. “What happened to the sweet, introverted Younghoon that couldn’t even smile at me when we met?”

“Precisely that: I met you,” Younghoon told you. “Now, if you’re not going to tell me that you feel the same, you should at least kiss me,” he added as an afterthought. “It would only be fair.”

“Well, in the name of fairness…” you trailed off, lifting onto the balls of your feet to lean up and press your lips to Younghoon’s. 

The pounding in your heart only intensified, encouraged by the way Younghoon smile against your lips before returning your kiss. In that moment, it didn’t matter that you were in public at all. All you could focus on was the way Younghoon’s lips felt on yours and how he pulled you impossibly closer to him with each bruising kiss.

“Disgusting,” you heard a voice mutter, easily recognising it as Juyeon’s after months of seeing him almost every day. Reluctantly, you pulled away from Younghoon, glancing sideways to where Sangyeon and Juyeon were sipping on champagne to hide their excited smiles.

“You guys know that you’re in public, right?” Sangyeon added.

“It’s my event,” Younghoon shrugged. “If I want to kiss my secretary then I will.”

“I hope you don’t go around kissing all of your secretaries,” you retorted with a laugh.

“Just the one I’m in love with,” he replied, sending you a wink that made your heart flutter.

note: this was a long one but i hope you still enjoyed it!

[jangofctts]

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy 

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.  

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn​ THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are. 

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that? 

Not much, as it so happens. 

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding— 

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail. 

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought. 

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in. 

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.            

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics. 

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…  

So you ran. 

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.    

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.  

Maker—how did everything become so tangled? 

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out. 

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift. 

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.  

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.     

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground. 

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.  

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and— 

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times. 

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving. 

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”       

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.   

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz. 

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now. 

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.      

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”  

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.  

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.  

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”   

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.   

“No more bounties.” 

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.  

“No more hunts alone—“  

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.” 

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.  

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”   

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”    

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”    

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire. 

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. 

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails. 

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”    

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.   

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.   

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.  

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.    

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble. 

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.      

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night. 

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over. 

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits. 

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.  

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.  

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.   

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.    

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you. 

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”       

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow. 

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—  

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.” 

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.  

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.       

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”  

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.        

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.   

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.   

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.     

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.   

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous. 

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”  

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh. 

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?” 

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”    

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers. 

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling. 

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal. 

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“ 

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.       

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.   

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.  

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.” 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.  

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.  

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you. 

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now. 

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"  

He continues without missing a beat. 

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck.  “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity. 

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.    

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly. 

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.   

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.   

Maker you hate this fucking planet—   

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up. 

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.           

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”    

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.      

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar— 

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.    

You were right. 

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand. 

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”     

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.   

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants. 

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought. 

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath. 

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.  

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.  

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward. 

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance. 

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.          

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.  

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs 

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips. 

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.” 

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up. 

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you. 

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.           

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips. 

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.” 

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. 

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.  

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.      

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.    

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.     

Another time for that game maybe. 

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you. 

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.” 

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.  

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.  

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works. 

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.      

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.” 

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind. 

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.  

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things. 

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.��

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss. 

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue. 

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?” 

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.            

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent. 

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.   

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat. 

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” 

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches. 

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.         

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been. 

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[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 5

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 4.7k

chapters: 5/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”. 

Rationality within Carol’s pack was often treated like a talking stick; only one person could have and use it at a time, and stealing it required either brute force or a clever trick—which was why she and Loki fumbled it back and forth so often. Sam seemed to have snatched it for a moment, until their omega’s sharp tongue made him fumble. She was cutting and brutal, as wild as she’d looked the first time Carol saw her: covered in mud and blood, half soaked from the bath and thrashing violently while Thor and Peter tried to gently get her in the tub.

The blonde figured it was time to regain the upper hand over their omega and came to stand at the top of the stairs, eyes locking on Sam from behind. He was turning the corner from patience to frustration, their little omega’s demeaning comments making the muscle in his jaw clench. It was impressive though; any of the other alpha’s in the house (plus herself and maybe minus Peter) would’ve had her nose in the corner by now, bent over to hold her own ankles and struggling for balance so that her forehead didn’t press against the wall lest she earn herself a spanking for being sulky.

“Alright Sammy, tag out,” Carol made sure that there was an undertone of mirth in her voice, hoping to bring the other alpha out of his anger. “You should probably go check on dinner and—Bruce, test results?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the beta nodded, immediately headed for the stairs. “Her hormone analysis should be ready at the least.”

The moment her eyes landed on the little omega on the bed, Carol felt her heart melt just a bit. Despite the vitriol she’d been spitting just moments before, the precious thing looked like an angel sprawled out in their den. All she wore was one of Thor’s t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs and perfuming her scentless skin with his musk—she couldn’t wait until the suppressants were out of their omega’s system, Carol desperately wanted to know what she smelled like.

“Sammy?” The blonde prompted when the male alpha didn’t move, leading him to sigh.

“Yeah babe,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the omega’s forehead, ignoring how she shrunk back into the pillows behind her. “I’m out. Take care of her, beautiful.”

Sam stopped to press a kiss against Carol’s cheek on his way down the stairs, gesturing for Tony to follow. The genius rolled his eyes and huffed but followed nonetheless, only after tossing a wink at the scowling omega huddled in what would hopefully soon be a nest. Carol waited until they were both down before returning her attention to the younger woman, stomach filling with butterflies.

Carol had wanted an omega since she presented as an alpha at twelve. 90% of the people she interacted with thought she was such a waste—a female alpha? Objectively, a useless combination. Female alphas were weak and passive, certainly not strong enough to lead a pack or produce strong alpha babies. If only she’d been a delta or a beta, she could’ve at least carried children. She’d always been fully aware that society’s perspective was incredibly flawed; she was as dominant as any male, just as potent and just as strong. Stronger even—more recently by unimaginable levels.

But omegas rarely looked negatively upon female alphas. Omegas preened and clamored for the attention female alphas provided, they saw it as more tender and careful. Carol didn’t know if she exactly agreed with that either, but at least an omega would never look at her and consider her a very pretty waste.

Or so the blonde had thought, right up until making eye contact with the sweet-faced omega her pack had managed to stumble upon. She certainly didn’t look pleased, her glare verging on incendiary.

“You sure are feisty,” she felt her lips quirking at the corners, especially when the omega seemed to puff up like an angry kitten. “What you said to Sam wasn’t very nice. You gonna hiss at me too?”

The answer was a resounding yes, the cute, clicking cub growl she made only reinforcing Carol’s gut instinct that the little omega was perfect. She liked that fire, it wasn’t disrespectful—it demanded respect and the blonde could certainly understand that sort of attitude. Considering her omega’s evident disdain for modern presentation centered care, it could even be considered mild.

“Claws away, baby,” she ordered, tone amused and the smile still curling her lips as she toed her shoes off at the edge of the bed. “Be a good girl for me now.”

Carol pressed the omega flat to the bed before she could fight, plastering herself against the half-naked woman and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Scenting deeply made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head—the faint scent of panicking omega wafted off her skin, only noticeable at such a distance. Thank God the Hulk picked it up, the alpha’s senses so incredibly strong that even while masked by Bruce’s beta he had picked up the faint whiff of omega; if Bruce hadn’t prompted Steve to scent carefully they might not’ve found her. Carol hadn’t been the only one in the pack desperate for an omega.

Thor had been… devastated to learn of the lack of omegas on Earth. With the destruction of Asgard and the remaining population’s relocation, it had been another gut punch to the alpha prime who’s people had already endured so much. He’d spoken at length about how omega Aesir were different than humans’ and the tone of longing and sadness in the prime had radiated through their entire pack.

The deltas, Bucky, Tony and Loki had all realized years ago how sorely their dynamic suffered without an omega. A delta’s overwhelming physiological drive was to provide support and comfort to pack members, their intuition let them see their packmates in a way the other presentation’s couldn’t replicate. Their pack’s deltas were all incredibly intuitive, beyond the norm, and without an omega to properly direct them they got manipulative. It was rarely antagonistic or cruel and if there had only been one delta in the pack, it would’ve slid by without notice—but deltas perceived the deception where others didn’t and it usually led to dissent amongst the three.

And while Steve had never said a word, Carol knew that as a sickly little beta he’d dreamt of being ‘strong enough to deserve an omega’. Bucky had mentioned it briefly—as had Tony, who’d heard it from his father at least biweekly. Steve loved omegas; he loved that they balanced an incredible strength with equal fragility. The very nature of them spoke to his inner artist, ‘his inner romantic,’ Bucky had teased. Now that he was a big ass alpha prime? He could deserve an omega now, he was strong enough now.

Their omega was practically a miracle, considering how few of them there were—so few adults, especially. Some claimed the overall population of omegas was going up despite the overwhelming evidence of the opposite and besides, the number of omegas born every year didn’t matter when you had packmates approaching their mid-forties. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were getting up there, as everyone liked to tease. Finding a reasonably aged omega that was also unclaimed? They’d never even considered the possibility, it was unfathomable.

Carol had consoled herself with the knowledge that her pack loved her deeply, found no fault in her gender or presentation. She knew it would take time, but soon her omega would realize the same. There was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t need to hide or put on a façade; not in their pack, not under their protection. Whatever the omega had gone through in her life must’ve been traumatizing, the blonde could only assume some sort of abuse, and it would be tough to instill confidence in her. They’d need to build her back up from scratch.

“You know, if you’d let Wanda search your mind, we’d have a much easier time understanding what’s going on,” the blonde murmured into the omega’s neck, nose brushing back and forth over her left scent gland. “Will you tell me why you’re so scared? Are you afraid of alphas or of packs? Or deltas?”

“I’m afraid of being trapped forever by a bunch of fucking rapists and kidnappers!” She spat furiously in response, struggling futilely under Carol’s careful grasp. “Get your fucking face out of my neck!”

“Packs it is then,” Carol sighed, lifting her head but keeping the woman pinned beneath her.

“You’re so shifty ‘mega, calm down. There are some horrible people out there, we know that better than anyone, and I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever it was.”

The omega froze, muscles pulling so tightly that she started to shiver. Her lips pursed, jaw clenching and her eyes got dim, lashes fluttering as she looked into the distance over Carol’s shoulder. It was a dead-eyed stare, one the blonde had seen before. Her baby was half trapped in a memory, tightly clenched hands clawing at Carol’s shirt and trying to force her body away.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, come back—” Carol cooed into the omega’s ear, holding her tighter as she struggled. “You’re with me baby, you’re safe. Breathe with me, come back to me.”

“Would you fucking get off!” The omega choked, sounding both parts desolate and frustrated. “Why don’t you people fucking listen? Am I speaking gibberish?”

“I’m sorry you’re so angry omega,” the blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, sadness permeating her expression as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the omega’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t get off—you need the pheromones, the alpha contact chemicals. Even if you’re traumatized, once the suppressants you’re on start to wear off you’re going to have to submit. We need to start practicing now so you can get comfortable with it, before it’s critical for your health.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re not sorry! If you were, you would’ve let me go. You wouldn’t be holding me here! I don’t need or want your help, I don’t want to be in a pack!”

“I hear you, baby, I promise I understand what you’re saying,” Carol carefully pinned one of the flailing omega’s arms down with her knee, reaching up to stroke the woman’s face. “You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to have a pack, I’m sure you don’t want to be bonded to us. But you’re on so many suppressants baby, there are so many mind-altering chemicals in the shit you were taking—”

“If you force me to stop taking them I’ll only be under the ‘mind-altering’ chemicals produced by the other presentations and—and this stupid collar forcing my body to produce addictive chemicals at a rapid rate,” she argued, “you want to argue that I’m out of my mind like I can’t be trusted with my own safety! I’m fully conscious, I’m not stupid, I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. The only thing that’s going to fuck up my personal agency is you!”

“We’ll know for sure when Bruce gets your test results back,” Carol sighed realizing how unlikely it would be for her to get through to the omega. “Tony’s having some equipment dropped by in the morning so he and Bruce can run some more. If your hormone levels aren’t entirely trashed, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You have to let me take my suppressants tonight then,” the omega pushed against the blonde again, grunting with effort and irritation when she didn’t move at all. “Otherwise the test results from today won’t match the ones tomorrow, missing a dose will entirely trash my hormone levels! The tests won’t provide an accurate reading!”

Carol was shaking her head before she’d even finished the explanation. “No way, there’s a reason those are illegal, baby. They’re so dangerous—”

“I’ve been taking them for fifteen years and I’m completely fine, come on—”

She watched the omega’s face fall when she sighed, “it’s not gonna happen baby. This one isn’t up for debate.”

“This one?” The omega scoffed bitterly, lips twisting as angry tears collected in her eyes. “Nothing is ‘up for debate’. I’m here, aren’t I? Obviously against my will. I’m not even wearing my own clothes, you won’t let me move! You’re acting like this is the one bit of agency you’re planning to strip from me but you’re either too stupid to realize that or you’re too caught up in the idea of having a house bitch to care!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Carol frowned, thumb smoothing over the crease between her brows. “We’re not looking to ruin your life, baby. The last thing we want is to make you meek or take away your ability to make your own choices, but we have to take care of you.”

“Y-you don’t though,” she hissed, breath hitching as she fought not to cry in front of the alpha. “I’ve been taking care of-of myself for years. I’ve never had a problem I’ve—I’ve never been attacked or assaulted or—”

Carol shifted until the omega was cradled in her lap, easily blocking the omega’s attempts to escape her grasp, “If that’s true baby girl, I don’t think you understand how rare it is—or how it would mean you were poisoning yourself so thoroughly that no alpha could scent you. There’s too many people out there would hurt you just for being you; the only way for you to be safe is with us, where you don’t have to keep taking the pill equivalent of drinking gasoline and bleach.”

“I should have the choice!”

“The choice to slowly kill yourself?” The blonde looked down into the omega’s face in disbelief. “No one in their right mind would allow another person to suffer like that.”

Their attention was suddenly and brutally drawn to the stairwell, both of their hindbrains reacting to the scent of overwhelmingly aroused alphas accompanied by raised voices and shouting. The omega in her lap went completely and utterly still, instincts locking down all movement as if it could prevent her from being seen. Carol sighed quietly through her nose, nudging her forehead gently against the charming little creature hiding against her chest. She couldn’t really tell what they were yelling about but she figured it had something to do with whatever Bruce found.

“Someone has to—!”

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“It should be—!”

The blonde cracked her neck, arms slipping around the waist of her omega and locking in place like iron bands. The cowering made it easier for Carol to snuggle her tightly against her chest, wiggling them carefully as several pairs of feet began stomping up the stairs, until the omega was entirely engulfed by the alpha from behind. Steve and Thor made it up first, shoulder to shoulder and passive-aggressively nudging each other in the ribs. Sam was next, along with Bucky—both of whom were being decidedly antagonistic to poor Peter who followed behind.

“Would you guys shut the hell up? What’s going on?”

Before anyone else could respond Bruce forced his way between the group of more dominant males, eyes flashing green even as he attempted to shake it off, “the amount of alpha pheromone in her blood is so low it’s amazing she isn’t in shock.”

“What?!” The omega snapped furiously, eyes darting between the people standing around the room nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with me—!”

“Carol, hold her,” Steve ordered, as if the blonde hadn’t locked the omega down the second they heard them coming. “Thor, how are we gonna do this?”

Both primes looked almost pained, their faces painted with grimaces as they exchanged glances. Their struggle was easy to identify; neither wanted to cause any strife between them, damage to their partnership would damage the pack but they wanted to be first. Their hindbrains could barely function beyond the desire to fuck their omega, their pretty, sweet little omega who desperately needed alpha semen because her body would stop functioning without it. Primes always got first take on omegas, but when there were two primes in a pack things got dicey.

“Have one of us do it,” Carol chimed, carefully maintaining an expression that relayed she wasn’t trying to step on toes. “Both of you are massive, you could do damage without proper prep and if it’s that serious we can’t wait on that.”

“I’ll do it!” Peter was quick to step forward. “You all know I’ll the gentlest and she’s already upset—”

“Shut it Spiderboy,” Sam quickly interjected, giving the younger alpha a stern look, “she needs careful handling, not some teenager fumbling with his knot.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore you asshole—!”

“Carol’s cock is the smallest,” Tony stated nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes in the closet that faced the den, “no offense babe, just logistics.”  

“None taken,” the blonde snorted slightly in amusement before turning her attention to the two primes, “I can get her started, at least get her hormones on the right track.”

“Let go of me you psycho!” The omega howled, voice constricted by her collar. “Get away from me, let me go!”

A low, bone-deep rumble suddenly washed over everyone in the attic, the growl emanating from both Steve and Thor. A keening moan escaped the omega, her breath hitching and eyes rolling as viscous slick gushed from her pussy. The scent of it made waves through the rest of the pack, a cacophony of moans and growls echoing off the high ceiling as the responding scent of hot and bothered emanated through the den.

“Thor?” Steve questioned the other prime imploringly, knowing that they needed an immediate answer and follow through.

The taller man grit his teeth, nose flaring for several moments before he let out another low growl that made their omega cry with arousal. “You first—leave my shirt on her, please.”

“Oh God, oh God,” the whimpering omega shifted in Carol’s arms, likely about to try to make a break for it when Steve swept her up into his arms. “Please, wait—!”

“Your pussy is dripping for your primes, isn’t it precious?” The alpha male hummed quietly as he swiftly lowered them both to the bed, hands grasping the backs of her thighs and pressing her knees towards her shoulders. “So much slick for such a little thing.”

The whine that came from Peter sounded wrecked, only minutely more embarrassing than the groans and panting coming from the rest of the pack as they watched. The omega looked to be approaching frantic and Carol sighed, shifting farther away from the prime on the bed—there was no reason to test Steve’s incredible patience. Well, that had been Carol’s opinion anyway.

Evidently Loki believed otherwise, but then again the delta was habitually prone to testing Steve’s last goddamn nerve. The brunet had appeared with a shimmering green light, lying on the bed so close to the omega that the scent from his ridiculously expensive Fendi sweater was transferring to her arm and shoulder. The prime had barely flinched, certainly hadn’t reacted in a manner more noticeable than a slight dilation in his pupil. Thor made a reprimanding noise but didn’t move forward to remove the delta, much to Bucky and Tony’s immediate disdain.

“Why the fuck does he get to—!”

“You better rethink that, Ice Man!”

The combined snarls from both primes quickly brought all three deltas to heel and while Loki didn’t retreat, he did keep his hands to himself. One hand propped up his head, the other tightly fisted and rested on the bed between himself and the omega’s borrowed shirt while eyes burned into him from all sides. The omega’s wide eyes were locked on the man, some flicker of recognition fleetingly passing over her face. Loki was good at surprise entrances and even better at taking advantage of his brother’s status in the pack—not that he necessarily got away with things the others wouldn’t, but none of the others particularly wanted to find out what the prime’s breaking point was either.

“I just want to keep her calm, is that so horrible?” The tone the God used was smooth and Carol remembered the talking stick analogy again. “You can smell the poor thing’s terror, is it really necessary?”

Steve looked conflicted for maybe two seconds when a light went off behind his eyes. “Keep her calm so I don’t have to purr and you can stay.”

The delta’s hand immediately slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping the curve of her rib cage just under her breast. His nose pressed into her neck in the following moments, a small golden glow flowing over the little omega’s skin where he touched her. The odor of fear was quick to recede once the windows were open, replaced with the tangy-sweet scent of her pussy. Carol inhaled sharply and whined, drawing Steve’s attention to her wide, sad eyes.

The prime huffed, running one big hand through his hair while Loki held the omega’s thigh in place. “Hands to yourself, Carol.”

The blonde immediately tucked her nose into the other side of the omega’s neck, hands clenched into fists and tucked tightly against her stomach. She could hear the rest of the pack shuffling around, vying for space and views on the bed. Steve seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze once again locked on the pretty omega’s.

“Is your cunt working your slick hard enough precious?” He murmured directly into her ear, lips brushing the skin gently. “If those muscles aren’t strong enough we might have to put in a bit more effort to stretch you out. Squeeze around my fingers baby.”

Carol’s eyes rolled back when a breathy whine escaped the omega, the only perceivable reaction that might’ve betrayed her fear—otherwise, whatever magic Loki had used made her eyes shine with bliss. Steve had two fingers knuckle deep in her cunt, still pressing forward while his slick coated thumb swept up through her folds to pass over her clit. She shook under the grasp of his packmates, hips shifting without her consent to follow the movement of his hand.

“Come on sweetheart, please?” Steve implored quietly, looking at the loosely pinned omega with soft eyes. “Clench your pussy for me, let me take care of you. Please, I—oh, there you go, that’s a good girl.”

He hummed, working his fingers deeper into her cunt and scissoring them carefully. A smile lit the prime’s face when the cutest hiccupping moan escaped the omega, her legs pressing futilely against his hold. Muscle memory tried to guide her legs closed but Carol easily slipped a hand around her knee, keeping her spread wide while Steve continued to stretch her pussy. Another bass toned growl from Thor reverberated off the walls and she wailed, slick dripping over Steve’s fingers while her pussy contracted in waves as commanded by the prime’s guttural growl.

“I’m gonna take care of you precious,” her low whine prompted a moan from Steve as he added a third finger, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers up against her g-spot. “You’ll feel so much better once we fuck you, I promise.”

Carol watched with heavily lidded eyes as the omega’s attention was sparked by Steve’s use of the collective we. Likely it was only Loki’s magic that kept her from lashing out as viciously as they knew she was capable of. In spite of it, her little teeth showed, sharp incisors flashing in a botched hiss. The prime poised himself over her carefully with a small grin, fingers still fucking into her with vigor while he rested his weight on his elbow next to her head.

“It’s gonna be okay omega, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed quietly against her ear, removing his hand only to pull his cock from his pants. “Take deep breaths, baby.”

“Don’t—” She didn’t sound distressed, the omega sounded aroused and desperate, “I—”

“Shhhh,” the prime’s lips skimmed over her cheeks, down her nose while his hand guided his dick up and down her slick folds until he was dripping with her arousal. “I’m gonna take care of you, precious. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The sound that escaped the omega’s lips as he slipped into her was goosebump inducing in the best way. She whined as the head popped in, breath hitching with every millimetre that came thereafter—and there were a lot of them. The omega was squirming, her heels scrambling against the blankets and both Loki and Carol found themselves having to focus much harder than expected on keeping her still while Steve bottomed out.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Loki cooed, his nose brushing the line of her jaw. “I know it’s a lot but you’re taking it beautifully. Stay still love, just relax we’ll hold you.”

“That’s right ‘mega,” Steve groaned as he withdrew, the squelch of her cunt making his teeth clench. “We’ll do all the work precious, you just have to be a good girl and take my cock.”

It was easier said than done and everyone in the room save Thor was fully aware of that. The omega’s sweet little whines and cries were causing a massive feedback loop of arousal in the pack’s consciousness and Carol was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of several people going at it but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from where Steve’s cock was drilling into that pretty cunt. Evidently said feedback loop was also affecting Steve, who very suddenly growled possessively.

“Carol, Loki, off,” The prime snapped barely hesitating before dropping his elbows into the pillows on either side of the omega’s head, narrowly avoiding giving his pack mates concussions. “Now.”

Both the alpha and the delta were yanked off the bed by their ankles—well, Carol was yanked off the bed. Loki was yanked off the bed and then promptly thrown into the wall by said ankles. The reinforced exterior wall meant there was only a small dent where the god had landed, but the ensuing ruckus had a strong potential of causing even more damage. Thor immediately turned to deal with the problem, along with several other packmates.

Several things occurred in the next few seconds and the pack would probably fight about what really happened for the next twenty years, but somehow Bucky was thrown through the window and Tony’s right ring finger was broken.

And Wanda—poor Wanda, Thor pushed her out of the way before Bucky could accidentally take her through the window with him. The beta was sent flying, sailing across the bed until she hit the unyielding form of Steve. He startled in shock, immediately drawing back to assess her condition—only for a heel to slam directly into his nose. The prime’s head snapped back from the force, big body falling backwards while his hands scrambled for purchase on his face.

The omega probably would’ve even gotten down the stairs if Natasha hadn’t been ascending the stairs at that moment, having heard the commotion from where she and Clint had been putting away groceries. The redhead smelled her before seeing her, a somewhat sinister grin pulling Nat’s lips when the omega ran directly into her while attempting escape #2.

“Now where are you going, kitten? With that mess dripping down your thighs,” the beta cooed, head tilting as she scented the air. “Why can I smell Steve on you, but not his cum?”

There was a horrible, long pause while the omega seemed to consider her options before landing on Go For Broke. She attempted to dodge past Natasha but the beta’s strong arm immediately lashed around her waist, her superior strength making it easy to force her up the stairs even as she refused to hold her own weight.

Steve met them just two steps from the top, dick out and covered in blood. The prime’s expression wasn’t so much angry as it was disappointed and Natasha hummed in false sympathy.

“Someone’s been naughty, huh kitten?”

content warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism 

[addictedtostorytelling]

What do you think about the dynamic between Grissom and Sara in the new sneak peak (the one with the gloves)? Do you think it shows their growth as individual characters but also as a couple?

hi, anon!

i don't know that i think it shows growth, per se, as a) they both act exactly as one would expect them to in this situation, and, b) we've seen very similar "mild conflict" behavior from them before at times when they've been together in the past.

however, i do think that the scene contains a lot of love and that it, once again, demonstrates how very "worn-in" they are with each other, which is exactly how they should be at this point in their relationship.

more discussion after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

__

so to me, the behavior grissom and sara demonstrate in this scene isn't necessarily remarkable because it's new so much as it is remarkable because it's practiced—i.e., because it's clear that these two people love each other and have been together for a long time.

that sara, who has always been ruled by her heart and who is so incredibly loyal to anyone who's "her people," would be absolutely convinced of hodges's innocence and find it impossible to even entertain the notion that he might potentially be guilty 100% tracks. that she would be appalled at grissom for not throwing his full support behind hodges, whom she considers part of their family, also tracks. however, that she wouldn't actually be mad at grissom (even though she claimed to be) but more just frustrated with the situation and scared for hodges and in need of reassurance from grissom that everything would turn out okay also very much tracks.

that's all in keeping with characterization we've seen for sara throughout her entire time on the show.

likewise, that grissom, o he of "i never think [i know somebody]," "i tend not to believe people. people lie. the evidence doesn't lie" fame, would consider that, with one exception (i.e., his wife), no one is above suspicion, even if he'd like to believe otherwise, tracks. that he would understand that for the sake of the investigation, he has to both be and be perceived as being objective also tracks. that he would perhaps be less willing to go to bat for hodges (whom, even at the acme of their relationship, he was never personally very close to) both than sara is* and also than he would be for certain other former team members he might actually consider "family" also tracks.

* remember: he worked with hodges for six years; sara worked with hodges, on and off, for closer to twelve. moreover, she worked with hodges a lot more recently than did he. also, hero-worship notwithstanding, hodges ultimately ends up being closer with sara than with him in the end.

so, again, that's all in line with grissom's previous characterization; he behaves exactly as one would expect him to here.

grissom and sara also operate in a very familiar way in terms of how they approach their (mild) conflict on a couple level.

even before they got together, their style of conflict was never to yell in each other's faces but rather more to be kind of snarky and passive-aggressive with each other (see, for example, episodes 03x03 "let the seller beware" and 04x22 "no more bets").

in particular, sara was never shy about letting grissom know when she was pissed with him or even about communicating why she was pissed (see episode 02x15 "burden of proof").

once they did get together and were generally in a good place in their relationship, the conflict snark stayed but became more lighthearted in nature as long as the conflict itself was mild* (see episode 07x10 "loco motives"); however, the snark was also joined by some genuine communication and also was occasionally replaced by softness at times when a gentler touch was warranted (see, for example, in episode 07x06 "burn out," where sara admonishes grissom for being too hard on greg but does so in a very tender way that makes clear what behavior she'd like him to change and why).

* at times when there were actually hurt feelings, like in episode 07x23 "the good, the bad, and the dominatrix," it was a bit more biting.

of course, even on occasions when the conflict was more serious in nature, they always treated each other respectfully.

so, all of the above said, what we see from their mild conflict here fits well into these established patterns.

sara feels like hodges is part of her and grissom's team family and therefore is deserving of their immediate and wholehearted support; however, grissom is reserving judgment, at least allowing that it's possible that hodges could potentially be guilty of the crimes of which he stands accused. he's not as prepared as sara is to say that hodges absolutely couldn't be behind the fabrication—and especially not before they've had a chance to review all of the evidence.

consequently, their two views of hodges and where their obligations lie in this case are at odds, with sara believing that their main responsibility is to establish hodges's innocence and grissom that it is to discover the truth (even if that truth is that hodges is at fault).

sara is upset with grissom because she feels as if he's being disloyal to someone who is entitled to their trust.

she's also (on a more subconscious level) probably feeling a bit on edge because this whole situation smacks of many an old disagreement she and grissom had back in the day, when he, as her supervisor, used to always get on her for letting her emotions cloud her judgment (see, for example, episodes 01x10 "sex, lies, & larvae" and 01x16 "too tough to die").

of course, for as annoyed as sara is that grissom would even consider that hodges—their hodges!—could possibly be a criminal mastermind and for as much as it bothers her that grissom is (at least possibly) second-guessing her judgment, deep down, she also does realize that a) grissom has good reason to be behaving in the way that he is, and, b) that he's just being himself, which is something she really can't fault him for.

he's right that they need to look at all the evidence. he's right that they can't get ahead of themselves.

people are going to be scrutinizing their work, so they need to check all of the boxes, you know?

honestly, if hodges is innocent, then that's the best thing they can do to help him.

they need to be thorough.

—and, frankly, grissom wouldn't be grissom if that weren't the approach he were taking here.

for as much as sara wants him to validate her, she knows him well enough to recognize that he was always going to be more willing to entertain the unsavory possibilities in this case than was she.

he is a skeptic by nature, predisposed to doubt the human element.

there's only one person who has carte blanche on his trust, and that's her; everyone else, he will at least allow could potentially be guilty.

he's also not necessarily "against hodges" (even though that's what sara first accuses him of being) but rather just "for the truth" (regardless of if hodges is guilty or innocent).

that's part of his strong sense of justice—and, honestly, a trait sara loves in him, even if she's annoyed by how that trait is manifesting at the moment.

she is, after all, the same person who once told her own best friend that if he'd been suspected of killing a suspect in cold blood, she'd not hesitate to investigate the hell out of him, so, ultimately, she does understand grissom's m.o. here—she gets that their obligation is to the truth, more so than to any one person; she's aware that they have to explore every avenue.

it's just a hard thing to hear, is all.

and especially because, in this case, proving the truth is going to be exceptionally difficult—which means that even if hodges is innocent, they still might not be able to help him.

ultimately, she's frustrated with the situation more so than with grissom himself, and she recognizes as much.

—hence why she puts the gloves back.

so.

all of this discussion is to say that not only do grissom and sara behave as we'd expect them to on an individual level in this scene but their conflict also plays out as we'd expect, as well.

this ground isn't really new for them.

but that's not to suggest that this scene isn't remarkable for other reasons.

as stated above, while it's not necessarily a scene that showcases a lot of "growth," at least in the sense that their behavior here isn't markedly different than behavior we've seen from them in the past, it is one that showcases a lot of love—love which manifests in the form of knowing.

grissom knows sara well enough to understand right away what she's upset about (and even to know that, deep down, she's not actually upset with him but rather with the injustice of the whole situation).

he's not at all surprised that she would be so adamant in her defense of hodges, and he's also not at all disappointed; part of what he loves about her is how passionate she is and how deeply she invests in "her people." he knew from the get-go that she was going to be "team hodges" all the way. he would not have expected anything less.

sara also, as discussed above, knows grissom. she gets why he's so insistent on remaining objective, and beyond her kneejerk "how could you not immediately back hodges on this?" reaction, she even (secretly) appreciates that he is so measured.

it's something she can count on even when everything else is out-of-control.

ultimately, she knows that he'd be just as happy as she would be if the evidence bore out that hodges were innocent. she also knows (and deeply appreciates) that he will stop at nothing until he gets to the truth.

she has always loved how just he is, and, for all her complaints, she wouldn't actually want him to be any other way, even now.

so there's love in all of that understanding.

and there's also love in her moving the gloves back.

and there's love in him knowing why she moved the gloves back.

and there's love in the fact that even though tensions are high, they're talking through everything.

and there's love in them working together to get the truth.

they really are, as grissom says, a team.

and that's so evident in this scene.

this is what a healthy, long-term relationship looks like in action, folks. they don't have to agree about everything; they just have to respect and love each other, even in disagreement, and continue to work together, regardless.

you can really tell that they've been married for years—that they know each other and how to work together, through any kind of adversity.

it's a simple superficial thing, but i'm struck by how, throughout this whole conversation, they never stop stocking the kit, seamlessly handing items off to each other, grissom checking that they work, and sara fitting them into place. though they're having a (mild) argument, their actions speak much louder than their words—as has always been the case with gsr—and show that though outwardly they're in disagreement with each other, inwardly they're still very much in sync.

there's still that connection between them, as always.

anyway, that's my take.

ymmv.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.