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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years ago

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Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 13

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Violence. Reader stabs herself. Murder.

Author’s Note: They’re gonna be happy. I swear. Just. Just be patient. Inspo for her gown! Might I recommend listening to Dress by Taylor Swift when she reveals her gown? Gif from @fictional-thoughts

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Engagement

Something about arriving in Senex, then leaving, then arriving again without issue gave Din an overwhelming feeling of paranoia. It shouldn’t have been so easy –the Crest was able to go undetected just fine, but there was no way that Calisto and her men weren’t keeping an eye on the skies. More importantly, he shouldn’t have been able to sneak back into her bedroom just as easily as he had before either, but there he was, setting Grogu up on her bed.

There was commotion downstairs –music, voices echoing through the empty halls and vents. He must have gotten there just in time for the party to have started. Which meant he didn’t have much time to get her and get her out of there. Din hoped that she had gotten the tracker out, but the thought of her cutting it out of herself brought on an anger that he needed to control if this was going to work.

Grogu babbled, reaching up to him as Din checked over his armor.

“It’s going to be okay, kid,” he promised, resting a hand on the child’s head gently. “Isowen will be here to keep you safe, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

Din and Grogu exchanged looks as the bedroom door creaked open. Drawing his blaster, Din pointed it at the intruder, only for Isowen to stop in her tracks with her hands in the air. Her eyes were wide, but Din lowered his weapon and she shut the door with her foot.

“The princess is downstairs with her mother,” Isowen explained, walking into the bedroom entirely, though she stopped at the end of the bed. Grogu stared up at her with wide eyes. “This must be the little one she’s spoken of.”

Din nodded, holstering his gun. “He’ll be safe with you, then?”

“I will protect him with my life,” Isowen promised, lifting Grogu into her arms. “Just as I have protected his mother.” The two exchanged looks, with Isowen meeting Din’s gaze carefully. “Treat her well, Mandalorian. Or I will be who you answer to.”

Din wanted to counter her threat and ask where she was when Calisto was pawning her child off –but he decided against it. There was only so much Isowen could have done for her, and he wasn’t going to insult the one person that his princess seemed to have left in the home that cared about her.

She had him now too.

“The party has begun,” Isowen explained, resting Grogu on her hip. “The announcement of the engagement will not be until the end.”

“Did she get the tracker out?”

The lady in waiting shook her head, looking away for a moment. “She asked me –I couldn’t bring myself to cut her open like that again, though. I am sorry, Mandalorian.”

He huffed through his modulator, but didn’t comment. Instead, he simply nodded and exited the room. A kink in the plan but nothing he couldn’t figure out in the moment.

*****

Downstairs, at the party, she was standing alone in the back. The hall was set up in a way that obscured her from view, but allowed for an excellent vantage point to scan the room. Usually, she and her father sat there to people watch. Now, it worked well for surveillance.

Her armor was obscured enough by the gossamer of her cape. Besides, her mother didn’t even bother to ask her about the addition. Just as Isowen promised, the sleeves of her dress were removed and allowed for a full view of the scar that took up most of her arm now. She would let the whole galaxy know what her mother did if given the chance. The Senate should know who was taking her father’s place.

“If I didn’t know any better,” a soft voice teased. From around the corner came Leia Organa with a glass in her hand. Leia gave her a small, playful smile. “I’d think you weren’t the purpose of the party.”

“What gave it away?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back now.

“Honestly, the entire thing,” Leia admitted, looking out over the party now. “Though, Credence and your mother being the actual center of attention really confirms it.”

She nodded once, scanning over the party. Her eyes caught a crack in the servant’s doorway, and a quick flash of light caught silver. A smile spread over her lips, knowing well what that meant.

Who that meant.

“Leia, I need your help,” she finally concluded, looking to the other princess at her side.

“Does it involve getting you out of this marriage? Because if it does, absolutely.”

She looked a bit surprised, unsure if Leia was being serious. But then she nodded once. “It does. But it also involves saving my…a child from Moff Gideon.”

Leia’s brow furrowed, though she kept her eyes on the party. She was certain the other princess caught her slip up, but if she did, Leia said nothing. “Gideon died, I thought?”

“Apparently not.”

“Why is he interested in a child?”

She opened her mouth to explain then stopped, realizing she wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. Din never really explained why Gideon was so interested in Grogu; just that he had been chasing after them for years now. It didn’t really matter, if she was honest with herself. Whatever Grogu had that Gideon wanted –she wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her child.

“I…don’t know, truthfully,” she finally admitted, looking away from the crack in the door and to Leia. “I just know that I have to protect him.”

Leia glanced over at her then nodded once. “You have an escape plan?”

“I have a Mandalorian and a ship.”

“I’m sorry, you what?”

The two finally looked at each other properly, as Leia’s husband joined them. Han Solo held a glass in his hand, looking annoyed by the entire ordeal.

“When can we leave?” He asked, finishing off his drink. “This entire thing is a joke.”

“Han,” Leia warned, looking up at him. “This is the Princess of Senex.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.”

She waved him off, shaking her head. “It is a joke, you’re right.”

“And we’re going to help get her out of here,” Leia explained, taking his arm. “With the help of a Mandalorian, apparently.”

“Weren’t you taken by a Mandalorian?” Han asked, looking down at her with a frown.

She shook her head, looking back out as a new stormtrooper suddenly joined the party as a guard. He nodded at her and she smiled knowingly.

“No, I wasn’t.”

*****

Din slipped into the party with ease, having gotten rid of another trooper and taken their armor. While he wasn’t entirely sure where in the hall she would be, he would find her. He surveyed the room, searching for any sign of her presence. He could feel the weight of his mission pressing down on him, but he tried to push it aside and focus on the task at hand.

As he weaved his way through the crowd, he kept his eyes and ears open, listening for anything that might lead him to her. Finally, he caught an offset of the room –a corner that was sheltered away. If she wasn’t in the main room, that’s exactly where she’d be. He quickened his pace and disappeared into the throngs of partygoers, slipping around the corner without a word.

A young woman stood next to his princess, whispering to her. She glanced at him, frowning deeply. “I think we should take this elsewhere.”

“It’s fine,” she promised, nodding to Din behind the enemy mask. One of his hands found the small of her back without hesitation. “He’s mine.”

The man beside the other woman gave her a wary look before he realized what she meant, then he turned to Din. “I thought Mandos couldn’t take off their helmets?”

“Doesn’t matter,” was all he said.

He put his hands up in defense, giving a feigned look of offense. “Why do I feel like this is gonna break into a firefight?”

“Because it will,” Din offered as an explanation, and he gripped his blaster tight in his hands. “Who are these people?”

“Leia,” the woman offered, motioning to the man beside her. “This is Han.”

“And no, it won’t,” she countered, giving him a wary look. “Not if I can get this tracker out of my arm –,”

“The what out of where?” Leia demanded, grabbing her hand to pull her arm from beneath her cape. Disgust painted the older princess’s features as she examined her arm. “Stars above, this is –,”

“How are you gonna get it out?” The other man interrupted, looking over the healed scar. “Without, y’know, cutting it back out?”

“That was the plan,” she admitted, reaching for the dagger beneath her skirts. She turned to Din, looking up at him now. “I need you to do it.”

Din stared at the dagger, the feeling of anxiety overwhelming him. It wouldn’t be his first time cutting something out of someone, but something about doing it to her created a rock in his stomach.

“I…I don’t think I can,” he admitted, voice quiet behind the trooper’s mask.

Her brows knitted together, looking up at him with a small frown. She glanced at the other two, then pulled him to the side. “Din, I…you have to do it. I can’t; you’re the only person I trust to do it –,”

“I can’t, cyare,” he whispered back, shaking his head. “I can’t hurt you like that. I…I don’t think I can.”

“Din, if I do it, then there’s a higher chance I cut something fatal.”

“No, you won’t —,”

“Din —,”

“If you two are done,” Leia interrupted, looking between the two now. She plucked the dagger from her hands, glancing at the signet engraved on it, then back at his princess. “I’ll do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Din snapped, taking the weapon from her. Between a stranger offering to slice open his wife and that same stranger taking her weapon, Din was not having it.

“Hey, we have trouble,” Han announced, peering around the corner. “If we’re gonna make our getaway, now is the time.”

Din pushed him out of the way, taking a breath as Calisto and Credence moved to the center of the party. Gideon was standing to the side, scanning the room for any sign of trouble. Din was about to give him trouble, but she grabbed his arm.

“Leia and Han are going to join the party,” she explained, looking at them as they nodded and made their exit. She gripped his arm hard over the armor. “It’s going to be okay, Din. Get your armor –you’re going to need it.”

He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. There was a sudden increase of guards in the room, and Din knew well it meant Calisto was starting to catch on that she was missing from the party. Turning back to her, he scanned her features for any hesitation –any fear. But she stood tall before him.

“Do not make a single move without me in this room,” he warned, pointing at her with warning. He knew she would try to fight this on her own; he couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t have that. “We fight this together, do you understand me?”

She nodded once. “I do.”

*****

Once Din had disappeared into the shadows of her home, she made her way back into the fray of party goers. Most didn’t even notice she had disappeared from the ordeal; some asked her questions but she ignored them as she pushed her way to the front.

On the side stood Leia and Han, who were watching Moff Gideon with careful expressions. She nodded once to them as she stood at the edge of the crowd. Her mother raised a brow at her, as if suddenly realizing her daughter was even present, then motioned her forward to join them. That same forced smile spread over Calisto’s face, pretending that she was happy to see her daughter, as she stood beside her mother.

“Thank you all for coming,” Calisto announced, motioning to the crowd. “It is truly a marvelous day to be together in this room.”

The crow clapped, cheering brightly as if they had any idea what was happening. She wanted to roll her eyes; scold them for the part they were playing in such a farce. But she played her part, standing there silently as she scanned the crowd once more.

“Today, our family becomes one with the Credence’s,” Calisto continued, motioning to Silas who stepped forward next to her. “As he has asked for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

As if the crowd was excited to hear that their young princess was suddenly engaged to an old man, they broke out in cheers and congratulations again. From her place in the room, she could see everything. The cheering crowds, the questioning faces. Not everyone was excited; some of them saw through it all. Those were the faces she counted; the ones that she knew would be her saviors if the plan went south.

“Silas, if you would present the ring,” Calisto commanded, voice laced in an insincere sweetness that made her want to choke.

Silas stepped towards her, holding out a rather simple ring; one that had no thought put into it. Why would he need to? She had to say yes; it didn’t matter if she liked him or the ring or anything about it. It was when he reached for her hand, though, that she glanced around the room once last time. The crowd was split; some were too drunk to realize how ridiculous this was. Some were realizing that something was wrong.

And when Silas took her hand roughly, she wanted to yank it back. His hands were cold, as if he had been dead for years already. They weren’t welcoming, they weren’t caring. They were boney and calloused and felt like they weren’t even real.

As he moved to slip the ring onto her finger, though, she realized that she couldn’t do this. Even if it was all a facade, she couldn’t let this awful man put a ring on her finger and claim her as his. Not when she held the dagger against her skin. Her mind, briefly, thought back to the night she shared with Din when he asked her to marry him. If Credence so much as brushes against you, I want you to put this dagger into his jugular, Din had said. In the moment, it had been alarming to consider –but now, with her hand in the grasp of Silas Credence –

Her dagger found its place in the old man’s throat.

She hadn’t even realized she had pulled it out; there was no weight shift in her hand. No thought outside of not letting the bastard put a ring on her finger, allowing him to claim what was only Din’s –the only thought she had was not to let them win.

And so she stabbed him, and every sound came back to the room as members of the crowd started to scream. Calisto was next, shouting at her to stop. Silas had fallen to the floor, clutching his throat where the blood seemingly would not stop pouring out. And there she stood, bloody dagger in hand, staring down at the body as if she hadn’t just killed a man.

Then, she slowly turned to her mother, who was now pointing a blaster at her head. Leia and Han pointed their own at Calisto as Din parted the crowds with their child in tow. Every stormtrooper in the room held their weapons at the attack, pointing at her specifically but she did not think anything of it. With her eyes trained on Calisto, she reached up, unpinning the cape and allowing it to drop to the floor. Her gown, while regal and formal still, was overlaid in an armor piece that covered her bodice to her throat and shoulders. Chainmail chased itself from the top of her chest piece to her throat and across her arms. But her arms were exposed, sheer fabric no more.

Her hands raised in the air as she turned to the crowd in front of her. Credence’s blood covered her hands, but her scar –with the tracking beckon still dully blinking through her skin –was exposed to the room. “This is what your queen has done to your princess,” she announced. Her voice shook, but she stood tall. “She has made me a prisoner in my own home. She killed your Senator for her own gain, and promised me off to someone to maintain that power.”

Gasps and cries echoed through the room as she pointed the dagger at her mother now. Calisto stepped to the side but she followed the movement, eyes narrowed. Din stepped forward next, with Han and Leia close on his heels.

“I was not taken,” she continued, though her eyes never left Calisto’s movements. “I ran from the life my mother is trying to force me to have. And I will continue to run if that is what it takes.”

“There is nowhere in this galaxy you can go that I won’t find you,” Calisto sneered, motioning to the tracking device on her wrist, poised now to electrocute her. “I know all, child. I always have.”

She glanced at her arm, waiting for the shock but it never came. “You’re right, mother. You can find me, can’t you?” For a moment, she hesitated, then she turned the dagger on herself –prying the device out of her arm. The pain was like nothing she had experienced before; even when having it placed, it did not hurt as bad as her digging the blade of her knife into her arm and using it to force the chip onto the floor.

Blood dripped from her fingertips as she stepped on the device, destroying it with the heel of her shoe. Calisto was left standing speechless, shocked that her daughter actually ripped herself open. There were many things that Calisto of Senex did not know about her child –things that even she did not know until recently.

“I am the princess of Senex,” she announced, pointing the dagger at her mother once more. “And I will not be held prisoner by you any longer.”

“Then you will be held as mine,” Gideon announced suddenly, aiming his blaster at her. Blaster fire overwhelmed the room, and suddenly she was on the floor, shielded by beskar and strong arms.

Din was right about the firefight after all.

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @lovelessprick @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dilf-din @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando x reader

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silkendandelion · 2 months ago

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Million Dollar Baby (completed), A One Piece fanfiction

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 40.8k Genre: Comedy, drama, smut, fluff

Summary: For the first time, River makes a decision for himself, and Crocodiles make one for someone else.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for mature themes. Rating changes published per chapter.

Chapter 13

“Are you almost done packing?” Crocodile called as he appeared from the other room, ready except for the tie hanging over his shoulders. “The driver will be here as soon as the car is ready.”

“Just about. Are we taking the same car?” River tilted his head in question, reaching without permission to make a Windsor knot and tuck it against the hollow of his throat. The brush of Crocodile’s thumb against his cheek was a sweet thank you, though he would have preferred a kiss.

“They will drop you off first at your apartment, and then I’ll head to the office. Our flight leaves promptly, so I trust you to be punctual when the car returns for you in the evening.”

Excuse me?

Crocodile set his cigar in the ash tray, and handed over a thick stack of papers. River’s heart pounded, hope swelling inside him as printed ink informed him: “This is a temporary proposal, of which the attached contract is under review.”.

“What is this?” He spoke almost too quietly to be heard, but that didn’t dissuade Crocodile’s smug smile, or the puff of his chest.

“A job offer, Mr. Faustina.”

“A—what? Why? How?” The hope returned, stronger, and fluttering behind his ribs.

“One of my associates has recently acquired an import/export business that trades within the Caribbean. He actually owes me more than what your contract is worth, but I’ve cashed this opportunity for you, River.”

With a glance back to the papers, an embarrassed red rushed to his face at the typed figure halfway down the page. “You’re serious.”

The deep breath Crocodile took surprised him, how it stuttered around what appeared suspiciously close to nervousness. “I am. You can stay in my apartment until you get your own place, or if that makes you uncomfortable, I can arrange something else.”

When he received no answer but silence, he brushed the side of his finger down River’s cooling cheek. “If you’re too stunned to speak, you can just nod.”

“I—,” he breathed deeply, blinking back the prickle behind his eyes. “Of course I’m shocked. It’s all very sudden… I suppose everything can be finalized once we’re in New York. I’ll pick out a new school, I’m just worried the courses I’ve already taken won’t transfer over so easily. Then again, I suppose with a salary like this, paying to retake them won’t be a problem.”

“River,” said Crocodile, softly like he loved him, firmly enough to know he thought him a fool.

“You won’t have time for school with a position like this. Deadlines, meetings, keeping the schedule of investors overseas. And you don’t need it anymore, you’ll learn more by getting your feet wet than all the books I ever read during my time at university, books written by men who were long dead by the time I got there.”

“But—,” the words stalled on his tongue when Crocodile ignored him, going to fetch his suitcase and place it beside the door. He had made River an offer no one else would, and that was the end. The cost-benefit analysis of the situation dictated he would not refuse.

“It must be overwhelming right now, but I promise you’ll feel better once we’re home and you’ve gotten settled.”

His math was wrong.

“I can’t accept this.”

The frown that struck his face spoke more to surprise than anger, though to River it still burned of shame as he raised his head to meet Crocodile’s furrowed brow and… disappointed eyes, desperate to reel his emotions in with a series of quick, short blinks. “What does that mean?”

“I can’t go, Crocodile. Not if I can’t finish school. It’s not something I’m willing to negotiate.”

Crocodile’s face abandoned his melancholy, affronted at River’s stubborn tone, too close to spoiled, and what was once vulnerable bordered suddenly on defensive. “This is an expiring offer, River. It won’t wait for you to graduate, and it’s above market value for your qualifications. Don’t you want to move forward? Faster, easier than what you’re doing now?”

“With me” went unsaid at the end of his sentence, stuck to the back of his throat.

“Even you have to recognize it’s value.”

Even me.

The clench of River’s jaw silenced him but the words slipped through Crocodile’s hands, unable to be unsaid once they clouded the air between them. River packed faster, stacking the already folded shirts into the bags and shoving the rest of the clothes inside in crumpled handfuls.

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” River snapped, his mouth open to retort before he settled on grabbing more bags. “Listen to me.”

Crocodile waited patiently the long moments River’s thoughts played across his face, back and forth until he settled on what would sting less than the spirit of Claudia inside him that wanted to shout exactly what he thought in several languages.

“I know that I’m difficult. I’m, I laugh too loudly, I’m proud—am a bit foolish—but I’m not stupid. You’ve made me an incredible offer. One I don’t think I could ever accept as I am now.”

He nodded contentment with his own words, finding the courage to continue when Crocodile did not interrupt him. “I’m under more pressure than ever to move Claudia, and selling sex is the best money I’ve made so far. I won’t risk—!”

His breath stuttered, severed on a grounding sigh. “What if this job doesn’t work out? The company folds, they take a bad deal or get dissolved by people like you? I’ll be without work in a strange place with no school. What, am I meant to ask you to make another miracle? I can’t start over from nothing again, further from Claudia than I have ever been.”

“I would never let you fall back to the bottom.” In the quiet of the suite, his promise should have been a blanket of comfort, if River were more naive, if Crocodile was better at finding the words for what his heart screamed.

“I’m not at the bottom, Crocodile. Our worlds are just very different. I would be able to accept your offer, your promise, if you loved me, if we were a team but you don’t. And we’re not. You are my client, and I can’t bet the future of my family on a man I met 6 days ago. No matter how—”

Crocodile raised his head to meet his eyes, but the glimmer of aching adoration there couldn’t speak the words aloud, swallowed down with a sheen in his violet gaze. “No matter what.”

Neither of them spoke again until the bellhop came for their bags.

“Ready, sirs?”

“Just me,” Crocodile said.

From his spot on the couch, River did not move, and Crocodile scooped up his briefcase to follow the bellhop out without another word.

~*~

Crocodile had always been a shark. Efficient, deadly, charming enough, and alone. But for the past six days, the solitary hunter found himself in pleasant company, of which he couldn’t remember the last time he ever enjoyed anyone more than a passing dalliance or stress relief.

But as the elevator climbed to his office, there was no chatty beauty beside him to offer his particular brand of distraction, leaving Crocodile to wonder how much of this could be called his fault.

It always was, after all. When his father sent him to school, it had been his decision to not pursue business, at least, not any business within the boundaries of the law (of which his schooling made him an expert). When he went to prison, that was his fault too and, upon his release, creating a company that directly countered his father’s idea to invest in people, not statistics—well, he could blame no one else.

Now, he simply pressed the last vestiges of bergamot to his lips with cooling fingertips, a poor salve for his heart that ached along the cracks formed years before they even met. Old wounds opened by his fire, the challenge within River’s naive ideals, an American dream he hadn’t inherited, a kindness that shouldn’t exist in an immigrant who found himself at a disadvantage at every turn for circumstances out of his control… He loved him.

Loved him so much, and yet he sat alone. He did not pursue, why should he? He was, after all, the type of man who only knew how to love by giving and taking because it was the only legacy his father managed to leave behind, for all that he preached.

Hope laid against his ribs, sick and tired, having believed this time would be the exception.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before we get started?”

Crocodile found himself at the conference table, the meeting opened by Doflamingo’s question. Sitting still made his knees ache, and he went to pace by the window.

Cobra followed him with his gaze back and forth across the glass, though he looked more like half a man with bags under his eyes and no Vivi by his side, flanked by a few trusted suits with gilded fountain pens and litigation at the ready. “I want to say that I have no more intention to protest this acquisition. But firstly, we must speak clearly about what will happen to my employees.”

They will survive. If they are strong enough. Just as I did, thought Crocodile.

“If that’s your only grievance, we could have saved you a week of futile struggling,” Doflamingo said as he received a copy of the contract from the suit at his side.

It’s fair.

“I can confidently say there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Isn’t it?

“Let’s go through the contract together, and sign as we go. Gentleman, if I could direct your attention to—”

“Wait a moment.”

Crocodile froze. It hadn’t been his voice that spoke, stealing the words from his lips, but who could possibly—

“Koza?” Cobra gasped, then pushed his chair out to greet him.

“Don’t get up, please.” The young man placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I understand I’m a little late, but let’s not open those contracts just yet.”

“This is a closed meeting, kid, you can’t be here,” said Doflamingo, pointing.

“As majority shareholders, we have the right to speak,” said Vivi from the doorway, arms loaded with folders to be passed around the table.

Doflamingo’s scolding quieted, and his finger drew back into his fist. Between his suddenly chapped lips, the last threads of his patience stitched themselves into a thin, crooked smile. “Quickly then.”

“Inside these folders are letters both from our investors and several of our suppliers. You’ll find signed contract renewals from those who could respond on such short notice, and the rest provided faxed promissory notes, all notarized,” Vivi said.

Cobra scanned the papers in his hand. Beyond their sudden tremor, he knew the prickle behind his eyes must be relief. “Who convinced them? You did this, Koza?”

“I had a little help,” he smirked at Vivi across the table. “She made her fair share of calls, as well our new consultant: Mr. Faustina. You remember him, don’t you?”

The papers in Doflamingo’s fist wrinkled, his eye beginning to twitch behind his sunglasses.

“My father…” Koza began. “Was Cobra’s first employee, when all he had was an idea, and a salary of gratitude. I went to that first factory just one time, as a boy. One of the machines malfunctioned, this worker he—lost his arm. It wasn’t until I was much older I learned my father had asked Cobra to continue to pay him his salary for the rest of life. He said ‘I have wealth so everyone I meet can also prosper’… I’m sorry, Sir Crocodile, but we won’t be signing your contracts today.”

“Is that so?” He said finally, too softly and around a stubborn breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“That’s all very heartwarming, really,” Doflamingo interjected. “But at this point, it’s too late.”

“It’s not, actually,” Crocodile shot back. “Mr. Koza, my company has always pursued our most lucrative interests, and… I have no intention to intercept the figures you’ve presented here.”

“Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.” Koza answered his smirk.

“No, you’re not,” Crocodile smirked back.

Rather than give either of the kids the satisfaction of seeing him so proud, he turned to the window. Pretending to be engrossed in the folder, he ran his thumb over a series of names. A complete list of all the current shareholders, where at the bottom of the first page, between Fairhaven and Favreau, was “Faustina, R. J. – 1 share”.

“Oh. And Sir Crocodile,” said Vivi. “There is one more thing we’d like to discuss with you. Privately, if you’re able.”

Chapter 14

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #x oc #oc fanfiction #mlm fanfic #movie fic #long fic #pretty woman au #ao3 fanfic #silkenspeaks #million dollar baby

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tetsvhoe · 3 years ago

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SOBER THOUGHTS, DRUNK CONFESSIONS

in which they say things they really don’t mean

character/s: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre/s: angst to fluff, no more clickbait for the fluff part

warning/s: drinking obviously, also for future characters in this series if ever

gwen’s notes 🤍: thought about this one night it hurt so good i couldn’t stop thinking about it i may or may not merge my other angst to fluff requests into this series ty ty wrote this shit at 2am i apologize for the mistakes

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

kuroo tetsuro has been drinking considerably a lot more than usual and you think nothing of it even as he pairs it with avoidance. he’s probably overwhelmed with work, you tell yourself. you trust him even as he’s out all night with bokuto and other friends from high school and you trust that he will tell you what’s been bothering him whenever he is ready. you are in for a surprise when he does.

you answer a phonecall from bokuto at an ungodly hour in the night, only to be greeted back with his struggling grunts and grumbles.

“so sorry to call you this late,” he pants. you hear kuroo slurring his words in the background, something about wanting to do more shots. you slip on a pair of fluffy slippers and make your way to the closet to change your clothes as you listen to bokuto’s incident report. “i don’t think i can get kuroo back home safely. do you think you can drive here to come pick him up?” he sounds apologetic and expectant.

you chuckle lightly into the phone as you quickly pull a sweatshirt over your head. “i figured this would happen. i’m on my way, just text me the address.”

bokuto, a whole professional athlete, barely manages to haul your boyfriend out of the bar and into your passenger seat. you each take one of kuroo’s arm over your shoulder and all but drag his long lanky legs across the pavement. you begin to question how you’re supposed to get him out of the car and into your apartment later on, debating on whether or not you should just leave him to sleep in the car if all else fails.

kuroo is slumped against the door, his limbs a tangled mess in the tight space which is usually for you. the drive home is quiet save for his soft snores. as you reach to turn the music volume down, he stirs awake, snuggling his head against the misted window.

“what are you doing here?”

you spare him a momentary glance, an amused smile on your lips. “someone had a little too much to drink and couldn’t get home,” you tease.

“i could have gotten home just fine,” he grumbles.

“i’m sure you would, baby but i feel much better picking you up myself.”

“seriously,” his voice is suddenly cold and stern, making you do a double take while you navigate the road. “i can take care of myself. i don’t need you hovering over me all the damn time.”

your heart unexpectedly lurches to your stomach at his ill fitted sudden outburst, but you steady your breathing and hands on the steering wheel. you wonder what could possibly be plaguing his mind for him to act this way, still giving him the benefit of the doubt. “what has gotten into you, tetsu? you must be tired. we’re almost home‒”

“you know what’s gotten to me,” he slurs, cutting you off. he lifts his head just to quickly shoot you a vindictive glance, something uncalled for and completely throws you off guard. “is the realization that you’re too fucking clingy and i have no idea how much more of this i can take.”

the air in your lungs is knocked out of you, tears leave a trail of warmness down your cheeks before you could even try and stop them from flowing. you grip the steering wheel tightly in your hands, voice breaking as you reply. “you’re just drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” it sounds like a lie when you hear yourself say it, for you more than for him.

he scoffs, eyes fluttering close again. “these thoughts didn’t just occur to me now that i’m drunk. but i am only now drunk enough to finally say them.”

you harshly bite on your lip to contain the sob you felt coming and nod wordlessly. afterall, what more could you say to that?

kuroo didn’t get much sleep in the hot and stuffy car on top of feeling like his head was being hammered in. whether you left him there because you couldn’t get him out or perhaps because of what he said, he knew he deserved it nonetheless. he drags himself inside and is surprised to find you cooking in the kitchen. you can barely look him in the eyes, and he pads awkwardly towards you.

you aren’t sure how to approach the situation or if he still remembers what happened last night so you figured you could gauge the situation yourself. now you know that is so much harder than you made it out to be.

kuroo remembers. he remembers all of it so vividly and a part of himself wishes he just blacked out and forgotten because he still hears your cries and sniffles at the back of his head.

“good morning.” he’s the first to try to initiate a conversation as he casually slips into a chair, and you fake a smile painfully. “sorry you had to pick me up.”

“it’s fine.” that’s the last thing you should be worried about.

“i had one too many drinks.” just keep believing i was drunk out of my mind and didn’t mean anything i said.

you almost topple over the pan when you feel your heart twisting in your chest again, feeling the need to steady yourself by gripping the edges of the counter until your knuckle turns white. kuroo notes that you look like you’re almost about to pass out so he pushes himself off the chair and rushes to hold you against his chest. you recoil at the touch, your eyes suddenly stinging.

“sorry i‒” you breathe, focusing your gaze on the ground. “i can’t‒i don’t want to be with you right now, i need air.”

he tries to run after you out the door but decides against it. he’s left alone with his thoughts in the barren apartment with a half-cooked breakfast you still made for him despite last night and almost loses his mind thinking about how you’re going to come back only to leave him. he was stupid and hypocritical.

you cautiously slide back in after you somewhat gather your thoughts during a long walk, not wanting to confront him yet out of sheer exhaustion, but he bolts to the living room when he hears the door open, halting when your eyes flicked over to him. what now? he thinks to himself.

“you’re back,” he announces but says it more like a question. you give him a small nod. “can we talk?”

“about?”

“last night.”

“oh.” your mouth fall slack and you nod slowly while you kick your shoes off, he knows. “okay.” your voice is quiet and your gaze low, never quite landing on his eyes.

he didn’t know what to expect but the sheer lack of anger and overall reaction from you scares him.

“i remember saying a lot of nasty things to you last night,” he starts off, fiddling with his hands as he watches you take a seat on the couch. you don’t encourage him to continue, nor do you cut him off to reply, you just listen blankly. “i didn’t mean any of it and you were right, i wasn’t really thinking because i was drunk‒”

“you said you didn’t get those thoughts when you were drunk.”

“i know‒”

“how long have you been feeling that way?”

kuroo’s eyebrows furrow and tears brim his eyes when you finally look at him and he can’t discern the emotion behind your eyes. “a little over two weeks.”

“why didn’t you talk to me about it then?”

he finds that he can’t take the weight of your gaze so he looks at the floor instead. “i was afraid that i was feeling that way, i took it out on you last night. i’m sorry.” you hear soft sniffles and though you hate seeing him cry, you didn’t have it in you to console him with your own heart still spasming painfully in your chest. “are you going to leave me?” he stutters between soft sobs, voice small.

you sigh, fighting back your own tears. “well i don’t really know what you want me to do, tetsuro‒”

“please don’t. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, i know i’m being difficult and stupid and rash but i’m going to make it up to you, i promise.” he walks over to you and lays his head on your lap, not minding the warm tears that wet your clothes.

“i think you’re all over the place, one moment you’re pushing me away the next you’re begging me to stay. i’m confused,” you mumble adamantly. “i never want to break up in the first place, you know. but when you go and say that… i don’t know, i think i need time to process my feelings.”

“i’ll give you all the time that you need,” he persuades, looking up at you with teary eyes and trembling lips.

“you have to learn you can’t just say those things and then take them back.” your hands gently comb through his hair absentmindedly.

he tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face onto your lap. “i know, i hurt you so much and i am so sorry. i’ll learn from my mistakes, i won’t ever do that or talk to you like that again,” he pleads like a little kid.

“don’t mess this up,” you sigh. your heart still thumps in your chest. you’re unsure if you can survive something like that again, but he promises you wouldn’t ever have to go through it again.

@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @coco96 @knmsapplepi @strawberryzos @iwasunshine @bidisaster1307 @jesssobs @asaitashi @singularly-gifted-witch @devilsbooksworld

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ramzawrites · 4 years ago

Note

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt.

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

1K notes · View notes

mionemymind · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: The Harsh Treatment

Fake Memories

Series Summary: After Y/n is caught cheating on Wanda with Carol, Y/n would do just about anything to get Wanda back into her life. But was it even Y/n’s fault that she cheated? Or was it the new enemy set on revenge?

Chapter Summary: What will happen to Y/n as the team pushes her past her limits?

A/n: I lied, I decided to be nice and post it now. Honestly, the amount of support that I’m receiving from this fanfic has literally made me smile so much. I really love all of you who read and/or comment. You mean the world to me. Let me know what you think. :) (Not my GIF)

Warnings: Starvation, harmful thoughts, curse words, self-doubt, mentions of blood, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist

Y/n abruptly woke up at the feeling of pressurized gas coursing through her body. She quickly sat up, unable to see anything in the white fog. The cold feeling only lasted a couple seconds before F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Fire has been contained.” Y/n hugged herself for warmth as she waited for the fog to disappear. This was the 13th time this month that she was woken up with pressurized gas. At first, it was foam but someone in maintenance had changed the system after the 5th time she woke up.

Y/n looked at her surroundings and sighed at the damages to her sheets. There were burn marks along with small amounts of frostbite from the gas. “At this rate, I won’t have money for food.” With a grim face, Y/n got up from her bed and proceeded with taking everything off her bed, a routine she unfortunately started to learn.

Y/n didn’t know when things got worse. If she had to guess, maybe it was after the whole fiasco with Wanda. The team had been on edge ever since then. “They probably thought I hurt her,” Y/n thought at the time, but it was far from the truth. She had wanted to explain herself to the team but dismissed those thoughts with, “What’s the point in trying? I’ll always be guilty to them.”

As for Wanda, the still heartbroken girl didn’t dare to speak to the team about that night. Even she didn’t quite know what happened. Since that night, she only lied to herself stating that maybe Y/n had done something. It would probably remove the guilt she had when she thought of the blood running down Y/n’s face. But even the lie couldn’t repress the truth from her thoughts.

After she collected her bedding, she threw it away in the trash can along with the other damaged beddings. Y/n grabbed her wallet off her night stand and opened it. She couldn’t feel it, but her heart dropped at the sight of the lack of money she had. Only a $20 dollar bill as well as a couple ones were left. She closed her eyes and tried her best to keep herself calm, to try and act like the world wasn’t closing in on her. It was a couple minutes later when she opened her eyes and looked at her wallet again. “This was supposed to last me for the rest of the month.” Y/n rubbed her forehead, feeling the overwhelming stress from her lack of funds.

One might ask, “Aren’t you an Avenger? Shouldn’t you make a shit ton of money.” And at one point, Y/n would say yes, she did. But it all came back to that night. A week after, she had overheard a conversation that went…

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to her.” Y/n was about to go around the corner, but decided to wait at the sound of Steve’s voice. “It’s simple Rodgers - unless I have to remind you why we needed to redo the glass in the conference room.” Steve sighed at Tony’s simple minded actions. Y/n could practically feel him crossing his arms in a disapproving manner.

“Well she did work fair and hard for her money Tony - this just feels wrong.” Y/n heard a couple clicks before Tony replied with, “This is for Wanda. Anything to get Y/n out of here by her own means is worth it. If you have a problem with this, you must not care as much for Wanda as I thought.” Steve sighed again seeing as he was morally put in an awkward position. It was either care for Y/n or care for Wanda. “That’s what I thought.” Tony left with a smug look on his face as he clicked more on the screen in front of him.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to see the effects of Tony’s decision. Her pay day was the following day and the overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety rose up within her as she only had $400 to survive until the next pay day, which was a month later. Since then, her food portions have been small to say the least. Y/n learned that she only had enough money for the month to eat at least once a day and even that was cutting it. The dramatic changes to her diet had slowly affected her powers but it recently had an exponential increase.

This was her fourth month of hardly eating when her powers started to flare at night. It has gotten to the point that Y/n couldn’t control them in her sleep leading to F.R.I.D.A.Y having to deal with her fireside. But her powers weren’t the only thing that has changed. If anyone were to actually look, they would see that Y/n had gotten skinnier. Her literal glow was getting duller and duller the more time passed.

However, Y/n refused to feel sorry for herself. The sentence “I deserve this” was burned into her head. The brain tricks she puts herself through even allowed her to convince that Tony's decision was right. That Wanda didn’t need to tell the truth to the team. That Steve didn’t need to defend her. And that the team certainly was allowed to make her feel like nothing. Because to Y/n, if she didn’t deserve this, then why would you possibly treat a person like this? Just why?

Of course, Wanda didn’t notice these changes at all. The girl was trying her best to avoid Y/n as much as possible. She always had exit strategies in place in case she were to be in the same vicinity as Y/n. However, Wanda also didn’t notice that lack of Y/n’s presence. Much to her dismay, Y/n’s efforts were the reason they didn’t see each other much.

What Wanda did notice though was the slow and gradual decline of snacks in her cubby. It left her to question whether Natasha was done doing these small favors for her. But her reports were still getting done.

The red head didn’t have much room to think though as she got slammed down on the mat from the other red head. “Take a ten - you’re distracted and we can’t keep going like this.” Wanda grumbled at another failed attempt to flip Natasha over. Hand to hand combat was one of the few subjects that Wanda hated the most. With the help of Natasha, Wanda got up and walked over to the waters on the other side of the room. She was gulping down the remaining when Natasha’s words caught her off guard. “What happened?”

Wanda cocked an eyebrow while still drinking her bottle, needing more elaboration. Natasha faced Wanda while hundreds of thoughts racked her mind. Luckily for her, Wanda had trained her on how to make them quiet enough that Wanda wouldn’t be able to hear. When Natasha found the right words, she said, “I am not doubting you. I am doubting her…” Wanda closed the bottle and looked around the room to avoid Natasha’s eyes. This had been the first time that anyone from the team had remotely even asked her about that night. To be frank, she hadn’t expected Natasha to be the one to break the ice. Usually it was Steve that would act like the team’s counselor. Guess things change.

Wanda sighed and recollected her memory for the night that continued to haunt her. “One minute, I left to get a drink from the bar. - she said that she needed to go to the bathroom. The next minute, I come back to see her all over blondie.” Wanda’s grip on the bottle tightened at the words she was going to say next. “I thought it was a mistake - that she could have been too drunk that night - b-but her thoughts were so - loud.” Wanda slammed her fist at the table in front of her, tears already falling down her cheeks. “A-a-and I saw everything-”

The broken hearted girl didn’t have much energy left in her to continue. She dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands. Natasha kneeled beside Wanda. She pulled the poor girl into her arms, trying her best to physically comfort her. But nothing could really make Wanda feel better. What could you say to a girl that saw every moment where her girlfriend has cheated on her? Nothing - you say nothing.

“It’s quite pathetic actually,” Tony said as he spun the rod, causing his player to score in foosball. He was currently versing Steve as the two decided to quietly speak about Y/n’s actions for the past couple weeks. Going on the defense again, Steve shot back but Tony was quick to block. “She’s probably just trying to get her money back.” Steve huffed from the sudden slap shot as well as Tony’s rude words.

For the past couple weeks, Y/n had gone from trying to win Wanda back to trying to win the whole team back. The first thing they noticed was all the completed mission reports and the continuation of it. Clint was the first to jokingly comment, “Bruce must really love mission reports.” But the genius bore a confused look before replying with, “It wasn’t me. Even I haven’t had anything to do in my stack for a couple days.” Bruce had a displeasured look on his face. Clint just assumed it was either he wanted to do his stack of reports or the comment was actually true...or maybe both.

When it was time for the meeting, Clint had asked everyone in the room, minus Y/n, on who was completing the mission reports for everyone. “Well, I’m doing Wanda’s and mine,” Natasha claimed as she sat in her usual spot. No one was able to detect her lie, but then again, Natasha was always good at lying.

Clint was quick to figure out that the only person remaining must have been the person responsible. With a straight forward voice, he explained to the team that Y/n had been completing everyones, besides Wanda’s and Natasha’s, reports. Still, Natasha sat there, copying the confused looks on everyone’s faces. She didn’t care to tell them the truth, it wasn’t worth it. However, the meeting proceeded with little comment on Y/n’s actions. She wasn’t worth the mention.

“What if she actually is trying to say sorry to us?” Steve couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for Y/n, but Tony’s words made the guilt go all away. “Oh - so miss Hydra over here actually wants to apologize - hilarious Steve.” With that, Tony quickly spun the rod and scored the final point, making him win the game. What the two failed to realize was the fact that Y/n had overheard their conversation. She no longer felt hungry for the day and had retreated back to her room, feeling overwhelmingly numb from the confession she heard.

It was a new and different day for Wanda. She had managed to want to try and sit in the common room with her team seeing as sitting in her room no longer gave her the same satisfaction anymore. Scrolling through the tv, she was about to pull up Bewitched when the following words appeared on the screen:

Bewitched is longer provided on Netflix. Please see related tv shows.

“What do you mean it’s no longer available?” Wanda frustratedly questioned. And here she was trying to have a good day. “Sorry kid, I guess Netflix took it off their streaming service,” Clint said as he leaned over the couch. “No why would they do that?!” Wanda said with an exasperated look. Clint simply shrugged, Netflix did have an awful reputation for getting favorites removed or canceled. “No clue, but you could try other shows.” Wanda crossed her arms and huffed at his suggestion. “I was really feeling Bewitched today.” Ruffling her hair, Clint left after saying, “Try to feel for something else.”

However, Wanda had failed to feel anything but angry for the remaining of the day. It wasn’t until she sat in her room for the night, aimlessly finding shows in her room when she noticed Bewitched on her home screen. She quickly clicked on it noticing that all eight seasons are there for her own viewing. Her mood immensely increased for the night as she fell asleep in the middle of season two.

Outside of her room, Y/n had been cleaning up the compound for the night. It was getting harder and harder to clean the kitchen when everything in her wanted to just take a couple of snacks for herself. Her hunger was constantly on her mind as well as the stupid flashes that have sporadically appeared more and more everyday. But she wanted more than anything to prove to the team that she is a good person. Stealing, no matter how minor, was probably the last thing she needed to be labeled as.

When she completed for the night, she returned to her room but paused outside of her door when she heard the Bewitched theme song loudly play in Wanda’s room. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked back into her room and slept on the floor tonight.

“Did it ever occur to you that I love you - like a lot?” The couple were laying in Carol’s room decorated with punk rock posters and pictures of their team. Small plants were placed around the room while Malcolm in the Middle was used as background noise.

“Nah. I haven’t heard you say it in approximately - 10 minutes?” Carol laughed as Y/n glanced at her watch. They laid on their sides as they faced each other, their faces being only inches away. “Well I do.” Carol cupped Y/n’s cheek as she soon grew mesmerized.

There are words to always describe feelings with someone but they all felt overused or incomplete. Because everything felt like this daydream colored borders with warm tones and retro filters as she glanced at Y/n. She felt like she was watching a show that she would never get tired of. Even if the show was in color or black and white, new or old, slow or fast, she would watch just to see her. Just her.

“You do what?” Carol flicked Y/n’s forehead at her response. “Kidding - kidding.” Y/n said as she rubbed her forehead. Carol rolled her eyes and kissed Y/n’s head as she cuddled into her arms, legs tangled within the sheets. “I do love you.” Y/n kissed her hair as she combed it with her hand. “I know,” she whispered, hoping Carol would pick up on the secret reference. Because to Y/n, yeah, she’s worth a whole galaxy.

It was the middle of the night when Steve woke up from a nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Rather than staying in bed to force himself to sleep, he got up and headed to the kitchen for a late night snack.

Heading into the pantry, Steve pursed his lips noticing that Y/n’s cubby had been empty for weeks it seems like. The guilt that was slowly forming inside him kept building and building. Although he knew he could try to do something about it, the loyalty he had to his family - to Wanda. That was something he didn’t want to break.

The relationship with Wanda and Steve was something similar to a father and daughter relationship. Steve had always wanted a kid of his own and Wanda had lost her father. The irony of it all just happened to work for the two. Even though Wanda nor Steve would admit it out loud, they viewed each other as the roles that needed to be filled in their lives. They needed each other regardless of titles.

But then there was Y/n. The troubled girl that made Steve absolutely nervous with how quick her and Wanda seemed to like each other. It absolutely didn’t help Steve’s case when the whole team found out about Y/n’s past. His anxiety had practically skyrocketed. It eventually led to a one on one talk with Wanda about how sometimes we need to protect ourselves before letting people in.

But Y/n was still there. Breaking down Wanda’s walls. So just like any Dad would, Steve watched over. Making sure his girl was always happy and safe. So while Natasha may have refilled Wanda’ cubby and did her reports, Steve had carried Wanda to bed during nights she couldn’t sleep. He made her tea for times that she didn’t want to talk, which was often. He tucked her in at night and cuddled with her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. He was just there.

But so was she. She was there whenever Wanda cried at night. She was there when Wanda would sometimes forget to eat after busying herself all day. She was there to take care of Wanda. She was there when Steve wasn’t. And that meant everything to Steve. So why couldn’t Steve be there for Y/n?

There were a lot of unanswered questions roaming around Steve’s head. Rather than pondering more about them, he walked around the tower, eating a pack of cookies for himself. Just as he was turning the corner, he glanced towards the conference room to see Wanda asleep in front of her reports. However, the more alarming part was the girl that happened to be right in front of Wanda. Steve quickly grew on high alert and observed Y/n’s actions. However, after a couple minutes of harmless actions, Steve forced his shoulders to relax. “She’s just doing reports - calm down,” Steve thought.

But he couldn’t calm down. The guilt had maneuvered it’s way back up to his throat as he actually noticed the pale state of the once bright girl. For someone that had literal fire abilities, she lacked the glow of any raging fire. Feeling nothing but guilt all over, Steve felt compelled to say something - anything. But he froze. He didn’t know what to say.

However, the opportunity soon was lost as Y/n finished everyone’s stack of reports. Steve hid around the corner as Y/n passed him. Hearing a door close was when Steve stepped out of hiding. He glanced towards the direction of Y/n’s room, feeling every need to go to her. But his footsteps led him to Wanda. He picked her up and carried her to her room. Wanda will always be first in Steve’s heart. And nothing could change that.

“We have to stop this treatment Tony.” Steve waltzed into Tony’s lab the very next day. For once, he couldn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. Y/n was all over his mind. The guilt was practically eating him alive.

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s dramatic fashion for entrances. “Oh - good morning Tony - how are you - I’m actually pretty good.” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood in front of Tony, a hologram in between the two.

“Cut the crap Tony - I’m being serious.” Steve crossed his arms. This needed to end. “And you think I’m not Rodgers?” Tony was quick to respond, already growing irritated by the conversation.

“This isn’t right - none of this right.” Steve wiped the hologram to finally get a clear view of Tony as he grew frustrated by the second. Tony simply swiped it back, not wanting to deal with the issue. “Well maybe if she just quit - we wouldn’t need to worry about anything. It’s not my fault Fury hired Ms. Hydra - and if he finds out I fired her, he would not allow it at all.”

“But can’t you see that your stupid plan isn’t working? All we’re doing is abusing the girl.” Steve wiped the hologram again but Tony simply walked to a different station and continued his work. Angry with his response, Steve walked around the table and stood beside Tony.

“This needs to end Tony,” Steve said through his gritted teeth. The man was clenching his jaw so hard, it almost looked as if he was going to break his teeth. However, Tony quickly glared at Steve at the mention of his threat.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Can’t you actually see that I’m trying to protect Wanda.” Steve tilted his head at the awful reasoning for his actions. “How is this protecting Wanda? Why are you even trying to protect her?”

Tony slammed his fist into the table, feeling his anger rising by the second. “We - no - I need to protect her Steve!”

“Why Tony? Why?”

“Because I’m the goddamn reason her parents and her country is dead. I’m the reason that everything she ever loved is gone. I’m the reason for her sadness. She, of all people, deserves happiness. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone else hurt her anymore - no more Steve.” Tony didn’t give Steve a chance as he walked out the facility needing a day drink more than ever.

It was lunch time and all Wanda could think about was the need to cook paprikash. She didn’t know when the last time she had actually cooked. And seeing as the majority of the team was on missions, she could actually cook without interruptions or lingering eyes.

Walking into the kitchen, Wanda tied her hair up and started to take out the necessary ingredients for the meal. It was when she was talking the spices out when Vision had appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the girl. “Vision!”

Sensing a slight rise in her heart rate and anger, Vision had quickly apologized. “Sorry Wanda.” Wanda shook her head and quickly resumed prepping. “I will try to work on making my presence known. If I may ask, what is it that you’re doing?”

“I’m making paprikash.” Vision’s mind grew curious at the word and quickly searched his database for it. “I see. A traditional Sokovian food.” Wanda didn’t realize it, but she had felt a little annoyed at the synthezoid’s presence. It wasn’t anything he did, but Wanda desperately wanted alone time for herself.

Before she could ask, Vision had said, “Good morning Y/n.” Wanda’s quickly grew wide as she avoided glancing in Y/n’s direction. She hadn’t stayed in the tense position though as Vision announced, “Oh - it seems she had left before saying hi back.”

Feeling ever more frustrated with people’s presence, Wanda was about to ask him to leave but noticed the confusion written all over his face and didn’t hesitate to ask, “What is it Vision?” Vision pursed his lips and contemplated his words. It was visibly obvious to see that he was trying to wrack up what to say. “I think...it’s just…” He sighed knowing that this was going to be a sensitive subject to the witch but knowing everything she's been through, lying was not the best option. “It’s just that Y/n-” Wanda quickly cut Vision off in desperation to know what Y/n had done to Vision. If the girl were to even lay a finger on him, she was sure to deal with it herself. “What did she do? Did she hurt you? I swear-” Seeing her eyes turn red, Vision immediately explained himself. “-No no no. It’s not that, the complete opposite actually.” Wanda’s eyes slowly turned back to normal. When Vision saw that her heart rate was close to normal, he continued. “It’s just that...Y/n’s vitals have been decreasing in a fluctuating matter. Some days it would be a small decrease, but some days it would be a big decrease. Overall, her health has been poor.” Vision looked back at where Y/n once stood. If he hadn’t quickly analyzed her, he wouldn’t have noticed that today’s vitals was record worst. “Although she does have physical injuries, she seems to continue to radiate pain throughout her body even when those injuries have healed. It starts through her head and it spreads like a radio wave through her nervous system. I’ve done my calculations and the leading cause could be migraines...” Vision soon was in deep thought, trying to recalculate just to make sure what he was about to say was correct. “...but it doesn’t make sense.”

Wanda tilted her head. Processing this information was hard seeing as at her darkest moments, she wanted nothing but Y/n to be hurt. She deserved it for all the pain she caused her to go through. But hearing it now? That was a different story. It was like an internal conflict was going through her. Should she even care about Y/n’s health? “What doesn’t make sense?” Vision looked hard into Wanda’s eyes as he said, “Migraines shouldn’t cause her heart to stop multiple times.”

Wanda stared at Vision, processing the information that the love of her life is practically dying. “A-are you sure?” Vision slowly nodded. “However, after some calculations, I do believe she will be okay. She only needs a good source of food for her healing regeneration to fully heal this.” Wanda relaxed at Vision’s words. Although she has been through immense pain through these past couple months, having Y/n gone from her life like that would hurt more than anything.

Before Vision could continue his explanation, F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Emergency alert. All available Avengers please head to the quinjet per the request of Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers.” Quickly, the two headed to the plane as the important part of Vision’s explanation was missed. Little did Wanda know, Y/n would not heal any time soon.

The trio arrived on the quinjet and wasted no time trying to figure out the mission that was ahead of them. There was a serious feel in the atmosphere sensing that this had to be bad. There was no way that it couldn’t have been. Because if it wasn’t, they certainly wouldn’t have invited Y/n to this mission.

Lately, the girl has been assigned to only solo missions. Y/n couldn’t quite remember the last time that she was on a mission with any team member nevermind the fact with the whole team.

“Backup is needed immediately after touch down. Vision and Wanda, meet up with Steve and Sam at the Northeast corridor. Y/n, you are assigned to the entrance,” Tony stated through the intercom.

The feeling in Y/n’s stomach worsened. Not only was she hungry and sleep deprived, she didn’t also have a partner with her. It also didn’t help the fact that the flashes have gotten worse. Y/n couldn’t help but pray for a miracle. After all, they were dealing with the very people Y/n hated - Hydra.

Y/n couldn’t quite tell when things on the mission got to shit. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as they touched down and went to their assigned positions, Y/n received a massive swarm of Hydra agents. It didn’t help that her health regeneration was not at its peak or these agents actually were decently trained. Or was it during the third wave, that was currently happening, where Y/n tested the limits of her body.

Seeing the onslaught of agents coming her way, Y/n decided it was time to test out her new ability. She rapidly swung her right arm, building momentum as the fire within her right side blazed. As soon as the enemies were close, she released a fire tornado in their path. It had managed to take out at least half of the wave, but more and more kept coming.

Pressing her comms, Y/n said, “Can someone send back up my way?! There’s too many for me to handle.” Y/n kicked back the agent that was about to stab her in the back, but was too distracted to the point a different agent was able to cut her leg. “Fuck.”

Y/n quickly released an ice wall that at first glance, appeared to be the same height as the Great Wall of China. She hoped the barrier would give her enough time for her backup to appear. Focusing all her energy on her fireside, Y/n aimed at any agent near her, using her arm as a flamethrower.

However, worry immediately grew when no one had responded to her call within a couple minutes. Before she could request again, Nat had spoken bitterly in the comms, “On my way.” Sighing in relief, Y/n continued to fight off the agents the best she could.

But no matter how hard she tried to buy herself time, it seemed that Natasha was taking forever to come. It had gotten to the point that multiple lashes already appeared. Her healing regeneration couldn’t keep up at all. Not only that, but her body was either giving up from exhaustion or blood loss. It was only during the last couple agents when Natasha had shown up and quickly killed the remainder.

Y/n glanced at the assassin and noticed the lack of any injuries on her and it was as if she barely broke a sweat. “What happened? I almost got killed.”

Natasha glared at Y/n as she responded with, “I helped Bucky and Rhodey on the way, they needed it.” Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat knowing the redhead in front of her had practically lied. If backup was needed, it was always voiced through comms.

Even if Y/n had wanted to confront Natasha about it, she couldn’t. Natasha had already left to head to the quinjet. Y/n simply limped a couple feet from her. When Y/n arrived, it seemed that everyone else was already prepared for take off. Feeling ever more guilty, Y/n simply sat at the closet seat to the entrance that was away from the team. But something inside her broke even more noticing the lack of any questions or concerns from the team in regards to her injuries.

Not even bothering to buckle up, Y/n sulked in her thoughts when she realized, “Why doesn’t anyone care about me?”

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #fake memories

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julemmaes · 3 years ago

Note

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien-of-nargothrond @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @hellasblessed @nahthanks @archeron-queens-blog @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @firebirdofscythia @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash @lanyjoy-13 @the-regal-warrior @lordof-bloodshed @dealingdifferentdevils @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #nessian fic #nessian fluff #fluff

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rainbow-shine · 4 years ago

Text

the odyssey of labels, pins and acceptance

@spnprideweek's day 1: coming out/flags

Here’s the thing.

Dean didn’t exactly come out to anyone. And that wasn’t his fault, not entirely at least. After all, he spent much of his life denying the existence of that part of himself, that by the time he could finally begin to accept that what he felt wasn’t as bad as his father always wanted him to believe, well, it no longer seemed necessary to go through an experience that was aimed mainly at teenagers.

Also, Dean didn't need a label to know that he was totally and utterly in love with a man. Dean had accepted his feelings for Cas, at least on a subconscious level, long before he even began to come to terms with his sexuality.

Besides, all the people he cared about knew to some degree that he wasn’t straight (being married to an angel in a man's body hardly left any room for doubt) and he finally felt comfortable in his own skin, without having to prove anything to anyone and without having a script to follow. He had finally gotten off the hamster wheel and something as insignificant as having to label himself wasn’t going to ruin his much-deserved happiness, thank you very much.

Or so he thought until he saw those stupid pins.

Cas had texted him in the middle of his shift at the workshop complaining that he needed more seeds from a flower that grew specifically during this time of year and Dean who since their relationship began after a very epic interdimensional rescue was simply unable to deny his angel anything, ended up making a quick stop at the store after work.

And that's when he saw them.

In any other circumstance Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed them, but considering that it was june and apparently this month was important for the LGTB community, next to the checkout there were a series of pins representing the flags of the different sexual orientations. Dean watched them for a second, wondering which flag would be the one for him before forcing himself out of stupor, paying for the seeds that Cas needed and practically running towards the store's exit.

What did it matter which flag would be the one for him? It's not like at some point he has even bothered to think of a label that he feels comfortable with. Furthermore, he was no longer a teenager discovering the world for the first time and taking pride in sharing with the world who he really was. His chance for that had already passed.

But had he really pass it? Dean remembers a vague conversation he overheard of Claire and Jody about how there wasn't an age to try to figure out who you are and that it was okay to even spend years trying.

Dean had always known that he was attracted to women, with their soft curves and charming smiles. But he also had to admit that on more than one occasion he had been curious about men with strong arms, a stubble brushing against his face and a deep voice.

(Though now that he thought about it, his current thoughts regarding his attraction to men may have been biased because of Cas.)

By the time Dean arrived at the small house he shared with Cas and occasionally with Jack (the fact that your son was god is more or less as if he was studying abroad and only came home for the holidays), the subject had completely ruined his good mood and he knew he had to do something about it before Cas looked at him with his bright blue eyes full of concern and started asking questions that Dean still had no answers for.

"Here are the seeds," was the first thing Dean said when he entered the house and found Cas sitting on the couch, fully focused on a book. With an involuntary smile curving his lips, Dean approached his husband and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead in greeting, his previous thoughts almost completely forgotten.

“Did you have a good day?” Cas asked, giving him a soft smile and tilting his head slightly in a clear invitation that Dean didn't even bother to resist, connecting their lips in a brief kiss.

"Yeah" Dean replied, kissing his husband a second time to erase the frown of concern that had taken over Cas' expression at his unconvincing response before heading up to the bathroom to take a shower and start making dinner.

Following his routine helped Dean ignore his little crisis in the store and by the time he was playfully hitting Cas with the spoon to stop his husband from stealing more pieces of cheese that were meant to melt above the pasta, the subject had been all but forgotten.

But see, Cas wasn’t only his husband, he was also his best friend and probably the person who knew him best in the whole wide world, so when they were both laying in bed, preparing to sleep until their respective alarms woke them up, Dean must have expected that the subject would resurface.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Cas asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that Dean couldn't help but lean in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. When the kiss ended, Dean spent a few seconds trying to organize his thoughts so that he could answer honestly.

"It's stupid," he decided to say, if he couldn't pretend he was okay, he would at least try to get them to ignore the subject.

"Nothing you can say is stupid," Cas murmured, placing a series of quick kisses on his face. Then, with an amused smile taking over his lips, he added: “Well, except when you say that western movies are actually good”.

“They are!”

"Whatever you say, dear".

Knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to look at Cas in the face as he made this stupid confession, Dean pulled his husband's body more firmly against him before hiding his face in the curve of Cas’ neck, breathing in the soothing scent of cotton and sunshine that was just Cas to calm down.

"I think…" Dean began, clearing his throat to force his voice to formulate the words. He had absolutely no idea why this was so difficult for him. “I think I’m bisexual".

Now, Dean had expected many reactions from Cas: from the typical "duh" as it was obvious that Dean had to be something other than straight to be in a relationship with a man, to an overwhelming and emotional reaction like the ones that he had seen on TV, or even an indifferent or confused reaction.

Dean hadn't expected this.

Cas held him tighter for a few seconds before slightly pulling away from him, cradling his face in his hands and gazing at him with the deepest adoration anyone could ever feel. Cas gave him a soft smile before leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss with which he seemed to want to convey all his love for him.

"Thank you," Cas said, surprising Dean even more. “Thank you for trusting me with this part of you”.

And that was it.

Dean felt like a weight that he didn’t even know he was carrying was lifted from his back and, although he would deny it to the grave, he felt his eyes water at the sudden wave of love he felt for the man in his arms.

The next time he was in the store, Dean didn't even hesitate before buying the pin of the pink, purple and blue striped flag.

#spnprideweek #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn fic #my writing #rambleoncas #userstarry #this is my first fic and i don't really know what i'm doing asdfghhjl

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

Text

bygones of the sun. 09 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 5.5k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Moonlight bellows in the background of the warm, golden-lit room—crashing and seceding, crashing and seceding, repeatedly colliding against the jagged rocks by the cliff like tidal waves out at sea in the deep sway of the black night. Under the hypnosis of the jet-black skies absent of the charming twinkling of the stars, you had somehow stumbled through the retreat to your room. You aren’t exactly sure what you had seen—and perhaps, out of consideration for your well-being, you simply don’t want to nor need to comprehend your sightings—but the glutinous image of the broken boy sticks to your chest akin to a dark secret weighing heavy on a sinner’s heart.

And somehow, amidst the long night looming ahead of you, the spur of emotions sweeps you before the door of his room.

Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat and whisper hesitantly next to the wooden frame, “...Hoseok?”

In the red-carpeted hall where dozens of fellow camp attendees rest until the next sunrise, you stand there wondering if Jimin had mistyped the captain’s room number on the emergency flyers. The overwhelming guilt of having pushed Hoseok to his breaking point, albeit unknowingly, had forced the heavy footsteps of yours to this very spot, but now that you’re faced with silence as an answer, you figure perhaps it isn’t in your fate to confront him tonight; it would be the easier way out, at least, for irrationality had bewitched you and plans on what to even say were the last things on your mind… until now.

Subconsciously, your knuckles meet the cold wax finish of his door once again.

One knock, two knocks, and alas, a sigh.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat, despite regretting your rash decision which had brought you here in the first place. You glimpse around to ensure that the coast was clear, and when the last sigh escapes your lips and the balls of your feet pivot to your left, only then does the door swing wide open.

“What do you want?”

Whirling around, you find Hoseok standing aside where one arm leans against the door frame and the other hides behind the door, clutching the gold handle. As you gaze at him in silence, too taken aback to make your next move, Hoseok stands there, heavy-lidded and jaws clenched, disgruntled by your late night appearance.

The uninviting glare of his elicits the uncomfortable shift in place of your footsteps. It’s a rare moment for goosebumps to rise and chest to constrict when in the presence of someone as playful and flirtatious as Hoseok, but the sudden cold mien of his persona now conveys to you that you’re not welcome here tonight.

“I… I was just…” your eyes dart to the floor as your mind crashes into auto-pilot, searching for any form of excuse other than the truth too unready to be exposed, “I couldn’t fall asleep. So—”

“—you could’ve texted me,” he refutes, brows furrowing, but all your eyes are fixated on are what appears to be beads of sweat dripping from his damp bangs. And when he notices the softening of your wandering eyes, his voice nearly drowns in the waves of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the buzz of the vending machine which shrills in your eardrums to this very second.

From the tee which drapes his upper body and his sweatpants which masks the witnessed scene weighing heavy in your heart, everything about him now would serve as the perfect facade of a normal captain disturbed from his sleep. But at least he's still up, at least he's still trying, at least he answered your call.

You want to believe he’s okay again, that everything you had seen was just a misunderstanding, but something tells you the sun won't be rising again after tonight, and that very thought plagues you of your sleep.

A few seconds pass as you scan him over in a confusing mixture of both disbelief and relief, when Hoseok half scoffs and half chuckles, frowning at your expression, “is something bothering you? You look like you're almost glad to see me for once.”

“...why are you sweating?” you blurt, his words completely missing you as your eyes fixates on the beads of liquid plastered across his temples and trapped in his brows.

“Sweat…?” Hoseok arches a concerned brow before pressing his lips into a thin line. “This isn't sweat… I just got out of the shower. What makes you think that, though?”

Your lips part, but silence ensues when you realize neither you nor him seemed prepared enough to tackle the true reason as to why you're here.

“Nothing… really. It was just the first thing which came to mind.”

Hoseok nods, eyelids weighing heavier and heavier as the conversation comes to an abrupt end. “So…” he drawls, “what do you need?”

“I didn't need anything, per se,” you emphasize, eyes averting to the side and away from his watchful gaze, “I just… wanted to talk. I didn't get to talk to you much today.”

Usually, at a point like this, Hoseok would tease you; “someone's a bit needy today, and I know you're pure and untainted and all, but shouldn't you at least know not to come begging for attention to a guy's room at midnight”—is what he would've said, but tonight, the tidal waves under the wavering moon dictates otherwise.

“Look, Y/N,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans his entire weight against the doorframe, “I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. I want to be alone.”

But does he? Because the gleam in his softened eyes, the windows to his soul, are begging you to accompany him through the long night.

“Are you… okay, Hoseok?” you ask, brows cinching in concern.

He flinches, but his brows immediately lift to mask the initial response. “...yeah,” he finally says after a long pause, taking a deep breath and sighing, eyes never budging from yours, “...I'm fine. Now go sleep if you're done badgering me.”

“Okay… you should sleep, too.”

“Yeah,” he utters under his breath, eyes glued to the ground as he mumbles, “I'll try.”

“Try…?”

“I have a lot of things on my mind and decisions to make tonight,” he explains with a final sigh, the void in his eyes lifting to meet yours once again, and you don't notice until now the purple-blue dark circles which only emphasizes the absence of his usual vigor. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

And ever so quietly, as if none of the conversation had taken place under the mist of the night perched high up on the mountains, the door closes on you, and the walls between you and Hoseok become thicker than ever.

You can't tell what's on his mind. You can't even tell what's on your own mind. All you can convey is the sheer dejection, the unusual lethargy radiating from Hoseok akin to a captain too prideful to allow his pupils to witness his own cracks and falls.

You're partially responsible for this—no, somehow your mind had convinced you that you're the one completely responsible for this. If you hadn't pushed him to return, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this far. You had reopened a wound like ripping stitches off a gash still in the process of rehabilitation.

And sometimes, wounds of seconds can inflict more pain than its first and leave deeper scars than the past itself.

You're guilty as charged, and you want to fix things now, but the unwelcoming tone of tonight's conversation tells you it might just be too late. If you've acknowledged your mistakes but the other is unwilling to receive your sympathy, what else are you supposed to do?

You had hated the new Hoseok for laying the death of the old, but now that you stand here before his guarded walls and closed door, maybe things would've been better the way they were before.

But that thought finds you as ridiculous, and the very fact that a part of you still wants to aid him in rediscovering your first love at the expense of the person he is now, finds you even more horrendous.

For now, a shower is the only concoction for such a plague.

Water beads drip from the ends of your hair to the cottons of the white towel hanging from your neck. A rush of goosebump inducing air envelops you the second your right foot meets the carpet beyond the bathroom tiles. Besides the remaining drip drops of the water draining in the bathtub behind you, all that is left in the sanctuary of your room is what should have been silence.

Because you can still hear the buzz of the vending machine, the familiar squeaks of sneakers, and worst of all, his wincing breaths endowed with despair still echo in the back of your mind—gradually quickening and crescendoing into a chaos of a symphony without its conductor until everything collapses, the squeaks and the huffs replaced by the ominous buzz of the machine.

As you run through your hair and turn your back on the door to further bury yourself in the depths of your sanctuary, a sudden rise of events interrupts the temporary serenity with the strike of fear into your racing heart.

A series of slurred knocks—two loud, quick knocks followed by one hesitant bump of the knuckles—elicits a ring in your ear as you cautiously turn on the balls of your feet to face the door head on.

The numbers 1:15 A.M. blink in red digital font from the desk beside your bed.

Who could possibly be visiting you at this time of the night?

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice strained with lethargy finally announces after a sigh, and as if reciting words to a spell of witch craft, your heart stills and your body freezes… because did you really just hear Hoseok? Outside your room? The one who had just turned you away without a blink of the eye?

Even with the mess of your mental state after finally digging up the answer you had been searching for all along, the only and greatest fear which plagues you now is the thought of whether the victim, Jung Hoseok, had somehow caught onto you preying upon his darkest of secrets.

After half a minute of silence, Hoseok sighs once again with a groan, “I’m not here to mess around with you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m on duty for patrolling tonight, and I noticed your light was on. Now open up, would you?”

The walk to your door seems to take you centuries, because the second your hand pushes the handle even an inch down, the door swings wide open to reveal the rather irritated, profusely impatient boy standing on the other side.

“Could you be any slower?” he remarks, eyes peering down at you, unamused. “You’re even slower than me and I worked out more than…”

His white tee shifts underneath his crossed arms as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. The intensity of his eyes with bags and dark circles drooping below elicits a shift in your own body of discomfort. Your own eyes retreat to the ground when his brows cinch and you can tell he’s scanning you over, just seconds away from catching you red-handed.

“...w-what? Can you stop staring at me like that?”

“What? I’m not checking you out or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoseok scoffs for a fleeting second before silence befalls his lips—and suddenly, the warmth of his hands radiate from your cheeks. A lock of your hair lies in the palms of his long, delicate fingers just barely grazing your cheeks, and it doesn’t take you very long to hastily cover your reddening ears and cheeks with your dampened towel. He frowns, not at your sheepish behavior, but for the wet strands of hair which are all that he fixates on, “did you just work out or something?”

Shouldn't you be the one asking him that? It's as if the irony of his actions is his own method of begging to be exposed without having to come out and ask for it himself.

“No,” you retort, scrunching your face at the absurdity of his suggestion.

Just as you’re about to pull away from his touch, Hoseok retracts his hands from the proximity of your cheeks before what would usually be another one of his mischievous acts; and as much as his sneaky pecks and meaningless affection had once infuriated you, it’s hard to admit how empty you now feel in the absence of its wake. His retreat made of his own will is a first for you.

“Then why are you showering at 1 A.M. in the morning?” he cocks his head with a raised brow.

“Says you—”

“—but at least I have an excuse. I was busy cleaning up after practice,” he retorts and shifts his weight to his other leg, musing, “you, on the other hand…”

“B-Because…” you cross your arms and shoot him the most annoyed glare you could muster; while meeting and comforting him were all that shrouded your mind just a few minutes ago, seeing him in a completely fine state like this is enough to put you to peace and shoo him away for now. “...I slept through the entire day and forgot to shower.”

“...okay,” his lips pressed into a frown gradually bursts into a large grin plastered with second hand embarrassment. “While you kept nagging at me to ‘attend dance camp’ and pick up dancing again, which I so dutifully obliged to tonight, you hide yourself in the corner of your room and sleep the day away?”

“Oh, shut up. It's not like I'm an actual dancer like you—” you roll your eyes before stopping mid-sentence; was that too insensitive of you to say considering the struggles Hoseok seemed to be going through? Clearing your throat, you lift your head high and sigh, “so what’re you doing here? I thought you were busy thinking the night away.”

“Like I said, I'm on patrol tonight. Are you even listening to me or are you to busy fantasizing about all the things we could've been doing in my room right now?” he teases and gently knocks his knuckles on your head.

His entire demeanor had reverted to his usual self, and as concerning as it is to wonder whether this is all an act too painful to witness yourself, you're glad to see him joking around again, even if it's forced.

“No, that's the last thing on my mind, but I guess it's not the same case for someone here,” you roll your eyes.

In retaliation to your indifferent attitude, Hoseok leans against the doorframe with a scoff, pulling you back in as you pushed him out. “Like I said, Ms. I Like To Break Rules Because I’m Dating the Captain, you’re supposed to be asleep by now.”

“I’ll turn off my lights after I blow dry my hair, Mr. Ex Dance Captain—” you bite your tongue when you notice the twitch in his darkened eyes and hardened jaw “—I mean, I'm not dating you.”

At this point, you’re not even sure how to address his relationship with dance, if you should even do so at all.

“So, if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, giving him one last pressed smile and stepping back to close the door; but before you could do so, Hoseok swiftly juts a foot out to interevene, and a simple question ensues.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

All efforts to protest dissipate when he turns his head to face you and lets out a scoff in disbelief, eyes completely empty, and you nearly have to lean in to catch his next words.

“You’re always so cold to me,” he lets out a soft laugh and cracks the most reluctant of grins. “Why do I even bother being disappointed at this point?”

A few seconds of tense silence goes by before it occurs to you what he had just said.

For once, he actually cares about what you say? He’s taking your meaningless banters to heart?

“I’m turning off my lights now,” you frown at him, but his attention remains elsewhere, “isn’t that what you came here to do?”

“You really...” he scoffs and lifts his head, eyes piercing yours and opening the window to his souls; shaky, colorless, lost and infuriated by the calamity of the world before him, in the world you present him. “...do you really think I came here just for that? I could care less what time you sleep.”

“O-Okay…” you stutter; you know there isn’t anything to be hurt over, because what he’s saying has made you believe is of the utmost truth, but the unusually blunt implications of his disingenuity comes on all too harsh.

His constant switch in demeanor is all too confusing to keep up with tonight, and quite frankly, you don't know how to read him anymore, as if you ever could.

His lips part, words of apology ready to be uttered, and his eyes soften in worry for a swift second, but when the clock ticks twice, his jaw hardens the invisible wall built between the two of you.

And for the first time in a while, he’s actually acting like the infamous reputation he had been endowed; because he doesn’t apologize, and now your guts begin to twist and turn, wondering whether you had done something wrong.

Was he in a bad mood because of what you had seen just half an hour before? Should you confront him about it? Should you comfort him? Would words of encouragement even help? Is that what he’s asking for?

Is that the true reason as to why he’s here? Is he… asking for help?

“I’m here to check up on your ankle.”

His mumbling interrupts the internal war fared between two hidden motivations; defeat is all that reigns in the realm of tonight—you, unable to decipher his code, and him, unable to send you such codes.

The mention of your momentarily forgotten injury brings a crease between your brows, “my ankles are fine.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is for me, your highness,” he refutes with a pressed, unamused smile.

“But it really is fine—” you stop mid-sentence when you notice Hoseok taking a deep breath, chest struggling to rise while constricting the impatience and whatever else remains buried from within.

Please let me in, his eyes scream.

Your feet stumbles as they shuffle backwards, and in response, he takes one swift, large stride forward. The door shuts behind him, and suddenly, the room seems significantly more lackluster than before.

“What if someone sees us?” your fear translates into words.

“Should’ve worried about that earlier, don’t you think?” he flatly remarks, cocking his head to the side.

“...but,” you frown and shake your head, “what if they spread rumors about you entering my room?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes before returning the look of impertinence to you, “haven’t they already spread rumors about us? We literally made out at the pool last night. And who cares what they say? I’m tired of giving a shit about them. All it does is burden you.”

“Burden…” your mind subconsciously slips the words into formation when your eyes naturally trail from his gray sweatpants and up to his white tee where beads of water drip from his drenched bangs. “...hey, Hoseok, why haven't you dried your hair yet?”

He couldn't have possibly went out to practice again, could he?

“My hair…?” his brows cinch as his hands find their way to twirl the wet locks in between his fingers and his eyes light up before settling into a frown once again. “Ah… but first, why are you so concerned for me tonight?”

“Maybe because I was kind enough to let you in my room and that's the least you could do…?”

“But I’m the captain. I’m the one in charge,” he quickly quips. You can see the tip of his tongue running across the inner walls of his mouth from the protrusion of his cheeks and his hardened jaw, as if preparing for a fight. “So, technically, I do have the rights to be here, because you broke the rules. If you don’t want to see me, maybe you should turn off your lights next time.”

His sudden defense rubs you the wrong way when you scoff, “captain? Huh, funny, because I seem to recall a certain someone getting all pissed off at me because I begged them to come here in the first place.”

“What?” he asks in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Why are you being so aggravated today? Are you scared to tell me the truth? That you’re playing around and checking in on me to pretend and act like you’ve been up hard at work all day? So you can continue playing around with me without having to hear me nag at you?”

You just want him to be honest with himself, and more so with you, and maybe you aren’t approaching it the right way, but you simply don’t understand how to fix the dent in Hoseok’s enclosed heart.

“What?” he repeats, the fury in his boiling blood exuding from his step forward and your step back. “I’m doing my job here, aren’t I? I’m guiding us through the camp, I’m teaching you guys how to dance, I’m even out here past midnight patrolling as a captain should! So how am I anything but a captain?”

Buzz, sneakers, collision, and buzz—the entire sequence washes onto shore once again from the back of your mind, blaring at you as if to tell you to back down.

He continues to take steps forward, forcing you to retreat backwards into the depths of your room.

“I didn't mean it like that…” you mumble, taking another step back until your heels hit the drawer and the back of your head bumps into the TV behind you.

Hoseok steps one intimidating stride forward, arms gripping at the drawer on either side of you and entrapping you in his field of control. He gives you one long, hard stare, and as uncomfortable as it is, something tells you there would be serious repercussions if you looked away.

“No, but it sure does feel like it and it confuses me,” he retorts lowly, “so tell me, Y/N, why are you so concerned for me all of a sudden?”

His watchful eyes and parted lips pray for the hopes that you had seen him, that he had finally found someone who knew the true him, but you don't want to and you can't possibly reopen his wound. You know it would hurt him all too much.

So you keep silent, just as he has all along

“...you’ll wake them if you yell any louder,” you mumble, looking off to the side in dejection.

But his warm hands cup the cold surface of your chin damp from your shower, turning you until your gaze has returned to meet his.

“Stop making excuses. You know they can't hear us,” he lowly utters. “What did you even think I was doing anyways?”

“I-I don't know. I was just asking what you’ve been doing. It’s not that hard of a question,” you mumble. “You can lie to me, even, if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, keeping his fingertips grazing against your chin. “I want to hear your guesses.”

You gulp, diverting from his piercing gaze, “I don't know…”

“You seemed to have a pretty good guess just a minute ago,” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just say it. I dare you to.”

I dare you to say it, but I doubt you can, because I doubt you even know, his leer screams.

“...maybe you had a girl over in your room or something…”

You know that's not the case, or at least you hope, but that's the most believable guess you could muster other than outright accusing him of his late night practices sessions.

“You think that I'd let another girl other than you into my room? Who do you take me for?” he scoffs, even chuckles. “Ah, you're too cute.”

He doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, you can't believe him and you can't fall for this specific trick because you know that's exactly what he wants to distract you from the pain hidden beneath that flirtatious crooked smile of his.

You frown, “quit playing and let me go...”

“Just one more question,” he laughs for a brief second, silence failing for a tense minute before finally asking in the lowest of voices, “can I kiss you?”

“W-What?”

“I mean, last time I was so congested and upset with these dark thoughts of mine that I forgot to even ask you for permission before I forced myself on you. Two elements of a great kiss are consent and surprise, remember? I think I got the surprise part down judging by the look on your face,” he smirks, but all you can do is stare at him in silence.

It's not like you're opposed to the idea of kissing him, per se, but you're against sharing such an intimate moment when you know he would just be using you like alcohol as a way to temporarily numb the pain.

But should you go ahead and let him? If something as trifling as this could even relieve him of the pain, should you give him what he wants?

“Are you… lonely? Are you upset over something? Can't I help you?”

Several seconds of silence passes by until you hear him chortle with a sigh, his arms dripping from your sides and releasing you from his grasp as he brushes by your shoulder and heads toward your bed. “I was just joking around with you. Don't look at me like that, it hurts me too, you know? I didn’t come here to argue anyways, ” he remarks, lightening up the mood. “I just forgot to dry my hair, that’s all. Do you have any snacks in your fridge?”

Nonchalantly, Hoseok plops onto your mattress without further permission, but all you could notice is the slight limping in his walk; if anyone else had watched his strides, including you from the past, no one would have suspected a thing, but now that you’ve discovered his secret, the uneven footsteps of his are all too glaring.

With his head against his hand propped by an elbow against one of your two pillows, Hoseok grins at you with an arched brow and a hand tapping on the sweatpants concealing the swelling of his leg.

“...no,” you finally answer, walking a few steps forward into the room to lean against the corner wall next to the lower side of your bed. You cross your arms and continue, “why would I bring food for a three night trip?”

“Ah, I forgot this is only for three nights. I see,” he nods, pursing his lips and turning to lie on his back with his head nestled into your pillow. The fingers of one of his hands drum against his stomach as the other props above his shoulders and under his neck.

The buzzing of your empty fridge stimulates you to memories you don’t want to revisit, but the overwhelming silence seems to be the motif of tonight and you just don’t know how to fix it; yet the longer he stares emptily into the ceiling above, the more curious you become.

“Hoseok?”

“Hm?” he hums without budging his eyes from the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about?”

A few seconds pass by before he takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, his chest noticeably rising and sinking underneath his water-drenched tee.

“Truthfully, I actually came here after you left because I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone tonight. I was wrong to shut you out,” he confesses; but when you’re left staring at him in utter, shock, Hoseok finally breaks his gaze from the ceiling to meet your gaping expression with a chuckle. “It’s a joke, Y/N. I’m a lonely person, just like you said, remember?”

“Being lonely isn’t a joke…” you grumble, uncrossing your arms and walking over to gently seat yourself beside him in bed.

You’re expecting some teasing remark for supposedly joining him in bed, but what you don’t expect is what slips from his lips instead.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad that it’s all you come to know, but the second you get it, it turns out to be the only thing you can’t have? It just… it doesn’t love you back. I’m the only one trying at this point.”

“Like what…?” you hesitantly ask.

“Like you,” he swiftly answers, turning his head to shoot you a lopsided grin.

Everything comes crashing down into a full circle once it finally clicked for you: dance; dance is the unrequited love for Hoseok, and you were just one of the many replacements to allow him to forget what he had lost.

The thought irks you the wrong way, and as much as you want to console him, the teasing relationship you two have established does not exactly authorize for such a moment.

“But you never got me in the first place,” you snort.

Hoseok blinks blankly at your words before scoffing in disbelief, turning his head and smirking with the shake of his head, “go dry your hair before you get sick, you cold-hearted woman.”

“No, I can’t leave you unattended in my bed!”

“I won’t stay here overnight, alright,” Hoseok rolls his eyes while cracking a smile. “So stop worrying and go or you’ll get a cold.”

“Psh, fine,” you huff, getting up from your bed; but before you could depart to the bathroom, Hoseok’s hands grip onto your hands only to pull you back into bed beside him. You sigh, turning your back to glare at the blank look on his face, “do you want me to stay or not?”

“Y/N,” he ignores you and proceeds with his question, looking you straight in the eye, “what would you do if I said I still wanted to quit dance? If I said this entire trip only reminded me of why I hated it so much in the first place? What would you do?”

Your eyes grow wide; he’s practically asking you upfront about his inner true conundrums, and this time, you’re going to make things right again.

“I would support you no matter what. If dancing isn’t what you want, then I’m fine with it,” you answer. “I kissed you so you would come to camp. That’s all I bargained for, and that’s all I’m asking for.”

Hoseok stares at you for several seconds in silence before scoffing and tossing your hand to the side, “I came here for an answer, but now you’re just confusing me.”

“What?”

“Go dry your hair already. Your hands are cold,” he states, turning his head away from you. “I won’t be able to kiss you anymore if you get sick.”

Glaring at him from his back, you oblige to his demands and retreat to the safety of your washroom. While drying your hair, you spend all your time scrambling for something to say, to fill in the conversation, to keep you from the pounding white noise of sneakers and buzz, but most importantly, to keep him from the ill reminder of his downfall.

Yet, all is in vain, when you return to your room to find him asleep.

Sighing, you tiptoe your way to lie down in the bed right beside him. With your head cupped in your hands propped on the mattress by your elbow, you lean just a bit forward to catch a glimpse of his dozing expression. Only in his slumber is he relinquished of all worries. The crease between his brows has vanished, and the frown he had constantly worn in the corner of his lips had dissipated along with it. Finally, he is at peace and solace.

“You see, Hoseok, the thing about life is that it constantly challenges us to new obstacles… kind of like what you’re doing to me right now,” you chuckle to yourself and brush the fallen streaks of hair off his forehead and to his temples, “but you’re strong enough to overcome it, and as long as you have someone beside you the entire time, everything will turn out just right. You are loved, you just don’t know it.”

And with that, you lean in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

It’s the first time he ever failed to smirk after a kiss shared between the two of you.

With the official set of the sun ironically at the rise of dawn, an epiphany strikes you at 2 AM in the depths of your room where Hoseok lies asleep beside you.

Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, some wounds are never meant to be revived; and so, instead of hurting and turning him away, you’ve agreed to be his sanctuary for just tonight.

Jimin [2:23 A.M.] Hoseok? No... he’s not supposed to be on patrol. I am.

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kithtaehyung · 2 years ago

Note

**edited to say, I mocked the overstimulator getting his zzzzzzs, and then the overstimulatee (me) followed soon thereafter, hence you actually receiving this in the morning, whoops!**

Preamble: Former HLJ (Hubs like Joon) anon back with a review (of sorts?) I figured I'd finally be able to get it to you by stupid o'clock (late late... bc Saturday is our weekly, much-beloved, kid-free date night), however *someone* decided that overstimulating his teeny-tiny wife was the name of the game tonight; consequently, he's found himself in need of a nap by 9PM, giving me writing time!

Firstly, has anyone noted the wild parallels between lyrics in The Astronaut and 3tan?

When I’m with you

There is no one else

I get heaven to myself

When I’m with you

There is no one else

I feel this way I’ve never felt

Is this not OC and 3tan Yoongi? Bowing down to your portrayal of Great Love (capitals necessary).

You writing (artistry?) paints truth in relationships, of feelings, chosen families, raw edges, communication, friendship, self-talk, and even insecurities. Oof. I don't know if these come from recounting your true-to-life experiences; otherwise, you are markedly gifted at describing the human condition. The Great Love kind of love? It isn't easy, linear, or perfect. Great Love is hard-fought, it's personal growth from both parties, and even when it feels like two-against-the-world, it's still safe. And, yes, Great Love makes you strain yourself to look back at him, mid-spice because that eye contact is worth a thousand words (indeed, it will replay in your mind for the thousand days that follow...maybe more). It's his delicate concern for her bruises, and her acknowledgement/empathy for what he must have been feeling this whole time. My hope (and maybe because I'm also a mom to a young daughter), is that your readers understand, through 3tan, that while Great Love *looks* different for everyone, it ultimately reaches parts of your heart that didn't, previously, seem to exist. Rooting for them, Ryen, and trusting these two to you, entirely. Bravo. 💜 ~HLJ unnie.

AHHH oh my gosh.. my love. this was incredibly thoughtful and heartfelt. i truly feel all the sentiments you wanted to convey and holy hell i don't know what to do with these feelings??

when i listened to the astronaut.. and saw the lyrics.. it was a whole burst of emotions bc i literally had just gotten off the Forfeit ride. what timing and how fitting is this? and even the space themes laced into the 3tan9 fabric, too. i was just a little overwhelmed with everything hitting me all at once.

i've never seen my writing like how you describe it. like. whenever i read this the first time, i kinda just sat back in my chair and really thought about everything i've been doing with this series. in short: this is more than a piece of fiction.

like i knew that, realized that at some point this year (well, kinda with the first one after i got messages about it from people with similar experiences to reader before they knocked on yoongi's door) but it is def hitting me now that i'm resting. this isn't just words on a page or something i'm sharing. it's a love letter, it's a promise, it's advice, it's.. a reminder. a reminder that everyone is worthy of love, that they aren't their past, that they can change and grow and better themselves even if they feel like damaged goods.

love is out there and we all are deserving of it, whether it's Great, or platonic, familial, or even Self. it's found in the way we send something to someone because we thought of them, or the way we keep eye contact during sex because we want to feel connected every which way possible, or even just telling someone to be careful or to text you when they make it back safe.

My hope (and maybe because I'm also a mom to a young daughter), is that your readers understand, through 3tan, that while Great Love *looks* different for everyone, it ultimately reaches parts of your heart that didn't, previously, seem to exist.

that's my hope, too. you described everything i've been wanting to convey with this series perfectly, and i can't thank you enough for taking the time to send this review bc it's gonna stick in my heart for a very, very long time.

#my god this made me cry #thank you love #borahae-k #joon's wife #asks:3tan #3tan9 #lovely people #calm tag #*ryenfictalk #mailbox💌

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whatwillyoudodifferently · 4 years ago

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Look, Louts! Lilies! - Yuri For A Hope-Flung Present and Hopeful Future

Look, I’ll be frank. I typically try to keep to a more formal tone when I write for this blog. I’m not in a formal mood. It is June October 2020, and I, like the rest of you, have been under quarantine for a little over three almost seven months now due to the Covid-19 virus. Throw in a eensy, teensy bit of massive political movements and change in response to police violence and racism, and an increase of police violence and racism in response to those movements, and I think it’s fair to say it’s been a tumultuous couple of months. Except, strangely, it also hasn’t been, because so much of this time has been characterized by ennui and isolation. Stressful, yet soul-numbing. In short, it’s been a very weird place to be in.

So, we’ve all found our different ways to cope. My sister’s way has been getting really into succulents(?), and my way has been buying digital manga and video games. I’ve finished stuff I’ve put off for literal years and bought stuff I had heard was good but wasn’t that hyped to get into. And somehow, the one thing I’ve really gotten into has been yuri?

Now, yuri has a very long and rich history, as well as its own sets of conventions and nuances, so it is with a great, great, GREAT deal of respect that I say that I’m going to simplify it for this essay as “Japanese media with a particular focus on romance between women” for brevity’s sake. If you want to know more, there’s actually quite a lot that’s been written about it in English, but I’m aiming this essay at English-speakers who have had at least a little experience with yuri and more than just passing knowledge.

Because you see, I’ve found that yuri fans have a lot of things to say about yuri! And a lot of those things really bug me!! “Yuri is only fetish quasi-porn written by men,” “yuri is only bland wholesome fluff,” “yuri is only high school drama,” so on, so on. It made me mad, but it also made me realize something: a lot of people simply must not know how big this field of lilies truly is! How else can we get people saying “yuri is oversexualized” and “yuri is sexless” as gospel truth? Something’s not adding up here, guys!

So, all that is to say I’m doing something different for this blog: I’m writing up a recommendation list of yuri. A large chunk of it will be stuff I’ve read and can officially give my seal of approval to, while some of them are just titles I’ve heard of that I think will interest others. All of them have been specifically chosen to counter common untrue things I’ve heard about yuri as a whole. I hope you can find at least a few things on this list that you will enjoy and help you keep your head as the encroaching darkness lurches yet a few inches closer!

1. “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s the sci-fi, the period pieces, the action, the fantasy?”

Otherside Picnic

What It Is: A light novel series written by Iori Miyazawa (illustrated by shirakaba). Ongoing, four volumes at time of writing. The story is being adapted into a manga by Eita Mizuno, and an anime adaptation directed by Takuya Satou will be airing in January 2021.

What It’s About: It was on her third trip to the Otherside that Sorawo Kamikoshi almost died, and it was on that same trip she was saved by an angel. Toriko Nishina is a beautiful and confident young woman who also happens to have intimate knowledge of the Otherside, a dangerous yet captivating world that Sorawo can’t help but being drawn to. Toriko convinces Sorawo to join her on her expeditions to the Otherside, fighting off bizarre creatures that have somehow been ripped out of Japanese urban legends and finding strange artifacts in order to make a little extra cash-- all the while keeping an eye out for someone dear to Toriko’s heart.

What I Think: Otherside Picnic is heavily inspired by the novel Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky and features several creatures and scenarios from ghost stories, net lore, and-- there’s no other way to put this-- creepypasta. On paper this sounds deeply unoriginal, so it’s pretty surprising that OP has an incredibly strong identity. The idea of fusing horror with a yuri love story excited me enough the moment I heard about it, so when I finally got to read it for myself, I was delighted to find that the horror elements and the romance elements are both quite strong.

I will say that thanks to the author’s commitment to following his sources of inspiration to the letter sometimes causes him to undercut his own writing (good example: in one arc there’s an ominous train that keeps being mentioned, causing the reader to dread its arrival with each passing page, but seeing what’s on the train will inevitably fall flat in comparison to the reader’s imagination), but those moments are made up by the more original moments-- the things that are left unseen and unexplained.

The place where the story truly shines is the relationship between the two leads. Sorawo and Toriko are great characters, both incredibly charming and deeply flawed, and they achieve a great chemistry with each other right off the bat. Sorawo is a very interesting protagonist, one who turns out to have a deeply tragic past that has made her into a reclusive, somewhat selfish young woman. What’s great is that Toriko, vivacious and confident, everything Sorawo isn’t, accepts this part of her, in a way. Toriko flat out admits she’s not looking for a particularly virtuous person to accompany her, but an “accomplice.” A big part of the appeal of OP is seeing these two “accomplices” bounce off each other, and eventually come to care about each other, all playing against a background of some genuinely spine-crawling horror. Otherside Picnic is a truly underrated series, and I deeply hope that the anime adaption next year will finally get it all the eyes it deserves (menacing phrasing very much intended).

Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores. The manga will be published by Square Enix Books starting May 2021. The anime will start airing on January 4th, 2021.

Goodbye My Rose Garden

What It Is: A manga by Dr. Pepperco. Three volumes, complete. It inspired a stage play that ran for a while in Japan, but not much information is available about it in English.

What It’s About: Hanako has two goals: to meet Victor Franks, the mysterious author who pens the books she adores, and to become a writer herself. Despite having the mettle to travel to England on her own to pursue her dreams, she soons finds that it’s difficult for a young, unwed Japanese woman to dream in 20th century London. However, her luck seems to turn around when she meets Alice Douglas, a noblewoman who offers her a job as her maid-- as well as a surprisingly warm friendship. Alice even offers Hanako a way to meet her idol… but at the price of a horrifying request.

What I Think: In the afterword of Volume 1, Dr. Pepperco openly admits that Goodbye, My Rose Garden was the result of them trying to marry all of their favorite tropes (“Victorian maids! Loads of frills! An English family manor!” are some standout items), and this is apparent in the best way possible. GMRG is a lush period piece that will likely appeal to fans of movies like The Handmaiden and Portrait Of A Lady On Fire, with loving attention paid to details like clothes and settings.

The relationship between Alice and Hanako is quite charming, with Alice supporting Hanako as much as she can while still taking every available opportunity to tease her, while Hanako constantly surprises Alice each time she shows her moxie and strength. It’s an adorable, sweet dynamic, yet a dark, melancholy weight lurks in the background in the form of Alice’s request-- in short, it’s a relationship that feels tailor made for me. Still, I believe this “darkness” never threatens to overwhelm the story, only enhance it in such a way that the reader will soldier on, hoping for a happy ending for our two leads. With an engaging plot and gorgeous art, this is a great manga for both longtime yuri fans and newcomers looking for an introduction to the world of yuri.

Where To Get It: Seven Seas Entertainment has translated the first two volumes, with the final one coming to English soon all three volumes into English.

Seabed

What It Is: A visual novel by paleontology, a Japanese doujin circle.

What It’s About: Mizuno Sachiko is a designer who is haunted by visions of Takako, her vivacious childhood friend and former lover. Narasaki Hibiki is a psychiatrist who wants to help Sachiko make sense of these hallucinations. Takako is… confused, trying to figure out why she keeps losing her memory and why she and Sachiko drifted apart despite being so close. Seabed is a story that spans the pasts and presents of these three women as they attempt to find and understand the truth.

What I Think: At first glance, Seabed seems simple, but it’s a bit of a hard story to explain. In a way, there isn’t much to explain-- it’s a very slow, down-to-earth story that gets almost tedious at times. I think it would be a hard sell to someone who isn’t used to visual novels, but I could imagine it being challenging even for fans. All I’ll say is this: if you give Seabed a chance, it will draw you into a surreal, gentle, melancholy tale akin to slowly sinking beneath the water of a strange, yet not unfriendly sea. For its simplicity, it’s got quite a few surprises in its long, long runtime, and any attempt to explain further will just ruin an experience that’s meant to wash over the reader over time. The only thing I’ll say is the one thing I think everyone knows: the climax will make you cry.

Where To Get It: Seabed is published in English through Fruitbat Factory and is available on Steam, Itch.io, and Nintendo Switch.

SHWD

What It Is: A manga by Sono. Ongoing.

What It’s About: Sawada is one of the few women working for the Special Hazardous Waste Disposal, and the only one in her office. But that changes when the stunningly-strong yet staggeringly-sweet Koga is hired, and the two become close in no time. Sawada trains Koga and soon the two go on their first mission to dispose of the “hazardous waste” left after a recent war… the dangerous, organic anti-human weapons known as the Dynamis.

What I Think: SHWD opens with several close-ups of Sawada’s arm muscles as she works out. I have found that page alone is sometimes enough to convince someone to read SHWD, and if not, pictures of Sawada and-- especially-- Koga are often enough to do the job. In all seriousness, what I love about SHWD can be summarized by something Sono said in an interview about the manga:

‘The first motivating force was "I want to write a yuri manga featuring strong women." I was very drawn to strong female characters by watching "PERSON of INTEREST" and "Assassin's Creed Odyssey." However, I felt that I should differentiate myself by doing something other than a "strong woman" and "weak woman" dynamic. So, I thought about coupling women with different types of strength. This is why all of the SHWD main characters are "strong women."’

It’s a mindset I love a lot. Koga is remarkably strong in a physical sense, but her mental fortitude is fragile due to her past experiences with the Dynamis, and as such, it’s Sawada who uses her immense mental strength to support her. Indeed, every character in SHWD so far bears intense trauma born of the Dynamis in some way, and it’s hard to see how their pasts still hurt them in the present. But that just makes it satisfying to see these women come together to support one another. SHWD drew me in with a unique and often dark action-oriented story with horror elements, but it’s this idea of “strong women” who make up for each other’s weaknesses that really makes it dear to me.

Also, it can’t be stated enough that Sono is so so so so so (etc) good at drawing muscular women.

On a completely unrelated note, there’s a side story about Koga and Sawada playing sports together. This includes judo. I am saying this for no reason.

Where To Get It: The English translation of the manga is released in chapters by Lilyka Manga.

Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!

What It Is: A two volume light novel series by Ameko Kaeruda, illustrated by Kazutomo Miya. Possibly complete.

What It’s About: Tanya Artemiciov is an absurdly talented Mage. So why the hell was she kicked out of her adventuring party? Her leader and former friend sums it up in four words: “You’re a woman, Tanya.” In a fit of rage, Tanya channels her anger into a “venting” session that involves swearing her head of and casting a volley of Explosion spells into the wasteland… and accidentally releases a legendary sorceress! Luckily, Laplace is actually quite nice, and just as powerful as the legends say, so the two decide to team up so Tanya can have her revenge!

What I Think: So, this is a silly one, but after a couple of darker entries I think it’s a good palate cleanser. Sexiled is a loud, not-even-remotely subtle, unabashedly feminist take on the “power fantasy” light novel, especially the “revenge fantasy” subgenre-- and even if that sounds awesome on paper to you (ex. me), it will probably feel over-the-top at times to you (ex. me). But in a way, that’s actually kind of its charm.

I like that Kaeruda utterly refuses to let up on what she wants to tell you, especially because the story was inspired by a real case in Japan. One may be tempted to think “this story is ridiculous, no one would ever be this cartoonishly sexist!” and then you read a news article about how in a famous Japanese medical university was found rigging the test scores of women, and you realize, “oh, people are still this cartoonishly sexist.” So I’m fine with Kaeruda letting it all out in this story. At the same time, I think Sexiled is best when it’s focused not on Tanya’s revenge but on her kindness, and the way her compassion, her strength, and yes, her anger inspires the women and girls around her.

Sexiled is a fun and often very funny romp about assholes getting theirs, with some surprisingly deep and nuanced moments hiding in a very unsubtle story.

Where To Get It: The light novels are published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.

BONUS: Other titles with sci-fi/fantasy/action elements that may interest you!

The Blank Of Describer: A one-shot manga by kkzt about a pair of two dream-builders. They’ve taken all kinds of commissions in the past, but one job they recieve throws them for a loop: a request for a shinigami that can predict and report death. And then comes the kicker: the customer asks the two of them to give it features that the both of them “adore the most…” (Published in English by Lilyka Manga)

A Lily Blooms In Another World: A light novel by Ameko Kaeruda (illustrated by Shio Sakura), author of Sexiled, about Miyako, a Japanese wage slave reincarnated into another world based on her favorite otome game. However, she’s not interested in her would-be love interest, but in Fuuka Hamilton-- the game’s villainess! After Miyako confesses her love, Fuuka decides to give her a challenge: if Miyako can make her say the words “I’m happy” in fourteen days, she’ll stay by her side! (Published in English through J-Novel Club, available on various platforms)

Superwomen In Love: An ongoing manga by sometime about the sentai villainess Honey Trap and her infatuation with the masked superheroine Rapid Rabbit. After being kicked out of her evil organization, Honey Trap decides to team up with her former nemesis to fight evil-- and hopefully, find romance! (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in April 2021)

2. “Yuri is all stories about teenagers! Where’s the stuff about adults?”

Take a look at the previous section: there’s the stuff about adults! Otherside Picnic, Goodbye My Rose Garden, Seabed, SHWD, Sexiled, The Blank of Describer, A Lily Blooms In Another World, and Superwomen In Love are all stories with adult-aged protagonists! But if you’re searching for a more down-to-earth romance, I’m happy to report there’s quite a bit of options to look into!

Still Sick

What It Is: A manga by Akashi. Three volumes, complete.

What It’s About: Makoto Shimizu is an office lady with a secret: she’s a yuri fan who draws doujinshi. She’s able to keep her two lives separate, all until the day she comes face-to-face with her co-worker at a convention! To Makoto’s horror, Akane Maekawa is amused by her nerdy secret, but Akane may have some secrets of her own...

What I Think: This one was a roller coaster for me: I loved the premise of the manga, but wasn’t sure about the dynamic between the leads… that is, until near the end of the first volume, where something happened and everything changed. Without giving too much away, I implore people to give Still Sick a chance-- it has a much deeper story than one might initially guess, as well as an interesting character dynamic between the two leads with some surprising turns.

Where To Get It: The first two volumes of Still Sick are published in English by Tokyopop, with the final one coming soon All three volumes have been published in English by Tokyopop.

After Hours

What It Is: A manga by Yuhta Nishio. Three volumes, complete.

What It’s About: After being ditched by her friend at a club, Emi Ashiana is ready to write the whole night off. All that changes when she meets Kei, a DJ who seems to be everything Emi is not-- cool, confident… employed.... But Kei and Emi hit it off and Emi’s life changes as Kei draws her into the world of Japan’s club scene!

What I Think: It’s hard to explain exactly why I like this manga, but I reeeeally like this manga.

There’s just something about the sleek art, the amazing atmosphere of the scenes set in nightclubs, the chemistry between Emi and Kei, the focus on more mature topics.... it’s a manga that’s remarkably magnetic for how down-to-earth it is. It’s also just interesting to read stories about subcultures that don’t normally get a spotlight in comics. To sum it up, After Hours is just a lovely manga that’s severely underrated that’s perfect for someone who’s looking for a story that’s both fun and mature.

Where To Get It: All three volumes are published in English by Viz Media.

How Do We Relationship?

What It Is: A manga by Tamifull. Ongoing, five volumes at time of writing.

What It’s About: Miwa and Saeko’s first meeting is… interesting. But despite that, and despite their clashing personalities, the two of them become fast friends. Well… actually, perhaps more than friends. You see, pretty soon the two of them learn that the other is into women. With that in mind, Saeko suggests they try dating each other-- might as well, right? “Might as well” seems like a strange place to begin a relationship, but perhaps even something like that could end in true love?

What I Think: “Why do romances always end when they decide to start dating?!” That’s the question Tamifull poses in the afterword of Volume 1. And it’s a great question! What makes How Do We Relationship? an interesting manga is how oddly realistic it is, highlighting things like the compromises people make in relationships, people who get into relationships for pragmatic reasons rather than love, the whole “thing” about sex… as well as highlighting the additional issues queer people have to deal with. That may sound like a heavy story, but it’s actually quite light-hearted, as well as very, very funny at times. With a cute art style and surprisingly deep premise, HDWR is a great manga for older yuri fans who are craving a more mature story.

Where To Get It: The first volume has been published in English by Viz Media, with more on the way.

BONUS: Other titles with adult protagonists that may interest you!

Even Though We’re Adults: A manga by Takako Shimura about two women in their thirties. Ayano and Akari meet each other in a bar and almost immediately feel a sense of chemistry between them. There’s just one problem: Ayano is married to someone else. (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in January 2021)

Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon: A manga by Shio Usui. Uno Hinako wants nothing more than to be seen as a normal young woman, but she just can’t seem to make a “normal” romance work. But maybe Sato Asahi, a woman who works at the same company as her, can show her a new kind of normal? (To be published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, coming in February 2021)

Our Teachers Are Dating: A manga by Pikachi Ohi. Hayama Asuka is a gym teacher, Terano Saki is a biology teacher. One day, they come into work both looking suspiciously happy… because they’ve started dating! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)

I Married My Best Friend To Shut My Parents Up: A one-volume manga by Kodama Naoko. Morimoto is sick and tired about constantly being badgered about finding a man to marry, so her kouhai from her high school days offers a solution: marry each other to make her parents back off! (Published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment)

Now Loading…!: A one-volume manga by Mikan Uji. Takagi has just snagged her dream job at a games publisher, but being put in charge of a mobile game that’s barely pulling in any attention isn’t exactly what she was hoping for. What’s worse, she’s drawn the attention of her strict higher-up Sakurazuki Kaori… who also happened to design her most favorite game of all time?! (Published in English through Seven Seas Entertainment)

3. “Yuri is all schoolgirl stuff! Where’s- wait, didn’t we already do this one?”

Yes we did. And you know what? I’m making a stand! There’s a lot of really, really good yuri stories set in high schools, and I think more people need to give them a chance! Here are some high school titles that I think are worth a second look for one reason or another!

Bloom Into You

What It Is: A manga by Nakatani Nio. Eight volumes, complete. A twelve episode anime aired in 2018, covering about the first half of the series. A three volume spinoff light novel series written by Hitoma Iruma was also published.

What It’s About: Yuu Koito has long dreamed of the day she’d find That One, Storybook Romance that would make her feel like she was walking on air, but the day that a boy confesses to her, her feet remain firmly planted on the ground. When she meets Touko Nanami, a girl who seems to have the same strange, distant relationship to romance as she does, Yuu feels like she has found a comrade. But what will happen when the next person to confess to Yuu… is Touko?

What I Think: What can I say about Bloom Into You that hasn’t already been said? There’s a reason it’s basically considered a staple of yuri despite being only five years old. The art is beautiful and delicate, the story has a deft mastery of comedy, drama, and romance, and the characters are deeply loveable. Really, the only reason this one is here is to tell you to get to reading this manga (or watching the anime) if you haven’t already. So get to it!

Where To Get It: The entire series-- as well as the spinoff light novel series Regarding Saeki Sayaka-- has been published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime is currently streaming on HiDive.

Yuri Is My Job

What It Is: A manga by Miman. Ongoing, seven volumes at time of writing.

What It’s About: Hime wants nothing more than to be adored by everyone and to someday bag a rich husband. Of course, being loved by all takes a lot of work, and she prides herself in keeping her perfect, adorable facade so well-maintained. But of course, the one time she slips up, she ends up injuring the manager of a local cafe! Hime finds herself strong-armed into working for this cafe under their star employee, a kind, graceful girl named Mitsuki. But things aren’t quite so simple-- you see, this cafe has a gimmick in which all the employees are constantly acting out yuri-inspired scenes for the customers, so in a way, the employees also have their own facades. And under her facade, Mitsuki… hates Hime’s guts!

What I Think: Yuri Is My Job is an odd duck, but in a good way. It’s advertised and initially framed as a comedy, but it becomes a surprisingly thoughtful drama about the personas people adopt and why they do so (though, luckily, the comedy never truly goes away). There’s an interesting web of relationships between the girls, and having those interactions take place in a setting where they must act out a completely different sort of drama adds an extra level of drama and intrigue. The cute, polished artwork is just the icing on the cake. YIMJ is a good manga for those who are already familiar with yuri tropes and those who are interested in a drama that doesn’t get too heavy.

Where To Get It: Six volumes have been published in English by Kodansha comics, with the seventh on the way.

Riddle Story of Devil

What It Is: A manga written by Yun Kouga and illustrated by Sunao Minakata. Five volumes, complete. A 12 episode anime aired in 2014.

What It’s About: At Myojo Private School, an elite all-girl’s academy, Class Black has a secret. Twelve of the thirteen girls are actually assassins who have been offered a dark deal-- one wish will be granted to whoever manages to kill Haru Ichinose, the thirteenth student. But there’s still hope for Haru in the form of Tokaku Azuma, one of the assassins who has decided to defect to Haru’s side-- and defend her from the other girls at any cost.

What I Think: I’m not sure… if I can say Riddle Story of Devil is “good.” It’s definitely something. Although its premise is vaguely similar to Revolutionary Girl Utena, its tone and atmosphere remind me a lot more of the Dangan Ronpa series. It’s schlocky and ridiculous and often over-the-top and at times exploitative. It’s pure junk food, basically… and I believe that’s where the charm comes from. It’s my guiltiest of guilty pleasures. It may not exactly be good, but more often than not, it’s fun. It’s hard not to be immediately interested in a yuri battle series, you have to admit.

And if it does have one undeniably good element, it’s Tokaku and Haru’s relationship. They contrast each other nicely, and while one might expect Haru to be boring and helpless, she’s actually quite proactive at times, and some of the most interesting, engaging parts of the series come from seeing how the two work together to fend off the latest assassin. It’s a short read and if anything, it’s worth it to see how each girl ends up. I recommend it for older viewers who are okay with violence and ludicrous battle scenarios.

Where To Get It: All five volumes are available through Seven Seas Entertainment. The anime can be watched through Funimation.*

*Please don’t watch the anime.**

** At the very least, please don’t watch the anime unless you’ve read the entire manga. Riddle Story Of Devil was one of those unfortunate cases where the anime adaption was produced before the manga reached its conclusion, and as such it has a very strange, rushed ending that includes none of what I enjoyed about the actual ending. Several scenes were also changed, and if I recall correctly, fanservice was added in several places where there was none previously. All in all, I’d really only recommend it for big fans of the series.

Side By Side Dreamers

What It Is: A light novel by Iori Miyazawa, illustrated by Akane Malbeni. One volume, complete.

What It’s About: Saya Hokage has been suffering from insomnia, but one day finds relief in the form of Hitsuji Konparu, a strange girl who can put people to sleep. As it turns out, Hitsuji is a person who has the special ability to move freely in their dreams, known as a “Sleepwalker.” The Sleepwalkers have been battling beings that possess people through their dreams, and it turns out they want Saya to join them in the fight.

What I Think: Side By Side Dreamers is short and… well, dreamy. I really enjoyed the premise and I think it’s a good novel for people who think Otherside Picnic may be a little too much for them. I also enjoyed each dream sequence-- I tend to find that the writing in light novels is a little dry, so the use of figurative language to describe these scenes was really refreshing and interesting. SBSD is a fun oneshot that I think is especially ideal for newcomers to yuri.

Where To Get It: Side-by-Side Dreamers is published by J-Novel Club and can be found via various digital platforms and bookstores.

Cocoon Entwined

What It Is: A manga by Yuriko Hara. Three volumes, ongoing.

What It’s About: Hoshimiya Girls' Academy is a strange, almost otherworldly paradise with a peculiar tradition. For all three years, each girl grows out her hair to absurd, breathtaking lengths, in order for it to eventually be cut and weaved into uniforms for future students. Perhaps it is these strange uniforms that seem to whisper about the past that makes the school seem frozen in another time… picturesque, yet stagnant. But one day, a shocking incident shatters the quiet peace of the academy, and the tumultuous feelings that have long been hidden in the hearts of these girls come rushing into the light.

What I Think: Cocoon Entwined is, in a word, eerie. It’s not marketed as a horror story, and I don’t think it’s intended to be one, but I’ve seen some that say they get horror vibes from it. I definitely understand that-- there’s a deep sense of unease that permeates the entire story in a way that’s a bit hard to articulate. The running thread of uniforms made from human hair definitely doesn’t hurt (it does-- I’ve seen many people understandably turned off by this element), but it’s more than that. It’s the sense that everything at Hoshimiya feels frozen and fragile. It’s the sense that everyone is burying their true feelings under countless layers. It’s the fact that in one scene, Saeki reaches out in a dark room full of uniforms and feels her arm touched by countless hands made of hair.

Cocoon Entwined is a strange manga, and I feel it’s not for everyone-- besides the way many are put off by the central premise, the way that the story jumps around in time can be a bit confusing to follow. But in my opinion, I love it for these elements: the uniforms and their marriage between beauty and grotesque, the sense of frozen time, the delicate artwork that feels like it might be shattered by the weight of your gaze, the strange, airless atmosphere, the girls and their clear exhaustion of having to be ideal women. It’s a strange little series that I think should be given a shot, particularly if you want something a little more out there, or a darker take on Class S tropes.

Where To Get It: Yen Press has currently published two volumes in English.

BONUS: Other high school titles that may interest you!

A Tropical Fish Yearns For Snow: A manga by Makoto Hagino. Konatsu Amano has just moved to a new town by the sea, and must deal with her new school’s mandatory club policy. Luckily, she meets Koyuki Honami, an older girl who runs the Aquarium Club. Recognizing her loneliness, Konatsu decides to join her club. (Published in English by Viz Media)

Flowers: A four-part series of visual novels published by Innocent Grey. Flowers focuses on Saint Angraecum Academy, a private high school that prides itself on overseeing the growth of proper young ladies. One notable thing about the academy is the Amitié program, a system that pairs students together in order to foster friendships between the girls. But friendship isn’t the only thing blooming… (Available in English from Steam, J-List, and JAST USA)

Adachi And Shimamura: A series of light novels written by Hitoma Iruma and illustrated by Non that has recently received a manga adaptation and an anime adaption. Adachi and Shimamura are two girls who encounter each other one day while cutting class. Little by little, the two girls become a part of each other’s lives, and feelings begin to form. (The light novels are published in English by Seven Seas Entertainment, the anime is licensed by Funimation)

And there we go! 24 different yuri titles. I didn’t even go into the series that I tried but personally didn’t like that still might interest other people. I primarily made this list to gush about yuri that I liked, but I also tried to include a fairly wide range of things so that, hopefully, any random person who read this whole list could find at least one new title that interests them. And I hope that includes you!

The yuri scene is quite large and wonderful if you know where to look, and it too often gets a bad rap. I hope that this list could give you a new perspective on what kinds of titles are available, and I hope it gives you something new to try. And remember: if you want something specific, try looking for it! There’s a good chance the story you’re craving is already out there, waiting to be discovered!

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itstheimpossibledream · 3 years ago

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Only A Play -Part 4

Word Count:1509

Pairing: AU Henry x FemBlack!Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Some fluff

Summary: Waking up the morning after sleeping with Henry for the first time.-Series be sure to check out Parts 1,2&3 in my masterlist!Also thanks a ton for your patience. Last chapter coming soon! Happy Reading !

You awoke to the smell of coffee and breakfast, as much as you hated to admit it the bed was the most luxurious thing you had ever slept on and to say you had gotten a goodnight's sleep was an understatement. You stretched out and then it hit you. The memory of last night, Flashes of him moaning on top of you, opening your legs wide,telling you when you could cum.It dawned on you that you had the whole bed to yourself, and you didn't know if he had come back to bed last night or not. You noticed a robe on the back of the door,and rubbed your eyes as you made your way to put it on. Turning to look at yourself in the mirror, you could see his name was embroidered on it and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the ridiculous movie-starness of it all. You make your way to the bathroom, noticing the toothbrush that had been laid out for you. Quickly, you brush your teeth and on your way out of the bathroom you almost trip over Kal. You scratch him on the head as a wordless apology, which he seems to accept because he follows you down the hall towards the kitchen. The scent of fresh bacon is really what drew you to the kitchen but as you walk you hear music,and once you turn the corner you decide to stay for the view. He is standing over the stove shirtless, singing along,bopping his head as the bacon grease pops in the pan. You pull out a chair and sit down admiring the muscles in his back, the small tufts of curly hair that peeked out from under his hat. He must have come back in from a run or something, and you found yourself overwhelmed with both lust and envy.

"Hey buddy!" he says to Kal at his feet before turning to see you.

"O." his eyes seem wider than they should be, maybe you should have showered first.

"Goodmorning." you say, taking your seat at the counter, deciding to not make it awkward.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asks,a big smile breaking onto his face, of course you wanted breakfast, it smelled amazing but,you resigned yourself to making sure he couldn’t tell that.

"Sure, I'll try it but, I thought movie stars didn't have to cook their own food." you joked

"We usually don't " he chuckled, I told my chef not to come in last night because I wanted to cook for you. It'd be a lie to pretend your heart didn't skip a huge beat but,at the same time you hadn't resolved your frustrations with him just because you let him inside you.

"O so you think you can cook?" you joked

"O I know I can cook" he said, plating up the bacon and turning towards you.His plate was a mile high , but you had to admit it looked good. You got a forkful into your mouth and while you resisted the truth, it was perfect.

"He really likes you." he said patting the top of Kal's head with one hand as he forked another bite into his mouth.

"How can you tell?" you asked, narrowing your eyes jokingly at the fluffy akita.

"He slept in the room with you while I was cooking, he usually loves to help me cook because he knows he gets snacks." he shrugged.

"O! I'm more interesting than snacks, every girl's dream!" You joked , Henry let out a small chuckle in response and the rest of the meal seemed to go by painlessly.

He stood from the high- top counter as you finished your last bite, his body was a challenge. It dared you to look away, dared you not to give attention to the deep, muscular v his hips made, dipping into his sweatpants. Begged you to look away from his perfectly sculpted chest and the scratch marks that covered his shoulders from the night before, carving paths of exploration over the expanse of muscled skin. You avert your eyes as quickly as possible but, you know he saw and in a way you're glad he was in tune to you enough to notice.

"So guess we should shower to be ready for this interview."he says placing your plates into the sink, honestly it had slipped your mind that you were here because of work. He brushed past you as you pushed yourself back from the elaborate granite countertop, and you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Why didn't you sleep with me after we....." You trailed off but, you knew that your intent was clear enough for him to understand. You saw the muscles in his back tensing up, he was facing away from you but, he had heard you and it felt as though he was buying time to find the right answer,eventually he turned to face you.

"I just- I didn't want to make this any more complicated than it is." he sighed "I thought it was what you'd prefer." he finishes moving down the hall, into his bathroom and turning on the shower. You follow him in a mix of both angst and vigor, obviously you had not intended for him to think you didn't like him but, at the same time, you would lose all professional integrity what so ever if anyone ever found out you were having a showmance like a highschool student.

"Why?" you blurted out "Why would you think that? Why would I want someone to fuck me and then leave the room?" His face scrunched at your use of the word fuck and it almost borke your resolve.His voice was even when he spoke.

"I know you don't like me okay? I know you think I'm this terrible misogynist who has no talent but, I like you. And Kal really likes you so, for what it's worth I just- I wanted to do what you felt comfortable with but, as it seems I can't do anything right, that was a bad decision too. Excuse me." He pushed past you again to grab a towel as you tried to make sense of his words.

"I'm going to wash up now." he said pulling off his sweatpants and discarding them outside of the room.

"Okay." you said not breaking eye contact with him.

“Well your showers in this place are complicated. I can’t figure out how to tuen them on.” He accepted your joke, chucking lightly and shaking his head, but you can tell he sees your gaze for the challenge that it is as he peels off his underwear, standing before you bare and beautiful. His eyes do not break from yours and before you've entirely thought it through you are tugging at the belt of his robe, allowing it to fall to the floor to fully reveal yourself to him. To fuck your coworker twice in less than 24 hours was a gamble but, clearly it was one you were willing to take. He turned and got into the water before you could make a move on him. Turning over his shoulder and smirking down at you, you accept this invitation without hesitation. He pulls you towards his warm and wet body,as you reason with yourself that it's part of your character study.

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

“Fuck We’re going to be late!” You holler from the back of the uber.

“No we’re not. It’s right here.” He jumps out of the car but, you open your door before he gets the chance to.

“Chivalry really has died in America.” he mumbles under his breath, and you smirk to yourself. It wasn’t that it was a game with him per se, but it sure was fun to make him feel unsteady. After a flurry of hair and makeup artists you were finally ready for the publicity shot.Thankfully, they had split the two of you up for make-up and dressing formalities and while he took his solo shots you were still in the hair chair.When you went up to take yours he was on his phone, barely seemed to notice you had entered the room,and you were almost grateful. Photoshoots made you want to smoke. The set was easy enough, until the photographer suggested the two of you take photos in respect to your characters in the show.Actually his exact words were

” In the show you two are lovers yes? So let’s paint you as such.” Never had you ever dreaded a photographer being prepared but, it turned out these past 24 hours were really a first for everything.

“Just pretend you like me.” Henry whispered to you

“Don’t have to pretend, I actually do like parts of you.” you whispered back.

“Which parts?” he allowed his voice to be barely audible for this and you dropped your gaze as the camera flashed. After being prompted to ‘giggle with eachother less’ (whatever that means ) the photos were finished and Charisse, the show’s publicity manager was rushing you to the next appointment.

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satanwithboobs · 4 years ago

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self-care | GN!MC x OM brothers

tw: mentions of reckless behavior, the brothers are demons so they essentially roofie MC but.. for their own good...? it’s not okay and I’m pretty sure Beel is the only one who feels like they did something wrong.

a/n: okay so this is really long (nearly 2,400 words), and it just sort of happened. mainly inspired by my history of reckless behavior when it comes to my health and my resolve not to let the stress of my upcoming week make me resort to bad habits. and before anyone wonders... the anecdote in the story? yeah that really happened. I gave myself stomach ulcers because I kept taking ibuprofen (it was for a horrible tooth ache) and I didn’t eat anything but saltines for days while I finished up a final project. word to the wise: don’t be like me. I’m dumb.

self care is important, everyone! I know a lot of people are starting school again, so please!!! take!! care!! of!!! yourselves!!

—

Lucifer was the first to notice something was up with MC, though initially he paid it no heed.

Naturally, he had always prided himself (of course) on his superior attention to detail, and

He had noticed them drinking cups of coffee and energy drinks a whole lot more often than usual, but given that finals were coming up, he figured they were simply trying to keep more awake for the sake of their studies.

None of this was healthy, of course, but he’d wait to scold them if it truly became worth his while to do so.

And so, he went on with his business, offering them advice as he had on many occasions before. He had even been kind enough to tutor them without the aid of his whip or his fire, something he would never do with any of his brothers. At one point he even let a snide comment under their breath go with just a stern warning.

He truly had gone soft, but he supposed it was best if he didn’t traumatize the human he and his brothers had formed such a strong bond with just for the sake of grades.

And while he had been the first to notice their new habits - all of his brothers had eventually caught on to what was going on.

It was the Saturday before finals that they all finally acknowledged that something needed to be done.

—

“They’re looking truly frightening!” Asmo exclaimed, and while typically his statements were brushed off by the rest as pure hyperbole, they all had to agree with this one. “They’ll get wrinkles in no time if they keep this up...”

“Yeah, somethin’ needs to be done,” Mammon commented, earning nods from his brothers — a truly rare occurrence in the House of Lamentation.

“Maybe I can plan a spa day!” Asmo interjected, an excited expression on his face.

“I don’t think havin’ ya feel ‘em up all day would help anythin,” Mammon grumbled, earning a scowl from the fifth-born in return.

“Perhaps...” Satan started.

“No,” Lucifer retorted, earning a look from the wrathful fourth-born.

He simply continued as if daggers weren’t being glared in his direction, “I don’t care how many times you try and paint it as a benefit for us all, you will not get a cat.”

Satan muttered something that sounded a lot like, “dammit,” under his breath, along with a couple of choice words that Lucifer ignored for the sake of pushing the conversation forward.

“I know! There’s this new TSL ultra-special extended-cut series box set that we can marathon! It has never-before-heard director commentary, along with a limited edition SIGNED replica of the—”

“That’s just gonna wind ‘em up even more!” The second-born responded, getting fed up with this already.

In truth, he was mainly irritated at himself for failing to notice that MC had gotten so bad. He was their first guy, he should’ve known!

“For once, I have to agree with Mammon,” the Avatar of Pride earned six dumbfounded looks with that, with Belphegor actually opening his eyes and Beelzebub nearly choking on the bite of food in his mouth.

“MC needs sleep, not distractions,” he went on without missing a beat, “I very much doubt they’ve had more than four hours of sleep in the last five days, so that must be our first priority.”

“How do you suggest we do that? It isn’t like MC will concede easy, we all know how stubborn they are,” Satan asked.

“Simple,” Lucifer proclaimed, as his gaze fell upon the youngest brother, who had already fallen into a deep slumber once again. “We use force.”

Upon feeling the eyes of all his brothers fall on him, Belphegor stirred, a single violet eye opening. He grumbled, not bothering to sit up properly as he regarded the eldest with a tired expression.

“What?”

—

Lucifer had explained the very simple two-step ‘plan’ to Belphegor (step no. 1, corner the human so they can’t slip away - step no. 2, Belphie makes them sleep), and they were about to begin discussing when to put their plan into motion when footsteps echoed outside the common room.

MC walked in, looking a bit more than a little worse for wear (while their clothes and hair looked fine given the circumstances, the bags under their eyes had become so prominent that they were basically their own entity at this point).

“Oh, that’s where you guys were. I was wondering why the place was so quiet,” they tried to joke, but it came out in such a monotone way that it just sounded more like a simple statement.

Their brow furrowed a bit when they got no response from the seven demons, but they shrugged it off and put their bag down on the table, beginning to take out the many books they were going to need. They’d been barricaded in their room for quite some time, but they had needed a change of scenery. Not to mention, their bed had been way too tempting...

The silence in the room was deafening - even in their bleary state they could tell something was off - so eventually they turned around to see six pairs of eyes scrutinizing their every move (Belphegor was asleep, which didn’t surprise them.

“You guys are starting to freak me out,” they stifled a yawn and moved to grab their coffee, in desperate need of another pick-me-up.

If they had any hope of grasping the concepts in Devildom Law, they’d need it—

They were confused when they didn’t find it where they had left it - on the table, two seconds earlier - but not so when they noticed that Lucifer had suddenly appeared right next to them, their coffee in hand.

“Uhh, Luci? Kinda need that,” they let out a laugh and outstretched their hand, silently asking for it back.

“No, you’re cut off,” he declared, earning a sigh from MC. It wasn’t like they had been caught dancing on the tables after a few too many shots of Demonus. It was just coffee.

“You guys are worried, aren’t you? Well, don’t be. It’s not like I haven’t done this sort of thing dozens of times before, I’ll be fine,” they tried to reassure, though in truth they had never been forced to study nearly as hard as they had for the classes at RAD.

“No, what yer gonna do is let us take care of ya’. Don’t ya trust us?” Mammon said gruffly, earning a look from the human.

“Yeah... you’re really fragile, being a human, and..” Beelzebub started, before trailing off with a frown, remembering they didn’t particularly like being told that. Even if it was objectively true.

“Seriously? I’m being lectured by a bunch of demons on healthy lifestyle choices?” They said, exasperated. “I already said, I’ve done so much worse before. Not sure if I ever mentioned it, but this one time I was up for three nights straight in college.. Gave myself stomach ulcers during finals week because all I had to eat was a sleeve of saltines and some ibuprofen—” they laughed a bit before realizing - upon seeing everyone’s concern only increase - maybe that particular story wasn’t the best one to tell right at that very moment.

MC turned back to Lucifer, shooting him a pleading look. “I need to do well on these finals, Lucifer. I’m not going to make you guys look bad by completely bombing them all.”

The look in his eyes softened for a moment, before he sent someone behind them a terse nod.

Of course, they figured out just a little too late that this was far more than simply a discussion about their unhealthy sleeping habits.

They didn’t even need to look behind them to feel the overwhelming presence of the youngest brother weighing down on them.

While Belphie had done this sort of thing to them once or twice on accident while taking a nap nearby, it had never felt this.. overpowering.

They shot Lucifer a look, and he responded with a somewhat sympathetic look of his own.

“You can’t be serious about...” they trailed off, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “About.. this....”

MC soon fell into the waiting arms of the eldest, out like a light.

Lucifer let out a soft chuckle as he scooped them up bridal-style, giving a quick nod to Beelzebub who had picked up his twin the same way.

It was a side-effect of the youngest’s ability; he could make someone of his choosing fall into a deep sleep if he wanted, but he’d always do the same.

It was kind of annoying, but it wasn’t like he didn’t spend most of the time sleeping anyway. At least he had full control over how long the other person slept and would always wake at the same time they did.

Now that he thought about it, he’d have to find an excuse to do this again sometime. Naps were way less fun when the person you’re napping with insists on getting up before you wanted them to.

“Pretty sure that’s a record for Belphie,” Satan mused, “I’ve never seen someone pass out like that in less than 10 seconds.”

—

Beelzebub happily chomped down on the many food items he had been supplied with as he waited for his twin and MC to awaken.

The rest of his brothers would have hated having to wait so long, but as long as he had food and his two favorite people in front of him....

Beel looked up from his snack when he heard the pair stir.

An annoyed expression settled on MC’s face as they opened their eyes, completely erasing the peaceful look they held moments before.

Beel frowned, knowing they had a reason to be annoyed, but also knowing that this was all for their own good.

Their face softened ever-so-slightly when they noticed Beelzebub, the one brother they could never stay mad at.

They were about to sit up when they realized there was an arm loosely caged around their waist. Behind them, they could feel the soft and slow breathing of the youngest demon brother, as if he wasn’t already awake.

They attempted to move away, but the loose grip quickly tightened, pushing them flush against Belphegor’s chest.

A satisfied hum escaped their ‘captor’ when MC gave up and sighed.

“You’re welcome,” Belphegor said tiredly, nuzzling his face in their neck, much to their chagrin.

“I can’t believe you guys...” they finally said, their voice still rough from sleep. “How long?”

Beelzebub frowned again, knowing they wouldn’t like the answer. “18 hours,” he finally said, bracing for the response.

“Wait, 18 hours?!” MC rolled their eyes when the demon behind them groaned at the exclamation. “I’m going to miss—”

“I arranged for your deadlines to be extended, don’t worry,” MC stiffened when they heard the eldest’s voice, knowing their inevitable lecture was likely to come sooner rather than later.

They moved to sit up again, though this time their living restraint let it happen, turning over to hopefully get just 5 more minutes of sleep...

The human winced upon seeing the stern gaze Lucifer was giving them, though his eyes were notably softer than usual.

“While I appreciate the unwavering dedication to your studies,” he started, moving to sit on the edge of the bed near the two former sleeping beauties, “you do need to take care of yourself.”

“Achievement means nothing if you end up comatose before you reach the finish line.”

MC looked down, guilt settling on their face. Fair point from the Avatar of Pride.

“I—” they tried to start, but a gloved finger pressed against their lips before they could get anywhere.

“No arguments.”

MC sighed, tossing a defeated look to the eldest. All they got in response was a chuckle and his signature smug look.

Silence permeated the room for a moment before Lucifer spoke up again.

“You will report to my study promptly after dinner every night without exception until you are finished with everything,” he said, the edge in his voice coming back in full force. “Understand?”

MC nodded in response. Figures he’d implement something like this.

“Good. I will help you study a portion of the time, while Satan will help with the rest.”

The human resisted the urge to groan at this. Great, two drill sergeants for the price of one. Literally.

They felt their cheeks flare with heat when they felt Lucifer’s gloved hand cup their cheek as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on their forehead.

“Your well-being is important to all of us,” he said, pulling back. “Never forget that.”

“Lucifer is—” Beel interjected mid-bite before he quickly swallowed. “—right.”

“Won’t hear me arguin’ on that!” Mammon piped up as he filed into the room with the four brothers who weren’t already in there to begin with.

“Lucifer said I could plan a spa day when you finish up! Just you and me... sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?” Asmodeus announced, tossing a wink toward MC.

“Oi! If you think I’m gonna let that happen, you got another thing comin’, Asmo!” Mammon growled, earning an eye roll from the Avatar of Lust.

“You have nothing to worry about, as long as I’m your tutor,” Satan interjected before a true fight could break out.

“You better finish up quickly, because there’s this new game is coming out—!” Leviathan practically vibrated with excitement before letting out a terrified sound.

“Don’t put too much stress on them,” Lucifer’s aura flared.

“Oh, uh...” Levi corrected, looking a bit like a wounded puppy. “T-take all the time you n-need...”

MC couldn’t help but crack a smile at the brothers’ antics, their previous annoyance at the unexpected 18-hour nap all but gone (though they would have to speak to Lucifer about boundaries.. while they agreed that their health was important, essentially supernaturally drugging someone still wasn’t okay).

“You guys are too much,” they said, their cheeks flaring. “Just how did I end up stuck with all of you?”

Silence fell upon the room for a very brief moment at the question, before chaos (naturally) resumed its regularly scheduled programming.

#obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #oh my god so many tags

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

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Irreverent Pt. 55 - Utter Fixation

Title: Irreverent Pt. 55 - Utter Fixation

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~14K

A/N: This one is a doozy lols. Solnyshko is Russian for sunshine.

Men of Irreverent: Casting

Irreverent Series Masterlist

"Nice shot." You hug Spencer, his bony frame shaking just slightly as he laughs at your comment. "Bet you don't make fun of my marksmanship again, huh?" he jostles you as the two of you stand off to the side while Derek and Aaron wrap up with the SWAT team leader and ensure that both Novak and Cavanaugh are set on their way to the hospital, with appropriate protection in place while they await their CIA handler. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen," you smirk, before looping your arm through Spencer's as he leads you out to the car. As you pass by Agent Novak in a gurney, he nods at you in thanks. You offer a smile back, trudging through the field surrounding the warehouse. Spencer doesn't say much else and you know he's trying his best not to overwhelm you. You'd seemed shell shocked when Derek had gotten to you and it was only now, when the adrenaline was seeping out of your system, that you felt more capable. You lean against the car with Spencer, your mind fogging up as you careen through everything that had happened. You hadn't seen Clyde yet, so you imagine he's at Quantico. You'll have to ask Aaron about that. It's a wonder they'd managed to actually find you, but you'd never really doubted the team, no matter how much the odds had been stacked against them. Aaron had been the one to take out Ramos. He hadn't trusted any of the SWAT guys to do it. Not when it came to you. He wouldn't trust anyone else with that. Not that he had told you, but you had known even before you got to him. You see Derek and Aaron walking towards you, Derek pulling you into a quick hug before getting into the front driver's side. You expect Aaron to go around to ride shotgun, but he follows you in as you enter the back of the car, leaving Spencer to go sit up front. When you're buckled in, you look over to him. His eyes can't seem to leave you and you're struck by the thought: he'd been genuinely scared. The car rumbles to life as Derek pulls off onto the road and with one quick glance forward to ensure that neither Derek nor Spencer are paying you much mind, you close the distance between you and Aaron in the back. You press up against him and claim his mouth, a silent reassurance that you are indeed alright. He knows what you're doing and he lets you kiss him, the silent ambient noises of the car drowning out the two of you in the back. If Morgan or Reid noticed, they wisely kept their mouths shut and their eyes trained on the road in front. He can taste you – taste your apology, your regret. He feels your shoulders relax under his touch as his hand comes around to hold you to him. As you withdraw for a breath, he can't help the curve of his mouth from slipping into a small smile. "Does this mean we're back together?" he murmurs against your lips. He's not expecting a response beyond a laugh or agreement, but instead he sees confusion flicker onto your face as you move back to look at him properly. "What are you talking about?" He explains then. How Strauss had come to his office with the paperwork. How he'd seen your signature on the first page and she had expected he would sign the second. How he had indeed signed it, trusting that you had your reasons.

You feel your breath leave your lungs in utter disbelief. He'd thought…he'd thought you'd ended it. Just like that. He had signed it out of sheer faith and then gone home to Jack and pretended like nothing had happened. You can feel the pinprick tears in your eyes as you come to understand some of what he too must have gone through in the last couple weeks. You shake your head in disbelief, your mouth dry as you sniffle and clear your throat. "I – I didn't know," you tell him softly, your hand grasping his in the darkness. You'd never known he would have to sign something too. You'd only been shown that first page. You thought that would be it. That just you telling Strauss would be enough. Had you known – "Oh honey, I am so sorry." Your whispered apology is followed by your mouth on his once more, lips ghosting over his face, pressing to his skin. Physical atonement for the agitation and concern and worry you had no doubt caused him. Had you known that he too would have had to sign something, you would've spoken to him. Would've forced yourself to explain what was going on, as much as you could've. Perhaps you should've known better but back then, fresh after the day Clyde had taken you, your mind had been in disarray and you'd acted on instinct alone, doing your best to shield both him and Jack against any blowback from your assignment. You'd acted out of fear. Aaron only nods, drawing you in closer, tucked so close to him, you're practically in his lap. He's reacting to it a lot more calmly than you'd expected. No berating at you not thinking things through, because of course he would have to sign something too, and why wouldn't you just talk to him. Maybe, implicitly, he understood how much of a mess you'd been back then, trying to do whatever you could to remove the trail leading from you to him and Jack. Making sure that if anyone were to come after you, they would be safe.

You can feel his lips at your hairline as you push closer into him, running your fingers down his back, finding that pressure point that has him relaxing entirely under your touch as he holds you. The silent understanding that this – the two of you – was unshakeable. You'd left him and trusted him to find you. He'd let you go and trusted you to return. *------------* Clyde thought you were the mole. That you've been planted at the Bureau under your father's orders. Aaron and the others had filled you in on that as you'd neared Quantico, with Aaron still fretting that you needed sleep and rest before dealing with any of this. If it were up to him, he'd have you hooked up to an I.V. and put on bedrest. As it stood, it was not up to him, so now you're sat in a glass conference room, awaiting the rest of the team. The second you had arrived back at the Bureau, a couple agents had met you all in the parking garage and the four of you had been led past McKinney's office and to this room. You imagine the rest of the team will be joining you shortly, as you all had been the closest. It's really starting to sink in – Clyde thinks you're the mole, he'd talked to McKinney, you were escorted here by agents. You'd tried to protest when they'd met you in the garage, but one look from Aaron had you silent. He wants you to go along with this and not cause problems as long as possible. Buy time to figure out what was going on and what Clyde's angle was. It's only been a minute since you all were let into the room, Morgan and Reid were sat in chairs around the large table while Aaron stood leaned against it. He watches as you look out the glass walls, your eyes squinting, and he can tell you're thinking through what to do next. Aaron finds himself uncharacteristically calm regarding the situation – now that you're back, it shouldn't take much to convince McKinney just how ridiculous the entire notion of you being a mole really was. He isn't being naïve. He's aware that Easter potentially could have a case, given everything you've told him about your deal with your father. However, as it stands, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it isn't the truth, and he can't imagine any proof that would show otherwise. "Can I borrow your phone?" Aaron starts at your sharp voice, your hand reaching out towards him almost impatiently. Brow furrowing in confusion, he's about to ask why, but the urgency on your face has him handing the device over before he can. He watches as you move away to the opposite side of the room, unable to step outside with two agents still standing guard. He shares a look with Morgan, who only shrugs as the two of them await the end of the call. With your head turned away to prevent Reid from watching, there isn't much more that they can do. You wrap up your call quickly, unsure how much time you have before Clyde and McKinney arrive, when you hear the door opening behind you. "Hey Cap." Your heart stops. No. It wasn't – You turn slowly, eyes widening as you see him standing in the doorway, a smile on his face, eyes crinkled at the corners. A soft gasp escapes you as you take him in. Then before you know it, you've barreled over to him, arms wrapped tight around his waist as his encircle your shoulders, tucking your head into his chest. Only one word comes to your mind, making its way down through you and settling against your ribs – Solnyshko. John presses a kiss to your hairline and you can feel the tears threatening to fall. Because if Aaron's arms were home, then John's were the lake house growing up. The one you think of fondly with the rose tinged glasses of nostalgia. Back to warm summers and too much sticky sweet ice cream dripping down your hands. To the thrill of jumping off the pier, scared and screaming and thrilled all at once. To the soft touches and gentle kisses shared on the patio with boys whom you would move on from but always remember. To the child you were, wide eyed and curious, wanting to have it all. He's a different kind of home. "We thought we could use an extra hand." You turn around at Aaron's deep voice coming from behind you, and there's a smile on his face that you're not sure how to interpret just yet. You can feel tears clouding your vision as you look at him, John's warmth still surrounding you, his arm still holding you near as he keeps you by his side. He'd called him. He'd called John. For you. Of course he had. Thank you, you mouth at him, catching just the hint of a second smile on his face before you're tackled by Penelope, who shoves John to the side. Behind her, you can make out Emily, JJ, and Rossi entering the room as well. "Oh my goodness, sugar! You're alright! I mean of course you are. We knew you'd be alright. We never doubted it, did we?" she asks Derek frenetically, whom you assume is behind you, but doesn't wait for a response before continuing her frenzied inspection, her hands running over your arms and hair, making sure nothing was out of place. "But you're alright, right? I mean when we saw what Easter did to you on that video – so, so awful. Who would waterboard someone? I mean, sure, you can learn anything on the internet, but that is still abhorrent. But don't you worry because I'm hunting down the other guys that were there with him, so we'll take care of them and of course the Director already knows, because Hotch showed him, and – " You break away from Penelope, trying to keep pace with her mile a minute voice, trying to understand everything she'd just said, trying to figure out what video… There's a sharp inhale that you hadn't realized was your own. Your lip quivers, eyes wide as the sinking, dreadful realization reaches you. In the background you can just barely make out John's voice asking what video she's talking about. You can't do anything but shake your head in horror. No. No. That's not. No. Aaron. No no no no no. He's looking at you and you know. He knows. No. You can't breathe. You can feel the air leaving your lungs but none seems to be making its way back in. Through the din you can make out Penelope and Derek moving towards you to make sure you're alright. John is still standing right where he'd landed when Penelope had pushed past him. Aaron. He'd seen. He knows. Oh God. Behind you, the door opens once more. You don't turn around to see who it is. Not yet. Aaron watches silently as you freeze, your shoulders tensing. He'd stopped himself from grabbing you right as the door opened, not wanting to give any visual to McKinney and Easter alluding to yours and his personal relationship. He knows better and he allows the part of him that knows the political play here, to overrule the part begging him to go to you. To seize you into his arms and draw you away from this room, this building. Take you home where none of this could touch you. No one could hurt you. Instinctively, your hands graze over your stomach, stopping momentarily before continuing up to your face and wiping away at the tears that had fallen. He sees you take a deep breath. Then another. Lips pressed tightly. Hands made into fists. It's like watching a metamorphosis in reverse – the unbridled, frantic panic and fury slip away, replaced by a cocooned version of you, held tight and wound together, guarding your soft spots within. "If everyone could please take a seat." Director McKinney enters the room after Easter who had already made himself at home near the front, a stack of folders and a tablet in his hands, his eyes curiously looking over the lot of you inside. You, still turned around and facing the other way, and every other person in that room, holding their breath and waiting for you to turn back. At the sound of McKinney's voice, you push through, forcing your mind to shut out the pieces of information that were not helpful in the moment. Aaron had already talked to you on the way up about not doing anything to get on McKinney's bad side right then, and you know that refusing to acknowledge his presence while you had a breakdown in the corner wouldn't earn you any brownie points. So, simply put, you didn't have the luxury to absorb it all. You couldn't think about the fact that they knew – that Aaron knew – about what Clyde did, why you had gone to Strauss, the baby. Your baby. His baby. Your baby. You didn't have the time to let it sink in, to take him aside, to give you both the time to fall apart. You couldn't. Not now. Later. First this. Later. With that, the steel trap clamps down, caging it all away. Turning, you grab the first chair in front of you, while everyone else who had been crowded near the doorway shuffles in. Aaron quickly settles down to your left, a brush of his hand to your shoulder and a softly muttered Later that was meant for your ears alone, but was caught by John as he claims the chair to your right. As you look up, you see Gladys trotting in after McKinney, a righteous look on her face as she carries what looks like a bundle of cloth and a mug into the room right behind her boss, and walks over to set both items down in front of you. With a quick motherly brush of your hair, she leaves as quickly as she came in, defiantly avoiding McKinney's eyes. It's quiet as everyone settles in, the shuffling of clothing and people, accompanied by the groan of government budget issued chairs. You reach out for the bunched up fabric on the table in front of you and unravel it to reveal a regulation F.B.I. crewneck. You're quick to slip out of the stiff leather jacket you still had on from a day prior, revealing a strappy top beneath, which you cover up, basking in the warmth the sweater provided. Gladys had also brought you a mug of hot chocolate from the kitchens and you reach for it gratefully, taking a quick sip, the hot liquid burning a molten streak down your throat in the best of ways.

From the corner of your eye you can see the regret in Aaron's posture as he sees you enjoy the most basic of comforts offered by someone else. Something he should've considered. You're able to offer him only the slightest of assurance with your eyes – he'd found you, that's what was truly important. *------------* "Who is this?" McKinney asks, gesturing towards John once everyone was seated and Clyde was preparing to speak at the front. You exchange a look with Aaron and John both, realizing that perhaps John's presence wasn't entirely Bureau approved. "I am exercising my right to retain private counsel," you speak up before either one of them could. "That –," McKinney begins, only to be interrupted by Spencer, " – is allowed per Section 56 Code 19 of the Employee Handbook. All agents retain the right to employ private counsel in the event of accusations levied against their person as a function of their role within the Bureau." Reid rattles it all off quickly and not for the first time, you find yourself jealous of his eidetic memory. Yours was good, but not nearly like his. You shoot Spencer a grateful smile, before meeting McKinney's eyes once more. "You're paying him?" The question comes from Clyde, eyebrow raised, in a tone so derisive that you have to wonder if he had ever liked you at all, or if the man had spent the past number of months that you two worked together, silently seething at your very existence. You don't have to look at Aaron to know that he's already pulled out his wallet, when he hands you a twenty dollar bill. You slide it across the table, over to John, never once turning away from Clyde's critical look, your own unwavering under his scrutiny. He had no idea who he was going to war with. McKinney looks between you and Clyde, before sighing and nodding his okay. "Very well." He turns towards Clyde to give him the floor. Your eyes narrow as you take a sip of the hot chocolate again, careful to not show any discomfort outwards. Beneath the table, you can feel Aaron's hand resting against your thigh, the heat of it reminding you that you aren't alone. McKinney had let you have them all here with you, likely in reaction to that video, if Aaron had indeed showed it to him. He had the kindness to not make you be alone with the man who had tortured you. If Clyde was going to be accusing you of anything, he'd have to do it front of everyone. On your other side, you feel John shift, his knee skimming against yours before settling down to be right against it, a silent pledge – he's there too, and he isn't leaving. *------------* "I believe we all know why we are here," McKinney starts, his hands interlaced together on the table, a serious set to his brow. He's doing his best to keep this entire procedure civil. You know he's doing you a favor by allowing you to be there when Clyde offers up his accusation formally. He's offering you the opportunity for rebuttal before any of it is written down and documented. Saving you, potentially, from an entire formal review. Part of you wonders who that is meant to protect however – you, Clyde, or McKinney himself? You nod to indicate that you understand, meeting McKinney's eyes. Walter McKinney – as you'd come to learn – was a fair man and his rise in the Bureau had been no fluke. He knows that the reason you'd brought in the BAU at all was because you hadn't trusted anyone – not even him. You have to believe that when the two of you do eventually speak alone, that he would understand why. Clyde clears his throat, turning everyone's attention to him and the screen. Him, you were extremely wary of. You had been immediately after he'd tortured you, of course. However, he'd managed to convince you, that for him, that had been standard operating procedure. He'd been able to use your own fear and insecurities to convince you to go along with it. Were he not sitting across a table, gearing up to accuse you of treason, you might have allowed that one act to pass – he had simply been trying to make sure you were prepared for the worst. Not anymore. "I would've preferred this meeting be held behind closed doors," he begins, tilting back in his chair and keeping one eye trained on you at all times as though he thought you'd try and pull a disappearing act, "However, no matter. I will be walking through the evidence gathered against Agent L/N, proving that she has been a plant working against the Bureau since the very beginning." His declaration is followed by silence from everyone else in the room, and were it not for the seriousness of the accusation, you might've laughed. The screen at the front of the room flickers on, and a black and white surveillance quality photo of an airstrip appears. You're disembarking with your father at your side. You're eighteen, your hair up in a ponytail, John's Columbia Law School hoodie, rumpled from far too many hours on an airplane. Beside you, you feel him tense as he too realizes exactly how old this photograph is. How young you were in that. It's from that summer, so very long ago. When he and Julian had gone on that trip, just the two of them. You'd gone with your father. There's a man standing by a car at the foot of the steps leading down from the plane. For the first time in over seven years, you set eyes on Volkov again. "For those of you who may not be aware, the man in the photo is Alexander Volkov. Volkov is wanted by many Eastern European governments, and is notoriously on the books for the Russian government, despite no official ties. If you recall the bombing in Sokovia, five years ago, you're looking at the man responsible." Easter had been part of Olympus. He hasn't confirmed it, but that was the only thing that made sense. You look around and know that at least both Aaron and Emily had reached a similar conclusion. Nothing else would explain him having surveillance photos of you from a decade ago. In the wake of Clyde's explanation, you can feel Aaron's eyes on you from your left, but you don't dare look at him. The rest of the team is taking his lead and not saying anything in response either, for fear they might say the wrong thing. Ultimately, it's John who speaks up. "She's eighteen there, practically a child. What exactly is the purpose of showing us this?" Clyde's eyes narrow as he realizes that this won't be quite as easy as anticipated. If he'd expected Aaron or the others to display any shock or revulsion at his revelation…well, he really didn't know your team that well, did he? "It sets the foundation," Clyde counters, his hand once more on the controller. "A pattern of behavior, indicative of less than honorable intentions, bad company, and plenty of opportunity." With that, he clicks a button on the remote, replacing the photo with another one. This one is of just you, exiting a building on Harvard's campus. You have to be in your second year – your hair is dyed because Matthew liked it better that way and you'd given in to his request. You're carrying books in your hand as you walk, hair whipping around in the wind. It's you, but it looks nothing like you. With a deep internal sigh, you sink in further into your chair. You had a better idea now of where this was going. "This was taken outside the Lowell Lecture Hall. You were seen entering and exiting the building the entirety of the Fall semester, right in time for the Math 55 lecture," Clyde announces, his eyes issuing a challenge at you to explain this away. Unfortunately for him, his jab doesn't quite land with the audience, as Rossi raises an eyebrow at him. "What does a Math class have anything to do with this?" However, instead of Clyde, it is Reid who answers him. "Harvard, oddly enough isn't known for its advanced math program but it is known for one particular class," Reid explains quickly, his eyes flitting over you with some curiosity. "When you're good at math - good enough to get into Harvard - you take a math class called "Math 15". When you're better than that you take "Math 25", but when you're the best, the absolute best, you take "Math 55": Honors Advanced Calculus and Linear Algebra. Graduates are immediately employed by the U.S. Government because they're too dangerous to work anywhere else. More specifically, they're employed at the NSA." Reid's spiel is met with mixed reactions. Rossi shifts back in his seat, hands crossed in front of him, an oddly smug look on his face. The rest of the team looks mildly surprised as they process what Reid had said. Aaron sits beside you, unshaken, and John of course had already known you had attended the class. Clyde clears his throat, shifting forward in his seat. "Thank you, Agent Reid," he says to Spencer in a clipped tone that has you bristling in reaction. "Doctor." He looks up at your interruption, brow quirked in question. "It's not Agent. It's Dr. Reid," you clarify, your lips pursed, jaw tight. "You took this class?" McKinney asks, finally breaking his silence since Clyde had begun. You swallow, meeting his eyes. He was still your mentor. What he thought about you, still mattered. You can feel the attitude you'd just given Clyde waning ever so slightly. "I audited it. For all anyone knows, I would've flunked out." "No, you wouldn't," McKinney replies quietly, his gaze appraising. His dark eyes holding all the knowledge on you that he'd amassed in the past year of being your closest supervisor within the Bureau. He has no doubts when it comes to your capabilities. "Why didn't you just enroll in it?" You shrug nonchalantly, the large crewneck shifting off your shoulders slightly as you do. "It's a large commitment. I didn't want to be beholden to every assignment. I already had a lot on my plate." It wasn't a lie. Not exactly anyways. McKinney looks like he doesn't quite believe you. You thrive with having too much to do. "Is that the only reason?" he digs, his eyes firmly on you, watching for anything, any sign. You let out a short breath of exasperation which you manage to disguise, deciding to just give them what they wanted. "I didn't exactly want to be on a list of people considered dangerous by the US government. I wouldn't have said yes to working for the NSA. I wanted to be a lawyer." Your eyes cut to John and he meets them, because you both know – you had wanted to be a lawyer because he was. It had been part of the plan. Your plan with him. Your justification is met with some more silence and you can tell, that for McKinney, the deck is slowly starting to stack against you. He now viewed you as intentionally deceptive regarding your abilities and usefulness to the government. As ex military, to him, that was on par with avoiding the draft. "Attending closed session classes that you weren't actually enrolled in wasn't the only thing you did in college. You also made quite a few friends, didn't you? You aren't exactly a stranger to relationships of convenience." As Clyde speaks, the screen changes once more behind him and a photo from the ill fated engagement shoot that Matthew's mother had insisted on pops up. Your hair is curled, you're wearing a long burgundy gown, standing beside Matthew in front of Lippman House, where the two of you had first met. You're smiling, both of you. On your hand sits an incredibly prominent ring, the stone shining brilliantly in the sunlight. This time, both John and Aaron tense, and your mind, unwanted, goes back to the video that he'd seen. There's a chance – if they'd caught what you said to Clyde's lackey towards the end. There's a chance that Aaron knows about Matthew. About what he'd done. You can't look at him. Instead, you look across to Derek, who's shifted forward in his chair, his fists tightly balled up on the table in front of him, his brow furrowed and body tense as he looks from the screen, to you, and then to Aaron beside you, before meeting your eyes again. He doesn't have to say it. The way his eyes go from Aaron and then you and back to Aaron, says it all. Fuck. "My personal relationships are not up for discussion," you assert slowly, the feeling of all eyes on you causing your skin to break out with goosebumps. "You don't get to decide what is and isn't relevant here," Clyde rebuts, venom in his voice. "Is this how things are done at Interpol? Because in polite society, we don't simply ambush people." John's tone might be light but his posture spoke to how much he was holding back in making just that small comment. You know, that if you gave the go ahead, he would obliterate Clyde. "Don't worry Mr. Hawthorne," Clyde smirks. "I'm certain over the course of this discussion, we will arrive at the matter of you as well. Pretty sure I saw some your face in the stack as well. Or, is your objection to the fact that you were never anything official – just used and tossed aside when it was convenient?" This bastard. The fury you feel at him talking to John in that way. For him to insinuate that he knew anything about you and John. For him to talk down to John like that. You open your mouth to tell him off, but before you can, you feel the dig of John's fingers at your thigh and you look up to see him shake his head. He knows that you wouldn't let something like that about him simply pass. He's telling you that he knows what you were, and that Clyde – well, Clyde could go fuck himself. John didn't want you tossing your cards down just for him. Hold on to them. You're going to need them. You press your lips together tight and bite your tongue, your hand reaching for his under the table, fingers intertwining with his. He squeezes your hand gently – once, twice, thrice – just how he used to, before letting go. Aaron watches the interaction between you and John, before turning his attention back to Easter, who waits for a beat more, trying to bait you into lashing out, before he moves on. The screen changes once more, to be replaced with a photograph of you with three boys. You're on what appears to be a yacht, the blue ocean spanning out endlessly behind you. You're seated on the shoulders of a tall man with short, dark hair and light brown skin, his hands wrapped around your thighs to hold you steady atop him. Your hair is back to its natural shade and it cascades past your shoulders, hitting the top of your bikini clad breasts, your white bathing suit stark against your sun-kissed skin. Beside the two of you, are two other men – one with darker hair, standing nearly as tall at the first while the other – a stocky blond – sits atop his shoulders. The four of you are grinning, smiles carefree and happy as can be. The kind of loose joy that is really only found amongst college students indulging in spring break a little too much. "You know, Clyde, just because you don't have friends of your own for show and tell, doesn't mean you can use mine." The smartass comment is out of your mouth before you could hold it back and you know you'll pay for it later as Clyde elects to ignore it in the moment. From your left you feel Aaron's eyes on you briefly before darting back to the front. Well, you were definitely going to pay for it in one way at least. "Patrick Kane," Easter's laser points to the stocky blond man, before the screen changes to reveal just a photo of him. "His father is part of the Irish mob and runs their international businesses out of Europe. He himself now owns leadership of the faction out of London." Kane was going to love that he had been part of your indictment with the Bureau. He was sure to get a particular kick out of it, considering the number of times he got in trouble because you and Ricky decided to burst into his classes and stage a kidnapping. But well, it was usually warranted. Impromptu trips to the Hamptons took precedence over Psych 101.

From the corner of your eye you can see Penelope appraising Kane with some interest and you have a feeling you're going to be talking to her about all the boys afterwards. The screen changes again to reveal Ambrose Hastings - Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself. However this time, the photo of him is shown only briefly before its replaced with another one that has your breath catching. Hastings is seated with you in his lap, your lips slotted against his, a large hand wrapped around your back, holding you close to him. "Ambrose Hastings and his father own the largest weapons contracts internationally, for those of you who many not know. Just friends, huh? " Clyde's taunt has your eyes flashing with rage. How on earth had he gotten this photograph?! You know for a fact that this wasn't posted anywhere. It's from the trip to Monte Carlo for your twenty first birthday. You're wearing the black dress with the deep slit up one side, a tiara sitting at the crown of your head. Ambrose's large hands splayed across your thigh and his lips keeping yours warm, as was your pattern anytime you and Matthew were on a break. John has come to the same realization as you. This is not a photograph that you or anyone in the group would've leaked. Which meant that Easter had acquired it himself. There's a grim set to his shoulders as the two of you exchange a look, before he speaks. "What did you do, pay off the waitstaff for that?" When Clyde doesn't say anything in response, you have your answer. He had. He had set up someone on the yacht to get anything they could on you. The feeling of revulsion that crawls through you at that realization – he had been watching you, even in spaces where you should have had the assumption of privacy. "This is a cheap ploy," John continues, now that he had the confirmation on exactly how far Easter had gone to gather his so-called evidence against you. "You think you can slander Agent L/N and make inappropriate digs to provoke Agent Hotchner. However all you've accomplished thus far is displaying your inappropriate invasion of privacy into the life of a young woman, which would normally be grounds for a harassment suit." The barely veiled threat is in John's words. If Clyde doesn't have anything real to share, and soon, he will bury him. Before Clyde has a chance to say anything more, there's a knock at the door, and Gladys peaks her head in to interrupt. "Excuse me," she starts, her hand against the door to hold it ajar ever so slightly, "There is a call from Director Richards." "See if I can return the call later today," McKinney tells her quickly, before turning back to the table to continue the discussion. "Actually sir, the call is for Agent L/N," she clarifies, her eyes meeting McKinney's firmly before shifting over to you. You can feel the sharpness of McKinney's gaze on you as he wonders why Richards is calling you directly. With a quick look around, you stand with a nod towards Gladys. "I'll take it outside, thank you." With that, you quickly walk around the table and out the door, following her to McKinney's office, where she's routed the call for you. In the wake of your departure, the room is quiet. John turns to Aaron, one eyebrow raised in question. "Director Richards, as in – ?" Aaron looks quickly towards McKinney, whose eyes are fixed on the door where you'd left, before he nods at John in confirmation. Director Richards, as in, the director of the CIA, had called and asked for you personally. *------------* You're gone for ten minutes which might as well have been an hour, for as long as it stretched out. Easter tried to engage McKinney into a side conversation twice, before giving up and sulking at the front. Prentiss and JJ's eyes flit from the door, to Easter, and then one another, the two of them engaged in a silent conversation he wasn't privy to. On his right, Aaron can see John and Garcia engaged in a hushed conversation as she types away at her laptop, seemingly looking up something for him. Aaron meets Rossi and Morgan's eyes, both of them carrying the same question that was in McKinney's stalwart gaze that had locked on the door you'd left through and not wavered in the ten minutes since. Why on earth was the director of the CIA calling you right now? How did he even know you? Despite your offer from the CIA, Aaron can hardly imagine that the Director himself would be involved, so even that kernel of knowledge that he has over the others doesn't offer any clarity in the moment. At just past ten minutes, you can be seen making your way back, quickly bypassing the two agents still standing guard, one of them opening the door to let you in. You're met with McKinney's pointed look as soon as you enter, demanding some sort of explanation. You clear your throat and offer a polite smile. "Both Agents Novak and Cavanaugh are recovering well," you reveal, standing demurely in front of Director McKinney, who eyes you with a guarded look, no doubt simmering at the notion of one of his peers deigning to circumvent him and go directly to one of his agents. "Director Richards asked that I pass on his gratitude for the Bureau's role in the rescue and recovery of his agents. He will be reaching out to you again, later, in order to thank you properly." McKinney nods slowly, giving you permission to return to your seat, despite knowing that that had hardly been everything Richards had spoken to you about. A thank you did not take ten minutes. A mere thank you, would not have gone to you directly. Not if you didn't have some sort of personal relationship with Richards that he wasn't privy to. There is a palpable shift in the room as you reclaim your seat, making a show of taking your time to settle back in properly, leaning forward to grab a bottle of water from the center of the table and then unhurriedly opening it, taking a delicate sip, closing it, and then setting it back on the table before shifting in your seat to where your elbow rests on the arm of the chair closest to Aaron. Your posture is slouched, where before you had been a stiff board. As you lean closer to him, deliberately tilting your head to appear that much more near him, Aaron gets a whiff of that smell that is undoubtedly you. You, without a proper shower, but still you. Yes, it is quite obvious that you and Director Richards had spoken far beyond a simple exchange of gratitude. The tides have changed. *------------* Easter attempts to continue as though nothing had transpired, resuming his position at the helm, the image of you and Hastings kissing – which Aaron had carefully avoided looking at for the past ten minutes, because far be it from to judge you on your past, no matter who it was with – replaced by one of the final boy. "Ricky Costello, part of the Costello family. Son of Frank Costello." Easter doesn't bother expanding further. There wasn't an agent on the eastern seaboard that wasn't familiar with the Costello family. So this was the kid who had punched van Doren in the face. Aaron liked this one. He liked him a fair amount more than Hastings, that was for sure. Across the way, he sees Rossi's eyebrows raise with some surprise, a glint of recognition in his eyes. He isn't entirely surprised by that. He'd always known that Rossi had ties with the Italian crime families. Easter clicks another button and a series of surveillance photos replaces Costello. They are all black and white, with the date on the corner indicating that they are all from last year. You're getting into your car, with Costello helping you in, the two of you smiling at one another. "Would you like to explain what you were doing, speaking with Ricky Costello last year? This was after you started working on Atlantis." You remain nonchalant, taking another sip of the hot chocolate that was bound to be cold by now, but you'd never deny yourself chocolate in any form. You casually smirk up at Easter's question, answering it only with a shrug. "Were you giving Costello information regarding Atlantis?" Easter probes, his frustration with your changed demeanor highly evident. He had preferred when you were at least somewhat taking this seriously. "Is a connection with the Costello family all it takes to accuse someone of treason nowadays?" you drawl, eyeing Easter from behind the rim of your mug, before leaning forward and setting it down on the table. "In that case, there might be some other people you want to have a talk with." Aaron is fully expecting you to be hinting at Rossi with that line, though why you'd throw him under the bus was a mystery. However, he watches as you stare resolutely ahead. Except, you aren't looking at Easter. You definitely aren't looking at Rossi. No, you're looking at McKinney. McKinney who, if Aaron isn't mistaken, looks just the slightest bit uncomfortable in the wake of your statement. McKinney who shifts in his chair ever so slightly, his eyes darting down and to the left imperceptibly quickly – something that might have gone unnoticed otherwise, but unfortunately for him, he happened to be seated in a room full of profilers. Huh. "Let's move on, shall we," McKinney instructs Easter, avoiding your eyes and everyone else's in the room. Easter's mouth falls open in disbelief at the turn of events. Your presence, which you'd kept buttoned up for the first half of this meeting, now permeated the room, and Aaron is reminded all over again of your interview. How he had initially sat back, waiting for you to stumble. How you'd gone one by one, getting to or through to each of them. How you'd called out even his bluff. You were commanding, charming, and serene all at once, and he'd marveled at how one person could possibly embody all those things at the same time. "You shot me!" Easter accuses, grasping for something, provoked by your calm attitude, and believing that to be his hole in one. The one thing that could not be denied. His one piece of evidence against you that couldn't be brushed aside, threatened away, or dismissed. "Yes, you got me there," you chuckle lightly, and Aaron almost feels bad for Easter. Almost. Across the way, Morgan has a smirk on his face that likely matches his own. You shift forward, placing your hands on the table in front of you, your eyes trained critically on Easter and Easter alone. "I shot you twice, actually. Once, two centimeters above the center of the heart and another to the left, one centimeter below the fifth rib. Both shots take advantage of the portions of the vest designed to be thickest and also are far enough away from any major arteries to avoid you bleeding out to death in the event that the vest isn't enough. Even if both shots had made it to their destination, you would have had at least thirty five to forty minutes, at minimum, before you were in any real danger of not recovering. If you don't believe me, I suggest you ask a doctor." With that, you lean back once more, giving both Easter and McKinney the opportunity to offer a response in opposition. After a few seconds, when neither one is forthcoming, you sit up straight once more. "Why were you dismissed from Project Olympus?" *------------* You watch, your eyes directly on Clyde as he falters under your gaze. You can tell that your question had caught McKinney by surprise as well. McKinney, who had looked at you differently ever since the call with Richards. You would have to thank the man later. His call could not have come at a more opportune time. With Clyde unable to answer the question, you decide to answer it for him. "Is it because you wasted resources and defied orders by continuing surveillance on me because you were convinced that I had something to do with my father's business?"

“How would you know that?” McKinney asks, though his eyes say that he already knows. He is merely confirming in order to have your answer on the record.

“Director Richards was on Olympus as well,” you answer. “He was highly surprised when he learned that Agent Easter was overseeing the investigation into the Atlantis disappearances.”

McKinney nods, having expected that, you’re sure. You already know he’s trying his best to piece together what little he could about your conversation with Richards. No doubt, it’s something he’ll question you about in more detail when it’s just the two of you later on.

You both turn back to Clyde expectantly, still waiting for him to chime in with an explanation. Director Richards’ word would be taken at face value and McKinney wouldn’t question it. Not for this. "Anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention – every single person on that assignment – they should've seen what I saw,” Clyde seethed, pushing up from the table and standing up, his body trembling with caged fury. “He took you along to meetings. He introduced you to his contacts. You were being initiated, tested. Of course I kept an eye on you! It would have been negligent not to." You shake your head in disbelief at exactly how unhinged he sounded. How incensed. This wasn’t a man who had proof. This was a man who had believed his theory for a long time, and was unwilling to part ways with it. "And what did you see?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest. "I saw a girl who was making connections - with everyone. Sons of the mob, the mafia, and the cartels. Saudi princes and daughters of Russian tycoons. Up and coming Chinese heiresses. If there was a single person with even the slightest of pull on that campus, they knew your name. They considered you a friend. You're telling me that's the move of someone who wasn't establishing themselves to take over the reins?" "What can I say? I'm a friendly person."

It wasn’t clear to just you. It was clear to everyone that Clyde didn’t have proof. None to speak of. "If you'd spent even half as much time and effort into watching her father that you did into watching her, maybe you would have learned enough about him to know that he would have never made her his plant in the Bureau. A plant is someone dispensable. You don't put what is potentially your best asset in the hands of the enemy. Far too much danger of them turning," John declared, his face betraying how astonished he felt at Clyde’s obsession with you. Of all people, he’s had some experience in men who become unhealthily attached to you. It never ends well for them. "Not to mention the fact that you cannot possibly think very highly of me,” you continue from where John left off. “If you think my grand plan was to bide my time within a faction of the Bureau with minimal ties to core operations, wait four years to enter into a relationship with a Unit Chief, compared to whom, my clearance level is actually significantly higher,” you state, before turning to place a hand on Aaron’s arm. “No offense honey.”

Aaron barely conceals his amused snort at that, the smirk that had taken residence on his face ever since you flipped the tables on Easter, firmly in place. "That's true,” John agrees, and you can tell that he’s enjoying the return to your typical repartee that the two of you have always had. The one that most outsiders find intimidating to keep up with. “If you'd wanted to infiltrate the Bureau, that role in White Collar was much better suited.” "You’re right,” you nod. “And it would've taken me only a couple of months to get everything I need. Agent Barton would've been an easy mark. I'm just his type."

Aaron watches as Easter appears to regroup and the Director looks deep in thought as he works his way through the quick back and forth performance you and John had put forward. From the corner of his eye, he sees John lean in to you, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he whispers something into your ear. You lean back sharply, your face the picture of disbelief as you think through whatever it was that he’d said to you.

Clearing your throat, you nod towards Garcia. “Agent Garcia, could you please pull up the first case I ever logged? It would have been during the third month that I was a trainee.”

From the front of the room both McKinney and Easter’ brows furrow, along with the rest of theirs, wondering what you were getting at. It’s Morgan who voices what they were all thinking. “What does your first case logged have to do with this?”

Your eyes flit from Morgan to Easter, barely stopping at McKinney, before you wordlessly direct Garcia to proceed with pulling up the case. “My third month while I was a trainee, someone broke into my apartment. Nothing was taken, but I could tell that someone had been there, so I dusted for prints and logged it. I ran it against the system but it didn’t turn up with anything then. The thing is, trainees only have access to the domestic IAFIS database.”

At that, your eyes flash dangerously towards Easter and the implication of what you’re saying has Aaron’s hackles raised. Easter sits straighter, just the slightest bit tense as Garcia pulls up the case and then runs them against Easter’s fingerprints.

The blaring negative result for a match has your jaw tightening and Easter sporting a smug smile that Aaron truly can’t wait to have wiped off of his face forever.

You take a breath, knowing that running it against the entire system would take far too long. Eyes narrowed, you look towards Easter once more. “You don’t really like getting your hands dirty yourself, do you?” you muse, your voice low and contemplative as you appraise Easter’s reaction to your conjecture.

“Garcia, compare the prints against Eli Black, Harold Woodshire, and Stefan Dupont.”

Garcia starts to pull up the prints of the Interpol agents you’d provided, when McKinney jumps in. “Agent L/N, don’t you think you are perhaps being just a little paranoid?”

Garcia looks between you and McKinney, the two of you engaged in a standoff that he was unlikely to win.

“Run it,” you instruct, knowing that Garcia’s loyalty to you far outweighed anything that McKinney could say to her in that moment.

The entire room waits with bated breath as Garcia runs the prints against the names provided. It’s tense as Easter’s eyes flit nervously between the screen that Garcia had commandeered away from him, and both you and McKinney, still looking at one another, your gaze staunchly defiant.

The system blares, stopping at Eli Black – a 100% match. They all look to the screen and Aaron’s stomach clenches as they look at the face of the man who had beaten you and strapped you down in the video, his eyes just as pale and emotionless in his Interpol I.D. photograph as they’d been when he’d put his hands on you.

There’s a tight smile on your face, your eyes shifting away from McKinney’s without comment, fixed on Easter once more. “I didn’t actually go to law school, but we happen to have two lawyers in the room right now. Remind me,” you say, a quirk of your eyebrow in John’s direction, “what’s the fourth amendment, again?”

John has a dark smirk on his face as he realizes you’re finally giving him full permission to do whatever he wants to, and in that moment, Aaron can quite easily see how he had the highest conviction rate in the entire New York state D.A.’s office. “The Fourth Amendment strictly prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures,” he states, the forced calm of his voice just barely masking the thundering rage that was coming off of him in waves, his chest expanding as he sits at his full height, towering over the table.

“How much you want to bet, that wasn’t a sanctioned search?” you quip, mirroring his expression, your tone hinting that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had paired up to dress someone down in prime fashion.

“Easy enough to find out. All we’d have to do is pull up the logs on warrants,” John replies, his eyes locked on Easter, daring him to say or do anything to further paint himself into a corner.

There’s a beat while Clyde seems to process everything that had just happened. Absorb how the script had been flipped around on him. McKinney was looking at him with a great deal of concern and you know that Clyde can see it on the Director’s face as well – any credibility that Clyde might have had with him was quickly dissipating. The combination of that video and everything that had come forward, along with the lack of concrete proof and now this, had McKinney finally arriving at a decision regarding the validity of Clyde’s accusation. "Then why?” Clyde asks, sounding as though he couldn’t quite believe anything that had transpired. “Why would someone of your pedigree and connections ever deign to be a federal agent?”

You close your eyes for a moment, having put together the final piece that had always plagued you. You don’t have to guess at whether or not you’re right. You know you are.

“Because you knew. People like you, knew. You knew that he murdered Julian and you chose to look the other way. Pinning him for killing some kid didn’t matter to you. Not when you could potentially be the people to bring down him and his empire. Why settle? Because you knew, and the second he decided to turn on me, you’d let him get away with that too. Because I refused to be yet another casualty of my father’s greed.”

You can feel the tears glistening in your eyes and you’re quick to blink them away while Aaron finds your hand on the table and grasps it firmly in his, his thumb caressing your palm comfortingly. He hadn't known that you'd truly feared this level of retaliation from your father, and your desperation to get onto the team takes on a new layer of meaning for him.

You clear your throat before continuing, taking stock of every single person seated around that table that was here because of you. JJ, smiling at you kindly while throwing her dirtiest looks at Clyde. Spencer, who had chimed in repeatedly and who you knew was about to pester you about Math 55’s coursework endlessly afterwards – after all, there had been a reason you’d never told him about it. Rossi, smugly claiming you as his own, his gaze proud as can be. Penelope, who was still wordlessly apologizing for bringing up that video earlier, and who you knew was going to ruin those guys’ lives because of what they had done to you. Emily, who was glaring daggers at Clyde and likely planning out the various ways she could torture him right back. Derek, who would have your back in any situation, any circumstance, no matter what. Aaron, whose hand was warm against yours and who had let you handle this yourself because that was your guys’ agreement. At work, you were your own person and he would allow you to navigate and deal with everything by yourself, until you asked for his help. Aaron, who would go out of his way to do anything for you at home, who would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were alright.

“Because, you’ve seen what this team does in order to protect our own. Joining them ensured that I couldn’t just disappear.”

*------------* There’s a long silence, during which all you’re really aware of is the seconds hand on the clock ticking away. Clyde isn’t looking at anyone. McKinney is switching between looking at you and Clyde both and you can feel him assessing everything said and shown. Weighing the proof or lack thereof. Thinking through the implications of Richards offering up the information on Clyde’s dismissal to you personally.

Beside you, Aaron has shifted and dragged your hand back with his, placing both in his lap so he can hold onto yours tighter. You can’t help but feel your heart tremble ever so much as his thumb drags itself back and forth over your palm, paying extra special attention to the deep indentations that have been left over the past couple of days, and especially the past half hour.

When you’d said that this team protects its own, what you’d really meant was Aaron. Of course the rest of them would protect you too, in a heartbeat. But Aaron protects differently. He does what needs to be done. Not what you ask him to do. Maybe at the time, you’d resented him for lying about Emily’s death. Over time, you’ve come to realize that he had done whatever needed to be done to make sure that she would be safe. He’d known the team would hate him for it and he’d done it anyways, because who cared if you were upset with him or not talking to him as long as it also meant that Emily was safe and alive.

To your other side, John has shifted so he’s leaning closer to you, his elbow on the arm of your chair, and you know that he – out of them all – had known how truly afraid you’d been in New York. How you’d lived in constant fear of your father finding out what you and him were doing and turning the full brunt of his fury towards you. You wouldn’t have survived that. Not then.

After a few more minutes, McKinney stands, and you know he’s arrived at a decision. “There remains the matter of the actual mole,” he states, bypassing any discussion on anything you or Clyde had said. With that one statement, he was declaring your innocence while electing to ignore everything else. You shouldn’t have expected any different from him. For him, all that mattered was ensuring the sanctity of the Bureau.

You squeeze Aaron’s hand before your hand away, back to the table, and with a nod at McKinney, turn to Clyde. “Where’s my locket?”

However, instead of Clyde, it’s Aaron who answers you. “I have it.”

You turn back towards him and watch as he shifts to bring out the chain and pendant from the inside pocket of his jacket and set it on the table in front of you gently.

Why Aaron had the locket instead of Clyde, was something you’d have to ask him later. For the time being, you focused on answering the Director’s question.

“When I was with Jansen, he revealed some details regarding the mole which were enough for me to create a preliminary profile,” you divulge, reaching and picking up the locket. “Rossi, can I see your wallet?”

Rossi gives you an odd look, but leans into his pants pocket and retrieves the wallet, tossing it to you from across the table.

You flip it open and search though, looking for the thick metal card, while everyone’s eyes are on you. When you find what you’re looking for, you fish it out.

“I just need to double check a couple of details, but if I’m not mistaken, I think I know who in the Bureau is the mole,” you say, as you latch the metal card into the bottom two prongs of the pendant, and with some leverage from the table, manage to flip them open.

Aaron looks at you and you mutter a quick Sorry, honey to him, before sliding the stone out of the setting to reveal a black memory card behind it.

Everyone watches as the memory card is taken out of the base of the pendant, having sat there behind the deep emerald stone, unbeknownst to them all. You slide it over to Garcia, who eagerly takes it off your hand.

“When we started looking at everyone on the project team for Atlantis,” you start again while Garcia is working on getting the information in the chip loaded to her computer, “we tracked financial statements primarily, to see who was receiving or had funds available to them which they shouldn’t. Additionally, I did an assessment of assets – mostly real estate and artwork – as that is often used to hide illegal assets. Most people checked out, others had some assets that were questionable but nothing that rose to the threshold that we were using for our assessment. However, during my conversation with Jansen, he told me that the mole in the Bureau was effective because he didn’t take monetary payment.”

“What kind of payment does he take?” McKinney asks curiously, now leaning in across the table. He’d seemed mildly taken aback when you’d broken the pendant to take out the microchip you’d hidden, and now that you were being forthcoming about your suspicions, seemed more than willing to listen to what you had to say.

Clyde sat sulking at the front.

You clear your throat, a grimace taking form as you recall your conversation with Jansen. “Apparently, little girls make for compelling payment.”

JJ has a sharp inhale and Garcia momentarily stops typing as your words sink in.

“Once Agent Garcia is able to fully read in the data, we can reassess the real estate holdings. We’ll be looking for property which could be used to easily conceal the presence of children.”

When Jansen had told you how his plant was paid, you’d had the bone chilling realization that your late night excursions over a month and a half ago had not been a mere coincidence. What you’d feared had come to fruition. The smell of smoke still lingers in your brain.

“Who do you think it is?” Rossi asks as you toss his wallet back to him.

“Alexander Pierce. He’s the only one that fits the profile of a child molester.”

McKinney appears beyond shocked. Pierce was at the level directly below him. He’s the favorite to take the reins of the entire Bureau in the upcoming decade. They’ve worked together for years and are at least friendly. Yet, he doesn’t question you. He doesn’t tell you that you might be wrong. Instead, he turns resolutely towards Rossi.

“Dave, due to the changed circumstances, I ask that you oversee the investigation and if warranted, subsequent arrest of Agent Pierce.”

Rossi nods, so McKinney continues as he sweeps up his files from the table and stands, buttoning his jacket as he does, effectively drawing your indictment to a close.

“Agent Easter, I will be speaking with the Interpol Director regarding your actions and composure on this assignment. I believe the three of us will have much to discuss together. Agent L/N, you have the entirety of the BAU, with Agent Rossi, to assist you in closing this out. Ideally, the two of us will sit down on Monday and discuss your role in all of this as well, beginning with the disclosure of classified information to outside parties without requisite clearance.”

You sigh internally, squeezing Aaron’s hand once more as he opens his mouth to likely speak up against McKinney still trying to read you the riot act. You’d expected as much. He wasn’t the type to let that slide – especially not with you rubbing his nose in Richards calling you directly.

"Yes sir," you nod.

Having said all he had to say, all of you watch as McKinney takes his leave with a sweep of the room, the door shutting behind him.

*------------*

In McKinney’s wake, everyone looks at Easter, who appears incredibly uncomfortable and looked to be assessing whether or not he was meant to stay. He seemed to have reached a conclusion, as he stands and makes his way towards the door.

“You know,” you speak up as Easter approaches the door, and Aaron watches as you break the man down with your gaze alone. “For someone who thinks I’m capable of any number of atrocious things, you sure didn’t seem to have a problem with pissing me off.”

Your words are said with a casual overtone as you remain seated, the perfect air of ease about you, designed to draw a rise out of Easter, who had one hand on the doorknob, having turned around at the sound of your voice.

At your words, he scoffs. “What is that supposed to be? A threat?” He raises an eyebrow at you and tilts back into his quietly assured self.

Your lips purse ever so slightly and your eyes flash, before your mouth widens into a smile. The kind of smile that would have grown men running for the hills. “No. That wasn’t a threat,” you clarify, shifting to sit up straight once again. “This is. You come near me or mine again, and you will find out exactly how much I learned from my father.”

Easter looks like he’s ready to dismiss your threats, rolling his eyes and turning around.

“Передай от меня привет Даниэлю.”

He turns sharply, his face paling at whatever you’d said to him. His eyes search yours for any doubt, any hesitation. He appears to have seen the staunch truth in them, as he only swallows, his Adam’s apple protruding, and if Aaron wasn’t mistaken there was a slight tremor in his hand as he once again opens the door, and this time, manages to exit the room.

You close your eyes, your shoulder slumping, a deep sigh workings its way through your body. When you open them, all eyes are on you.

“Pen, once the files are available, you’ll want to start with Pierce’s properties in the countryside,” you instruct softly. “Anderson is already watching him,” your eyes cut to Aaron and he realizes who that phone call you’d made earlier had been to. You had asked Anderson to go and watch Pierce while you dealt with Easter and McKinney, knowing you needed to reestablish your credibility with the Director before you could make any accusations of your own.

Garcia nods and the rest of them remain silent as you turn to Rossi. “Can I have twenty minutes?” you ask, the fullness of your voice hinting at just how exhausted you must be.

At Rossi’s nod, you push up from the table, and with a squeeze to John’s shoulder, make your way out of the room with Aaron at your heels. He knew to go with you. You didn’t have to ask. Not with him.

*------------*

As the team watches you and Hotch leave, Morgan turns to Emily, eyebrow raised. “That was Russian, wasn’t it?”

She nods, however Hawthorne also agrees with a quiet Yes.

At that, her eyebrows raised at him in some surprise. He was a New York State District Attorney. Language skills weren’t exactly a part of the job description. “You know Russian,” she asks, the lilt in her voice hinting at her surprise.

He chuckles, a smirk on his face as he looks up at her with those ocean blue eyes, amusement dancing in them. “Who do you think taught her?” All at once, Emily can entirely see how you and him had once worked so very well together. It had been clear since the moment they'd entered the room, Hawthorne wrapping you up in his arms. There was a quiet electricity to your interactions with him – a palpable connection which easily transcended everything else. There was a casual ease to your demeanor with Hawthorne that you and Hotch rarely allowed yourselves while at work, and Emily has to once again admire how well Hotch had maintained himself throughout the entirety of the meeting. He'd allowed you and Hawthorne the lead in retaliation against Clyde, knowing that drawing any additional attention to you and him wouldn't help your case. He'd bided his time, biting back any number of choice words he must've had for Clyde, letting you take the reins on it all, because it was your meeting, your case, your indictment. Anything she might have believed about Hotch when it came to him being controlling and overbearing had fallen apart, having witnessed exactly how well he took a backseat when it was important for you that he do so.

“So what did she say to Easter,” Rossi asks, drawing both of their attention away from one another.

Emily takes it upon herself, even though she had no idea what your words had actually meant. “Say hello to Daniel for me.”

“Who’s Daniel?” Morgan asks, his brow crinkling, gaze fixed on where you’d sat next to Hawthorne.

They both shrug.

“So um,” Garcia starts, shifting everyone’s attention to her as she looks hesitantly between Rossi and Morgan, who raises his appraising look at her next, compelling her to just spit it out.

“When John and I were looking into that other location – the one that burned down with the triple homicide – I saw that the same night, three kids were left outside the Philadelphia precinct. All three were young girls around eight to ten years old and they said they were being held somewhere by bad men.”

At Emily’s prompting, she continues, “The thing is, when asked how they got away, the kids said that they heard some fighting and then some lady came and got them and dropped them off near the police station. All of their descriptions of the person who saved them...they match Y/N.”

There’s a stunned silence before Morgan decides to speak up. “Baby girl, are you saying she took down three guys all by herself, snuck those kids out, and then burned the entire place down without leaving a single strand of DNA or anything else behind?”

Garcia shrugs, an uncertain expression on her face. However, they can all tell that that is exactly what she believes happened. “If anyone could…,” she trails off as they all look at one another before turning to face Rossi.

Rossi sighs, his face torn for a momentarily, before arriving at a decision. “Well, like you said, the Philadelphia police already called it a case of gang violence and shut it down. I don't suppose it is our place to go and create problems where none exist."

At his words, Emily meets Morgan and Hawthorne’s eyes, realizing that perhaps out of everyone in the world outside of herself, Hotch, and Morgan, Hawthorne was the one most likely to understand that you could and would do exactly that, and get away with it.

*------------*

You make your way down the stairs with Aaron at your side. You just needed twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. That was it. Aaron knows not to say anything. You don’t want to talk. Not then.

You make your way down to the locker rooms before you turn and speak. “You mentioned you’d brought my other bag.”

“Yeah, it’s in my locker,” he confirms, watching you with apprehensive, yet loving eyes.

There was no one else in the locker rooms owing to the lateness of the hour. With a quick look around, you begin to take off your shoes, undoing the buckles on the boots and toeing them off, before sliding the pants off of your hips and then quickly removing the sweatshirt along with the rest of your clothing.

Aaron is quick to shuck off his own clothes as you walk into the shower and turn it all the way to the left. He can already see the steam rising off of your skin when he slips in behind you, picking up the shampoo bottle from the ledge in the corner and dumping some out into his hands.

The hot water felt like baptism by fire, but it was the only thing helping you feel clean, as two days worth of dirt and grime slid off of you and swirled its way down the drain. You can feel Aaron behind you as his bare chest rubs against your back when he leans for the shampoo and then works it into suds in your hair, allowing you to simply be.

The slip and slide of his hands, as he takes soap and scrubs against your skin. His large hands gliding against your shoulders and back, down your legs, making sure to get every inch of you clean. You let him. You can feel the exhaustion seeping through you as your mind slips into a fog, leaving you aware only of the heat of the steam, the water, and him.

Once Aaron has ensured that you’re as clean as can be, he shifts so you’re fully under the stream, the last of the shampoo leaving your hair. That’s when you finally feel the weight in the pit of your stomach turn to lead.

You allow that steel trap to open ever so slightly as you lean back against him. The fact that he'd had to see you go through that, had to find out from a video of you being tortured, that you'd been pregnant and lost the baby. It was far too much for him to have gone through on his own. Your heart breaks at the thought of him sitting with the rest of them and watching that. Having them all find out at the same time as him, when he should've been the first and only one to know.

Your tears mingle with the water from the shower, your shoulders shake and your body quakes and slumps, held up by his arms alone, holding you tight across your chest and waist, tight to him as the sobs wrack your body. You can feel his lips against your shoulder as he dips his head down to slot his face against yours. He’s hard and warm and all around you, the only thing standing between you and total collapse.

*------------*

The two of you had gotten dressed slowly, taking far longer than the twenty minutes you’d asked Rossi for. Your eyes are red rimmed and glassy still, your hair falling to your shoulders in damp tendrils as you grasp his hand and the two of you make your way back upstairs using the elevators.

“There’s a chance McKinney still fires me,” you mumble, leaned against him and the back of the Elevator wall both to hold yourself up.

Aaron shakes his head, looking down at you with his warm brown eyes. “He isn’t going to fire you,” he insists, despite not fully believing it himself. He too had caught what McKinney had said to you prior to his departure.

You aren’t appeased by his words, but he hadn’t expected you to be. The elevator continues to climb back up the floors slowly. Right before it reaches its destination, you worm your way away from him and hit the emergency stop button, halting the elevator and plunging it into darkness.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, feeling his way around the elevator until he finds you again.

“If I’m getting fired on Monday,” you whisper, leaning up so your mouth is right against his ear, drawing a shiver through his entire body, “then there’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

With that, your lips find his, insistent and soft, begging his open with your tongue running along the seam of his mouth. With a moan, he gives in, hands finding your waist and pulling you up further against him. He can feel the smile in your mouth, mixed with everything else – the fear and fury, the regret and pain undercutting everything else.

If this is what you wanted before you were potentially fired – then well, of course he’d give it to you.

*------------*

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room, the team is well situated, with Rossi and Morgan engaged in conversation while the rest of them crowd around Garcia. John was in the corner, just getting off of a phone call and Reid had managed to find some pretzels it seemed like – or he merely always had them on him – because he was munching away, leading to Aaron becoming incredibly aware that none of them had eaten since that sandwich the day prior. Hell, he wasn’t sure when the last time you’d eaten at all. His eyes must’ve lingered on the pretzels for a while too long, because JJ had leaned into her bag and lobbed a package of chips towards him.

Aware of your return now, the team turns to you and Aaron, with John being the one to break the silence with a soft smile. “Mom says hi” he says quietly, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Aaron can see the flash of guilt in your eyes. "I'll call her," you promise. When you'd left John, he hadn't been the only one you'd left.

He smiles and nods. "She'd like that."

With a glance around, and with no one else saying anything else, he continues, his smile morphing into a wicked grin. "So, you and Hastings, huh?" His voice teasing in that manner that only truly good old friends can get away with.

"Matthew and I were on a break," you clarify primly, shoving at his arm. His grin remains unchanged, causing your eyes to narrow, before a realization seems to hit you as you groan and slump back into your chair. “Don’t tell me you and Julian had a bet on that too,” you grumble, though Aaron can tell you aren’t really annoyed. You’re merely playing along.

“I won, if you must know,” John grins wider. “Seeing as you’re his next of kin, you owe me twenty.”

You scoff. “This better be written down somewhere. I’m not signing off twenty thousand to you just because you said so.”

Behind John, Aaron can see Morgan and Garcia’s jaws drop as they realize that twenty dollar bets were not the norm in your circles. You played for much higher stakes. Always had.

“Oh you’ll get your proof,” John winks at Prentiss, hinting at some sort of inside joke between the two of them while you and him both settle in, you stealing some chips from the bag in his hands, before swiping the bag entirely with a sweet smile that he was in no condition to refuse, ever.

“Hey,” Prentiss asks, drawing your attention away from John, “who’s Daniel?”

Aaron watches as your face turns dark ever so slightly, your eyes hardening as you meet Prentiss’s gaze, and Aaron realizes that the quietly enunciated Danielyu that he’d caught when you’d spoken to Easter in Russian had meant something more.

“Mr. Have-No-Attachments has a son,” you tell her, your jaw tight.

They’re all quiet as your revelation sinks in. You’d brought up Easter’s son while –

“You threatened his kid?” JJ asks, slight surprise on her face as she looks at you, her eyes flashing with the concern that they all always had. Their children being dragged into danger because of their line of work.

“He threatened mine.” Your retort is quick and to the point and if Aaron was being honest, he really really didn’t care that you’d threatened a child at this moment, because you were right. He had threatened yours.

When no one says anything further, you nod at Rossi and then turn to Garcia. “Let’s get to work.”

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