#i was gonna draw something Properly but the last couple weeks got a lot more busy than anticipated |'D

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Oooooh for fluff month, do you think Liam and Fenris would be borrowing clothes? :D

oh yeah absolutely! Although Fenris is the one who does most of the stealing borrowing lmao

[the-artist-grimm]

What doctrines did the lamb choose and have they ever sacrifice someone?

Crimson Angel AU - Doctrines, Governing, Rites, and More

This is gonna be a long one! Gonna be going over Doctrines, the way the Cult is governed, and how the Sin Rites work within the lamb, Anthea's, cult!

(since world-building is fun and I got a lot of ideas-though I apologize in advance for how much this diverts a bit from in-game/how longgggg this is lol)

Also the pretty boarders are by @/lambouillet

Doctrines

Sustenance

Ritual Feast

Grass Eater (Only relied on in emergencies once farms are set up)

Ritual of Harvest

Belief in Prohibition

Afterlife

Belief in Afterlife

Ritual of Resurrection/Funeral (Anthea has both-followers can pick what they'd prefer prior)

Respect Your Elders (especially since the elder, Nona, rules the kitchen) 

Grieve the Fallen

Work and Worship

Faithful Trait

Inspire

The Glory of Construction

Holy Day

Law and Order

Ascend Follower Ritual

Wedding

Belief in Absolution

Loyalty Enforcer (Really just Anthea having someone trustworthy in charge when out crusading-if there's any issues, fights, ect. its that person's job to settle it or at least get it under control till the lamb returns. If gone for more than 3 days Anthea also has Ratau come by to assist the enforcer, though later on Narinder takes on that role) 

Possessions

Extort Tithes (Funds typically are used to obtain rare goods from the market in Pilgram's Passage, such as specialty herbs for the medical tent or kitchens, metals for the smith, specialty tools, weapons to give missionaries, that sort of thing)

Belief in Materialism (Anthea has a major focus early-on on setting up more permanent settlements) 

Ritual of Enrichment

Devotee Trait

Sacrifice

Sacrifice is something Anthea has only done once (technically twice as it was two people in one), but it was only as a last resort. When they and Narinder managed to figure out how to revive the twins, and realized that it was via properly breaking the spell which chained him as intended through the sacrifice of a devote heart, the lamb didn't want to go through with it as it went against their promise to protect those in their care.

Yet, unbeknownst to the two, the followers had been realizing something was amiss throughout the week the two were figuring it out. A pair of terroir twins, Poppy and Tristen, had been tasked by the others with spying on the two to find out what, then reported back to everyone what they overheard. From there they all debated on how to proceed, knowing the Lamb wouldn't pick a sacrifice on their own. Everything from finding heretics to trick into being devote to drawing straws was discussed, until two volunteers came forward.

The next day during sermon, an older couple stood and offered themselves as sacrifice, citing that as they never were able to bear children of their own, giving themselves so Aym and Baal could live would be the symbolic next best thing. And though Anthea repeatedly asked if they were certain, a week later the sacrifice went through. But ever since the lamb has had no interest in ever doing such a thing again.

Within the graveyard plot the Lamb set their own family's empty graves they placed two more for the couple, as their bodies were completely turned to ash and lost to the ritual.

Day to Day

Within the Cult it's run more-so akin to a village rather than a proper 'Cult'. Everyone has a job to help the community as a whole, from farming, to carpentry, mining, med-bay, kitchen, tailor, and so on. There is a statue for prayer in the town center, but it's typically just people stopping by to say a quick prayer before moving on with their day, rather than sitting before it for hours praying.

Anthea has little interest in actually running the cult as a proper cult, and instead prefers to have everyone work towards building a proper community and settlement instead (hence why they don't like the idea of making people sit around praying-there's far more productive uses of their skills/time). Everyone there has lost it all-their homes, their families, their old lives-they have nowhere to go, and the lamb remembers how they felt when their own village was destroyed. They want the cult to be a safe harbor for people who need a new home.

That leading to greater faith wasn't entirely Anthea's intention, but it proved to be an excellent means of naturally raising faith/loyalty to them. People are less likely to dissent if they actually feel cared for, and to live in a cult that felt like a breath of fresh air? Where a new life could be found, a new family, a new home? Followers follow the lamb because they know Anthea's someone who genuinely wants to help them, and they are a lot more understanding and cooperative during hardships because of that as well. Where the Bishops lead by fear which can break loyaltys the second someone stronger appears, Anthea leads with their heart, which creates a following willing to stand beside them.

Sermons are held in the morning just after breakfast and are rather peaceful, and while outside of Sunday none are mandatory, most still attend daily regardless. Anthea's sermon scripts draw inspiration from their collection of Death tomes that predated Narinder's imprisonment (which depicted him as a gentle god of death and sleep), their own faith in Narinder that'd been built over years of praying to him prior to becoming a vessel, and some of their own memories of loss without letting on just how much they still grieve. (like everyone knows the Lamb is the last of their kind. But they just don't really realize how much that fact still haunts them. It's just assumed 'oh they lost everything but they're ok now! Look, they're trying to make things right!' which...isn't great but the followers do realize Anthea's carrying more grief than they let on eventually).

Sermon is still attended daily by choice as it is this time where followers can sit and reflect on those they've lost, but then be comforted by the thought that someone kind was there to greet their loved ones in the end. Death is framed as less of something to fear, and more of a final rest-which when every day is uncertain with the Bishops still in control, is reassuring. Anthea's voice is also just nice to listen to, during sermons their voice softens into this gentle tone followers can find comfort in.

During Sunday post-sermon Townhall (which townhall is why it's mandatory), followers are invited to stand and report issues, request materials, give errands for the Lamb to run in the other areas of the Old Faith, and the Lamb in turn makes sure everyone's updated on the situation outside the cult. Very few are allowed to leave the grounds unless accompanied by the Lamb or deemed capable (such as former Bishop Disciples who can fight/Missionary Talisman Holders that are magically protected) due to the danger that lies beyond the holy grounds from heretics and monsters, and thus Anthea likes to try and keep everyone from wondering too much about what's going on. Ignorance doesn't equal bliss, and thus the lamb prefers keeping them in the know as opposed to letting what-ifs fester.

And so Anthea keeps track of things they come across while crusading, such as currently standing villages being reported back alongside destroyed ones, the status of the various areas (such as Darkwood's difficulty rising post-Leshy's fall) being given, new locations reported (such as the path to Smuggler's Sanctuary opening where a hidden night market offers rarer goods like books, various alcohols, and other less easily acquired goods) and letters are also passed out or given to the Lamb for delivery. Though couriers cannot easily travel due to the dangers out there, Pilgrim's Passage does hold a sort of mail house within its village, where people can drop off letters and pick up their own, allowing people keep in touch with or even invite relatives to join the cult.

(I like to image that there's more settlements than just the Lamb's Cult, the Bishops Cults, and the in-game map locations. At some point I wanna put together a post expanding each area's extra elements/new ones)

Sin Rites Alterations

After the crown informs the Lamb on the Sin Rites, Anthea is somewhat uncomfortable with much of their practices due to both its descriptions, and the various former Bishop Disciples reporting similar Rites as causing anything from violence, to havoc, to unrest, to just straight up chaos within their own cults when held. Sin Rites often cause followers to act in ways they typically would not by heightening, anger, lust, desire, or other things, and it doesn't really sit right with them to force that.

As such since Anthea prefers to maintain an order to their cult since that reinforces the follower's ease of mind/trust that they'll be safe, the rites are altered and broken down into their base sin elements so that the crown can still obtain sin, but without causing disorder/discomfort among the cultists.

(it also very much goes against Anthea's nature to do most of the rites, and would be out of character for them to even consider using them as-is, hence why I've modified them for Crimson Angel.)

🌸Spring Festival - Draws from Rite of Lust🌸

Sins: Pride, Lust

As a celebration of the coming of spring, the Spring Festival traditionally was seen as an event where people spent the day outside enjoying picnics in the nicer weather while watching the flowers blooming on trees.  Now, while it still is a day for that, drawing from the fertile elements of the Rite of Lust, garlands of flowers decorate the grounds and flower crowns are woven and worn by all cultists, with it becoming a bit of a trend to try and gift your crown to someone special by the end of the night as there now includes a festival dance after sunset. People dress in flowy embroidered robes to look their best as well. Throughout the night many who are of age try to confess to the person(s) they are interested in, and as the festival does line up with a lot of cultists mating seasons, it isn’t unheard of for followers to sneak off somewhere private. Anthea does however set a hard rule on that everyone is to remain decent while in public, and that anyone caught getting handsy where they shouldn't will be punished via assisting Nona in the kitchen for a week, which the threat of having to help the old lady in the kitchen scares most into behaving.

🌞Summer Solstice - Draws from Rite of Wrath🌞

Sins: Wrath, Envy, Pride

Originally only viewed as a celebration of the longest day of the year and marked via a bonfire celebration, the Summer Solstice now includes a series of games and competitions, ranging from foot-races, to archery matches, to knucklebones, to swordsmanship, and so on with other activities. Events are at first just single, but as time goes on are later divided into Kids, Teens, and Adults sections to ensure fairness. To those who win, ribbons are presented as prizes. (so think akin to school field day or the Olympics) The elements of Wrath are transformed into a more constructive competitiveness through the events, with hints of envy naturally occurring from those who lose a match. It is, however, all just for fun at the end of the day, with the ribbons simply being little pretty things to keep as opposed to anything too special. An unintentional side-effect also means that more cultists learn how to protect themselves in preparing for competing, permitting more the ability to take on errands outside the cult over time. (which, in-turn, eases Anthea's burden of being the primary person gathering supplies)

🍂Fall Festival - Draws from Gluttony of Cannibals🍂

Sins - Gluttony 

Traditionally marking the ending of the harvest season, it has few alterations. During the day everyone works to can, dry, prep, and store the harvest gathered, with the best of each crop prepared for a huge feast held in the evening to celebrate everyone’s hard work. The only addition is teams of hunters are also sent out to hunt critters (which are considered separate from the typical sentient animals) and to catch fish to bring back for the carnivores and omnivores' winter stores, which as the years go on turn from just going out on the day of, to heading out a week beforehand to return with a larger haul to dry, salt, smoke, and store. Cannibalism, is however, EXTREAMLY PROHIBITED considering how they have a perfectly good harvest.

❄️Winter Solstice - Sinners' Pride❄️

Sins - Gluttony, Greed, Sloth

Traditionally marking the shortest day of the year, it is the only festival without any alterations due to the nature of the existing traditions lining up right. All cultists are given the day off from work, allowing everyone to trade gifts and spend the day with their families, to go out into the snow, and to see the stars and northern lights as a bonfire burns in the cult’s center, which for three days after there is still no work to allow everyone rest, as it’s also one of the coldest times of year.  Trees are often decorated with candles, ornaments, and other pretty things, wreaths are hung, mistletoe hidden in the worst places just to catch others off guard, people make baked goods, ect-so think Christmas but leaning more into its Pagan origins.

🎃Bonus! Blood Moon Festival🎃

Works like in-game and occurs during a Blood Moon. Spirits appear around the cult-grounds that need to be taken care of by disciples and the Lamb, with costumes bring worn by all to help in scaring the ghosts off. As children start to be born into the Cult, they also begin a tradition of going door to door for candy to keep the kiddos busy and away from the darker areas ghosts tend to lurk in, and there's a festival with various games like pumpkin carving, apple bobbing, darts, a bonfire, and spooky story-time with Mx. Shamura in the town square. So basically Halloween.

Phew that was a lot of lore lol, but I wanted to also take the chance to explain how the Cult runs! A lot different from in-game, but again it just feels more in character for Anthea to run the cult as less than well, a cult, and more of a village.

Back when their own village was still around their family did play a huge role in it-their father Aries was the supply runner, with Anthea taking over his role once he died. That meant the lamb got used to speaking to the village leader and other elders in higher roles, so that's kinda what they're working off of. Had their village persisted, Anthea might've even joined the ranks of leadership in the village, at least in possibly training more supply runners and leading them on trips.

A thousand years plus of the Bishops rule which especially worsened post-Narinder's imprisonment also had a great deal of followers done with the traditional 'cult' life. The closest thing to typical 'cult' traditions is donning specific robes for rituals or everyone having something red on their person whether it be their main garment or an accessory, but even then the robes are because it's tradition (think wearing your Sunday best) and the red is more of a personal preference cultists have out of a desire to match their leader's cloak.

[desceros]

rise donnie mating season head canons?

If you want only.

pfffft do i wanna think about rise donnie during mating season.... absurd....[tries to hide my sweaty palms]

so i go back and forth on how much turtle-brain gets activated, but regardless, donnie is a biter. (i mean. i think he's always a biter.) like, sink his teeth in to the point where it hurts, sometimes draws blood biting. and he's quite aggressive about putting you where he wants you, so if you move even a little bit, he's sinking his teeth and nails in to keep you in place.

i tend to think of it lasting about a week most times. it hits him a little slow, like he can feel it coming up on him a week or so before it's going to hit. before he had you to help him through it, it was a miserable experience. the whole time he's horny, nothing is scratching the itch properly, he just wants to get back to work. then you come into the picture, and oh, oh it's fucking incredible; there are a few little hiccups here and there i'll talk about later, but in general, he ends up really looking forward to it because afterwards he feels completely rejuvenated, like it's a new year and he's ready to go

sometimes... on my naughtier days........ i like to imagine that he's not really capable of hearing a safe word during the thick of things. and that really scares him a lot. the first couple of times, it scared you, too, just a little; but after a few seasons where you realized that hey, you're fully on board with everything he's got to offer, you talked about it and you're good to go. donnie's.... never really good to go, but he trusts you enough to know your limits.

the first time you have sex during mating season, it's still pretty normal. it's heating up in him, he's still got his brain in his skull, he's just uncomfortably horny. he tries to make it sweet bc he knows the absolute railing you're in for, and no matter how many years you go through it together or how many times you promise that you love it, he's always a little moody about how much he hurts you, and he likes to make up for it.

i headcanon donnie to be the king of giving head (helloooo sensory bliss), but i think this comes and goes during his heat. like, sometimes he gets his head between your legs and he is just fuckin down there for hours. you're going to cry. good chance you'll pass out. it's gonna be so much that you're not going to be able to handle it. and sometimes he's too busy stuffing you full to do anything but pin you to the bed.

most of the time, during his heat, he's got you face-down and fucking you from behind. it's how turtles do it, and that's what his little brain likes. though one time, very memorably, he missed his heat sneaking up on him and you started in a pool. somehow you managed not to drown, but the tumbling underwater with your boyfriend's dick what felt like up to your throat was a pretty great experience.

donnie is always noisy in bed. during his heat this continues, but he talks a lot more about breeding you. you ask him, once, afterwards if he has a kink and wants to explore it outside of his season; and he says no, not really, but something about the hormones in his brain just scream that he's gotta fertilize your eggs.

i picture donnie as a switch, but i think during his mating season that's out of the picture. he's fucking you, period. you're not going to be on top. you're not going to eat him out. he's going to be putting his dick inside of you, and that's where his come is gonna go. no eating it, no painting it anywhere, just inside.

after he puts his dick away for the last time and gets his brain back between his ears, the first thing he does is check and see how badly he's fucked you up. he bandages any wounds you haven't already tended to yourself, gives you a full body massage to work out the kinks of where he bent you in all kinds of funny positions, and then the two of you have a ritual where you take a bath together. it's really tender and sweet, and you scrub each other down and talk about what happened, what you liked, what you didn't like. then, while he goes off to get some food for the both of you (because he doesn't want you to leave his room where his brothers can smell you), you change the sheets on the bed, and after a quick snack the two of you collapse and pass out for like. twelve hours

[trainingdummyrabbit]

Hey, I know you're a Projmoon fan, I guess I'm curious because I'm at an impasse on what to do rn, did you play through the entirety of Lobotomy Corporation, did you just skip it entirely for Ruina, or did you read a summary/watch a cutscene compilation or let's play/something else? And what would you recommend as an approach? I've tried playing through Lobcorp but it's just extremely tedious and I'm considering skipping it to get to something I think I'll like more (Ruina)

oh!! ok my answer is a little bit complicated tbh; bc i havent. played any of the series at all. WAHAHA

what i personally did was um. attempt to watch an incomplete lobcorp lp ==> couple months radio silence ==> watched one (1) day of gameplay from a friend (for one boss fight specifically) ==> got recc'd summaries i slowly watched thru ==> couple months radio silence. ==> watched someone else's (actually complete) lp ==> (rabbit hole'd) summaries again.

um. dont do that. JSNBGKHDBK

im not gonna act like i Know how t tackle a series like this (since it took me like 4 circles around to Actually Commit to it (and also im kind of. new. here)) BUT from my personal opinion of the series and how it carries itself, i CAN recc at least Some order of something.

TRY to play Lobcorp! which i can kinda see is already done on your end. its something i Super want to try but absolutely know i wont finish SKJFNKDJF;; the main draw of PLAYING lobcorp is the struggle. it Sucks! its Long and Tedious and the game HATES you... and that's the point! it's plot relevant. it's an experience i didnt get to feel, but can so painfully just Understand by merit of watching someone else do it, only skipping about occasionally. tl;dr: the game loop is Telling A Story, Dragging You In-- THAT is the draw in insisting folks play it. it genuinely makes the... everything... hit that much harder. Once youve given it your best, dont feel ashamed to look for someone who's Done It! (i hear a lot of folks havent completed lobcorp themselves, so ✌) DONT UM . SKIP IT COMPLETELY THOUGH ruina is literally a Direct Sequel to it. i think it does a good enough job at introducing the setting on its own, but i am GRABBING YOU this shit will hit fucking DIFFERENT if you Understand. also its a lovely game worth looking at and appreciating bc GOD what a fucking experience those last few days are. i do not cry that easily to stuff like this but OUGH. AUGH. H

Wonderlab??? its a webcomic thats heavily reccommended you read through, but due to um. circumstances . it doesnt seem t be feasible atm. however, there IS a synopsis up thats pretty darn good! wonderlab, iirc, isn't directly plot relevant, but DOES introduce certain important concepts for ruina. however, it's not Mandatory, as ruina Also explains these things. as far as i know, its just a fun lil kickass story in the universe taking place between series you can look at if you want :)

Play Ruina! or watch, i guess. again, i watched an lp and it kicked the shit out of me emotionally (affectionate) so honestly do what you will here, i suppose.

honestly though, these are both super fucking long-ass and ridiculously heavy games so you're probably gonna be here a while. it took me like two weeks of committed watch time t look into Properly, and that was even when i started skipping straight to cutscenes at the latter half. embrace that! i cant stop you, but id heavily reccommend at the very least watching through the gameplay loop for a good chunk of the time-- giving the story that space really hammers home the... Everything. heavily heavily recc letting it Have that space.

for ruina specifically though, definitely at least watch through the beginning and ending legs of every fight-- and at least a solid chunk of every boss fight. if you're intent on skipping round gameplay loops like i did, imean. watch the boss fights watch the boss fights these fuckers do NOT play around. i cannot applaud these games' soundtracks enough and i wont say anything but trust me trust me trust me.

ANYWAY. here's the stuff that was recc'd to me, personally! if you wanna give watching through the series a go! :]

Lobcorp LP: [x] (Commentated+Completed! I couldn't find any no-commentary ones that were finished, but honestly for its gameplay loop it Helps. Blind on his end, but he does genuinely really like the series so i give it a thumbs up ✌) Ruina LP: [x] (Same guy :] also completed!) Lobcorp SUMMARY: [x] (Brief, but a good opener+summary!) Wonderlab SUMMARY: [x] (It Sure Is Wonderlab!!) Ruina SUMMARY: [x] [x] (Actually incomplete, but goes pretty well in depth and is easy to watch+absorb.) Alt SUMMARY: [x] (Consists of both parts of the duology! I haven't actually watched it in a while so i don't exactly remember much t say about it, but it sure is on my list!)

[hearteyesdiaz]

coming to your askbox to be totally normal about it but you're the only one with a similar opinion

why do tiny bad tattoos have Oliver in such a chokehold lol the artist for his latest is here posting healed pics after three weeks and the tattoos already look scratchy, these are going to be amorphous blobs within the year. I love the man but I hate how trendy these tattoos are

Hi anon, thanks for stopping by!

Obviously I don't know him, but I feel like Oliver (and many others) like this style for a few reasons:

As you said, it's trendy! The internet's facilitation of the increase in knowledge of and popularity of tattoos/artists/styles over the last ~15 years is really quite something, ain't it! Even as I was graduating from high school, when I spent a LOT of time consuming tattoo-related content online (but before instagram was a thing LOL), it was really common for someone who wanted to get a tattoo to just, walk into the closest tattoo studio near them and explain to the guy behind the counter what they want and hope for the best lol.

Now people can look at and share hundreds or even thousands of pictures of tattoos online via social media. And just like with makeup, clothes, etc., certain styles of tattoos have always been popular for its time amongst the tattooed crowd: Americana style with military personnel starting in the 30s, the movement away from pre-drawn designs to cater instead towards drawing customized tattoos for a client in the 70s and 80s, the increase in pop culture subject matter like Looney Toons and Disney cartoons in the 90s, and of course that thick black "tribal" style EVERYONE had in the late 90s/early 00s are just what immediately come to my mind. “Fine line/micro” tattoos have just been the hot new thing so far in this newfangled age of social media.

I'm gonna take a kind of educated guess and say this style originates from artists showing off online their ability to create such small images in the tattoo medium, because as the occupation has evolved over time so too has the tattoo equipment and techniques involved. Now it’s possible for artists to hone in and tout their skills on social media in tattooing with tiny individual needles to create these dainty smol fine line tattoos in a more democratized system of engagement and feedback.

Smaller sized tattoos can be more discreet, which a lot of people like for a lot of reasons! I think a big reason why a lot of people in Hollywood get small tattoos is to be able to hide them for work. Fandom jokes about how the make up department must hate covering them all but its actually not too big of a deal when they’re all small like his are. Much easier to cover up and blend in a dozen tattoos the size of a postage stamp than say, Ryan Guzman’s entire forearm lol

Looking back at some other posts detailing all of the tattoos that Oliver has (I’m sure you know what post I’m talking ab but I don’t necessarily want to link to their blog bc they obviously love Oli’s tattoos and I’m not trying to swerve into their lane lol), it seems like he potentially did not have the best experience with the first couple of tattoos he got. He apparently thinks his forearm tattoo is too big (I’d argue it’s too small to be properly legible but lol) and dislikes it because of that, and I can see how that could also effect what size he thinks his tattoos should be.

((AND LISTEN!!!! To anyone who might be reading this rn and getting upset with me, I am NOT saying small tattoos can’t look good!! But rule of thumb: the smaller the tattoo, the simpler the design needs to be for legibility and longevity’s sake!))

I’ve already made a post explaining some of my issues with this (comparatively) new style so I won’t repeat myself here, but I will piggy back off a point you made: “posting healed pics after three weeks” because those tattoos may be healed but they are not settled into the skin. I would encourage anyone wanting to get this style of tattoo to really, really, really look  (you may find it difficult to find healed photos from some of these artists. huh! weird!!!) for healed photos from an artist you are considering getting work from. I’m talking at least a full year (which even still is nothing relatively speaking but it IS a newer style so) because I see SOOOO MANY fine line tattoos that did not have enough ink deposited into the skin during application and they just fall out so so quickly as a result.

Also LOLing over this apprentice already working on skin when they apparently can’t control their machine correctly enough to draw straight even-thickness lines ALL WHILE CHARGING CLIENTS $400+?? please be serious the mediocrity here is truly astounding

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour (PART FOUR)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Taglist:  @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic  mrsbarnes-rogers  luosymekawa  linzeyzarcone  forgetthisbull   calamityreads  talgra 

Warnings: this one takes a darker turn; trigger warnings for kidnapping, drugged, threats/slight violence, Hydra, angst

Note: this is over 6000 words, enjoy!! x

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

A few weeks had passed since you first saw colour; a few weeks have passed since you and Steve talked through everything and made peace with Bucky Barnes being your soulmate which mean a few weeks have passed since you last saw or spoke to Bucky Barnes. After your 3am phone call, you hadn’t seen him. You’d told Steve about the phone call when you were both awake the next morning, telling him as much of the conversation as you could remember. He seemed fine with it, knowing about Bucky’s nightmares and erratic sleeping schedule. In fact, he appreciated the gesture that Bucky reached out to ask what you were comfortable with. What Steve appreciated more though was your honesty and the fact you were straight with Bucky and told him that you and Steve were happy together and nothing would change that.

Everything was fine with you and Steve, every issue had been ironed out and in fact, the two of you had never been closer. You were truly grateful for Steve’s forgiveness and now, the guilt had almost fully disappeared. He had helped you to heal that wound and you had helped to heal his wounds with trust; you had proved yourself to be honest and that it was just one slip up. 

Life had been good those few weeks, you spent more time with Nat and got to know about her budding relationship with Bruce. You’d seen the team a bit more than usual as well. No one else - besides Nat and Sam - knew about the soulmate fiasco and truthfully, it wasn’t their business to know anyway. Bucky hadn’t been around much, he’d called Steve a couple of times just to say that he was doing his own thing for a while as per your wishes. Steve was thankful to Bucky for providing that space even if it meant he had only seen his best friend a handful of times since he returned from Wakanda.

Things were good. Until they weren’t.

Steve and the some of the team got dragged to a mission across the country. It was a big one; Hydra were back and trying to infiltrate the systems. Brock Rumlow, or Crossbones as he referred to himself now, was after Steve and he wouldn’t stop until he got him. You didn’t really know what was happening with the mission, Steve was never allowed to tell you a lot about the missions, you just knew that it was a big one and it was dangerous. You hated when Steve was away on a mission; you hated the not knowing part of it all but you supposed it’s what you deserved for falling in love with Captain America.

You didn’t know how serious it was until you had been bringing the groceries into yours and Steve’s apartment and saw four men - three very large, hulking brutes of men - waiting for you. The scream that rose in your throat never found its way out before a gloved hand was forced over your mouth, holding a rag with something strong smelling over your mouth and nose. Brock Rumlow had you pinned in his arms, forcing you to breathe in the chemicals. You tried to fight against him as the fear radiated through your body, trying to put some of those self defence techniques that Natasha had taught you to good use but he was too strong and everything felt fuzzy around the edges. Your eyes were wide as you struggled, trying to escape, trying to scream; trying to do anything that would help to save you. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage and you could feel the panic set in when your vision began to blur. You could see the three men approach, weapons in hand but a gruff voice in your ear said, “Stop struggling and we won’t hurt you.” Whether you wanted to stop struggling or not wasn’t up to you but instead, the choice had been taken away and given to the substance that you were breathing in. As the darkness crept in, you heard a faint voice say, “Get Rogers on the phone now.”

Flashes of light, snippets of sound and quick seconds of vision was what you experienced for a few hours as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t until a loud bang erupted a few rooms away that you really began to come back to life. Squinting in the low light, you blinked hard, trying to focus on something to figure out where you were. Wherever you were, it was dark and dim and it smelled faintly of the explosion of fireworks on the 5th of November.

You weren’t hurt, your neck ached from the position you’d been in for what you could only assume was the last few hours. You went to move when you realised that your hands and feet were bound. That’s when you really began to wake up. What the fuck? Your memory was hazy but you remembered Rumlow and his goons in your apartment. You pulled at your hands, trying to get loose but the bonds that tied your hands were too tight. Squinting, you looked around the room, it was dark, with a metal door and a few wooden boxes in the corner. You were sitting on a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs of it. 

Your mind thought of Steve, oh god, Steve. You knew this had been Rumlow’s doing, what if he had gotten to Steve? What if- what if he- No. You couldn’t think like that. Steve had been on a mission states away from you. Rumlow had come to you because he obviously couldn’t get to Steve, he was drawing Steve out and you were the bait. Steve’s going to find you, (y/n). He said he’ll always protect you and he’ll keep that promise.

The more you panicked, the more you began to struggle; trying to break free of the ropes. Your breathing was quick and ragged as you struggled, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. Tears welled in your eyes as your mind raced with the horrors of what was going to happen to you. You froze when you could hear grunting outside, it sounded close.

Fear kicked you hard in the stomach, making you feel light headed and nauseous. You’d never been this terrified before. You thought that the most you could be scared was that time a spider ran across the bed when Steve was in a shower and you had to deal with getting it out of the apartment but no, tied to a chair after being drugged and kidnapped with explosions and not knowing what the fuck was going on... yeah, that’s a whole new level of fear. You tried to slow your breathing as you strained to listen to the commotion outside of the room you occupied. You could hear grunts and what sounded like punches before the metal door of the room was thrown open and there stood Sam Wilson. A sob got caught in your throat as you saw him.

He pressed his earpiece as he rushed to you, kneeling to help untie you, “I got her, Steve. Second floor, take a right, fifth door down. She’s okay.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed as relief flooded your senses, “Oh my god, Sam!”

Sam murmured words of comfort as he worked on the ropes that bounded you to the chair, “It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. We’ve got you now.”

He managed to get the last one untied when Steve ran into the room. He wore his Captain America gear sans the mask and carried the shield. As soon as he saw you, he tossed his shield to the side and rushed to your aid. Sam stepped to the side, picking up the shield and playing around with it as he allowed you two a moment to reunite. He was muttering about how the shield was much lighter than it looked.

“Steve,” you whimpered, throwing your arms around your boyfriend and allowing him to pull you up. He held you tightly, breathing heavy into your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry to interrupt but we gotta move,” Sam said after a minute, “before we get any more company.”

“Are you okay to walk?” Steve asks you, pulling you back to look at you, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Tired but I can make it.”

The three of you hurry out, Steve tells you not to look at the bodies on the floor but you do and you instantly regret it. “Are they-”

“Knocked out,” Sam says, answering your question before you finish it, “but won’t be for long so we gotta hurry.”

Everything’s a bit of a blur as Steve and Sam usher you out, careful to take you the safest and quickest path. You feel queasy after seeing the blood and the carnage of the few HYDRA men so your eyes are trained to the ground until Steve has you safe and sitting in the quinjet. 

Steve doesn’t let go of you, always touching or holding onto you in some way or another. You’re silent as Sam begins to fly the jet. Steve’s talking to you but you can’t focus on anything other than his hand in yours, “I’m tired,” you whisper, “I’m so tired.” You lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and darkness quickly encapsulates you.

You gasp awake, jolting upwards, “Whoa, (y/n), it’s okay!” A voice says quickly, “You’re okay, you’re safe remember. It’s Steve, sweetheart; it’s Steve. Look at me, (y/n).”

Your mind whirs, the tendrils of the nightmare still creeping around in your brain. Hands on your face force your eyes to stop fleeting from wall to wall and instead focus on the person in front of you. Steve stares at you, telling you that everything’s okay and that you’re safe now. Steve’s hands are on either side of your face as he makes you look at him. You blink hard, as your eyes struggle to focus on him. You hear the rapid beeping of the machine and you register that it’s your measuring your heartrate. His face finally sharpens and you can see him properly now.

“Slow breath in, sweetheart. You’re safe, I promise you. Copy me.” Steve takes a deep breath and you follow suit, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Steve repeats to you that you’re in hospital and you’re safe, “No one can hurt you in here.”

You look away from him after a few seconds to look around you and sure enough, you are in hospital. The walls are pure white, too white and you’re in the hospital bed, “How did I get here?”

“We got you and you passed out again, I took you here just to make sure that whatever drug they gave you was out of your system. It’s leaving so you’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He brushes your hair back, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t ever want to be an Avenger, I know that’s for damn sure,” you mutter as you close your eyes and fall back against the pillows, “How you guys deal with the fear is beyond me.”

Steve smiles but it’s sad. You open one eye, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. You get some rest and I’ll be right here, (y/n). I’m not going anywhere. Doctors want to keep you in overnight just to make sure it’s all out your system, okay? I’m going to wait by your side all night and don’t worry, we have agents at every door in the hospital.”

“Rumlow?” You asked him, voice trembling, “Where’s he?” 

“SHIELD are closing in on him, sweetheart,” he sighs, stroking your hair back gently, “Don’t worry... He can’t get you in here.”

As Steve looked over you as you slept, Sam came into the room, “Coffee delivery.” Steve sipped at the hot coffee happily, “How is she?”

“Had a nightmare about it but she’s okay. She’s scared.” Steve’s eyes were trained on you as though we were watching a newborn infant to check its breathing, “God, what if we hadn’t found her in time?”

“But we did and we got her out. She’s safe, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “But for how long?” He asked as he rubbed his face tiredly with one hand, “How long before Rumlow or HYDRA or someone else targets (y/n) to get to me?”

Sam swallows, “What are you thinking then?”

“She has to go somewhere safe, somewhere away from the chaos and the danger.”

“How long?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know... At least until we know all of Rumlow and his men are locked up.”

“You’ll go with her?”

It’s a big decision and he knows that you should be involved in it but he knows exactly what you’ll say; you’ll say that you want to stay with him and stay by his side even if it means living in terror of every bump in the night. He had been reckless, Steve had thought he was untouchable, he thought that you would’ve been safe but Steve underestimated the lengths these sorts of guys go to in order to win.

He shakes his head, hating the decision that he’s about to make but it’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows that will protect you; it’s the only way he’s happy with you leaving, “No... but I know someone who will.”

Sam shakes his head, knowing exactly who he means and he raises his eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right? That’s a stupid decision, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve scoffs, “I wish... but... he’s strong, he’s good in a fight and I know that he’ll protect her no matter what.”

“But what if... what if they... you know?”

Steve takes a breath and releases it slowly, “Then I’ll deal with that when the time comes. I need to keep (y/n) safe and this is the only way...”

Sam’s hand is heavy on Steve’s shoulder as they watch you, “She’s not gonna like that decision.”

Steve laughs, knowing fine well that you will fight against the decision for all its worth, “Oh, yeah, I know. Probably won’t forgive me in a hurry either.” Steve stands up, “Will you watch her so I can go make a phone call? I’ll just be outside the door if you need me.”

Sam nods, taking Steve’s seat, as Steve grabs his phone from his jacket, dialling one number. He waits outside the room, just across from the two agents that Fury had placed outside of (y/n)’s hospital room 24/7.

“Steve?” He’d been sleeping, the one time Bucky Barnes is getting a decent sleep and his phone rings and wakes him. He always answers when it’s Steve though, regardless of the time or where he is.

“Hey, Buck... I need to ask you a favour.” Bucky asks what Steve needs and Steve begins to tell him, “Rumlow and HYDRA are after me. They kidnapped (y/n), she’s okay, in hospital but no injuries. She’s shaken up pretty bad and... Bucky, this is going to be a big ask.”

“Whatever you need, Steve, I’ll do.” He’s sitting, tugging a shirt on with one arm,  “What do you need?” Bucky Barnes would go to the ends of the Earth for Steve Rogers and he knows that whatever Steve needs, it’s something big.

“I need you to take her to a safe house.” Bucky freezes, he had expected Steve to ask him to come help for extra protection or something like that but this... this is huge, “I need you to take her. I don’t know how long for, a few weeks maybe months? No one else, it can only be you.”

“But... Steve...” He doesn’t say much but Steve knows what he’s saying. But Steve, I’m your girlfriend’s soulmate and you’re asking for me to take her into a secluded house alone? Just the two of us for god knows how long? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Steve sighs heavily, “I know, Buck.” His tone almost sounds defeated, “I know... We were finally back on track and the universe hits out with this... I just need her to be safe, Buck, regardless of who he soulmate is or who she ends up falling in love with; I want her to be happy and I want her to be safe.”

“Why can’t you go?”

“They’re after me, I can’t let you or Sam or the team pick up my mess. I have to deal with it. That’s why I need you to go with her. You’re just as strong as me and... I know that you’ll keep her safe. I know that whatever happens, you’ll do everything you can to protect her... I need you to take her until we have Hydra locked up.”

Bucky licks his lips as he thinks about it. He doesn’t really know how to feel about it but he doesn’t really have to, Steve needs him and he’d follow that scrawny kid into the depths of hell if it mean he’d be helping him, “Okay, I’ll help. I’ll need a few days to find a safe house and get it prepped then I’ll fly out, okay?” He agrees to Steve’s ask though he has a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all of this won’t go to plan. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, “You can’t tell me or anyone else where you’re going or where you’re taking her. I probably won’t be able to contact you so-” I’m leaving you with my girl alone with no contact from me or the team for weeks or months potentially, “- you gotta keep her safe. I’ve got some cash together for you to buy everything with that so you’re untraceable. Fury’s giving us more cash since we don’t know how long you’ll be away for.”

Bucky swears on his own life that he’d protect you with everything he has. Before Steve hangs up, Bucky says, “Steve, I just want you to know that no matter what happens... no matter what feelings arise... I won’t- I won’t do anything, I won’t act on anything, I won’t try and do anything about them...”

It’s the reassurance Steve needs and he feels a lot lighter now that Bucky’s said that. He smiles as he release a long breath, “I know you won’t, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” Steve hangs up and walks back into the hospital room where Sam has Marvin Gaye playing quietly on his phone, “Do you just play Marvin Gaye to anyone in a hospital?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “It was too quiet, man! How did it go?”

“He’s onboard.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, “You sure this is what you want? You know that I could take her or you could and I could hold the fort?”

Steve sighs, “It has to be him.” He shrugs, “I... I can only hope that nothing happens but god knows... All I know is that she’ll be okay with him.” The pair look over you as Steve’s thoughts swirl. This might be one of the last times you’re together in a romantic sense, he doesn’t know if you’ll come back loving Bucky or hating him and it makes him feel sick at the thought but he’s okay with it. He wants you to be happy and if that means it’s with Buck, then so be it.

“Absolutely not.”

“(y/n), come on-”

“No, Steve!” Your voice is raising due to the sheer stupidity of his request, “You’re saying that because you’re being targeted that means I’m a target too, I understand that, but what I don’t understand is why you’re asking me to go live in a safe house with Bucky for god knows how long! He’s my soulmate, Steve, I- I can’t.”

“The plans have already been made.”

“Then unmake them!” You’re angry and he gets it and to be honest, he doesn’t want this to happen either but it has to. He’d told you the next morning when the drugs were completely out of your system. Sam was back at the apartment checking for bugs, just in case Rumlow’s gang planted some when they were in and then he’d take you back to the apartment for you to pack a bag, “I’m not going Steve.”

“Yes, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a furrowed brow. He understands that you’re an adult who can decide their own fate but Steve is choosing this one for you, “You might not understand right now but when you come out the other end of this safe then I hope you’ll understand then.”

You shake your head as tears threaten to fall. You’re angry at Steve, that he made this decision and you knew you would be going no matter what fight you put up. It annoyed you, made you feel small and made you feel like a child who couldn’t make their own decisions, “Not without you, Steve. Why can’t it be you?”

“I’m trying to keep the fight away from you,” he says softly, hand on top of yours, “Bucky’s the only way you’ll be kept safe.” Silence falls for a moment before he speaks again, “I know what this means. I know what this could mean for... for us. I know that you could come back in love with Bucky and he for you. I know that you could come back and break up with me on the spot... That’s a risk I am willing to take.”

You shake your head, “No,” you whisper, “I’m not willing to take that risk, Steve.” You could trust yourself, that wasn’t the issue. You knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your relationship with Steve. But... you and Bucky were soulmates and that had to be for a reason and it worried you that being alone with him for an unlimited amount of time would cause something to stir. You trusted yourself not to cheat on Steve but you didn’t trust your heart not to hurt Steve.

Steve crouched down beside the hospital bed and lifted your hand to his lips, “I know, sweetheart,” tears burned at his own eyes as he spoke to you, “I know the risk. I know that you could come back and we could break up instantly and if you want, we could break up right now so that whatever happens, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it-”

You swung your legs out of the bed, throwing your arms around him, “No,” you wept sadly into his shoulder, “that’s the last thing I want.”

He held you tightly, knowing that this very well could be one of the last times that the two of you had together in a relationship, “I’m doing this because I want to protect you, (y/n)… Bucky can protect you.”

“I-I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. My god, how you loved him. He had changed your life, brought so much joy and happiness to it, “No matter what, I love you.” The two of you stayed like that for a long time, just needing to feel each other and needing to be with each other because... who knew what would happen over the course of the next few months?

With doctors granting you permission to leave the hospital and after having Sam debug the apartment, Steve took you home for your last night with him. The car ride to the apartment was quiet and your hand never left Steve’s as he drove you both home. You had relented with the decision, knowing full well that regardless of whether you said yes or no to leaving with Bucky, you would be going anyway. You and Steve had talked things over, about Steve’s duty to the job and to taking down Hydra, about Bucky and how he wasn’t going to overstep a line with you or anything like that. The pair of you spoke about the non-existent contact you’d have.

“Hopefully it won’t be too long,” Steve said, “maybe just a few weeks but these days, Hydra is everywhere and nowhere all in the one, it could be months. Bucky managed to find a safe house relatively quick. For obvious reasons, I don’t know where it is or what continent it’s on but he said that it’s secluded and it’s safe. He said that it comes with minimal furniture so tomorrow morning, you’ll leave.” You squeezed his hand tightly, not wanting to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Steve glanced over at you and gave you the tiniest of smiles. He lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

When you reached the apartment complex, there were three black SUVs parked out front, Steve saw you looking, “SHIELD agents,” he told you, “We’ll have agents outside the apartment and one in each of our neighbour’s apartments.”

“Jeez,” you murmured, “I’m only here for one night, it’s like I’m a bloody Kardashian.”

Steve smiled slightly, glad to hear you make a joke, he wrapped an arm around you as you walked into the building, “Only the best for you, my love.”

You were rather apprehensive about going back into the apartment. It had been yours and Steve’s safe place and now... it seemed compromised almost. Steve seemed to pick up on your worry, “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said as he took the keys out of his pocket, “It’s been cleaned, debugged and also...” He unlocked the door to reveal red rose petals running from the front door into each room.

“Steve,” you whispered, looking at him with a smile. You walked into the apartment, hanging your coat up and kicking your shoes off. You followed the petals into the kitchen where there was a candlelit dinner waiting for the two of you.

“It’s not much but I had Nat come round and make it special since it’s our last night together.” Note; ‘last night together’ is different from ‘last night together for a while’. A pang of sadness shot through you, you leaned up to kiss him softly, whispering that you loved it.

“There’s a bath waiting for you if you want it. Some Chinese takeout if you’re hungry.”

You hugged him tightly, “Just hold me for a while.” So, the pair of you stood in the kitchen, holding each other in the dim light not knowing what would happen next. 

It was a few minutes later Steve tugged you to the kitchen table where you both sat down, “You remember our first night here?” He asked you as he handed you some take out cartons and began to eat.

You stifled a laugh, “Yeah, no electricity for three days and no hot water either!”

Steve laughed with you, taking a fork full of chow mein, “Yeah, having to eat Chinese take out on the floor with torches and candles all around us. Could’ve cried when the electricity finally turned on.”

You rolled your eyes, “You could have cried?! What the hell, Rogers? You teared up like you were watching your first born son marry!” 

The ice had been broken and the two of you could freely talk and laugh without boundaries. You both carried on as though it were a normal night, a date night with no mention As the night went on, you had a nice romantic bath as Steve cleaned the dishes and when you were finished, things ended in the bedroom.

You always loved laying on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heart and his steady breathing. Most people, if they knew it was their last night with someone would probably fuck until dawn but neither of you wanted that. You wanted nothing more than to lie with him, talking and just being there and being present. Steve wanted to hold you, wanted to tell you how much he cared and loved you and he just wanted to be with you.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “I just want you to know that this was real; this is real - that although we’re technically not soulmates, I truly believe that we are.”

Steve pulled you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I want you to know,” he said, “that no matter what feelings you start to have for Bucky, no matter how you feel towards me in the end up... I won’t blame you. I won’t expect you to love me like this on the other side. I won’t expect you to still want to be with me. I know that I’m forcing you into this situation and that kills me to do but I have to do it so whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

You look up to him as you both whisper your confessions of undying love before kissing him gently. It’s a soft kiss, full of emotion and full of such sorrow. It’s a goodbye. You would say goodbye officially tomorrow but this was the real goodbye, this was the intimate goodbye, the letting go of the intertwined hearts and this was it. The kiss soon turned more passionate and then the two of you were confessing your love in the most intimate of ways.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Natasha asked you as she sat on yours and Steve’s bed. You were in the process of packing your bags.

“I feel like I’m perpetually on the verge of tears,” you answered, as you folded some t-shirts and squeezed them into the bag, “It’s hard, you know? I understand why but my god, Nat, I hate this.”

Nat studied you carefully and you knew the question that was on her mind. What if you fall for Barnes? To be honest, it had been the question on everyone’s mind that morning.

“I’m shit scared,” you admitted to her, dropping the bag onto the bed beside her as you ran your hands through your hair, “I am terrified. I am so in love with Steve and what if I come back madly in love with Bucky? Or better yet, in love with the two of them?”

Nat stood up, placing a gentle hand on your arm, “Hey, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. You can’t stress about something that might not even happen. You have to take it day by day and if you fall for him then so be it. If you don’t, great. If you’re in love with the two of them then that’s something you and Steve have to talk about and sort out when you’re back. Don’t stress about it now.” She pulled you in for a tight hug, a very un-Nat thing to do, “Just know that I’ll be helping Steve sort out the Hydra mess, I’ll keep his ass safe and in line and hopefully it won’t be too long before you’re allowed to come home.”

“Thanks, Nat.” The two of you pulled apart, “You’ll need to keep a diary or something to update me on everything I’ll miss... especially with you and a certain Dr Banner.” You placed your phone on top of the counter, you couldn’t take it for fear of tracking so there was no point in having it. You sighed as you placed it down.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Yeah right. Let’s get this wig sorted.”

The Avengers were never too good at disguises, it usually always consisted of sunglasses and a cap so, in order to hide your identity further, Nat had brought you a wig the opposite colour, cut and style to your hair just now and some contact lenses of a different colour to your natural eye colour.

After a few minutes, you looked in the mirror, staring at someone who looked like a stranger, “Oh god, I hate it.” The top you wore wasn’t at all flattering for your body type. You tugged it down, wishing that it wasn’t quite so figure hugging. You didn’t mind things that clung to your body, you’d worked through a lot of the body issues you had but the top was a horrid colour and paired with this hair and these contacts... you didn’t feel like a Kardashian anymore. 

Nat laughed, “That means it works. Honestly, you look fine, stop worrying... Let’s go show the boys.”

You walked into the living room with your packed bags to see Sam and Steve standing talking. Steve smiled when he looked at you, “You look... interesting.”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

“I mean, it definitely works because I look at you and I don’t see (y/n), I see a complete stranger,” Sam offered.

“You ready?” Steve asked softly, taking the bags from you, “Got everything?” You nodded, murmuring a ‘think so’. He smiled and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket, “I wrote this letter this morning. I want you to read it when it’s time...” Your confused expression made him explain further, “I want you to read this letter when you start to feel things... things for Bucky. If that happens.” You took a breath, mind whirring with the possible things that could be in that letter,  “You’ll know when to read it.”

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Sam answered it to see Bucky Barnes standing wearing a cap and, you guessed it, sunglasses. He wore leather gloves to cover his metal hand and carried a bag over his shoulder. He lifted the sunglasses to look at you, “Ready?”

Oh god, it’s happening.

“I don’t want to cry because I’m scared of the contact lenses,” you whimpered as tears threatened to fall. You hugged Nat and Sam, thanking them for their help, before Steve said that he’d walk out with you both. He picked up your bags and the three of you left the apartment to the black car that was outside. Bucky packed the three bags in the trunk before hugging Steve.

You couldn’t hear what the two of them said in the brief encounter but you supposed that it would be Bucky reassuring Steve that you’d be safe and that he wouldn’t act on any feelings that may grow. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and Bucky got into the driver’s seat of the car.

Steve turned to you and wrapped you in his arms. God, you just wanted to cry. You wished that you didn’t have to go, you wished that you could just stay with him but you couldn’t. You had to leave. They’d already gotten to you once and Steve wouldn’t dare let it happen again.

“I love you,” you told him softly, “I love you so much, Steve. I-I love you.”

He held you tighter, “I love you, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll get this sorted so that you can come home to me.” You pulled back and he brushed your cheek, wiping your tear gently, “No matter what happens, it’s okay.” You hugged him again before he leaned down and kissed you softly. Bucky, who had been watching in the rear view mirror, looked away, “Goodbye, (y/n).”

“Goodbye, Steve.” He opened your car door and you slid inside.

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “Be safe.” He closed the door and Bucky started the engine, pulling out of the apartment complex. Your eyes were trained on the spot where Steve was, watching as he got smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see him anymore. It was only when he was out of sight that you allowed yourself to really break. Fuck the contact lenses, I’m too sad to care. 

Bucky glanced at you as he drove, feeling a pang of sadness for you as you wept in the seat beside him. He knew that part of the reason you were so upset was because it was him that was taking you, had he not been your soulmate you would have probably been okay but because he was your soulmate, it filled you to the brim with worry, guilt and pure sadness. All he could do was drive. Nothing he could say could help you. He reached to his side, taking a pack of tissues from the door’s compartment before handing them to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking them from him. He couldn’t do much to help but he had done enough to make you feel comforted and to make you feel as though you weren’t alone. You wiped your eyes as you stared out of the window, wondering where the next few weeks would take you.

[nix-the-cryptid]

Actions Have Consequences

Professor AU! Heisenberg x Gender Neutral! AFAB! Reader

Part three of my series

WARNING!! 18+ NSFW

Tags: Punishment, misuse of rulers, praise, on top of a desk, minor overstimulation, minor orgasm denial

Summary: Y/n ends up getting punished for some avoidable mistakes. But, it may or may not end up working out in the end.  

During class, Y/n’s mind kept going back to what Mr. Heisenberg had said about “disciplinary actions” and having to work on Y/n’s “listening skills.” If they were honest, y/n was a little nervous. Heisenberg was known for being harsh on students who didn’t follow the rules or do their work properly. Getting yelled at by him was not something you admitted to freely. But, with how their relationship was working out, y/n realized that their “punishment” may end up being a bit different.

Thinking on their relationship over the past little while had y/n thinking about a lot of stuff. Ever since that first time together, almost two weeks ago, they almost always ended up having sex after class. Not that y/n minded, of course. But was that all there was between them? What would happen when classes were done for the year? Y/n graduated this year, too, so then what? The thought of never getting to spend time with Mr. Heisenberg like that made y/n’s heart sink harder than they realized. They enjoyed Professor Heisenberg’s company and it was becoming obvious they wanted more out of the relationship. But they doubted it would go over well if they brought this up with him. Y/n doubted that Mr. Heisenberg would want to commit himself to such a relationship with a student. The pain in y/n’s gut deepened at this thought, a lump catching in their throat as they felt like wanting to cry. Y/n quickly shook their head of the thought, coming back to reality.

Apparently, the class was meant to take some notes on whatever Mr. Heisenberg had presented but, just as y/n came to, it was over, and they hadn’t written down a single thing. Chances were Mr. Heisenberg most likely noticed at some point but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten through that,” He exclaimed, grabbed his things from the desk. “Let’s head to the shop and work on those practical assignments. Maybe get them done today, yeah?” Y/n groaned as they began packing their things, noticing that there was still a whole 50 minutes left of class.  2pm simply could not come fast enough. They soon followed Mr. Heisenberg out the door and down to the lab, almost wanting to walk beside him but deciding against so as to not draw too much attention to themselves. Mr. Heisenberg was wearing a black t-shirt today, but like always, it was just a bit too tight on him. Y/n saw, just at the base of Heisenberg’s neck were some faint red marks. Squinting a bit to get a closer look, y/n soon realized that they had left those marks a couple days ago. They blushed furiously at this thought, wondering how many of the others might have noticed those marks at any point and if anyone had asked about them.

 “Hey, y/n!” One of the other students, Leon, called out. He was one of the better students in the class and was nice enough. His voice startled y/n out of their staring at Mr. Heisenberg. He and Y/n had been working together on the current assignment. “Do anything fun last night?” Y/n had to suppress a small noise at this question, a small blush forming on their face. ‘yeah, totally! I got railed by Professor Heisenberg in the shop after class!’ they thought to themselves.

 “Uh, no,” They laughed awkwardly, rubbing their neck. Leon’s face sank a bit at this. “Not really. I just went home and did some studying.” Leon just nodded. “I don’t go out much. And of course, by the time I get home and finish any work, I’m just too tired to really do anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Leon agreed. He then glanced at Professor Heisenberg for a bit before smirking. “Ya know, whoever left those scratch marks on his neck there,” He whispered to y/n making them blush deeply. “They’re one lucky fuckin bitch.”

 “Well, I’ll be sure to let them know, Leon.” Heisenberg smirked, making Leon let out a squeak of embarrassment. Y/n did their best to stifle their laughter as Heisenberg unlocked the doors to the shop, letting everyone else enter.

 “Well,” Leon exclaimed. “I can never look our Prof in the eye ever again!” y/n chuckled at this before blushing a bit more. ‘If only you knew,’ they thought. ‘If only you fucking knew.’

  “Yo, Sir!!” Another student exclaimed. “Whose car is that?!!” Y/n furrowed their brow before noticing the Cadillac at the back of the shop. ‘funny, wonder who’s that is. It kinda looks like- OH NO!’ y/n’s brows shot up and their eyes widened. That was Professor Heisenberg Series 62, uncovered meaning y/n had forgot to cover it the night before like they were supposed to. ‘shitshitshit’ They looked over to Mr. Heisenberg, who had also gone wide eyed at the sight. ‘Now I’m really in for it after class.’ Heisenberg shot them a hard glare, signaling his disappointment at the scene. However, he quickly masked it before turning to the student who had noticed it.

“Ah, that beauty?” Heisenberg sighed. “She’s all mine! Brought her to get her working again. Didn’t have the equipment needed back home.” Professor Heisenberg explained. “Bitch needed a whole new engine, practically.” Y/n could feel the jealousy building with each word. Heisenberg looked at them and must’ve noticed as his expression softened a little. Y/n then watched a number of students rush over. ‘They’re gonna ruin the paint!’ Now y/n was angry. Not just with their classmates but with themselves for not putting the cover back on. 

 “Uh sir,” A female student piped up. “There’s a dent in the hood…” y/n’s eyes went wide. They knew exactly what that dent was from. Seeing Heisenberg’s face showed that he also realized what it was from. 

 “I must’ve been so busy repairing the engine, I must not have fucking noticed!” He laughed nervously. Y/n watched as Heisenberg blushed at this, their own blush forming as they tried not to laugh.

  “Well, do you need any help with it, sir?” Leon asked.

“NO!” Heisenberg blurted out, rather fast and loud. Y/n let out a chuckle at this. “No, I’m close to being done. But you all could do better on your tests, I wouldn’t spend as much time having to mark them!” The class let out a collective groan, except for y/n. The pang of jealousy still sat heavy in their gut. And meeting Heisenberg’s gaze showed that they weren’t doing too well at hiding it. His stare was intense and dominating. Y/n lessened their pout a bit, but they were still upset with themselves over not covering the car and having everyone see it.

 ————————

 “Alright see you Monday, everyone!” Mr. Heisenberg called out as everyone got up to leave. Y/n hung back, taking their time to clean up. 

 “Hey, y/n!” Leon called out, as he threw his bag over his shoulder. “I was meant to ask you if you wanted to hang out. A few of us are getting together at my place for the afternoon.”  Y/n stammered a little, watching Professor Heisenberg pack up his own things. He glanced up, waiting for y/n’s answer. “I can give you a ride if you need. I know you walk to school and all so… It wouldn’t be any trouble.” As much as y/n knew they should socialize with their classmates, today was the absolute worst day to have been asked. They would’ve said yes but, they also didn’t want to be in anymore trouble with Mr. Heisenberg, no matter how enjoyable the punishment really would be.

        “Uh, actually,” y/n started. “I’ve got another class today, so I’ll pass.” They looked back to Heisenberg to see him give another glance before continuing packing his things. Leon must’ve noticed this because he cocked a brow at y/n.

      “I thought this was your last class,” He pondered.

        “One of my other classes had to be moved to the afternoons recently.” Y/n lied. Leon’s expression neutralized at this, meaning he accepted it.

“Oh, okay. Maybe next time.” The other student shrugged. He then headed out of the class. Y/n let out a shaky breath before they turned back to their things and finished packing, hearing Mr. Heisenberg approach. They stiffened a bit but continued what they were doing.

 “I’m disappointed, y/n,” he stated, coming to lean against y/n’s station. “First, you don’t listen before class. Then, I found out you didn’t cover the convertible?” Y/n hung their head in shame. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” They replied, keeping their head bowed but peeking up at their professor. “I completely forgot to cover the car last night.” They heard Heisenberg scoff.

“You know I was going to wait until we got back to the classroom but after this, well, shit.” Heisenberg grabbed a hold of y/n’s chin, forcing them to look at him, smirking. “It looks like we’ll just have to settle things right. Fucking. Here.” Y/n gulped, slightly nervous about what was coming. “Get in my office. Now.” Heisenberg let go y/n’s face roughly and pointed to the office. “Go on.” With that, Y/n quickly headed to the small room, Professor Heisenberg close behind. “You’re normally such a good student, too. I’m shocked that you’d let yourself slip like this.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mr. Heisenberg,” Y/n whined.

 “Apologies aren’t gonna get you out of trouble that fucking easily, y/n.” Heisenberg growled as they entered the office. He made a show of slamming the office door shut and locking it. He also closed the blinds to the door but not the other windows. “So, we need to work on those listening skills of yours.”

“How?” Y/n asked sheepishly. Heisenberg just grinned as he took a seat in his office chair and began piling the rest of his papers together on the desk.

“Well, first, you’re gonna strip.” He ordered. Y/n made quick work of their clothes, watching Professor Heisenberg clear everything off the desk. They hadn’t noticed before, but the desk was metal, which meant the cold air from the AC in the shop had chilled it, even with everything on top of it. When Heisenberg finished, he turned to y/n and simply stared for a moment, taking in their naked body. Y/n shifted slightly, keeping eye contact with their professor. “Eager to please, as always.” Mr. Heisenberg chuckled. “Bend over the desk. Now. And pass me that ruler while you’re at it.” Y/n looked to the wooden ruler hanging next to the desk. Their eyes went wide when they realized what Heisenberg was planning on doing. Y/n simply passed the ruler to the professor and slowly leaned themselves over the desk. They winced a bit at the cold metal against their skin. However, the shiver that down their spine was not from the cold. Heisenberg chuckled at this, bringing a hand to their ass and began massaging it a bit. “You know what, hands behind your back. C’mon.” Y/n complied with haste. As they did this, Heisenberg’s hand left their ass. But before y/n could make any sound to protest, they heard the sound of Heisenberg undoing his belt. Turning to see just what he was doing, Y/n watched as Mr. Heisenberg stood up, took the ruler in his teeth, and used his belt to tie y/n’s wrists together. The leather of the belt bit into their skin just a bit, making y/n hiss a bit. They then looked up at Heisenberg to see him take hold of the ruler again, smirking. “You look so fucking nice like this, y/n! Now, I want to hear you count, got it?” Y/n nodded, gulping.

“Understood, sir!” Y/n blurted out. SMACK! “AHH! ONE!!” Y/n cried out, both in pleasure and pain. The force was brutal and sent them forward a bit, which made their nipples rub against the cold metal of the desk. This intensified the pool of arousal in their gut. SMACK! “TWO!!” Y/n sobbed.

 “Ya know, maybe I should’ve let some of the other students help with the car,” Heisenberg mused, letting the ruler rest against the sore cheek. “Would’ve saved you some trouble.” He lifted the ruler up, waiting a bit.

 “But sir-“ SMACK! SMACK! “AAAHH! THREEEEEFFFFOUR!” Y/n felt tears stinging their eyes. The arousal building up from this was growing fast. SMACK! “FIVE! Fuuuccckkk!” They heard Heisenberg laugh behind them. He then grabbed their tied hands and bent over them.

 “Or would that have just pissed you off, kitten?” He growled in their ear. They whimpered as Professor Heisenberg pressed against their back, his hard cock rubbing up along their back. y/n let out a whine at the feeling. “All those students messing with your hard work, putting their fucking fingers all over the paint? I saw your face when everyone rushed over to it.” Heisenberg lifted himself back off of y/n, who groaned at the loss of contact. Suddenly, Heisenberg was rubbing the cheek slowly, as if trying to soothe the pain. “Ready to continue?” He asked, his voice somewhat gentle.

         “Yes Mr-“ SMACK! “HEISENBERG!! FUCK, SIX!!” Now he was focusing on the left cheek. The tears that had welled in y/n’s eyes fell, finally as they lurched forward from the force of the hit. SMACK! “JESUS!! SE-“ SMACK! “-VENNNNEIGHT!!!” Y/n was full on crying, the pained pleasure causing the arousal in their gut to become a bit too much. Y/n felt themselves clench around nothing, their slick just soaking their folds and the insides of their thighs. SMACK! “NINE! FFFUUUCCKK MEEEEE!!!” Y/n sobbed, feeling themselves right on the edge of their orgasm.

 “Oh?” Heisenberg purred, resting the ruler against their ass. “Is something wrong, Y/n?” Heisenberg knew exactly what was wrong. But watching y/n squirm and try to choke out an answer was too fun.

“Please sir, I’m so-“ SMACK!!! “CLLLOOSEEEFUCK!” Heisenberg slammed the ruler hard against both cheeks, with more force than the last ones. They screamed at this, so close to finishing and yet not close enough. It was almost torture. “TENNNNNNNN” Y/n sobbed, tears streaming down their face. They then heard the ruler be tossed to the side somewhere. Y/n then moved to push themselves off the desk as best they could when Mr. Heisenberg pushed their head back down. He then shoved his hand in between their legs, landing on y/n’s clit. “SIRRRRR” The screamed as he began to harshly rub the oversensitive bud. However, this only lasted a little bit, before Heisenberg pulled away. Y/n sobbed, merely wanting to come now.

 “Shit, you really did enjoy that, huh?”  Y/n could only whine in response “You did good, kitten.” He mused, untying their hands. “But we’re not done yet.” Y/n let out another whimper. “Sit up and face me.”  Y/n then braced themselves and pushed up off the desk, their legs barely able to keep them upright. They then shifted themselves around to face Professor Heisenberg. As they went to sit, the cold metal against their raw cheeks stung fiercely. They shrieked at the feeling, which then turned in to a pained whimper. “Aww, is it cold against your bruised ass? Well, you’ll just have to endure it for a bit longer.” With that, Y/n watched as Professor Heisenberg began stripping, his pace slow. It was like he was putting on a show for y/n, who could only squirm against the cold desk. “Damn, what a fucking sight you are.” He growled as he slowly removed his shirt. “I’m still reeling from Leon’s comment earlier too.” He joked. Y/n blushed as they remembering what their classmate had noticed. “Part of me, a very evil part me, wanted to implicate that it wasn’t just anyone who left those marks.” Y/n whined, squirming more. “Bet that would’ve been quite the punishment on its own.” Heisenberg slipped off his boxers, stepping out of them and approaching y/n. “Oh, you know I would never do that to you, Kitten.” He purred, moving close to y/n, leaning over them to kiss them. His hand then made its way down to y/n’s pubic mound, his fingers slipping between their folds. Y/n moaned loudly at this, bracing themselves against Mr. Heisenberg as he began to run his fingers up and down their cunt, just missing their clit. They were extremely sensitive down there, as they had yet to come still. Heisenberg made quick work of their folds and clit, rubbing fiercely. “Come for me y/n.” With that, Y/n screamed out in pure pleasure, coming hard and drenching Heisenberg’s hand in their juices. Once they had started to come down, Heisenberg gently grabbed their waist and brought them both over to the chair taking a seat, placing y/n in his lap facing him. Once they did, he gently grabbed their ass and began massaging them. “How do you feel, y/n?” He purred as y/n wrapped their arms around his neck and rested their head against his chest.

 “A bit sore,” Y/n whined slightly. "But, you seem to be in need of some relief.” Y/n purred as they attempted to push back against Heisenberg’s dick. The man groaned at this feeling, squeezing y/n’s ass a bit to keep them still. Heisenberg could see the exhaustion starting to take a hold of y/n but the feeling of their drenched cunt against his dick was hard to resist. 

 “I don’t want you to overexert yourself, Buttercup.” Heisenberg’s voice was soft as he went into kiss y/n’s neck. This made y/n hum in pleasure. “I was pretty fucking hard on you.”

 “I want to, sir.” Y/n repositioned themselves over top of him, taking a hold of his dick. They slowly lowered themselves, the slow push hitting every nerve in their cunt. Both y/n and Heisenberg. let out a long and loud moan as they sat themselves down, taking in his full length.

 “God, you feel so good, y/n” Heisenberg hissed, grabbing their waist, and gently lifting them up before pulling them back down, thrusting up a bit. Y/n gasped at the feeling, quickly wrapping their arms around Heisenberg’s neck again. Y/n then matched Heisenberg’s movements, lifting themselves up and coming back down. They felt themselves clench around his member, drawing a moan from his lips. “Fuck!” Suddenly, He grabbed Y/n’s legs and stood up. Y/n shrieked, tightening their hold on Mr. Heisenberg. He placed them back down on the desk, which was still cold, making y/n arch their back from the feeling. “Cold still?” Heisenberg joked, kissing their neck again.

 “Yesss,” Y/n hissed, trying to grind down on Heisenberg’s dick since he wasn’t moving. “Please, sir.” They whined. Heisenberg lifted his head from y/n neck and looked them in the eye before standing up and pulling y/n’s arm off. “Please fuck me.” They begged. Heisenberg smiled as he grabbed onto y/n thighs before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in hard. Y/n let out a small scream that quickly turned into a moan as Heisenberg continued slamming into them.

“Always so perfect like this,” Heisenberg grunted, squeezing y/n’s thighs tight enough where there was a slight sting. Y/n whined at the sensation, tossing their head to the side. “Oh no, look at me.” Mr. Heisenberg growled, grabbing a hold of y/n’s chin, and yanking it so they were facing him. This caused y/n to gasp, grabbing onto his wrist. “I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours while I fuck you senseless.” Y/n moaned again, quickly locking their legs around Heisenberg and bringing him closer. As they did this, he took a hold of their waist with his other hand and lifted them up, shifting the angle. This caused his thrusts to hit deeper into y/n, making the pleasure increase. “You love this, don’t you? When I fuck you like this?” He growled, leaning forward a bit and pulling y/n’s face closer.

 “Yes, sir!” Y/n moaned. Heisenberg gave a couple hard thrusts at this answer, drawing the moan out. “I love it when you fuck me, Sir!”

“That’s a good girl,” Heisenberg purred, letting out of y/n’s neck, and moving his hand down their side. “My good little kitten.” This drew another moan from Y/n, enjoying the praise. The hand that had snaked down y/n’s soon made itself known again as Heisenberg began rubbing their clit. The sudden feeling of his hand on their nub drew an incredibly loud gasp from them that then devolved into a whine, seeing as they were still somewhat sensitive there. “All the noises you make are. Just. Fucking. Perfect.” Heisenberg emphasized each of those words with a hard thrust. Y/n’s cunt then clenched hard around his length, making him moan as well, which turned into a small chuckle. “Do you like it when I praise you, Buttercup?” Y/n just nodded, unable to form a coherent enough thought to actually respond. Heisenberg just chuckled before leaning in for another kiss and picking up speed. Y/n mewled into the kiss, the sensation sending them right to the edge again. “Are you about to cum again, y/n?” Heisenberg asked softly, breaking the kiss. Y/n could only moan in response. “Well, then. Go on. Cum. But. Scream. My real name when. You do.” His hips stuttered as he spoke, making the words come out in moans. He then began thrusting even faster, bringing y/n over the edge.

“KAAAARLLL!” Y/n screamed, arching their back as they came. Heisenberg also came at this, thrusting as deep as he could and filling y/n. The warmth of his seed flooding y/n’s insides, making them moan even more. The two remained like that for several minutes as they came down and caught their breath.

“God, that was… shit” Heisenberg said, still somewhat breathless. He slowly pulled out and let go of y/n, pulling a whine from them at the loss. “Think you can stand, Buttercup?” He asked. Y/n lifted their head to look at him, nodding slightly. Heisenberg  offered his hands for them to take and use him as leverage. Y/n sat up with a groan, the feeling of Heisenberg’s seed dripping out being an odd sensation. Professor Heisenberg opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small rag, which he then used to wipe up any cum dripping down y/n’s legs. They moaned softly at the feeling, biting their lip, and crossing their arms over their chest. Once he was done, Heisenberg  sat down in the office chair, beaming at y/n. “Come ‘ere, kitten.” Y/n pushed themselves off the desk and wobbled over into Heisenberg’s lap. “You did so well. Listened to everything I asked. A+ performance.” He purred, pulling y/n close to his chest, and stroking their hair.

“Thank you, sir.” They yawned, exhaustion filling their muscles now that the adrenaline from their arousal has subsided. Heisenberg let out a small chuckle, moving his hand down y/n’s back.

 “I told you,” He started, his voice low. “Use my name.” Suddenly, y/n was wide awake. They lifted themselves off of Heisenberg’s chest to look right at him. They were wide eyed, furrowing their brow at his comment. “What’s that fuckin look for, y/n?”

 “Sir, I-“ Y/n stammered. Heisenberg just hushed them, pulling them back to his chest.

 “Shhhh,” He hummed. “Just relax.” The two of them were silent for a good bit after this. It wasn’t tense, however. Simply reveling in each other’s presence. But this time felt different. Their relationship had shifted. Whether it was a good thing or not, only time would tell. Y/n felt the full extent of the exhaustion that had been piling on them, their eyelids growing too heavy to keep open. Another yawn slipped out of them as they snuggled into Heisenberg. He placed another kiss to the top of y/n head and muttered something else they couldn’t quite catch before y/n drifted off.

-------------------------------------------

And there ya have it!! Again, if you have any requests for future chapters, feel free to leave it in my inbox!! And if you wanna be tagged for future fics, just lemme know!!

@stararch4ngell4dy @fredyria @kuronekopirate @weathur @1800shootmeplease

[glimmerglanger]

Mer!AU prompt--Cody mentioned the difference in their refractory periods in chapter six of C+T. Any chance Obi-Wan is gonna notice as well and do something about it? :D?

OHOHOHO! Obi-Wan is very considerate that way. (Spoilers: he does something about it).

This little snippet is VERY spicy. Not safe for wizards. Happy married folks really, uh, enjoying their relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan spent time considering the many differences between humans and merfolk as time passed. So many of them were obvious. Others were… less so. There were some he only got to explore when Cody was with him, when they could get close to one another, tangle together.

Learning the things that Cody liked was, very much, a pleasing endeavor. Learning the things that he would have expected from a lover of his own kind took more time, partially because it meant unlearning so much Obi-Wan had grown up accepting.

But Obi-Wan knew how to adapt and very much enjoyed learning everything possible about Cody. And so he learned that Cody wanted his touch to continue, even after orgasm raced through him. He wanted to be touched all through the aftershocks and - and beyond, ideally.

Obi-Wan picked up other information - here and there - in his new home, about different species that lived in the water. He assumed, after some reading, that perhaps the merfolk also had an actual bone in their cocks. 

It would explain a lot. Including Cody’s ability to...keep going, past the point when a human would have grown soft and over-sensitive.

Still, Cody never pushed for them to continue longer, never continued touching when Obi-Wan grabbed his hand to still him, though Obi-Wan’s reactions to orgasm must have seemed odd to him. He simply….accepted what they had, and, the one time Obi-Wan broached the subject of their couplings being, well, less than satisfying, he’d seemed genuinely befuddled.

He’d proceeded to demonstrate exactly how satisfying he found their joining, and Obi-Wan knew he’d made enough noise to carry through the water, based solely on the looks he got from his guards the next day.

So, Cody had no….complaints about their love-making. But that did not stop Obi-Wan from wanting to give him, well. Something closer to what he expected. What he was used to. At least occasionally. Obi-Wan considered his options for making such a thing happen while Cody was away, handling things in Sundari.

By the time Cody returned, he had a plan. 

Cody ever and always enjoyed having Obi-Wan’s mouth on him, and happily collapsed back against their low bed as Obi-Wan bent over him, barely exchanging initial greetings. Obi-Wan felt impatient under his skin, keyed up with desire, which was not quite his intent.

He needed to hold off his own release as long as possible, to make any of this tenable, and so he ignored the ache of his cock, sliding his mouth further down, instead. Cody panted out his name, hand brushing back over his hair, his skin tasting of salt.

Obi-Wan enjoyed the feel of each ridge sliding over his bottom lip, over and over again, enjoyed the way Cody swore, muscle tensing in his stomach and his fin. They had been apart for nearly two weeks. Obi-Wan knew it would not take long, not the first time, and slid his mouth further down, swallowing, nose brushing scales and--

Cody groaned out a warning, tugging just a little on Obi-Wan’s hair, and Obi-Wan hummed reassuringly around his cock. The vibration must have been just enough to toss Cody over the edge; he arched, cock twitching, pulsing against the top of Obi-Wan’s tongue.

Obi-Wan stayed where he was as long as possible, his eyes watering, his throat aching. He could hold his breath quite a long time, which - he’d found - had uses besides swimming. He stroked Cody’s side, breath held in his chest, and Cody rocked sinuously up off of the bed, slow rolls of his body, working his cock in Obi-Wan’s throat, the ache of it deep and sweet and--

And Obi-Wan eventually had to slide up, sucking in a breath through his nose and resisting the urge to cough, even as another wave of come spilled into his mouth, this time.

He swallowed it, the tip of Cody’s cock between his lips, keeping him there until Cody panted out, “Fuck, Obi-Wan, come here,” and grabbed at him, pulling him up to kiss him, slick with the wet smeared all over Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Cody rubbed at his cheeks, groaning against his mouth, the hard line of his cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s thigh, where Obi-Wan had intentionally tossed a leg across him. Cody reached down, fingers sliding over Obi-Wan’s stomach, and Obi-Wan caught his wrist, tugging to the side.

“What?” Cody asked, drawing back enough to blink at him. “I want to--”

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan cut in, with a smile that felt half-wild. He’d never get to what he wanted to do if Cody started touching him. He’d get distracted, overwhelmed with pleasure. That could wait, at least for a little.

“But--” Cody started, and cut off when Obi-Wan shifted, straddling him properly, scales so cool against the insides of his thighs, Cody spread out under him, the purple light pouring off of his skin lighting up the otherwise dark room around them. 

Obi-Wan ground against him, just for a moment, sending a shiver of want down his own back, leaving it pooling in his gut. It was so tempting to just continue the movement, and it had been two weeks for him, too. 

He had the brief thought that he should have - perhaps - waited to attempt this until Cody had been back a few days, until they’d burned out some of their initial wants. But he’d been impatient. And so he ignored his own aching cock, sitting up a little straighter and reaching for the oil he’d set to the side.

“I missed you,” he panted out, slicking his fingers and sliding his hand down over Cody’s cock, already wet from his mouth and throat. He ached with how much he wanted, and with the preparations he’d done, earlier.

He’d left himself so close to coming, earlier, when he was getting ready for this, stretching himself out, hoping to make himself less on edge once Cody actually arrived.

Things hadn’t quite worked out that way, but… “I miss you with every breath,” Cody told him, “hold on, I can help,” he started, sliding a hand over Obi-Wan’s hip, around to his ass, and he’d been very pleased with himself for filing down two of his nails, last time he’d visited.

Obi-Wan couldn’t think of the feeling of Cody’s fingers inside of him - only to the second knuckle, because the webbing got in the way after that - or he’d spill before they even got started. He bit his bottom lip, made a ragged sound, and sank down, hoping to distract himself.

The stretch of Cody’s cock was distracting, but it did absolutely nothing to slow down the blazing rush of want in his spine. Cody made a thick, hungry sound, both hands on Obi-Wan’s hips now, squeezing as he rasped out, “You--fuck--you got ready? Ready for me?”

“I was knowing you were going to be here,” Obi-Wan managed to answer, a smile on his mouth as he considered the hunger in Cody’s expression, wondering why Cody seemed to like that information so much. “I did not wanting to wait.”

Cody’s eyes were so wide and so dark as he panted out, “I won’t make you wait, then,” and arched up, driving his cock the rest of the way inside, Obi-Wan crying out at the feel of him, half-falling forward, catching himself on his hands. 

Cody no longer had to worry about hurting his stomach or agitating wounds when they were together. He moved beneath Obi-Wan, and it took Obi-Wan a dizzy moment to even think about meeting his movements.

First, he had to reach a hand down and squeeze the base of his cock, because just the feel of it after so long….

“You’re not stroking yourself,” Cody said, ragged, his gaze down by Obi-Wan’s cock, by his unmoving hand, and Obi-Wan jerked out a nod, unable to find words at the moment. “I’ll help you,” Cody added, sliding a hand over, and Obi-Wan made a rough sound.

“Not yet,” he managed to pant out, wrestling for control and managing some measure of it after a moment. Cody blinked up at him, expression questioning, and Obi-Wan added, “I want. To wait. A while longer.”

Cody opened his mouth and shut it again on a groan when Obi-Wan felt controlled enough to rise up, to sink down on him, and, oh, he felt so good. 

At least, in this position, Obi-Wan could avoid direct stimulation of his prostate. But it was still so good, having Cody in him after so long denied. He was so painfully aware of his aching cock, of the need, and he could feel himself losing his rhythm, distracted and wanting and--

And it was not much of a surprise when Cody wrapped an arm around him and rolled them, rasping, “Let me, I’ve got you,” and oh, changing the angle and fucking into him. Obi-Wan groaned, wordless as Cody hooked an arm under one of his knees, hitching his leg up.

Obi-Wan had meant not to come yet. He really had, but the position dragged his cock against Cody’s stomach, and Cody drove into him so perfectly, and it had been too long, and he spilled with a ragged cry, scrambling for a grip at Cody’s shoulders and arms.

Cody hesitated, breathing hard above him, and Obi-Wan dug his free heel against Cody’s back, panting out, “Keep--keep going, it’s, keep--”

It was, apparently, all the motivation Cody needed. He rocked into motion, fucking Obi-Wan through it, mucles shifting and clenching under Obi-Wan’s hands until he cried out, as well, curling forward and coming in long, hot pulses and Obi-Wan felt them.

He’d gotten used to the way Cody rolled against him, after an orgasm. Even sensitive, he loved that slow movement, the knowledge that he could make Cody feel so good. He felt his breathing even out as Cody nuzzled against his hair, still all lit up, casting shadows on the walls around them.

Cody brushed a kiss to his mouth, long moments later, and shifted to slide out of him, murmuring, “Let me get you some--”

“Stay,” Obi-Wan panted, tugging on Cody’s arm even as he rolled. He wanted to - to see if he could wear Cody out, properly. But his hips protested the idea of trying another round on his back. He vaguely considered that he should have cleaned the come off of his stomach before smearing it all over the sheets, but it was too late to fix that now. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Come here.”

Cody stared at him, looked down his body and then up again, eyes unfathomably dark. He said, “But… I know you’re tired.”

“Not that tired,” Obi-Wan assured him, and slid one knee a little out to the side, which was, he knew, a bit of a dirty trick.

Cody was ever so fascinated with the way he could bend and stretch his legs. And, sure enough, it had Cody sliding a hand up the back of his thigh, rolling a little closer, asking, “Should I hold you, then?”

“You should fucking me, then,” Obi-Wan told him, and Cody made a thick sound. After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t that sensitive, not yet. His plan was still manageable, and--

Cody slid against him, between his legs, settling close and all the thoughts fled Obi-Wan’s head as Cody asked, “You’re sure?”

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said, in answer, tilting his hips up, and then swore, thready, when Cody pushed forward, into him, all at once, he was already so slick and stretched and--

And Obi-Wan felt himself getting hard again, the situation getting more pressing when Cody worked a hand under him, gripping his cock, stroking in time with each thrust, panting against his shoulders, and--

Obi-Wan’s second orgasm left him shaking, face pressed against the sheets while Cody kept going, mouthing at the back of his neck, leaving his skin aching in anticipation. Obi-Wan managed to twist an arm up and back, to twist fingers into Cody’s hair, tugging him closer.

Cody bit him almost right by his neck, teeth sinking in at the end of his orgasm, when he felt most sensitive, and he cried out, blindingly aware of each slide of Cody’s cock, of each shift of his teeth, or his weight and warmth and light.

Cody blanketed him and came with a sound that was muffled against Obi-Wan’s skin.

And Obi-Wan managed to say, through the daze, before Cody could get any ideas about pulling out and getting him water, about tending to the bite, “Again.”

Cody made a ragged noise and rocked into him more purposefully, and it was--so much. Too much and at the same time not enough, as though there were some plateau in Obi-Wan’s head that he’d never reached before, and each too-much touch was driving him closer to it.

He squirmed, couldn’t stop himself, heard a whine in his throat as Cody kept his teeth set just so. There was no room for thought, for anything really. He was just his blood and his nerves and sensation, striving to see, exactly, how much he could take.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

darling let me trace the lines

a flower shop fic for my beautiful @elisela <3

read on ao3

I. Birth Month Flowers

The bell above the shop door rings, but Eddie ignores it in favor of putting the finishing touches on the wedding arrangement he’s working on. There’s only one person who’d come in after closing anyway, and he’ll make his way to the back room soon enough.

He smiles as he feels strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and a chin come to rest on his shoulder. He puts the last of the peonies in place before turning around to greet Buck properly.

“Hi,” he says, arms coming around Buck in return. Buck’s smile gets bright and Eddie melts, like he always does. 

“Hi,” Buck whispers, leaning in to kiss Eddie softly, sweetly. “Happy anniversary.”

If anyone had told Eddie a year ago that this is where he’d end up — happier than he’s ever been with the best man he’s ever met, business going better and better each day, Chris continuing to shine — he’s not sure he would have believed them. He would’ve kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for every good thing to be met with something even worse, for the inevitability of sinking back into the darkness that constantly followed him.

But now, he has Buck and Chris and the rest of their little makeshift family to pull him out and remind him that he gets to keep these good things, that he deserves them. He still has days where that’s hard to believe, where everything goes a little grey, but then he’ll hear Chris’ laugh ring through the shop or see Buck smile, and colors come seeping back in again.

He kisses Buck one more time before stepping back to get a proper look at him. The first word that comes to mind is mouthwatering — dress pants cut just right, dark blue button down making his eyes even brighter. He looks like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue, and it takes every ounce of willpower Eddie can muster to not drag him upstairs right now and forget about their dinner reservations. 

There’s one glaring problem though, and Eddie reaches forward to undo the buttons at Buck’s wrist to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Buck tries to pull away, but Eddie’s grip is firm.

“Eddie, come on, this is a nice place, they won’t even let me in the door if they see all my ink.”

“Well, it’s my anniversary, and I want to see it. If my very Catholic, ‘your body is a temple’ abuela can accept your tattoos, the maître d' at this restaurant can too.”

He gets both sleeves rolled up to Buck’s elbows and takes a minute to admire the ink underneath. They’re all more than familiar now, and he’s spent hours asking Buck about each one, like Chris did when they first met. He likes knowing these things about Buck, the little bits that are so obvious on his arms but have meanings that go much deeper. It’s a privilege, a blessing really, and it’s not something that he’ll ever take for granted.

Buck’s blushing by the time he’s done, and Eddie kisses his nose to get a laugh out of him.

“Okay, okay, go get dressed, we’re gonna be late,” Buck says, shoving Eddie towards the stairs. Eddie does as he’s told, quickly changing and fixing his hair, and he feels himself smile as Buck’s jaw drops when he comes back downstairs.

He knows he looks good — both the lady at the store and Sophia on FaceTime said that maroon was definitely his color — but it’s nice that the main person he’s trying to impress agrees too.

“You look— damn, babe, are you sure we have to go to dinner?” Buck asks, pulling Eddie closer by his belt loops and kissing him deep. 

Eddie lets him, just for a minute, before pulling away, ignoring Buck’s groan as he grabs his hand and pulls him out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner goes by without incident (minus a brief makeout session in the bathroom between courses) and is overall perfect. Eddie is full of food and flushed from wine and swinging his and Buck’s clasped hands back and forth as they walk back to his apartment because he’s so happy he doesn’t know what else to do. The smile Buck shoots his way only makes that happiness grow.

The nerves settle in a bit once they finally get upstairs. “So, I know we didn’t talk about gifts or anything,” he says, pulling Buck towards the couch to sit down. “But I had a vague idea, and Chris wanted to help, and one thing led to another so...I do have something for you.”

Buck looks almost relieved. “Good, because I kinda have something for you too.”

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes — of course they did this with no planning — before going to his bedroom to grab the gift.

“Close your eyes!” he yells before walking back in. He gently places the gift in Buck’s lap and sits back down beside him.

“Okay, open.”

Buck does and looks down, eyes widening as he does. He traces a finger reverently over the leather cover of the book in front of him, stopping as he gets to the edge of the picture laid in the middle — the two of them and Chris at the beach, matching sunglasses and big smiles. It was their first “family day” after they got together, and the first time Eddie knew, with complete certainty, that this was all he wanted — all he needed — for the rest of his life.

“These are all from the past year,” he says as Buck starts flipping through, like that wasn’t obvious. But he’s nervous and Buck hasn’t said anything so he’s just...riffing. “Even Abuela had some that I didn’t know about. Chris added all the drawings, the ones you two have been working on, and he suggested the pressed flowers because I was teaching him how to press them anyway. It’s mostly jasmine because I know those are your favorite, and they mean ‘sweet love’ so it...fit.” Buck’s still quiet, slowly flipping through the pages. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but—”

“It’s perfect,” Buck says, voice rough. When he finally looks at Eddie, his eyes are shining. “I just can’t believe it’s only been a year and we’ve done all this.”

“There’s blank pages too,” Eddie says, tapping the back of the book. “For when we need them.” Not if we need them, because Eddie doesn’t feel presumptuous in thinking — knowing — that they’ll need those blank pages, and probably a couple thousand more.

Buck smiles and reaches up, cupping Eddie’s cheek. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.” He kisses him once, twice, three times before closing the book and setting it on the coffee table.

“My turn?” Eddie asks. Buck nods and stands up, smile gone and replaced with a nervous grimace. 

“So, first things first, I meant to talk to you about this before it happened,” Buck says. “But then I told Chim and Maddie about it, and they said it would be better as a surprise, and they’re very persuasive when they want to be, and she didn’t have a lot of time last week, so I—”

“Buck,” Eddie says, standing up too. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Buck’s eyes flit back and forth between his for a minute before he nods and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, it’s that kind of present?”

Buck just laughs and rolls his eyes. He finishes unbuttoning and shrugs his shirt off, revealing his bare chest and more tattoos that Eddie’s become intimately familiar with over the past year. He’s traced each of them with his fingers and his tongue, knows their stories, could probably draw them from memory if someone asked him to.

Except one.

It’s healed but still fresh, stark on Buck’s skin compared to some of the older, faded ones. The design is simple but clear, and obviously Maddie’s work: a marigold and a daisy, crossed at the stems, tied together in a perfect bow by a piece of twine. And it’s right over Buck’s heart, in a spot Eddie knows has been reserved for something truly special.

“It’s beautiful,” Eddie says, “but how is it for me?”

“Come on, Eddie, you know what flowers mean better than anyone.”

“Sure, and I know marigolds are for pain and grief and daisies are for innocence. But what does that have to do with us? Unless you mean—” 

He loses his breath a little because it clicks. Tears sting his eyes as he looks up at Buck, because he knows what he thinks it means, what he wants it to mean, but he wants to hear Buck say it too.

Buck smiles, soft and beautiful. “A marigold for an October birthday, like yours, and a daisy for an April birthday, like Chris’. The bow is actually a rose vine for a June birthday.”

“Like yours,” Eddie whispers. 

Buck nods, but he quickly looks nervous again. “I know it’s kind of a lot, and maybe it’s assuming too much, but you guys are it for me. Really, really it. This is the best way I could show you that.”

Eddie reaches a hand up, traces gently over a petal, feels Buck’s heart thumping underneath it. Underneath them. A symbol of their family, so solidly formed that Buck wanted it to be a permanent part of him, woven into the tapestry of the stories he paints on his skin.

Eddie’s at a loss for words — so many big things he wants to say, but they’re all getting tangled in his brain, mixed with the sheer awe that this is even happening. Buck must take it as a bad sign though, because his face falls a bit and he starts looking around the room at anywhere but Eddie.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he says, trying to grab for his shirt on the floor. “Like I said, I should’ve told you first—”

Eddie grabs Buck’s face and pulls him into a searing kiss. He’s getting better with words, with communicating his thoughts and talking through what he’s feeling, but sometimes actions still serve him much better. He does his best to pour the tangle of love and devotion and thoughts of forever into the kiss, and if his enthusiastic response is any indication, Buck seems to pick up on everything just fine.

They come up for air eventually, but Eddie keeps holding on to Buck, his thumbs gently tracing the blush on his cheeks. He just looks, takes this moment in, floored by the fact that even when he thinks things can’t get better, that he’s used up all his good fortune and reached the peak of whatever happiness he’s been allowed, Buck comes in and blows the roof clean off.

“You’re it for us too,” he says softly, earnestly. Buck’s smile is big and bright, and Eddie falls in love all over again.

II. Matching Rings

“You know you’re gonna have to get this redone, like, every year, right?”

Buck shoves Chim’s shoulder, almost knocking the ink out of his hands in the process. “You said you’d give us anything we wanted as a wedding present. And you’re only doing mine, so it’s like half a present. Be grateful we didn’t ask for money, too.”

Chim holds his hands up placatingly and finishes loading his machine. It’s just the three of them on the floor, Maddie in the back office doing something with accounting. The sun is going down, lighting the whole room up with soft, golden light. It hits Buck just right too where he’s laid back in Chimney’s chair, making his skin glow in all the places it peaks out beneath the ink. His hair is soft and loose and his smile is easy, and Eddie feels his heart pick up, like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it.

Eddie can’t believe he has to wait a week to marry this man. He’d do it right here, right now if he could. But it’s only seven days, and today they’re doing something just as permanent, just as lasting as they are.

This wasn’t part of the original plan. Everything else was set for the wedding — the venue, the food, the cake, the suits, everything, except the rings. They’d spent three separate weekends going to stores all around Los Angeles, scouring Etsy shops, talking to designers, and still nothing felt right. Nothing they saw felt true to either of them, as a couple or as individuals, and it was (on top of the general stress of planning a wedding) starting to get to Eddie.

“Screw it,” he’d said after another two hours of searching, closing out of another store’s website. “This is so stupid. The rings are the least important part of this, why is it so hard to find good ones?”

Buck pats his shoulder and sets down a mug of tea in front of him before sitting down next to him. “We could just get cheap ones for the actual wedding and keep looking after. Or skip the rings altogether?”

“No, I still want them,” Eddie said. “I just want them to be special. To be us. We’re going to be wearing them for the rest of our lives, we should like them.”

Buck nodded, tapping the side of his own mug, lost in thought. Eddie tried to search some more, typing every combination of “male wedding ring not ugly” in Google and hoping something stuck, until Buck suddenly grabbed his wrist, his eyes bright.

“What if we do tattoos instead.”

“Ring tattoos? Is that even a thing?” He liked to think he’d absorbed a fair amount of tattoo knowledge in all his years of knowing Buck, but he can’t remember a time anyone ever came into the shop for something like that.

Buck nodded. “They’re more popular than they used to be. And we could design them ourselves. They’ll need touch ups, but what’s more permanent than ink being shoved into a layer of your skin?”

He was right. Tattoos meant a lot to the both of them — what better way to truly bond them for life? Eddie smiled back, kissing Buck’s cheek. “You’re a genius.”

So now, three weeks later, design finalized and on their only free evening for the next seven days, Chim starts up his machine and starts on Buck’s left hand.

It’s a simple design — black, interwoven strands, tied together by each other’s initials on the palm side. To Eddie, the strands look like a ribbon of DNA, which makes perfect sense for how much Buck is a part of him, heart and soul and everywhere else in between. He’s intrinsic to Eddie’s very being at this point, and now everyone else will get to see it too, will know from just a glance that he is happily, permanently, taken.

He feels Buck snake his free hand into his own, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. He looks up, worried, but Buck seems fine, easy smile still on his face, brighter still now that it’s night.

“You okay?”

Buck nods. “Doesn’t hurt. Just like holding your hand.”

Eddie smiles and rolls his eyes, but squeezes his hand back just as gently.

Chim takes his time, meticulous as always, but he’s still done fairly quickly. He wraps Buck’s finger and cleans up his station before heading to the back to find Maddie, yelling “Congrats you two, don’t touch any of my stuff” over his shoulder as he goes. Buck just rolls his eyes before standing — his hand still clasped in Eddie’s — and leading them over to his own station. Eddie gets comfortable in the chair while Buck gets everything ready, and while he tries to take in the shop around him, noting the new artwork and paint job that Maddie just finished last weekend, his eyes always drift back to Buck, hands moving sure and quick as he cleans and fills his machine. Buck finishes up and catches him (though he wasn’t really trying to hide), smiling softly as he sits down in front of Eddie and takes his hand. The machine buzzes to life, and Eddie lets out a hiss as it touches his finger.

“Remember the last time you were here?” Buck asks, eyes trained on his work.

Of course Eddie does — he couldn’t stop staring at Buck that time either, no matter how hard he tried. He also remembers being scared, not of the tattoo, but of his growing feelings for Buck, how they were getting harder and harder to ignore but he still hadn’t felt like he deserved Buck or the pure light and joy he’s made up of. 

Some days he still doesn’t, even after three years together and a week away from getting married. 

But then Buck will come into the shop and launch into a story about a terrible client he just had, or come through the back door and plop down next to Chris to help with homework or an art project, or just look at Eddie with his steady, sure gaze, press a kiss to his cheek, and tell him he loves him like it’s the only thing he knows for certain. And Eddie will remember how well Buck fits into their lives, how easy it is to love him and be loved by him, and those doubts wash away as quickly as they came.

Buck shows him more love every day than any person should be capable of showing. Eddie can’t wait to spend the rest of his life giving it right back.

“Done!” Buck says. Eddie looks down at his hand and feels a beautiful warmth spread through him that threatens to bubble over in a laugh or tears or maybe both. Buck’s smiling too as he wraps Eddie’s finger and places a gentle kiss to the knuckle right below the ink, the promises of forever they’ve made to each other now permanent on them for the whole world to see

“So, a touch up every year huh?” Eddie asks as they leave the shop and head back to the apartment. Buck throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him closer as the cool night breeze whirls around them.

“Think of it like a permanently scheduled vow renewal,” Buck says, and Eddie does, his mind suddenly fast forwarding to see them 10, 20, 30 years down the line, renewing their commitment to each other year after year within the now sacred walls of Armageddon, older and greyer but still just in love as they are right now, if not more. It makes Eddie feel that warmth all over again, coursing through him until a laugh does bubble out of him as he presses a kiss under Buck’s jaw. He stops them walking and pulls Buck closer, kissing him for real — slowly, thoroughly, tangling their hands together and gently tracing over Buck’s ring finger, excited beyond words for the start of the rest of their lives together.

III. Ursa Major and Minor

Chris is being weird.

Which isn’t actually unusual — he’s almost 18, and teenagers are always a little weird about certain things. Eddie’s still not allowed to look in the bottom drawer of Chris’ nightstand, and at this point, he probably doesn’t want to.

But still. He’s being weird. And for that matter, so is Buck.

He can tell they’re hiding something — it feels like every time he comes into the back room, they’re huddled over the table, whispering about something. He tried to look over Chris’ shoulder once to see what he was scribbling in a notebook, but Buck had yanked it away and sat on it before Eddie could get too close. Whenever he tries to ask what’s going on, they just smile at him, the picture of innocence, and start talking about schoolwork or graduation or anything else until Eddie finally moves on.

And he loves it, really, that Chris and Buck have their own little thing at the moment, something that’s just for them. But he’d also really like to know what the hell is going on.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, answering emails about orders after dinner, when Buck and Chris walk in. Buck has that mischievous, self-satisfied glint in his eye that always raises Eddie’s blood pressure a few points, but Chris looks nervous. He’s fidgeting with the notebook in his hands and has the same wide-eyed look he had when he opened every one of his college acceptance letters. 

Eddie shuts his laptop and pushes it to the side. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Chris just has a question for you.” Buck nudges him gently with his elbow before sitting down at the table. Chris follows suit, taking the seat across for Eddie, looking nervous still but more determined. He takes a deep breath and finally looks Eddie in the eye.

“So,” he starts. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

Eddie nods. “Same day every year.”

Buck snorts and Chris rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Dad. And I know we already have plans, but I wanted to add one more thing for us to do.”

“Sure, buddy. What did you have in mind?”

Chris takes another deep breath and answers quickly on the exhale so it comes out like Iwannageddatattoo. Eddie tilts his head and leans forward. “Come again?”

Another breath. “I want to get a tattoo. Tomorrow. For my birthday.” He flips through the notebook in front of him, landing on a page and sliding it towards Eddie. There’s things scratched out all over the page but the final design is clearly circled — the Big and Little Dippers, each point made of small, hand-drawn asterisks and connected by even lines of dots. It’s clean, simple, and Eddie thinks it looks beautiful (though mostly because Chris put a lot of effort into putting it together).

“They look great, Chris,” he says, “and you technically won’t need my permission to get it tomorrow, but I’m sure I can sway someone at Armageddon to get you an appointment.” 

Buck smiles and nods. “Already on the schedule. But there’s something else Chris wanted to ask.” He looks pointedly at Chris, who rolls his eyes again and nods.

“So I want to get this one,” he says, reaching across the table and pointing at the Little Dipper. “And I thought, if you want— you don’t have to, but—” he moves his hand to the Big Dipper. “I was wondering if you would get this one with me?”

Eddie could cry. He very well might with how fast he feels his eyes welling up. He and Chris have always been close — something he’s been thankful for every day of his son’s teenage years — but this is something else entirely. He got his first tattoo out of spite towards his parents, and now Chris wants to get one with him?

He’s quiet for too long, because Chris looks even more nervous. He clears his throat and reaches across the table to take Chris’ hand in his. “I’d love to. If you’re sure. This is a pretty permanent decision.”

Chris smiles. “They’re our stars. I want us to get them together.”

Now Eddie’s definitely going to cry. He remembers summer nights in El Paso after Shannon had left — when neither of them could sleep, so they snuggled in the hammock in their backyard instead and stared up at the stars. He didn’t know many constellations, but there were two that he could always find.

“They look like spoons,” Chris had said once, still small enough to fit snuggly to Eddie’s side. 

“They do,” Eddie said. “But they’re not just spoons, they’re part of bigger pictures — Ursa Major and Minor, Big Bear and Little Bear.”

“Like a dad and a baby?” Chris asked. Eddie’s heart clenched — because he’d burrowed impossibly closer when he asked that, because he hadn’t asked about a mom, because he loves this kid so much he’d grab every star in the sky for him if he wanted them — and he ran his fingers through soft curls, trying to stay in the moment for as long as he can.

“That’s right,” he said, voice rougher than he wanted. “They’re always together, always protecting each other. Just like you and me.”

“Forever?” Chris asked as he placed his hand in Eddie’s.

Eddie swallowed, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris’ head and clasping their hands together. “Forever and ever.”

He meant it — he still means it — but the fact that Chris kept that promise with him too all these years, turned it into something precious, something worth immortalizing, it makes Eddie wish he could go back in time and tell his younger self that everything would be fine. That whatever doubts he had swirling in his head while laying in that hammock were for nothing — that he was and is a good father, who raised the best kid in the world to be full of joy and happiness and love, just like he promised himself he would the minute Chris was born.

He laughs as he feels tears fall for real, and Chris laughs wetly too, coming over to him and hugging him tight around the neck. Eddie holds on just as hard, reaching down to grasp Buck’s hand too when he feels him squeeze his knee.

He hopes those lucky stars are listening when he sends up a thank you for giving him this family.

“I love you, Dad,” Chris says.

Eddie untangles them enough to take Chris’ face in his hands, get a good look at his son — his beautiful, perfect boy, who’s becoming a better man than Eddie could’ve ever hoped for.

“I love you too, kid. Forever and ever.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Chris goes first the next day, brave face on until Buck starts up the machine and brings it to the inside of his bicep.

He grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes hard. Eddie doesn’t let it go.

[imaginesandinserts]

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.”

[thefanficmonster]

Icy Fairytale

Boyinaband (Dave Brown) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Falling in love is walking on thin ice in and of itself, but what happens when it's literal? Yeah that's right - two ambitious individuals fall head over heels for one another on the delicate icy ground of a Brighton ice skating rink.

Requested by @onceuponadie Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I'm so sorry for the long wait but I still hope you find the time to enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

No matter how hard I try, I can't tie the laces of my skates properly. I can't tell what's wrong with me today but I know something's seriously not right. To be perfectly honest though, I might have an idea or two as to why this is happening to me but I'd rather keep my mouth shut on the subject to avoid the intense blush and the flock of butterflies that will inevitably attack my stomach. And I can't have that many distractions while I'm on the ice.

Oh who am I kidding, my main distraction is always there, either in front of me or by my side. Sometimes even holding onto me for support.

Dave Brown is the name of it.

The name I was completely indifferent to when it was first brought to my attention.

It was a cold rainy day in Brighton, the town I was still on-the-fence about at the time. My trainer had been wanting to collaborate with a trainer from the UK for a while and had finally scheduled and arranged for the two of us to be able to fly out there and meet with him. I thought my trainer was ambitious, but this this new guy was a whole new level of ambitious. I could tell right away he'd be hard to please and I had no issue with that - I am and I always have been a goal-getter; I myself am hard to please and I've often been called an 'obsessed artist' by my trainer so I was beyond excited for this new extraordinary and challenging journey.

I just didn't know that the challenging part wouldn't be the skating.

After a particularly long practice session, once I was finally left alone by my trainers, I stuck around at the skating rink to wind down and feel the freedom of skating how I want and how I know I'm supposed to. Free like a bird gliding through the sky, not bound by any choreography or anyone's rules and opinions. That's when I'm most myself.

And that's when I met him.

The rink was closed and suppose to be reserved for only me and my coaches for the day but him and his friends - now my friend too - Joel probably didn't think much of the notice on the door considering they had waltzed in with zero idea the vicinity was booked.

I was too entranced in my own world to notice their presence by the seats. I only took notice of the fact I wasn't alone when Joel called out to me.

"Are we interrupting? Is this a private session or something? We can leave, sorry for bothering you."

While the other boy was talking, Dave remained silent, blending into the background and not drawing any of my attention to him. And yes, maybe I was supposed to turn them back, tell them to leave and whatnot, but I did the exact opposite.

"Private session's over, you can stick around, it's not a problem." I said, slowly gliding over to the entrance of the rink where the boys were now standing after they finished climbing down the stairs to approach the ice rink.

I stopped in my tracks rather abruptly as to not crash into them, stabilizing myself before offering them my hand for a handshake. "I'm Y/N. Professional figure skater."

I couldn't help but let out a little giggle when their jaws went loose, hanging open in surprise. They were quick to regain their composure, Joel being the one to accept my hand first, followed by Dave, both of them introducing themselves as they did so.

"Cool streak." I casually pointed at the red streak in Dave's hair, "I've always wanted to dye my hair but I'm not allowed to by my trainer."

He scoffed at my remark, "Your trainer? He's got the audacity to boss you around? Does he not realize how lucky he is to have a skater like you to his name?"

I was understandably taken aback by this compliment. I'm used to being given compliments after my performances in competitions, but I've never considered my unchoreographed skating as anything more than mediocre. It was surprising to receive such a positive remark, heartwarming nonetheless though.

"That's so kind of you to say, Dave, thanks." I'm still a long way from knowing how to properly respond to compliments - mostly cause I don't believe them - but I'd like to think I handled that one well. No, I know I handled it well considering Dave, Joel and I have been friends ever since.

As to why they were at the skating rink that day - they wanted to fulfill a New Year's resolution they had made at the start of the year: learning how to ice skate because apparently they were hopeless at it. And yes, they were - they got on the ice with me that day and were dropping like flies. I considered it a miracle if they were even able to get off their asses on their own. I had to pull them up a couple of times - a gesture they paid me back for with lunch afterwards. Following that day, only Dave remained determined to make his resolution count and he kept coming to the ice rink to practice (read: fall and get back up) and learn with my help of course. It's safe to say I've never laughed so much in such a short period of time and never have I ever established a friendship so quickly with anyone ever. I guess being someone's ice skating buddy is a whole different level of a friendship where the rules of a regular friendship don't apply.

I soon came to realize why that was...

Because I suddenly found myself wanting more than a friendship with Dave. It's ridiculous as hell, as all goddamn hell, but I couldn't and still can't help myself. It's these little subtle signs that shine through my behavior, all completely unintentional. The lingering hold meant to keep him stable on his skates. The firm eye contact when I'm trying to get him to focus on his balance. The little touches and hugs all gestures meant to congratulate him on his little wins like falling and managing to get to his feet on his own; managing to make three solid strides without sprawling out on the ice, etc. I must be the worst ice skating instructor ever - as Dave gained more balance and needed my assistance less, I found myself missing the times I literally had to hold him up, his arms wrapped around me and mine around him. I miss the times he held my hand to avoid falling and still fell, sometimes dragging me down with him.

And I'm only gonna miss those times even more after tomorrow because after tomorrow, I'll no longer be in the UK and I'll no longer be there to see Dave's successes and fails. I'll no longer have him be my distraction, the only distraction I've ever approved of and wanted around. I'll no longer have a chance to feed into the temptation of telling Dave what I feel for him. It's a temptation and a fear and excites me just as much as it terrifies me, paralyzes me just thinking of the outcome, especially when I know I won't get my feelings reciprocated. I won't get anything better than a soft rejection from him yet I still want to come clean.

Why, you might be asking - well, it's rather simple, actually. I think he deserves to know how special he's made these last few months. How much he's made me fall in love with this city and the UK as a whole. How much I enjoyed our adventures both on and off the ice. How much fun I had going sightseeing with him as my tour guide.

How much I enjoyed his company and how hard I fell for him in the process.

Today's the last day of 'class' for the both of us but I just so happen to be the only one who's aware of it. Yeah, I've been one hell of a coward and never brought up my inevitable departure despite having been informed over a week ago. Exactly, I had a week to come clean about more things than one, but I chose silence.

And boy did that bad decision come to hit me against the back of the head like a boomerang. A mocking and particularly painful one at that.

Get it together, Y/N. One of these news you'll have to tell him, he has to know you're leaving. And the other...

"Sorry I'm late!" The familiar voice coming in a breathy yell from somewhere in the darkness surrounding the seats awakens me and frees me from my mind's battle with itself. "The rain only makes traffic worse."

Now or never. Don't drag it out and keep adding salt to the wound!

"I'm leaving!" I say, loud enough to be heard clearly despite our distance. Also loud enough to cover up the tremble in my voice. It took a lot of power just to say that one sentence, I wonder how I'm gonna power through having to explain it to him.

"Jeez, did I upset you that badly?" Dave surprises the hell out of me when he steps on the ice, already in his skates which I didn't even notice him put on. I'm not surprised by that to be honest, I'm too caught up in my own thoughts and how I'm displaying them in my demeanor to notice my surroundings.

"N-no, I..." so much for covering up that tremble in my voice, "I have to leave the UK...tomorrow...I'm going back home for a competition and to, you know, get ready for the Olympics...I don't know when or if I'll be back but I was hoping..."

"What? When'd you hear about this? Why so suddenly? Is it that big of an emergency that they inform you literally five minutes in advance?" There are enough emotions in his voice to prevent me from looking at his face, especially his eyes. I'm afraid of what kind of hurt or whatever other emotion I might see there.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "My trainer told me last week...", I admit, gritting my teeth and cringing as my stomach ties itself is several knots that are causing me great discomfort.

There's a pause which I'm assuming is meant for him to collect all his thoughts and properly process them. I'm afraid of what he'll say when he does.

"So I'm the one finding out five minutes before your departure?" He finally asks, the tone of voice he uses making my heart sink a little.

Damn it, Dave I already feel guilty enough, this is unnecessary!

No, no, he has a point and has every right to be upset. Friends don't keep friends in the dark about things like this. About any things really.

Then why do you keep him in the dark about literally EVERYTHING?

This is what I was afraid of - getting the temptation of coming clean. I have nothing to lose after all, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. I'll lose him one way or another.

"Listen, Dave...", I didn't think this through but I'll improvise it, that's a better option than shutting my mouth and not saying another word, "I was gonna tell you, I really wanted to, but I couldn't...I couldn't bring myself to do it. I still don't want to believe that I'm leaving. I love it here and just the thought of leaving it all behind...it hurts, you know. And 'the more people know the realer it is' is a real thing so I didn't want...." I stop, my voice cutting off completely as I find myself weak on balance. Maybe standing in the middle of an ice rink isn't the best setting for this conversation. "I'm being ridiculous and I'm stalling like a coward." I say that more to myself than to him but I don't let him speak. Instead, I continue my rambling after a brief sigh.

Dave, God bless his soul, stays silent and just looks at me with this curious gaze which is letting me know he's holding back for my sanity's sake, allowing me to take a breather and collect my thoughts before I express them to avoid misunderstanding me.

I inhale, finally ready to start talking, "Alright, here we go...Look, I don't want to end this...friendship between us on a bad note but I don't want it to end with there still being secrets between us so I'm gonna finally say what I've been wanting and not wanting to tell you for a while now. It's on you whether it'll be a bad ending to a good story or not, but I just need to get it off my chest, ok?"

He nods, not at all as hesitantly as I thought he would which is relieving to see, so I continue.

"This is gonna sound pathetic and downright laughable but here it goes - I like you, Dave. The kind of like where I see you as more than a friend and sometimes even wish you would see me the same way as well despite being sure you don't. And please, if you plan on pulling a pity act give me a heads up so I can just walk aw-"

My ramble is put to an end when Dave puts his hand up, pointer finger in the air and almost touching my lips as a gesture to shush me. I am typically one of the hardest people to shut up EVER, but now the words die down on their own as if they are even happy to be put to rest at his request.

"Y/N you are the most talented, most graceful, the kindest and most beautiful and smartest person I have ever met and yet you still also happen to be the densest and most ignorant when it comes to the people around you. You're a people pleaser, I've figured out as much, but goddamn it, you rarely know what a person actually wants. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, this could just be the case with me and an inability to show emotion which I haven't known about all this time, but still - if your dense ass hasn't noticed it yet I'll say it out loud for you and if you still find a way to misinterpret it, I'll spell it out for you in huge neon letters, got it?" He makes something barely alike a pause before sighing, "Y/N L/N, the most densest person in this whole word, you've had me star-struck since day one and I've only been falling deeper and harder in love with you ever since. And you don't have even the slightest clue of what happened to me and my heart a couple minutes ago when you said you were leaving. Believe what you wanna, but words have never crushed me harder ever before and trust me, that says a lot. So, before you go and think you have my emotions figured out, remember that I actually know how to skate."

That's A LOT to take in. It's got layers upon layers of questions followed by answers followed by even more questions that I'm not sure I'm prepared to ask or answer.

So he's liked me since the day we met? Love at first sight? Nah, that shit only exists in movies.

He was hurt by that? I hurt him by not telling him then I hurt him by telling him and I'll hurt him the hardest when I leave tomorrow. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for putting so much pain on him without even realizing it?

And wait - he knows how to skate???

"You can skate? Like, you can can skate? Like, you're not a hopeless case like you've made me believe?" I ask, one of my eyebrows shooting up suspiciously.

Dave goes from looking puzzled to cracking up with laughter within a second after hearing my question, "Oh Y/N, you're so adorable. That's what's got you puzzled the most out of all I just said?"

I narrow my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest defensively, "Well the rest seems pretty cut-and-dry, if you ask me." I say sarcastically, earning another laugh from him.

It's only now that I notice how confidently he's standing on the ice - as though he's standing on solid, non-slippery ground which is far from the image I have of Dave while on ice. The uncertainty, the lack of stability, it's all disappeared from his still demeanor which now makes a lot more sense.

He smirks at me, "Does it now, densey?"

I frown at the nickname, "Don't call me th-"

He doesn't let me finish, instead presses his lips against mine, the contact making me lose balance on my skates. Luckily, he probably calculated this risk in advance cause his arms wrap around me instantly, preventing me from slipping more than an inch.

"Who needs to be held up now?" He asks, pressing his forehead against mine when we pull away from the kiss.

I keep my eyes closed despite the urge to roll them in playful annoyance, "Oh, shut it."

And he does so by pressing his lips against mine once again.

What will happen once I leave, I have not the slightest clue. Hell, I don't even know what'll happen when we pull away permanently and get off the ice we're standing on. But I do know what's happening right now - I'm kissing Dave Brown and nothing's ever felt this right before.

@waterlilypat @iwillboilyourteeth @insanedeathwish @onceuponadie @loraleiix @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @goldenstarofthunderclan @cosmicstorm19 @lam-ila @sra-verissimo @marthebeeduosimp

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Eight

Title: Potential Home

Words: 1891

Warnings: Strong sexual content (P in V sex, spicy kissing, groping), strong language

A/N: If you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write for you!

If you’d like to support me, buy me a Ko-Fi?

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The winter months had passed without any major incidents. No one died, but food was scarce and you were never able to stay in one place for more than a week. It got better as the months got warmer, but it was still rough.

 A few weeks had gone by before you and your brothers told the Greene family about the supernatural. It took a lot to convince them, but after a run in with a group of vampires, they believed you.

 You and Daryl had also gotten closer, and surprisingly, your slightly overprotective brothers didn’t have a huge problem with it. The two of you were good for each other, and they saw that. Daryl made you happy and that was something not a lot of people got these days.

 You had been on the road for a few days since the last house you stayed in was overrun. Lori looked like she was about to pop and you needed to find a place to stay. Going house to house or staying out the open wasn’t becoming an option anymore. So when you came across a prison while hunting with Daryl and Rick, you thought that this could be it.

 ---

 “We found a place,” Rick said when you got back to the group. “It’s a prison.”

 “A prison?” Carl asked.

 “Yeah. The fences held up and it looks good,” you said. “I think we should go for it. We also got some meat.”

 “We’d have to clear it out, but this could be it.”

 Everyone agreed, and piled into the cars. You sat with your brothers and daughter, as usual, and off you went. When you got there, Rick cut the fence while you helped fend off walkers as Sam held Adeline close. Once everyone was inside the fence, Daryl and Glenn tied it back together fast. Running along the path, you got to an open space.

 “It’s perfect,” Rick breathed as he looked at the prison yard. “If we can shut that gate and prevent more from getting into the yard, we can pick off these walkers.”

 “So how do we shut the gate?” Hershel asked.

 “I’ll do it. You guys cover me,” Glenn volunteered.

 “No,” Maggie said. “It’s a suicide run.”

 “I’m the fastest.”

 “No. You, Maggie, Beth, and T-Dog draw as many as you can over there. Pull them away from the middle of the yard and pop ‘em through the fence. Daryl, you and [y/n] get up in that tower there. Carol, you’ve gotten to be a pretty good shot, join them. Carl, Dean, and Hershel, you go in that tower. Sam, stay close to Lori and the kids down here. I’ll run for the gate.”

 “Be careful, Rick,” you said before running with Daryl and Carol to the tower. Adeline was still wrapped in Sam’s arms, her wide eyes watching as Lori opened the gate for Rick.

 Cautiously, you quickly made your way to the top. There were no walkers for you to take out and you were grateful for the small victory. Holding your rifle steady, you aimed the sights at the walkers in the yard. When the group on the ground attracted a fair bit, you opened fire. Carefully, you made every bullet count. You didn’t have a lot of ammo to spare and you knew it.

 The sound of gunfire filled the air, the sounds of bodies falling coming soon after. When Rick got to the gate, he kicked a walker out of the way and pulled it shut. You shot one that was sneaking up on him and when he managed to get into the third tower, you let out a sigh of relief.

 “He did it!” Carol said.

 “Light it up!” Daryl yelled to everyone.

 With a stupid grin on your face, you continued shooting down walkers until there were none left in the yard. Once they were all dead for good, you turned to Daryl and kissed him. His free arm went around your waist and you broke apart with a laugh. Carol was looking at the two of you fondly and walked down the tower stairs with a soft smile on her face.

 Once she was gone, Daryl pulled you closer to him. His lips met yours hungrily and you let out a small moan as his hand gripped your ass. You set your gun down and he set his crossbow down, pulling you closer to him now with both hands. There was no space between you and you could feel your body heating up. His touch was like fire and you couldn’t get enough of it. When he detached himself from your lips and started making his way down your neck, you keened.

 “D-Daryl,” you whimpered.

 “Yes?” He said, muffled slightly.

 “We’re out in the open. They could still see us.” Your voice cracked.

 “Don’t care. Need ta feel ya.”

 With that, he dug his fingers into your ass and you jolted, your belly hitting his hard cock. You moaned and Daryl hissed in pleasure. He hiked up your thigh, making it wrap around his waist. You rocked your hips up into him and he responded the same.

 “We-we should get back to the group. They’ll worry.” You didn’t want to stop, but you knew you had to.

 “Don’t wanna stop.”

 “How ‘bout this? We go back to the group and after they go to sleep, I’ll let you fuck me in this tower,” you purred into his ear.

 “Fuck,” Daryl groaned. His hips jerked forward at the thought of being able to properly fuck you for the first time in a while.

 “Sound good?”

 “Sounds perfect.” He kissed you hard once more and pulled himself away. You giggled as he adjusted his straining cock and he lifted an eyebrow at you.

 “What’s funny?”

 “Nothin’!” You said sweetly. Bending over to grab your gun, Daryl grabbed your clothed pussy and you moaned. Movements stuttering, you gave him a half-assed glare and he smirked cheekily.

 “What was that for?” You asked.

 “Nothin’,” he said.

 “Oh hush.” Daryl laughed and smacked your behind as you walked past him.

 “S’go, ‘fore your brothers throw a fit.”

 ---

 After you had taken the prison yard, you made a fire while some others went to get the cars. Everyone was in good spirits and you felt lighter than you had in months. Sitting on a blanket, your family beside you lighthearted, made it hard to wipe the smile off of your face. Daryl was watching the gate and Carol had brought him some food.

 Beth had started singing and you saw Daryl coming back, Carol in tow. Rick had come over too. Sitting down behind you, Daryl pulled you and Adeline into his lap and you snuggled close. Closing your eyes and listening to Beth’s and Maggie’s voices, you could feel yourself drifting off to sleep. When Daryl saw that, he gently jostled you awake.

 “Don’t forget your promise ta me,” he growled lowly in your ear. You shivered at the hunger in his voice and he pulled you closer.

 “Better all turn in,” Rick said. “I’ll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow.”

 “What do you mean?” You asked.

 “Look, I know we’re all exhausted. This was an amazing win. But we gotta push just a little more. Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners. There’s no civilians.”

 “That would mean that the whole prison is secure,” you said.

 “Exactly. It could also mean that the supplies may be intact. Food, medicine.”

 “Weapons?” Daryl asked.

 “That would be outside the prison itself, but no too far away. Wardens office would have the details. This place could be a gold mine.”

 “We’re dangerously low on ammo,” Hershel said. “We’d run out before we made a dent.”

 “That’s why we have to go in there. Hand to hand,” Rick said. “After all we’ve been through, I know we can handle it. These assholes don’t stand a chance.”

 You let out a small laugh and so did Carl. When Rick walked to the tower, Lori followed him. Daryl patted your thigh and you got up, setting a sleeping Adeline next to Sophia on your blanket.

 “We’re gonna go to the other tower to keep watch. You can only see so much from the one,” you said. Turning to Carol, you said, “Watch Adeline for me?”

 “Alright. Have fun,” Carol said, wiggling her eyebrows.

 “Not too much fun,” Dean muttered. Sam hit him in the side and Dean winced before waving his hand.

 Daryl scoffed and pulled you by the hand. The walk to the tower was quiet, and you swung your intertwined hands. Once you had climbed the stairs and stepped into the small room, Daryl pushed you up against the door. His hands practically tore your shirt off of your body, your bra going next.

 “Haven’t seen these perfect tits in too long,” Daryl groaned. He palmed at your chest and you keened, pushing yourself into him. You pulled him in for a kiss, running your hands up his shirt. He tugged his shirt over his head and threw it in the corner of the room before lifting you up onto the desk. Trailing his lips down your neck and onto your stomach, you whined at the soft touches.

 He got to the waistband of your jeans and used his teeth to pry open the button and pull down the zipper. Once you were completely naked, he hungrily looked you over. His gaze was hot and even though he had seen you naked before, it still made you a little embarrassed.

 “Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he growled.

 Hurriedly taking his own pants off, he closed the gap between the two of you once again. He rutted into you gently, hands caressing every inch of your body. Your head thrown back, Daryl drank in the sight of you.

 “What do ya want, babygirl?” He asked you.

 “Want you,” you moaned.

 “Me? What part of me?”

 “Want your cock!”

 Daryl smirked at those words and pressed himself closer to you. You cried out at his touch and he took pity on you, lining up his cock and pushing it into you. Letting out a high pitched moan, you scrambled to hold onto Daryl as he set a brutal pace. You knew that neither one of you was going to last long, it had been a couple months since you had last been with each other.

 Grabbing his face, you pulled him into a searing kiss. Tongues intertwining, chests heaving, you hit your peak once Daryl started rubbing your clit. You clenched harshly around him and he came inside you a few seconds later. Trying to catch your breath, you moaned when Daryl started mouthing at your neck, hands running up your side. He started moving his hips again and your breath hitched.

 “Got another one in there for me?”

 ---

 The next day started early. Dean, Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog were going to clear out some of the prison. After they got armed and ready, you kissed your brother’s cheek.

 “Stay safe,” you said.

 “I will.” Dean gave Adeline a kiss and nodded to Sam before walking away with the others. You watched them start to take out the walkers and bit your lip in worry.

[sgwrscrsh]

double double miya style: the epilogue

☁️a/n☁️ here we are, at the end of another series. writing this hit home extra hard since i’ve gone through something similar the last couple of months. but enough about me. please enjoy the final installment of double double, miya style: the series.

cw: implicit character deaths

“i still remember when we brought you home from this same hospital.”

“seems like it was so long ago. you were all just little babies that barely fit in our arms.”

three of the younger adults standing around the room shake their heads asynchronously. 

"don't embarrass us like that, mom," ryuki says despite the sad smile spreading across his face.

"what's wrong with being a little nostalgic? we're all family here."

“speaking of which, where is your sister?”

“she said she was gonna be a little late since practice ran long. you know how it is for d1 athletes getting ready for the olympics,” ryo pipes up, pocketing his phone. “it’s a good thing we close shop on sundays.”

“and whose genius idea was that?”

“oh, shut up about taking credit already, umi,” hana teases, shutting the door behind her. “we get it, you have a degree in business management.”

“it only took him three major changes to finally make up his mind,” her twin quips without missing a beat. 

“yea well, better late than never. ryo wouldn’t have been able to run both branches without me. he’s only good in the kitchen. not as good as my wife, of course, but good enough to keep customers coming, i suppose,” takumi places a sweet kiss on her lips and pulls away with a smile. 

“that’s not what your boys said last time they stopped by for lunch, right, little dudes?” ryo leans down to offer his three identical nephews each a fist bump in turn.

“don’t try to steal my boys. my precious niece and nephew will get jealous.”

“it’s okay, uncle takumi. we’re used to it by now.”

“yea, at least dad can feed us properly.”

“hey! i can cook some stuff,” takumi huffs. 

the two brothers who lay in their beds chuckled weakly as they listen to the familiar squabble, drawing the attention of the family around them. their gazes turned from amused to sad as their wives, children, and grandchildren took in their time-withered forms.

“anyway, i don’t know how you guys manage your busy jobs on top of your home lives. i just barely figured out how to balance work with my relationship. i mean, it does help that they’re on the team with me.”

“i mean, dad did it,” ryo points out, slinging his arms around his adopted children happily. “so did uncle tsumu.”

“exactly.” takumi’s boys swat at his hands mussing their hair, uncaring of their father’s soft smile. “but i can’t imagine how you do it as a single dad.”

“i had a lot of help before the divorce. she was just set on a different path from me, but she was still an amazing mother.”

“i’m sure you’d make a great mom, too, hana,” ryuki says. “huh, sweetie?” his wife nods in agreement, bouncing their young daughter in her arms. “though, being an exhibit curator for the museum lets me work from home most days. can’t really imagine the volleyball association could figure out a way for you to do the same.”

“yea, but i don’t think i’ll be ready for a family any time soon anyway.”

“you know,” atsumu takes you all by surprise when he croaks out his advice, waving away all of the concern when his frail body racks with coughs. “i didn’t think i was either. but when your mom told me she was pregnant, i was over the moon. nothing in the world made me happier than when you and your brother were born. look at you now. i couldn’t have asked for better kids.”

his words bring more tears to the eyes in the room than the retired setter knows, his wife taking his hand in hers and resting her forehead against it as her shoulders shake with sobs. not one to be outdone, his brother peels his eyes open to glance around the room before settling on his own sons and their kids. 

“and i couldn’t have left the shop in better hands either. i’m glad you took your time to figure out what you wanted to do with your lives. you’ve made me so proud,” osamu reaches out to run his thumb under his wife’s eye, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “we did good, love.”

her hands come up to clasp his against her wet cheek, “we sure did. do you still remember what their first words were?”

osamu shuts his eyes again and hums, “it was one word with a joint effort. and it just had to be onigiri of all things.”

“samu would not shut up about it for weeks,” his older twin makes chuckles rise around the room. 

“you weren’t much better when hana first said ‘dada,’ tsumu,” he scoffs.

“at least ryuki made my whole year when he made ‘mama’ his first word.” 

“remember when dad taught us how to make onigiri for mother’s day?”

“at least one of us picked up the culinary skills that run in our family.”

“and between us two, one of us got the more athletic genes, too.”

“i’m happy with my simple life and job and family, thank you very much. besides, i distinctly remember being way better than you at volleyball when we were growing up.”

“that’s not what i remember! you sucked at serving, ryu! you’d always hit the net during youth club practice.”

“nuh uh!”

“you know, i think i remember the same thing, hana.”

“why are you all ganging up on me?”

between the bickering and the reminiscing, only their wives notice the content smiles spreading across the oldest twins’ faces, each of them grasping their hands tightly as tears stream ceaselessly down their weathered cheeks. and only they hear the words whispered their husbands’ parting breaths.

“i had the better life.”

xv. || mlist

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai-taglist @honey-makki @kenmaki @inarizakied @aruhappy @goodpop9 @tris-does-stuff @its-the-aerieljeane @callmekda @navymacaroons @tinystarks @luckypartyranchmug @chibichab @bjbex @heauxzenji @anejuuuuoy @semi-g0th @lets-go-datehoe @tsukkisfatsimp @newfriendjen @bigdickdaichi

final notes: to my moots, thank you for being such amazing people. you never fail to inspire me to improve and write more.

to my taglist loves, thank you for every comment, reblog, and like you've left on every chapter of this baby. i hope the epilogue has lived up to your expectations.

to all my readers, thank you for all your support whenever the algorithm happens to drop my content on your dash. you all have my heart.

join my general taglists for future content ♡

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 1

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 2.1 k

next >

series masterlist

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

SIX MONTHS AGO

“Wait a second, really?” You blinked up at the Chief Editor, your boss, in wonder. “Heading this?” 

The chocolate skinned, tall woman smiled at you. “Yes, heading this. I’d been looking to hand you something from a really long time, to be honest. This is just the right fit."

You grinned at her, hugging the contract file to your chest. In your thirteen months of employment at the publishing company, through the departmental transfer from HR to Editorial and then the promotion to the Associate Editor position, this was the best thing to happen to you, so far. You finally had a project you were gonna head. You would finally, finally get to handle things on your own—curate your own team, work on an individual project where you made all the decisions.

You breathed out, happily. “I’ll read this thoroughly and report back within an hour, boss. With my sign on it, in all likelihood.”

“I’m counting on it.” Your boss smiled at you.

You looked down at the file. You were going to work with a K-pop group on their auto-biography. You were gonna fly to fucking Korea, for six full months. This was huge. This was awesome. This was what you fucking needed, right now. Your best friend that you had been rooming with for a year was starting to get too comfortable. You were so not up for that kinda shit again.

You looked at the bottom of the front page. Athena had drawn up this contract. Your eyebrows arched. It was no secret that she was your boss’s favourite Acquisition Editor. Some even suspected they were having an affair, despite the gleaming diamond you could see—even right now—on the woman’s finger. 

This project had to mean a lot to your boss. And she’d picked you to head it.

“This sounds big, boss,” you mumbled, leafing through the hefty files. You were gonna need a couple hours, maybe, to go through this properly. “And looks big, too.”

“It is big, Y/N. In all the ways. This idea had been brewing in my head for a really long time. I had Athena make the proposal to this K-pop group’s management company, a few months back, and they said yes. She and I had been brainstorming how to approach this. Those guys are pretty tight about their privacy and, um, well. Fraternising policies. It’s all in there, you’ll see.” She pointed a finger at the file in your hands. “We were finally able to draw up the contract with the company’s CEO and Manager. And you were the only one I had in mind when we thought up of building a team and having someone head it so that we don’t have to leave.”

You gave a small, delighted giggle. “Thank you so much, boss. I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know you won’t.”

You got back to your desk and flipped to the first page of the file.

BTS

Your eyes bulged. You had been a busy—and irritable because of all the stupid shit that just constantly kept on happening in your personal life—woman during the past couple of years and really uninvested in anything and everything that had to do with entertainment. This past year had been especially rough ever since your move to the States. You freaking smoked pot when you needed to unwind, what could be worse than that.

But. But—before, when you were a normal, happy woman with a soul, BTS had been kind of a really humongous deal. Did that somehow change in the past couple of years? You strongly doubted it, recalling how huge they’d been growing worldwide, the last time you kept a check. Which you did like crazy.

You momentarily wondered if your boss would still have you as the first consideration if she knew about your crazy ARMY days…

You blinked, coming back from the mental journey, and turned the page. BigHit’s owner was still the same, obviously, but the group members now apparently had individual managers. You blinked, uncomfortable at the knowledge. Reading further, you found something that disturbed you even more.

All the BTS members were done with their Military Service, with Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon having returned from it just this year.

You swallowed, thickly. A lot had changed in the world outside of the one you’d been living in, too, apparently.

You read through the terms and conditions and your duties, thoroughly. Few points were pretty obvious and things you’d been expecting, but some of them made you frown.

You brought one such issue to your boss’s acknowledgement when you were done reading the entire booklet of a contract, nearly two hours later. You were ready to sign the thing, otherwise.

“And? What about it?” Your boss blinked at you, unfazed.

You sighed, and lifted your left hand up, pointing at your empty ring finger. “No ring, no fiance, boss. They want the team members to be at least engaged. I’m as single as it gets.”

She chuckled at that. “Tell me honestly, are you unprofessional enough to fraternise on your job? Such a high profile one, at that?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t think they’d care about what I think, boss, or that they’d even ask.”

Your boss gave an exasperated sigh. “Okay, let me put it in a different way.” You tilted your head to show your interest. “What’s your opinion on relationships, in general?”

You grimaced, unable to help your knee-jerk response. But then you shrugged, trying not to scowl while you said the words you’d started to believe in since the past couple of years. “Well, as I’d informed you through my quite less-than-professional letter at the time of my joining, boss, I think relationships are pointless. Humans keeping relationships beyond professionalism with each other is pointless, actually, because with a personal attachment comes a buckload of expectations, and then it’s just a rabbit hole down the middle of the earth. At the end of which, we burn.”

Your boss seemed to be suppressing laughter. Did the moral of your life amuse her? “You actually quoted the letter word by word, there, Y/N.”

You sighed. “That wasn’t something I’d thought through when I mailed it, boss. The voice input tool turned my rants into a letter. And my frustration over your concerns about fraternising in the office made me mail it.”

Your boss nodded. “Well, I talked to BigHit’s manager over the phone. The company’s not the group’s,” she added when you frowned in confusion at the singular term. “I explained to him about where you stood—taking references from this letter—and explained to him why I needed my most valuable Associate on the team.”

Your cheeks heated up, both due to the huge praise and embarrassment over the exposure of your letter. “Oh, um. Thank you. I guess?”

“Ugh, sign the damn piece of paper and start collecting the damn team, Y/N!”

You’d resorted to staying back at the office till late hours just to avoid your roommate.

When you’d moved to the country, thirteen months back, and decided to share your decade old friend’s flat—feeling lucky as shit that he worked in the same city as you—you and him had been on the same page. You’d both been fed up with the concepts of relationships and entanglements, even the strictly-physical ones, and wanted to just burn away your youth on the grind and pot-smoking weekends.

But then, gradually, you noticed the shift in him. He was trying to get into your pants. It could not end well.

It wasn’t to say you weren’t attracted to him. You’d jump the gorgeous guy’s bones in a heartbeat, in an alternate universe. But in this one, you’d had a first hand experience of ruining multiple friendships, and you so did not wanna risk another.

That idiot didn’t get it, though.

Hence why you were brainstorming your project’s team at ten oclock of the night in your nearly empty office building.

“Any luck?” Your okay-ish colleague—the least clingy out of the lot—peered at your spreadsheet over your shoulder.

“Why the heck are you so against it, Sana?” you groaned into your palm, frustrated.

“Because I’m ARMY!” she said in an aghast tone.

“So? Dude, that’s nearly 70% of the earth’s population, at this point, I’m guessing.”

“Um, maybe, but. I don’t trust myself to be professional, Y/N,” she morosely mumbled, dropping into an empty chair on the table next to you.

You looked at her from above your glasses. “Why the heck not?”

She ducked her head, her honey blonde hair covering almost all of her face. But you still spotted the red that bloomed across her face. “Because I have a crush on Yoongi, the size of freaking America, Y/N!”

“What? What? That’s your reason?" You covered your mouth with a hand to hold back your laughter. "Lame fucking reason, Sana!” You glared at her when she nervously looked back at you. “Get your shit together, and pack your bags. And give me your husband’s number, I wanna tell him something.”

You hadn’t imagined that picking out five people from a group of thirty would be this hard. You had spent an entire week literally running after these people to convince them. They were all married or engaged save for one, who had plans of proposing to his boyfriend a few months later, during Valentine’s before you convinced him to do it now so that he’d be able to join the team.

You’d come up with a total of four women and two men, including Sana, that were all fluent in Korean. That was kinda one of the biggest prerequisites, other than being in a committed relationship. You’d briefed the lot of them about what was to be done on this trip, who you were dealing with, and how long you’d be off for. They were all on board, now, and the only thing required was your boss’ approval.

And now you were all standing in the Chief Editor’s cabin, waiting for her to finish reviewing the team members’ profiles you’d collected and presented to her.

Your brain was nearly short circuited, at this point. If she said she wasn’t happy with any of your selections you were prepared to tell her to make the new selection herself, because there were only three more married people in this office, and none of them spoke Korean. There were only two more Korean speakers, but they were both female interns who’d be the worst nightmares to put on this project.

You looked at the six people standing next to you, all looking a varied degree of nervous.

But your boss looked impressed as she perused the file. She beamed at all of you, and then nodded. “Prepare for a six months’ stay, people, and prepare to do your best there. The only two real rules to remember are to keep it all a secret until the BigHit people are ready to disclose the news, and not fall in love.”

You all grunted in barely concealed annoyance at the last part, excluding Sana who bit her lip. You rolled your eyes. “It’d be a bigger concern for their partners than it would be to you, if that happens, boss. Don’t worry. We’re all a bunch of professionals, here.” You reassured your boss, shooting a glare at a fidgety Sana. 

“I have complete faith in y’all. Now, off you go. Brush up your Korean, spend time with your partners.” She looked at you. “Or just, you know, catch up on lost sleep. You fly to Seoul this Friday.”

Three days from now, oh God.

You all trickled out of your boss’ cabin with furrowed foreheads. You had the most workload out of them all, though, because in addition to preparing to spend six months in a foreign land, you also were to prepare a formal itinerary for said six months. You, of course, were clear on the details because they were mentioned in the contract, but writing them out for your team would definitely take a lot of time.

You briefly wondered if you should employ Sana’s help, before quickly deciding against it. It wouldn’t do you any good to do anything to sway your professional relationship by asking for personal favours.

“Hey, Y/N, all okay?” Simon, the guy that was proposing to his boyfriend early because of you, asked you when you dropped into your office chair with a huge thump.

You turned to scowl at him. “You guys have got to stop asking me that all the time! When have you ever gotten a good answer?”

Simon’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “My bad.”

You kept squinting at his retreating figure. Another member of your team met your eye, before quickly scrambling away.

You hummed in thought. Did they all think you were a bitch? Maybe you were.

Good. It’d do you some good in Korea.

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

next >

series masterlist

Tags: @tangledsparkles​

[oftenderweapons]

The Power Couple - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.0k words

Genre: (hinted/mild) smut, fluff, (JK’s a tiny bit angsty but also humour), 

Rating: suggested 18+

Hi, I’m finally back with the maknae line version. I thought I would have loved to explore how the couple would interact in more public situations, especially when under pressure because of fan, photographers and press, what kind of vibe would they emit, what they would do, whether they felt nervous etc.  TRIGGER WARNINGS: smut, only mentioned or suggested, with some mildly kinky stuff going on in Jimin’s scenario (that boy is filthy as hell), Taehyung is in Love™️, please don’t kill his vibe (and don’t bite his head off), softest angst in Jungkook’s piece, slight invasion of privacy, insecure Googie who wished he were a normal boy feat. mild exhibitionism and very loving Lowkey Kinky girlfriend. 

Enjoy!

Here you can find the hyung line

And here you can find my masterlist

Jimin

The first thing you noticed was the fans, phones out, recording and snapping pictures of you.

The second thing you noticed was the little groups of celebrities, influencers and models chatting, exchanging greetings and fashionable “bisoux”. It actually intimidated you.

“Don’t worry about those. We steer away. I’ll just say hi to a few friends. You’ll like them, they’re not that bad.” He said with a teasing grin.

You were at Paris Fashion Week, attending Chanel’s special runway, with your amazing boyfriend. He had personally styled your look, your matching apple green skirt and jacket paired with a plain white t-shirt. At your feet a very daring combination of white ankle socks and black leather loafers. On your slightly tanned skin -- thanks to your holiday together -- the palette of colours looked absolutely amazing, giving you a fashionable but also a classic look. His signature all-black look today was made of skinny black pants, a sleeveless turtleneck tucked in and, just like you, black leather loafers.

You were actually pretty glad he had that turtleneck in his luggage: explaining the bruises on his neck would have been impossible. Paris, Jimin and champagne were a deadly combination for your libido and it had been sheer luck that you had managed to exit the room this morning. You had spent the last twenty hours or so in bed, macarons delivered to your suite together with wine and chocolate covered strawberries. As if you hadn’t just spent a week in the middle of nothing, on a private island, enjoying nothing but each other, someplace where Jimin could just hang out naked all day long, being nothing but your pet, making as much noise as he wanted. And you had enjoyed listening to his every whine and scream. It had been amazing.

Coming back to civilization had made you jumpy, and seeing him back to his usual social butterfly personality slightly ticked you off. Your own personality didn’t quite fit the socialite in the spotlight, and you weren’t absolutely comfortable with the way everyone seemed focused on the two of you.

The photographers kept calling his name and he kept stopping for them, looking at you with nothing but sin in his eyes, his intentions unmistakeable. He let his fingers dance on your inner wrist, knowing how that makes your skin tingle and your nerves catch fire.

How could you possibly let that brat go unnoticed? Of course you would remember this for later, when you'd be back to your room. Still, when he stopped once more, putting his hand on your waist, you latched your thumb on one of his back belt loops, the rest of your hand spread wide on his glute and hip. The half coy, half obscene smirk on his face made you melt a little more, and you felt embarrassed that such a small thing had you actually turned on. He bit his lip. Little teasing brat.

You entered the venue after a few greetings to glossy-haired, glass-skinned demigods, wide california smiles plastered on their faces, beautiful and scary. Jimin was polite as usual, dismissing some guys with a cold, formal manner. As you sat on front row, he bent to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his plump lips. “You look beautiful. The only true queen out there.” He nuzzled in your hair. “Can I put my hand on your leg or will you drag me to the closest bathroom to eat you out?”

“You are walking on very thin ice, Jiminie.” You replied before laying your hand heavily against his knee, your fingers reaching for his inner thigh. Distracted by your touch he didn’t notice the way you leaned in. “Enjoy sitting while you still can, baby brat.” You smiled innocently, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, come on, what did I do?” Your conversation went on undisturbed, no one around there understanding his native language, except for the bodyguards, who were otherwise occupied, or who were not interested in your anthem.

“I’ll make you a list once we’re in our room.” Once more he used his flirty smile on you. “And trust me, no chance of you getting away with it this time.” You continued.

Suddenly you were interrupted by a photographer, asking you for a picture. You posed with a kind smile on your face, Jimin’s arm around your shoulders. “Big smile, kitty.” You said, before the flash lit up and caught him midlaugh, cutely collapsing on your shoulder. The photograper took a few more pictures, thanking you and moving on.

He recomposed himself, drawing closer this time. You grabbed his chin with two fingers delicately. You could only imagine what everyone could think of the two of you. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked, a little roughly.

He giggled flirtatiously. You figured all the macarons must have made him sweetly poisonous. “You must love me a lot.” He put his hand on your thigh, contrary to your warnings. “But I love when you manhandle me a little.” He started kneeding on the soft flesh there. “So I really hope you’ll give me the punishment you’ve promised me later--” he stopped and exhaled sinfully, “-- mommy.”

For the rest of the show he was restless in his chair, impatient to have you again.

Taehyung

“Oh my god, Namjoon will bite my head off if we’re late.”

“Is my lipstick okay?” You asked panicked.

He came up close, staring at your lips. “You’re incredible. It’s perfect.”

“I should have bitten your head off.”

“Such a shame you love it.” He commented with an arrogant smile. He helped you up and leaned against your ear. “You love both of them.” He said, tucking himself in and fixing his clothes.

Of course he was right. Of course you were just done taking him in your mouth, trusting him enough not to mess your dress. It was an avalanche of deep blue chiffon. Tonight you were attending a charity event in a popular art gallery celebrating the opening of a new building for recreational use. Your dress resembled the dark twirls of Van Gogh’s starry skies, punctuated with small rhinestones; Taehyung had bought it for you, leaving it on your bed before you got ready for the event. When you had seen it you had felt slightly conflicted between your own pick and his choice, but seeing his own blue silk tuxedo, you gave up any hesitation, slipping into the dress -- which unsurprisingly fit you perfectly -- after letting him choose your underwear first.

“Do I look messed up?” You asked again, at which he fixed a loose strand of your hair delicately before bending down to kiss you. The kiss wasn’t chaste at all.

“I wished we had more time...” He commented, accompanying you to the ensuite and turning you towards him, fixing your makeup under your eyes and on your chin.

“Do you think they’ll notice if I get under your dress during dinner?” He grinned and tapped a humid towel around your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Depend on whether I can keep a straight face or not.” You caressed his face and caught his wrists.

“Well, then we’re fucked.” Yeah, his head game was that strong. No keeping a straight face at that. And he knew.

You laughed together at that. You looked at yourself in the mirror. “God, I need to know what lipstick she used. It’s still there. No smudge, no stain. It’s perfect.”

“That’s because you’re perfect.” He kissed your forehead. “Let’s go. They’re gonna kill us.”

“We’re not that late. Plus I’m sure we can still beat Jimin.” You grabbed your purse on the way out of the bedroom.

“Wait babe.” He said, “I--” He had been distracted. This should have gone in a very, very different way.

You stilled, waiting for him to talk. “Tonight might be difficult.” He wished he had been patient. He wished he had more time. The plan was to give you something that might keep everyone off you. Insecurity invaded him. All the men who would be seeing you tonight… The small box felt heavy in his hand. “And I--” God, he had a talk, a whole discourse. “Just, it’s not like-- I intend to do this properly, sometime in the future. This is just-- A promise thing. I want us to wear these.” He fumbled with the lock, his eyes blowing wide open as the box fell to the floor and a tinkling sound echoed in the hall.

You threw yourself at it, noticing the thick platinum band covered in blue shiny stones rolling on the floor. You saved it right before it hid under the wardrobe.

In the meantime he had clutched the box to his chest, protecting the other half of the pair with his body.

You smiled widely. Rings. Actual rings.

“It’s not like, wedding. Though I absolutely intend to. I mean, to propose. Not today.” He sounded like a broken record, his words interrupted and mechanic. “It means I love you, and you got me, and I got you. That’s all.” He looked like a lost puppy.

"Come here, darling." You say quietly.

He looks absolutely terrified, approaching you like you were about to punish him.

"I love you. And I really hope that someday we will be wearing another kind of matching rings." You kissed his scrunched brow. "Let me put this on you, yes?"

He offered you his hand.

"I don't want to promise too much. I can only promise that I'll always take care of you, protect you and be loyal to you." You slipped his band on.

"Uhm--" He fumbled with the box some more until you held it for him as his shaking hand took off the ring. The thin circlet was lined with small blue crystals, dominated by a bigger stone of the same colour. The overall blue theme was really soothing, and it was also what kept it from looking too much like a proposal ring.

"____, I promise you to give my heart to you, and to hold yours with care, I promise to stay close to you and love you as long as you allow me to." His voice was deep but slightly shaking, which made you really emotional.

You offered him your hand, helping you wear the ring.

You observed how it fit you. You knew it wasn't sheer luck. He probably had taken one of your rings for measurements.

You smiled at him and intertwined his hands. "Joon is going to kill us."

"He's a sucker for romance, he'll probably get teary eyed." He commented. Taehyung kissed your cheek. "Let's go, I've got a beautiful girlfriend to show to the world." His smile was radiant.

Jungkook

"Baby, can you please come?" He called you to the sofa. Probably he just wanted some company while he was playing games. Maybe he just wanted someone to play with.

You reached the end of the corridor leading from the bedrooms to the open space living room. "What's up Koo?"

"Look."

A gossip TV-show was talking about the two of you and your recent holiday.

"The couple was spotted in an exclusive resort in Thailand, the BTS member spoiling his partner with a sweet summer getaway. As you can see they had plenty of time for some steamy romance on the beach." The description was accompanied by a small clip of you kissing, water lapping around your calves, the whole picture absolutely innocent and appropriate, and of course the press had to spice things up, exaggerating everything about the two of you. "The sweethearts have also been caught sharing a bit more than an innocent smooch during a canoeing excursion." And of course you weren't canoeing, but rather paddle boarding, you resting your head on Jungkook's chest as you basked in the sun. These people were outright ridiculous.

"They must be desperate for a scoop." You commented, sitting beside Jungkook, as he cuddled into you. "Are you okay baby?"

"I'm just thinking what if we had been less careful?"

You kissed his head and caressed his hair softly. "But we were careful."

"I almost fucked you on the beach." He lifted his head from his chest.

"Having a hard on and pressing it against my bum while kissing my neck is hardly almost fucking, Koo." You touched his neck and shushed him back towards your bosom.

"We've been dating publicly for like a month and we've already been on the news four times."

"God, the strip club scandal was exhilarating." You reckoned.

"The whole picture was a work of art." He commented. "After the fright I kinda hoped I could meet the one who photoshopped it."

"Do you think they could send us a copy? It looked so hot," you said appreciatively.

"You looked so hot, with that cliché pink bob cut." He looked up at you from under his lashes.

"Got a new kink, baby? Stripper role play?" You smiled teasingly.

He blushed violently. "Not really. But you really looked hot with that hair." He toyed with your loose locks. "Even though I love your hair long."

"I can only wonder why." You let him in his comfort zone, still cuddling him.

"And then that time they spotted us outside the hotel."

"As if we needed an hotel to get laid." He said, half disappointed.

"And I was wearing your sweater, don't forget the kinky detail." You joked as he broke in giggles. "'Cause of course, if I'm wearing your sweater we must have done the nasty."

He started laughing even more. "Done the nasty, God that actually broke me."

"Next time we meet for lunch with my parents we'll tell them we're doing the nasty." You murmured in sarcasm.

"My mother called me that night asking me why I was taking you to an hotel when we've been sharing an apartment for almost a year." He said. "I told her we were there to meet your parents. She said she was glad I could get laid at my place."

You both exploded in laughter. His mom is great.

"Did you tell her you tried to corrupt me on a beach in Thailand?" You joked some more.

"Fuck, she'd laugh her eyes off." He kissed your breastbone innocently.

"They love making a fuss about us." You commented, combing his hair delicately.

"I don't understand why they can't let us be. If I want to take you bare against my window that's our fucking business. Wanna get naked in a private beach in the middle of nowhere, fucking let me!" He was getting upset and he sounded so absurdly cute.

"Bare against a window, uh?"

He blushed to the tip of his ears, half frustrated, half shy.

You loved his cute slip ups, when his more dominant persona jumped out.

"It's-- You know, we don't have to do it, I was just saying it as a joke." But his shy expression said otherwise.

"I don't oppose to it." You replied quietly.

He shuddered a little, but changed the topic of the conversation. "Sometimes I just wished it only the two of us. I wished we could just be two kids twenty and in love."

You already knew what he would say next. "No, I just want this strange normality with you. No other man could love me like you, you know it. And I don't want anything but you. But this."

This time you ignored all the sweet pressing of lips for an intense kiss, mouth against mouth, your hand already insinuating under his sweater.

"I promise you I'll find a more private location next time we go in holiday." He murmured, his voice covered in guilt.

"It's okay. As long as you're okay with it. We're a power couple. They can't help but watch."

"You looked incredible with that bikini, it would have been a shame if they didn't look." He kissed your jaw.

He meditated in silence for a couple seconds. You waited for him to drop his idea. "Do you think they'll see if we do the nasty in our balcony?"

You both laughed out loud. "Let's go."

[deafmatteo]

hi! i always love your posts and the way you look at things so i’ve been wondering if you would like to talk about your criticism towards s3 and the things that you didn’t like?

hello! i have a couple anons about this so here we go! not gonna lie, i’ve been wanting to talk about this for AGES. i just kept quiet until the holier than thou druck s3 fans were more out of the fandom to get properly into it.

let me preface with that i absolutely adore season three and it is something that i hold so so close to my heart because it’s a reality i live & seeing it displayed in a loving and caring manner that wasn’t fetishized or as heavy on the trauma porn as usual trans media was a very big thing. however... (adding a read more because this shit got long).

1. the outing scene. this scene was written solely for cis people and it was trauma porn. this was evident by the fact there was no trigger warning and it is something that happens to a lot of trans people and is extremely triggering. being outed like that, even as a non-straight cis person, can be life or death in some circumstances—this is increased when it comes to trans people. this scene was used to further matteo’s “acceptance” of david rather than talk about why david even moved in the first place. this was the moment that matteo chose to be with david but it should have been framed in another moment.

2. how long it took for matteo to get back to david after david told him he was trans. not only this but he also watched one video where it was a cis person talking about what it means to be transgender. he could have gone to the source? the person who TOLD him? i understand that they wanted to have the exploration and have hans be this “gay guru” for him but it was poorly executed. it would have done much better to have the boys talk about david being trans BEFORE having sex. being trans impacts a big part of the relationship (especially in a trans/cis one) and it’s something that should have been talked about beforehand.

3. the lack of address to matteo’s mental health. this one doesn’t bother me as much anymore because i now see it as this “matteo doesn’t recognize how he’s feeling isn’t normal & he needs to get help” but during the season, it kept rubbing me wrong. he was abusing substances when he thought he had been rejected. that is not a normal reaction to being rejected. he also spiralled to the point where he looked ill, continually needed to buy more weed, his room became a disaster, and i’m willing to bet he didn’t eat that much at all. he hollered at his friends when we know that he’s generally laid back and calm. also, the scene with hanna. that is NOT a normal sadness to being rejected. however, i was talking to my boyfriend, and he said that it was likely that they were trying to frame it as him spiralling due to the struggle with his sexuality & being isolated which i agree with! i think it was just poorly executed and they could have included a clip talking about the impact of that on someone’s mental health.

4. the overall lack of addressing matteo cheating on sara. i am tired of these cheating dynamics. that’s all.

5. this is just a personal one but the cartoon of them driving to detroit that david sent felt SO out of character for me. don’t get me wrong, that clip is one of my absolute favourites because you see how matteo interacts with the boy squad, the giddiness of seeing david, the power of having them hug rather than sex—it’s all wonderful. but the drawing? after he had just spent so much time practically destroying every aspect of the budding relationship. i know they needed a way to get matteo and david to finally talk about but this just bugged me a wee bit.

6. the lack of addressing to the teacher’s transphobia. really? solved in one clip by the principal being like “let him redo the test” and the teacher being like “ok”. i know that this happened in the last week or so, so they were trying to tie up all the loose ends but it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

7. this one again is a more personal one but it rubbed me wrong how little we actually saw of david. all other evens were more present in the seasons despite it being more about the isaks’ journey of realizing his sexuality and coming to terms with it. we got very little davenzi time compared to other remakes when the story was about matteo falling in love with a trans guy & coming to terms with his sexuality as a gay man. there could also be the topic of changing the “mentally ill pan guy” to the “transgender pan guy” could be seen as wrong but it didn’t bother me as much because i think it was the best season to do this with.

8. no clip the day after david was outed. nothing. radio silence. someone has just been violently outed to their brand new school and you showed that to your audience in a triggering manner and went SILENT? hmm. no. no thank u.