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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

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lavender latte x (no longer canon)

NOTE: Chapters X and XI are not longer considered canon in Lavender Latte.

...

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

|| series masterlist ||

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks (thank u!!! 💗)

the softness after the storm

warnings: reference to the panic attacks/dissociation of the last few chapters, fragile reader, mostly fluff. so much fluff. nesting too.

...

hello <3 ll is alive and well to the point where... i made another mega chapter that i had to split, so here’s the first chunk! just lots of softness, hurt/comfort and fluff. both of u need it. we all need it right now. find some comfort if u can loves 💗

(psst-- thank you all for sticking around for this series, i adore you all with my whole heart!!!!!!)

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After all of the noise and pain of the morning, Keigo and you stayed twisted in each other for a long time.

You both needed it, the softness and heat of the other.

You clung onto him, taking in big gulps of his smell and presence as he tethered you to earth purely by breathing and living.

You were precious to Keigo, more than anything.

As tender as the time together was, he couldn’t forget that what preceded it was not only traumatic but induced by trauma.

It worried him, to his core.

That protective flare quieted, somewhat, but never truly went away. Keeping you in his arms, whispering new ‘I love you’s and being able to comfort you certainly helped, but he knew he’d need to examine that part of himself more thoroughly.

It was new, strong, and ran deep.

His mental musings dissolved when you trembled particularly hard in his arms, his gut twisting.

He placed a few slow, kind kisses where he could reach, rubbing his fingers into the tension in the fat above your hips, “You’re okay, (Y/N), we’re safe.”

“A-are you sure?” You asked softly, again, trying to tug Keigo closer.

He nodded, nuzzling into your hair, “I promise.”

It worried him, how much reassurance you were asking for. He gave it freely, of course, as it was not only the truth, but feeling some of the tension drain from your body with his words felt good.

He knew you just needed to feel grounded.

“I love you,” You barely looked up at him, eyes shining.

His heart ached as he gently pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss, something deeper, like those you had been sharing all day as you both unwound.

You grabbed at his face, stuttering breaths into his mouth as he gathered you up by your waist.

“I love you too, dove. So much,” Keigo spoke between kisses, hands dipping just below your waistband, only to massage at any tension he could find. “I’ve gotcha’.”

You stifle something like a sob, cuddling back into him, your light trembling somewhat dulled.

It felt good to say ‘love you’s to Keigo.

But, physically?

You felt like shit

Your hand and leg ached. The adrenaline lingered in your system, making your body shake out of your control and sleep impossible to reach, as exhausted as you were. That wasn’t even to mention the headache you had from crying for so long and the lack of food and caffeine in your body.

Keigo smoothed a hand over your back, setting it at the base of your skull, “How are you feeling?”

“Gross,” You mumbled, keeping your eyes shut and mentally blessing the darkness Keigo provided. “Sort of awful.”

“I can imagine,” Keigo squeezed your sides. “Do you want some water?”

“S-sure.”

Keigo immediately helped you sit up against your headboard, a fresh bottle of water pressed into your hand. You appreciated that it wasn’t glass, just an old plastic one you’d had hidden away in a cupboard.

You sipped greedily, the water feeling far too cold in your stomach. You frowned.

“I think I need to eat, even if I don’t feel like I need to,” You said quietly, folding your hands in your lap.

“Would you like me to help with that?” Keigo asked softly.

You nodded.

Keigo hummed again, something low and sweet that made your eyes go half-lidded as you leaned against him.

“How about this?” He tapped the top of the water bottle. “I’m still stuck in my hero uniform, so I can run home and grab a change of clothes, sleepover stuff, some food, and whatever else you need and then we camp out for the rest of the day?”

The thought of being able to nest with Keigo for the rest of the day was heavenly.

“You want to stay the night?” You asked, confirming, flickering your gaze up nervously.

Despite the dulling of it all, it was obvious you were still frayed.

It broke Keigo’s heart.

“Of course,” Keigo beamed you the best smile he could, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll hold you all night, keep you safe, dove, the whole bit.”

You didn’t reply, not verbally. All you could do was sag in his arms, nodding and pressing small kisses to his covered collar bones.

“Can you stay a little longer now?” You sniffled, curling around him. “Just a little.”

His chest ached with how fragile you sounded.

“However long you need, dove, promise,” Keigo pulled you close, into his lap and wrapped what he could of his wings and feathers around your shoulders.

...

Keigo departed an hour or so later, sometime near noon. He helped you into the living room, draping a blanket over your shoulders and putting the plushie into your arms.

He knelt in front of you, squeezing your hands, “I won’t be long, promise.”

You bit your lip, nodding.

“Can I ask something?”

“Anything, dove.”

“Can I have one of your feathers, while you’re gone?”

Keigo’s heart panged so hard in his chest, it felt like a bell toll vibrating to the tips of his fingers.

A few of his plumes fell into and around your lap, softened and rippling.

“Of course, dove, bare minimum,” He pressed a few kisses to your knuckles. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You were already sinking into the cushions of the couch, eyes tired and wide, “Thank you, Keigo. I love you.

“I love you too, angel.”

He kissed your forehead before taking off from your balcony.

...

You were so tired.

Quickly, you fell onto the couch, eyes half-lidded, but your body was still too restless for sleep.

You felt like human vibration, sticky and wrong. As much as the anxiety of the earlier day had died down, you still shook with the physical and mental aftershocks of it all.

It made you that much more thankful that Keigo was staying.

You were self-aware enough to be coming to terms with that you needed a fucking therapist.

Not that that was a bad thing, but you felt a little dumb for not thinking about it sooner. As soothing as Keigo’s kindness was, you knew it wasn’t a cure. All the aches ran too deeply and personally for that.

The thought was shoved off, the lingers of the trauma-spiral making your brain spin again.

You winced, curling around the plushie and Keigo’s lingering feathers.

Still raw.

You shuddered, cursing that you still hadn’t stopped shaking, hadn’t stopped flinching—

It’s not that easy, you reminded yourself.

You made a mental note to thank Keigo profusely for dealing with you in such a fragile state.

Keigo had flown back to his penthouse, shucking off his uniform in favor of a pair of joggers and a loose, cropped sweater. His wings stretched up and out from the specially-made slits, still sparse from the day prior. Notably, taking a day off was probably a good thing for himself. He could still feel the aches of his own exhaustion, worse than its normal perpetual throb, from his recent healing.

As he gathered his things around the penthouse, he was acutely aware of you and your physical state from the feathers he left behind. Considering he was practically on the other side of the city, the sensations were fairly dull, but undeniably there.

The flutter of your heart and the shaking of your body were unmistakable and unavoidable.

Keigo remained on edge, jaw set. There was a constant flood of newly unsuppressed feelings around you that he genuinely didn’t know what to fucking do with.

Mainly, the big, lurking need to protect you.

It wasn’t like his instinct to fix up the world and save civilians with a smile on his face. All of that was different, ultimately rooted in his primary goal of allowing himself rest—

No, around you, it was the deep, carnal need to keep you safe.

Hence why the shuddering of your limbs against the faraway feathers was so hard to ignore.

Despite how much Keigo wanted to call you, check-in despite the fact he’d been gone for maybe twenty, he took a moment to collect himself.

Carefully, Keigo took some pointed breaths, wings and shoulders sagging.

He could only do so much.

He knew enough about hurt and pain to understand that he couldn’t stitch you up, no, that was a terrible idea. Sometimes you just had to hurt before you could feel better.

Keigo made a mental point to stay with you through it all, to try and support and comfort you where he could, like he had been.

It satisfied enough of that instinct that he could’ve purred.

He grabbed his phone, sending off a text before flying from his balcony once more.

[birdboy <3]: hey angel ;^) i’m gonna pick u up some surprises

[birdboy <3]: good stuff

[birdboy <3]: i’ll be back very soon

[birdboy <3]: love u!! <3!!

You smiled at the texts, taking a shaking breath and burrowing deeper. You sent off your own I love you, antsy with your lack of him. Ultimately, you wanted Keigo to be back soon, but being alone for a little while was probably good.

It allowed you some precious moments of self-soothing.

You were fine, you reminded yourself. Nothing in your apartment was harmful. You were safe, despite the adrenaline and remnants of fear.

Now was the time for rest.

You pushed off the couch, grabbing your crutches and started to make a plan.

It wasn’t a difficult one, mainly scrutinizing the layout of your bedroom in conjunction to the size of your TV.

Making your way to the kitchen was difficult, some fear still boiling in you as you approached.

You sighed in relief when you noticed the spotless sink and counters.

Keigo must’ve cleaned up.

You reminded yourself aloud to thank him later.

Shuffling to a nook in the counter, you grabbed a small metal tin, two mugs, and two tea strainers. The tea blend you’d grabbed was one you’d been reaching for often enough that you’d started to just keep it at an arm's reach.

You popped the lid, sucking down the floral fragrance with a sigh.

Shaky as you were, you could do this much.

You gave yourself a little smile and got to work.

Keigo was busy as well, dashing around town to gather what he could.

He didn’t tend to... shop. Most of those needs were met with delivery services and online ordering as it tended to be so much easier than being the number two pro hero out in public and trying to be ‘casual’ with two massive pairs of red wings.

It was slightly better, consider how they were still plucked from the day prior.

He flew from store to store, trying his best to be quick at dodging his fans, repeating that he was having a ‘self-care day’ in the wake of getting so beat up.

It wasn’t really a lie.

His final stop, feathers towing a few bags behind him, was picking up one of your comfort foods, a smile growing on his face.

Keigo knew that all he was doing wouldn’t make you feel better in the way that a few fragments of him wanted it to. Part of him wanted to save you—

But that’s not how people work.

And he knew that.

Instead, he’d just be there.

That felt far better than agonizing about wounds too deep for even you, their bearer, to fully perceive.

Keigo shook his head as he neared your apartment once more, your sounds and movements becoming stronger against the feathers he’d left behind.

You jumped at the clear ‘thump’ echoing from your balcony, but were quickly soothed as the door slid open, revealing a soft-smiling Keigo.

He was on you in an instant.

Carefully, notably.

He was falling onto the couch next to you, a bundle of feathers resituating themselves to his wings as he tugged you into his arms.

Keigo winded his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he could manage while peppering little kisses on your cheeks.

As saturated and sticky as your mind was, his firm touch and the feather-light brushing of his lips made your body thrum in a pleasant way. His contact was soothing the fresh burns and you let it.

“I missed you.”

It was a mutual sentiment.

He squeezed you, tight, a broad wing wrapping around you both.

“What did you end up doing?” You asked, voice soft and filled with a lingering weakness.

Keigo directed you with a glance to the several bags stacked by the door.

“I used a bit of my hero’s paycheck to treat you, a little extra comfort,” Keigo hummed, nosing into your hair.

“You didn’t have to—”

Keigo quieted you with a quick kiss, a hand dipping under your shirt to smooth up your spine.

“Hush, let me spoil you,” His lips quirked up as he spoke. “You deserve it, you know. Not to mention, I’m more than able to.”

He wasn’t wrong.

You’d subconsciously shoved down the thought, avoiding ogling at Keigo’s obvious wealth. He had to be loaded, money wouldn’t be an issue.

You thought for a moment, turning over the idea as your anxiety stirred, the ambient quaking of your body picking up.

“Today has sucked.”

Part of you felt guilt, overwhelmingly.

Keigo had done so much for you already, physically and emotionally.

It was a short-lived feeling as you met his gaze.

It made you feel so damn precious.

You’d seen Keigo smile for photos and on billboards, but it was nothing like the ones he gave you. His expression was all that warmth and honey that you loved about him, delivered through the melted-cores of his eyes.

And it clicked.

You said nothing, knowing that the conversation and implication of it all made your heart swell so much, it ached.

“Okay, just this once, okay? And you gotta let me treat you to some tea,” You managed a little smile, something small and sacred that made Keigo’s heart swell.

Keigo followed you into the kitchen, shuffling to meet your slow pace. Each of your movements was clearly labored, but you didn’t seem as perturbed as he would've thought.

You hit a button on the electric kettle, fiddling with the stem of the pre-prepared mugs. They already had small, metal balls made of mesh, filled with what leaves and flowers. Set nearby was a carton of oat milk and a jar of honey with a homemade label.

Keigo blinked.

“Did... you put this all together while I was gone?”

“I did,” You nodded easily, eyes drifting to the bubbling of the kettle. “It’s the least I could do, you know?”

Keigo’s gut went into knots, a mix of things that were hard to parse through. Mostly, it was that chest tightening mix of worry and syrupy adoration that he wanted to drown in.

Carefully, yet firmly as he could, he tugged your close by the waist, burying his nose in your hair, “You’re too good.”

“Says you,” You reminded him. “You’re the one who’s been doing the heavy lifting today, birdboy.”

Keigo gently scoffed against your crown, “‘Heavy lifting’? Bare minimum, as far as I know. I like being here and helping you, you know.”

You paused.

“You... do?”

Your words were punctuated by the click of the kettle turning off, the bubble of boiling water slowly dying off.

“Of course,” Keigo replied after a moment of quiet, keeping himself soft. “Is that a... bad thing?”

You reminded yourself that he was new to all of this

“N-no, not at all,” You pressed into him, tighter, closer, ignoring the idle kettle in favor of giving Keigo some much-needed comfort. “It feels nice.”

Some of the tension drained from Keigo as his wings shifted behind him.

“Good,” He dropped yet another kiss into your hair. “It... feels nice. Knowing you’re safe.”

“S-Same,” You stuttered, frowning into Keigo’s chest. “Are you alright, Keigo?”

Your words startled him into silence for a moment.

“I’m not bad if that’s what you’re asking— “

“Deflecting again, are we?”

You managed him a cheeky smile, pulling back to nudge your nose into the stubble at his chin.

“I’m... really grateful you were here today, and are gonna be here,” You squeezed him tighter, hands resting at the base of his wings. “But, you’ve had a pretty tough last twenty-four hours too, you know?”

You weren’t wrong.

“It’s a part of the job, I’ll be alright,” Keigo tried to shush you, but you weren’t having any of it.

You cupped his cheeks in your palms, giving him a little frown, “Keigo, I love you.”

The new words got his heart stuttering in his chest.

“I’m kind of fucked up right now, but I’m still here, okay? For whatever you need.” You reminded him, gracing him with a chaste kiss as punctuation.

Part of Keigo wanted to tug you closer, slip his hands under your shirt and express how much he loved you, but he knew better.

There needed to be a moment of reprieve.

“Thank you, dove,” Keigo wasn’t sure how to fully accept your kindness, but with the smell of earthy flowers wafting and your small smile shining all for him, he was excited to try.

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The rest of the day was a testament to softness.

Keigo had some avian instincts, sure, but the Commission taught him long ago how to suppress the more bothersome traits. One that he had never been able to shake too well was the need to stay bundled up and warm—

Nesting, as it was labeled.

And you were all for it.

Keigo adjusted the TV on top of your cleared-off desk, tilting it so it was perfectly viewable from the bed.

You were half-on your knees, booted foot extended while digging through the bags of softness Keigo had brought.

“These are so fucking good, Keigo!” You held one of the fluffy blankets to your chest before unfurling it. “Absolutely wonderful choices, I have to admit.”

“Happy to please, angel. I grabbed the comfiest ones I could find,” Keigo chuckled, mostly to himself.

He wasn’t the most adept at finding comfort, but he knew a fair amount about surrounding yourself with softness (something he’d been indulging more thoroughly in his private time, after meeting you, of course.)

Something stirred in his chest as he watched you prop up pillows and arrange blankets over your mattress. With it up against the wall, you were able to create a little... nest of sorts.

Keigo’s’ dick twitched.

Calm down, it’s only a little bit cute—

You clamored to the edge of your bed, outstretching a hand with a warm smile, “Come on, tailfeathers, I need your body heat.”

“That all?” Keigo’s chest filled with molten heat as he let you tug him down into the softness you’d made. “Just need me for warmth?”

You hummed, pulling at his forearm to topple him over your lap, “Nah, plenty more. Want me to tell you about it?”

His dick twitched again.

Keigo mused on it, only for a moment.

“As much as I’d love to hear your reasons,” Keigo braced his arms on either side of your head, ducking to whisper in your ear. “I think you need to rest, hm?”

It was your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands, and tired smile that gave you away. Though it was obvious you were in better spirits, exhausted radiated off of you, even if you managed to banter.

You didn’t put up any fight, only nuzzling into his cheek and trailing your lips near his own, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Just ‘maybe’?” Keigo teased, bearing more of his body weight down onto you.

You didn’t reply verbally, just tugged him down by the waistband of his joggers.

“It’s okay,” Keigo said softly, maybe the softest he’d ever spoken, “we’ll just rest.”

“Can you put on something for background noise?��

“Of course, dove,” Keigo smothered you with kisses, littering your forehead and nose with affections wherever he could reach.

As you situated yourself, Keigo now the one repositioning the fluffing and blankets around your bed, his mind wandered.

The amount of vulnerability he showed you was scary, it had been since the beginning. All those subtle glances and remarks that went from weightless flirting to all-out love were new and terrifying.

Yet, Keigo craved it to the point of aching.

As you sipped your tea, nestled between his legs with your back against his chest, that ambient pain was dulled.

Keigo rested his head against your shoulder, nosing below your ear, “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy, now, less shaky,” You replied following a heavy, audible gulp.

It was true, your body had mostly stilled its ambient trembling.

He couldn’t imagine how tired you were.

He also was having trouble acknowledging how tired he was.

Keigo reached to take a sip of his own tea, the smoothness of the honey, oat milk and lavender washing down the back of his throat. The softness of the drink itself was pushing him closer to acknowledging his own exhaustion.

(That was, of course, part of the reason you prepared such a tea, but you kept yourself smitten with your solely known knowledge.)

“Can we try napping again?” You asked, pulling him from your thoughts. The heat of your pressed back into him as you nuzzled the side of his face.

“Of course.”

And so, you nested.

The mugs were set aside, the steam tapering off but still filling the room with aromatics. The lights twinkled dimly, the curtains drawn to keep the afternoon light extinguished. The TV glowed in the corner, moved from your living room to on top of your desk, something ambient and meaningless running to fill the quiet air.

And you held Keigo with all you had.

It took a bit of maneuvering, pillows and plushies being pushed and shoved. Maybe, on a different day, you would’ve been a little self-conscious about all of the softness you were shamelessly surrounding yourself with.

But, that day? You couldn’t care.

As the shakes subsided, your body craved only rest. Keigo offered it up without and second thought, and you drank it in, him in, greedily.

You faced each other, held in the arms of the other, Keigo’s feathers having spread themselves across the ‘nest’ and floor to allow him to accommodate the space a bit better.

Your face was buried in his chest, your hands already snaked under his cropped crew neck and resting below his wings. Every so often, your touch would brush close enough to the base to make him shudder.

You loved how it felt, how he felt next to you.

That was the only real thought you could conjure up in the perfect mess of blankets and softness.

Sleep took you easily after that.

Keigo managed to stay awake a bit longer, thoughts restless but slowing.

He felt a new sort of sated, now that he was curled up with you.

The two of you had cuddled plenty in weeks prior, but nothing that was quite this cozy. With his feathers scattered about the room and nest, blankets pulled up to your chin, for the first time in a long while, he felt truly at peace.

Mostly.

As tired as he was, his mind wandered as he idly stroked along the bare skin of your neck and collar.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your state just hours ago, eyes uncomfortably full, yet vacant in the same moment.

Keigo knew how you felt.

He knew how these sorts of things worked. The way the mind functioned in vulnerable states (and how to exploit them) was something branded into his mind. In the silence of his penthouse, Keigo was smart enough to put together that this was the reason he’d been able to be there for you in the way that he had been.

It was disturbing, thinking about the origin of his ability to comfort you. His roots being in his need to manipulate rather than comfort.

Part of him felt sick with the thought, feathers ruffling and puffing up around the room.

The things he’d been taught and the way they’d been etched into the marble tablet of psyche weren’t good. Even if he valued the skills he’d gained, he had garnered enough agency at some point to put together how the corruption of the Commission infected him.

The thought made him feel dirty, which was why he pushed it back and away so often.

But, now, thinking about the way you shuddered and wailed in his arms, he couldn’t avoid it, an odd poison spreading through his chest.

“Hey,” Your voice slurred with sleep as your hands twitched at his sides. “You’re thinkin’ too hard.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Your heart, silly,” The sound of it was loud in your ears, the thrum far too quick to be calm. “Sounds fast.”

“Caught me,” Keigo gave a weak laugh, smothered into your hair with kisses. “I’m alright. Get some sleep, I’ll be right here.”

“Nuh-uh,” You forced yourself to full wakefulness with a few unpleasant blinks.

You cupped his jaw and searched his face.

...

Keigo was far too good at hiding how he felt.

From his painfully cleansed expression, it was hard to tell what exactly he was really feeling, only that he wasn’t expressing whatever it was.

“Keigo,” You breathed his name. “You deserve to rest. All you gotta do is be here, right now, okay?

Your tired mind was one of its most honest iterations.

Weren’t you right?

“I’m here, always, Keigo.”

“I know,” Keigo sighed with relief, softening against you.

There was so much he couldn’t tell you, especially not yet. Too much knotted up and tied with himself that was too fragile, secret, or buried to be even acknowledged by himself, let alone you.

Not to mention, the Commission and the public had no idea you were a part of his life, and you intended to keep it that way, at least for a while.

Keigo opened his mouth to let loose one last quip, but quickly silenced himself.

You’d already fallen back asleep, maybe even more relaxed, clinging to him with everything you had.

He had always believed he would never let sentiment get his way.

Even the word ‘sentiment’ felt dirty rolling around in his mind.

You weren’t just ‘sentiment’, you were love.

And he loves you.

Keigo drifted off with his warmth and comfort knotted up with your own, relaxing, truly for the first time in a long time.

+++++

💗ko-fi 💗

++++

taglist:

taglist (please send me an ask if you’d like to be added!): @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @mia--merc @call-me-rhee @peach-buns-unicorns @amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidsomewhereelse @themusingsofmany @mariiloei @hecatve @assassinslittlesister @thepuckishrogue

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #salem writes #hawks #takami keigo #my hero academia #mha x reader #hawks imagines #hawks x you #hawks reader insert #lavender latte

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velvetmel0n · 4 years ago

Text

Jasmine Sambac

Summary: You decide to surprise your sugar daddy when he has a late night at work

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9k+. Don’t look at me like that.

Warnings: Sugar daddy!Cassian/sugar baby relationship, age gap probably? don’t worry Reader is at least somewhere in her early/mid twenties it’s fine, spanking, it’s Cassian but with Félix’s hair, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, little bit of dom!Cassian, mutual pining, unrequited (or is it?) love, bit of cum play, the old trenchcoat surprise lingerie trick, unspecified job titles, rough sex, angst if you squint, exactly ONE instance of daddy kink because c’mon he’s a sugar daddy I had to

A/N: If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been the last few days, this fic has consumed my life.

@damerondjarin @okay-hotshot @poeticandors @tintinwrites @darksideofclarke @acomplicatedprofession @lesqui @himbopoes @winters-buck @duamuteffe @ah-callie @paniclana @huliabitch @yougottakeeponkeepinon @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @myguysbsmokin @qveenbvtch @queenofheavenandhell @pascalispedro @agentpike @arcadianempress @beskars @slfreya full disclosure I have no idea who to tag for this

Your cell phone is mocking you.

It’s sitting on the stool you had dragged into your tiny bathroom and it’s been glaringly silent the entire time you’ve soaked in your small bathtub. The water has gone tepid at this point and the ache in your legs from being on your feet all day has faded away, clouds of Epsom salt-scented steam are still hanging in the air and your cell phone is silent.

It had barely been a week since you’d last seen him and already you feel yourself missing him, an almost physical ache that manifested somewhere in the first days without him and it’s stayed with you— you miss his touch, the sound of his voice. You even miss the smell of his cologne and how it rubs off on you, how it follows you home to the shoebox apartment you won’t let him buy you out of.

The water sloshes around you as you crumble, lapping dangerously at the edge while you reach for the towel to dry your hands before you grab your phone. You open your conversation with Cassian, leaning back against the slick tiled wall as you read through the last series of messages. Your heart flutters, maybe stupidly, at the words on your screen. At the promises he makes of what he’s going to do to you or the gifts he’s going to give you, the food he says he’s going to feed you.

Just like the last time you checked, you have no new messages from him— just his customary good morning message that he sends you at an ungodly hour almost every day, the timestamp from today’s reading 4:47am. Not for the first time you wonder if he doesn’t sleep well, trying to mask the concern as curiosity as it looms to the front of your mind. You wonder if he’s stressed, if he’s been losing sleep over the business deal he’s mentioned to you a handful of times when you ask about his work and you feel your heart twist in your chest at the thought of him still cooped up in his office at this hour.

Your teeth dig into your lip as the idea begins to ignite in your mind, an idea that you’ve been playing with ever since your arrangement with Cassian had been cemented what feels like ages ago and you can’t shake it. You don’t have work tomorrow or any prior engagements, there’s no real reason why you shouldn’t. There’s nothing concrete that you can hang onto as an excuse to not go, as if your burgeoning feelings will wash down the drain with the bathwater as long you ignore them, as long as you don’t feed them.

Your thumbs move before you can think better of it, asking if he’s still at the office. Your phone clatters back onto the stool as you stand and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel— one gift that you had bought yourself and you drain the tub. When the water hiccups you can still feel a slow, stubborn warmth suffusing you at the thought of him.

You try not to think about your phone as you dry yourself, trying to take your time and wick every drop of moisture away from your supple skin. The Epsom salts had drawn the aches and pains from your limbs and had softened you to an extent, but it’s not enough, not if you actually go through with the scheme that’s unfurling, becoming more and more extravagant as the moments pass. If you’re going to do this at all you’re going to do this right. And that means breaking out the body oil.

You crouch in front of your sink and pull the cabinet drawers open to be met with a small army of glass bottles full of perfumes and oils that you’ve deemed too special, too decadent for daily use— but this is a special occasion. You fish out a bottle from the back, careful as you grip it. The oil looks barely used because it is, one you reserve even more than the others because it’s one of your favorites.

And Cassian’s.

You’re smoothing the oil along your legs, forcing yourself to take your time with the act and making sure you pay attention to each part of you when your phone dings, loud and shrill. It cuts through the jasmine fog you’ve created around yourself and somehow your stomach drops at the same time your heart leaps, lodging itself in the back of your throat.

You pretend not to notice the way your fingers tremble as you pick it up, a miniscule thrill arcing through you at the sight of his name on your screen. You know it’s pathetic that his name is enough to do this to you and it makes you feel a little like a schoolgirl with a crush on her professor, complete with breathless anxiety at the thought of seeing him again.

Still here. I’m sorry baby, I was planning to take you out if I finished early enough.

You imagine him sitting at his big desk in that big office of his, hunched over files and his computer as he tries to iron out details and numbers and whatever else it is that makes business deals work in practice. You know he keeps his hair slicked back for work— one of your favorite things to do is run your fingers through it but you think that he must have already done that for you, agitation making him break that perfect image of his.

You smile to yourself, sit your phone face down on the sink to resist the temptation. You finish oiling yourself, making sure to dab extra onto your pulse points in lieu of perfume. Behind your ears, in the hollow of your throat. Between your breasts and on your wrists.

You choose your lingerie next, all silk and lace and buttery fabric between your fingers as you slide it over your skin. Your mind is running rampant, excitement flaring hot and bright in the pit of your stomach as you wrap yourself up like a present and daydream about the look on his face when he sees you, how he’ll react.

The doubt only surfaces when you’re buttoning your coat, starting to curdle the butterflies in your stomach— because what if he’s annoyed with you showing up without a word? What if he just wants to power through his work before he calls it a night and you throw a wrench into it? But...he has confided to you in the past that he doesn’t know how to stop working, that sometimes he wishes he knew how to actually take a break. You’d seen Cassian in action on multiple occasions, had even rubbed his shoulders for him as he took conference calls on what was supposed to be a day off.

This is the thought you cling to as you slice into a loaf of bread to make him a sandwich, meats and cheese and pickles all laid out on your cutting board when your phone dings again, this time from the pocket of your coat and again his name is on your screen.

Baby?

You’re at the front of his mind now and the edge of your worries smooths a bit even as you stop yourself from texting him back. Regardless of what happens, if you step into his office to see him tired and wanting to finish his work, only staying long enough to give him a kiss and tell him to eat his food, you want this to be a surprise.

You layer the condiments and the ingredients together, toasting the sandwich off and wrapping the finished product in wax paper and then into a brown paper bag and all of a sudden you’re ready to leave. You check and re-check your buttons and the belt of your coat, thankful that there’s enough of a chill in the night air that no one will look at you sideways for wearing something that’s all done up and falling below your knees.

You take a deep breath, the little hairs along your arms and on the back of your neck standing up and you worry your lip, and call your taxi from in front of your building, the butterflies starting to swarm up again from somewhere deep in your stomach. If you’re being honest with yourself you had always wanted to do something like this, had always wanted to have someone that you wanted to surprise like this.

His company’s building is almost empty but the security guard who lets you in smiles and greets you by name— just as you do him. He teases you for being sweet on his boss, something you can’t deny and it makes you fluster. It’s the only explanation for why you had suddenly appeared on the list you imagine he has, your name one that’s waved through despite the odd hour even if the true nature of your relationship with ‘Mr. Andor’ is one that’s kept secret, only known between the two of you.

When the guard goes to buzz Cassian and let him know you’re here you stop him, all bashful smiles and holding up the lunch bag as if it’s some kind of defense, a shield for your ulterior motives. “I want to surprise him, he works too hard.” You admit and share a good natured chuckle with the older man when he readily agrees with you. He’s been with Cassian for years and this is far from the first night he’s stayed late.

Though this is the first time anyone has brought him food, and he makes sure to tell you that.

You’re still thinking about it as you ride the elevator up to the top floor, but the sight of such a large building empty aside from security personnel with all non essential lighting turned off is something eerie. It makes your skin crawl and you regret all those horror movies you like to watch, convincing yourself that because you watch them during the day it won’t be as bad as if you were watching them in the middle of the night.

You try to think of Cassian instead to assuage the chills that are creeping up the back of your neck, telling yourself to give the horror movies a rest for a while, and as the elevator climbs higher it begins to work. Your heart starts to beat a little faster, your breaths shallowing and you find yourself grinning to yourself as the doors open.

It’s empty, as expected, and you can see the closed door of his office as you step out, the route through a small seating area and past the secretary’s desk one you have memorized and your blood begins to heat with each step you take. You pause outside his door, blowing out a slow breath and raising your hand to gently knock. You hear nothing on the other side of the door and instead of knocking again you reach for the handle and step in.

Cassian is seated at his desk just like you had imagined him, washed in warm light while the lights of the city below are sparkling like stars behind him. At the sound of someone entering his head shoots up and his eyes widen, only to melt into something softer and warmer as he recognizes you and leans back in his plush leather chair. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t sound accusatory— he sounds curious.

He watches you with dark eyes as you lock the door before you walk further into the room and you feel a smirk growing on your lips as you drop the lunch bag into one of the chairs placed opposite of him, his eyes barely straying from you. “I brought you dinner,” You say it simply, nonchalantly— as if your fingers haven’t untied your belt and gotten to work on the first buttons of your coat at the same time. You work carefully, making sure nothing more than a sliver of skin is revealed as you work your way down the front.

“And what did you bring me?” His eyes don’t leave you, watching with rapt attention as you deftly undo button after button. You feel yourself start to flush underneath his scrutiny, drinking in the sight of his brows furrowing and him sitting up in his chair. You wet your lips, gripping the lapels of your coat for a long moment. To draw it out or muster the courage needed to actually drop the thing in the middle of his office you don’t know because all you can see is how he’s looking at you now, shifting his weight onto his forearms as he leans on his desk for a closer look at you.

“Me.” You grin then, your residual insecurities being drowned by the thrill of it all and the heat of his gaze, and your coat falls in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Goosebumps cover your body at the noise he makes, a low groan from somewhere deep in his chest and you feel your nipples peak against the lace of your bra— if you can even call it one. The garment seems almost purely decorative, doing more to show you off than it does to conceal. He shifts in his chair, leans back again and rubs his hand over his chin, over the short hair that you’ve come to crave rasping over your skin.

You see his eyes go heavy as you saunter around his desk, trying not to grin too brightly because for all the nerves you had getting ready and in the elevator, you don’t think you’ve ever felt better in this moment with his eyes all over you like he can’t decide where to look, his hand gripping the arm of his chair and shifting his weight.

He stands before you can slide yourself between his legs and he’s so close you feel the warmth coming off of him, the cologne you had daydreamed about swirling around your head and you can’t help yourself from taking a deep breath of it. He moves slowly, dipping his face into the crook of your neck and you think you feel his eyelashes flutter against the delicate skin, no doubt smelling the jasmine you so lovingly doused yourself in. You do your best to stay still, even as you feel his large palms sliding along your sides, gripping your hips over the lace and silk he finds there.

When he finally raises his head his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black, swallowing you up whole. “And you think you can just interrupt me?” His words are quiet and his accent is more pronounced than it was only moments ago. It’s one of your favorite things about him, how his voice sounds. You love how it doubles and triples in weight and you would be lying through your teeth if you said one of your goals isn’t to have him speaking another language by the time you leave the building. It’s the same goal you have every time you see him.

“I wanted to see you, Daddy,” You try not to smirk, you really do, when you reach up to give the open collar of his dress shirt a little tug, playing at fixing it. You know exactly what game he’s playing and it makes your heart race because you know what’s coming next— your mouth might even be watering for it.

“Bend over the desk.” He says it softly. He says it softly enough that it almost doesn’t sound like the order it is but he squeezes your hips to emphasize his point, his fingers indenting the soft flesh and you almost melt right there.

You nod, wetting your lips as he shoves the files on his desk to the side and he doesn’t seem to care as they clatter to the floor. You arrange yourself in front of his desk with your legs spread and bend over at the waist, bracing your weight on your forearms and the muscles in your belly are already clenching when you feel him step up behind you. He runs his hands lightly over your sides and you almost fold in on yourself when he hits that one spot underneath your rib cage, the one that’s the almost-but-not-quite kind of ticklish that just makes the hair on your neck stand up and your muscles quiver.

Your eyelids flutter and you try your best to stay still as he pets you, ghosting his hands over your hips and your backside, teasingly slipping a finger underneath the elastic of your panties and letting it snap back against your skin. Your back arches in response and you bite your lip, the anticipation almost enough to make you moan.

“Just look at you, dirty girl,” He murmurs from behind you and you think you can feel the fabric of his slacks if you concentrate hard enough, the touch maddeningly fleeting and you have to keep yourself from pressing back into him, from rolling your hips in an effort to entice him. You know from experience he’ll just make you wait longer if you do but it does nothing to dull the ache that has flared to life between your spread thighs. If anything the knowledge just makes it burn hotter.

“Coming all the way here in lingerie I bought you and nothing to cover it except that flimsy coat,” His words are scolding but his hands are still gentle on your skin. “Anyone could have seen you, do you know that? Anyone could have seen what is mine,” If someone had told you six months ago that you would be dissolving into Cassian Andor’s desk at the sound of his voice in your ear, at the sound of him taking verbal possession of you, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you are, trying to concentrate on your breathing and trying not to shake, waiting for his next move with bated breath. He has to know what it does to you when he calls you his. His anything. His baby, his girl. There’s been a handful of times where he’s called you his darling outside of having sex and it makes your heart race each and every time. He has to know.

But then he leans over you and you can feel his shirt drag along the bare skin of your back and the cold press of his belt buckle and then you can’t think of anything else. His breath skates over your ear and your teeth dig into your lip, your eyelids fluttering as you try to listen to what he’s saying.

“For every one you don’t count, you get five more. Okay?” If someone had told you six months ago that you would want to be spanked, that you would crave the burn to the point you thought about it at night, that would make you whine, you would have laughed them out of the building. But here you are. Here you are and the way he’s making it sound in this context, like it’s a punishment for interrupting him or going out in lingerie with the only thing protecting you from flashing the wrong person being one measly coat, is only cranking you hotter.

“Yes,” Your voice almost gets stuck in your throat and slips through your teeth in a hiss because he’s pressing his hips forward and you can feel the wood digging into the front of your own and all you want to do is press back. You don’t realize your mistake until he hums behind you, low in his throat and sounding as disappointed as a hum can be and he squeezes your hip in something that might be a warning.

“Yes what?” You can’t stop the shudder that wracks through this time, just like you can’t stop yourself from leaning back into him, a small whine tumbling from your lips.

“Yes, Cassian,” Cassian. Somehow calling his name makes the room feel hotter and the air heavier because it’s intimate. There’s no sir, no generic, false title to hide behind when you’re together, nothing you can use to distance yourself from him. No corner of your mind that isn’t consumed by him.

“Good girl.” You feel his lips behind your ear in a quick kiss, his beard just barely scratching your skin and you want it everywhere. He’s straightening up, taking a step back from then you mourn the loss of his heat. Your breathing picks up and you shift, reaching up to grab the edge of his desk in a vain attempt to ground yourself.

He doesn’t give you any other warning before his palm is coming down on your right cheek, sharp enough and hard enough to make a sound, to make you jump and your body go taut, the air stalling in your chest before you’re melting over his desk. “One,” Your voice is trembling already while his hand returns to you, smoothing over your skin and soothing the sting he just inflicted and you know if he touched you right then his fingers would come away wet.

His hand comes down on your other cheek, lower this time, close to where your thigh meets your ass and you count him off with a gasp because the biting sting is already beginning to turn into something different, worked into something new under his kneading fingers and it makes you keen as you count him off.

Three, four and— you don’t count the fifth one even though you’ve slipped from your elbows, your cheek pressing into the cool wood. Each smack had gotten progressively lower until each of them landed where your thighs meet your ass, the vibrations going straight straight to your pussy.

You don’t bother hiding your smile from him, not seeing the point in hiding your enjoyment from him. He can’t help but tease you for it though, leaning over you again and your abused ass smarts when his slacks rub against it, chills ripping through you. “Dirty girl,” He sounds like he’s laughing at your pain but there’s an almost reverential note in his voice even as you squirm underneath him, the wood rubbing against your nipples in the exact right way to have sparks flying. “I almost forgot how much you like this,”

Liar. He knows. He knows and that’s exactly why he’s letting you try to rock back into him, rubbing yourself like a cat in heat against the bulge of his cock. Your belly is coiling tight and your mouth is watering for more, everything just enough to keep you on edge. To tease without offering any real relief and for some reason you love it. You love how he can boil you down to sensations alone, to make you crave and ache and need.

The next smacks land dead center on the junction of your thighs and your ass and you count off every one, the contact going right to your buzzing clit that you’re trying to grind into the edge of his desk in a vain attempt to dull the edge. You’re gripping the desk so hard that your knuckles are lightening a shade, the skin pulled taut over the bone.

The last one is the one that kills you, that makes you hold your breath and arch. Your legs are spread wide enough for his hand to easily fit between them but you still aren’t expecting him to slap you there, an obscene noise filling the room that makes your ears burn. Your moan is delayed but it’s loud, electric pleasure rocketing up your spine and he keeps his hand there. He keeps constant pressure against your thrumming cunt and lets you grind into it, whimpering the count while you push yourself onto your hands now for more leverage.

The lace of your panties drags through your soaked folds and the friction is amazing. So amazing that you almost don’t feel him lean in closer, all your attention on your pussy but then his mouth is at your ear again and his free hand is sliding up your chest, fingers splayed across your collarbones and holding you against him.

His head dips and he mouths at the side of your neck, teeth scraping and his beard scratching. His hand moves again but doesn’t go far, his fingers pinching your nipple. “You’re so good for me,” He mumbles and he sounds almost as lost as you feel.

“Turn around,” His accent has thickened in the way you love and you swallow back the disappointed moan when he takes his hands from you, waiting for you to comply.

You’re trembling as you do, your eyes fluttering open and the lights of the city swim in front of you before your eyes focus on the man who pulled away before you could cum on his hand, nearly all from spanking you. Not for the first time you wonder if he’s even real— but the ache at the very core of you says he is, says that you don’t know how but his hands on you are your favorite thing.

And then he’s grabbing you and lifting you onto his desk, stepping between your slick thighs and you have to reach for him, unable to stand it anymore and murmuring his name. He beats you to it, warm hands sliding around your jaw and cupping your face as he leans in.

The first brush of his lips on yours makes you sigh, as if his kiss brings you relief even while it stokes the fire deep within you. Your hands fist in the sides of his shirt as he deepens the kiss, angling your head just how he wants and slicking his tongue into your mouth. A moan rises from the back of your throat as you wind your legs around his hips to keep him pressed close, unwilling or just plain unable to do anything that would make him break the kiss because you aren’t, not until your lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen.

The most you can manage while he eats at your mouth, his beard abrading your skin in a way you know you’ll curse him for later when it turns painful but you can’t seem to get enough of it, is yanking his once perfectly crisp, pressed dress shirt out of his pants because you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t already close enough, your spine bowing with the way he’s leaning into you.

If this was a purely business relationship you don’t think you’d be like this, you don’t think you would go out of your way to see him at all, to make him food. But you are and you did— you wrapped yourself up like a present for him in the hopes he’d fuck you the way that makes your toes curl, better than he really has any business doing, but you had brought him food. That’s the detail that doesn’t fit, the one crooked picture frame in the hallway. You took the time and effort to make him something you know he likes because you know he hadn’t eaten yet. He has to know.

His mouth only breaks from yours when your back hits his desk and your lips are shiny and wet from your combined saliva and your chest is heaving as he trails openmouthed kisses along your jaw to your neck. His hands leave your face in favor of lavishing attention on your breasts, groping you through the lace and the silk just adding to the softness of you that he adores.

His teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your throat, rolling and tweaking your nipples between his fingers as his mouth continues a steady and determined path path until his mouth is engulfing one over your bra, wetting the material with his tongue and for some reason that makes the muscles in your belly twist tighter. Your hands have slipped to his shoulders, nails scratching into his shirt for something to hold on to and because you can’t imagine not touching him. He gives your other nipple the same treatment and he’s slipping a hand underneath the thin, flimsy band of your panties to knead your hip.

But then his hand is turning, grasping the band and yanking it, a tearing sound filling the room and this time when you say his name it’s a yelp of both surprise and a poor attempt at a reprimand as you push yourself up because that pair was one of your favorites. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he looks up at you, his mouth traveling down until he’s mouthing at your stomach and the look in his dark eyes makes your breath catch at the back of your throat.

“I’ll make it up to you, cariño,” His voice is low and crooning, placating you as he throws your ruined underwear somewhere to the side and you have a crystal clear realization of what he means by making it up to you when he reaches behind him to pull his chair up, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s going to eat you alive.

Your breath stutters as he starts arranging you how he wants, spreading your thighs wider and one hand smoothing down your leg to grasp your ankle and lift, placing it on top of his desk and you’ve never felt more on display in your life. You lean your weight back onto your hands, unable to look away from him as he looks at you with heavy eyes, the sigh loud as it leaves his mouth and it’s the same sigh you hear when you wrap your lips around his cock, the sigh he only makes when he’s being pleasured and he’s making it while just looking at you. It makes your head spin in the best way, your skin prickling when he strokes that same hand back along the line of your leg until he reaches your thigh, giving it a squeeze that makes you feel as if you might burst if he does it again.

You barely register the cool air on your weeping slit because he’s leaning forward and licking a thick stripe up the length of you and you don’t know who groans louder— you or Cassian. You feel like you’re going to collapse as he begins devouring you in earnest, one hand pressed into your thigh to make sure your leg doesn’t slip from the desk and his teeth and tongue flickering over your clit, but you can’t look away from him.

The lights behind him slide together into a neon haze and he’s looking up at you with blown out pupils and strands of hair falling across his forehead and you don’t think you’ve seen anything more beautiful than him at this moment. Your nails scrape against the wood as you reach one hand down to clutch at his hair and the sound he makes when you tug on the strands burrows into your cunt and leaves you reeling.

As if that knocked over some domino he starts to mumble against your swollen flesh, his tone dark and rich as he goes on about your taste, how sweet you are under his tongue and how good you are for him and the praise goes straight to your head, your heart pounding against the weight of your ribcage. Somewhere in a hazy part of your mind you wonder how you made it this long without him— like you do every time you’re together again after any absence, any time apart.

And you’ll never tell him that outside of the bedroom— office, as it was right at this moment. You’ll never tell him that in a voice that isn’t rushed and panting, begging to be touched because you don’t know what this is anymore. You know what it started as, a way for him to have company and a little eye candy on his arm for industry functions. A shield against unwanted advances. But then you actually, genuinely enjoyed your time with him. Had started looking forward to it and the way he wasn’t pushing you for sex. That part of your relationship had evolved on its own and once it did there was no stopping it, and you both just...ran with it.

And now here you are, making him food and letting him fuck you for what might as well be free and you’re reveling in it.

You’re rocking your hips forward, incapable of staying still now with each of your nerve endings on fire and that’s when he decides to feed one of his fingers into you, stretching you open in ways that make your own fingers pale in comparison and it’s like a dam bursts somewhere within you, mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips and if he was anyone else you might be embarrassed about the noises you’re making.

But you’re not. You’re not because in response, as if the bastard is rewarding you for starting to fall apart underneath his mouth, his mouth latches onto your clit and sucks, pressing his tongue into the bundle of nerves hard enough to make you see stars as your eyes squeeze shut, your thighs jumping.

“I think you can take another, don’t you?” His voice is rough and you feel the blunt pressure of a second finger pressing against your entrance— but he doesn’t go any farther than that, not until you’re nodding, almost frantic with his name stuck in your throat.

The second digit makes your mouth fall open and your head tips back before you can help it, because he’s sinking it into your fluttering cunt up to the knuckle with the first and holding them there, just letting you have the sensation of being filled while he sets his mouth back on your clit.

His free hand leaves your thigh and he groans into your soaked folds a moment later, and somehow you manage the strength to lift your head and look. What you see makes your hips roll forwards, grinding yourself into his fingers and his tongue because you can see his hand moving, palming his cock through his slacks. The cock that you know is heavy and hot to the touch and must be aching at this point and suddenly that’s all you can think about.

He’s taking you apart with his mouth and you’re still greedy for more of him, because of course you are. You want his mouth and his fingers and his cock so deep inside of you that you can feel him in the back of your throat.

A pathetic, needy sound spills from somewhere deep in your chest just like that all his focus is on you again, his hand returning to slide over your hip and lock down to keep your hips pinned to his desk. He starts pumping his fingers, curling them in the exact right way to have your vision start to fuzz out at the edges.

Distantly you hear him goad you on in that honeyed voice, coaxing you to the edge and shoving you over it. He keeps driving his fingers into you, stretching and curling as your cunt flutters around them and mercilessly dragging you through your orgasm. His teeth catch your clit and you melt down, your body clamping around his fingers and your world narrowing to this one delicious point.

Stars burst behind your eyelids and you cry something that might be his name when your lungs remember how to work while your nails scratch over his scalp, but he takes care of you.

He soothes you, guiding you back to earth with a gentle hand and turning his head to mouth lazily at the inside of your thigh when the sensations get to be too much and you have to push him away from your cunt. Your legs are quivering on either side of his head and your heart is erratic in your chest, and Cassian has started to rub your thighs as if he's trying to soothe you, as if he can't get enough of you even now.

You can't seem to unlock your fingers from his hair as he starts to rise, his mouth and beard glistening and he's— he's smiling at you while he crowds into your space all over again. This time when you kiss it's slow and languid and utterly filthy because you taste yourself in his tongue, the damp bristles of his beard scratching your chin and you never want it to end.

The hand in his hair slips to his face, cupping his jaw as it works while your arm winds around his shoulders, holding him close and it's only when your trembling legs wrap around his hips, your ankles crossing at the small of his back that he pulls back, a dark chuckle on his lips. "Greedy girl," he nudges your cheek with his nose, angling your head just right so he can suck a mark underneath your jaw.

You don’t try to deny it— why bother when you’re reaching to fumble with his belt, trying to focus enough to yank his zipper down while his teeth are at your throat. Desperation makes you clumsy as you shove his slacks and underwear down his thighs and you don’t bother stifling your moan when you see him, flushed and weeping, a pearly bead of precum slipping down the tip of his shaft and if was physically possible to dissolve into a puddle of pure need you think you would right there.

Like a magnet your hand goes to it, wrapping your fingers around the searing girth of him and stroking. Cassian huffs into your throat, grunting as you twist your wrist and swipe your thumb over his tip. He lets you play, leaning more of his weight into the line of your body and the heat pouring off of him makes you shudder.

He doesn’t make any move to stop you despite him straining closer and the ache flaring, sharp and bright deep within you. You know what he wants, had played this particular game with him countless times, each of you trying to outlast the other while being driven out of your minds with want. You love it, love how the need strips you down to base urges and emotions without fear of looking foolish. How it makes your time together, short as it is at times, seem to unravel in front of you and spool into something greater than it is.

But you’re weak. Your first orgasm did nothing to satisfy you, if anything it just made everything worse in some twisted way.

“Cassian,” You beseech him, your voice gone soft and breathy as you try to pull him even closer.

“What is it, querida?” He husks into your ear, lips pulling into a sharp smile when you rip your hand away from his cock to brace yourself as he pushes forward, just enough for you to feel the weight of his cock pressing against your folds, so close to where you want him that you can almost taste it. “Do you want my cock so badly you’ve forgotten how to speak?”

He’s hitting his stride now, delighting in the way you choke on a moan. “Please, Cassian,” You try again, wetting your lips. “Give it to me,” You pull on his shirt and roll your hips and what’s left of your brain almost short circuits because he catches the dip of your entrance and you still, breath whooshing over your teeth.

“Since you asked so nicely,” He concedes, voice scraping the air between you and then he’s filling you. Your legs tense around his hips and some high, keening noise fills the air that you realize a few moments too late is coming from you because you think you can feel every ridge as he thrusts home. Your hands are everywhere— flitting from his shoulders to his back to his arms and back again, because you can’t seem to figure out the best way to keep him as close as possible.

He’s not any better than you are, his fingers digging into your hips, your thighs. Refusing to allow you any space to pull away from him when the sensations get to be too much, refusing to allow you any reprieve from him at all because his mouth is at your neck as he starts to thrust, groaning against your skin.

One thing about Cassian is that he talks. As if something about experiencing pleasure jumpstarts his tongue he’s only quiet when he’s kissing you or sucking at your skin, and he’ll inevitably break away to start murmuring nonsense to you, languages getting muddled and mixed in his mouth the closer he gets to completion. He talks, and he expects answers.

“That’s it, princesa,” He breathes at your ear when you roll your hips just right, when your cunt tightens even further around his cock like you never want him to leave. He always praises you, telling you how you feel wrapped around him like a vice. How good you’re being for him, how well you’re taking his cock. “I make you feel good, don’t I?”

All you can do is moan at him because the bastard knows he does, as if it isn’t staggeringly, blindingly obvious in the way you’re holding onto him, the sounds you’re making as he drives into you over and over again. But as much as he likes to talk, he likes hearing you more and you’ve taken too long.

“Answer me,” He says and swats your thigh, hard enough that a tingling warmth spreads out along your skin from the point of contact and the bite of pain somehow puts the pleasure into a sort of perspective, contrasting it so perfectly that your legs are tightening around his thrusting hips and your mouth is falling open.

“Yes, yes, Cassian, you do,” The words fall over themselves in the push to get out of your mouth and he’s praising you again, both verbally and in the way his hand snakes between you, fingers unerringly finding your clit and it makes you jerk like you’ve been electrocuted, arcs of sizzling pleasure sweeping through your body.

He leans over you and he doesn’t stop, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing world-ending circles into your clit and all you can do is hold onto him, squirming and arching against him because his other arm has wound around your back to pull you flush and there’s nowhere for you to go except Cassian.

Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. How he speaks like he does you have no idea because the only thing you can seem to reliably get out of your mouth is his name, unburdened by things like sentence structure while he grunts and groans, tongue tying himself in Spanish and you’ve picked up enough to get the gist of what he’s saying. He’s telling you how hard he’s going to make you cum, how he’s going to fill you up. How the next time you show up like this he’s going to make you ride him.

Everything combines and your gust twists, the pleasure turning caustic as it burns you up from the inside out, vision blurring as you try to scramble back away from him out of instinct, away from the looming threat of overstimulation but his arm at your back prevents it and he just keeps fucking into you hard and deep, this fingers never leaving your clit. The only thing you’re able to do is dig your nails in and hold on as you sob, squeezing your eyes tight enough, the pleasure sharp and intense enough to have a tear slip down your cheek.

In the next moments his pace falters, his hips stuttering and turning sloppy. He bucks into you with an almost bruising force and holds himself there as he releases and you can’t help but whine at the feel of it, of him shuddering in your arms.

Neither of you speak for long moments, instead just weathering the aftershocks in each other’s embrace as you both come down from your highs, breathing raggedly. His hand sweeps over your back in long, soothing strokes and he presses kisses into your shoulders, your neck, his touches soft and mindful now that the frenzy has passed.

“Are you okay?” His voice is as soft as his hands and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips as you nuzzle closer to him, humming your answer into his neck while his hand comes up to stroke your hair.

“Words, princesa. Are you okay?” He admonishes gently and you can’t help the small chuckle that bubbles up in your throat at his insistence, at the warm feeling that spreads throughout your body at the sound of his concern.

“Yes, Cassian. I promise,” It’s then that he smiles down at you curled into his chest, reassured, and you don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped around each other and each of you not wanting to be the first to let go. It’s in these moments, your heart rate calming while he rests in you, seemingly loathe to pull out, that you think there may be something more to this than just sex or companionship at parties for him.

No matter how rough he is with you during the act he always treats you like some precious thing afterwards, all murmured words and comforting touches. Running his hand down your spine, over your hair. Telling you how good you did, how proud he is of you for taking everything he throws at you and calling you things like beautiful girl and all the pet names he uses while he’s fucking you except there’s a distinct affection to them now and they make your heart jump and butterflies fill you stomach.

You’re almost drifting off, a consequence of being warm and sated and well-fucked, when he speaks again. “Did you really bring me food?” He sounds equal parts excited and cautious, like he’s trying not to get his hopes up too much and you can’t help but laugh as you start to untangle yourself from him.

“I made you a sandwich,” You tell him, a fresh wave of warmth swelling up in your chest at the look on his face. You readjust on the desk, your breath catching when his cock slips from your cunt and then you’re reaching back, your fingers just snagging the lunch bag because you don’t trust your legs to work quite yet. Cassian once again pulls his chair up, leaning back to watch you unwrap the food and like he’s incapable of not touching you one of his hands returns to your thigh, idling stroking from your knee to your hip so gently you’re not sure if it’s a conscious movement or not.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” He starts when he sees the sandwich, one that requires actual effort instead of something that only calls for throwing together leftovers and calling it good enough, but you only shrug a shoulder.

“I wanted to.” There’s more there but he doesn’t question you further, and you don’t know whether that’s a blessing or a curse. “You were working late and you don’t always eat, so…” You let the words fade into the air, revealing to him that you listen to what he tells you and remember. The remembering is the important part and a flash of regret ignites in your chest almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, but he’s looking at you with the same expression you think you had when he took you to the art museum for the first time, never complaining as you wandered for hours.

“There’s two halves— I’ll only eat if you share it with me.” His smile turns tricky at the edges and he doesn’t reach for the sandwich at all, waiting for your answer and despite yourself, despite knowing it shouldn’t, you feel your heart melt a little.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Andor,” You smile, try for a light, casual tone as you reach for your half and ignore the way his eyes light up.

You eat slowly, savoring the tastes and textures, the office filled with a downy, plush sort of silence as you bask in the afterglow. He’s watching you the entire time, holding the sandwich with one hand because his other hasn’t left your skin, tracing patterns into the inside of your knee and sweeping his fingers over the curve of your thigh.

You try to focus on the city behind him, afraid that if you look at his face too long you’ll get caught up and start confessing things to him, things that are better left unsaid, carefully danced around in conversation no matter how blatant they are in your actions— like going out of your way to come see him when you could’ve just stayed home and enjoyed a quiet night in. Like coating yourself in sweet smelling oils that make your skin even softer to the touch, like wrapping yourself up in lace and silk just for him.

You almost don’t realize the chill creeping over your exposed skin, goosebumps following in its wake and before you can complain Cassian is slipping his suit jacket off the chair behind him and holding it out to you. “Here, put this on,” There’s no question in his tone, no tentative ‘are you cold?’ And maybe that’s the reason you find yourself so drawn to him; he pays attention to you, to the things you think no one else bothers to notice.

You murmur your thanks and slip the fabric over your shoulders, warm and smelling of his cologne and you feel...you feel almost content sitting up on his desk and sharing the meal you made, his watch pressing heavy into your skin when he squeezes your knee.

You lick at the last bit of mustard clinging to a finger as you finish your half, acutely aware of his eyes on you as your tongue dabs at your own skin. He’s leaning his elbow onto one of the arms of his chair, his chin resting in his hand and covering his mouth, his eyes never wavering from your body and just like that your skin starts to prickle again, sensing a change in the air between you.

His eyes rove over your body, slow and heating again at the sight of you like this, his jacket hanging loose on your shoulders and almost seeming to frame your breasts, your thighs spread on his desk to keep yourself upright and maybe to relieve the scratches left by his beard. His eyes catch on the pearly drops on the dark wood on his desk, your combined essences leaking out of you and his breath leaves him in a long sigh, watching it ooze from your flushed cunt.

The hand on your thigh starts to move, slowly as to not startle you as it smooths along the inside of your thigh and you don’t stop him. You watch him with bated breath, watch the way his brow knits with concentration and his breathing deepens.

Your thighs jump at the first brush of his thumb along your oversensitive folds and you see his head tilt, visibly engrossed with the sight in front of him and the realization of what he’s doing hits you like a punch to the gut.

He runs his thumb down and up, scooping his cum up as it seeps out and pushing it back into you, his thumb thick and insistent and your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes fluttering. He rubs his mouth, not looking up at you as he repeats the process again while he begins to speak, words heavy in the air between you.

“How did you get here?”

You breathe slow and deep, trying to make your brain connect to your tongue but it’s hard to think. It’s hard to think because you’re hypersensitive, but he’s moving so slow and soft, mindful of the razor’s edge you’re sitting on and the depths his thumb is reaching within you are just shallow enough to have you starting to want more all over again.

“I— uhmm,” You cut yourself off, a hum rising from the back of your throat as his thumb stills, sheathed in your quivering core and acting as a plug to keep any more of his cum from escaping for the time being. “I took a cab,”

You lean back on your hands, trying to breathe through the sensation of being filled but not enough to truly satisfy you, and you wonder how you’re supposed to live without this when the arrangement inevitably ends, because you know it will. He makes no effort to hide how much he likes spoiling you, but you think that it’s only a matter of time before he decides that bleeding money for you is too much of an unnecessary expense, and then what?

Are you supposed to move on knowing what it feels like to have lingerie that costs more than your rent ripped off you, only to be replaced in the next few days and knowing that you’ll probably never experience the thrill it brings again? To know what it feels like to be so thoroughly taken care of you can’t see straight and try to find it in someone else? Cassian is passion and intensity paired with soft smiles and bright laughter, and you don’t know if you’ll ever find that in someone else, and it scares you more than you care to admit, even to yourself.

He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and glimmering in the low light, his hair mussed from your fingers and your chest bows. For how much you tried to focus on anything else but him while you ate, you can’t look away from him now.

“Good,” He starts, his voice warm and slow as honey. “You’re coming home with me.”

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fic #rogue one fic #star wars fic #star wars smut #i blame kami for this monstrosity

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cl-01-kestis · 4 years ago

Text

Incorrect Morals

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You receive a call from Thrawn once again and spend the night getting lost in conversation, and after a tense negotiation with a team of rebels, you get stuck in a sticky situation with Kallus.

Warnings: slight romance, angst (literally all these chapters have angst i-) (I’m also sorry to all of you Kalluzeb shippers. I do ship it very much but it isn’t a thing in this story 🥺)

Chiss translations:

Ch'ah tsucarah = I promise

Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn? = but only if you do the same?

Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah = I will, don’t worry about me

Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae = I’ll worry about you as much as I want, now go

It was 10:45 PM.

The sky dimmed into a pitch black and Omani had gone to bed due to how mentally and physically exhausted she was, mostly because of the journey and the fact she had seen her dad in person for the first time and her mind wouldn’t shut up about it. As for you, you had just gotten out of the shower. It had been a long day and your visit to Naboo had been cut short due to obvious circumstances and you felt the need to clean up.

You stood in front of the comunual refresher mirror, drying your hair with a spare towel you had lying about as your body was on full show. No one used the refreshers at this time of night so you didn’t necessarily need to cover up.

You brought your bag to the showers since you went in a refresher as soon as you undressed from your Senator outfit. You scrubbed your hair and body, unable to shake the feeling of anxiety off your skin as you washed yourself under the cold water.

The towel soaked up all the water on your body as you dried your hair and flung the towel around your shoulder. Your body was cold against the cool air coming into the showers, but you found it pleasant, it made you feel comfortable. You brushed your hair and put on clean briefs and a black sports bra after putting deodorant on. The towel was still draped around your shoulders and neck, catching whatever water droplets left your strands of hair and making sure none of them soaked your bra. You slid your legs through a pair of black leggings, shimmying your hips into them and bending your legs slightly so they could adjust and not fall down.

You shuffled around in your bag and grabbed ahold of your holo device, switching it on as you washed your face in the mirror. You scrolled through the news articles that came up on the holonet, nothing too exciting was going on at the moment apart from the galactic war. A twi’lek presenter was broadcasting the daily reports for the New Republic, her face plastered with a fake smile as she read off the papers sorted nearly in front of her. You watched with a bored expression, listening in loosely as you put on some deodorant and whistled a small song to yourself.

As you rubbed your hair with the towel some more, a small incoming call notification popped up on your holo device and you stopped to look and inspect the number with squinted eyes. It was Thrawn.

Sighing to yourself, you accept the call and turn around to make sure no one’s coming in as his holo image illuminated in front of you on the bathroom sink. You were met with a tired looking Thrawn, now wearing a white long sleeved T-shirt and his hair no longer layered by gel. You looked at one another for a brief second, Thrawn’s scarlet eyes looking down at your torso and realising you were wearing only a sports bra before returning his gaze to yours in a respectful manner, he made no comment.

“Hello again,” Thrawn managed a small, warm smile. You repeated his actions and let the corner of your lip curl up as you ruffled your hair some more with the towel and placed it on the counter of sinks after.

“Hey” You mumbled back, resting your palms on the edge of the sink just so you had something to lean on. Your posture was relaxed but your shoulders seemed tense, that’s what Thrawn noticed as you rolled your neck around your shoulders to relieve some tension. You looked stressed.

“I want to apologise for today, I didn’t realise you were going to be attending” He sighed, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt sleeves as he kept his eyes on you, doing his best not to look away out of shame. You shook your head, turning around so your hips leaned against the sink.

“It’s alright, I’m not judging you for doing your job” You noted, crossing your arms and smiling in an assuring manner at Thrawn who took some relief towards that, his body relaxing slightly as his eyes grew soft.

“I do feel embarrassed though, I also want to apologise for Pryce” He continued, causing you to cringe and frown at the mentioning of that woman’s name.

“Don’t be sorry for someone who isn’t; you don’t need to cover up her tracks, she worked beside me a few times back when I was an Imperial after all, so I know what kind of person she is” You corrected Thrawn quickly, gaze turning fierce and angry but it wasn’t directed towards him. Your face scrunched up in displeasure for a moment, hands clutching at your bare upper arms and trying to ignore the rising frustration building up inside you.

“She is... dull to work with, so I don’t blame you” Thrawn’s words made you chuckle and nod in agreement, your eyes unconsciously staring at him for a bit too long until you quickly cleared your throat and ran a hand through your scalp.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see you today” Your words projected veracity, and Thrawn felt his heart beat flare up in anticipation at that single comment, even if it wasn’t a massive one. He bit back a smile and nodded his head.

“As with you, Rcati,” Thrawn beamed, some strands of loose navy hair falling in front of his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, or were you just imagining things?

“I must admit, you looked very beautiful, I can’t recall ever seeing you in a dress” Thrawn leaned back with the support of his arms, it made you realise he wasn’t sitting in his chair but maybe the floor? You weren’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t his chair.

“Dresses aren’t my thing, I only need to wear them for the Senate to make a ‘positive impression’” You used your two fingers on each hand to make a sarcastic emphasis on the last part, and it warmed your heart to see Thrawn chuckle in response.

“I know the feeling, it’s all about positive impressions now a days. But how has it been? Being a Senator?” Thrawn looked more and more excited the more he spoke and asked you things, his eyes sparkled with interest and his mouth never stopped curling up as he looked right at you. You reminded yourself that this was the real Thrawn you were talking to, not the Thrawn you saw back at the Senate. As scary as he could he, this was as real as he could get, and you were grateful he showed this side of himself to you, even after years of not speaking to him. The trust was still there.

“It’s been tiring, I’ve not been working recently but all the travelling and meeting new people really drains you” You answered frankly, scratching the back of your neck as Thrawn hummed softly. He seemed to study you in a subtle sense as you awaited his answer, he trapped his chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes stayed unfocused for a few seconds.

“You hate both of those things, i genuinely can’t believe you took a career as a Senator- I mean, you dreamed of being a soldier your whole life, why not do that with the rebels?” Thrawn’s voice held interest as he tilted his head slightly and a few more strands of his hair fell on his forehead. Thrawn frowned and tried fixing the hairs but gave up soon after they kept falling on his face. You noticed it now, Thrawn’s hair was longer than it was when you worked with him at the Empire. He had it cut much shorter, but now it was at least a few inches longer. Of course it wasn’t as long as his hair used to be on Csilla, but you’d give a lot to see him with that hair again. He suited it more than you wanted to admit.

“The reason is our daughter, and I’m too busy to be a soldier now. The fear of dying in battle and leaving Omani alone terrifies me, I could never do that to her... I’m the only person she has at the moment” Your voice lowered the more you spoke, gaze drifting off to think about the scenario you feared most. Thrawn nodded his head, understanding what you were getting at and doing his best to try and emotionally sympathise with you.

He wasn’t good at emotions, he never was. He feared weakness, and made little to no efforts to connect with anyone in the Empire what so ever. It was a cold life for him, but now he felt he had to do something, anything, to connect with you. He never realised it until you left, but Thrawn liked you, a lot, and not just for the sex or company. If anything, he loved you. And the thought of you disappearing again made him nauseous, completely sick to his stomach with anxiety, and that was something he had never experienced before. Pure and utter dread.

“That’s a fair point, I wouldn’t want her being left alone” Thrawn returned his gaze to you and he took his time to study you until you looked back at him. Your body hadn’t changed that much since he last saw it, but he noticed the stretch marks peeking out of the hem of your leggings, it was obviously from your pregnancy. The sight made his heart swoon.

If there’s one thing Chiss are always proud of, it’s having a family and a mother or father to have their kin. Thrawn’s gotten so used to the fact he was a father throughout the last few days, he forgot about all the worries and concerns he had about the Empire just by looking at Omani’s face. He didn’t even know her, hell, he didn’t even know she existed until recently, but he already felt so much pride. That was his daughter, a daughter that you gave him. And the thought of you looking after Omani for so long, and risking so much to keep her safe, made Thrawn utterly fall in love with you. Not that he wasn’t in love with you before.

“She was at the Senate today as well, wasn’t she?” Thrawn raised a brow, bending his knee up to rest his elbow on it. Okay, he was definitely sitting on the floor, or his bed maybe.

“She was, she saw you and freaked out” You chuckled, making the situation more lighthearted and trying to avoid telling Thrawn about how scared she was, you didn’t want him becoming guilty.

Thrawn sighed. “She smiled at me though, I guess that’s a starting point”. Your smile widened at his comment.

“Omani will come around eventually, hopefully when the war ends, then maybe-“ maybe we could be a family. You cut yourself off before you said anything else, wincing internally after realising you said too much and would probably be questioned by Thrawn about it. Your face was hot with embarrassment and you cleared your throat to waft away the tension.

“Maybe...?” Thrawn persuaded with curiosity, leaning forward and raising his other leg up so he was sitting more comfortably. You looked away from Thrawn and pinched the bridge of your nose, waving away his comment and trying not to get butt hurt about thinking too much about what you desired more than anything in the world.

“Just getting ahead of myself, that’s all” Your voice was quiet but clear enough for the Chiss to hear. You sniffed but no tears were in your eyes, thankfully for your sake. But that didn’t stop Thrawn from wondering desperately what was on your mind. He practically knew you when you were a baby, your parents knew his very well and he bonded with you the moment he met you; him being 5 years old and you, a new born. But when you became an adult, he wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were perhaps feeling, maybe - and hopefully - feelings towards him? He could never crack you, and now he was faced with the same issue.

“I won’t push, but whatever it is, it’s obviously bothering you” You sucked in a breath at Thrawn’s statement. He was right, he knew he was. Were you ready to tell him though? You only spoke to him once before now, after 14 years, but somehow your feelings for him have never changed. If anything they’ve grown stronger now that you’ve got a direct link; Omani.

“It is bothering me, and it has for the longest time... but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet” You clutched the edge of the sink and ground your teeth, afraid you said too much all together. You felt like keeping your feelings from him was unfair, he done nothing but tell the truth to you and he proved his loyalty to you after saving you and Omani at the Senate. He might have been Empire, but you and Omani being rebels didn’t stop him from protecting either of you from harms way.

“Do you... remember the nights I’d come over to your office, and we’d just talk? Sex or not, but just... being in each other’s company?” It was a strange question, you knew it, but Thrawn wasn’t confused by what you were getting at, he nodded his head and urged you to continue. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously and raised your hand up to your mouth to bite at your nails. Thrawn noticed this and reached out on the hologram, his blue, illuminated hand reaching out but unfortunately going right through you. He flinched back, his hand slowly returning to his side and his expression falling.

“Those were some of the best memories of my time at the Empire, with you, and only you” You looked at Thrawn with pure sincerity and he knew instantly you were telling the truth. His throat went dry at your confession and for a second he had no clue how to reply, your words caught him so off guard but he didn’t waste too much time coming up with words to respond with.

“The feeling is mutual, Rcati, you’re the only person I’ve really confided in” Thrawn looked conflicted as he let the words slip through his teeth, the hands you weren’t able to see below the hologram were clenched and his knuckles were light blue. He was struggling to get his emotions out, but he loved to hear you do it.

You said nothing in reply to his comment, you only smiled at him. Looking at you now, Thrawn thought you were stunning. You were glowing as you looked at him with such emotion, the tears visible in your eyes even though none of them spilled and the breathtaking smile covering up half of your face. It truly was a wonderful sight to see, it made him realise for the first time in years that he really needed something like this. The Empire was a tough place to work in, he never knew how much he needed you to keep him afloat until this very moment, even the moments before on the hologram.

You were his life, and you always had been, but he was sad that he was only realising that now. He had known you since birth, known you for 42 whole years and now did he know you were his reason. His reason for what? Life. To carry on. To push through the war until it was over and hopefully see you after it was all over. Omani as well. Maker, he needed Omani just as much as he needed you.

“What’s on your mind?” The Chiss asked in a small, quiet voice, as if someone outside was passing by his chamber door. You ruffled your hair once again with the discarded towel on the sink and rolled your neck around your shoulders, sighing pleasantly at the released tension.

“Us” You answered in a hushed whisper, your mouth snapping shut after the word slipped through your teeth and made it’s way to Thrawn’s attention. He smiled at your reply, looking down shyly at his clasped hands before peeking back up, his scarlet gaze piercing right through you. You felt exposed but you didn’t want to hide, he had seen through you many times before.

“Same with me” He seemed to lean in closer through the hologram, you got a sense you were leaning in too and trying to kiss him, but the distant echo of Rebels chatting to each other caused you to whip your head around to the entrance of the comunual showers. Thrawn seemed to hear it as well and his once calm expression was replaced with a disappointed frown. He wasn’t worried of getting caught, he was pissed your time was cut short.

“I have to go” You whispered, looking back to Thrawn with eyes full of reluctance. He nodded once, running a hand through his face and closing his eyes momentarily, you genuinely thought for a second he done that on purpose just to rouse you up, but you brushed it off your shoulder and cleared your throat.

“Till next time, Rcati ton” Thrawn smirked, his fingers still tangled in the back of his scalp as he leaned forward to the holo device to hang up.

“W-wait” You called out just before he hung up, his gaze raised on you once again and he bit back a smile.

“Take care of yourself, for me?” You blushed, head hung low but your eyes were still connected to his. Thrawn’s face softened and he sent you a small curt nod. “Ch'ah tsucarah” He spoke softly, catching you off guard slightly with his sudden use of Cheunh but you chuckled softly in reply.

“Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn?” Thrawn tilted his head to the side, his hand playing with the hairs on the back of his neck which stood on edge, he wasn’t anxious, he was just excited at the interaction between you.

“Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah” You chuckled.

“Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae” Thrawn ushered in a quiet voice, laughing softly as he spoke which made you too laugh.

“Till next time, Mitth’rawn’nuruodo” You nodded, eventually tapping the red button to end the call and feeling a part of yourself leave with Thrawn the moment the bright blue glow of the hologram disappeared, leaving you alone in the refreshers once again and in the unpleasant white light on the ceiling.

“So we’ve got squadrons coming in left and right, we should relocate our star fleet to somewhere where the Empire doesn’t find our base” You said in a clear voice to those standing around the holo table, including Kallus and Zeb, who had recently returned from a mission with the Phoenix squadron. Hera was standing nearby, listening into the negotiation which you were the chairman of currently, listening in to people’s different ideas and hopefully coming to a mutual conclusion.

Kallus was recording down everything being said, typing frantically on his data pad and gathering all of the different ideas from everyone so you could look into it after the meeting and hopssully come up with an idea to settle things. He was a busy man, he worked his ass off and you noticed how much he cared for this rebellion.

He never changed throughout the years, even if he was a cold hearted Imperial once, so were you. You had your fair share of horrid deeds that you certainly weren’t proud of, and neither was Kallus. But you Teo seemed to be like two peas in a pod when it came to planning meetings and getting a mutual agreement. He was your right arm, always.

“I think we should take the fleet outside of the outer rim” Someone came forward, a young zabrak female with full suited soldier uniform and a sniper attached to her back.

“That might be a good idea, but the outer rim has more New Republic ally’s than outside of it. Still, I shall record that down- Kallus” You regarded the blonde man standing opposite you at the table, his dark eyes focused on you in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You held your stare on him for a moment longer than necessary, before turning your attention back to the zabrak who smiled at you, grateful you took her suggestion into consideration.

“Any other ideas?” You asked, eyes looking around the table in one quick glance before turning to Kallus who pursed his lips at the sudden silence that fell on the group.

“I-uh, pardon me for asking Senator, but weren’t you at the Senate negotiations on Naboo yesterday?” A young rebel man raised his hand with a polite expression on his face. You tensed at his question and nodded.

“Is it true? Was Grand Admiral Thrawn really there?” Another rebel asked with a peeked interest, desperation to know about the events that took place yesterday, the events you were trying so hard to stop thinking about. Kallus’ eyes widened and he felt himself tense for you, this wasn’t going to end as well as you and him had planned.

“It’s true” You sighed, resting your hands on the edge of the holo table and trying your best not to look too uncomfortable about the conversation.

“Woah, how did you get out?” The same rebel asked with a look of astonishment, but you didn’t budge. Your face stayed stone cold and you exchanged an uneasy glance with Kallus who cleared his throat and adjusted his T-shirt collar.

“Save those questions for later, I need you all to focus on the fleet, please” You insisted, hitting your hand slightly on the table with your teeth clenched.

From afar, Kanan and Hera looked at one another, knowing fine well what was going on in your head the moment Thrawn’s name was mentioned. The two of them heard about the events at the Senate, and how you were the one who managed to get Thrawn to prevent any arrests from happening. There had been chatter around the rebel base, and Hera was fearing for you. If your secrets got out, you would be untrustworthy amongst the rebels. And that was the last thing she wanted for you, especially with Omani by your side.

“Meeting dismissed, I shall look at the suggestions and come up with something, for the time being please go and get some rest, it’s late” You waved away all of the rebels who had joined the meeting, bidding them farewell with smiles and nods of the head. Kallus stayed with you and walked around the table once the rebels were away, resting a hand on your shoulder and waiting for you to say something. Instead of words, you unexpectedly grabbed Kallus and wrapped your arms around him, tears brimming at your eyes and lip quivering as you gripped onto his jacket and sniffed. Kallus froze for a second but placed his data pad on the holo table, wrapping his strong arms around you tight and raising a hand to stroke your head.

“It’s alright, shh...” He soothed, rubbing your back and holding onto you as you fought back an army’s tears that started to spill down your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really stressful recently” You cried softly, holding onto Kallus for dear life as he leaned his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes, the smallest crease next to his eyebrow as he listened to your sobs.

“You don’t need to apologise for anything, just let it out” He encouraged, continuing to stroke your head and doing his best to comfort you.

Leaning back, you looked up at Kallus with glossy eyes, cheeks stained with fallen tears and face hot with humiliation. Kallus cupped your cheek, studying your face before frowning at your state and sighing.

“What’s got you so worked up? Is it Thrawn?” Kallus asked with calm articulation, his hands keeping you in place as you wiped away your tears and nodded your head weakly. You couldn’t verbally say anything in fears you would start crying, and Kallus seemed to understand that. Beneath the worried expression on his face, he was angry. He knew he was going for the wrong person, he knew you’d never be over Thrawn.

But he loved you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Ever since Kallus met you on the grounds of the Imperial Palace 16 years ago, far before you fell pregnant, he was smitten with you. Even if he was a higher rank than you, and trained you, and was meant to see you as a mere soldier and nothing more, Kallus always had a soft spot for you.

“I’m going to regret this” Kallus murmured, right before pressing his lips against yours and causing you to freeze in his arms. Your eyes shot wide open, you weren’t expecting this at all. His actions were so sudden and the feeling of his lips against yours made your brain cloud over with endless thoughts. It was nice being kissed, it always had been, but this wasn’t right.

Even though it wasn’t as good as a kiss from Thrawn, you closed your eyes and kissed him back, maybe just to feel something aside from the stress. You hesitantly cupped Kallus’ cheek and tapped it a few times, signalling for him to pull away. You didn’t want the kiss to go any further, you didn’t want to lead him on, and by the looks of it he knew what he had done was a mistake.

“That was nice” You commented with an assuring smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb and making him chuckle awkwardly at your words.

“I’m sorry, I felt like if I didn’t do that any sooner I’d beat myself up” He hung his head low, frowning and probably mentally strangling himself, but you didn’t like the way he looked so sad. He knew you didn’t feel the same way towards him, maybe you did like Kallus, but you weren’t over Thrawn. Either way, you tilted his chin up and kissed him once more. The blonde man sighed against your lips and closed his eyes momentarily before grabbing your hand and taking it away from his face, eventually pulling back once again and frowning.

“What was that for?” Kallus raised a brow, looking confused but also amused at the same time.

“I wanted to even things out” You smiled, nudging him playfully to try and get rid of some of the tension surrounding you both. He seemed to be pleased by your comment and laughed. The sting of rejection was soothed by your kindness and Kallus realised that you didn’t feel any different about your friendship with him. But still, it hurt.

“Are we gonna have to start giving each other goodnight kisses now? Cuz if so-“ You joked.

“No, don’t be silly- unless that’s what you want of course” Kallus joked back with a relaxing demeanour. You rolled your eyes at his comment and shoved him playfully, eventually bringing him in for a hug once again and feeling shitty for not feeling the same towards Kallus.

“Well that was weird” Hera whispered to Kanan and Zeb who were watching from afar. The two men nodded in agreement, confused stares on their faces as they watched you depart from the ex-ISB agent and make your way to your chambers.

How weird, indeed.

#star wars #x reader #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn #star wars rebels

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arashikitten · 4 years ago

Text

What the Shadows Bring to Light

Wukong liked to think he had a sixth sense when it came to certain things. In a way, he sort of did, what with the golden eyes and demon sensing capabilities. But he also liked to think that he had a sort of foresight, an ability to know if something was wrong regardless of whether or not he was there if or when something bad happened.

It was something that had grown even stronger as he started to train Qi Xiaotian, which he attributed to the kid’s almost uncanny ability to stumble upon powerful demons, most of whom hadn’t been seen in well over 300 years. Seriously, the kid’s ability to get into trouble would have almost been something to be respected, if not for the fact that he made it very difficult for Wukong not to leap into battle to help whenever Xiaotian got even a little hurt. Xiaotian needed to learn how to do all of this himself: eventually, he’d need to grow out of the Monkey King’s shadow.

Which was why he’d been attempting to ignore the overwhelming feeling of wrongness that had been slowly creeping up in the past three months. It had started when his friend, the daughter of one of the dragon families, had called Xiaotian in a panic during his training. Something about a giant monster destroying the city, they needed the kid’s help to stop it, the usual. No reason to be worried.

But then Wukong got a glimpse of the creature from the kids phone, and suddenly there was a swirl of familiarity mixed with deep seated unease. He knew, knew, that he had seen that creature somewhere before, but every time he tried to remember just who or what it was,he came up blank.

So, he’d let the kid go and fight. An uncharacteristic sense of worry settled in his gut, as if trying to warn him that something, something was wrong. Wukong, for the first time in almost twenty years, was unable to go to sleep that night. Worry and anxiety were a crushing weight on him, his mind wandering down dark paths as he attempted to lull himself to sleep.

This led to him being rather… irritable the next day, snapping at Xiaotian in his sleep deprived state. The look the kid had given him, frustrated and confused and hurt, caused a tidal wave of guilt to crash over him, and he had cringed slightly before offering the kid a bag of peach chips as an attempt at an apology. He’d taken them, and hurt and frustration were replaced with concern that just made Wukong feel even shittier.

At least the kid had been ok.

This tension, this oppressive anxiety, continued for three months, fluctuating in severity. Sometimes, it was barely noticeable, nothing more than a small buzz in the back of his head. Other times, it was thick and heavy, covering him like a weighted blanket, stifling the air from his lungs and making his ears ring. There was an ever present danger, lurking beneath the calm veneer of his training with Xiaotian, and it scared the hell out of Wukong. Something, someone, was after his successor, and Wukong had a feeling that whatever it was, it would be much more powerful than the Demon Bull Fam.

And then, last night, something changed. He’d been jolted out of a restless sort of sleep in a panic, terror and worry and dread suffocating him in the beginning of a panic attack as visions of Xiaotian laying bloodied and burned on the ground flooded his brain, shoving out any thoughts of calm or peace that tried to tell him that his kid was safe, that wasn’t- isn’t real, his kid was alive-

Macaque. Wukong’s blood froze. No. No no no nononono. Macaque was dead. He’d been dead for years, gone like dust in the wind. He’d been there, he’d been the one to do it. He’d seen the light vanish from Macaque’s eyes, heard his final breath.

Macaque was dead.

But even through those self-assurances, even as he replayed the memory on loop in his head, he knew. He knew Macaque was alive and well, that he was still out there, that his kid was in danger-

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creeping dread lifted. Fear, terror, concern, they all flooded him like a village before a demon, leaving him tired and drained and confused as hell. The dread-feeling, the ever-present anxiety that Wukong had begun to just accept as a part of his life now, just disappeared, poof! Even the low humming, the slight buzzing in the back of his head, was gone, and for the first time in three months, Wukong’s head was quiet.

Wukong sat back on his little cloud, head in his hands as he sighed. He was being ridiculous. Macaque was absolutely, 100% dead. He’d been there, he’d seen it with his own two eyes: Macaque was dead. Gone. Absent from the world of the living. He couldn’t hurt Xiaotian.

His kid was safe.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

The next morning, the kid had shown up to Flower Fruit mountain at exactly 12:30. He seemed happy, bouncing around the cave with his usual boundless energy. There were no injuries that he could see, aside from a small bruise on the kid’s forehead that he got from running into a tree on his way here. The kid was happy and appeared to be fairly relaxed, no hidden worry or fear in his eyes to suggest that anything bad had happened.

In fact…

Wukong surreptitiously activated his demon sight. Xiaotian’s aura, which always glowed the same golden color as his own, was way brighter than Wukong could ever remember seeing it. Even when the kid had first lifted the staff, when his aura had first flared out like a small supernova, it hadn’t been as strong as it was now.

Just what had happened?

“Hey, Xiaotian. Did anything… particularly strange happen last night? Anything that you can remember?” The kid stopped what he was doing and looked up at Wukong curiously.

“I… I don’t think so? Why?” Concern overtook curiosity, and Xiaotian blurted out “Did something bad happen? Did someone from the court of Heaven send you a message?! DID-“

Wukong shoved a peach chip at the kid’s face, effectively shutting him up. Wukong let out a heavy sigh.

“No, kiddo, it’s nothing like that. It’s just….” Wukong fell silent. That nagging worry, the concern and protectiveness surged back, like the waves at high tide. He didn’t want his so- his successor to freak out, as the young human was prone to doing.

Wukong closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. He’d have to tell Xiaotian eventually. Better to rip the bandaid off now.

“You know how I have the ability to see demons? Even when… even when they’re in disguise?” Xiaotian nodded, of course. He was still a massive fan boy, after all.

“Well… that ability, it’s not just limited to seeing demons in disguise. I can also sense them from miles away, regardless of whether or not they’re in sight. Kind of like- like a um, a spider-sense, if you will.” Xiaotian nodded along, looking fascinated, as Wukong continued.

“Basically, depending on how close the demon is, how powerful it is, and how malicious it is, I’ll get this sort of… buzzing in the back of my head, or my ears will start to ring. Usually, most demons are barely strong enough to set it off, and even if they are able to, usually they’re too far away for me to notice.” He looked down at Xiaotian and braced himself. This was going to be difficult.

“The past three months… it’s been going off constantly. And it was… It was loud, way louder than just about any other demon I’ve faced. It… it was strong enough to trigger that little warning in my brain, from… from all the way in the city, I think. For something to trigger it that much, from that far away…” Wukong trailed off at the dawning look of horror on Xiaotian’s face. Shit. Shit. This was not going as planned.

Xiaotian looked up at him, eyes wide and shining with clear concern and apprehension, and Wukong knew he needed to say something before the kid worked himself into a full-on panic. Now.

“But then, something… changed, last night. Do you remember, earlier, when I said that one of the things that determines how strong the… the “sense” is, is how malicious the demon or whatever triggering it is? Well… last- last night, the activity, or intent, or, or whatever, it peaked for a bit, before just… vanishing. Completely. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I was wondering, if you… if you knew anything about it? About why… about what was triggering that demon sense?” But the kid was already shaking his head, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face as he did so. Damn.

“I don’t think so… I mean, the only demons that have attacked the city in the last three months were some small fry and the Demon Bull fam, and even they’ve been pretty quiet…” Xiaotian trailed off slightly, and worry stewed in Wukong’s gut. Even an hour later, as he waved the kid off, it lingered in the dark corners of his mind, like a poison. Something bad was going to happen, he could feel it.

And Wukong had a bad feeling that it would have something to do with the vision of Macaque he’d had last night. He could only hope that Xiaotian would stay out of it.

————— ————— ————— ————— —————

Stupid. He’d been so, so stupid. He’d known, known that something bad was going to happen, and he’d been right in all the wrong ways.

Wukong had never wanted to be so wrong before. Not like now.

It had been about three hours after the kid had left Flower Fruit when he’d felt it- that punch to the gut, heart being crushed, no air in his lungs feeling that sent him to his knees, gasping for air that just wouldn’t come as panic drenched him in a massive tidal wave. He’d known, with absolute certainty, that something had happened to Xiaotian, that his kid, his son, was badly hurt, that he needed to be there, he needed to help-

Wukong couldn’t remember ever flying that fast before. He’d zipped down Flower Fruit Mountain like lightning, rushing over the city to where he knew Xiaotian’s apartment was. He needed to make sure his kid was okay, he needed to protect his boy-

The scent of blood, warm and metallic and nauseating, overwhelmed him as it was accompanied by smoke and burned flesh. Wukong felt his stomach turn as he leapt off his cloud, ducking into a nearby alley to empty his sensitive stomach. Good Gods, what had happened? What had happened to his successor? His scent was woven in to the blood and burned flesh scent, ripe with terror and pain and oh, Gods, his kid was hurt-

Wukong rushed out of the alley to see the apartment, and immediately a new, fresh wave of horror overwhelmed him. The front wall of the place had been blasted to smithereens, the rubble littering the sidewalk around him. There were cracks in the pavement beneath his feet, interspersed with dark scorch marks and, to Wukong’s mounting horror, small bloodstains. Small fires still burned all over, stinking of smoke and burning plastic. The human fire department was there, along with police and an ambulance-

Wukong’s breath hitched. Xiaotian. Xiaotian was in that ambulance, he was sure of it.

He needed to get in that ambulance. Now. He needed to see, needed to assess how bad the damage was, needed to make sure his boy was alive-

Wukong rushed back into the alleyway, quietly transforming into a small butterfly, before making his way over to the vehicle. One of the windows, up at the front, was still opened slightly. Good. Wukong slipped in to the driver’s side, and landed on the back of the driver’s chair for a moment. There were two doors leading to the back, both of which were shut. Luckily for Wukong, there were two small, square windows that he could just barely see through.

What he saw made him sick.

His apprentice, his successor, his kid, was laying on a stretcher, bandages covering his head, arms, and chest. His jacket and headband had been removed, as had most of his t-shirt, throwing the small parts that hadn’t been bandages yet into stark relief. There were some parts of the skin that were blackened, blood still seeping through the cracked and burned skin. The skin that wasn’t burned, bandaged, or bloodied, was pale and wane, sickly looking, like that of a corpse. Xiaotian’s dark brown hair was a mess, covered still in dust and debris and sticky with blood. An oxygen mask covered the boy’s mouth and nose, and Wukong couldn’t stand to look anymore.

He flew off of the driver’s chair to land quietly on the floor, curled up slightly in the back corner as he tried to just… process what he’d seen.

The world had been muted, blurred to him. Darkness creeped at the edges of his vision, everything becoming an indistinct blob of color and shadow. The ringing in his ears reached a new pitch, interspersed with a low, hollow thumping sound that he would later realize was his own beating heart. He heard the sounds of the ambulance starting up as though he were underwater, muted and drowned out by that ever present ringing-thumping in his ears that only seemed to grow louder as he saw, over and over again, visions of Xiaotian happy smile turning into a broken look of terror as fires consumed him, leaving nothing but a burnt husk comprised of only ashes and bones….

Wukong jolted forward as the ambulance came to a stop. When had they started moving? When had they arrived at the hospital? Wukong couldn’t remember.

He heard the sounds of the stretcher being moved, heard the sound of wheels on pavement as he flew from his little spot on the floor to the still-open doors of the vehicle, fluttering around as doctors and nurses swarmed his kid. They, along with Wukong, rushed into the hospital, pulling him towards the emergency care center.

Wukong started lagging behind them. He was too small, his wings wouldn’t beat fast enough, and the Emergency Care doors slammed shut before he could reach them, echoing with all the grim finality of an executioner’s blade.

Wukong stared unblinkingly at the doors. He felt numb, muddied and blurred and overwhelmed in a way that left him fluttering slowly to the clean, cold white tiles of the hospital floor. Too much. It was all too much. His kid was hurt. His kid was in critical condition. His kid was in pain. He’d seen his kid, just a few hours earlier, healthy and happy and alive on Flower Fruit Mountain, safe and sound and there-

And now he was hurt. Now he needed an oxygen mask just to breath. Now, he was burnt and bruised and broken, his only kid, his child-

Wukong’s breath hitched. He was no longer in the hospital. He was no longer transformed. He was in an alleyway right next to the hospital. The sky had grown darker, swirling with pinks and reds and oranges as stars slowly began to make themselves known. Tears were streaming down his face, warm and wet, leaving damp trails in their wake. He was crouching over, hands covering his mouth as quiet sobs shook him to his core. He could see each little crack in the pavement, each small blade of grass that was struggling to come up through the concrete and reach for the sun.

He hadn’t remembered leaving. He hadn’t remembered transforming back. He hadn’t remembered much of anything, really.

It scared him, not knowing what had happened.

It scared him, the possibility of finding out what had happened.

His kid. His boy. His son. Wukong had known, for a bit know, that he cared about Xiaotian as more than his successor. But this…. Gods, he didn’t even know how to begin to process this.

Guilt came rushing in. He’d known. He’d known that something bad was going to happen, he’d felt in his very bones that his son was in danger, and he’d foolishly let him go with false comforts that the kid could handle himself, that Xiaotian was strong, that his friends would help him.

He remembered, now, sealing away Xiaotian invulnerability. What the hell had he been thinking, doing that? Why had he ever, ever thought that was even remotely a good idea?

And now, Xiaotian was paying dearly for it.

Whispers began playing in his head, a polyvocal taunt that attacked from all sides. Your fault, they whispered. It’s all your fault. You could’ve been there, you could’ve gone with. You knew something was wrong, yet you waved him away to his doom.

And just how many times has he had to fight alone? The voices taunted him, as fresh guilt rained down upon him. How many times did he leave training with you to fight some demon on his own? How many times did you let him go? How many times did he get injured because of your negligence?

Wukong couldn’t breathe under the weight of the voices. He couldn’t hear anything else, he couldn’t see through his tears the setting sun. Your fault, your fault, your fault-

“WHY??!!” The voice, that all too familiar voice, cut through the whispers like a knife. Wukong felt his blood run cold.

Macaque.

Macaque was here. Alive and well.

Macaque, a dangerous, very much not-dead creature, was near Xiaotian. Xiaotian, who was put into the hospital. Xiaotian, who had severe burns all over his body. Xiaotian, who was either in critical condition or a coma, and as such unable to fight back should Macaque decide to kill him.

Hell no.

Wukong stood up. He felt cold, empty. Anger flowed like the stream of a winter river, sharpening his vision to a pin-prick sort of clarity. He saw, clearly, each blade of grass, each window of every building, each little dust particle in the air.

His ears were deaf to everything but the sound of rushing water (or was it his own blood that he heard?), the silence settling over him like a blanket. He heard nothing, not even that dull ringing that had tormented him through the day. The rushing water, the dull beat of a war drum (or was that his own heart?) stayed, however, a symphony of soon to be bloodshed as Wukong slowly floated up from the sidewalk.

His golden eyes were empty of everything but cold, clear rage as they landed on the dark form of the Six-eared Macaque, who was on his hands and knees, trembling. Good. That would make the next part all the easier.

Wukong raised his fist, ready to send Macaque flying. He would not fail Xiaotian again. He would end this, this string of failures, starting here and now with this final blow-

Only for Macaque to raise his head to the heavens, face twisted in fear and regret and agony and loss, and scream, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE ME INSTEAD??!!? WHY?? Why did- didn’t you…. why didn’t you t-take me in… why didn’t you take me instead? Why……”

Wukong stepped back in shock as Macaque shook with sobs, his paws clenched against the concrete of the rooftop. Rage was undercut by confusion, then suspicion? Just what was Macaque playing at? Just what was Macaque, who was a certified lone-wolf, who despised any form of bond with another being, doing having a mental breakdown on top of a hospital?

“Why did…. why did Xiaotian have to be the one to suffer because of my mistakes?” He heard Macaque whisper, and Wukong felt the world disappear out from under him.

#monkie kid #MK #qi xiaotian #six eared macaque #macaque #sun wukong #angst #yeah I know we don’t get to see much of macaque until the end #im sorry #i just ended up writing more than I thought I would #and it ended up spiraling out of control #so by the time I got to macaque #the chapter was already way too long #so #sorry about that #on the bright side y’all get some more juicy Wukong angst!#can I get a hell yeah?#if you thought macaque was gonna need therapy #hoo boy #wukong is gonna be messed tf up by the end of this #i have a general rule of thumb #that anytime I write monkie kid angst #there has to be at least a little Wukong angst #like I’m sorry #but there’s just so much potential?#Like I know we all like to write Red son angst and Macaque angst #and pigsy angst surprisingly #but Wukong just has so much fatherly angst potential #and if there’s one thing I love more than angst #it’s the found father trope

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

Text

The dying and Its blossoming.

The one where Y/N love Spencer Reid, but soon find out that he might or might not have found someone else.

OKAY HELLO, this is the angst i talked about yesterday, it’s sad.. but has a happy ending so don’t cry just yet! anyway the reason why i write this is because i’ve been numb for few days and i want to cry bad so i just decided to write. And this is what i came up with, it made my soft ass cried so hopefully.. it can get through to you too, happy reading! oh and TAAHM is also uploading soon!

MASTERLIST OF ALL MY WORKS.

WARNINGS : ANGST, heartbreak stuff, fluff at the end, thats it i think!!

————🍃————

It was the little things he did that caught your eyes since you joined the team. The way he first introduced himself to you, shaking your hands with the brightest smile beaming on his face. The way he always put a coffee on your desk before you arrived. The way he would review all the case with you, going over the files together and staying late to work on paperworks together. The way he called you a week after Maeve’s death and asked you to stay on the phone. So on and so forth.

Falling for Spencer Reid is inevitable, how can it not be inevitable? when you and him practically do all things together, Dr Who marathons, Drive to Rossi’s, even accompanying him to Vegas one time to visit his Diana.

The first time you felt it, felt the spark— you shook away your thoughts and scoffed at yourself, it’s just a stupid crush. You tried, tried so hard to believe that it was just a stupid crush. Yet the more time you spent together, the more your heart take over your brain, convinced you to love him, and convinced you to think that he’s in love with you. Truth and confession aside, you could’ve sworn he’s in love with you, these are facts right? all these moments? surely it has to mean something to him, like it meant something to you.

Confuses and frustrated, the next person you called was Emily, your closest friend besides Spencer. She knows how head over heels you are for him, and how much you’re willing to do anything for him. So that night you spilled all your confusions and worries as you sipped on your wine, your teeth constantly biting your nails— if Spencer was here, he would’ve told you that “Y/N, do you know that biting your nails—“ and you would listen to him contently even if you already knew what he was about to say.

“It’s just— i’m not crazy to think he loves me back right? or at least like me?” You stresses, chugging down the last bit of your drink as you hear Prentiss chuckled on the other side.

“What? No Y/n, look i’ve practically grown up with you guys, and all i can say is that you both really need to realize how much you actually need each other, so stop worrying, go get your man.”

Now when Emily said that, she didn’t mean it as literally going over to Spencer’s house like what you were doing right now. Only wearing an oversize sweater and pair of jeans, you looked so comfy inside those sweater paws that you let out an annoyed huffed, ‘now he’ll think i’m a child’ then an idea popped inside your head, causing a big cute smile to appear on your cheeks. Your hand reached to the backseat, sighing when you find what you were looking for; Spencer’s purple sweater.

Now you didn’t stole it, he gave it to you, because you’ve mentioned one morning that “They are all sold out Spence! you’re one of the lucky ones” The annoyed look on your face must be so embarrassing that he gave his godforsaken lilac sweater to you the next day, with the Spencer reid’s famous smile “Here, you can keep it, i already washed it but it’ll probably smells like me still cause i smell like my clothes and i used my—“

“Lavender, you always use lavender for your clothes, i remember Spencer! oh my heavens! Thank you.” You can’t forget how seemingly happy he looked, cheeks flushed, as flushed as yours.

You sighed contently at the thought, as you exited your car, clutching his sweater on your chest as you head up to his apartment. Now you see, if the plan does work you’ll just say that you need for him to wear it again because the smell starting to wear off, which made you giggle. So you jog upstairs quickly to his apartment door before knocking, “Spencer?”

You frowned, usually he always opened his door right after you knock, why’s he taking so long? so out of worry you knock few times “Hello? Spencer?” this time you were met by voices of two people, giggling and hushing each other, as they got closer, you giggled in thought ‘maybe you’ll find garcia there who knows?”

But the moment someone opened Spencer’s door your eyes went wide, and your brain tries to make a sense out of what you’re seeing. Here standing in front of you is a girl, a stunning woman you’ve neither met or recognized but one thing you recognized is how well Spencer’s sweater clung on her body, and how happy she looked while she’s standing on his door wearing his clothes with his mug in hand.

“May i help you?” She asked with a smile, you could see the blue colored scrub bottom on her, A surgeon, judging by her uncharacteristically warm welcome, you guessed pediatrics. Damn it Y/N no time for profiling.

“Is spencer he—“

“Who is it, love?”

Oh... so this is why he canceled your usual movie night two days ago, this is why he’s been saying he’s busy when you asked him to drive you to your usual hangout library, this is why he’s been so happy recently.. this is the reason. a mid 20 possibly 30 years old gorgeous Surgeon with a warm smile and impossibly sweet attitude.

“Uh i think she’s your friend from work, Y/N right?”

You concluded then and there that you don’t like how she said your name, it was selfish but you hated how kind it sounds whilst you’re here standing in front of her, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Then when you thought you’ve seen it all, your eyes locked with Spencer, he— looked so content and comfortable, happy. He looked so happy with his...

“Y/N, hi what are you doing here so late? oh and Y/N meets (G/N) and (G/N) meets Y/N, she’s my best friend from work”

So thats what you were, Best friends who acts like a couple, best friends who hold hands, best friends who shared a drunken kiss, best friends who poured everything to each other, best friends who— you can go on and on yet you can feel how tight your chest is becoming, Anxiety— fuck you have to get out of here.

“Y/N?”

“I-i, uh here’s your um sweater, i— figured you might want uh it back, alright i gotta go now.” Spencer didn’t missed how your hand trembles so bad when you handed him the sweater, or how glassy your eyes looked, or how your face looked like it was drained of color, and how you struggled to breathe, her anxiety attacks.

“Y/N wait!” Before he could mention anything, she went down quickly and running towards her car.

“What was that all about?” His girlfriend asked him, which he shook his head in reply, and muttered “no idea, let me check” So he went down, to no surprise, her car was speeding away.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N came home wishing she could’ve been smart enough to noticed the damn signs, or smart enough to never let her heart fooled her into thinking a genius, a guy like him would ever have any feelings for her.

She went to the bathroom, not bothering to wash her face instead she sat down near the sink and then she cried, she hugged her knees and Y/N cried that night, cried so hard that she tire herself out, falling asleep on the floor of her bathroom.

——————

The next morning, she woke up with a headache that’s practically yelling at her to take some meds and drink, her eyes opened slowly as she found herself laying on the cold bathroom floor. Slowly she tried to get up, holding onto the nearest wall as she feel her knees buckled and her head pounding, she let out string of curses before managing to stand fully, leaning over the sink to see herself in the mirror.

The sight is terrifying, her eyes bloodshot red, her face looks dull drained of color, her lips dry, her hair is a mess and her nose is runny. She continue to stare at her misery some more until her phone rang, flaring up the headaches. Great.. Must be a fucking case.

“Hello?” She mentally cringed hearing herself, she doesn’t sound like herself, she sounded like she just drank 30 bottles of alcohol then managed to broke her vocal cords.

“Hi... Y/N are you okay?” Emily’s voice was soothing at least, she sighed as she gulped down an aspirin and took some clothes out of her closet.

“Yeah, We have a case?” She knew that Emily would dig up the conversation more if she didn’t jumped straight to the point, and Y/N is in no mood to talk.

“Yes, wheels up in 40 but if you cant—“

“I’ll be there in 10.”

—————

Y/N took a quick shower, before putting on your work pants, a simple V-neck t-shirt and top it with a blazer, quickly gulping the rest of her water before combing her hair and then head out the door. When she parked her car, her memory drove back to last night, causing her to groan in mental and physical pain— tears welling in her eyes as she violently hitting the steering wheel.

“Not now, Not fucking now.” She closed her eyes before leaning back against the headrest and take a deep breath, calming herself down. She prayed to herself that she won’t break down if she sees Spencer.

She won’t break down.

She keep chanting that inside her pounding head as she walked out of the elevator, entering the bullpen, quickly grabbing her go bag and place it on top of her desk before heading upstairs to the meeting room.

She knew where he usually sit, so when she entered the room, she tried her best to look at Garcia, presenting the case. “Sorry i’m late, traffic is a damn bitch, Double homicide Garcia?” She asked, as she sit down between Emily and JJ, looking down at her files, noticed how stupid she was to use files instead of the tablet which she refused so she could review the cases with Spencer on the plane, Now look who’s laughing. What she didn’t realized realized is that all eyes were on her disheveled looking state, no amount of make up could cover the misery, i suppose.

“Yes, we’re thinking surrogates for a blond woman with wealthy family. Y/N are you okay?” She visibly tensed, hearing his voice is like opening up a fresh wound and pour some acid on top. She wished he could just shut up and not talk to her anymore, not now or in few days at least.

“Fine. Garcia, any other leads?” Y/N looks up to Garcia, to find her with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to say something. But Y/N has the pleading look in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head made Garcia shook her head and replied with a small “Nuh uh thats it, the rest is on your file” Nodding at her with a silent thank you, you get up and left the room, which in other cases Emily won’t appreciate but she let it slide because she knew something’s wrong.

“Y/N” Not him again, you muttered on your head, as you zipped up your go bag.

“Y/N..” Then he touched you, touched your arms, he touched you and you exploded, all your willpower ceased to exist as you swat his hand away and giving him a warning.

“Don’t touch me unless necessary, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case, and do not call me by my first name, it’s agent Y/L/N, have a good day Dr.Reid”

—————

Throughout the entirety of the case, neither you nor spencer talk to each other, only piling up opinions about the case, the team have caught the unsub of course, so now you’re heading back to DC.

The longer you sit on the very opposite end to where Spencer sit, your mind started to wonder back to what happened three days ago. Being on the case has definitely helped distract you from the reality that Spencer Reid has a girlfriend and that you’re a fool to ever believed that he could love you. You’re so deep in thought whilst looking at the soft curls of his hair, you didn’t realized Emily has sat down next to you.

“A girlfriend?”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend doesn’t he?” Your eyes darted to Emily’s as you sighed heavily, closing your eyes and leaned your head against her shoulder. “She’s a surgeon, pediatrics i think, she probably smarter than i am, um she smile a lot and she’s holding a cup of coffee when i arrived so i’m guessing she’s a nice person, there’re cat fur on her hair so i guess she has a cat which he should’ve hate being a germaphobe and all but i guess she love that kind.” Y/N half whispered half yelled, as she stared at his poking head still that is before she heard Emily burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N you profiled her?”

“Em!” You whined as you shove her shoulder, you crossed your arms on your chest as you huffed and pout like a child. “I’m sorry it’s just.. oh god you even notices cat hair” She laughed again, which caused you to laugh loudly, feeling the joy overcome you in full force before you started to cry, not knowing why. Tears kept on falling down your face as Emily hugged you and rubbing your back “Its okay, let it out sweet girl. I got you.” That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

—————

It’s been a week since the last case, you’re finally able to hold yourself up and not cry every 2 hours is an achievement. You spent your time on an autopilot mode, woke up, work, avoid Spencer depending if there’s a case or not, then lunch, cried in the bathroom, paperwork, avoid Spencer, return home, cried again watching Dr Who, falls asleep, woke up and repeat. That’s how you’ve been for a week, and you know how difficult it is to move on but you’re trying and thats what matters.

Knock knock

You furrowed your brows at the sound, Emily wasn’t supposed to be here until 2 PM, so why’s she visiting now at.. 11 am? You sighed as you put down your tub of ice cream and opened the door only wearing your pajamas since its sunday.

“Emily, its way to early to— Dr.Reid?” You can’t believe your eyes when you see a very nervous looking Spencer at your door, your heart still thump hard at the sight of him which you whined at inside— you still love him after everything. Damn it. You took a deep breath as you heard him say your name, before moving backwards to slam the door at his face,

“No! no no wait Y/N hear me out! please!” His voice cracks as he hold the door so you won’t have a chance to slam it in his face.

“What the fuck do you want? Is being an asshole and destroying my life enough for you?” You half yelled, as you turn around and let him see your angry tears. You were so mad at him, you hated him so much, yet you still love him just as much if not more.

“I know, i know you hate me and i deserved it. But please hear me out, you deserve explanation.” His voice are quivering, signaling he was about to cry as you chuckle darkly,

“Damn right i am. But i’m done, done with your games, i can’t keep up with you— i will never be enough and you have.. have someone so please just go and i’ll forget this will ever happen” You plead as your voice soften, you’re just exhausted, you want it to stop, you want to stop hurting. So you shoved him away before pushing the door,

“I love you! I’ve always loved you.” Your movement froze as you hear him continue, your tears still falling freely from your eyes

“The only reason why.. why i dated her is so that i can get over you. I thought.. i thought you’ll grow tired of me soon, and i don’t want to be the one who’s hurt so i.. i found her but i love you, i never stopped”

“You cant just assumed things like that Spencer! You can’t. You should’ve asked me you should’ve told me!” You’re full on yelling now as you let him in, god your neighbors is going to hate you.

“I know! I know but i never handled rejection well and you know that! everyone left me, my dad, Gideon, Morgan, Emily at one point, Hotch, and maybe my.. mom soon. I’m sorry Y/N, i really am, i’m— i’m sorry for being such a coward, for not telling you, for not—“ You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in a desperate ‘i love you’ manner, you didn’t care, you just love him, and he could be lying but why? why would he be lying? You pulled back as you stare at him

“Have you end it?”

“5 days, 17 hours, and 28 minutes ago” You chuckled, the first time you chuckled after such a long time, as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“I love you too..” You whispered, causing him to hug you tightly as you both sob into each other’s arms, whispering I love you’s again and again like it’ll never be enough.

“I love you, Y/N Y/l/N, i swear.”

“I love you, sorry about calling you an asshole” You laughed nervously before he chuckled and leaned to push you on the couch, “You might have to make it up to me..” He teased, and you let out a grunt. “Fine, Blow jobs for a week anywhere you want..” His face beamed and he blushes before tickling you, “Deal, Baby.”

“Wait Spencer so does this mean—“

“Y/N, will you be the girlfriend of this asshole?” You let out a tear before nodding and tackling him to the couch to hug him tightly “yes, yes, yes i will” He kissed your lips quickly, reaching for his satchel and pull out a lilac sweater,

“I believe it’s yours”

“Like you’re mine?”

“Yours, always.”

——————

blurb requests are open! send some in, any genre is fine, and please like + reblog! if you have any constructive criticisms or feedback please private message me, thanks!

#spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagines #insufferableblurb

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

[12:41]

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: very slight angst, fluff

word count: 2.3k

warnings: i do not think there are any?

a/n: entirely self indulgent and inspired by a flareup of my very own body rude disease, very soft mingi being a literal angel

it’s better to address your pain than to cause someone else pain, but late is still better than never

maybe you should have told mingi about it when you first started dating, but you hadn’t had an actual flare-up in months then, so it didn’t feel important - especially not when he’d started having issues of his own, being forced to rest and unable to perform with his dance team for a while. it wasn’t a priority, and you hadn’t wanted him to worry when you were fine. and you were still fairly fine when he was finally able to perform again, to do all the things he wanted, when he was so happy again; you just didn’t want to ruin this with a disability that barely even affected you at the moment.

but then you did get a flare-up, maybe caused by overexerting yourself when mingi had asked you to come to one of his practices with him and tried to teach you a little of their newest dance, which you let him even though you knew that it might not be the smartest idea. or maybe it was just because you didn’t have one in amazingly long, and it was just too good to be true, so your body needed to remind you who was in charge. it didn’t really matter either way, because now you were in pain, were exhausted, and, which bothered you most, were unable to pretend that nothing was up.

the first week or two you tried to ignore your symptoms, somewhat successful, but past experience should have told you that that was a stupid idea because it only made things worse, and after like eleven days of pretending you were barely able to leave bed anymore. you tried to play it off as a cold when mingi got worried, but when that cold started lasting more than two weeks he didn’t believe you. and because you still hadn’t told him about whatever shit disease caused your body to act like this for him the logical conclusion was that it was his fault. you seemed to avoid him, spending all your time either in bed or in the bathroom, and your bathroom trips took much longer than they used to. an hour or more for showering, upwards of fifteen minutes to just go to the toilet? it felt like you just wanted an excuse to be away from him. you used to love cooking with him, but now you probably hadn’t even really seen the kitchen in at least a week, and, considering how he didn’t want to spend all his time in bed now that he didn’t have to, probably not him either. it made him insecure, caused anxiety to creep up on him, the fear that now that you didn’t have to baby him anymore, that he didn’t give you a task, a purpose anymore, you’d lost interest. and that fear lingered, made worse by the fact that you didn’t even try to touch him anymore (little did he know that moving at all left you exhausted, left your limbs feeling heavy, that you could barely even rub your eyes without feeling like it had drained you of the last little bit of energy left in your body and left you needing a several hours recovery period), until he decided he had to talk to you.

“y/n?”

the way he sounded like he was calling for a random friend on the other side of the street rather than his girlfriend scared you. you knew you’d not been giving him a lot of attention lately - you couldn’t -, and now you were scared he was tired of you.

“hm?” the fact that you couldn’t even sit up to show him that you were actually listening made you so angry with yourself. you were just laying there as if it didn’t even matter.

“can we talk?”

“what’s wrong?”

getting the words out was hard, but the tall male knew he had to do it sooner or later. so he did it, now.

“do you even still love me?”

you looked at him in shock, unable to fully comprehend what he meant, but as soon as you did you started protesting.

“wha- mingi, i- of course i do, i love you. i love you.”

he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“it doesn’t feel like it. you don’t even try to spend time with me anymore, at all. is- is it because i don’t need your help like that anymore? are you bored with me?”

had you really given him that impression? that you were bored with him?

“baby boy… come here.” and you opened your arms for him, for a few seconds, as long as you could, before you had to let them sink back to the mattress. and it felt like it was just a poor attempt from you to pretend he was wrong, still without having to put any effort into actually showing him that he meant something to you. and maybe it was childish, but he didn’t want to be the one to come this time. he wanted you to come.

“no. you come here.”

one look at him told you that he meant it. even though logic told you that he’d understand if you explained, that he’d come to you right away, you didn’t want to. you were… ashamed. you didn’t want to be weak now when you’d been strong for him all this time. instead of doing the sensible thing you forced yourself up, out of the bed you’d barely left for who even knows how long now, and towards him. your steps were clumsy, your legs hurt, and you just wanted to cry, but you were determined to make it. so you did, clinging to him for dear life as soon as you were close enough, trying to take some weight off your legs because even though holding yourself up by the arms around mingi’s neck was painful it hurt less than standing without any support.

“i love you, mingi, please don’t doubt that.”

were you crying because of the pain or because you were scared of losing him? you didn’t know, but you were crying. and he was still hurt, he really was, but he also couldn’t stand seeing you cry like this, so he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“then what’s wrong? why do you never want to be around me anymore? or touch me? this is the first time in days that you initiated anything and i still had to tell you to do that. it feels like you don’t want me anymore.”

now your boyfriend was crying, too, and as much as you wanted to comfort him right there you had to sit down. everything hurt, your arms and legs and head and heart.

“bed”, you practically begged, despising the way you couldn’t even stand for more than five minutes without being desperate to sit down again. he complied, half dragging your weak body to the place you so longed to be.

as soon as you felt the mattress against your legs you all but let yourself drop to the bed like a sack of potatoes, which led to you not exactly laying the way one usually laid in a bed, your legs dangling off the end where mingi was still standing and your body bent kind of weirdly over the crumpled up blanket you had left behind when you’d made your way towards him and which was now causing your upper back to be up in the air while your head was bent down at an awkward angle due to the difference in altitude.

“i’m sorry i’m such a horrible girlfriend”, without as much as an attempt to change positions, which had him slightly worried, “it’s… i love you, and i wish i could be better. but it hurts. it hurts so fucking much.”

“what hurts?” being with him? had he done something? was that why you didn’t want to be around him - because he’d fucked up without realising and never even apologised?

“everything. moving. not moving. breathing. everything hurts, mingi, and i want it to stop.”

it was then that he realised, and he felt incredibly stupid. it wasn’t like he didn’t recognise this kind of behaviour - he’d acted similarly when his pain had been at its worst. it just hadn’t occurred to him that this might be the reason.

“how long?” and now it didn’t bother him anymore that he was the one pulling you into his chest as he laid down next to you - it bothered him that he’d doubted how much you’d wanted, needed that when he felt you relax into his touch.

“i don’t know. a month or two.”

“wait, you went out with me when you felt like this?”

if you’d had the energy to lift your head you would’ve seen the shocked and pained expression on his face as realisation hit him of just how much you’d gone through without him knowing.

“it wasn’t that bad.”

“it got worse the more you did?” it was only half a question, because mingi knew that that was how it was.

“i just didn’t want to keep you home when you were finally having fun again. i didn’t want you to worry.”

“baby…” he didn’t even know what he wanted to say, because there was no good thing to say to that. you wouldn’t have kept him from having fun, but he knew those worries all too well, so he couldn’t even blame you.

“how bad is it right now?”

you wished the way his big soft hand was rubbing your arm did anything to make you feel better, physically, but it didn’t. the only thing that would help right now was sleeping, but even that hurt. the time until you fell asleep, the pressure on your shoulder and hip bone. and instead of an answer your boyfriend got you crying at the hopelessness of your situation and knowing that, no matter what you did, you’d be in pain.

“that bad?” you just sobbed more, and you could feel from the way his body tensed that he was resisting the urge to pull you closer, hold you tighter, because it might hurt.

“is there anything that helps?”

you’d have to shake your head or speak, but you didn’t want to do either. you wanted to fade away until this stopped, but you had no way of telling how many more days, weeks it would be. that was the worst part of it, maybe; knowing that it would get better again, because it always did, all symptoms almost vanishing, but you never knew for how long they’d be gone and how long the next flare-up would last.

“are you comfortable? do you want to sleep? eat?”

replying still wasn’t in the realm of the possible, and it seemed like your sweet boy quickly caught on to that, because he told you: “one tap is no, two taps is yes. does that work?”

you tapped his chest twice, lightly but you did, glad to have found a way of communication with him that wouldn’t take just as much energy as the other possibilities.

“do you want to eat?” one tap.

“sleep?” two taps.

“are you comfortable right now? nothing you’d like me to change?” one tap. it was embarrassing, but your clothes hurt. even though it was just pyjamas they felt too tight, the elastic waistband made you feel like someone was gripping your hips harshly, and while you knew that wouldn’t happen you also wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise. the shirt had an uncomfortable neckline and was slightly crumpled around your body, adding uncomfortable little pressure points, and you wanted to get rid of it.

“can you tell me what to do? or show me?” two taps. then, you moved the hand on his chest to the neckline of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, hoping he’d get it.

“shirt off?” two taps.

“mine?” one tap.

“yours?” two taps.

“we’ll have to sit up for that, baby. but i’ll do the work. that okay?” two taps, again.

he carefully sat you up, supporting your back with his hand, allowing you to lean your head against him until you had to lift it briefly to fully remove the shirt. then he immediately helped you sink back into the sheets, giving you a soft kiss.

“anything else?” two taps.

“what do you need, love?”

that was a question outside the tap system, and he realised at your complete lack of response.

“more clothes?” two taps.

part of you was embarrassed when he undressed you like a little child, but you were glad he did, and you were glad he didn’t try to make the situation sexual. you wanted to sleep, wanted to be held, and most of all you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

he came back up to kiss you again, shortly and softly, very obviously trying to avoid any kind of effort for you. you couldn’t have been more grateful for him than you were in this moment. you couldn’t have wished for a better boyfriend.

“sleep now?” two taps.

“careful, i’ll pick you up. this isn’t comfortable.” two taps, your way to tell him that he could go ahead, that it was okay.

he lifted you so carefully, putting you so you weren’t laying the wrong way across the bed, and then settled next to you, looking at you with those soft, brown eyes.

“i’m your baby boy, but you’re my baby, too. let me take care of you, too. okay?” two taps and a smile that you were convinced would work better than any painkillers ever could.

“i love you.” one tap.

“i don’t love you?” one tap. the gears in his head were shifting, trying to figure out what you meant, before you could see the figurative lightbulb light up above his head.

“you love me?” two taps. then a soft peck to your nose.

“i know.”

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djarinslover · 4 years ago

Text

Good Boy

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: swearing, bdsm dynamic, dom/sub, oral (reader receiving), orgasm denial, office sex, semi public sex, SMUT

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Not my first fic, just first on Tumblr. And I’m a real subby woman, no dominate bone in my body (in the bedroom anyway) but there’s something about making a powerful grown man cry while on his knees that gives me a raging lady b0n3r oop. This was real fun to write, I hope people like it. Anyway. Maxwell Lord is a sub. A sub knows a sub lmaooo

Maxwell has been real bitchy lately. He’s been yelling at employees more than usual, being far too snippy with potential clients, cussing out business partners. Far worse, he was ignoring you. At work and at home. You could handle him ignoring you at work; you understood he would tune you out sometimes when you spoke. But at home crossed a line. He wasn’t the most affectionate person around but there were things the two of you did together. You missed it. He walked around like he had a stick up his ass (more than usual). You began to get grouchy as well because of his attitude, snapping at others. You were used to Maxwell’s moods; you’ve been working for him for five years and been his partner for two. You knew how he was and could be. You just didn’t understand what his problem was. He locked himself in his office at home, not coming to bed until long after you’re asleep, long gone when you awoke.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when you caught Maxwell bellowing at a new intern; a meek young woman with bright eyes and a passion for business. You had been copying files, checking your watch to see how much longer it would be until lunch. You then heard the voice of your lover, words unintelligible. Poking your head around the corner, you saw him in poor Melody’s face, his own face red and veins straining in his neck. She was trembling in front of him, tears pooling in her eyes. You never marched quicker to his side. You shoved yourself between him and the young woman, pushing on his chest to shove him back. His eyes widened, nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge. Your own eyes challenged him. With a huff, Maxwell stormed to his office.

“Are you okay?” You turned around to Melody, sympathy falling over your features.

“Uh, yeah . . . I’ll be okay,” she hiccupped, wiping away tears roughly.

“Go on break, take an extra thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure? Won’t he be angry?”

“I’ll deal with him. Go.”

She flashed a pinched, timid smile before hurrying off, binders clutched tightly to her chest. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. When you turned around, everyone who had been watching the incident quickly went back to work. Rolling your eyes, you marched to Maxwell’s office, copying be damned.

Stopping at Angela’s desk, you said, “Maxwell and I have a very important phone conference that popped up, make sure no one disturbs us.” She nodded, eyes not leaving her typewriter.

You didn’t even bother knocking, just swung the door open. Closing it behind you with a thud, you stood there, hands on hips and eyes narrowed. Maxwell’s head was in his hands, fingers gripping his hair tightly.

“Go away,” he grumbled.

“No, I’m sick of your shit lately,” you hissed. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m not talking about it here.”

“You talk about it now or you can find a hotel to sleep at tonight.”

With the thinly veiled threat, he lifted his head. He looked tired; drained from life. With a sigh, Maxwell sat back. “I don’t know. I’m so damned stressed, things aren’t working out how I would like.”

“That’s life. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on poor interns.”

“I know.” A defeated sigh.

You walked closer to him, carefully like you were walking towards a deer. He was easily spooked and could be sucked back into a bad mood in any instant. Approaching the side of his chair, you swung your arms around his shoulders, hands kneading. He was extremely tense, letting out a groan at the pressure.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed.

Maxwell began to melt into your touch as you pressed harder in soothing circles. Eventually your hands reached his neck. One hand still on his shoulder, the other crawled to his throat, right under his jawline. A groan rumbled in the depths of his throat. You leaned in close to his ear, biting the lobe gently. “Do I need to take care of you?”

“Here?” he gasped, hands twitching on his desk.

“Will it help change your attitude?”

“Yesss.” It came out as a whimper.

Tightening your grip on his throat, you cooed again. “Why didn’t you just ask, pet?”

“I thought I didn’t need it, that I could handle it.”

“You know Mistress is always here for you. Stand up.”

He stumbled out of his chair, standing up straight with his gaze pointed at the door. “Strip.” At your command, his hands fumbled for his shirt buttons. Ripping his jacket off, followed by his shirt, he reached for his pants. Kicked his shoes off, pants and boxers falling down his legs, he turned to look at you. You beckoned him forward, away from the desk further into the empty space of the room. You walked around him, pretending to inspect him. His cock was beginning to get hard, flushing a light pink and jerking against his leg.

“Look at you, my pet. I haven’t even touched you and your cock is already begging for me,” you said, smacking his ass.

A whimper escaped him. You walked back around to look at his face, noticing his bright red cheeks. A sense of pride rushed through you. You loved that you could reduce such a man to a blushing mess. You came closer, one hand tweaking a nipple as the other ghosted over his cock. His throat tightened. You touched the slit, finger trailing down the most prominent vein to grab his balls. They were heavy and hot.

“Do you feel that? All this because you haven’t asked Mistress to fuck you in over two weeks. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

Silence. His eyes flickered down to yours before going back to staring at a spot over your head.

“Answer me.”

“No, Mistress. How does it make you feel?”

“Disappointed, Maxwell.” Your touched pulled away from him so quickly, it was almost like you had been burned. “I promised I would take care of you and all the needs you had. Yet, you denied me and yourself. I’m hurt and disappointed.”

“How can I make it up to you, Mistress?”

You were quiet as you walked away, letting him fidget and think. Digging around the usually locked bottom drawer of his desk, you located the spare leash and collar you had stored away for occasions like this. Walking back to Maxwell, you noticed his hands were fisted into balls at his side, face scrunched up as he tried to hide any anxiety. You showed him the collar before locking it around his neck, tugging at the leash. His face flushed a deeper color, his dick looking equally as red as he dropped to his knees. Leash in hand, you began to walk back to his desk.

Plopping down on the desk, you motioned to him with a finger. “Come.”

He crawled to you, eyes hungry. You cocked your head, foot nudging his dick when he sat in front of you. He moaned, biting his bottom lip. The thought of you pressing a high heel to his exposed cock always turned him on. You could begin to feel your own arousal dripping in your panties, so you wiggled your skirt up over your hips and slid your panties down your legs. Maxwell pulled them the rest of the way off with his teeth, pressing his nose to the crotch. You watched him inhale the scent of your pussy before tugging the leash harshly. He dropped them, meeting your eyes.

“Mistress has been very frustrated with you. I’ve been getting myself off alone. You better make me cum, pet.”

Maxwell nodded eagerly, licking his lips like a starved man staring down a large meal. Considering the two of you haven’t had sex in quite a few weeks, he was starved for you. You let him squirm under you gaze as he stared at your pussy. Juices were coating your inner thigh, letting you and him know how excited you were.

“Eat me out.”

He dived up as fast as he could, tongue touching your clit instantly. You didn’t want to reward him with moans right off the bat, but it felt so good. You almost forgot how his mouth was the closest thing to heaven.

He lapped up the juice you were gushing for him, tongue reaching deep into your pussy, fingers rubbing your clit. He moaned, eyes fluttering up to look at your face. You had your bottom lip caught between your teeth, nails digging into your palm. He moaned again, tongue swirling in a way that had you crying out. You grabbed his hair to pull his face closer. He had the audacity to spell his name on your clit, lips sucking tightly as he went. Fingers reaching up inside of you to touch your g-spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Your thighs tightened around his head, the bottoms of your heels digging into his back. You were teetering over the edge, right there until he flicked your clit with his tongue as fingers rubbed that magical little nub inside you.

“Maxwell,” you whimpered as quietly as you could, hips thrusting onto his face.

With a groan, you came into his mouth, fireworks flickering behind your eyelids. His mouth moved gently, softly.

“Fuck,” you groaned as Maxwell slurped the cum leaking out of you. He licked and sucked until you pushed his head away from overstimulation. You slumped back on your elbows, leash hanging loosely in your hand. You panted, eyes slightly out of focus as you licked your dry lips. That was a damn good orgasm.

You sat up, chest still heaving. Maxwell sat between your legs with bright eyes watching every move. You grabbed him by the chin. A smirk twisted your lips at the sight. He looked so desperate, so needy with glazed over eyes. You tapped a finger to his mouth, which dropped open to suck on it. You pulled it away as your grip tightened on his jaw. He kept his mouth open.

“Look at you, pet. So obedient,” you sighed, running a hand through the now very messy blond hair atop his head. Tugging it, you angled his head back. You spit in his mouth, watching the way his eyes rolled. “Swallow.” Eagerly, he did as you said, opening his mouth once more so you could see he listened. “Good boy. Such a good boy for me, Maxie.”

He sagged slightly in your hand as the praise sent a shiver down his spine. Leaning back so you could look at the erection he was sporting, you let go of him completely. The whine that left Maxwell’s throat thrilled you. You loved the sight before you. Maxwell Lord, a powerful, demanding, mean man with a large, famous company and even bigger ego was kneeling at your feet. Kneeling before you with your cum drying on his face, collar around his neck and precum practically oozing from his cock.

Jerking the leash, you motioned for him to stand. He leapt to his feet, moving to close the gap between the two of you. You let him; just this once without permission. He didn’t touch you, he knew better. Just leaned in close enough for you to smell the cologne you bought him. Tugging him closer, you placed your lips by his ear. “Do you want to fuck me, pet?”

“Yes!” he cried, head jerking to lay in the crook of your neck. You smiled, running your nails down his back. “Yes, Mistress, please! I need you!”

You shoved at his chest, gesturing to his large office chair. “Sit,” you barked. He hurried to the chair, sitting with a straight spine. His cock was weeping, curling towards his soft belly. Straddling his thighs, you stroked his cock. He threw his head back with a cry, lip caught between his teeth. This was the first time in weeks you touched his dick. It must have felt wonderful. Not wanting to waste any more time, you pressed his head against your vagina. His cheeks flushed, eyes teary and pleading with you.

“Do you deserve it?’

“Yes, Mistress. I’ve been good.”

Picking up the discarded leash, you held it tight, making the collar push against his neck. “I disagree. You’ve been a brat lately. Being rude to employees, cussing out company partners. Not listening to me.” As you spoke, you slid down his cock slowly. So slowly you felt like you were punishing yourself. “I’ll let you fuck me, love. You don’t get to cum, though.’

He nodded, face tight with something that looked like pain. He yelped when you finally slid all the way down. He was throbbing inside you, dick twitching at every breath. You could tell he wanted to go wild; grab your hips and pump. Push you down and make you scream. He wanted you to know he was your good boy. “Please,” he whined, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Fuck me.”

His hands grabbed your hips, slamming his upwards as he pulled yours down. The moan that left your lips was a bit too loud but it left him yearning for more. He needed more of those sounds, needed you to cry for him so he knew he was doing a good job. Having you bounce on his cock in his office was nothing new, but today it felt different. More intimate somehow. Maybe it was because he had been neglecting himself, maybe it was because you were angry with him. He didn’t care, he just wanted to admire the way your tits looked still trapped in your shirt, moving with each thrust. He admired the way your eyes were clouded over with lust, lips curled into a smug smile. He admired the way your hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to your face with sweat. You looked like a goddess to him, the most precious thing in his life. It fueled him to thrust harder the longer he looked.

“Maxwe-ELL!” Your voice rose to a high pitch at a particular thrust to your g-spot. He was really giving it his all. Your hands clutched onto his shoulders, watching the way sweat dripped down his temple. You met his eyes, noting the fierceness in his pupils. He lunged up to kiss you as your eyes met, biting your lip with a growl. With an equally rough noise clawing out of your throat, you gripped his hair and tilted his head to the side so you could ravish his mouth. Tongue shoved deep inside, it was like you were trying to find what was left of your release in his mouth.

A sharp breath huffed out of his nose against your cheek, a signature sign he was close. You immediately removed your lips from his and lifted your hips, placing a hand on his throat. He stilled, eyes wide. “I cum first.” He nodded, slowly starting to move his hips again. You kept eye contact as the hand on his throat reached down to rub your clit, helping you get to your second release that was just around the corner. He let out a noise, eyes burning into your as he pulled out slow to shove in fast and deep. Between the new movement and your fingers on your clit, you began to sing. Not losing eye contact, your mouth opened to let out a loud cry. You quaked on top of Maxwell, legs shaking so hard you swore you almost pulled a muscle. As soon as you crossed the peak of the best orgasm in three weeks, you slumped against his chest. He was ever so slowly pumping into you, hands rubbing up and down your back. So considerate.

The sounds of his grunts became clearer as the fog lifted. You came out of the post orgasm blissed daze to realize Maxwell was close to cumming himself. You sucked your teeth, taking his wrists to pull his hands away from your hips. His hips stopped instantly, the whine leaving his throat so pitiful you almost gave mercy to him. Almost.

“Oh Maxwell, you didn’t think I was going to let you cum without permission, did you?”

“No, Mistress. Of course not. I’m sorry. May I cum, please? Please?”

“No.”

You slid off his cock, walking away. Rummaging around your purse, you found the bright pink circle. With a new pep to your step, you pranced back to Maxwell. Mean smirk on your lips, you attached the cock ring to his poor swollen, red cock. Looking at his face, you saw the tears streaming down, lip jutted in a pout. You placed a hand on his cheek, talking softly.

“This is your punishment for the rest of the day. You wear this to your next three meeting and dinner, Mistress will reward you.”

His lip trembled before he sighed. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.” You brushed away sweaty hair, bringing his head to lay on your chest. He nuzzled your breasts, burying his face between the two through your blouse. “And we will be having a talk about your attitude tonight.”

After a few minutes playing with his hair to help him calm down, the two of you dressed. You were fixing Maxwell’s tie when you felt his intense gaze on your face. Glancing up to look at him, you raised an eyebrow. He smiled, cupping your cheeks so you looked at him.

“I love you.”

You swore you could melt through the floor, you could fly with how light you felt. Maxwell barely said the L word (holidays and anniversaries aside), not even after a scene. Your heart was pounding in your throat, blood rushing to your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

“It’s adorable that you manage to feel embarrassed at three little words when five minutes ago you were making me cry.”

“It’s a talent,” you said with a grin. The words were still running through your head. They made you feel like you could conquer anything. Maxwell Lord loved you; that’s all you needed.

The two of you left his office, looking every bit professional as you did when you entered. You chatted in his ear about the next meeting he was going into and right before he entered the room, you grabbed his ass, squeezing hard. He didn’t jump (Maxwell never showed a reaction in front of other people) but he threw a glare over his shoulder. With a wink and a pat on his butt, you set him off to the meeting. Neither of you could wait for tonight.

——-

Part two here!

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #ww84 #pedro pascal #x reader smut

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roseinaugust · 3 years ago

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Like an Old Enemy

Chapter Seven: Meet Me At Our Spot

Summary: Miraculous Enemies AU. Gabriel Agreste has the Black Cat Miraculous in his possession, so when his wife, Emilie, "disappears," he sends his son, Adrien, undercover to pose as Ladybug's partner. Two years later, the once famous duo are sworn enemies. Marinette might have loved Chat Noir once, but now she would stop at nothing to defeat him. Adrien will do whatever it takes to bring his mother back. Best friends in their civilian lives, Adrien and Marinette find obstacles and complications when they can no longer deny their love for each other. But will they be able to understand and forgive the mistakes of their past? Or will they be doomed to end as bitter rivals a second time?

Rated: T

Pairings: Ladybug/Chat Noir Enemies, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Mutual Pining

Word Count: 9,027

Read on: ao3

A/N: I am only posting part of this chapter on tumblr so please read the rest on ao3!

“No, Adrien.” Gabriel Agreste said with a note of finality. Adrien’s presence in his office barely disturbed him as he tapped at something on his tablet.

Adrien hadn’t expected his father to agree right away, but the quickness of Gabriel’s refusal made his temper flare. His fingers began to ache as he clenched his hands together behind his back to prevent an outburst. Gabriel couldn’t be bothered to stop working long enough to have a conversation with his son.

Adrien needed to stay focused. He had to be there, he could finally progress with Marinette—although he still didn’t know if it was a date or not. “Father, I understand your concerns,” he didn’t, “but, the entire class is going. It will look suspicious if I am the only one not attending. People are already starting to grow skeptical of how often I miss class, especially after the akuma on the first day of school.” This was a strategy he’d used once before to gain permission to attend Marinette’s birthday party last January.

Adrien knew the best way to convince his father was to target one of the three things that Gabriel believed were important: his mother, control, or the upkeep of public appearances. The first was a nonstarter; any mention of Emilie would result in punishment. The second would only work if Adrien had something to offer his father in return, which he didn’t. The third however was perfect because it threatened the first two. If anyone grew apprehensive of the Agreste family or the Gabriel brand, everything would collapse. They operated precariously, shrouded in the shadow of secrecy, but there was only so much that could be stuffed in a closet or brushed under a rug. Eventually, someone would peak behind the curtain, unless there was no reason for anyone to go searching.

Gabriel’s eyes flickered up to Adrien for the first time during their conversation before returning to his work. “You had a perfectly reasonable excuse to miss class that day for your photoshoot. There is no reason for anyone to suspect that you are Chat Noir.” Adrien pictured the lucky charm in his pocket, a reminder of what he was doing this for.

“It’s not me that they are skeptical of; it’s you.” Gabriel’s focus diverted to Adrien instantly. Although he craved the attention earlier, now Adrien wished his father’s gaze would return to the tablet, or to his designs, or really anywhere that wasn’t him. He squirmed under the scrutiny, fidgeting and taking a step backwards. He could do this, he was going to fight for what he wanted. “Scheduling a photoshoot on the first day of school brought up questions about your parenting. They are concerned that you’re too strict.” His father’s face was unreadable, a neutral landscape with maybe a hint of annoyance, but Adrien knew mines were buried underneath. He needed to tread carefully. “No one believes you are Hawkmoth, but if someone begins to look into our family…” Adrien trailed off at the sight of his father’s hardening face. He gulped. “If you permit me to go tonight, it should be enough to dispel any concerns.”

Gabriel’s brow lowered, his mouth a line of displeasure. He weighed the options before dropping his attention back to the tablet in his hands. “My decision stands. You are not going.”

Adrien dropped his hands from behind his back, unable to restrain himself. “But, wh-why?” He sputtered, incredulous at this refusal. His father ignored him, typical of his dismissals. Adrien was expected to accept the answer and leave, but he stood motionless in the center of the office. He couldn’t accept this, he needed to be at Andre’s tonight. Disbelief mutated into anger. How was he not concerned? Sure, Adrien was exaggerating the severity of his classmate’s suspicions, but how could Gabriel be so blasé? “It’s just ice cream. I’ll be home—”

“No, Adrien.” Gabriel interrupted, refusing to look up at his son. The sucker punch of his father’s stubbornness knocked the wind out of Adrien. Crescent moons imprinted on his palms as he balled his fists by his sides, red-hot anger burning inside him.

“But—” His negotiation attempts were once again cut short.

“No.” Gabriel clipped.

“Why can’t I go with my friends?” The words overflowed before Adrien could stop them. The incessant tapping on the tablet halted at once as Gabriel snapped his focus to his son.

“Friends?” He asked through gritted teeth. “I didn’t send you to school to make friends. You are there to learn Ladybug’s civilian identity��something you have failed to achieve for the past year!” Although Gabriel remained seated, Adrien stayed alert. He was close enough to the door that should his father pounce, he could escape. “I have allowed you to stay in school despite your inadequacy to complete this task, but it seems my generosity has spoiled you. Perhaps I should withdraw you from school.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he followed the thread of his father’s threat. School was his only lifeline, providing him with a few glorious hours of reprieve from Gabriel and this insufferable house. Without school, he knew the isolation would suffocate him. No Nino, no Marinette, just the expansive fortress of his house and the ever-tightening collar of Gabriel’s control. Any anger welling inside him spiraled down the drain, replaced immediately with quickening heartbeats of dread. “No!” He winced at his desperation and hung his head.

“No what, Adrien?” He scowled at his son, his voice rough as gravel.

“Don’t take me out of school.” Disgust. That’s all Adrien could feel as he begged his father. He was a coward. A useless, intimidated, coward, and he hated himself for the power Gabriel held over him. He’d always surrounded himself with powerful and brave women—his mother, Ladybug, Marinette—to help him find his courage, but without them by his side he was the same scared boy that he feared he would always be. He didn’t have the strength to fight his father alone. And so he didn’t fight; he followed orders, became docile and sacrificed the things he wanted to be able to survive. “Please.” He lifted his head in time to see the twisted turn of glee spreading across his father’s face.

“Very well, but anymore outbursts and I will not be so lenient.”

“Thank you, father.” Adrien choked out, hating the fact that he needed to act grateful to Gabriel.

“Go to your room and be prepared for an akuma tonight.” He resumed working on the tablet.

Although he was dismissed, Adrien stood still, attempting to collect himself. This was not how today was supposed to go. He should be on his way to meet Marinette. She was going to be so disappointed. By some miracle, she had agreed to go with him, and now all of his efforts and anxieties were in vain. She’d understand—she always did when the topic of his father was brought up—but it wouldn’t change the fact that he wasn’t there.

His hands snaked inside his pockets once he started to move towards the exit. His fingers found their way to the lucky charm, a habit after months with the talisman. As much as he wanted to believe in the gift from Marinette, he knew it was obsolete. If it were true, he would have been able to stand up to his father, he would be brave, and free. If it had worked, he would have the things he wanted. Yet, once again, they were just out of his reach. He was a dog, snapping at the tantalizing bone placed farther than his chain allowed. He pulled every which way to reach the prize, but it never budged. He could never get closer, tiring with every second that passed with his struggle, and Gabriel—his owner—loomed behind him, threatening to pull the chain back, dragging Adrien farther and farther away from the bone. Eventually, he would stop struggling; but he still had some bite left in him today.

He reached the heavy wooden door to the foyer and paused. Eyes forward, refusing to look back at his father, Adrien clenched his jaw. Resentment overpowered his obedience as he said, “I wish it were you instead. I wish you had disappeared instead of mom.”

“And I wish it were you.”

A/N: Reminder that this is only part of the chapter so read the rest here

#Miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml enemies au #ladynoir enemies #adrienette mutual pining #ladynoir #adrienette #angst fic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #my fic #like an old enemy

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puddygeeks · 4 years ago

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Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 71: Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ Oғ Tʜᴇ Wᴏʀʟᴅ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episode: Watch The Thrones

Chapter Seventy-One

Stepping outside of the oppressive atmosphere of the Ark, I found that Lincoln hadn’t gone far to escape after his attack.

He stood leaning against the structure, staring into the distance in what I could only assume was an attempt at calming himself and as I stepped closer, I noticed that he wore an intense expression. There was a stream of blood down the side of his face from the deep gash in his head, which clearly needed stitches and I leaned carefully into his eyeline.

“Linkon.”

I addressed him gently, speaking in Trig to ensure that our conversation would remain private as I pulled his attention from his thoughts and as he met my eyes, I could see his vulnerability which flared my protective nature.

“Let me take a look at that.” I offered as I gestured toward his wound and he took a moment to consider me, before bending down to my height so that I could reach.

Using the rag that I’d taken from inside, I gently wiped away the blood from his face and examined the laceration with a grimace. My temper bubbled in my stomach as I treated him, wishing that I had the strength to beat some sense into his attacker, but I had to force myself to remain calm. He already seemed to be battling his own emotions and it would be selfish to allow mine to influence him now.

“This is a deep wound, Linkon.” I advised as I gathered the rag and pressed it over the wound to protect it, ensuring that it was completely covered. “Hold this here for now. You need to keep the pressure up until we get to Medical.”

“No.” He answered abruptly as he took responsibility for holding the rag, but straightened his posture so that he was out of my reach and it was clear that he was not ready to face Abby or the others yet.

“They’re wrong about you.” I stated firmly, unwilling to allow him to sink into despair and he studied me with an unreadable expression. “You do belong here, but not because you are no longer Trikru. You are still one of them, too. In fact, I would say that you are their most valuable member, because you were willing to leave behind everything that you know to help them.” I divulged, pausing to shuffle slightly as he met my eyes and I smiled as I continued.

“We both know that our medical knowledge could help your people enormously. We also know that because of our weaponry, going to war would cause countless deaths for your people. That’s why you are doing everything that you can to secure peace and a better life for them. Your people may not recognise what you’re doing for them, but I do.” I rambled, holding his eye contact unflinchingly and he sighed as he absorbed my words.

“Your people still view me as just another grounder.” He stated with frustration, allowing himself to lower his internal walls to me and I nodded in understanding. “They do not care for all that I have sacrificed. To them, I am no different to Azgeda. Will it ever be enough?”

“You’re entitled to be hurt by what just happened in there. I would be too, especially after everything that you have done for us. It’s vital that you remember that the people responsible for this unacceptable incident are ignorant, small minded idiots whose opinions do not represent this camp. The people who supported you before we found Farm Station still support you. You haven’t lost anything, Linkon. We still consider you one of us and we always will. Oso thro daun ageda.” [We fight together.] I asserted, passion filling my voice as I spoke and I watched as the hurt in his face gradually melted away, until he smiled appreciatively at me.

“Oso thro daun ageda.” He repeated calmly, his eyes sparking with emotion and I smiled at him in return. “You have become a wise warrior, Indigo kom Trishanakru. You would make an exceptional second to Arlo.” He praised, causing my heart to swell at the kindness of this compliment and I touched his arm in a fond gesture.

“Thank you, but I’m plenty busy enough with keeping an eye on all of you.” I remarked with a cheeky wink, before fidgeting to regain my balance as my head spun again.

“I have to get back to Medical. Come on. You can help me and get your head treated whilst you’re there.” I instructed in the hope that he wouldn’t fight me this time and he simply nodded slowly, before falling into step with me.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The ward was surprisingly busy when we entered, as they seemed to be overwhelmed with sick grounders and though I was taken aback by this sudden development, I focused on handing Lincoln over to Abby for treatment. She seemed relieved when she noticed us and led him to a bed to examine the wound.

Kane rushed into the ward with Pike following close behind him, both making a beeline for Abby and I decided to return to my own bed, suspecting that Lincoln would likely already be overwhelmed enough with them arguing around him, without my contributions.

I’d only just placed myself sideways on the mattress, my hands on my knees as I stared at the floor and waited for my dizziness to pass, when I felt someone approaching me.

“I heard that you were hurt.”

A strikingly calm voice announced and I glanced up to find Nyko examining me with the same controlled face that Lincoln often wore. It had been a while since I’d last seen him, but I could tell that he had a similarly noble nature to Lincoln and I appreciated that he continued to support his friend in securing peace.

“Good to see you again, Nyko.” I smiled politely, shifting my position so that I could view him better. “I’m alright. Just need a bit of recovery time. How are you doing after your treatment?” I enquired, remembering how severe his wounds had been when he last came to us and hoping that he’d managed to recover well enough without our assistance.

“I am much better. I wish that I could say the same for my people.” He answered regretfully and I glanced around the ward to notice that many of the grounders here were either coughing, or vomiting. “There was a sickness in a village nearby. Many recovered quickly, but some have not been able to fight it. Abby offered to help them.” He explained, seeming exhausted as he glanced back at them and I regarded him with sympathy.

“Well, we have to take care of each other, right?” I offered with a warm smile and he seemed pleased to discover that I was supportive of this decision. “I’m sorry. Any other time I would offer to help, but getting Linkon here has kinda wiped me out.” I confessed, feeling utterly useless for my current weakness and Nyko nodded in understanding.

“Abby said that you were badly hurt in the attack. I am sorry for what happened at Mount Weather.” He remarked with an expression of genuine remorse and I flashed him a grateful smile. “Rest well, my friend.” He muttered as he bowed his head to me, before returning to caring for his people.

With a deep sigh, I laid back on the bed to catch my breath and stared up at the ceiling, struggling to focus. Everything felt more draining than I was prepared for and I already grew tired of my new limitations.

Hurried footsteps warned me of Jackson’s arrival as he frantically ran around me to take another set of obs and it seemed that he was too flustered to even hold a conversation as he worked. His pen scratched rapidly over the charts as he filled in the results and once it seemed that he was satisfied with his findings, he rushed away to care for the rest of his patients.

Abby was still attempting to treat Lincoln whilst also balancing an argument with Pike and Kane. As I watched her struggling to multitask, I understood why she felt that she needed to pass on the role of Chancellor to someone who could give it their full attention.

“Lincoln. We need to set an example.” Kane pleaded, allowing a slight hint of his anger over this incident to peek out from his careful demeanour and I smiled.

Kane’s consideration for Lincoln gained my respect, as I had never expected for him to be as accepting when we first met and was pleasantly surprised at the leader that he was blossoming into. Meanwhile, Pike sighed at his side, as he fidgeted around in a stressed manner.

“Yeah. We do.” Lincoln muttered, clearly far more relaxed than he was when I first found him outside and I wondered whether it might have been wiser to encourage him to respect his anger, as now he seemed to be taking a more lenient approach to his attacker than I approved of.

“The man just lost his son, Marcus.” Pike argued, seeming shocked that anyone could even consider punishing the instigator and I huffed in annoyance.

Pike had been blatantly coddling the Farm Station residents since they arrived, unable to accept even the mere suggestion that they could do any wrong and my patience with his golden child syndrome was growing thin.

“Lincoln didn’t do that.” Abby pointed out, staring at Pike over her shoulder whilst she worked and I was relieved that she remained stern in the face of his favouritism.

The doors to the ward swung open with a clatter as Octavia entered, her face filled with a mixture of terror and rage. Though I willed my legs to stand to join her, I couldn’t lift myself from the bed and simply had to watch as she strode toward Lincoln in a fluster.

“What happened?” She demanded, sneaking a glare at Pike as she passed that silently enquired as to why he was even present and I couldn’t help a sly smile at her attitude.

Octavia began fretting over Lincoln as they shared a hushed conversation and Pike moved to leave medical first. He had barely reached my bed when Nyko momentarily blocked his path, fixing him with a stern glare that conveyed his distrust and he maintained it even once he eventually allowed him to pass. Pike seemed shaken by this encounter as he hurried out and I caught Nyko’s eyes with a meaningful look.

“He is bad news. Watch him around your people.” I warned, already fearful for the safety of those in the ward and Nyko nodded in agreement, seeming grateful for my support.

My attention was caught by Abby loudly asking Lincoln to assist with translation for the grounder patients and Octavia wandered over to my bed with frustration poorly hidden in her face.

“How are you feeling, little miss kamikaze?” She interrogated, raising a bro at me critically and I shook my head at her as I prepared myself for another scolding. “Honestly, if you didn’t already look so sorry for yourself, I’d hit you. You really worried us this time. I thought Bellamy was going to have a heart attack. I’ve never seen him that frantic. He was losing his mind!”

“I know. I’m an idiot. Believe me, I’ve already got that message loud and clear from a host of people.” I answered with an apologetic smile and she seemed pleased to hear that I was being grilled for my behaviour. “Give me a little recovery time and I’ll be fine.” I added gently to answer her question and she seemed relieved, though the tension in her brows didn’t completely disappear.

“You look stressed, Sugar. Talk to me.” I offered, unsettled by seeing her upset.

Octavia chewed on her lip for a moment, seeming as if she was too proud nowadays to allow herself a moment of weakness as she had always done in my company in the past. I patted the bed as I shuffled over to make space, making it clear that I was absolutely willing to still dote on her when needed and she sighed, before she carefully sat beside me.

“Lincoln’s not going to press charges on that Farm Station asshole.” She grumbled with anger filling her pretty features and I sighed in disappointment.

If I was honest, I had expected this outcome, but I had hoped that Octavia might be able to convince him to reconsider. I had no doubt that she had already tried, but as she clearly had been unsuccessful, I decided that I would need to provide her with calming answers, rather than riling her up further.

“There has to be a consequence for assaulting him like that. I mean, he’s got stitches in his head, Indie!” She exclaimed and I struggled to keep my mouth closed as I nodded. “Pike’s people already think that they’re untouchable as it is. This won’t help anything.” She added bitterly and I took one of her hands in mine in an attempt to calm her from her outrage.

“That’s Lincoln’s way. You know that better than anyone, Tavi. He wants to set a good example of grounders. That they can be compassionate and compromise.” I advised, caressing her hand comfortingly and she huffed as she absorbed my words. “Plus, it sounded like Pike was pushing pretty hard for no charges. He’s certainly not making things any easier by insisting that our rules don’t apply to them.”

“Tell me about it. You know, the guards were trying to throw Nyko and the others out when they arrived. They didn’t even give him a chance to explain that their treatment had already been agreed with Abby.” She recounted with aggravation and I furrowed my brows at this revelation. “I had to help carry them in by myself. No one else would help them.” She revealed, her voice gradually softening from anger to fear and I glanced around at the sickly people surrounding us with shock.

“A lot of the people here have been anti-grounder for a while. The Farm Station residents moving in and then the Mount Weather attack has only boosted their confidence. We’re going to have to be careful in how we deal with this. People are angry and scared, and we both know how easily that can go to shit if it becomes a mob mentality.” I analysed, feeling uneasy about the divide that I could sense in the camp and Octavia glanced at me with a similar discomfort in her eyes.

“I asked Linkon if we could leave to join Trikru. The Commander lifted the kill order on him, so we’re free to go. Indra seemed interested in having me back at the Summit. I thought that maybe I could convince her to take him too.” She whimpered, switching to Trig to be extra cautious that none of our own people could overhear her plans and though I was upset by this suggestion, I understood her desire to escape. “He said no. He wants to stay, but I don’t feel safe here.”

“Linkon feels like he has a responsibility to represent his people here. He’s too noble to walk away from that. He still has hope that an alliance could work.” I reminded her, despite feeling doubtful about the reliability of this concept myself and she scoffed under her breath, though her expression revealed that she knew I was right.

“You’re always safe with me. No matter what state I’m in. I’m never gonna let anything happen to you and neither will your man. You know that, right?” I confirmed, squeezing her hand tightly and she snuck a rare smile at me.

“I know. The same goes for you. We’ve got each other's backs.” She confirmed and I was pleased to have at least taken the edge off her anxiety. “Love you.” She whispered, sniffing emotionally before she leaned her head onto my shoulder in a way that she hadn’t done in a long time.

“Love you too, Tavi.” I breathed, placing a light kiss on the top of her head and leaning into her too.

We stayed like this for a few minutes and I treasured the feeling of closeness between us. Since we landed on Earth things had never been the same, but I was grateful that I could always fall back on Octavia. Her love and commitment had kept me strong in the worst times of my life and I knew that no matter what happened in the future, or how far apart we ended up, I would always be able to depend on it.

“Sorry to interrupt this super adorable moment, but I’ve gotta move you.” Jackson announced with an apologetic smile as he crept into the area around my bed and I glanced up at him in confusion.

“The grounders that we are treating are suffering with an illness that is causing breathing difficulties. It’s not especially serious, but if you were to catch it, it would majorly affect your recovery. We’re gonna move you to a private room for tonight and then we’ll see if you’re looking well enough to rest up in your own quarters after that.” He explained as he busied himself with gathering my stuff so that I wouldn’t attempt to carry it myself and I looked over at Octavia reluctantly.

“It’s okay. You need to focus on taking care of yourself. We’ll chat later.” She soothed, giving my arm a supportive squeeze, before she left me to Jackson’s care.

Using his arm for balance, I allowed him to lead me to a small room beside the main ward that was available for any intensive care cases. He assisted in setting up the room and checked that I was settled comfortably in bed. Once he’d wheeled in all of the necessary equipment, he connected me to an IV for another dose of pain relief and ensured that I ate a full meal, before he returned to assist Abby in the main ward.

For a while, I managed to concentrate on reading The Iliad again, before I became restless and my mind began to obsess over Bellamy, worrying over what could take this amount of time. I recalled Raven’s earlier words with a flinch, fearful that they were hurtful enough to cause him to do all manner of stupid things and I was already considering whether I had the energy to sneak out to find him, when he finally appeared.

“Hey! Are you alright?” He enquired immediately, seeming flustered and lost as he made his way into the room and I nodded with confusion, unsure what had caused such a distressing attitude. “I panicked when I couldn’t find you. What’s going on?” He breathed, sounding out of breath and I smiled at his protectiveness.

“Oh, sorry. Jackson and Abby don’t want me to pick up anything from the grounders that they’re treating whilst I’m still in recovery.” I explained, casually placing the book on a nearby surface and he glanced back toward the ward in annoyance.

“If they’re so sick, maybe they shouldn’t be here!” He stated frustratedly, his entire demeanour radiating aggravation and I knitted my brows together at the absurdity of this statement. “We shouldn’t be taking grounders into Arkadia if it’s going to endanger our own people.” He argued as he glared toward the ward again and I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Well, that’s why I’m in here now. The illness isn’t especially dangerous, according to Jackson. They just didn’t want to slow my recovery.” I clarified gently, but he remained distracted by this change and I could tell that something else was bothering him.

“Come on. Sit down.” I requested, tapping a chair that was beside the bed and he paused to ensure that the door to the room was fully closed protectively.

Once satisfied that no germs were going to reach me, he reluctantly shuffled over to my side and dropped into the chair. Even his posture seemed irritable and I knew that he wasn’t coping, despite his best efforts to keep this information to himself. It was agonising for me to witness him suffering and wished that I could simply take his pain away.

“Bellamy, talk to me. Please.” I offered, reaching over to take one of his hands in mine and he simply fidgeted in his seat as he viewed me. He didn’t grip my hands in return, seeming completely removed from me and I felt anxiety building in my chest at his strange behaviour.

“Baby. What Raven said earlier was awful-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cut in abruptly, clearing his throat to ensure that his voice didn’t divulge any emotion and I chewed on my lip.

“Well, clearly not talking about it is doing wonders for you.” I blurted, thinning my eyes at him and he avoidantly turned his face away.

Everything about his posture was closed off, as if he was making every effort to keep me from breaching his defences and I couldn’t imagine why he felt that he needed to manage this alone. Ever since I first woke up in Arkadia, I knew that there were things that he wouldn’t tell me and in the months that followed the feeling only grew, seeming like a disease that slowly poisoned him. Now I knew that he was lying and the pain that he battled to disguise was written all over his face, in capital letters.

“She needs someone to blame for what happened and it’s not fair that she picked you.” I stated, keeping my voice gentle as I addressed him and he sniffed loudly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked sharply, startling me with the sharpness of his tone and I noticed when he finally brought his gaze back to me that there were tears glistening in his eyes. “I chose to trust Echo. I vouched for her, even when you told me to be careful. They were all my decisions. Going to Polis to warn them was my plan.” He pointed out, his voice shaking as he spoke and hurt came off him in waves.

“I almost got you killed, Indie!” He hissed, the pain in his face causing my heart to break and I could hardly cope with how broken he looked. “Jackson said that when he found you, you were drowning in your own blood. You barely made it through surgery. I had to sit here and watch you fight for your life, knowing that it was my fault if you died.”

“You didn’t do this to me, Bellamy. This one is on me. I hid the broken ribs and I stayed in the mountain for too long. I did this to myself.” I insisted, unwilling to allow him to blame himself for my injuries and I could recognise that this aspect had caused the most damage to him emotionally.

“Please. Tell me how this blood isn’t on my hands, because I can’t see it.” He whispered, hardly able to get the words out as he stared at me in desperation and I longed to wrap him in my arms, holding him until he came back to his senses.

“Earlier today, you reminded me that we are still just kids, doing the best that we can. You could never have known what was going to happen. The only people with blood on their hands are the ones who plotted to kill us. You don’t get to punish yourself for being human.” I asserted with as much strength as I could and he finally allowed a tear to roll down his cheek. “You did what you believed was right. You can’t be blamed for what happened after.” I confirmed, reaching out to brush the tear away, but he leaned away from me.

“I’m pretty sure that Raven would disagree.” He divulged in a hoarse voice, roughly wiping his tears aside as if he were frustrated at himself for showing weakness and for a moment, I felt lost for words.

The distance between us felt like miles and I couldn’t think on how to reach past the blame that he was determined to carry. For the first time since we’d been together, he felt like a stranger to me and it strung to realise that I hadn’t known him for long enough to know how to handle this. The only remaining truth that I could offer was my own insight and I took a deep breath as I returned my mind to the weeks that I spent captive in Mount Weather.

“When I thought that I lost you, I was like a totally different person. That kind of grief, combined with all of the what ifs and missed chances, it brings out the worst in you. She’s dealing with so many constantly changing emotions and she just needs someone to direct them at.” I expressed, using my experiences to try to remove some of the impact of Raven’s attack and he listened obediently whilst still keeping his gaze trained away from me.

“You’re an easy target for her and she needs that right now. For me, it was Miller.” I admitted, causing him to finally glance up at me in confusion. “In my mind, I lost you because he took me when you were fighting Tristan. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge that he was just protecting me as you’d asked. I believed that I could’ve saved you and he stopped me from doing that. I was so angry with him.” I divulged, feeling the familiar pain of shame in my chest as I recalled the way that I had spoken to Miller back then and Bellamy seemed equally shocked by my confession.

“But you got me back. Raven won’t get a redo like we did.” He sighed, seeming even more remorseful as he considered this and I felt at a loss for anything else I could say to help him.

“I did. And I will always be grateful for that.” I confirmed, squeezing his hand with appreciation, but he barely even reacted to me. “I forgave Miller long before I knew that you had survived. It took a lot of soul searching and I think it probably made a big difference that we had to work together to survive, but I accepted that it wasn’t fair to blame him. I’d even consider us friends now. Raven will forgive you in time. For now though, you need to forgive yourself.” I urged, staring into his face with concern, but he remained distant as if I hadn’t even spoken at all.

“We will need to work together to survive again soon if Kane doesn’t act.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of stress and I tilted my head at him in question.

“We’ve got an army of grounders surrounding us at this very moment. If the Commander decides to change her loyalties again like she did at Mount Weather, we won't stand a chance.” He presented as if this threat were obvious and I leaned away from him slightly in shock.

This was the last thing that I had expected him to say and it took several minutes for me to form a response as I struggled to understand who he was referring to.

“Indra’s army.” I pointed out firmly, but he stared back at me with an unchanged expression. “They’re here to help us fight Azgeda. This isn’t like before. We’re the thirteenth clan now.” I argued, confused that we were even discussing this and he scoffed at me in an antagonising manner. “We can trust Trikru. Indra has proven herself too many times for you to disrespect her like this.”

“Indra is a grounder! Trusting a grounder just got thirty six of our people killed.” He hissed, seeming as if he were losing his patience with me and I felt my eyes widen at his attitude. “You are too attached to them to see this for the danger that it is. It’s time that you remembered who your people are and started thinking of their safety.” He lectured, already warming into a familiarly protective attitude and I felt my temper rising at the sight of it.

“I am thinking of my people, despite the fact that you are currently behaving like children.” I spat, my sympathy rapidly being pushed aside for anger as he seemed to have suddenly forgotten the months of work that had gone into campaigning for peace, in favour of viewing every grounder in the same light.

Bellamy clenched his jaw at my words, avoiding meeting my eyes as he fidgeted in place and I crossed my arms defensively. A few moments of silence passed as we both attempted to calm ourselves and I couldn’t allow things to fester any longer between us, as I decided that it was time to address his behaviour.

“If you’re so concerned about our safety, why did you quit the guard?” I asked in a cold tone, allowing my expression to reveal my annoyance for his dishonesty and he whipped his gaze back up to me in panic. “Kane told me. He hoped that I might be able to convince you to reconsider, but if I’m honest, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you working as a guard right now. I know that you feel like you need to keep us safe, but you’re being paranoid-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He yelled as he rose to his feet in anger and I flinched at his unexpected outburst, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re so blinded by your loyalty to Arlo that you can’t see what's right in front of you. My decision to trust a grounder opened us up for betrayal, again. We have to be wiser. Wake up, Indie! Kane’s got you dancing to his tune!”

“And it sounds like Pike’s finally got you dancing to his!” I snapped viciously, causing him to curse under his breath and storm out of the room without another word, leaving the door hanging open behind him.

“Bellamy!” I yelled after him, hardly able to believe that he’d walked out on me when he knew I couldn’t leave and I threw off my covers to prepare to follow him, when Jackson rushed in.

“Woah, woah!” He gasped, glancing back out of the door with disbelief. “Indie, don’t even think about getting out of that bed! You’re not well enough.” He ordered, barging his way over to push me back and due to my weak state, I couldn’t fight as he lifted me slightly to prop me back on the mattress.

“Jackson. I need to-”

“I understand that you want to go after your man, but just give him some time to cool off. He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Jackson argued, blocking the door from my reach and I reluctantly flopped into lying down with exhaustion.

“You might as well get comfortable, honey. You’re not going anywhere. I need to get these dressings changed, anyway.” He added as he approached to ensure that I was secure in the bed, before he busied himself with treating my burns and I had no energy left to argue as I began to stew in my thoughts.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The effect of the pain relief was so strong that I didn’t even realise that I had fallen asleep until someone was shaking me. It was a battle to pull myself from the allure of sleep, as the exhaustion I felt was so intense that it felt unbeatable. Between blinks, I caught sight of Octavia standing above me with a panicked expression and the fear in her face spurred me into action.

“Indie, wake up! We’ve got trouble.” She hissed urgently and I sat bolt upright so quickly that it made me flinch in pain.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped, almost falling out of bed from dizziness and Octavia grabbed my shoulders to stabilise me.

She seemed to regret her decision to wake me, as I stared at her though unfocused eyes and I knew that she worried over my condition. After a few moments of staring at her insistently, she eventually cracked.

“It’s Bellamy.” She sighed awkwardly, causing alarm to course through my body and miraculously, I was no longer tired.

Octavia had to practically restrain me to prevent me from launching out of the bed and she hurried to explain so that I would cease fighting.

“He’s not hurt!” She gasped in exasperation and I paused in place, viewing her with a feeling of intense dread. “He helped Pike’s crew to sneak guns out of the armoury. Lincoln and a couple of guards caught them trying to sneak out of camp. They were going to kill the army whilst they slept.” She explained as her face displayed her hurt at this discovery and I stuttered in shock, struggling to find any words to respond with.

“What?!” I spat, rubbing at my temples whilst my brain strained to comprehend this situation. Octavia watched me sympathetically as I wondered if I had somehow caused this, replaying our earlier conversation in my mind obsessively.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” She confessed in a careful voice and I could barely bring myself to meet her eyes as I steeled myself for more. “Kane and Abby came out to arrest them all and obviously it caused a scene. So, Pike started using it to preach his bullshit as usual and Bellamy publicly suggested that he run for Chancellor. Indie, he started the whole camp cheering for him.”

“They’re not going to allow him to run, are they?” I breathed in horror as I understood that she had been correct to feel afraid in this camp and my anxiety was running in circles as I realised that she could be in danger.

“I don’t think they have much of a choice. He has more support than we realised. There would be riots if they refused.” She mumbled, the colour draining from her face as she considered this and I rubbed at my face with a groan.

“This is insane!” I stated in disbelief, feeling as if I simply wanted to hide beneath my covers, but I knew that she was counting on me, amongst many others.

Pain pulsed in my head as I tried to push through my shock to form a plan, but I was overwhelmed with guilt and betrayal that clouded my judgement. It seemed utterly childish now that I had been so upset over Bellamy lying about his guard jacket when compared to something as extreme as this and I struggled to match this decision to the kind, understanding man that I knew. Octavia watched me with a similarly lost look in her eyes and I was glad to have her at my side to sympathise with the conflicting emotions that I battled.

“Alright. Did Bellamy get arrested too?” I enquired in a forced attempt at a calm tone and she nodded without hesitation. “Good. It's a long shot, but if I can get in to visit him, then I might just be able to talk some sense into him before it’s too late.”

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