#now somehow i have ended up getting valuable voice practice right in front of my friends and they have no idea it's mostly me

[platihbm]

MIKU!!! SHE WILL KILL GODS IN THE LANDS BETWEEN!!! SHE WILL BECOME THE NEW GOD!!!

[spencereidluver]

H is for Hold My Hand

october 31, 2008

summary:  You take a cocky, halloween loving Spencer to a haunted house for his first time. He underestimates how scary it actually is going to be, and ends up being taught a very valuable lesson.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: details of a haunted house. nothing  bad though

Spencer Reid was a big Halloween fan. He loved dressing up and going to haunted houses and eating candy. He was a kid at heart, maybe because he never truly had a childhood. 

This year, you decided to take him to a haunted house on the outside of town. It was an old abandoned house that had been boarded up and condemned for years. A few years back, a family bought it and renovated it, turning it into a movie style horror building. It was one of the top spots in the entirety of Quantico during the month of October.

You decided to take your horror-loving boyfriend there as not only a late birthday gift, but also as a way to celebrate halloween. Because let's be honest, two mid-twenty year olds trick or treating isn’t exactly socially acceptable. After going out for a semi-nice dinner, you and Spencer drove 17 miles east to visit the haunted house.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to a haunted house,” Spencer said to you. His eyes were focused on the road as he made gentle movements of the steering wheel with his left hand. His right hand rested on the midsection of your thigh, gripping ever so slightly.

“Really?” You said. You ran your fingers over his, following the bumps of his knuckles.

“Nope. I’ve always wanted to go but never had anyone to go with.”

“Well, now you do.” He smiled, turning his head and giving you a quick peck on the lips. It took Spencer a few weeks to get used to kissing you. For a while, he would ask every time. Last week, the two of you went to the theater on a date. As this was a silent audience, he didn’t want to interrupt. About half way through the show, you felt the buzz of your phone. “Can I kiss you?” a text from Spencer read. You couldn’t help but giggle out loud, which got you a few shushes. You didn’t mind too much, leaning over and giving him a big kiss. 

Kissing Spencer was something straight out of a romance novel. He had this certain way about him, he was always so passionate. The way his lips moved perfectly in sync with yours was something unpredictable. You always imagined him being a good kisser, with practice of course, but he’d clearly done research.

Spencer pulled into the parking lot of the destination. The owners of the house tore down the shed in the back to pave an area. It’s almost as if they know they’d be a city-wide success. 

It was still slightly light outside, the sun having yet to set. You wanted to wait until dark to go inside. You wanted Spencer’s first haunted house experience to be memorable. Of course, anything with him was memorable, however, you wanted to make this extra special for him. After all, Halloween was sort of his thing, and you were sort of his girl-thing. 

You grab Spencer’s hand and turn to look at him. “Hey,” you say, ensuring to keep your voice calm and steady, “I’m not saying you will, but if you do happen to get too scared, we can leave.”

“Y/n, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says. “I work for the damn FBI.”

“I know Spence, but this is different.” “Yeah. It’s fake.”

He really didn’t know what he was getting into.

“Yeah, it’s fake, but it almost makes it more scary. The people here can touch you, and it’s loud, and basically it’s all the stuff you hate grouped into one thing that you somehow love.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you if I’m scared. But I’ll be fine, y/n.”

He was completely clueless. For one, you were going to prove him wrong. You just knew it. The two of you exit the car, meeting in the front and interlocking hands. Spencer rubs his thumb on the back of your palm and swings your arm back and forward with your steps. 

As you approached the steps to the house, Spencer’s hand began sweating. Yeah, he was nervous, but he’d never ever admit it. He liked to seem strong in front of you, though he’d be the first one to cry if he stepped on a bug. There was something so innocent about him. He just, he was different. 

_____

The line to get in was long, but it moved fast. The entryway to the house was filled with those fake spiderwebs. Those always made Spencer sneeze. The majority of your time in there was spent with Spencer’s arm over his mouth and you trying to convince the people ahead of you he wasn’t sick. 

As you approached the entrance to the basement- where the haunted house started- Spencer began to get giddy. He was so excited, like a kid in a candy store. Except he was a Spencer in a scary house that he was allergic to.

You enter the doorway to the steps that lead to the basement. Spencer trails behind you, walking a little slowly and paying careful attention to each spooky detail on the wall. He held a loose grip on your hand and let you lead him down the stairs. 

As you enter the actual attraction his grip tightens significantly. There was a coffin slightly ajar that had fake blood dripping out from the bottom. A plastic severed hand lay at the gape of the door. Spencer inched closer to you and hid his face in your hair. You silently laughed to yourself and continued walking forward.

As you continued through the basement, there was lots of fake blood and red stained sheets covering walls and pieces of furniture. They did a good job of creepifying this place. There was a fog machine plugged in somewhere, and from out of the fog popped a man draped head to toe in blood stained clothing. He jumped out in front of you and Spencer, screaming into your faces. He then ran back into the fog, knocking over a stack of ceramic plates causing a loud crash. Spencer jumped. Literally, jumped. He pressed his body into yours, attempting to hide behind you. You turn around to look at him.

“You sure you can handle this, Spence?” You ask him. “We can leave if you want to.”

“No, I’m fine. Can you just hold my hand?” He answers, looking into your eyes, almost as if he was too scared to grab your hand himself. You smile at him, taking his hand and dragging him to the next room and through the rest of the basement.

_____

next chapter: I is for "I Knew It!"

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____

a/n: hey guyyys sorry it's been a bit since the last chapter, i've been working a lot and had finals. i really hope i'm able to get back on the grind, but no promises. i hope you all are having a good holiday season! also, i would just like to say that chapter M is a christmas themed story, however it is non secular and celebrated for gifts with the team, not the birth of the christian god. i want to try to make all my stories inclusive to whomever and be able to read across all races and religions. have a wonderful night :)

_____

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_____

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff

@ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie

@spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13 @hades-disappointment-child @aceofspades190 @taygrls @hookergutss

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[nanawritesit]

Obey Me! Dateables Imagine: MC is kidnapped by a lower demon and summons them to come save them

Demon Brothers Ver.

Characters: Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon

Trigger Warnings: MC is tied to a chair and slightly manhandled, slightly suggestive at the end of Solomon's, mentions of choking

A/N: As soon as I saw how many people loved the version with the brothers, I knew I'd be writing a version with the side characters! I've gotten so many requests to do so, and ya know, my now dateable babes deserve the same amount of love :) I changed the scenario a tiny bit since not all of them are demons, but its the same plot line, so ENJOY!

Oh! I almost forgot, I won't be writing for Raphael, Mephisto, or Thirteen since I don't feel like I know their characters very well. I'm only on lesson 28 but maybe if I get far enough into the story I'll start including them!

Scenario:

You thought all of this would be over. You had been at RAD for half a year now. All the demons seemed to be used to your presence and no one had so much as given you dirty looks anymore. When you first arrived you were the target of some bullying and pranks, but after the school learned you were under the protection of the seven brothers, that ceased to exist. 

So when Judas, a popular and nice demon in your history class offered to help you study after school, you gladly accepted it. It was your worst subject, and exams were quickly approaching. He was smart, pretty, and seemed to get along well with everyone. 

That was what you thought until you woke up in a dark room, tied to a chair looking up at him, horrified. Your mind drifted back to when he offered you a drink when you first came to the study room. He must have slipped you something and then drug you off to some secluded area. 

“Why would you do this?” you demanded, tugging at the ropes that bound your fists together behind the chair. 

“Because I think Lord Diavolo’s plan to unite the three realms is blasphemous.” Judas spat back. “Humans could never stand as equals to demons, and when I’m done with you, he’ll feel the same way.”

“I’ll give you one chance.” you told him with an ice cold stare, doing an awful good job at hiding your fear. “Let me go right now and I won’t call for him.” 

Judas laughed maniacally, throwing his head back to the ceiling and clapping his hands. He then grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to look up at him. “Go ahead. I’m sure they won’t do anything. You may think that he likes you, but he only protects you out of pity.”

You gave Judas a small smirk before screaming out for your beloved.

Lord Diavolo:

"You sure about that?" a deep voice boomed behind Judas. Diavolo's enormous frame practically swallowed up the inferior demon, instantly striking fear into his heart. He was in his gorgeous demon form, which he hardly ever sported around his subjects.

Diavolo simply crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. His calm demeanor was somehow even more terrifying than if he were acting as furious as he felt on the inside. But Diavolo was a true royal, and he knew the best way to get to this degenerate was to maintain his composure. He took slow, dignified steps towards him, flapping his huge, dark wings with each stride. He stopped in front of Judas and put one of his massive hands over his shoulder.

"Forgive me my subject, but I don't think I feel the same way as you. You see, MC is more valuable to me than the entire Devildom." Diavolo was acting very proper, but it was only because he had to keep his image as prince. "However, you did put your hands on my irreplaceable companion, who happens to be a guest in our realm. Now I can't just let that go unpunished, can I?" The smile on his face didn't drop for a second as he patted Judas on the back.

He then snapped his fingers and summoned the royal guard. The lower demon cowered in fear at the many soldiers that pointed their swords at him. He was shaking in his boots, sweating and tearing up.

"Aw, don't look so sad Judas!" the Lord laughed, "The dungeon isn't that dark and scary. In the future, I wouldn't recommend kidnapping a human that has a pact with the Prince of Hell." The smirk on his face was positively sinister. "Take him away." he ordered, and the guard immediately left the room, dragging Judas away as he begged for forgiveness.

Once they were all gone, Diavolo immediately unsheathed a dagger from his hip and cut your ropes open in one quick swipe. You instantly jumped into his arms. He was holding onto you so tight, as if he was scared you weren't going to be there if he let go. You pulled back after a while and realized that his demon form had vanished… and that he was crying.

"Dia it's alright, he didn't hurt me!" you reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." he pleaded, placing his hand over yours. "I told you I would keep you safe here. I failed you."

"No you didn’t, my prince." you told him, putting your forehead against his. "I knew you would come in a second. I never doubted you and I'm not going to start now."

"I love you." he whispered through a choked down sob. "I'm never letting you out of my sight MC. I promise you this won't happen again. I'll do whatever I have to do to make this kingdom a safe place for you."

Barbatos:

That poor little demon. Barbatos was known to be the most sinister and lethal demon in the entire Devildom. Not even Lucifer entertained the idea of crossing him. After all, he had to be extremely formidable to work as the Demon Lord's faithful butler. He was used to cleaning up messes for Diavolo, and taking care of several assassination attempts before word could even reach the young prince.

At first, Barb was surprised that you had chosen him. He thought for sure that you would call for one of the brothers. In fact, the only reason he had formed a pact with you was because they were all gone on a business trip one day, and he wanted to be sure that you had protection. However, he was beyond honored that your first instinct was to summon him. He had always secretly been jealous of your closeness with the brothers, wishing he could have that kind of relationship with you. He just thought you were so nice and lovely, but he was afraid that you only saw him as a side character in your life.

The butler was absolutely enraged when he saw the lesser man gripping on your neck as if you were some toy. The glow of his dark, powerful magic radiated all around him, and in a flash he tackled Judas to the ground. He pinned him down with his knee and tied his hands behind his back. Once Judas was restricted from all movement, Barbatos chuckled in a sadistic manner for a while at the scene in front of him.

"Ah, my apologies, but did you honestly think that I would let someone as pitiful as you get away with hurting MC? Not only are they a vital part of my master's dream for this kingdom, but I care for them far too much to let you lay so much as your pinky finger on them."

Next, he leaned down to whisper in Judas' ear. "Don't fret little infidel, our fun isn't over yet. I'll be back for you in a second." Judas was banished to some other location at the wave of Barb’s gloved hand, and you never saw him again after that moment.

"MC? Did he harm you at all?" Barbatos asked as he sliced through your restraints with his tail. There was so much concern in his eyes, you were so touched.

"No, I'm alright, it was just scary." you chuckled awkwardly. You could feel your anxiety overwhelming you as the ropes fell to the ground. You were shaking and tearing up, not being sure how to handle the adrenaline rush of the situation.

He reached out a hand towards you for a second, then pulled back in hesitation.

You shouldn't indulge in their presence. He thought to himself. They probably want one of the brothers to comfort them.

His internal monologue was interrupted when you suddenly jumped up and engulfed him in the tighest embrace he had felt in centuries.

"Thank you, Barbatos. I knew you would come for me."

He was utterly frozen, totally taken aback at your appreciation. He couldn't help himself anymore and put his arms around you. He squinted his eyes at the warmth of your embrace. It felt like he belonged there, and he never wanted to be anywhere else from that point on. Maybe you did see him as more than a side character.

Simeon:

To Judas' misfortune, he assumed that you would call upon another demon to come help you. He didn't know that you were also close with Simeon, one of the highest ranking angels. You knew that a demon, especially one as low ranking as him, would be powerless in the presence of such a celestial being. That and, Simeon told you when you first came here that if you were ever in trouble, you could summon him.

You guys didn't have a pact obviously, but he had given you a special crystal necklace that would activate in times of extreme stress and danger, that would notify him that you needed help. He had given it to you after your near-death experience with Belphie. He didn't want to tell you for fear of jeopardizing your relationship, but he had a very hard time forgiving Belphie after that because he almost took you away from him, and... he didn't like thinking about demons wanting to kill you. He wanted to protect you and be your guardian your whole life, until you could become an angel like him. He really did like you and when he imagined his eternity, you were always there next to him.

He appeared within seconds, literally glowing with divine light. Judas was blinded at the angel's heavenly brightness, and immediately fell to his knees.

"You poor, misguided soul." Simeon muttered softly, placing two fingers under Judas’ jaw and forcing him to look him in the eye. "Going around torturing innocent humans... its not your fault you can't be as virtuous and beautiful as MC is."

"Simeon, I-" Judas began rambling, "I didn't mean to-"

"Hush now." Simeon interrupted, clearly not willing to give him the chance to explain himself at all. He leaned down to Judas' face. "I pray that you find salvation with your creator."

"No please!" Judas begged, but Simeon was already taking off his glove. He emitted an even brighter golden light from his palm, and Judas disintegrated to ash at it.

"My dear MC-" Simeon began as he rushed over to untie you. "Thank goodness I gave you that necklace. I don't know what I would have done if that monster laid a hand on you. You probably would have caught a glimpse of my dark side."

You laughed with him, taking his hand in yours. "Thank you Simeon. You always take such good care of me. I'm really happy to have you in my life."

His heart skipped a beat and he felt all warm and fuzzy. "MC... I don't have much experience with these kinds of things, but the way you keep brushing against death makes me want to confess something to you.

He brought the top of your hand to his mouth and kissed it before he went on. "I want to be with you, as more than just friends. I want to be by your side because you make me happy. If you'll have me, I'd like to be yours."

"Thank god- sorry, thank goodness." you chuckled, "I was starting to think you were never going to ask me. I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

He laughed with you, placing his forehead against yours.

"How about an equivalent exchange? I'll belong to you and you'll belong to me. It'll be like our version of a pact."

"Simeon, if you ever call our relationship a pact, I'll tell Solomon you want him to make dinner for you." you joked, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. His soft lips pressed against yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other squeezing your own, running his thumb along the back of it. He was smiling into the kiss, and you couldn't help but do so as well.

"Your angel pleads for your forgiveness." he beamed, looking into your eyes with such pure adoration.

Solomon:

You guys didn't have a pact, but he did teach you a special summoning spell to use should you ever have issues with your magic and need his guidance. He didn't anticipate that it would also be useful in emergency situations, but he was glad that he had taught you.

Solomon is the most morally grey of all the guys, so he would have a really fun time with this lower demon. His dark eyes squinted at the sight of Judas with his hand on the back of your neck. Then he held his hand out and put him in a binding spell, pressing Judas flat against the wall until he couldn't move a muscle.

Solomon strode up to him and pressed a hand on the wall over his shoulder, looming overtop of him. "Care to explain what you were planning on doing to my apprentice? I'd love to know so I can deliver a curse unto you that's befitting."

Judas was struggling against the magic to utter out a sound that would somehow save him from Sol's wrath. But it was far too late, for he had already crossed a pretty thick line.

"I can't believe a creature like you had the gall to go after the companion of one of the world's most powerful sorcerers." Solomon began, his magic causing Judas' veins to pop out along the surface of his skin. "I'm almost impressed. However, you still threatened my favorite person, and I can't have other heathens like you thinking I'm okay with that. Unfortunately I'll have to make an example of you, little one."

The sorcerer then placed his palm against the demon's forehead, delivering the curse unto him. Once he was released from the curse, he sprinted out of the room.

"Don't worry, the true effects will show up in a few minutes. After that, no other demon here will even dream of hurting you." He got you out of the chair and helped you up.

"Sol..." you began, fighting back tears as he held your hands in his own. "I don't want to admit it, but that was really scary."

"It's alright, you're allowed to be scared. In fact, you should hang onto that sense of fear down here. It means you're still human." he smiled, running his thumbs along the backs of your hands.

"Well, you're a human, and you're not scared of anything." you challenged him.

"Sure I am." he chuckled, leaning in closer to your face. "Seeing you in danger like this? That scared me."

"I don't believe you." you told him, shaking your head with a smirk.

"Perhaps this will win you over?" he asked before capturing your lips in a kiss. You relaxed into his touch, putting your hands together behind his neck, his own slipping down to your waist. You indulged in each other for a moment, then he pulled away and grinned at you. "Let's go up to my room. I'll teach you some protection spells, and if you're a good little apprentice, I'll give you a reward."

[alwaysmarveling]

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse. 

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,”  you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you. 

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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

In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 21:

You were nervous, practically fainting under the pressure as you pulled open the hospital’s front door. The trip to Jaku was fairly easy, only a brief 45 minutes, and in that time you hadn’t managed to calm yourself at all.

You stomach was rolling with nerves- twisting and turning and making you feel so very sick. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to convince yourself to lower your expectations. There was nothing for you to be worried about, here! You hadn’t lied! Or hid anything, or pretended like you were a good person when you maybe weren’t. 

Bakugou did that. He did that and he was the reason your eyes were still puffy and why your head still ached. He had things to apologize for- not you.

So why did it feel like all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and forget everything and just be happy?

The longer you sat with it, the more you thought you understood. Even if he was bad, even if he did bad things, he was still your soulmate. He was still the other half of you and you were selfish- so, so selfish and you couldn’t make yourself give that up. Couldn’t ever possibly make a strong enough argument for abandoning him. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It was why you were even at the hospital after all.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your smile seemed genuine to the receptionist. “Bakugou Katsuki, please, room 427.”

She just looked at you funny, tapping at the device in her ear. “Yeah, I got another girl down here asking for Dynamite? Where’s security?”

You heart began seizing, lungs stuttering with panic as she continued to stare you down. After a long fifteen seconds she spoke again.

“Well, isn’t it your lucky day. Apparently, he wants to see you. What a surprise.” She announced un-enthusiastically, handing you a slip of paper. “Take the stairs to the left, all the way up to level 4, and then follow the instructions on the paper.” 

You just nodded in a daze, holding the paper in your shaking fingers and moving towards the stairs. Suddenly, you were even more nervous than before. You pushed open the stair doors, and realized this moment felt bigger than you. Bigger than anything in your entire life. Every singular event and decision had brought you here and the only thing you could do was stare dumbly at the stairs in front of you.

No. You knocked a closed fist gently against your forehead. I’m fine. I’m been waiting forever for this shit. It’s just stupid Bakugou.

You took one step, pulling your shaky legs along with two hands on the guardrail. Another step, only pull. Another step another pull. You were conquering the stairs, and this moment, gaining momentum before you knew it. With feet moving unbidden and sure and careful and climbing, you rise, steps taking you higher and higher until you hit the 4th floor. It’s a maze of hallways from there, a strange puzzle of paintings that all look the same and tiles that are two shades too dark and doctors and people rushing past and shoving, but your feet are steady, one after the other, fast, fast, faster, and you don’t falter. You don’t falter and you walk down another hallway, look at your paper, take a left, walk a little further, look at your paper, take a right, walk further and faster and further and farther, past room 423, past room 424, past room 425, past room 426, turn another corner, rush past a man wheezing in a wheelchair, skid to a stop- room 427. 

You heart hammers in your chest- beating against your ribcage and threatening to burst through your too-thin skin. Your breath shudders, fingers shaking as you push the door- push it open, and wider, and widest, and open.

His face is the very first thing you see. It’s all you can see. All the machines and the hospital bed, all the bandages and the IV’s stuck into his skin- they all fade away. There’s just him and his blonde hair and the way his shoulder’s slope and the defined musculature of his arms. He is real and breathing and solid, and so, so, beautiful. Bakugou’s every breath seems to arrest you, keep you in place and strung tight like a live-wire, electricity running trails of fire through every vein- and his eyes.

His eyes that are darker, deeper, duller- less like raging volcanoes, and more like delicate rubies. They’re red. Red like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and startling and surprising, but it’s not an angry red. Not a violent red. You decide then that Bakugou is a soft, dignified red- he’s hot wax cooling over a sealed envelope, like a slowly healing cut just beginning to fade. 

Something in you slots into place. You feel it in your mind, in your bones, in your chest. You’re not itchy anymore, you’re not searching. There is no puzzle left to solve and your finally have all the pieces to your soul; no longer aching anymore for something you knew you should’ve always had. Your skin is finally yours- no longer loose and ill-fitting and stretched thin saving room for someone you hadn’t met yet. You felt right- finally. Settled for the first time in your entire life, like somehow, you’d always knew you’d end up standing exactly where you were.

You think Bakguou must feel it too. He nods something almost imperceptible, but his face softens. He looks so sure- so confident as he looks at you. Like he always expected you to be exactly who you were. Like some part of him too always somehow knew this was going to happen.

You’re tearing up before you can help it, rushing into the room and to his bedside.  

“What are ya fuckin’ cryin’ for, idiot?” Bakugou huffs, but his voice comes out strained; buried under thick, barely-restrained emotion. “Nothin’ new left to cry about now, stop it.”

“I can’t,” You’re wiping at tears with your sleeve. “After all this time- my whole life- It’s just- you’re- you’re you. ”

“Course I fuckin’ am.” He says. Bakugou then clears his throat, voice becoming much softer. “Always was to you.” 

“I-I know. But it’s just- you’re real.” 

He can’t say it back, you can see it in his pinched face and blushing cheeks, but Bakugou nods. You know he feels the same. 

“It’s- I- I just didn’t think I’d ever be here,” You start, sinking easily into the chair next to his bed. “And after everything I jus-”

“I’m sorry!” His voice interrupts the relative quiet, cutting through like a knife. He nearly screamed his words, and when you look over at him Bakugou won’t meet your eyes. He’s studying the hospital blankets beneath his fingers, folding and clenching them between fingers gone white from the pressure. “I- I mean that. More than fuckin’ anything.” 

“I know.” You say.

The room goes quiet again, and any of the calming completeness you had felt earlier seemed to be fading. Suddenly it’s not just the feeling of finding your soulmate running through you, but the feeling of finding Bakugou. Bakugou who is sitting in front of you, injured and weaker than Dynamite and he doesn’t look like someone who could hurt anything or anyone but then you remember that video- that scream, those eyes. 

“Just- fuckin’ say it already. I can see your face, idiot.” Bakugou’s voice is authoritative but not pushy. Inquisitive but not demanding. “It’s- I know your holding back, so just fuckin’ quit it already, alright?.”

“It’s- I just need to know. You said, on the phone, that it wasn’t you, in the video.” You close your eyes. If you look at him any longer you think you’ll lose your nerve. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

“I-” You watch as his face falls, eyebrows pulling together. Then he’s turning red, wringing his fingers together and casting his eyes toward your shoes instead of your face. “Can ya- can I- I just have to think. Give me a second. I have to make sure I get the fuckin’ words right.” 

You nod. Bakugou seems to leave you for a moment, eyes un-focusing and fingers twitching minutely. He suddenly looks up, meeting your eyes.

“It’s- I shouldn’ta said that shit. It was- I did that. Me.” He admits, words tight and strained like they’re hard for him to speak. He’s got a hand pressed to his mouth, head turned sharply to face the window. He refuses to meet your eyes once more. “But- I’m not- I’m tryin’ not to fuckin’ be like that anymore! I’m workin’ on it or whatever. Since then! E-ever since then.” 

“Okay.” You nod. “What happened to the person? In the video?”

Your question seems to upset him, and he throws his hand harshly against the bed. Bakugou breathes- eyebrows pinched together tightly until his shoulders aren’t held together so tensely anymore.

“I told you. I didn’t- everybody always talks about that fuckin’ stupid-ass video but it was only the camera!” He grits his teeth suddenly, sharply inhaling and exhaling until his jaw relaxes once more. His eyes still remain screwed shut. “I meant that. What I said on the phone. The fuckin’ person was fine! Wasn’t fuckin’ hurt. J-just scared.” 

You want to believe him. More than anything you want to believe him, but those eyes you saw were hard to forget. They almost seemed like they belonged to someone else- like they couldn’t possibly have belonged to the same guy who’d called you sunshine and helped you with your anxiety and cleared his schedule every night at exactly 7:00 PM. The Bakugou you had come to know was so far removed from the man in the video- the scary, feral, thoughtless man who seemed to attack someone without just cause.

You closed your eyes for a moment, bringing your hands together in your lap. He said he was trying- he made it very clear that was true with his careful breathing and the way he asked for time to think about his words first. The Bakugou sitting in front of you was not the same man in the video. His eyes weren’t violent erupting volcanoes anymore- they were slowly crystallizing gemstones. Precious, valuable things still slowly changing into something new.

“Okay.” You nod. “I believe you.”

Bakugou cracks open his eyes slowly, looking intensely at you. Something anxious in his eyes melts away, relief filling his features and settling in the barely-there curve of his smile. His shoulders relax and he takes a deep breath and a crackle, a pop and-

“Did you? Was that-” You point at his palms. “Was that your quirk?”

“No! Fuck no, why would you even fuckin’ say that- obviously not, because my quirk is fuckin’ cool not some shitty, embarrassing, tiny-”

“Bakugou.” You interrupt sternly, staring him down. “Honesty, remember?”  

He groans, and flushes. His hand crackles again, something small and dancing just across his palm and Bakugou races to cover it. He then wipes his hands on his hospital gown harshly, turning his entire body toward the window to cover the way he’s still blushing. It doesn’t work though. You see him all the same.

“Yes.” He admits, and he just sounds so defeated, it makes you crack a smile. “But don’t fuckin’ say anything, okay? It’s all your fuckin’ fault, damn woman! Started the first time you called me and I can’t get it to fuckin’ stop no matter what I do it’s-”

“Can I see your hand?”

“H-huh?”

“Your hand,” You reach toward him gently. “I wanna see. Give it.” 

Bakugou doesn’t look at you, just raises his arm and jabs it out toward you. The movement is stunted and awkward, like he can’t control his limbs right, and when you look at him his entire neck has started going red too. He waves his extended hand impatiently, urging you to get on with it.

Slowly, so very slowly, you poke a single finger into the smooth skin of his wrist. Just a feather-light touch. A near-weightless pressure against soft skin.

Pop.

You poke him again.

Pop.

Suddenly embarrassed, you pull both your hands to cover your eyes and blushing cheeks, and begin giggling uncontrollably.

Pop. Pop. Crackle. 

Bakugou moves so brashly that it startles you, and he’s pulling his hand back to him, and curling it into his chest. He’s using his other hand to press into the crackling one, finally smothering the sound of a last few pops sounding off. When you finally peek between your fingers, he’s somehow redder than before. 

He’s adorable and you’re laughing and you can’t stop laughing because he’s shy and embarrassed and so defenseless against you. Every part of you is warm from the top of your head to the burning tips of your toes, your smile spreading so wide that it over takes your entire face. 

“It’s-it’s not fuckin’ funny!” Bakugou shouts. “Stop goddamn laughing, you shitty fuckin’ woman! It’s a good quirk! It’s not fuckin’ funny!” 

“It is.” You agree, gasping to catch your breath. “It’s a very good quirk Bakug-.” 

“K-Katsuki!” He shouts suddenly, interrupting you entirely. He seems surprised at his own outburst, blushing again and smacking his hand against his forehead. He groans. Loudly. “It’s- I- Katsuki. That’s my name.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” You say shakily, heart beginning to race once more. “K-Katsuki, huh?”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bakugou screams. Just howls something deep and defeated and animalistic from the bottom of his chest. It fills the room, seemingly taking up all the space, and you could’ve sworn the windows were rattling. You start laughing.

“Fuck! Oh my god! You fucking did this to me, shitty woman! You- you’re- stop fucking laughing!” Bakugou is screaming, arms gesturing wildly. “This isn’t fucking funny! Something is seriously fucking wrong with me! A-and and you don’t even fucking care! You just think it’s funny! I’m fuckin’ broken, fuckin’ suffering, and you’re laughing!”

“It’s- I’m not!” You shakily defend, barely able to complete the words. 

“See now you’re just fuckin’ lyin to me! Goddamn fuckin’ liar for a soulmate!” He’s yelling, hot air and fire and irritation seeping from his lips. “You know, it’s just my fuckin’ luck too, you know! To end up with such a fuckin’ idiot for a soulmate! Who just fuckin’ keeps laughin’ and lookin’ cute an-”

Bakugou screeches. He throws his hands down on the bed, palm up, full-on miniature explosions beginning to spout from his fingertips.

“What the fuck did you do to me? What the fuck- I-I didn’t say that! You didn’t hear anything! Would you quit fuckin’ laughing at me?” 

You just hold your palm up, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Bakugou stares at it, burning holes so intensely and brazenly, so utterly focused and enraged that it sends you into further hysterics. It takes you a good five minutes to sober up.

“It’s- I’m not. I’m not laughing at you.” You lean forward in your seat, just a little bit closer to the guardrail of the hospital bed. “You just- you make me happy ‘sall.”

Bakugou gags. Audibly. The sound rips from his chest and up his throat and contorts his face.

“Don’t just fuckin’ say that!”

“What the hell?” You ask incredulously, hands flying wildly. “You literally told me you like me over the phone! Literally yesterday! But now you’ve got a whole ass problem with me saying that you make me happy? What the fuck, angry man?!”

“It’s- I didn’t- fuck!” He shouts, voice raising to cover yours. “Stop makin’ me remember all this embarrassing shit! You’re doing this on fuckin’ purpose! I know you are, shitty woman!” 

“I wouldn’t make you remember it so much it you just fuckin’ owned up to it in the first place, you coward!” You screeched. “If you already said it, and I said I like you, then what’s the big fuckin’ deal, huh?” 

Bakugou suddenly goes quiet, his hands fidgeting with the sheets. He chuckles. “You said you like me. Again. Fuckin’ dork.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking infuriating! No-no don’t just sit there and fucking grin at me! That’s- stop!” 

And truly, you meant it. You wanted him to stop looking at you like that, stop crinkling up his eyes, and most of all stop smiling because you didn’t think your heart could handle it. Everything about him made your blood boil, and every nerve stand straight on end- but it was good too. So warm and comforting and just funny. 

He was Bakugou and Dynamite and your Soulmate. All in one, awkward, crackling, loud fucking package. 

-//--

ee hav sum fluff ,, as a ~reward~

[wanderinginksplot]

Rex + Engineer!Reader

This is the prequel to the Rex + Blanket Fort + Kisses one-shot found here on my masterlist. As this is a prequel to that story, you don't need to have read it for this to make sense. And as you could probably tell from the picture, this takes place during the Onderon arc.

Rex x gn!reader: intended to be early romance, but could be read as platonic.

Word Count: a bit more than 3,400

Warnings: canon-typical violence, including spoilers for the Onderon arc (S 5, E 2-5) of Star Wars: The Clone Wars

---

"And Captain Rex will train everyone in the encampment on basic combat skills and maneuvers," General Skywalker announced.

You didn't pay overly much attention to that. The general was younger than you had anticipated, but he was clearly used to combat and had the kind of authority usually honed through commanding large groups of soldiers. Still, you knew his order didn't apply to you and moved to slip away from the area. Your schematics needed a lot more work before the rebels could attack without bringing buildings down.

"And where are you running off to?" a muscular man with light hair asked, stepping into your path.

You gave a tight smile. "Classified, sorry."

The man nodded toward the general. "General Skywalker says everyone needs combat training."

"Oh, not me," you reassured him. "I'm a contracted engineer, not one of the Rebels. I'm just here to make sure they destroy as little of the infrastructure as possible while they take back control."

"And do you live in the encampment?" he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling sure this was a trap. Eventually, you gave a short nod.

"Then you'll be training with me," he said firmly. "Captain Rex, 501st Legion."

You reluctantly shook the hand he offered and introduced yourself, finishing with, "-but I'm strictly an engineer."

"We're worried that this isn't likely to end without one or several attacks on this encampment," the captain told you. "A few hours of training could save your life."

"And a few hours of work on the city's schematics could save the lives of countless civilians," you argued. Sending that he would continue trying to convince you, you shook your head. "The Gerrera siblings are the ones who hired me. I'll let them make the final choice."

"And I'll leave it to the Generals," Captain Rex agreed.

Clearly not taking chances, he marched off toward where Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri were talking with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as a Togrutan female you vaguely remembered as being a commander.

"Generals, Commander," Captain Rex greeted with a crisp salute. You rolled your eyes. Soldiers. "We were hoping you could settle a difference of opinion."

"A difference of opinion?" General Kenobi repeated with a frown.

"What opinion would that be, Rex?" General Skywalker asked.

The captain explained the situation while you stood in silence. Steela met your gaze at several points during the conversation, looking concerned each time.

"We're only here to train the rebels," General Skywalker said after Captain Rex had finished talking. "Not anyone else."

"All of us are rebels," Steela argued, ignoring your signals that you didn't want training at all. "Just by being here in opposition to the Separatist forces, we are all considered a threat to their power."

"A contracted employee is different than someone who joined your cause because they believe in it," the commander countered, wrinkling her nose. "We aren't offering training to mercenaries."

"We're talking about an engineer, not someone hired to perform assassinations," Lux contributed. "What could it hurt?"

"Generals, Commander," Rex said, his quiet voice somehow drawing their attention. "I think every member of the rebel group needs to be trained. I think it's important."

"Rex��" General Kenobi sighed, but Skywalker interrupted before he could expand on his thoughts.

"I trust Rex's instincts," he told the older general. "If he thinks everyone needs to be trained, we'll make it happen."

You made a frustrated noise before you could stop yourself. "I don't need training. I'm an engineer. I don't work in combat situations."

"That's the thing about combat," Skywalker said with a shrug. "You don't always have to look for it. Sometimes, it comes to you. Especially in wartime."

The group split up immediately afterward, seemingly having come to an agreement. You followed Steela, determined to make your case and get back to your schematics.

"Steela, you know I'm not here for fighting," you said, jogging to catch up to the young woman who had hired you. "It isn't part of my contract."

"It isn't, you're right," she agreed. "But I would think carefully before I turned down a chance to learn such a valuable skill considering how dangerous the galaxy is right now. Surely this could be helpful as a freelancer traveling the universe alone?"

You didn't have an immediate answer to that. Steela clearly noticed, nodding solemnly at you before turning away. "The choice is yours to make."

You gritted your teeth, but your feet refused to move from the spot. To your left was the strategic tent and your unfinished set of schematics. To the right, the Jedi were helping the rebels set up some kind of training ring.

"Well?" a voice prompted. You already recognized it as belonging to Rex.

You stood still for a beat longer before giving a loud and heartfelt groan as you turned toward the freshly constructed training ring.

---

You were bad at fighting.

It wasn't really a shock to you. You had never been particularly graceful or good on your feet. That was why engineering had been such a draw - all mental work, almost no physical.

Rex, to his credit, turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher. He had kept everyone basically together as they learned new skills and practiced as a group. Still, he was determined that you would learn to defend yourself and here you were, fighting to shoot targets in the dying light, long after everyone else had scattered.

"I'm sorry," you apologized yet again as you missed. You were half an hour into intensive shooting lessons with Rex and you had yet to hit a single target.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured. "We'll just keep working until you get it down."

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, lowering the heavily modified blaster pistol until it was resting on the table in front of you. "We're losing the light and it's a bad idea to illuminate any more of the jungle than we have to."

"That's true," Rex agreed, rubbing at his neck while he studied the unharmed target. After a moment, he took the blaster pistol from your hands and holstered it at his side, then removed the holster belt as well.

You nodded sympathetically, hoping you could call it a night and put in a few hours of work on your schematics so the day wouldn't be a total waste.

Rex sighed, removing the subtly armored jacket he had been wearing during that day's training. "I guess we'll… we'll just have to switch to something less impacted by visibility."

"Wait, what?" you had time to ask before the stoic captain flat-out tackled you.

You were aware enough to know that Captain Rex had twisted to take part of the impact himself, but you still hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. In that moment of hollow gasping, Rex had pushed you onto your stomach and pinned your hands behind your back.

"The first rule of unarmed conflict is that you can't let anyone surprise you." Rex paused for a moment. "Actually, that's the first rule of any kind of conflict."

"Is the second rule that you shouldn't suffocate your sparring partner?" you croaked out, turning your head slightly so your face wasn't actively being pressed into the dirt anymore.

Rex laughed. It was the first time you had heard anything other than firm orders from him and you paused. It was a nice laugh. You were forced to gather your thoughts a moment later as he released you and helped you to your feet.

"You probably won't see a lot of hand-to-hand fighting with droids, but the armies aren't capable of anything beyond following orders. The armies are commanded by sentients, and those sentients are often closer to the armies than you would think."

"I have no intention of going after Grievous without a weapon," you joked. "Preferably more than one."

"You should stay away from Grievous no matter how many weapons you have," Rex advised. "But this is good to know, anyway."

"Actually, I agree with that," you said, surprising you both. "I'm a freelancer. Anything that helps me defend myself in a potentially hostile situation is a good thing."

"Okay, let's work on your hits, then," Rex suggested.

What followed was two full hours of unarmed combat practice. Rex was always the target, letting you throw punches and kicks against his open palms. When he realized that you were pulling your strikes because you were afraid to hurt him, he found a padded guard among the assortment of equipment the Republic had sent along.

Eventually, though, you were panting and bone-tired. Rex seemed to realize that without you saying anything.

"One last set of strikes and you're done for the night," Rex told you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you.

But as you punched, Rex moved the guard you had been aiming for. You shot him a look, but he only held the guard up, wiggling it slightly. You set up again, but Rex pulled away at the last second, dodging your fist to bop you on the shoulder with the guard.

"What are you doing?" you asked, exasperated. "You said this was the last set."

"It is. Or, it will be as soon as you actually manage to make contact."

You grimaced at him. This time, when he twisted the guard away, you turned with it. You were focused on keeping your footwork correct and your hit strong. You never even saw him move his foot between your ankles, but with a light tug, you were on the ground again.

"Seriously?" you asked from your spot in the dirt.

Rex laughed again, and this time, you didn't enjoy the sound at all. "Do you think your opponents are going to stand there and let you hit them? They're going to fight dirty - they always do. You just need to-"

As it happens, you never did learn what you needed to do. Rex had stepped too close, and your engineering experience told you that his ankles were at an angle that made him vulnerable to a hit. You kicked his ankle lightly, barely making contact, but it was enough to send one of his feet careening against the other. Rex stumbled, failed to regain his balance, and fell.

All of this was done on instinct and you felt as surprised as Rex looked when he landed on his butt in the dirt next to you.

"Good job," he said, breathless but sincere.

"Thanks," you accepted with a grin. "Does that mean I surprised you?"

"Not a bit," he denied, deflating your ego a bit. "I knew you were capable of it. You're an engineer. Engineers like angles and math. That's all combat is, adjusted for whatever you think the other side is going to do."

"Wait, that's… that's a really good point," you mused slowly. "Can I see your pistol again?"

Rex didn't move. "If you shoot me, you'll surprise me in the wrong way."

You snorted. "I'm not planning on shooting you, Captain. I just want to test how the application of math might help me."

After eyeing you for a moment, Rex stood in an enviably graceful motion and hauled you to your feet as well. Wordlessly, he handed you one of his blaster pistols. He had warned you before you began shooting that he had made numerous alterations to them, but you were still surprised by the weight of the weapon in your hand.

This time, instead of relying on instinct - point, aim, shoot - you worked to apply some logic. When you were sure about your angle, you squeezed the hyper-sensitive trigger and watched the resulting beam of weaponized light hit the target.

It wasn't a perfect shot, of course. Math couldn't fix everything. Still, you had hit the target and you cheered aloud, echoed by Rex's congratulations behind you. You had the presence of mind to set the pistol down before you turned, then Rex was grasping your forearm in the odd way warriors shook hands.

"Great job!" he told you warmly. "You're getting better."

"Thanks," you accepted, trying to vocalize your gratitude. You probably could have been offended by the tone of surprise in his voice, but you chose to overlook it.

"Now we just have to dial in your aim and get you comfortable with firing at moving targets, especially during chaotic situations."

Despite your best efforts, you felt your expression fall at that. Rex laughed again. When had he gotten so cheerful? "I'm kidding. That can be done tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you repeated doubtfully.

Rex folded his arms across his chest and stared at you steadily. "In one session, you've gone from unable to shoot a gun or throw a punch to knocking me down and hitting a target. If you can keep that pace of improvement, you'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"Or at least be able to stop clients who try to cop a feel," you added.

Despite his darkening expression, Rex's tone was unconcerned. "I'm sure you could break the hand of any di'kut dumb enough to try it now. With some training, you'd be able to tear that hand off completely."

And so you continued to train with Rex after everyone else had finished learning to disable tanks and other intense activities. During the day, you finalized schematics, studying holoimages of Onderon’s capital city of Iziz. Your goal was to record your best guesses for the most and least structurally-sound sections of the city.

The dedication the rebels showed for the safety of the Onderonian people was a big reason you had agreed to take this job. Despite what the Jedi seemed to think, you weren't actually a mercenary. You chose your jobs very carefully, and if something didn't match your morals, you would respectfully decline.

Between schematic work in the day and training at night, your time with the rebels flew past. Captain Rex continued to be patient and helpful as you worked to master the combat moves he taught you - ones decidedly more focused on self-defense than the moves he taught the rebels. The first day you had beaten him in a grappling situation, he had beamed up at you with dirt on his face and told you how far you had progressed. The squeezing of your heart at the praise warned that it was probably good that the captain and both Jedi generals were withdrawing from Onderon shortly, leaving Commander Tano to assist with the remaining rebel efforts.

Despite your determination to stay out of the conflict, you had eventually been forced into it when the Separatist armies had attacked the rebel base. One of the rebels you had known by appearance if not by name had been hit by blaster fire before he could use the rocket launcher held in his hands. He had held it up to you, begging with his eyes that you take out the ship that had fired on him before it could do more damage.

You had accepted, and the ship was a roiling ball of flame before you could make yourself nervous about shooting anything other than Rex’s now-familiar blasters. You tossed aside the rocket launcher and found a discarded blaster. From that point until the combat had ended, thoughts of schematics or building solidity were gone from your head. You were as much a part of the rebel group as anyone else, and you watched with the same horror as Steela Gerrera fell to her death, despite the best efforts of Commander Tano.

The funeral was lovely. Onderonians didn’t believe in mourning for their dead. Instead, they truly celebrated all that the departed had done to create a better society… and Steela had done a great deal.

When things had ended, you were sitting on a raised set of stairs overlooking the ceremonial area. The dais holding Steela’s cloth-draped casket was filled with people far too important for you to bother. You were glad to see Saw speaking with King Dendup. After he had handed you the agreed-upon payment for your services - despite your many attempts to refuse the credits - Saw had left, ignoring the sympathy you tried to offer. He needed to speak with someone, and if that someone was the man he and Steela had worked so hard to save, so much the better.

“Nice ceremony, huh?” someone asked from behind you, and you twisted a bit to find General Skywalker standing there with Captain Rex beside him.

You nodded, but you could feel that it was a half-hearted motion. “Steela was so young. She had a lot of promise.”

“She died fulfilling the mission she set out to finish,” Captain Rex countered. “She knew the risks and thought Dendup was worth it. Her choices were her own. All we can do is respect them.”

With a joyless smile, you said, “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It never does,” General Skywalker admitted, sitting next to you. Rex’s comlink chimed and he stepped a respectful distance away before answering it.

Skywalker sat beside you in silence for a while. Normally, you would speak first just for sake of politeness, but you weren’t feeling that generous. You let the silence linger while you watched the activity on the dais.

“Have you ever thought about using your talents for the Republic?” the general asked eventually.

“I thought I was a soulless mercenary?” you asked before you could think better of it.

“And I thought you didn’t work in combat situations,” Skywalker countered. “But I’ve seen the battlefield recordings. You handled yourself well.”

You glanced over at him in surprise. “Are you trying to contract me on as a soldier?”

“Force, no,” he denied quickly. “As an engineer. I sent samples of your work to a friend of mine who works as an engineer in the private sector and they were impressed. The GAR is struggling to find good engineers comfortable working in combat. The pay is a bit lower than you’re used to, but it’s steady work.”

Ah, he had cut straight to the heart of your problem with freelancing. The fight to survive between jobs meant that anything extra you were making was eaten up by the time you were hired on again. And your morals meant that jobs weren’t nearly as frequent as you would like them to be. But being in constant combat… Yes, you had survived this time, but that didn’t mean you were rushing to repeat the experience.

You grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if it’s for me. Combat engineering isn’t really my specialty.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” General Skywalker told you seriously. “I’ve seen samples of your past work, and a lot of it is on worlds that have a lot of fighting. I’m sure you know that none of your structures have sustained extreme damage, no matter how much combat was happening around them. That’s an impressive record.”

“You researched me?” you asked, feeling a little stunned.

“Well, the Republic likes to know who they’re hiring. But honestly, I’m not the one who did the research,” Skywalker said, looking past you. You followed his gaze to Rex, who was suddenly very intently looking at his comlink. With a mischievous grin, the general added, “I think my captain has taken a liking to you.”

You fought back a grin, turning away from the captain, and your eyes fell on Steela’s casket once more. Suddenly, keeping a straight face wasn’t as much of a struggle. “If I said yes, what would my official job duties be?”

“You would oversee a group of construction experts - both civilian and enlisted - using maps and satellite footage to find the best possible choices for locations to build bases, bridges, or other structures to help us complete campaigns,” he answered easily. “Preferably, to win campaigns, but that’s more on us than you.”

“And would I work with your group?”

“The 501st?” Skywalker asked, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure, but probably. We’re a planetary landing battalion, so we always need someone who has the knowledge of places to build. You might have to stay behind on some planets to supervise base construction, but you could always catch back up with us. Is that something you would want?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “If I did agree to that-”

“I’m no good at negotiations,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating smile. “You speak clearly about what you want and I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll work for the Republic,” you said, feeling the nerves twist in your belly. “If you can make sure I’m permanently attached to the 501st.”

“Deal,” General Skywalker accepted immediately, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Welcome to the 501st.”

---

A/N - I assure you that there is no timeline of any sort happening in my writing, so don't think too hard about where this should fit into the narrative. It won't end well.

Thanks for reading!

Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @imabeautifulbutterfly

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[mrspanky]

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[plus-size-reader]

Run Away pt.2

Negan x Plus size!reader

Word Count:1543 words

Warnings: Pregnant reader

Summary: The reader ends up back at the Sanctuary, but there are just too many unanswered questions that need answers. 

Part 1

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m pregnant…and I knew you wouldn’t want to keep it”

Your words echoed in his head a few times in a futile attempt to process what it was you were trying to tell him. It didn't make any sense really, that you'd made that jump all on your own. As shocked as he was, he also had to ask himself how he hadn't considered that possibility before now.

In all those months his men had been out there searching for you, wasting valuable time they could have been looking for resources or man power, it never once crossed his mind. He had played around with the idea of everything but that.

"Damn, you're about to blow aren't you?" he scoffed, taking in the bump you were sporting. Stretchmarks decorated your flesh, even more than before, the skin stretching to make room for the little human inside you.

It was a miracle you'd even managed to survive out there alone.

Ever since you had arrived here, people had been making comments about how you would never be able to survive on your own without Negan, how he had taken pity on you because of that. Those pricks would have to eat their words when they saw this, though.

You had more than survived.

From the looks of it, you were actually doing really well for yourself. However, he doubted it was enough for you to birth a happy baby after all this time. Thankfully, his men had found you just in time. Hopefully they could get you all cleaned up and healthy before it was time to welcome the infant into the world.

"It's been quite a while. I was at least a month along when I left" you nodded, sitting back down when you were sure he'd had enough to believe you. You were still waiting for Negan to yell or scream or something.

He was being strangely calm all things considered, and you didn't like it. You had lied to him and left him without so much as a word, but he was just standing there with a dumb look on his face. It was nothing like him.

"And you didn't tell me why? Cause you didn't think I'd wanna keep it?" he repeated, thinking back to what you'd told him. It was a bunch of bullshit, first of all, but he didn't just right in with that.

Instead, he chose to focus on something else. He didn't want to drive you away as soon as he got you back. Getting angry with you wouldn't do any good, even though his blood had been boiling at first. When you had left, he took it as a blatant rejection of him when there couldn't have been anything else.

...but if you'd left for a reason, it made it a little easier to swallow.

There was something so harsh about his words, though you had just uttered them yourself a few minutes prior. It seemed so aggressive, and so nasty but perhaps that was because you really believed that was the truth.

Negan was a bit of a narcissist, and had been as long as you'd known him. For all you knew, he wouldn't want a child, even if it wasn't a blatant threat to his life and everyone elses within the compound. The fact that it could be dangerous to have a baby around only solidified your belief.

"I knew you wouldn't want to" you shrugged, to you it was simple. If Negan wanted to have a baby, he would have done it long before you showed up. That was just the way that it was, and there was no use in denying it.

You had already decided that you were going to raise this baby by yourself, so all he had to do was get out of your way and let you do that. If you had to, you would work for your share just like the others did.

"And why would you think that?" he wondered, sitting down across you with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in silent contemplation. It was strange, to be having an actual, civilized conversation with Negan, but you weren't complaining.

If nothing else, he was hearing you out and you appreciated that. Something had clearly changed in all the time that you'd been gone, at least in him.

You sighed when those words left his lips. You knew that was coming, and still, you weren't entirely sure how to answer. There was certainly no nice and civil answer to that but you had to try and say something. Just because Negan was being patient right now didn't mean he would be for very long.

"Because if you wanted a baby, you wouldn't have had one with me, and I didn't know if I wanted to have one with you"

It was harsh, and a little self-deprecating for your taste but it was the truth. Of all his wives, there was no way that Negan would pick you if he wanted to start a family. He'd never even talked about kids before today, which for you was more than enough proof.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me, but what is that supposed to mean? It sounds like you would rather go out into literal hell-like that- then be with me" he spit, the quick-tempered old Negan rearing his head.

You knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.

"So it's not true. You wanted to have a baby? With me? Cause you definitely didn't ever mention it" you countered, raising your own voice to combat his own. This was how things always went between the two of you.

Your personalities were both too strong to ever just have a normal conversation. If it didn't end in a screaming match, then you didn't actually care. That sort of interaction became commonplace within these walls, and for a while, you actually thought it was normal.

"God, I don't know but maybe you could have asked me before getting the hell out of dodge like that!" he yelled, standing back up, his hands coming to rest on his temples as he sighed, your blood boiling at this point.

He was impossible.

You couldn't win, no matter what you did.

"You didn't give me a chance! YOU NEVER LISTENED TO ME BEFORE" you barked back, not caring who heard. Everything was always about what he wanted, all the time, and before today, he had never actually asked you how you felt.

How were you supposed to know what he wanted when you never had real conversations before? If it wasn't about the saviors or sex, he didn't want any part of it. Excuse you for not bringing up family planning before now.

"You're right"

You caught yourself almost about to yell something in rebuttal, only stopping yourself when you realized what he'd said. For a second, you actually had to wonder if you'd heard him wrong but in this moment, everything stopped.

There was no more yelling or aggressive hand gestures. In a matter of seconds, Negan was sitting back down in his chair, looking you square in the face with his hands folded again. "What did you say?" you asked, barely breathing as you waited for his reply.

Surely you didn't hear that right.

"I said you're right, I'm sorry" he repeated, basically confirming that you were either losing your mind or you'd died and somehow ended up somewhere else. In any case, you practically had to pick your jaw up from the floor before you could address him.

You couldn't believe what was happening right now. Then again, it had been quite a while since you'd been around Negan's breakneck mood swings.

"Thank you" you tried, ignoring for a brief moment who strange this all felt. Normally the conversation didn't end until one of you screamed for the other to leave, but maybe this was better. Maybe the distance had been good for the both of you.

Whatever it was, the conversation you had been having was over, or at least on a pause for the moment. "I don't want to fight with you anymore, it isn't good for the baby" he reasoned, standing from where he was sitting to make his way over to the door.

It was all very civil, making you sort of uncomfortable from where you were sitting but before you could stop him or say something antagonizing to get him back in front of you, he was speaking again.

"You want to bunk with me or should I have Dwight set up a room for you?" Negan asked, answering each and every one of those unanswered thoughts you'd had swarming around in your head without even meaning too.

You took a second to think about it, but before you could answer, he had already decided for you. All this time, you'd been alone, but he wasn't going to make you do that ever again. You had some kind of idea about what kind of man he was, but Negan was determined to prove you wrong.

"I'll have a room prepped, but my doors open too" and with that, he was gone.

That was one hell of a Welcome Home.

[snowdragon4]

Cops and Robbers. A Bbrae AU

As much as Rachel enjoyed her job, she couldn’t help, but feel exhausted coming home at the end of a long day. Maybe it was the fact that she was on her feet all day, thank goodness for whoever invented flats. Still it was stable and fine work, a solid nine to five, giving her enough time to get home to work on her novel. The monotony of her daily routine was broken up when on her way home she noted a healthy handful of police cars driving around her neighborhood.

“Huh? I wonder if Dick could let me know what’s going on?” She of course was referring to her cop neighbor, Dick Grayson, but driving by his house, all the lights were shut off. “Maybe he and Kory are out.” She shrugged it off and parked her car before entering her home.

She moved through the doors of her modest three bedroom home as she usually did. Keys and mail on the table by her door, purse and jacket on a hook, turned on the TV for a bit of background noise and a nice cold beer in the fridge calling her name. She figured she’d make herself dinner, take a hot bath, and settle in for a night of writing.

With the news in the background she went about her nightly routine.

“—citizens of Jump city should be advised that the suspect could be armed and dangerous. For those who are just joining, please be on the lookout for Garfield Mark Logan, who escaped police custody earlier this evening—“

She took a beer from the fridge and removed the cap. “If his parents named him ‘Garfield’ they belong in prison too.” She commented dryly.

“—Garfield is wanted for the murder—“

She had gone to the counter when something had occurred to her. Going back she opened the door to the fridge and noticed something.

She was a creature of habit and structure, bordering on obsessive compulsiveness, but it made sense to keep her world in order at least. She had so much practice in fact that she noticed things out of place, even if it was just a fleeting glance. In this case there was something wrong with her beer. Was she missing one? She went shopping the other day, and only allowed herself and one a day or less, so surely she couldn’t have had more than one.

She counted a few more times, but came to the conclusion that she was, somehow, short one beer.

She took a step back when she felt something crunch beneath her heel. Lifting her foot she saw a pebble and some dirt, something she hadn’t noticed before. Didn’t she just clean the other day? Looking around she noticed more and more dirt leading from her kitchen and to the back door.

A back door that wasn’t locked.

If there was one thing she was absolutely sure about, it was that she ALWAYS locked her doors.

Her blue eyes flitted to the TV, noting the news report about an escaped convict, but surely he wouldn’t have run into a suburban neighborhood. That kind of stuff only happened in movies. Right?

She broke into a run, heading for her front door, but her hand had barely touched the knob when she felt someone wrap their arm around her waist and a hand clap over her mouth. Reacting purely on instinct, she stumped on their foot, eliciting a manly grunt of pain, and elbowed them in the ribs causing them to release her.

Momentarily free, she ran for the back door, telling herself she just had to get next door to Dick and Korys house. Nobody may have been home, but she would have felt safer in a cops home.

She weaved through the kitchen, aware that he was right behind her, but she kept her eyes on the door. She put her hands around the knob, but felt a pair of hands grab her arms and pull her back. She stumbled over something, him possibly, and fell backwards, hitting her head on the counter and collapsing onto the floor unconscious.

—:0:—

Her head was pounding as she slowly came back to consciousness, but when she tried to move her hands, they were stuck, in fact she couldn’t move any part of her body. Regardless of how much pain she was in, her eyes snapped open, finding that she was tied to a chair. Her hands had been pulled behind the chair, rope wrapping around her wrists and to the bars of the chair. Her ankles had been tied to the bottom rung of the chair and rope had been thrown over her lap, waist, and shoulders to keep her tied firmly to the chair back. Moving her head she felt one of her scarves had been stuffed in between her teeth and tied behind her head.

Saying she was in trouble was an understatement.

She wanted to panic, but she forced her rational, obsessive mind to take control. She took a few breaths through her nose to assess her situation. Looking around she was in her bedroom, the curtains drawn and the door closed. She had been tied to one of her kitchen chairs with rope that she kept in her garage that she used when she went camping to enjoy nature and solitude.

Her panic returned.

She had been unconscious, did he…?

She looked at herself, and aside from the rope she was still in the clothes she was in when she got home, white button up shirt and black skirt with flats, and nothing had been removed. Aside from the pain in her head, and the discomfort of the rope, she didn’t feel pain anywhere else.

Her rational mind returned.

So he knocked me out? Tied me up, but didn’t take advantage of me? He’s probably looting my home. But all of her valuables were in her room, were she was alone.

Still, a strange man was in her home, she was tied up and helpless. This wasn’t good.

Red and blue lights flashed outside her window, and a spark of hope lit inside her. Using her whole body, she began pushing the chair towards the window. If she could somehow get the curtain open, maybe someone could see her and possibly rescue her.

It was worth a shot, but not to be.

The door to her room opened and her chair was quickly grabbed and pulled away from the window. She grunted and growled behind her gag, struggling against the tight ropes. Whatever he was going to do, she was going to make it as hard for him as possible.

But she wasn’t expecting this.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please calm down! please!”

She paused. Sorry? Please? She focused on the man, seeing that it wasn’t quite a “man” at all. He was young, twenties maybe, with disheveled blonde hair and a dirty complexion and clothing. His eyes were a piercing green that were pleading, fearful, and remorseful. Her brows narrowed, angry, but curious. What kind of home intruder was this?

He sighed in relief when she settled down. “Thank you.” He stood up and started pacing, his hands running through his blonde locks. “I am so, so, so, so, sorry about this. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Any of this. It's just—ugh!” She involuntarily flinched at his outburst. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry I didn’t mean…” He continued babbling incoherently, that was beginning to grate on her nerves, but looking past him, saw that he had brought in a water bottle. For her maybe?

“Uughmph!” She grunted to get his attention, then motioned her head towards the water bottle.

“Oh! Yeah!” He grabbed it and brought it towards her. “Sorry, I’m just,” he paused, “wait, you're not gonna scream are you?”

She watched him closely, he broke into her home, attacked her, tied her up, and was now helpless and at his mercy.

Yet she wasn’t afraid.

Slowly, she shook her head no. He eyed her for a moment, but slowly came up to slip the gag from her mouth.

She moved her jaw around, sighing with relief, but didn’t scream. “Thank you.” She could see weight being lifted from his shoulders and a small, attractive smile on his lips. “Um, water?”

“Oh yes!” He brought it to her lips and allowed her a small drink. Her eyes closed at the liquid cooling her insides, helping to soothe and calm her down. She finished and he took the bottle away.

“Thank you.” She flexed against the rope. “Now can you untie me?”

The weight returned, and his smile faded into a worried stare. “Um… not yet, but if you don’t scream I’ll keep the gag out.”

Their eyes met, and still she couldn’t find any malice or maliciousness. She didn’t feel threatened, rather this felt like a necessity for him, self preservation, like a cornered animal.

Still she had to keep her guard up.

“Fair enough.”

He sighed again, becoming more relaxed, and he sat on top of her bed, a heavy silence settling between them. “So, um, you’re probably wondering what’s going on?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m mildly curious.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Well, um, I’m Gar, and I’m…”

“—on the run from the police?” He looked surprised, “you’re on the news. Everyone is looking for you.”

His eyes dipped with what looked like hurt. “Oh.” Her head tilted in curiosity as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

Now getting annoyed, “You’ve said that already.” She struggled against the ropes again. “Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?”

He lifted his head, wiping away a few tears. “Sor—erm, yes. Well,” he stood up, “I should start from the beginning I guess. So I was dating this girl, Terra, and I was crazy about her, but what she didn’t tell me was that another guy was obsessed with her. Some guy named Slade, I don’t know, but anyways he was stalking her, calling her, following her, all kinds of stuff.”

He slowed down, his voice tightening up. “I, uh, was at work, and when I got home…” his hands came up to his mouth, “she was…”

She couldn’t help but feel pity for him. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, wiping his tears again. “Thanks. Anyways I called the cops and when they showed up, they arrested ME?”

Her head lifted. “What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. They just showed up and slapped the cuffs on me! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

She waited a beat, wondering if he was serious or just stupid. “No. I have no idea what it’s like for someone to come uninvited to my home and restrain me against my will.”

He chuckled nervously. “Heh. Sorry—I mean. Um… anyways…”

There was silence for a moment or two. “Why did you escape? Why not just go to the station and plead your case?” She asked.

“I did! I mean, I wanted to…but I don’t know.” His hands ran through his hair again. “The cop car they took me in was T-boned, and the next thing I knew I was running for my life.”

She quirked a brow as she came to the conclusion on her own. “You mean you broke into my home by chance?”

He nodded. “It was the only home I saw with the lights off at the time, I picked the lock, and snuck inside. I grabbed a beer and was gonna leave when the heat died down, but then, I heard your neighbors leave so I hid.”

“Then I got home, and the rest is history.” She finished.

“Yeah. I hid as best I could, but when I saw you see the dirt on the ground, I knew I was done.” He motioned to the ropes. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just panicked.”

She relaxed a bit. “I see.”

Silence again, this time a bit more uncomfortable. “So, um, what’s your name?”

He shrunk beneath her glare. “You broke into my home, knocked me out, drank my beer, and tied me up. We are not going to have small talk.”

He gulped with another nervous smile. “Cool.”

He clapped his hands on his knees. “So what now?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

She pulled against the rope again. “Well if you're open to suggestions.”

“I know, I know, I can untie you and I will, I promise. I just need to think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well take your time, it’s not like my hands need steady blood flow or anything.” She softened her tone. “But seriously. You need to turn yourself in, if you’re innocent then an investigation will show that.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just not a fan of being caged or anything.” He stood up. “Just, give me a minute.” He left her alone, giving her a chance to test the ropes again, but they were unyielding. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by his knot work.

After a few minutes of struggling she sat back and relaxed, unable to free herself she had nothing left to do but wait for him to let her go. Hopefully soon since she had lost the feeling in her hands a while ago.

Finally after what felt like ages he returned. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He untied the scarf from her neck. “I’m going to turn myself in, but there’s some things I need to do first, but here’s the bad part. I’m gonna to leave you here.”

She was actually relieved to hear this. He wasn’t dangerous, sure, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be a hostage. “But I’m not gonna untie you either. I’m gonna make a 911 call and tell them about a pretty dark haired woman tied up and get the cops to come and untie you. Sound good?”

Her face was placid as she responded, but ultimately relieved. “Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled. “I guess not. Again, I’m sorry about all this.”

He brought the scarf to her mouth to regag her. “Rachel.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Rachel.”

He smiled. A wide smile that made her stomach flutter. “Rachel. Nice to meet you.”

—:0:—

The door burst open. “Police! Show me your hands!” Rachel flinched at the light shining in her eyes. “Is there anyone else in the house?” She shook her head as the officer came closer once the light was out of her eyes, she saw her neighbor, Dick Grayson remove the gag from her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she droned, “did you stop for drive through?”

He let out a relieved chuckle, “Don’t you mean, ‘thank you for saving me’?”

“You’re right Dick, how about I give you a big hug… Oh wait.”

He moved behind her and began to undo the ropes. “Did you see who did this to you?”

“Nope.” She stated matter of factly. “They knocked me out and I woke up like this.”

[teamhook]

Emma and Killian :: Kate and Leopold CS AU for CSMM

Hello lovelies!! So I’m on a schedule and you will be getting updates for my fics. 3 per Month ;)

I want to thank @captainswanmoviemarathon and the wonderful CSMM Discord Family. My co-writer @revanmeetra87

I want to also thank @ultraluckycatnd for Beta-ing thiis thing for us.

|FFN|

|AO3|

Friday and The Weekend

Killian and David shared a guilty look. They had both behaved like children. Killian knew he had more than the other, in part due to his inebriety and the other part was jealousy of what he didn't know. Killian said goodnight to his mate and went home to ponder on his actions.

He decided he would try his best to make amends to her. So he did what he did best, put his thoughts on paper, and hoped that it would grant him redemption.

The next day, Emma woke up and got ready fast. She had to get to work and somehow fix the mess her brother and that jerk that couldn't keep his mouth shut had made.

David greeted her in the kitchen with a cup of coffee ready for her which she promptly snubbed and rushed out.

David had arranged for Emma to find the letter that Killian had dropped off earlier, but she was eager to leave the apartment. He knew they both had misbehaved and his sister was in her right to be angry at them.

He grabbed both the letter and the first fruit in the basket he could and dashed after her.

Emma had reached the street and was just about to hail a cab when she heard David's voice. "Ems! Emma, wait!"

She halted because she loved her idiot brother, and it's them against the world.

She turned to face him with her best 'you're in trouble' face.

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry. I know I fucked things up for us. I know that everything you do is for us to have a better life."

Emma stared her brother down. "I have to go clean up the mess you two made."

"Emma, I know and for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry. Here, you can't go to work on an empty stomach," David said as he handed her a papaya. "Yeah, I know that," Emma says as she looks to the street for a cab. That's when he slipped the letter into her bag. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Emma arrived at work, waiting for the fallout of the previous night, but it never came. She was told there's a meeting with marketing, and she was the last one to arrive. She rushed into the conference room and took a seat so they could finally begin. The marketing team was going over the troubles they had come across due to the texture of the margarine. Emma peeked at her boss to see if looked angry or like the usual. She really doesn't see a change in him, but they have yet to talk. She sighed and opened her bag to pull out some papers. An envelope caught her eye and she quietly opened it.

 Dearest Emma...

I behaved as an imbecile last night, animated in part by drink, in part by your beauty, and in part by my own foolish pride and for that, I am profoundly sorry. Please accept, as a gesture of apology for my bad form, a private dinner on the rooftop tonight at 8 O'Clock.

Yours truly, Killian

 Emma felt her cheeks blush as her thoughts were interrupted by her boss.

"Emma, dear, where are we on Farmer's Bounty?" Mr. Oz asked.

Emma turned to her boss and took a deep breath. "We are good. As you know, we found our spokesperson. The response room final showed a 98 in the top two boxes. His key female descriptors were handsome, romantic, and with some write-ins of "What a babe".

Mr. Oz sullenly replied with a simple, "Great."

As they ended the meeting and everyone went back to work, Mary Margaret was waiting for her. Emma handed her assistant her bag and rushed after Walsh to say her apologies.

"Mr. Oz, I mean Walsh, I just want to apologize for what happened last night," Emma said.

"I appreciate that," he simply said.

"So are we okay?" she asks, hopeful.

"Yes, we are. Now if you would excuse me, I have to make some calls. We will talk later," Walsh said as he walked to his office.

Meanwhile, Jefferson was losing his patience at the Hospital. He just wanted to get released so he could get home and get Killian back to his time. Out of pure desperation, he thought explaining the situation to his doctor would be enough, but Dr. Hyde wasn't as receptive as he had hoped.

"I didn't jump to my death. I fell because there was no elevator," Jefferson clarified.

Dr. Hyde nodded. "And you feel it's somehow your fault?"

"Well, it stands to reason that nature would correct itself since my great-great-grandfather isn't there to invent the elevator or spawn his seed," Jefferson added matter of factly.

"Both you and the elevator would cease to exist, but clearly do," the doctor said.

Jefferson shook his head. "I can see you are a very busy man and I hate to take up your valuable time. I'm not one of those people who need your attention. Would you please just sign my release papers?"

Dr. Hyde sighed. "I'm concerned you might be a danger to yourself. State law requires that I keep you here in such cases. I'm afraid I cannot in good conscience sign your release."

Jefferson tried to open the door while balancing on crutches.

Before he could open it, the door flew open. "Dr. Hyde, is there a problem?" a lovely woman asked.

"No Priscilla, everything is fine. Could you please assist Jefferson back to his room and ensure this prescription is filled?" Dr. Hyde said to his nurse.

"Jefferson, I'm going to prescribe a mild antipsychotic. Nothing too strong."

Wandering around in circles in Game of Thorns, David looked over his notes, nerves getting worse with each lap.

"Mary Margaret, did you want - no, Mary Margaret, would you like...uggh…"

He was never going to convince her to go on a date if he tried mumbling and bumbling through his invitation. He was already humiliated, and he wasn't even asking her yet!

Outside of the flower shop, he could see Killian handing a street musician some cash as he made a request. Just what the request was, David couldn't quite hear.

Well, he had enough of his own problems to deal with, in any case.

Killian then entered the shop, and David practically pounced on him. "Listen, Killian, about the things you wrote for me here, for Mary Margaret...Some if it seems kind of…"

"Did you pick your flowers?" Killian asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh. Yep. Right, uhhh...here," David said, grabbing the nearest arrangement. "Now, about this speech-"

"Oh no, this will not do," Killian said, concerned.

"What, the flowers?" David looked at them for the first time. They seemed pretty enough to him. Plenty of colors. They even smelled nice.

"The orange lily suggests extreme hatred. The begonia and lavender danger and suspicion, respectively. Every flower has a meaning." Glancing around him, Killian grasped an enormous (and to David, absurd-looking) flower and held it in front of David. "Might I suggest the amaryllis, which declares the recipient a most splendid beauty. Or-" Breaking off, Killian strode forward. "- the cabbage rose…"

Sighing, hoping Killian was right about all this, David followed.

Inside her office, Emma lifted a piece of paper that was accepting Killian's invitation.

The only problem?

She hadn't written it.

Grinding her teeth, trying to pretend she was angry at her assistant and not at the fact that she did want to accept Killian's offer, Emma called for Mary Margaret.

Almost immediately, Mary Margaret poked her head in the office. "Yes?"

"What is this?" asked Emma, waving the paper in the air.

"It's your agreement to having dinner with Killian," she responded, as though there was nothing unusual about it. "I made it up for you to sign."

"I hadn't decided if I was going!" Emma cried, slapping the letter on her desk. She knew she was overreacting, but the thought of a private dinner with Killian was making her so...so stupidly nervous.

Mary Margaret lifted her chin, and a bit of fire entered her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said in the strongest voice Emma had ever heard from her. "But that is the best apology in the history of mankind, and if you don't go with him, I know you will regret it! Please, just sign it, and we can fax it to him. There is still time."

Taken aback by her usually shy assistant's firm manner, Emma closed her eyes, bit her lip, and grabbed for her pen.

Inside Jefferson's apartment, Killian was cooking the meal for his dinner with Emma. To his relief and delight, he had received the fax confirming her presence.

Taking his eyes from the stove, while still being attentive to his work, Killian watched as David paced the room nervously with the telephone to his ear.

Suddenly, with a little start, David said, "Oh, hi Mary Margaret; it's me, David. I was calling to see if you got my flowers. I mean your flowers. I mean the ones I sent?" He paused for a breath, then said "Good!" to the reply. He then looked to Killian, voice stalling.

Killian gave him a smile and a nod. "You can do this, my friend."

Pressing onward, David continued. "I was wondering if you would like to go to a movie, and then...perhaps accompany me to dinner?" Waving his free hand, he rushed on, "I-I-I-I understand completely if you are otherwise engaged. But, uh, I just wanted to say, umm…" Stopping to consult his notes, a small furrow appeared in David's brow.

"Come on. No need to be ashamed. You can do the speech as written," Killian encouraged silently.

"I wanted to say you've made an impression on me. And...and it's not only because you are so pretty. I mean, you're very pretty, but it's more than that. It's, umm...You're graceful. You know, the way you move, and speak. You just have a way with words. And I really, really like you."

There was a very long pause, during which David looked terrified. Then, responding to what Mary Margaret had said, he mumbled, "Seven? Yes! Yes, seven would be great. Would be fantastic. See you then!"

He ended the call, then jumped straight up in the air victoriously. "I did it! I am going out with Mary Margaret!"

Killian chuckled as David did a small dance.

"I gotta go get ready!" David exclaimed.

Emma arrived home and she would deny it to anyone, but she was a little excited about the dinner date with Killian. She was about to go to her room to get ready when her brother came out of his room looking very handsome. He had a silly grin on his face that she had not seen in a while.

David smiled wide at his sister as he greeted her with a quick kiss on her cheek.

"You look very handsome David. I didn't know you were going out tonight."

"Yeah, I have plans. It was unplanned until earlier today."

"So is this a big date?" she asked.

"Yeah, Ems I really like this girl."

"Who is the lucky lady?"

"Uhm, if it goes well, I'll tell you tomorrow, but I just don't want to jinx it."

Emma nodded. "Okay, good luck, and for what it's worth, she is lucky to have your attention."

"Thanks, and I think you are supposed to say that cause you are my sister."

"Just stating facts, David. You don't give yourself enough credit. You are one of the good ones."

"Ems, so are you. Have fun tonight, okay?"

She smiled. "I will. Now go before you are late for the big date!"

Finally, in her room, she opened her closet. She ruffled through the hangers, trying to find the right outfit. Her eyes landed on a pale pink dress she purchased years ago, and it never felt right to wear until now.

The dress fit perfectly and it made her feel like a true princess. She put her hair in a high ponytail with very light makeup, just enough to heighten her looks. Why was she so nervous?

It was time to make her way up to the roof.

Emma opened the roof door slowly and was astonished at the display in front of her. There were fairy lights hanging, creating a magical environment, and a man was playing the violin. The table was set with candlelight, and she could see a wine bottle next to plates and the tray with the food. Her mouth opened at the effort Killian made to please her.

"This is beautiful! You didn't have to go to so much trouble," Emma said, biting her bottom lip.

"No trouble at all, lass," Killian confirmed as he met her to guide her to her seat.

"May I?" he asked as he grabbed the chair to pull it out for her.

She nodded, unable to speak. He looked handsome wearing his old-timey outfit. Perhaps the atmosphere he created made him appear as if he was the lead in a romantic novel.

Emma stared into the night for a moment. "My mom was a true romantic." She smiled fondly. "She cried for weeks after Prince Charles and Lady Di got married."

Killian furrowed his brows. "I'm not familiar with them."

"Oh, trust me, you wouldn't want to be. A cautionary tale, proof that you can't live a fairy tale," Emma said and added, "I'm not very good with men."

"Perhaps you haven't found the right one," he said hopefully.

"Maybe, True Love only exists in fairy tales."

"My brother told me I had become a blemish on the family name due to an indiscretion from my youth, and now he tries to marry me off every chance he gets. I would be married now if I hadn't followed Jefferson. I was to announce a bride that night."

"Who?"

He sighed. "I don't know, it didn't matter to him. I suppose the one with the most money. Our family fortune is gone, and all we have is the family name."

After they finished eating, Emma stood up to start cleaning.

"What are you doing?" Killian asked.

"Just cleaning up."

"The night is not over yet. Would you do me the honor of a dance? Please?" he asked as he extended his hand for her to take.

"I'm not a good dancer," she said as she took his hand.

"There's only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what he's doing." He winked, pulling her close to him as she rolled her eyes, and they started gliding.

"Smee always told me love is a leap. I was never ready to jump until I met you."

"Killian, this was lovely but I don't know if I can leap, even if I am inspired." The lightness she had felt while dancing with him was sinking into harsh reality. And she was afraid. "I'm not...not brave enough."

Then, in the next moment, he was quoting something to her, something beautiful and flowery and perfectly Killian, and she was kissing him, warmth spreading from her chest all the way to her toes.

The next morning, after a wonderful date with Mary Margaret, David woke to the sound of Killian cooking breakfast.

They exchanged hellos, each asking how the other's date went. According to Killian, his date had also gone well.

David was pleased, but something was nagging at him. Emma was so rarely happy these days. And it was great that Killian was helping her to take down her walls, but if things were to continue...well, he wanted to make sure Emma was with someone she could really trust.

"Look, Killian, I have to ask you…" David trailed off. "Who are you? I mean, really?"

Killian spread some jam on toast, seeming confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's been a lot of fun doing the duke act with you, but...Emma's been through a lot, and I don't want her to have to deal with even more."

Killian lifted his hand. "I understand, David."

"So...Who are you?"

With a deep breath, Killian said, "I am the man who loves your sister. Who would go to the end of the world, or time, for her."

And with that, David was reassured.

David showed Killian how to master the dishwasher after breakfast was made. Killian was still in awe of the technology of the time.

"Just make sure Emma sees you push the button. Whatever you do, don't press it until she is awake to see you do it."

"Oh, clever. The proverbial tree in the woods. If a man washes a dish and no one sees it...Did it happen?"

"Exactly!" David said, excitedly.

Emma then made her appearance. Her stomach growled at the delicious scent.

Killian's smile welcomed her. "Love, a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

David watched the pair making eyes at each other and decided not to be a third wheel and made his escape. Perhaps he could call Mary Margaret to make more plans.

Killian got a plate ready for Emma as she took her seat.

"Nine-grain toast with strawberries and mascarpone, my lady."

"Yum, this is really good," she moaned as she took bite after bite.

He hadn't seen anything as beautiful in his life.

Emma took the last bite and turned to Killian with a smile. "What should we do today?"

"Your heart's desire," Killian simply answered.

Emma and Killian get dressed, independently of course. Killian Jones was always a gentleman, after all. They set out to explore the city together.

Killian stopped at a market table full of sunglasses.

Emma snorted. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, no," she said as she took the glasses away from him, scrunched her face, and put them back on their display.

Killian looked so sad as he faced her.

"Make that face all you want, but those glasses were so inappropriate for you."

He quirked an eyebrow and they resumed their walk.

Killian gasped. "Emma, love. Emma, come!" he said excitedly as he pulled her toward a house.

"Killian, what are you doing?" she hissed.

He had gotten them inside the house; it appeared to be a museum of sorts.

"Bloody hell! This is where I lived. Good Lord. A portrait of my parents, my brother... and me." He pulled her up the stairs.

Emma looked at the portrait and gulped as she passed it. She still tried to find logic and deny what he told her was true. "Killian, I don't think that we should just be barging around here like that."

Killian held her hand as he pulled her all over the house before he stopped and stood in front of one of the rooms. He faced her with a smile. "Emma, this is my old quarters," he said as he walked to his hidden spot.

Emma looked around frantically. "What are you doing?"

He put pressure on a spot, then they heard a crackling sound. "Emma, this is the place where I put everything I most cared for. Things I didn't want Liam to touch. Like our mother's ring." He showed her a beautiful ring that he somehow knew its hiding place, and she hated to think what that truly meant for them, so she ignored the nagging pull in her heart.

Emma smiled. "Oh, it's breathtaking."

Later that evening, Emma and Killian finally end up cuddled on the sofa together after their day exploring the city.

Emma had her hand on his chest, playing with the hair there. She felt so comfortable in his arms. She sighed. "Do you..."

"Hmm, What would like to know, love?" he asked as he gently caressed her back.

She sighed and shifted in his embrace to see his face. "Do you miss where you're from?"

"Ah, I suppose I do in a way. There are things I miss, such as its rhythm."

"Is that slower like today?"

"Aye, quite a bit slower." He smiled.

She groaned. "That means that tomorrow is Sunday. I don't want it to be Sunday. What I do want is more of this." She snuggled closer to him.

He laughed heartily.

"Ooh, Monday is when we shoot your commercial so that's something exciting." She hummed comfortably from her cozy little bubble.

Not long after that, she drifted into sleep.

Killian kissed the top of her head and took out his mother's ring. He knew she had fallen asleep and it was now a lost moment. He picked her up and took her to bed, and tucked her in affectionately.

Emma said sleepily, "You're tucking me in."

"Aye."

"Huh, you're my Smee."

"Yes, I am Your Grace."

"Hey, hey, you don't have to... don't go upstairs. Stay."

He nodded and got in bed behind her, spooning her. He whispered, "I love you, Emma," in her ear before drifting off to sleep himself.

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4  @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615  @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713    @donteattheappleshook @spacekrulesbians @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes  @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81 @sals86 @elizabeethan @brooke-to-broch @hookedonhiddles @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @cocohook38 @zaharadessert​​

[id-never-letyoudown]

Rare pair hell below (plz work readmore) part 2

Henry Hidgens didn't have the best childhood. Being shipped off to live with his aunt and uncle after coming out to his parents and then disowned does not make for a happy nor healthy mind. He was sixteen when it happened. His only light in those trying times were his aunt and uncle. They supported him. No matter what he wished to do.

He wanted to learn an instrument? Sure. He wanted to take up songwriting? Absolutely. Shoot a gun? You bet. And Henry was quite ambitious to say the least. He dabbled in a little bit of everything while he lived with them. It had been the first time he'd been allowed to truly express himself.

And they accepted him. Sure they had to get used to a few things, they'd sometimes use the wrong name-but they were always quick to correct themselves. And that was all he could ask for. His parents never bothered to try. Last he heard they were telling people that their only daughter had died and they had no sons.

Henry wanted to do big things, make a name for himself doing what he loved. And he just happened to love many things-and if you asked him he excelled at them all. Of course.

It took some string pulling and a lot of extra credit and the like, but Henry had managed to get himself accepted into a nice college outside of Hatchetfield. He never could decide on what he wanted to do, so again he tried a bit of everything that tickled his fancy.

He was particularly gifted in biology. Anything to do with the human body. And had a special interest in things that had adverse effects on them as well. Diseases, plagues-you name it.

His presentations drew a lot of attention. Attention that brought him to the door of the P.E.I.P. Not literally to their door, of course. Especially when he moved back and resumed his studies in Hatchetfield. They were interested in him. His intellect. And thought he could help them. The fact that he called Hatchetfield his home was another point of interest. And the fact that his last remaining family had died in a freak accident months prior made him stand out. A smart man who knew how to handle a gun and who wouldn't be missed if he should disappear? He was practically made for their organization.

Henry declined their initial offer, having just landed a position on a team of scientists currently studying a disease he was very curious about-and just so happened to be immune to.

He had made a lot of friends at Hatchetfield Community College-a few of which became his lovers. They would all go to the football field at five o'clock to catch up every day. Always. Henry had been a little impatient and wasn't as thorough as he should have been during his decontamination procedure one day, eager to see his boys.

He infected every one of them. And had to watch them each die, one by one. Comforting them while searching for a cure. He still visits that campus in the anniversary of the start of their collective deaths, because having to go back days in a row would have been too much for him.

He ended up joining P.E.I.P shortly after that. He wasn't at the top of their ranks, sure. But he was known as a good marksman and the person you wanted to see if you needed some special equipment. But his speciality was theorizing. Because he had this uncanny ability of almost always being right.

It was discovered that he had foresight. Not the most powerful they've seen, but a good asset nonetheless. This is what made him a valuable member of P.E.I.P.

It should be noted that Henry, though preferring very much to work alone, had grown incredibly fond of a certain general. The two had even-and continue to-hooked up on several occasions. Henry had gotten a little attached and was hurt when he discovered McNamara was marrying his good friend Xander-but he supported them both fully. The three do still fool around together and Henry even became the surrogate for their son, in exchange for "a bottle of brandy for every stretchmark" and "never ask me for anything ever again".

His time at P.E.I.P was filled with adventure and excitement. He loved every minute of it.

And then the fatal day happened.

Henry was well aware that they had lost an agent to the Black and White. But that didn't stop his curiosity. He swore it was like it was calling to him. The portal. He'd dream about it. Sometimes he found himself passing by the lab it was kept in and stopping for no reason other than to gaze longingly at it.

He didn't have the clearance to venture into the Black and White, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't come up with a good enough reason for he himself to go.

And then one day he just so happened to find the masterkey card just... lying on his desk. Like it was waiting for him. And when he grabbed it it felt as though someone was standing right over him. Just this great, overwhelming presence. But a... welcomed one. Which wouldn't make sense to him until later.

He had to sneak in when everyone else had gone. But once he made it, once he stepped into the Black and White for the very first time-he fucking ate the primordial pavement and cracked his helmet.

And just as the panic was about to set in he heard it. A man's voice. One he's heard before but could only now make out.

It'd felt like he'd been wandering around that great expanse of nothingness for days-it had only been minutes-but seeing this stranger, and knowing he must have so much to tell him, made it all worth it.

"Was wondering when you were gonna get the hints, Dove." The man spoke, wearing far too much denim for Henry's tastes-but somehow he made it work. "Bet you got a lotta questions."

"You have no idea-" where did he go-oh!

Henry's helmet was gone now. And he could feel the man's warm breath against his ear. And feel him right behind him. Practically touching. "Oh but I do." When he turned around the man was gone. Henry only had to look back to find him in his original position. "And I can answer them all."

".... There's a catch, isn't there." It wasn't a question. Henry knew he needed to leave through the portal soon, unless he wanted to stay there trapped forever. "What do you want?"

"Smart, Dove. See, that's why I like you. Straight to the point. You know exactly what you want." Oh please, it took him years to settle on a major- "It just wasn't plain to see. Power."

"Power?"

"Power. Fame. Recognition. And everything in between. I can give you it all. All you have to do is shake my hand."

"I shake your hand and I become a pawn for one of your lords, is that right?" Henry eyes him skeptically, but the offer was tempting. After all-

"You know apotheosis is already upon us. Might as well rig the show while there still is one."

Henry stares at the stretched out hand, his own twitching at his side. It was true. He's seen it. Several Its, actually. So many outcomes. So many branching realities. Lost when he woke up. But coming back to the surface the longer he stayed here.

"I..." He reached for his hand, eyes finding bright, apple green. He saw a promise. A promise for power. For the ability to set the pieces wherever he wished and watch them fall. For everything he could ever wish for and... more? More.

Henry wanted so much more than what he'd been given. What he worked for.

And just as he was about to lay his palm down he was yanked back. Something had pulled on his lifeline, sending him stumbling back.

"Henry!" The general shouted behind him, and just as he looked back, to give the stranger one more look, he was gone. "Henry what were you thinking?!"

"No..." Henry had to be dragged back through the portal, kicking and screaming. "No-let me go! Let me-" and then the crying began. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. When he finally stopped resisting McNamara let him sink to the floor, in front of the deactivated portal. And the promises it held.

"You should have let me go." His voice cracked, slumping foward. Black strands of hair fell in his face, obscuring his vision. Not that the tears weren't already doing that. "You should have-" he hiccupped.

A hush fell over the room. An odd tingling sensation ran over him. Similar to walking out into the heat after spending hours in a cold theater. His hair, strand by strand. From root to tip. Began to turn a silvery white.

Needless to say P.E.I.P didn't let him go for a long while after that. They interrogated him. Poked and prodded. Took samples of his hair. Something told Henry he needed them to think he was just slightly unhinged. Just a bit. Just enough to get them to believe he wasn't a threat.

And when they did let him go, they called it 'retirement' and gave him a new identity. And a job as a professor. Just to be safe. So no one would ask questions. He wasn't particularly happy about it. And stormed out of the facility in a huff. During a big storm.

McNamara was right on his heels. "This is just a precaution, Henry-"

"A precaution?! Putting foam on sharp corners in a precaution-this is just-u g h!" Henry threw his hands up, already soaked to the bone. White hair sticking to his face. Damn he needed a haircut. "This is wrong and you know it!"

"You entered the portal without permission-do you know what could have happened if I didn't come back?!" He had to shout just to be heard over the sound of pouring rain.

"This place was like home to me, you know that-and I make one mistake and that's it?! Poof! How fair is that?!"

"I'm trying to convince them to let you back on, I just need you to lay low-"

"Lay low?!" He laughed bitterly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. You couldn't even tell the difference between the rain and his tears. "I'm Henry 'Hidgens' now! What the fuck kind of name is that? And sixty-three?! R e a l l y?! I don't even look that old! Who's going to believe that?!"

He spread his arms out in a wide arc, "You're all going to regret not having me here, just you wait and see. You're going to come crawling to ol' Henry Hidgens, Biology professor at Hatchetfield Community College for help one day and you know what he's going to say? Fuck y-"

Thunder shook the area, lightning lighting up the sky in a crooked arc. And then, in the blink of an eye, Henry was struck.

That's what he got for ranting in the middle of a storm.

Anyways, when he was given the okay to return home he spent months crafting his new life. Hey, if he was going to be given a new identity he might as well have fun with itm and he still had to heal from that lightning strike.

He bore a scar that branched like veins all down across his body. Staring from the left side of his neck, and down to his right ankle. He liked to play up the 'unhinged and questionable professor' bit a lot. And loved to pepper in the very real fact that he'd been struck by lightning.

Hell of a thing to brag about.

It had been nearly half a year now since then. He's settled into his new life nicely. Becoming Hatchetfield's known hermit of a whacky professor.

Lately he'd been having a feeling he was being watched. And sometimes, sometimes, he'd see him. The man he now knew as Wilbur Cross. The agent P.E.I.P had lost. They never told him what actually happened though.

He had just come in from his garden one day when he felt it. That familiar presence.

Henry set his basket of apples down. His aunt and uncle had owned this house before, and planted a nice garden-which had been neglected after their passing, but Henry was tending it now. They had a few apple trees as well. Henry planned on making a pie.

That presence was still there. Bearing over him. He didn't know if he was just being paranoid or hopeful or what. Regardless-he went behind his bar, took up his shotgun, and returned shortly after.

And when he did he froze. Because there he was, sitting on the counter. Eating one of the apples. At first the shock was enough to make his jump and aim right at him-not that it bothered this man to have a gun trained on him.

"Wilbur..." Henry didn't know what he felt exactly when he saw him, but suffice to say he was overwhelmed. He lowered his shotgun.

"Hey there, Dove. Ya miss me-"

"I accept."

"Whoa now-at least let me do the pitch!"

"You already did that, remember? And I accept, on one condition."

Wilbur's brow cocked, "Who said you could make conditions?"

"I did. It's an easy thing, really." He came closer, just as Wilbur hopped down from the counter. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, sliding it over to himself. "Every promise you make to me, you have to keep. And, we seal the deal with a drink."

"You trying to butter me up with booze and apples?"

"The apples are a coincidence."

"A n d you're making demands of me? On top of pulling a g u n on me?.... You know, I think this might be the start of a great partnership. Pass me a shot glass-" he saw Henry pop the lid off the bottle and take a drink with hardly a grimace. His heart would have skipped. If it still beat. "... damn, Dove."

"So, we got a deal or what?"

"First of all, my line." Wilbur grabs the bottle from him, fingers lingering a few seconds too long. "Second, you bet your sweet ass."

They drank together. And thus started their partnership.

[sylvie-writes]

Loopy

Request: can you write something where the reader calls steve "stevie" for the first time during some random cute moment and he's just like, really flustered and cute about it -anon

Thanks for the request hon! Hope you like it!

Warnings: any inaccuracies and grammar mistakes (it’s midnight for me once again)

Indulging.

It could be a sin.

And here you were indulging in a nice buttery bag of fresh popcorn. Tony had recently invested in a vintage popcorn machine and the whole team couldn’t get enough of the new fad item.

Repeatedly you popped the delicious treat in your mouth, savoring every salty bite. Think of it as a reward! The whole team, including you, had gotten back from a night mission that left you feeling sleep deprived. So instead of sleeping like most of the team, you stayed up with Wanda making popcorn and binging the Hunger Games. She had never seen any of the movies before and you figured what better time than at the ungodly hour of 3 am to start a twelve hour marathon.

Somehow Wanda was wide awake, maybe blame it on the cliffhanger of each movie keeping her so energized. You reached in the bucket and to your surprise, your hand had almost reached to the bottom.

Just shrugging, you crunched on the last few pieces of popcorn before suddenly yelping in pain.

Wanda immediately paused the movie and rushed to your side from her end of the couch.

“Oh my gosh! (y/n) are you ok?!”

The immense amount of pain was so strong you couldn’t even form words, just tears.

“I’m gonna go get Steve!” With that Wanda rushed down the hall and to the elevator, leaving your hand glued to the point of pain in your jaw.

Seconds later Steve came running in, only sweats on, he didn’t even care to throw on a shirt, too worried about your well being. If your tooth would stop palpitating, maybe you could be amazed by his carefree state, but at the moment you cared more about the tooth.

Steve crouched down in front of you, holding your face in his hands, while Wanda went to go turn on the lights. It was 7 am and no one cared at this point if the team could hear or not.

“Sweetheart, I need you to let me see what’s wrong.”

Reluctantly, you removed your hand and he patted your thigh reassuringly before placing his hand back to its original place on your face. Gently prying your mouth open, Steve looked around the best he could in the morning lighting. In a matter of minutes, Steve saw your back right molar cracked.

“Oh honey, your molar is cracked.”

A sound of distress came from you and Steve laughed, earning a smack from Wanda.

She went to go get you an ice pack while Steve helped you up from the couch to take you back to bed. Wanda handed you the pack of ice that was more valuable than your life at the moment. In appreciation, you hugged her before she continued her movie marathon.

It was almost impossible to sleep the remaining three hours. You tossed and turned in an attempt to calm your nervousness. Steve was out like a light, the poor baby was so worn out from the day's event.

That very morning, Steve immediately got out from the bed and made an emergency appointment with your dentist.

“Ok babe, your appointment is at 10:30, you better get going.” He sat on the edge of your bed brushing your hair to reveal your baggy eyes. A frown rolled onto his face and he kissed a side of your cheekbone.

The clock read 9:00 am, meaning you best get up now or suffer in pain, you could always sleep later. Right?

Due to Steve’s military upbringing and his punctuality, you were there exactly at 10:30 am. The office was practically empty except for the receptionist and the tv playing in the corner. It couldn’t be that bad? Just a filling, that was all you were hoping for, but nope!

“Ms. (y/l/n) your right mandibular 2nd molar is split into two separate parts. You’ll need an extraction” The doctor looked at your face of fear as your eyes grew wide.

The doctor went on giving you all the details and pros and cons. He mentioned it needed to be done now so the crack wouldn’t further. You were put in a position to basically be forced to agree.

“Doll, it’s gonna be fine.” Steve kissed your forehead before the dental assistant ushered him to the waiting room.

Your breathing and heart increased tenfold as they put the mask on your face, pushing nitrous oxide into your body, finally causing your body to calm.

While under anesthesia you had no sense of time whatsoever, you could barely even remember when you fell into the dark void of sleep.

It must’ve been an hour that passed before you woke up to the dental assistant giving you some precautions and telling you to take it easy before she left. The anesthetics made it impossible to focus on what she was saying. Your head was spinning and you tried your best to act normal. Mission Failed.

Steve walked in after speaking with the doctor who was giving him the numerous amount of pain medicine prescriptions. You could blame it on the medicine, but his smile seemed so bright. Honestly, it felt like you were hungover.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?” Steve stroked your face, well actually the jaw wrap around your head. He felt absolute pity for you. One minute you were enjoying your precious popcorn and then the next it cracked your tooth.

You just giggled at his touch, slightly tossing around in the chair. Steve looked completely baffled, after all he had never been around anyone under the influence of nitrous oxide. Back in his day, you were wide awake probably screaming internally to yourself the question of why you were there in the first place.

“Hiya Stevie! Oh! You’re gorgeous!”

Giggles once again spewed from your mouth as you turned to look at the blonde who was blushing madly. You had only been dating for a month by now and of course there were pet names, but never Stevie. Naturally, Steve’s reaction was to be embarrassed, but that didn’t mean that he thought it wasn’t cute.

“Don’t you get all shy on me now, Cutie!” Your hands went to his face to smoosh his cheeks and lips together, creating a duck face.

“Hon, I think you should get some rest now, c’mon.” Steve tried to help you up from the chair since the doctor had already discharged you.

“Stevie! Just like Stevia the sweetner!” In a sing-songy voice, you garbled out the words.

Let’s just say after many attempts, Steve finally just wrapped his arms around your waist. It was hilarious! You tried to kiss his face the whole way, and just ended up laughing endlessly, all while high on the laughing gas. If he weren’t so busy caring for you, Steve would have loved to record this and blackmail you later. Well, not blackmail per se, just payback after you recorded him one night, drunkenly blabbering about his love for you. Yeah, Thor let him have the Asgardian Mead…

Once Steve got you in the car and secure, you both went to go get the pain medicine. It was about a few minutes later, you were still talking, claiming you were fine, but mid sentence you just fell asleep causing Steve to snicker. At the stop light he snapped a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open, leaning on the seatbelt with your jaw wrapped. You’d absolutely murder him later, but that’s a whole other story.

The prescriptions were unexpectedly ready in time, making the drive back to the compound even shorter.

Steve himself was tired, yet he pushed through, carrying you from the car all the way to your shared room. You stirred and found yourself on his shoulder.

“Woah buddy boy! We haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

You slurred and laughed to yourself, falling back asleep, but not before catching a glimpse of Tony and Natasha, mocking the incident that just happened.

Carefully, Steve laid you from his shoulder and onto your bed.

He pecked your forehead before changing into his own pair of comfortable clothes, snuggling against your smaller body. He didn’t fear that he’d wake you up because at the current moment you were snoring louder than a middle aged man.

Many hours later, the sun was down, meaning it must’ve been dinner time. You groggily awoke from your sleep, trying to recollect your memories. As you looked around the room, Steve’s side was empty and you went to turn on the lamp on the nightstand only to be met with one thing…

The picture Steve had taken of you in the car with a note which read; “Dinner will be ready soon, doll.” A small winky face beside the ending. That sneaky son of a biscuit knew exactly what he was doing!

You just picked up the picture and burst into a fit of laughter.

Okay so maybe you deserved it…

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Behind the Curtain - 7

| Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue |   

Updates are Sundays at 5pm PST! Next week is the end!!!

Characters: Jaebeom x You

Genre: Smut

Warning(s): Breath Play, Light Name Calling, Size kink? sort of not really

Word Count: 2,248

You were turning the final corner to your room when you slammed face first into a wall of a human. Im Jaebeom. 

“I’m sorry!” You said as you stood up and tried to catch your breath. “

My office.” He said as he walked past you, “NOW!!” 

Dealing with the situation inside of you would have to wait. It was time to face the fearsome leader.

He’s twice your size. Easily. He’s nearly a head taller than everyone but Yugyeom and is built with the shoulders of a linebacker. You fidget uncomfortably, wondering why your stomach insists on flipping like a gymnast at the Olympics. JB’s eyes settle on you, anger seething from them and for some reason you blush and quickly avert your gaze.

Jaebeom paces around the room while you just awkwardly stand there, waiting for whatever storm was about to come your way and his arms keep brushing yours as he paces. Whether it was accidental or not, it was sending shivers down your spine. He pushes a button on his desk and then finally stops to turn and face you.

“Did you know what was coming and not tell me?” He finally asked, his voice is loud in your ear, his head so close that you are occupying practically the same space in his large office. You have to fight the flush crawling up your neck having him this close. “The raid?” You ask innocently, “Why would I have known before you?” “That is the true question Y/N.” He paces again before pulling his face hairs away from yours, his eyes piercing your soul. “Why did you know before us? Are you involved?” “I didn’t know.” You said firmly, trying not to falter as your heartbeat began to race. He might seem soft to those who know him, but he isn’t the gang leader for nothing. “Ahhh…I thought we didn’t lie in this gang.” He said as he pulled back a little. “I’m not lying.” You try to convince him and a smirk overtakes his lips. “That’s impressive.” he says, taking a sip of the water you just now notice is on his desk. “You must practice a lot.” “Practice?” You asked, confused at the statement. “Yeah,” he says, slyly, “Practice keeping your life story straight, your lies straight, keeping us complacent with your nearly flawless work only to have it all come crashing down in the end.”

You were looking anywhere but him. If you make eye contact, you’ll die. Literally and metaphorically.

“Someone has to work hard to make a good girl out of you.”

His voice has dropped an octave with that comment. You feel it in your core, but have to remain calm and collected on the outside. Does that mean he is letting you live? That he has some kind of plan that will assure his victory?

“Sometimes you need direction to find your way back to where you belong, a heavy hand, maybe?” He asked as he began to come closer again. “Do you like it when someone’s strict with you? You seem to not tremble as much as I thought someone like you would.” “Someone like me?” You asked, swallowing harder than you meant to.

“A traitor.” His hand comes up—hot, searing fingertips ghost against your jaw before carefully sliding back so that his thumb hooks under your chin and the rest of his fingers can put heavy, pressure on your throat. His fingers span the entire width of your neck easily and the pressure on your windpipe quickly hits you. He leans down until his face is directly in front of yours again. You can feel your knees start trembling when you realize that your life is literally in his hand and he knows your secret. “I wish you would look me in the eyes instead of looking away all the time.” He tilts your head up, almost forcing your eyes to lock on to his. You stare fiercely, emboldened by his dare. You look at his lush eyelashes, his moles above his eye, the stubble he missed on his chin, the way his skin creases at his eyes. Most of all, you look down at his mouth—pink, soft lips that he wets with the tip of his tongue before he speaks. If this was the last thing you ever saw, you wouldn’t be too mad.

Jaebeom quickly swapped places with you and pushed you up against his desk. His one hand reaching your waist to hold you still. He squeezes, a fingertip ever so gently gliding under the waistband of your pants. It drives all of your blood south, making your clit throb against the seam of your pants. In the craziness of earlier with Jackson, your underwear had disappeared.

You yelp as JB releases your throat for a moment, grabs you around the middle and completely lifts off the ground with a pair of arms as immovable as iron shackles. You squirm, nearly managing a kick where it hurts the most, but you are pulled back tight against a warm, solid body.

“I kinda like you scared,” he counters, squeezing you. “seeing the look in a traitor’s eyes before death always gives me a rush.

“I’m not a trait-“

His hand is around your throat again in an instant. It makes your whole body dizzy, it makes you feel vulnerable as hell and you can’t help but want to melt into the arms of the man who is about to kill you. The weirdest thing is that you can breathe easily—his fingers only squeeze on the sides, effectively cutting off the blood flow to your brain, instead of your windpipe. He is trying to weaken you for information instead of just outright kill you and you realize just how skilled with his hands this man is. The effect is like a live wire to your cunt.

“Why is it you only listen when you have to be manhandled into it?”

He sets you down on your feet again and you gasp for air, the blood rushing back to your head. It sends a trickle up your spine.

His hand sneaks up your shirt to squeeze your breasts hard enough to make your whimper. “Gonna fucking devour these tits. If you’re going to lie, you’re going to die, and I might as well have some fun first.“

“Jaebeom,” you accidentally moan, sounding pretty needy.

He pulls back, wiping his mouth where spit has practically dribbled onto his chin from his forceful talking. It should be gross, but instead you want to lick him clean.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

He pushes you down on the hard wood. “I always knew you were a little slut,” he mutters, undoing his belt. “Christ, the things I’ve thought about doing to you— and yet you went to everyone else but me for relief over the last few days.“ You watch his zipper with a concentration usually reserved for combat.

His cock springs out, hard and heavy under its own weight. It’s nearly as thick as your wrist.

“Fuck,” you whisper. It’s so much better than anyone else in the gang you had seen. You knew It was your last fuck and you couldn’t be happier it was with this dick.

“You’re going to suck me off until I come in that pretty little throat, right? You have to swallow, okay? Obey one last order before it’s time to go.”

You nod, entranced by the throbbing tip, where he’s leaking pearled drops of pre-cum.

You lean forward and lick the flat of your tongue up his shaft to taste him.

Immediately, he grabs a fistful of your hair, which normally you would break someone’s finger for, but you kind of like being held like this. It just shows his dominance and proves that no matter what, you can’t get away.

Your open your mouth and ease the entire head in as far as you comfortably can on the first try, but when you gag yourself a little, he makes sure to force himself in more, if only a notch deeper.

His cock suddenly jerks to draw your attention, tightening up a bit, as if trying to get harder than he already is. He begins moving your head back and forth and your jaw is already edging on its way to soreness, but somehow feeling the tip hit the back of your tongue, tasting each time more pre-come leaks out of him, feels good.

His breath becomes more labored as you suck on him more. You learned you love the way his chest heaves, the fabric of his shirt stretching across his pectoral muscles. If only you really were on his side, you both would make a great power couple both in and out of the bedroom.

One of his feet slide forward, settling between your thighs. “Good girls get to grind their pussy on my boot while they suck cock,” he growls. “I’m not even that cruel to deny someone release before their death.”

You moan around his length when your clit meets the friction of the shoe through your too thick pants. You roughly hump his leg and leave a clear puddle of evidence. Would he smell it tomorrow, your pussy on his clothes, and think of you on your knees? Crying with a cock between your lips? Would the raid happen as planned and he won’t even make it to tomorrow?

Suddenly his hips find the will to move urgently. His cock fills your throat up enough that you can’t breathe, the hand on the back of your head presses you further into the stretch, and you feel his cock push forward into your gag reflex.

You feel tears leak out of your eyes. It feels like you have been caught in a perpetual choke.

“Good girl,” he groans out. “Swallow. I want to feel it.”

Your mouth quivers. He seems too in control to come. That seems to be the theme with Im Jaebeom though, In control until the last moment.

He groans loudly, hips stuttering. “Feels so fucking good. Knew you could take the whole thing, my messy, drooling slut.”

He slides out and you launch into a coughing fit, doubling over. He gives you a second to catch your breath before tugging at your scalp again, pulling you back up on your knees. “I.. can’t.. take it, please, fucking do it already ...” you begged, not knowing at this point if you wanted him to just fuck you or kill you already. “Do what? “ he said coyly, as he slid your pants down and moved you up onto the desk, pushing his still hard tip slightly into your folds. “Kill you? No. you are too valuable for that. I need more details before you can have this suffering end. I know you aren’t on our side and that your ‘mother’ who you write to is actually your handler. I’m smarter than you clearly give me credit for.” With that, he lined himself up and quickly thrust himself into you. You couldn’t contain your loud gasp as his cock filled you up so quickly. The stretch was painfully blissful. Jaebeom began to pound into you, keeping up a consistent rhythm, hard and quick. He was going to fuck you silly so that he could get all of the information he needed. You were starting to lose focus, but you had to stay coherent. He slowed down as he felt himself come close to climaxing, his breathing becoming heavy again. “Tell me when the raid is.” He said as he slowed his pace, stopping your pleasure in its tracks. “No,” you panted, trying to keep your cool. His hands found your neck this time, cutting off airflow. “Tell. Me. Now.” His teeth were clenched and he was clearly ready for this game to be over. You shook your head as best you could. The lack of airflow and fullness of his cock inside of you was bringing you to your climax without him needing to move at all. You knew you wouldn’t last too much longer. You might even black out first. “TELL ME!!!” he screamed as he grabbed your neck tighter. Your orgasm hit you hard with his rush of anger and much to his surprise, the way you clenched around him caused his focus to slip and an orgasm hit him harder than he thought it could. He grip tightened again as he came, and before you could black out and accept your fate, the door to the office was kicked in and the special forces were there to save you. Jaebeom let go of you out of surprise and you fell to the ground coughing. The agency made it in the nick of time. “Who?” Is all you were asked by the lead; you recognized the voice as your former partner. “I’m glad you got my message to move up the raid. A second later and I would’ve been a goner.” You barely got the words out your throat was so sore.

“We can talk about that later. Who?” He asked again. “Mark, Bam Bam, Yugyeom.” You said, rubbing your neck to rid the feeling of JB’s hand trying to force the life out of you, still working on catching your breath. “What does that mean?” JB asked angrily as two men ran forward and restrained him. “Mark,” you stood up, “Bam Bam,” you fixed your pants, “and Yugyeom.” You took a gun from your former partner put it right between Jaebeom’s eyes. You heard the agency spread the word on who to save while you quickly removed the safety from the weapon. “I’m glad I was able to let you cum one last time before the end.” You smirked. “I’m not even that cruel to deny someone release before their death.”

You pulled the trigger.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hello My Lovelies!!

So that was the last smut chapter!!! What did you think??

Were you surprised on who was light or dark?

Let me know!!! Epilogue is coming next week.

Until Next Time,

~LoLo

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 1

Prompt: Mind Control @febuwhump

read on ao3

A Magnet for Trouble

"This," Anakin kicks at a ball of dust, causing the particles to go flying everywhere. "blows,"

His Master coughs, and Anakin looks up to see he has kicked the dust directly into the face of Obi-Wan. He supposes he earned the disapproving scowl this time.

"Not every mission is going to be exciting, Padawan. Sometimes we receive tasks that are a little more on the mundane side."

Anakin examines his Master's face as he continues to brush dust out of his bearded face. Though he has the typical Obi-Wan Kenobi stoicism, Anakin has known him long enough to see that he too isn't exactly pleased about their task.

Some random Outer Rim planet claimed to have found some ancient Jedi artifact, so the council sent them to go fetch it. Literally, anyone could have done this, but they decided to send a Jedi knight? Master Nu would probably love this kind of thing, but Master Obi-Wan wouldn't let him suggest that to Master Windu.

So now they're searching through this dusty old house that smells like bantha poodoo and mildew because the local officials were too afraid to touch it. Apparently even too scared to get close enough to the artifact to get a decent holo. From the dark image, it looked like a deactivated Holocron, so Anakin isn't sure what all the fuss it about.

"Why would the Jedi leave something valuable in this kind of place?" he asks, crinkling his nose at a pile of something in the corner that seems to be a source of the horrible smell.

"This house is old, Anakin. I suspect long ago it was quite elegant and beautiful. During the Great Peace, Jedi Masters often opted to retire in their home worlds or places they liked. It is entirely possible this was the residence of a Jedi Master."

"I thought Jedi didn't like material things, though. This place is huge!" They'd spent the last hour or two making their way carefully through the three-story winding home.

Obi-Wan chuckles. "We are taught not to keep material things, but that does not mean some Jedi don't like them anyway. I'm sure you and that desk of projects you have can relate."

"Those are practical, Master."

"A bolt slingshot is practical?"

Anakin looks away from the wry gaze of his Master. He may or may not have broken a mug or two with that slingshot, but it was a prototype.

They go into the next room. It's the largest bedroom by far, with a canopied bed and large heavy furniture in various places. White sheets haphazardly cover the tables and paintings.

"Surprise, surprise. Another dusty bedroom." Anakin sighs, tugging down one of the sheets to look at the painting. In the dark, it is difficult to see, but he can tell it's a portrait of a woman.

"This is the main bedroom. Perhaps our artifact is somewhere in here."

"You'd think they'd tell us where they found it."

"I suspect they forgot which room it was."

Understandable, I suppose. There are literally over twenty different bedrooms that all look similar. While Master Obi-Wan looks through the drawers of the bedroom, Anakin continues to take interest in the painting. He pulls his lightsaber out, igniting it to get a better source of light.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asks, his back still turned to him.

"Need more light." He waves the lightsaber close enough to the painting to see the face of the woman. Intense golden eyes stare back at him, almost like they are locking him into a gaze. He is entranced by her dark shiny curls that cascade down her shoulders and seem to fade into the elegant dark robes she is wearing. His eyes settle at the necklace that hangs from her neck, its dark metal forming a teardrop shape with a red gem in the center.

The woman is beautiful. Scarily beautiful. Were her eyes brown she might look a little bit like Padmé, or at least how Anakin remembers her. It's been nearly eight years since he's seen her, and he misses her sweet smile dearly.

"Anakin, what have I told you about gawking?" Obi-Wan teases, tugging at his padawan braid as he passes.

"I'm not-- oh nevermind," he groans, pulling his braid back in front of his shoulder.

"I'll check the closet, keep looking here."

"Yes, Master." He lowers his saber, about to turn it off when something catches his eye. The glow of his saber shows a space at the base of the wall. Anakin crouches down, placing his hand at the baseboard, and indeed feels a bit of a draft coming from underneath.

Interesting. He puts his saber away and stands, running his hands along the sides of the painting. To his excitement, he finds a seam in the wall, hidden well by the frame. He grins and reaches out with the Force. If this is the home of a Jedi, they undoubtedly would have a secret door that is Force activated! Maybe I can figure out how to put this in my room...

The section of the wall shutters and then slides backward, revealing a darkened room.

"Oh wizard," Anakin mutters to himself, pulling his saber out. He is about to walk into the room when he turns, looking to see if Obi-Wan is anywhere near. He probably should tell his master what he found, but maybe checking it out first would be a good idea. He would hate to take him away from his search for a dead-end...

He will call for him if he finds something. If this is where the artifact is, then he can say he found it all by himself!

Anakin steps into the room, using his lightsaber to light his path. It is larger than he expected, just a desk in the far corner and a bookshelf that is now empty and covered in cobwebs. He walks right up to the desk, giddiness running through him as he spots a cube in the center of the table. He picks it up, turning it around in his hands to examine it.

The holo they gave was dark, but this seems to be the artifact! It is a dark metalloid material with markings that do look like a Holocron, but it doesn't glow blue as the ones he has seen. In fact... it doesn't seem to be a Holocron at all. If it is a Jedi thing, maybe it too responds to the Force? He closes his eyes, trying to get some sort of signature from the object, but it is like it is just out of reach for him.

Strange. He decides to show Obi-Wan and walks out of the secret room. In the light of the main room, now Anakin can see there is a latch. Oh duh, it's a box!

"Hey Master, come look at this," he calls, as he undoes the latch.

"One moment, Anakin."

With the latch open, Anakin tugs at both ends, and the cube opens at the center, sending something from within rattling out and onto the floor under the bed. He cringes, hoping he didn't break whatever it is. He crouches down, feeling around the dusty floor until his hands lie on something cool and metalloid. He draws it out, his eyes widening when he realizes it's a necklace.

The necklace from the portrait. Its teardrop design is smooth in his hand as he examines it. Somehow, as old as it must be, it isn't tarnished.

Skywalker.

He looks over his shoulder, but there is no one there. Anakin could have sworn he heard his...

Skywalker, come to me.

He looks the other way. The voice is quiet, indistinguishable of gender though it is definitely speaking basic. When it whispers his name once more he looks down at the necklace, suddenly realizing that the voice is not coming from around him, but from it.

He flips it over, revealing the beautiful red stone. It shimmers as though it is its own light source, entrancing Anakin in its kaleidoscope of colors. He runs his thumb from the side of the necklace to the stone to feel the smooth-looking gem.

The moment he touches it, he is struck with an icy chill that runs from his fingertips down to his toes. Terror fills the Jedi Padawan, and he staggers backward, his mind telling him to drop it but his body not listening. He clenches the necklace in his freezing hands, and the world around him tunnels.

Obi-Wan is going to be so mad at me...

And then there is only darkness.

_______

A clatter and a thump resonate from the other room. Obi-Wan sighs. What has he done this time? He found nothing in the closet so he heads back to see what his padawan has gotten into this time. While he had hoped Anakin would outgrow his propensity to attract trouble, it seems the sixteen-year-old is still well endowed in finding mayhem.

"Anakin, if you managed to break something--" he trails off as a chill runs up his spine. A warning in the Force. Obi-Wan puts a hand on his lightsaber and reaches out through their bond.

On the other end, he feels nothing but static.

"Anakin!" he calls, now running into the bedroom. He skids to a stop at the sight of one of the walls caved in, an open box lying on the floor, and Anakin's body slumped to the side. Though he still senses danger, he doesn't see anything that could be causing it. He drops to his knees beside his padawan, rolling him so his head lies atop Obi-Wan's legs. He lays a hand on Anakin's cheek and pulls away in horror at how cold he is. "Anakin, wake up!" he orders, shaking him firmly.

Obi-Wan gets a sudden feeling like he's been here before. For a split second, his teenage padawan becomes his graying Master lying motionless in his arms on Naboo. Panic grips him, and he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. As quickly as he sees it, it is gone.

Freezing fingers enclose around his wrist and Obi-Wan's eyes snap open to see Anakin staring back at him, but there is something off about him. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he has time to process what is happening his body is being flung across the room with tremendous force. His back slams into the wall and he sags to the ground, vision spotting with black dots.

Anakin stands now with his lightsaber in hand, and Obi-Wan realizes what is wrong with his padawan is that his bright blue eyes now shine a dusty gold.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan says carefully as he pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't dare reach for his own lightsaber. "What happened?"

"I am no padawan," he says back, his ashen face devoid of any emotion. Though it is Anakin's voice it isn't Anakin. Obi-Wan has never heard him speak in such an inflection.

"Then do tell me who I am speaking to."

"Anakin Skywalker."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

"I am Anakin Skywalker, and you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, will die by my hand."

Anakin raises his saber, not in his usual starting position but in Form II-- Count Dooku's preferred form for its elegance and dueling superiority. Anakin has never once taken interest in the fluidity and discipline it takes to learn Makashi.

Obi-Wan still doesn't grab for his own weapon. Anakin lets out a guttural yelp and darts forward, jabbing his lightsaber aggressively. Obi-Wan twists out of the way much to the displeasure of whatever is controlling Anakin.

"Draw your weapon, coward," he hisses.

"What have you done to him?"

Anakin's face twists into a sinister smile that Obi-Wan has a feeling will likely give him nightmares in the weeks to come. "He is my vessel. A strong one, at that, for an apprentice. I have inserted my Life Force into him, and now we are one."

The boy lunges at him again, and Obi-Wan is able to evade him once again, but this time his shoulder is grazed by the tip of the lightsaber. He bites his lip at the red-hot pain igniting his upper body but swallows it back.

"So what is the plan then? What is your purpose?"

"Does there need be a purpose besides the chance to walk the galaxy once again?"

He stares at the boy, recognizing the tell-tale shadowing of him about to strike once again. If whatever is occupying his padawan is telling the truth, then Obi-Wan knows what he must do. He finally draws his lightsaber grimly, raising it above his head parallel to the floor in the opening move of Soresu. He points in Anakin's direction.

"You will not take over the soul of a boy for your selfish purposes," he says, and then Anakin's saber is crashing against his.

Obi-Wan has sparred with Anakin so many times throughout their training. The boy is a natural with a lightsaber, and one of the best padawan fighters among his age mates. He is quick and decisive, pouring every ounce of his endless supply of energy into each brutal strike. Even with another controlling his mind, his body still moves like Anakin. Thankfully, this is a feat Obi-Wan can easily accomplish. He blocks every strike, knowing exactly what he is planning before Anakin even knows it. Every one of his jabs is met with Obi-Wan's lightsaber waiting patiently for him to catch up. With every crackle of their blades striking another, he can see the fire in Anakin's eyes grow. His golden eyes are not unlike the piercing yellow of Darth Maul, filled with hatred and anger.

Through his anger and fatigue and many minutes of combat, Anakin becomes more and more sloppy. Obi-Wan takes this opportunity to lash out with a rapid kick to the center of his chest. He goes staggering backward in surprise, and Obi-Wan is quick to sweep his legs and cause him to go tumbling to the ground.

"I see you are not used to the awkward body of a teenager," Obi-Wan says, kicking the lightsaber out of Anakin's hand and using the Force to pin him to the ground. He thrashes against the hold, but Obi-Wan is tapping deep into his Force abilities to hold him still. He can already feel the tremendous headache blossoming in his temples.

"You know you will have to kill him to stop me," The thing says lowly. "There is no other way."

"No," Obi-Wan shakes his head. "There is always another way."

"The boy is kin to the darkness. It wraps around him and he accepts it with open arms," he grins. "Anakin Skywalker is a natural in the dark side, and so you must kill him to free him."

Obi-Wan kneels down beside the restrained boy, placing a hand on his forehead despite his attempts to pull away. He looks Anakin-who-is-not-really-Anakin in the eyes, reaching out once again through their bond.

Anakin. He calls against the distant sliver of his padawan's Force presence. Come back to me, my padawan. You are stronger than it is. Fight against it. Take hold of the light.

A girthy cackle. "You think the boy can fight me? A Master of the ancient Sith arts?"

Obi-Wan smiles. Through their bond, he hears the quiet voice of his padawan. Distant, but determined.

"And you think you can silence my padawan? I assure you, I have tried. Many times."

The darkness that taints the Force suddenly begins to flicker, and the Sith's prideful face flickers with sudden worry. "This is-- this is impossible," it says.

Master! Obi-Wan hears Anakin saying with great distress, and he lays his hands on either of his cheeks.

Anakin I am here! I am with you, keep trying! Obi-Wan is growing wearier and wearier by the moment trying to keep Anakin still.

"I will not be bested!" the Sith grunts and Obi-Wan is thrown back. He manages to stay on his feet, but his hold finally slips. The bedroom erupts in a whirlwind of raw power. Loose objects and a cloud of dust fly around at terminal velocity. Obi-Wan squints through the dust storm and sees Anakin now on his feet, his saber back in his hand and ignited in front of him. His eyes stare wildly at the blade as he rotates it in his hand before looking back up at Obi-Wan with a sinister look. "Not by you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and certainly not by a padawan."

Obi-Wan's eyes widen, "No!" he yells, lunging forward as Anakin's wrist turns to point the tip of his blade toward his own heart. Naboo flashes before him once again, and Obi-Wan is filled with a burst of energy from the Force.

He will not watch the Sith take another from him.

Obi-Wan flips through the air and manages to jam his blade between Anakin and his own lightsaber, deflecting it away from his chest and smashing his wrist in the wall. Anakin's cry of pain rings out as his shoulder dislocates from the force Obi-Wan uses. It makes him feel like his heart is tearing in two, but a dislocated shoulder is worlds better than a lightsaber through the heart. Anakin's lightsaber drops and Obi-Wan summons it to his hand with the Force. Now he is restrained once again, this time physically rather than through the Force. He can feel the heave of his padawan's chest, and the feral thrashing of his body.

Obi-Wan blankets himself with the Force, allowing it to take control of his strength. He reaches through their bond once more, pushing past the barriers the Sith had placed. To his relief, he finds Anakin's Force presence shining brightly, just lost.

I am here, padawan. Come back to me.

__________

Anakin opens his eyes and immediately closes them. His head hurts.

As his grogginess begins to clear, a few questions prod at him. Why does my head hurt? Why am I on the floor? Where is Obi-Wan?

An exacerbated exhale beside him makes him realize maybe the answer to his last question is easily answered. Anakin rolls to his side, squinting through the pounding headache at his temples. Obi-Wan lies on his back next to him, head flopped to the side so Anakin can clearly see his face. Shock pangs through him and he ignores the pain and makes himself sit up.

Bad idea. His shoulder now erupts in shooting pain, and he looks down to see it is not in the correct position. He blinks back some tears that have formed and tries to focus on his master.

Blood drips down from Obi-Wan's nose, coloring the mustache of his beard a dark crimson. He spots a char mark across his left shoulder-- from a lightsaber?-- and dark circles so dark they look like two black eyes..

"Master!" Anakin yells, grabbing him by the lapels of his robes.

He doesn't remember what happened. How they ended up unconscious in the bedroom-- which looks war-torn with kicked up dust and broken objects. A glint of metalloid catches his eye and he picks up his own lightsaber that lies in Obi-Wan's other hand. His stomach drops. What could make Obi-Wan need to dual-wield? He isn't sure he's ever actually seen Obi-Wan fight with two sabers.

Anakin reaches out through their training bond, and his master winces in his sleep. He immediately withdraws, eyes wide. Their bond is strained. Obi-Wan's shields are simultaneously locked tight and clearly on the brink of collapse. Force exhaustion.

His master isn't the only one suffering from it, either. Anakin slumps himself forward to lay on Obi-Wan's chest, careful of his dislocated shoulder. He matches his master's even breaths to calm himself down and ease his own pain. He is nearly falling asleep when he feels movement below him and fingers carefully rifle through his hair.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says stiffly. "Why are you on top of me?"

He perks up, turning around with glee at the sound of his Master's voice.

"Have a nice nap, Master?" he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Obi-Wan slowly pushes himself to a sitting position. He leans his head back against the wall. "Oh, a lovely one," he says dryly. Then his expression shifts to worry. "What do you remember, Anakin?"

Question of the year. "I remember finding the secret room. And opening a box that had a necklace in it. And then... I woke up here."

"Nothing else?"

He takes a slow, deep breath. "I kind of remember hearing you telling me to come back, or something," his eyes flicker up to meet Master Obi-Wan's. "Did I pass out? Were we attacked?"

The Jedi Knight stares at him for a long moment-- so long it begins to feel uncomfortable. Anakin can tell he is not saying something important, or at least debating whether or not to actually say it.

"It seems your snooping got you into trouble again, my padawan. That necklace... held the Force presence of an ancient Sith who managed to... control you for a small while. I suspect the request was forged to lure Jedi here."

Anakin blinks with confusion. He looks at the lightsaber mark on Obi-Wan's shoulder and the pieces start to fall together.

"We fought... I did this... and I hurt you," he says, shame filling him.

"To be fair," Obi-Wan shrugs. "I accidentally injured your shoulder so don't feel bad about something you didn't consciously do."

Still, Anakin bows his head and stares at the floor. He messed up and got them both hurt in the process. Probably lost the artifact as well. When will I stop being such a screw-up?

A finger taps at his chin, and Anakin looks up to see Obi-Wan looking at him with a comforting gaze. There is no anger or disappointment in his face or the Force that flows between them. "This was not your fault, Anakin. In fact, you did amazingly. You were the one who stopped the Sith, forced it from your body and sent it back into the Force where it cannot hurt anyone anymore. You were brave and strong and didn't give up."

Anakin smiles, the negative feelings melting away easily now. Obi-Wan slowly pulls himself to his feet and reaches his hand out to help Anakin up as well.

"Come, padawan. I've had quite enough of this mission."

They begin to stagger toward the door. Anakin looks over at the painting and feels his heart skip a beat. The woman is gone now, leaving only the simple background on the canvas. In the back of his mind, he can hear her now. Feel the darkness surround you, Skywalker. Embrace it. Use it. Fuel your power and extinguish the light.

But more clearly, he can hear Obi-Wan. You are stronger than it is. Fight against it. Take hold of the light.

Their commands echo through his mind, the Sith one becoming quieter and quieter until it is gone completely. Relief finally washes through him as the darkness fades away.

They walk back through the dusty halls, slowly and leaning on one another. Anakin remembers their conversation as they walked these corridors earlier and smiles.

"I suppose this wasn't a boring mission after all,"

Obi-Wan sighs. "I should really stop wishing for mundane missions. There seems to be no such thing. We could be farming and you would find a way to attract trouble."