#when I realised this I asked if he was actually aware of the rubbish or if he just wanted to get me out of his life as quickly as possible

[dicketysplit]

i have sorted through the binbags of my life that my ex shoved together as quickly as he could, and identified things that I actually wanted to pack away vs things that were literal rubbish

[aphroditeslover11]

A Night At The Opera

More requests are on their way, I seem to have come down with something again so everything is just taking a while.

Anyway, some preferences inspired by my trip yesterday of what it would be like to go to the opera with a few of our boys. It’s fun alone, but I dare say it would be more entertaining with one of them!

Moodboard below is sourced from Pinterest photos.

Robert Fischer:

I feel like if he was going to an opera it would usually be for something to do with business, he would probably be more interested in networking than the music. After a while of you being together he would ask you along to one of these events, probably to the MET opera in New York.

He would be surprised when you were actually excited about going, waving the libretto in front of him and trying to tell him everything that you had found out about the composer before you went.

He would make sure that you were treated like a princess all evening, being driven to the theatre with him in the back of a private limousine and being pandered to all evening with champagne in the private box that was booked for his party. He would go so far as banning any business talk during the performance so that you could watch undisturbed.

He loved to watch how your face lit up as the singers dived from aria to aria, even crying in parts. He was aware of what was going on on stage, but spent most of the evening watching you. At the end you would fly to your feet in a standing ovation, realising moments later that you were the only one in the box doing so, he would quickly stand up, joining you to stop you from feeling conspicuous. Of course, after the successful business man was up, the rest of the box followed in suit.

He would become a patron of the MET opera after this, telling you as a surprise on your birthday. He’d go to events with you as often as he could.

Tommy Shelby:

He would only ever go to an opera if it was absolutely necessary, most likely something to do with his new intelligence activities.

He’d be the most unenthusiastic audience member ever, probably saying that opera was a pile of rubbish. Even if he did happen to actually enjoy it he wouldn’t admit it, worried that it would impact his image.

If you asked him to go back with you he’d playfully tease you and tell you to take Alfie instead. He was more than a bit irritated when one day he received a phonecall saying that you had called his bluff, actually spending the evening at the Royal Opera House with Solomons!

Lenny Miller:

He’d take you to the opera at the Palais Garnier in Paris for his birthday. He was a relatively cultured person and had been a few times before, unlike you who were completely unfamiliar.

The idea came from when you had forced him to watch Pretty Woman one evening and had asked him what the opera was actually like. Hence, he had decided that for your first opera visit he was going to take you to see La Traviata.

He gave you the full treatment beforehand, even though it was his celebration. He made sure that you went shopping for a new dress and whatever else you might need. You used the opportunity whilst he was at work to buy his present as well, a new watch that he wore on the evening of the performance.

The evening was amazing, going out for dinner before heading to the theatre. You were in a private box, about two tiers up with an amazing view. Lenny managed to book it through a contact he had from the agency.

He was nervous that you wouldn’t share his enjoyment of the performance, but he could see it in your eyes how moved you were by the music. You were on top of the world when your drinks arrived at the interval, snuggling into his side for the second act. Pretty Woman had been right, there certainly was something romantic about the opera.

Oppie (pre Los-Alamos):

Every year his friends went on a trip to opera and every year they managed to bully him into going. It was no secret how much he despised it, always finding it too much for him and walking out after the first act.

This year he was finally planning on saying no, only then to find out that you (who he had developed a secret soft-spot for recently) were going along as well. He melted to butter when you asked him if he would go along and immediately agreed.

On the car journey there he would be in a foul mood, constantly reminding himself that it would be worth it though. He tried to focus on how you were pushed against him each time there was a bump in the road as a reminder of your presence.

As the orchestra played the first note he was filled with dread, knowing what he had just sentenced himself to. It turned out to be worth it though, as when things began to get uglier it was his hand that you reached for. He was sure that he was in.

This was the first time he managed to stay put for the entire performance.

[your-divine-ribs]

I’m With the Band Part 18

Words: 1.7k

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

"You shouldn't let him get to you Arabella."

The voice comes from behind me just as I locate Sam propping up the bar across the terrace and I turn to see Lucy standing there with a sweet but knowing smile.

"Who do you mean?" I ask, although it occurs to me that it's probably quite obvious, I'm just not sure how Lucy knows anything about my recent altercation with Van.

"Van of course!" She laughs, leaning in close like she's about to divulge a secret. "Gossip travels fast around here!"

"You're not kidding! I've literally just left him."

I let myself be steered across the decking to where Lucy's been sitting with Bob and Benji.

"Johnny wasn't best pleased with Van when he stepped out," she explains. "You know you maybe ought to be careful there."

"And why's that?"

I take a seat opposite Lucy, realising with embarrassment that I still have my underwear tucked away in my hand. I quickly and sneakily shove them down between a gap in the cushions, hoping Lucy doesn't notice, but I don't need to worry. She's too busy glancing at Bob and Benji who appear to be deep in conversation. Then she turns back to me with that knowing smile still evident.

"Van doesn't like sharing, you know. He makes out he's not the jealous type but he is."

I'm not even Van's for him to be concerned about 'sharing' me. Irritation flares in me at her words, but it's swiftly overshadowed by a sense of satisfaction as it sinks in just how much he obviously wants me to be his, and his alone.

I sit back in my seat, aware a smug grin has found its way on to my lips and not bothering to try and hide it. "Maybe it's about time Van didn't get his own way for once. A bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone did it?"

I assume Lucy will react negatively, try and talk me around, tell me that it isn't fair to be playing games, but to my surprise she leans forward even further in her seat, her eyes sparkling with conspiratorial mischief.

"It's Leos."

This means nothing to me. "Huh? What do you mean?"

She giggles, loud enough for Bob to break away from his conversation and look over.

"Leos," she repeats. "I don't think I've ever met a more typical Leo than Van!"

"You're not going on about that astrology crap again are you?" Bob chips in with a laugh, then he looks at me. "Don't listen to her Arabella, it's a complete load of rubbish!"

"Hey!" Lucy exclaims, eyes wide as Bob raises his eyebrows at me pointedly. "It's not rubbish at all. It can tell you a lot about a person if you must know. What they like, what they don't like, what makes them tick... what winds them up..."

She pointedly ignores Bob who shakes his head while tutting playfully, and then he's turning back to continue his conversation with Benji. I'd normally be inclined to share Bob's views on fanciful zodiac insights, but the idea of finding out potential ammunition to use against Van, no matter what the source, intrigues me. And it isn't just how the stars are aligned. As Bob's girlfriend, Lucy spends a lot of time with the band which means that she knows Van and she knows him well. Not the exasperatingly annoying 12 year old boy who I'm familiar with who used to tease me relentlessly. She knows the 22 year old man that he's become who both intrigues and frustrates me in equal measures.

"Van has a very interesting natal chart actually," she tells me, excitement clear on her face as she realises that she has my full attention. "Of course it goes a lot deeper than just the simple sun sign too. There's also a person's moon sign which shows their emotional side and the nature of their relationships with others. Then their ascending sign..."

"Hold on... you lost me at moon! Back up!" I interrupt her, holding up a hand, surreptitiously glancing around to check on Sam's location again. I'm intrigued by Lucy's theories but I don't want to fall into the trap of getting drawn into a lengthy discussion which means that the party will be over and I'll be left with no other option than Van at the end of the night. Although I'm pretty sure that would delight him I have my sights set elsewhere.

"Just skip all the moon and stars mumbo-jumbo and tell me about Van! Come on... all the juicy stuff. What winds him up? What's his weaknesses? What really pisses him off?"

Lucy laughs. "Most people want to know the good stuff, like are they compatible?"

I smirk. "I don't need a star chart to tell me about compatibility. It's kinda obvious. You either click with someone or you don't. And guys just aren't that deep. They like to think they come across that way but they can't hide it. 90% of their decisions are made with their dicks at the end of the day!"

Lucy giggles again, a tinkling sound, her mouth flying up to her hand like I've just said something scandalous. I smile back, realising that I'm enjoying myself, thinking how different she is than my friends back home. Discussions about boys with them focus on wallet size and who's best to hook up with according to which Prada handbag they'll likely bestow upon you for hanging on their arm like some shiny accessory. Lucy doesn't seem to have that side to her, being concerned primarily with material things. She seems sweet and amiable, friendly enough that she's happy to sit and chat idly just for fun about the inane workings of the male mind. Something that I already consider myself an expert in, but additional research always comes in handy.

"Not all guys, they're definitely not all the same." She drops her voice lower, angling her body away from the boys. "Not my Bob anyway. It's never been like that with him. He never even pursued me, he was too shy. I did all the running!"

I raise an eyebrow skeptically, struggling to imagine being that hung up on a boy that I'd actively expend time and energy trying to snare them into committing to a long-term partnership. My efforts are usually only for temporary measures, and always for my own amusement.

"He does seem sweet... really sweet," I muse, looking beyond Lucy and catching Bob's eye for a second as he glances in my direction, his face looking a little flushed like he's caught my comment. He quickly looks away as I smile to myself. "Not like Van... he's too busy admiring himself to care too much about other people. And I bet he's a player..."

"You'd be surprised actually," she cuts in. "I mean, yeah... since the band started to get more popular he is starting to attract a lot of female attention, but I guess you've noticed that. Have you seen the fans? Some of them are shameless! Sneaking him their phone numbers, trying to get back to his hotel room..."

"And I bet he laps up all that attention."

I roll my eyes, imagining Van's smug face as a host of young female fans fawn over him.

"Of course he likes it, it's those Leo vibes, but he's got a lot of love to give too."

This makes me laugh, my thoughts flitting back to our steamy encounters. "Oh I'm sure he has. And I'm sure he just loves giving it freely!"

Lucy leans forward to place a hand on my knee, glowing with a wide smile. "Yeah he does... but only to the right girl!"

It doesn't take a genius to work out her insinuation. I play dumb though, enjoying hearing about the impression I've left on Van, the fact that despite his growing army of female fans he only seems to have eyes for me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on Arabella, he's mad about you! Anyone can see it. I was watching him earlier when you were dancing with Bondy and Sam and he couldn't take his eyes off you. Like I said earlier... your arrival in sleepy little Llandudno has caused quite a stir amongst the boys... but I guess you already knew that."

The smile stretches across my lips automatically, my head full of possibilities, the heady feeling of being desired flooding me. But it's all too easy with Van. Despite his teasing games earlier on in the evening he's practically offered himself up on a plate. And where's the fun in that? A flirtatious smile and a nod of my head and I know he'll come running, eager to please.

I let my eyes roam around the terrace, catching Johnny's as I do. He raises up a beer bottle, tipping it at me, a hopeful look on his face. I smile with enough sweetness to charm but not quite enough to entice him to come over. I know he won't be quite so easy to tempt as Van. He's made his feelings quite clear that he wants to get to know me better as a person before taking things further. I don't have time for that tonight, but with the tour coming up there'll be plenty of opportunities to steal away on the tour bus for quiet encounters away from Van, shared moments together where I can show him exactly what a temptress I really am.

As for tonight... well I've already decided where it's going to end. I carry on looking around the terrace, eventually finding Sam. I watch as he drains his glass and places it on the bar, leaning in to speak to Dean and then stepping away. I watch him as he looks around, his eyes scanning across the faces in the crowd like he's looking for someone.

Then they meet mine and to my surprise his gaze locks on. It's almost like he's found who he was looking for...

I smile at Sam and see a cheeky grin lighting up his face as he moves forwards, a thrill of excitement warming inside me.

The night's just getting started...

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

Mutually Beneficial Dalliance

Chapter Three: "Are you still jealous of some blood bags?"

He leans down and licks some blood that remained on my chest, before starting to lather me up. His hands were all over me, soaping every part of my body. I start to do the same to him. We clean all the blood from our skin and as we're slick and wet and clean, he pushes me against the tiles.

"Now, I would really love to devour you again," he sighs lustfully. "But I am very aware you need some sugar and at least a nap."

I open my mouth to tell him I'm fine but close it at the glare he gives me.

"Do not argue with me, little girl, I can hear your heart remember?" he shakes his head as he retrieves a towel.

He sits me back on the bench and kneels in front of me. He begins to dry my skin, from my feet, up my legs, to my thighs, up my torso and throat. He gets another dry towel and wraps my hair in it. He dries his own hair and body quickly before tying the towel around his waist. His hand takes mine and he leads me back to the bedroom, peeling back the covers and helping me into it. I feel my head spin a little.

"Sit there, I'll make you some tea." he disappears out of the room and I hear the kettle begin to boil and the clinking of mugs and teaspoons. I lean over and grab the television remote, flicking it on. I know better than to get up until I'm told now. I open up Netflix and Elijah enters with two steaming mugs.

"You always have the best tea." he says as he puts my cup down on my bedside table, and then goes and puts his tea on his side.

He enjoys the domesticity of our visits too, the "girlfriend package". We get drunk together, watch TV and films in bed and he loves to tease me on my modern tastes. He feeds from me, but makes sure to feed me supplements, high iron foods and lets me feed from him too.

He heads to my chest of drawers and opens one up, the drawer with my pyjamas. His hands rifle through quietly and chooses a red silk pair of shorts and matching cropped vest. He hands them to me and I put them on as he pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and slides into bed.

"What rubbish have you decided on enduring me to this evening?" he asks, as he picks up his mug. "Drink your tea."

I pick up my drink and take three big sips.

"I was actually going to choose The Darjeeling Limited." I respond, and take another drink at his stern look.

"Ah yes, I do enjoy Wes Anderson." he tells me. "I will fix you something to eat shortly, then you will go to sleep."

We watch the first fifteen minutes of the film together, then he wanders off to the kitchen and I'm left alone. I try not to dwell on the sheer ridiculousness of the situation I've found myself in. We'd been seeing each other for almost two years, he passes through every few months, spends the week and disappears again. The money is incredible, the sex is just insane and Elijah great to be around.

My train of thought ends when Elijah walks through the door with a tray of food. He places it on my lap. He'd fixed me a plate of scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, spinach and kale. There's a small glass of vitamins and supplements and a green tea. I didn't realise how hungry I was until I took a bit of the scrambled egg. I moan, he's an incredible cook.

I finish the plate quickly, take the supplements and drink the tea. He takes the tray away from me, spends some time cleaning up, when he comes back, he stays in the doorway. He has an odd look on his face.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I am going to need to feed, I am hungrier than I care to be." he replies, seemingly annoyed.

"Ok, come." I offer out my wrist.

"No, I have some blood bags in my suitcase-" he stops mid sentence as he sees my face. "Why are you pouting?"

I shrug, feeling silly now.

"Are you still jealous of some blood bags?" he laughs, at me, shaking his head.

[orionsangel86]

A bit of a moan under the cut...

It's funny to be in this position where I follow a ton of SPN blogs, and a ton of Good Omens blogs, and so I get a lot of interesting hot takes across my dash.

It's fine for people to be critical, but I do find criticism of GO from SPN fans kinda hilarious and hypocritical.

"the writing was like bad fanfiction"

You did actually watch Supernatural yes? Even season 4 had its terrible fanfiction moments *cue trauma memory of Sam Winchester explaining "w*ncest" to his brother and shudder*

"There was no plot at all and it was all pointless."

Hmmm... reminds me of seasons 12, 13, and 14 of SPN

"The relationship reveal at the end was so stupid and clearly a crack ship from tumblr"

Yeah I was also really surprised when Dean and Crowley hooked up in Season 10.

"Neil Gaiman was clearly bullied into making them canon by tumblr, he absolutely hated fans asking if Crowley and Aziraphale were gay and in love back before the first season came out"

And? Why is him changing his mind (if thats what happened) a bad thing? What exactly do you think was happening behind the scenes at Supernatural regarding Destiel?

"Even if Neil Gaiman DID change his mind and decide to make it romantic, its still disingenuous and he's lying to you about what he planned with Terry Pratchett"

Sure. He could be. Funny how sometimes at some point people may see the light regarding their characters and realise that the story works better if they are together - at least Neil Gaiman was able to follow through, unlike Bobo Berens and Andrew Dabb who had their vision shat on by the CW.

Maybe he is exaggerating about what exactly he and Terry plotted out. He's protective of Terry's memory but clearly also painfully aware of how rabid the fans are and has gone a bit overboard in reassuring them. How many lies have you been told by the creators of SPN? How many times have Jackles and Mollins lied to you? Queerbaited you? Mocked you? Have you ever heard of a little thing called growth?

If you are gonna be critical about GO and Neil Gaiman, by all means go ahead. But DO NOT then sit there in the same breath and say SPN was better, that SPN had your back, or sing SPNs praises in any way.

Both shows have good and bad moments. Both sets of creators have lied at times, and tried to do whats best for their fans at times. Both shows are filled to the fucking brim with fanservice - at least GO didn't mock and ridicule its fans by either portraying them all as sad loser men, obsessive stalkers, or teenage girls who are a bit too obsessed with the sappier moments to be taken seriously. The fandom inserts in GO were older, wiser, calmer, and rather badass lesbians actually. I thought that was pretty neat.

I'm not even a huge Neil Gaiman stan, find most of his asks cringe (and often wonder if he picks out the cringier ones specifically to toy with and mock the fandom) and def find some of his explanations surrounding the origins of the GO sequel contradictory and nonsensical. Whilst he is a great fantasy writer, he isn't the best at screenwriting imo. He is also rubbish at comedy and needs support on that always. It is very clear to me that he has absorbed some of the tumblr mentality in his later years, as this is apparant to me in both GO and the Sandman, and yet, as someone who rather loves the tumblr mentality, I'm all for it. I think he is maybe trying a bit TOO hard to appeal to the tumblr specific queer community which can be alienating for wider audiences (i say this as someone who considers herself very much part of the tumblr specific queer community), and I do sometimes wonder if there is something a little bit disengenuous on his side about that, because, well, how much can an older cishet white man ever really understand the overly millennial/Gen Z queer majority AFAB leaning tumblr space? I do think some people have really got to crawl out of Neil Gaiman's ass because he is not your God. He is just a guy.

But I also think a lot of the hate thrown his way is unnecessary. A lot of people's gripes about him seem to be complaints that he is too wrapped up in tumblr culture. Which is an ironic criticism to come from tumblr users. If you hated GOS2 that's totally fine. But if you hated it and then proudly proclaim that "Supernatural did it first" "Supernatural did it better" or just "Supernatural was the best and Good Omens will never be Supernatural". Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. Supernatural was heavily influenced BY Good Omens, and the Sandman. Supernatural was so braizen in its stealing ideas from GO and the Sandman that it even stole one of the main characters NAMES.

As a long time SPN fan, any SPN fans ever claiming Neil Gaiman stole ideas from SPN is a fucking embarassment to the rest of the SPN fandom. By all means criticise Gaiman's work to your hearts content, but at least criticise it correctly and leave the hypocrisy at the door.

[f1united]

Ensemble - Chapter Two: The Girl and The Gift

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Your Arthur Leclercs best friend. So why, after a random night in London, are you falling for his brother?

Chapter One: The Start

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and sex.

Word Count: 5.8k

Note: This chapter begins in London and is marked where it switches to Mykonos. There are then some flashbacks mixed in so just watch out for those. Let me know your thoughts, enjoy!

*****

Chapter Two: The Girl and The Gift

Not long after Pierre had joined your table, Charles emerged from the toilets. Pierre had waved his hands to inform him of his updated location as he sat in the empty seat, unknowingly signing himself up for a night full of girly gossip and drama. The evening was spent reminiscing on childhood memories and sharing stories. It wasn't until Nat checked her phone that you realised how late it was getting.

"We better get going," She announced as she checked her phone. "The last train is in half an hour." You lived just outside of London which meant that most nights out were cut short by trains unless you had booked a hotel. You hummed in agreement as you finished your drink watching as Pierre began to whisper in Lucy's ear. They'd been flirting all night so her next sentence didn't come as much of a surprise.

"I'm going to chill with Pierre for a bit, I'll find my own way home tomorrow" The rest of the girls saw it coming too.

"Are you sure?" Katie asked. "I don't want you ending up in London on your own with no way home." She had a point. London could be quite daunting when it was late and dark, especially if you weren't a local.

"Well why don't you stay too?" Charles nodded his head towards you as he spoke. "That way you could leave together." Not one part of you questioned Charles' intentions as he spoke. He remained the responsible 'Arthur's older brother' that was being sensible and mature, making sure that everyone got home safely.

"If that's alright with you?" Your question was answered with a nod of his head. You all began to grab your things and headed outside, saying your goodbyes, telling them to text you when they were home safe as they encouraged you to do the same. By the time they'd headed for the station, Pierre and Lucy were already nowhere to be seen.

"I'm not sure about you but I'm in no rush to go back to the apartment just yet!" You spoke to Charles as you looked at the night sky above you.

"Where do you want to go in the meantime?"

“Have you ever explored London before?" You answered his question with one of your own. He shook his head. "So you haven't seen all beautiful sites it has to offer." The sarcasm was evident in your voice as you pointed down the alley way you were walking past full of black bins and plastic bags full of rubbish.

"I've only ever been here to celebrate races and I can't say I've seen much other than the inside of some bars and restaurants.”

"Well you're in for a long night Leclerc." Two hours ago Charles wanted nothing more than for him and Pierre to go back to the apartment. The lack of alcohol he'd consumed throughout the night was only adding to the tiredness he'd accumulated over the race weekend. However as you dragged him through the streets of London he realised there was no place he'd rather be.

You'd ridden Boris bikes alongside the River Thames, shown him your favourite restaurant in Covent Garden and taken him through Piccadilly Circus all the way to Oxford Street where closed shops lined the dark streets, pointing out your favourite ones as you cycled past. He never did things like this. As a F1 driver it was difficult for him to go almost anywhere without going unnoticed but tonight not one person had recognised him because for the night he was just a normal person with another normal person having a good time. 

After abandoning the Boris bikes at the nearest drop off point you both headed towards the apartment. It belonged to Charles' mother and was often used by you and Arthur whenever he'd come to visit and couldn't stay with you.

"You seem happier than when I last saw you." His comment made you smile. It was all he could think about as you wondered through the dark streets. The last time you'd seen him you'd just broken up with your ex. Your relationship had been on and off for years but you'd finally called it quits for good. It didn't take a genius to see the relationship was making you unhappy, the anxiety, tears and sleepless nights were picked up on by everyone albeit your efforts to hide it. Arthur was the only person who truly knew what was going on and it hurt him to see his best friend in so much pain when she thought she was in love.

"Thank you, I'm in a much better place now. I've had time to focus on myself." You'd completely lost yourself throughout the time you were together, focusing so much on what he'd wanted and expected rather than what made you happy. The situation had increased your maturity and for that reason you were grateful your first heartbreak had come at such a young age. You'd correctly assumed that Arthur had made Charles aware of your sensitiveness to the situation to some extent as he made no further comments. 

He had approached Arthur with concern after your last meeting. Despite a fun grand prix weekend you'd been blinking back tears and spent most of the time with a blank expression on your face. He hated it. He could see you trying to compose yourself, when he came to thank you for coming you'd done your best to smile, your voice was laced with excitement, but your eyes were empty, drained of emotion. He was grateful to see it had made its way back.

"Did you know I've never been to Harrods?" His random fact was a relief as he quickly changed the subject, allowing your mind to be brought back to the present rather than the dark times from the past.

"Even I've been to Harrods Charles. We should go tomorrow, you'd have a field day in the clothes section." As a part time student most of your spare money went into savings, a fund you'd created for your planned travels when you were done with your studies. It wasn't very often that you brought yourself nice things so despite your multiple trips to Harrods, you'd never actually purchased anything. You could see him deliberating your suggestion in his head. 

"You can wear sunglasses and a hat with your mask, just don't wear a bright red Ferrari top and I'm sure we'll be able to keep ourselves to ourselves."

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" His question brought you back to reality slightly.

"I'll call in sick?" you offered. It suddenly occurred to you that this was the longest time you and Charles had ever been alone together and the idea of leaving wasn't something that you wanted to think about just yet. 

Charles opened the apartment door with caution, neither of you wanted to interrupt your friend’s spontaneous night, nor hear any of the antics they were getting up to. You frowned at each other as you stepped into the entrance corridor. There were no faint voices, no mumbling or laughs, just the hum of the city that echoed through the slightly open window.

“Maybe they didn’t come back here,” your judgement became increasingly more likely as you followed Charles towards the kitchen and stood around the island.

“I’ll send him a text.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away before placing it on the marble countertop. It lit up with Pierre's reply not long after he'd set it down. “They went to some hotel, apparently he’s dropping her home in a second.”

“He’s not the type to bring girls back to his home turf then,” you took the bag off your shoulder and placed in on the counter, grabbing a hair tie from inside and gathering your locks into a low ponytail. “Smart move.” Charles shrugged his shoulders at your observation.

He’d never really thought about it before, but he was the same. The few casual hook ups that he’d had over the years had never been in places he spent a lot of time like his house in Monaco, or his favourite holiday home in Mykonos, and never this apartment. Sure, he’d slept with people in those cities, but never in his space. You were right though; it was easier to forget about the crime if you never returned to the scene.

"Do you have anything I can change into?" 

“There’s a top on the end of my bed.” You thanked him as you made your way towards his room. “I’ll grab some of my things so I can crash on the sofa once you’ve changed.” You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him as you stood in the doorway.

“I’m not kicking an f1 driver out of their own bed Charles, especially not post race weekend.” You crossed your arms as you lent against the door frame. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.” He argued.

“It’s one night Charles, I really don’t mind.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.” He repeated.

“Well then it looks like we’re sharing the bed.” Your words not only surprised you, but also Charles. Neither of you were sure where this increased confidence had come from, but you didn’t want it to become awkward, so you tried to justify your statement. “Me and Arthur used to share a bed all the time!”

The look on his face as your eyes met with his across the room was one you’d so desperately been seeking without realising it. His head cocked, eyebrows raised and small smirk tugging its way onto his lips provided reassurance, giving you the confidence to confirm that this relationship was very different to your one with Arthur. You already knew it, you had felt it every time you’d looked at him since you were about 16, but this was the first time you could say with certainty that it was reciprocated.

Charles was dying to climb into bed with you. To wrap his arms around you and stay like it all night. He didn’t care about the fact that your hair would be in his face or that his arm would most likely be dead within the first half an hour. He just wanted you there with him, so he could learn things about you that he didn’t already know and fall asleep with the scent of your faded perfume beneath his nose. He suggested that he’d sleep on the sofa because he knew that wasn’t what you were implying. 

“I’ll stay on my side,” you offered. “Promise.”

That’s what he was afraid of. Charles was a respectful man, he wouldn’t cross boundaries without permission, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without your touch. The thought of your body lying so tantalisingly close to his while dressed in nothing but your underwear and one of his shirts was driving him crazy.

“I’m a very good sleeper, you won’t even know I’m there.”

You couldn’t stop listing reasons for Charles to join you. He wished you would stop; his head was already full of so many.

“Well go and get comfy and I’ll join you in a minute,” In that moment he made the decision to give in knowing that if this was the only chance he got to lay in bed with you he'd take the opportunity, whether your bodies were intertwined or not. “Do you need a drink or anything?”

“A water would be great!” You smiled as you turned around and headed to the bedroom. Charles spent the next few minutes alone in the kitchen trying to convince himself that this was a bad idea. That it was wrong. You were his brother’s best friend and he shouldn't be this nervous or excited to lay next to you, but no matter how hard he tried to dislike the situation he couldn’t because it just felt right.

By the time he joined you in bed you’d already made yourself incredibly comfortable. He chuckled at the site of you tangled in the duvet before climbing in next to you. You laid facing each other and remained that way as you chatted about memories from the past. Childhood holidays and his earliest racing days to you latest life plans and hopes for the future. That's how you drifted to sleep, listening to his voice was more comforting than you'd like to admit. When you awoke in the morning you were unsure what terrified you more, the feeling of one of you completely reducing the few centimetres of space left between you or never knowing what Charles’ touch felt like.

*****

Maybe that’s why you were so unimpressed when Charles and Pierre joined the several of you seated around the long table on the patio with two unknown girls. The number of cocktails you’d consumed weren’t providing you with a great amount of rationality but then again it was difficult to justify being annoyed when you had no reason to be in the soberest of situations. The only person to blame was yourself, you’d had the chance to experience a night with Charles and a combination of your stubbornness, maturity and (let’s face it) fear of what could happen had meant that you’d missed out.

It was only as she threw her head back at one of his comments that it hit you, you were jealous. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. Ever since your last relationship you had lacked almost every kind of emotion. You’d dated people since but that connection was never really there which is why you were full of confusion at the situation presenting itself to you. The feelings felt foreign to your body and you weren’t sure how to deal with them, so you did the one think that you were too young to do back then. Get drunk and try to forget about them for a night.

"Are you listening? Drink up, we're leaving in a second!" Arthurs voice provided a distraction from your thoughts whilst encouraging them. You tilted your head back as you finished the remainder of your champagne, your arm was already reaching out for the nearest bottle to see if you could sneak in a quick refill. You didn’t even like champagne but after having run out of cocktails about an hour ago you didn’t really have much choice. In any other situation you would’ve declined and waited until you were at the club but you weren’t really in the mood to sober up right now. You got up to follow everyone to the taxis, deciding that the bottle had too much in to be left at the table to waste, but not enough in that you couldn't finish it before you reached you destination. Putting the bottle to your lips this time, you took another gulp.

He noticed. He noticed the vast amount of alcohol you had consumed thus far. The unbothered façade you'd displayed during dinner was picked up by him the second he’d glanced in your direction. Your eyes often met his across rooms, at events, in the paddock, even at family dinners and it was always followed by a shared smile, but tonight you hadn't even looked at him and he couldn't stand it. Although he couldn’t be certain, he had a good idea what the cause was. Guilt was slowly consuming his thoughts. He shouldn’t have felt guilty, there was no real reason to, yet he did.

He knew if he had come alone you would've had a couple of drinks with dinner, just enough to prepare yourself for the club afterwards, allowing the sweaty people and sticky floor to become slightly bearable. He also knew that you weren't a huge drinker and that the lack of food you had consumed at dinner would only worsen the matter which was evident as he watched you fall into a taxi with Arthur and Carla as he climbed into a separate one with Pierre and, what they appeared to be to everyone else, their ‘dates’.

The club was busy, everyone excited to be back on the dance floor after its absence over the past year or two. Although it would've been nice to spend some more time with him, you were thankful that the crowds had engulfed you so you'd lose sight of Charles and her. You'd found your way to the middle of the dance floor and you remained there for hours losing track of time and somehow your friends too.

Unbeknown to you, Charles had lost his 'date' at the first chance he had. He'd met her on a boat during the day with Pierre and when his best friend had invited her best friend for dinner he felt bad for not doing the same. He was sitting at the bar with Pierre who'd picked up on the amount of attention he was paying you as you danced along with random strangers. The Frenchman questioned what he was doing when he noticed Charles tighten his jaw. Charles nodded his head in your direction and the pair watched as a man approached you.

The guy in front of you was only offering to buy you a drink but you knew you were way over your limit. You'd politely declined, naively assuming that he'd disappear back into the sea of faces but that wasn't the case. Your refusal  clearly not accepted as he insisted. grabbing onto your arm in an attempt to pull you in the direction of the bar. Yanking your arm out of his grip you instantly managed to sober up as you came to the realisation you were going to have to fight this battle alone.

Charles knew you were a big girl, that you could handle yourself in almost any situation thrown your way, but as the guy reached out to touch you he could've sworn he moved quicker than his Ferrari. His presence shocked you as you flinched slightly at the unfamiliar grip on your waist.

"It's just me ma belle." Charles whispered calmly into your ear, placing a feather light kiss onto your cheek. Relief instantly washed over your body. You wished you could focus on the conversation that Charles was now having with the strange man in front of you but you couldn't. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of your skin heating beneath Charles' fingertips and the tingling sensation that lingered where he'd planted the kiss. He'd never touched you before, the brief hugs being the most contact you'd ever shared, and now he was standing in a club with his hand around your waist as he fended off a random guy who'd taken an interest in you. "I think we should head home." When Charles spoke it felt as though each word was coated in sex as it left his lips. He hadn't meant it in a sexy way, you knew that. He wanted to take you home so you were safe. However his intense grip on your waist and his stubble lightly grazing your cheek when he leaned in to speak to you was putting thoughts into your mind that you knew shouldn't be there.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking for the first time that night. Your eyes always showed a lot of emotion. Your body language was often hard to read but you always made eye contact when you spoke. He frequently used it to determine what mood you were in but this time he was met with one he'd never seen before. Despite them having a drunken glaze, your dilated pupils held a look of lust. He could've sworn you were mentally undressing him. You weren't. Instead you were thinking of how much you wanted him to undress you.

"I think that's a good idea." He could hear the smirk in your voice over the sound of the music as you let your lips gently brush his ear lobe while you spoke. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath in an attempt to pull himself together. You were disappointed when his hand left your side but satisfied when it quickly intertwined itself with yours. His skin was softer than you were expecting, the rough patches slowly disappearing over the summer break. Your hands remained that way as you walked through the streets of Mykonos. Neither of you spoke, you just remained in a comfortable silence. As the villa came into view Charles was basically marching down the street, his strides increasing as your little legs tried to keep up. He dropped your hand when he reached the door, searching his pockets for the key to unlock it.

The villa was colder than you were expecting, a shiver ran down your spine as the air con hit you. You headed towards the kitchen and grabbed your sweater off one of the bar stools, sliding it on over your outfit.

“So you’d let Carla drive your car huh?” his face instantly broke out in a smile as you relieved some of the tension between you both. “You know that’s not true.” Charles followed you to the kitchen and watched as you perched yourself on the edge of the counter. He poured a glass of water and took a sip before handing it to you which you gratefully accepted.

“You’d let your date drive it instead?” He rolled his eyes as he chuckled at your sarcasm, hoping that you’d forgotten about the girl he’d sat next to during dinner as quickly as he had. “How many girls get a turn before me?” Although he didn't let it show, your question had offended him slightly. Despite his popularity with women he was never one to disrespect them, especially not you. He took a step closer to you, standing directly in front of your legs that were pressed firmly together.

“You’re the only one I want to see in that seat mon Cherie,” That was one nickname that he’d never called you, yet it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly. He leaned against your legs and you slowly parted them so he could stand in between, closing the distance between you both. “I’d let you drive it again in a heartbeat.” Your eyes were fluttering between his eyes and lips, your stare only breaking when he leaned in to speak in your ear just like he’d done in the club. He placed a kiss on your cheekbone and slowly worked his way up to your ear.

“You looked very sexy behind the wheel of my car.” You locked your hands with his while he continued to speak, closing your eyes in a desperate attempt to try and calm your heart rate down. You wanted to say something back, engage more in the conversation, but for the first time in a long time you were at a loss for words. You loved driving, you'd often join the boys go karting growing up and learned to drive as soon as you could, so when Charles asked if you wanted to drive his Ferrari back to your home after your Harrods shopping trip you were more than excited. It was a nice change from the train ride you were expecting.

He'd watched your eyes light up when you realised he was being serious. It was the closest you'd ever been to driving something even remotely similar to an f1 car despite it being different in so many ways. Your smile was infectious as you put your foot down on the motorway, leaving London behind. You'd never even driven an automatic car so this was a completely new experience. He'd taught you how to use the paddles to manually change gears if you wanted to and how to shift through its different modes as you drove around. The only disappointing part of the journey was reaching your destination, your trip home considerably quicker than you would've wanted. After spending the whole time focused on going fast and not crashing, you'd selfishly not noticed how Charles was feeling throughout the drive.

He'd been trying to keep his eyes trained on the road in front of him but couldn't help steal a glance in your direction every now and then. He was always surrounded by fast cars, something he realised after seeing you sat in his driving seat he'd begun to take for granted. He felt overwhelmed with pride, he was the one who was making you this happy. He felt privileged seeing you this free as your hair flew around in the wind while you rested a hand out the side of the car, trying to resist the force of the air pushing it back. It was his turn to be selfish as he realised that he always wanted to keep that moment for himself. He didn't want anyone else to make you feel like this, give you this experience. He wanted to be the one to make you smile.

“Don’t go quiet now mon Cherie.” That nickname. Again. “I think we still need to discuss what happened in the shower.” You instantly snapped back into reality at the mention of the shower. His hand fell from yours and toyed with the bracelet on your wrist. The one that you nervously played with in situations like these. The one that he’d gifted you last year. The one with his name etched into it.

The morning that you'd woke up in Charles' bed you were alone. An empty bed was something you'd become accustomed to over the past couple of years but in this instance it made you awaken quicker. The note left on his pillow stopped you from worrying, he was out on a run.

You respected his commitment to his career and took the opportunity to go for a shower. The warm water felt refreshing against your skin, goose bumps slowly appearing across your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Rubbing Charles shower gel into your skin you closed eyes and lent your head against the tiled shower wall. It wasn't clear at what point you'd become so aroused, but  the steam from the shower and the smell of Charles covering you definitely had something to do with it. You allowed your hands to roam your body, his name unexpectedly falling from your mouth as you brushed past your breasts. The careless use of his name had caused your eyes to widen and your hand to clamp over your mouth. It had left you lips so naturally but felt inappropriate to say aloud.

It wasn't until a few days later that you realised he'd heard. He almost hadn’t. If he’d unlocked the apartment a mere three seconds later your words wouldn’t have reached his ears. His run had been sweaty and he was still out of breath but his panting soon stopped. His eyes widened as he heard his name leave your lips and he froze. He didn’t want to announce his presence, he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it and didn’t want you to feel embarrassed that he had. He didn’t know what to do. He felt as though he was invading your privacy but knew that if he shut the door you’d hear it close and know he was there. So instead he stuck his foot between the door and the doorframe to keep it slightly open as he waited for the sound of the shower to finish running. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but he failed. All he could think about was you, in his shower, without him and how badly he wanted to join you, just so he could make his name fall from your mouth the way it just did over and over again.

You thought you'd gotten away with it. He'd entered the apartment just as you were stepping out the bathroom and he'd acted as cool as ever. The weekend was slowly becoming a distant memory that you were trying hard not to dwell on, hating that you were missing his presence so much already. It wasn't until you were at work the following week that it became apparent your secret crush was no longer a secret. You were in the office early, earlier than everyone else. That wasn’t unusual, you liked to be in early as it often meant you could leave earlier too. What was unusual was the box placed neatly on your desk.

Although the small parcel was addressed to you, you opened it with hesitation. A small gasp left your lips as your unwrapping revealed a red box, the golden engraving of the word ‘Cartier’ on top. Confused, you gently opened to box revealing a bracelet.

You placed it on your desk as you searched for a note. Despite it being awfully obvious who it was from, you wanted some kind of confirmation or, better yet, a reason as to why someone had put this into your possession. You'd spotted it in Harrods with Charles. You hadn't mentioned it, just spent a few minutes mindlessly staring at its beauty. There was no point even considering buying it for yourself, the price tag was close to your yearly salary. Eventually you found the note. 

'I've heard you like to moan it'

You picked up the bracelet once more, analysing it as you did so. It was so discreet, discreet enough that if the note wasn’t a big enough hint you might never have realised. His name. Etched into the inside of the band in the same font as the word ‘Cartier'. Any other name and he wouldn’t have been able to get away with it. No one had picked up on its personalisation in the past year. It had remained your little secret.

You gulped loudly, unsure of what to say next. The dull lighting hid your cheeks as they flushed red with embarrassment, just like they'd done when you'd read his note. Luckily it was situations like these you considered your stubbornness a strength. "All I could thing about was how much I wanted you to touch me Charles." With your lips dangerously close to Charles' ear you'd somehow managed to complete your sentence with confidence. The conviction in your voice had satisfied Charles although it was obvious that he hadn't expected it as he pulled his head back slightly to look you in the eyes. It was the first time you'd seen them so dark out of his crash helmet. They didn't have the same teasing smile paired with them as they did only a few moments ago. For a brief moment your heart dropped. What if he was just teasing you and you'd taken it too far? 

"Say something." Your voice was barely audible despite the eerie silence that had settled in the kitchen as Charles picked up on your nervousness. His expression softened but he remained silent, placing his forehead against yours and gently brushing your noses. You both very quickly realised there was no longer the need for words. The last thing either of you wanted to do right now was have a conversation about what was going on because quite honestly neither of you were sure. All you knew was that as soon as the space between your lips closed, there was no going back. You were craving each other's touch and it was as though the kiss you were yet to share would be the seal of approval you both needed to explore each other in a way you hadn't before.

You'd had enough of the teasing, enough of the wondering and what ifs, enough of wasting time without knowing how his lips felt against yours. You moved your head up slightly brushing your lips with his before releasing one of your hands from his grasp and placing it on the back of his head, pulling it down slightly. As soon as your lips pressed against his you became overwhelmed with emotions. You relaxed into it, it felt so right. His hands began to explore your body, one placed on your thigh and the other tracing lines up and down your back, sitting on the counter top had worked in your favour as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't long before his tongue found yours as you let your hands snake beneath his shirt feeling his back and arms tense beneath you as he lifted you up from the side and placed you on the dining table which was at a slighter lower level. 

His mouth left yours and you let out a small groan of frustration, he smiled at the sound as you realised he was only doing it to strip you of the sweater you'd not long ago put on, allowing him to rid you of it, not caring how cold it was anymore. In between the kisses he was placing down your neck you pulled his top over his head. Your eyes were trained to his shoulders as you admired him, only shutting when he re-joined your lips. 

The sound of a key turning the lock at the front door caught Charles' attention. There was a high chance he'd consumed less alcohol than you tonight which is why he giggled slightly when you chose to ignore the sound and bring him back in for another kiss. 

“WE’RE HOME” Arthur voice echoed round the villa. The sound of his brothers voice was enough for you to release him from your grip.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh, it’s 3am people will be sleeping.” Carla tried to whisper but the tiled walls carried the sound throughout the villa. You didn’t know if anyone else was home, you hadn’t checked and to be honest you hadn’t even thought about it. The only thing on your mind was Charles.

“Y/N and I are in the kitchen,” Charles called back. His eyes never left yours as he grabbed his shirt you'd thrown across the kitchen and redressed himself, not until Arthur stumbled through the door way knocking into chairs and making them squeal as the legs glided across the floor. You both watched as he regained balance and muttered a drunken apology before sitting himself on the floor.

"Good night Arthur?" you laughed slightly at the sight of him on the floor, he'd never been the most elegant drunk but at least he was entertaining.

"Great night." He confirmed as he laid himself down, a laugh leaving Carla's lips as she stared at the state of him. If someone had spoken to you a couple of hours ago you would've probably had a different opinion but as it turned out, you were starting to agree with him.

TAGLIST

@imthebadguyyy @abysshaven @phatyak​

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, and Erawan wasn’t a threat. Hope you enjoy!

I am sorry for being rubbish and not updating when I said I would. Life got in the way and I’ve ended up being really busy! I will be away for a few days and will be back around the 23rd of Nov. Hopefully with some more updates (and a potential ending for this fic) as well as a new fic in the works. Love and appreciate you all :) 

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival @becarefuloflove @tanvee1231 @viajandosinalas

Chapter Twenty-Six ~ Serene Night

Chapter Twenty-Five ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven

Surprisingly enough, Aelin managed to sleep for a significant amount of the journey even though when she woke the wind was howling and hail was hammering against the carriage. 

Orlon had still been asleep when she opened her eyes. He looked so peaceful as he rested, the weight of her departure and the last few weeks gone, the frown lines smoothed across his brow. She let herself smile at the sight of her uncle— it was rare for her to see him like this. 

Not long after she had woken, she felt the carriage come to a slow and then a stop. She glanced through the window and spotted the small inn that was tucked between the tall pine trees that covered this part of Terrasen. Smoke floated from the stone chimney and she could scent whatever delicious food was being cooked inside. They finally came to a full stop and Orlon opened his eyes, yawning slightly. He looked at Aelin and gave her a cautious smile then cleared his throat.

“I organised for the inn to have some food prepared for our arrival today. We can rest here for an hour or so and then head back on the road.” 

“How long to Orynth from here?” She asked. 

“Only a few hours. We’ve made good time despite the weather.” He reached to open the door, gesturing for Aelin to step out. 

Her feet sunk into the snow as she exited, the crunching of other feet neared her and she smiled broadly as Rowan came to wrap an arm around her, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he did. 

“So you survived then.” He murmured, a slight laugh in his words. 

She looked up at him. “He’s not pleased with me. I will be paying for this for a long time… but I think it’ll be okay.” She slipped her own arm around him. “When we get back to Orynth we’re to have our mating ceremony. My mother has apparently planned our wedding too.” 

“Good. I didn’t want to wait any longer anyway.” He scanned the surroundings briefly before bringing his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and lowering his mouth to her own in a soft kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

Aelin’s warmed at the whisper of a kiss and rose on her tiptoes to place another gentle peck on his lips. She relished the feel of him against her and the tenderness of their mouths touching, her heart beating faster as Rowan deepened the kiss ever so slightly. She heard his own breath hitch as she lay her hand behind his neck to pull him closer. 

She was aware of the guards and the people who would be watching them, but she had spent too many weeks without him to care.

A throat cleared and they broke away from each other to look at a grim-faced Lorcan. “If you’re done, food is being served inside.” 

Aelin hid her laugh in Rowan’s shoulder and peered up at him. His own expression was one of subtle amusement. 

They followed Lorcan inside and she shivered at the change of temperature; not realising just how cold it had actually been outside. The fire was roaring in the corner and she felt her own flame sing. She let her magic appear in the form of a mild heat, enveloping their group, warming them up as they all sat around a large wooden table that had been laid out with all sorts of food. 

Lorcan had already begun to help himself to the steaming hot stew that rested in the middle of the table in an iron pot. Aelin on the other hand, took the pot of tea and poured a glass for Orlon before filling her own. 

The four of them ate in silence, enjoying the warmth of the inn and trying to ignore the stares from the other patrons in there. It wasn’t everyday that the king of Terrasen came to eat in a public place like this.

Still, Aelin ate her food, trying to keep her face neutral as she felt Rowan’s hand go to her thigh, his finger tracing patterns. It seemed Rowan wasn’t the only one who was needing the reassurance that they were together. 

Lorcan excused himself after he had finished eating. He bowed to Orlon when he left, exiting the inn and into the cold outside. Aelin looked to Rowan in question, but he shrugged. Lorcan would be Lorcan it seemed— and he wouldn’t be happy until he was back home with his wife. 

Aelin saw Orlon watching her and Rowan and she gave him a small smile. She knew things would be tense between them for a while and she was going to make sure she did everything she could to get back into the good graces of Orlon. 

~ 

They remained at the inn for only an hour, Orlon thanking the innkeeper profusely before leaving a large purse of coins for him. The hail that had been hammering down earlier had eased into a soft snowfall instead. Aelin wrapped her cloak tight around her as she left the warmth of the fire inside and waited for Rowan and Orlon to follow. 

With only a few hours left until they would reach Orynth she wanted nothing more than to just slip into the carriage with Rowan and spend those hours completely alone— but Lorcan wouldn’t take kindly to being shoved in with Orlon; and she was sure that Orlon would not want to be saddled with the mopey Lorcan. So Aelin traipsed to the carriage and gave Rowan a small wave before she ducked inside. 

Orlon was not far behind her and soon after they had entered the carriage it was moving again. 

They were both silent for a while as they watched the pine forests rush past. This part of Terrasen was one of her favourites. They had crossed the harsh mountains and into the softer peaks, where the trees grew tall and in the summer the grass was lush and green, little streams trickled down, the water usually crystal clear and fresh— although this time of the year they were completely frozen. But despite the deep snow that covered the area, there was still beauty in it— and Aelin admired that beauty as they passed. 

“I imagine there will be a crowd of people waiting for you when you return.” 

Aelin tore her gaze from the window and looked to Orlon. She nodded once and turned back to the window. 

Orlon cleared his throat. “The lords agreed to their marriage.” 

Aelin gave him a puzzled look. “Who’s marriage?” 

“Aedion and Lysandra. I didn’t even need to do much convincing. Apparently you leaving to rescue your mate made the two of them realise that they needed to stop hiding and come clean.” 

“They told everyone?” 

Orlon nodded with a hint of a smile. “Aedion made quite the speech to everyone. Who knew he could be so romantic.” He laughed with a huff. “I’m sure they’ll tell you all about it.” 

Aelin smiled to herself. “I’m glad it worked out for them.” 

“Indeed. It seems the Gods have smiled upon our family recently.” 

~

Aelin slept for the rest of the journey, being woken when Orlon nudged her and announced they were home. 

Home. 

She glanced through the window and she felt the last of the weight lift her shoulders as she spied the palace. Stood on the steps were her family— Aedion and Lysandra hand in hand, with Lysandra’s other resting on her very subtle swollen belly. Her mother and father were grinning, even though she spotted the tears streaming down her mothers face. Aelin let out her own sob, sucking in a breath at seeing her family again. 

She had hoped and prayed to every God that she would make it back safely, but there had always been that doubt at the back of her mind that things would not go her way— that she would fail and she would never see them again— but here they were, standing together on the snowy steps, smiling from ear to ear as Aelin emerged from her carriage and ran to them. 

She enveloped her parents in a hug, crying harder now as the weeks of missing them caught up to her. 

“Fireheart.” Her mother whispered as she held Aelin tight. “I’m so happy you’re back.” 

Her father kissed the side of her head, she heard him sniffle and she looked to see his eyes shining. “You are in so much trouble. But I am so glad you’re safe.” 

Aelin laughed and hugged them tighter. “I missed you both.” 

She let her parents hold her for a little longer before turning to Lysandra and Aedion. They both looked at her expectantly and she moved over to them, taking them both into a warm embrace. 

Lysandra was crying, her head burrowed into Aelin’s neck. Aelin just laughed and hugged them tighter. “I told you I’d come back.” She laughed. 

“We have so much to tell you.”

Aelin stepped back. “Me too.” As she spoke, an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close. 

“It seems there’s a lot of catching up to do.” 

Lysandra threw her arms around Rowan, bringing him into a hug that lasted a while. “I’m so happy to see you too, Rowan. I was so worried.” She broke away from him and back into Aedion’s embrace. 

Aedion didn’t say anything as he studied Rowan, the two males nodding at one another in some sort of male acknowledgement. 

Aelin knew that Aedion would be pissed he had left again— and even though Aelin had not mentioned it to Rowan, she too, was pissed that he had left. But that was a conversation for another day and she was too happy to ruin it now. 

The four of them turned when they heard a squeal of delight and watched as Elide launched herself into Lorcan’s arms, the male lifting her up and spinning her slightly as he kissed her over and over. Aelin’s heart warmed at the sight of it, content that they were all back to together once again. 

Orlon came up behind them waved his hand. “Let’s all go inside. The wind is too chilly.” 

So the group of them entered into the palace and Aelin delighted in seeing her maids lined agains the wall. She smiled at them all, giving a little wave as she followed Orlon into the same room that she had taken Fenrys into when he had told her Rowan was missing. She ignored the stormy feeling that she got entering there, holding Rowan’s hand tighter— he was here, and he was alive. 

Aelin had assumed everyone else would follow inside, but the door closed behind her and Rowan. Orlon sat in the large armchair, motioning for Aelin and Rowan to follow suit and the two of them made themselves comfortable on the loveseat. 

“I promise this is the last serious conversation I will be having with you. But I need to tell you what is going to be happening in the coming weeks.” He continued, “This evening we will go down to the temple where a priestess will confirm the mating bond. As you requested, only close family will be coming.” 

Aelin couldn’t deny the excitement she felt at having the bond officially recognised, even if her and Rowan were technically already mated. 

“Following the ceremony this evening, the two of you will be taken to the private cottage that had been reserved for you for after the original mating date. However—“ he looked pointedly at Aelin, “due to the circumstances, you will only remain until tomorrow afternoon at which point you’ll both return to the palace.” 

Rowan squeezed her hand— one night would be enough. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Rowan will begin shadowing Aedion in his duties, as when the two of you are married those responsibilities will fall to Rowan,” Orlon shifted in his seat, “Aelin will be attending all meetings that require a senior royal, she will also be overseeing the preparations for the Yulemas ball.” 

Aelin internally groaned. The Yulemas ball was fun to attend, but not fun to organise. She would be chasing down vendors, musicians, trying to pick colours for flowers— all the menial things that she detested. However she could not complain— it was the least she could do considering everything. 

“Aelin’s mother has planned your wedding for two weeks after Yulemas. Royalty from several countries have been invited and as they arrive we expect the two of you to welcome them and entertain them if necessary. After you have been married you will be allowed a short honeymoon, after which you will return to normal duties.” 

She really was being punished. Her mother had told her that it was normal for senior members of the royal family to have at least three weeks for a honeymoon— to settle them into their new life. But it seemed Orlon deemed that too generous. 

“There is one more thing that I wish to talk to you about.” 

Aelin furrowed her brows, watching Orlon’s expression. 

“The matter of my stepping down and your taking the throne. I have planned on announcing my retirement during the New Year celebrations, with the idea that I will officially step down just before  the summer solstice, Aelin’s coronation taking place on the day of the solstice— in recognition of her fire magic and Mala.” 

Gods, it was really happening. 

“Rowan, as her husband you will become king consort. After your wedding you will begin learning about what responsibilities come with that.” Orlon took a breath. “Do you understand?” 

They both nodded.

“Good. Then you can both get cleaned up and ready for your ceremony.” 

Orlon stood and left the room, leaving Aelin and Rowan alone. Neither said anything for a moment, both of them processing the hectic schedule they had been given for the next few months.

Rowan broke the silence first. “King consort…” 

Aelin looked up at him, his expression was unreadable. “Do you not want that title? I’m sure you can remain a prince if you’d prefer.” 

He shook his head. “I just never imagined I’d ever have such a title. I feel undeserving of it.” 

Aelin scoffed. “You’re more deserving of that title than I am queen.” 

He kissed her brow. “You deserve it, Aelin.” 

She let her forehead rest against his chest, Rowan’s arms holding her tenderly. 

“We should get cleaned up then. I can’t say I’m fond of the stench I’m emitting.” Rowan pulled away, and then glanced down to her hand. “You aren’t wearing your ring.” 

She glanced at her hand too, feeling the lightness of her finger without the ring. “I didn’t want to damage it.” 

Rowan gave let out a hmph and then stood, pulling her with him. 

~

Aelin left Rowan downstairs, Lysandra had linked an arm through her own and practically dragged her away. Aelin had been away from the palace longer than this before, but she felt the comfort of home embracing her and she smiled to herself.

Lysandra paused outside one of the many doors that lined the hallway. 

“Your mother moved me into the room here. She said it was bigger and would be more suitable for Aedion and I and a new baby,” she pushed the door open, “it’s just temporary until the townhouse in the city is finished being redecorated.” 

The room was similar to Aelin’s, a large bed that sat in the centre of the wall, a big oak desk and various armchairs and a sofa were placed by the huge fireplace. Through another door was the washroom. Aelin hummed her approval as Lysandra went to the wardrobe. As she was rummaging through and picking out dresses, she turned to Aelin and pointed to an empty spot near the bed. 

‘That’s where the crib will go,” she threw a dress onto the bed, “Evalin has commissioned a new one to be made. It’s going to be beautiful.” 

Aelin couldn’t have been happier for Lysandra. Her friend’s smile reached her eyes and she was glowing with happiness, and perhaps glowing because of the little bundle of joy that she was expecting. But Aelin could feel her heart swelling at the elation Lysandra was feeling. She said as much. 

Lysandra paused her rummaging and turned to Aelin, her face turning serious. “I was so scared when you left. I didn’t eat, I barely slept and Sam was beside himself too— Aedion ended up staying with the two of us because we were all just a mess,” she perched on the bed. “When Orlon got the message that you were safe and that you would be returning home with Rowan I just— I was so thankful.” 

“I’m sorry that I put you all through that.” Aelin joined Lysandra on the edge of the bed. 

“I know you are.” Lysandra smiled. “At least your leaving made Aedion and I get our heads out of our asses and actually realise that we loved each other enough to say hell to the lords and just tell the truth.” 

Aelin laughed then. “I’m proud of you both. Orlon told me that it had been agreed you could get married.” She nudged her friend, “who knew we would both be getting husbands this year.” 

Lysandra laughed. “A lot of things have been unexpected this year, for sure.” 

“How are you feeling? Has baby calmed down enough to let you eat now?” 

Lysandra stood, “just. But honestly half the things I used to love now disgust me, but Aedion’s been a saint.”

“He’ll be a good father.”

Lysandra smiled wide. “I can’t wait to see him with the baby. Every time I think about him holding it, or playing with it when it’s older… it makes me want to jump his bones.” 

Aelin let out a bark of laughter and picked up the pile of clothes that Lysandra had thrown on her bed. “You’re insane.” 

Lysandra grinned. “I don’t have an immortal lifespan to spread out making babies like you. I have to get in as much time as I can.” 

Aelin groaned and followed the hallway to the end and opened the door to her own bedroom. The fire had been lit already and Elspeth was waiting for her by the wardrobe. 

Aelin put Lysandra’s things down and jogged to Elspeth, wrapping her in a hug. Elspeth seemed confused for a moment, but gingerly hugged Aelin back, releasing her shortly after. 

“Your highness,” she curtsied and Aelin scoffed. “We don’t have much time to get you ready. The bath is hot, so hurry. When you’re done I will fix your hair.” 

Aelin didn’t need to be told again. She rushed into the washroom and sighed at the steaming bath that was indeed waiting for her. She stripped quickly and sunk into the tub, breathing in the scent of lemon verbena. 

She could’ve stayed in the tub forever, but Lysandra poked her head through the doorway and exclaimed they were running low on time. 

So Aelin had ducked under the water one last time, scrubbing her head with soap and quickly rinsing before stepping out onto the bathmat and, not wanting to waste time, used her magic to dry herself quickly. 

Aelin felt herself become a little more excited as she spotted the deep emerald dress that hung from the wardrobe door. She was really getting to do this— she was finally getting to confirm the bond with Rowan. 

Lysandra and Elspeth helped her cleaned up. Elspeth had tutted at the state of Aelin’s nails, and Aelin had apologised exclaiming it was hard to keep properly groomed when she had been sleeping in forests and ships for the past few weeks. 

Although it was only going to be an intimate ceremony, they still managed to make Aelin look she was going to a ball. Her hair had been braided and put into an elegant low bun, a couple of pieces of hair left to fall and frame her face. Lysandra had been insistant on adding some rouge to Aelin’s lips and adding some pink to her cheeks too. It was the least Aelin could do considering everything. 

She had then been guided to the wardrobe where she was helped into the dress and she marvelled at the feel of the velvet against her skin and the way the dress fit in all the right places, before pooling at her feet. She suspected Rowan would be happy to see her in whatever she wore and— she blushed thinking of it— Rowan would most likely not be leaving this dress on for long. 

“You look absolutely beautiful, Aelin.” Elspeth was smiling at her in that motherly way she always did. “Oh, I almost forgot!” Elspeth skittered over to the vanity where the tiara was sat. She picked it up with gentle hands and came to Aelin and placing it softly on her head. “There, much better.” 

Aelin looked at herself in the mirror, Lysandra coming up next to her. “If this is what you look like now, I can’t wait to see what we can do for your wedding.” 

Aelin grinned and nudged her friend. “Says you.” 

The two of them laughed and a knock at the door quieted them. 

“Come in.” Aelin said as she played with a strand of her hair. 

“Your highness. Your parents are ready for you downstairs.” 

Aelin and Lysandra promptly left the room and followed a guard down the hallways and back down into the foyer. 

Her parents were waiting for her, the two of them stood arm in arm and beaming at her as she finished the last few steps, gripping her dress slightly higher to stop her tripping. She strode to where he parents were and stopped just in front of them. 

“Fireheart…” Her mother had tears in her eyes already. Gods knows what her mother would be like on her wedding day. 

Her father took Aelin’s hand and gripped it slightly. “You look wonderful, Aelin.” He looked away a moment, clearing his throat before turning back to her. “My little girl, all grown up.” 

“Not that grown up.” She laughed. 

Orlon chose that moment to appear and he halted by the rest of them. He was dressed in his traditional clothes, his green sash across his body, matching the colour of her dress. He wore the gold antler crown and looked as kingly as could be. Darrow was by his side, dressed no less nicely. 

“An improvement from when I found you in Suria.” 

Aelin ducked her head in shame. “I thought I should make a bit of an effort.” 

Aedion, who had just arrived, let out a short laugh and put his arm around Aelin. “You look good, Aelin.” 

Aelin glared at him. “I hope you don’t compliment Lys like that. Good? That’s not exactly high praise.” 

Lysandra laughed. “He can be a lot more imaginative, trust me. How do you think I got pregnant?” 

Aelin’s father let out a choked laugh. “Alright, I don’t think we need to get into that. Perhaps we should head down to the temple. There are people waiting— including Rowan.”

Aelin felt her stomach flip when she thought of Rowan waiting for her. Lucky for them, the temple was a short walk away in the palace grounds. It was usually reserved for daily prayers and the occasional solstice celebration. The larger temple in Orynth was used for big occasions, but this was to be a small intimate affair and for that Aelin was thankful. 

The air was cold when they stepped outside. Snow still lined the pathways, the palace gardeners worked hard all winter to ensure safe travels between places. Despite the cold, the sky was now clear and Aelin looked up to see the stars twinkling in the distance, the moon hung high in the sky casting it’s glow over the grounds. 

It took them no longer than two minutes before they arrived at the entrance of the temple. The small structure was made of the same white stone as most of Orynth and had columns with intricate carvings on them, she assumed it depicted stories of long forgotten people. 

She turned to her father who had walked beside her. “We’re all going in together, aren’t we?”

He nodded. “This isn’t a wedding, we can all go in together. Orlon will be the last to enter though, as is tradition.” 

She blew out a breath. Why she had suddenly come over with such nervousness was beyond her. It was just her family and friends in there— she didn’t need to say any vows or make a grand entrance— and the priestess would do all the talking for them. It was merely a blessing of their mating. 

Her father extended his arm, “shall we?” 

She took it and took a few deep breaths, trying to ease the nervous feeling she had in her stomach. 

The temple hadn’t really been decorated for the occasion, some candles were lit on various surfaces, bathing the room in light and a slight warmth. She did notice the Galathynius coat of arms hung on one side of the room and the Whitethorn one on the other side— a nod to their two families. 

Aelin’s father guided her to the front row of seats and when she turned to enter the pew, her breath caught in her throat. Rowan looked regal in his dark jacket, silver lining the collar and sleeve ends, his hair had been combed and—for once— was neat. But what caught her off guard the most was the way he was looking at her. His pine green eyes watched as she came to sit beside him. Eyes that were full of love and and warmth, of promises of what was to come. He looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars. Like he would tear the world apart for her— for their love. 

She placed herself beside him and he took her hand. “You look breathtaking.” 

Aelin felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, she would never get used to the way he looked at her. 

“Where’d you get the clothes? You look so princely in them.” She murmured. 

Rowan’s eyes lit up with laughter, letting out a small chuckle. “It seems Sellene had purchased some things for me and left them here as mating gifts.” 

“She has good taste.” 

Rowan studied Aelin. “Indeed she does.” 

Aelin rested her head on his shoulder, her arm snaking through his own and pulled him closer.

They remained that way for a couple of minutes, before a guard announced Orlon’s entrance and everyone stood. Orlon entered with Darrow just behind him and as he passed down the pews, people would bow. He finally reached the row just the other side of the aisle from Aelin and Rowan, and the two of them bowed low to him, before being told to be seated once more. 

The priestess was old and honestly a bit haggard. She had been the priestess here since Aelin could remember. But she had always been kind and had over the years offered Aelin pieces of advice when she could. 

Aelin barely heard the words that the priestess spoke, too focused on the way Rowan’s hands were making patterns in the fabric of her dress, or the way her body was pressed next to his. She almost missed it when the priestess asked the two of them to stand and come to the front. Rowan had to nudge her out and they both went to the altar where the priestess was hunched over a book. 

“We are here today to bless the mating of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.” The priestess took Aelin’s hand, then Rowan’s, placing their hands together. “Here, today, we will celebrate the joining of two souls into one. We celebrate the combining of their lives for eternity.” 

Rowan gazed at Aelin, a hint of a smile on his face. Aelin watched him too, marking the slight curve of his lips and the way his eyes shined in the candlelight. The priestess continued to speak, she spoke of the sanctity of a bond, how rare and special it was to find the one person who you could lay yourself bare to and not be ashamed. Aelin did not hear much else, too lost in Rowan to listen. The bond was dancing between them, her body was light and filled with adoration, her soul on fire as the priestess blessed them. 

“For as long as they shall live, may the Gods watch over and honour this sacred bond. May the Gods bless their love and fill their lives with joy and affection. May their future be peaceful and prosperous.” The priestess tied a ribbon of gold through their joined hands, then murmured words of the old language over them. 

Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes from Rowan, taking in everything about him. The nervousness from earlier was replaced with contentedness— all she could feel was the bond between them, ebbing and flowing as they were blessed. 

Before the priestess finished she unbound the ribbon and laid it in a box that was lined with black velvet, she arranged the ribbon so it lay overlapping, then handed the box to Rowan. 

“To remind you of the bond you share.” 

Rowan nodded his thanks. 

“May we all repeat the words of the goddess Mala, bringing good fortune to the mated pair.” 

Their family and friends rose from the seats and repeated the prayer of Mala. Shortly after Aelin and Rowan went back to their seats and waited for the ceremony to be over. 

The bond had settled, a calmness coming over her as the two of them sat. Before long the priestess silently exited through a side door, leaving the group of them in the temple. 

Orlon rose first, as was traditional, then the rest of the family followed suit— Rowan and Aelin remaining until everyone had left. 

Rowan offered his hand to Aelin, pulling her up from the seat. “I was told we were going back to the palace before we left for the night.” 

Aelin felt herself heat at the reminder of what might happen— or what she hoped— would happen tonight. 

“I guess so.” She stood in the aisle, watching Rowan. “I don’t feel any different.” She didn’t, really. The mating bond had been accepted weeks ago and though it was now officially recognised in the eyes of the Gods… she really didn’t feel any different. 

Rowan’s eyes lit with laughter. “Neither do I.” He brought her in, his arms coming around her in a loving embrace. He kissed the top of her head. 

“I thought I would feel some great force or something— like when I first felt the bond. But really it’s the same.” 

Rowan held her tighter. “It’s mostly for show. A tradition that dates back thousands of years— I suppose as part of the royal family we had to follow that tradition.” 

Aelin hummed a response, pulling back to look at Rowan. “At least we get our night together.” 

Rowan’s body tensed slightly before he looked at her. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” 

Aelin shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it since it almost happened that one time.” 

Rowan choked out a laugh. “Gods, what am I going to do with you?” 

She winked at him. “I can think of a few things.” 

[blu-joons]

When He Falls In Love With A Sunbae ~ Got7 Reaction

Mark:

Ever since the two of you announced your relationship you were often met with comments about your professional lives. To begin with, you tended to ignore them, but as time passed, it became more and more relentless.

“Have you seen some of these?” You asked Mark, passing your phone across for him to have a look. “Why are some people so hung up about the fact I’m your senior?”

His shoulders shrugged back at you, “we don’t let it bother us, so it shouldn’t bother any of the fans. I don’t care that you’re my senior, you know that don’t you?”

He pulled you down against his chest as you nodded. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re my junior either, I just wish that other people could see that.”

“Let’s not focus on it, it’s not what it is important right now.”

“We’re in a relationship, that’s all it is.”

Mark nodded in agreement, “you’re a senior, but you’re more importantly my love, and no comments will ever change that.”

“I know I shouldn’t let them bother me,” you frowned, “I can’t help it.”

“Just ignore them, and listen to me instead.”

JB:

His eyes looked around as soon as the interviewer mentioned your name and the relationship the two of you shared. You both were used to it, but it never made it an easier situation for either of you to handle.

“I respect her as my partner and my senior,” Jaebum responded, “I use it to my advantage and get a lot of support from her. She knows the business a lot better than I do.”

The interviewer nodded back at him, “does she ever remind you that you’re a junior? I’m sure your other members must tease you about your relationship a lot.”

Jinyoung’s head shook beside him, “we also love that Y/N is a senior, we make sure to treasure all the advice she has, and outside of work, we love having her as JB’s partner.”

“Do you ever find it hard to balance your professional and private life?”

“We know when to draw the line.”

The interviewer nodded back at him, “do you ever worry about the pressures of being a junior to Y/N at work?”

“She treats me well,” he grinned, “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“That’s a lovely thing to say.”

Jackson:

Your eyes raised across at him as he made a joke in his live about you. Straight away he knew he was in trouble by the way you looked at him, muttering to the fans as he knew he was about to get a scolding.

“Shall I remind you that you’re a hoobae?” You teased, poking your tongue out across at him. “You’re not supposed to speak about me so poorly, especially in front of fans.”

His shoulders shrugged, “I’m pretty sure there’s got to be an exception in that rule somewhere for girlfriends. I’d be a rubbish boyfriend if I didn’t tease you.”

Your head shook back at him, “did no one ever tell you that having a girlfriend who is also a sunbae requires you to be even more aware about how you speak to them.”

“You’ve made that up, there’s no way that would be an actual rule.”

“Do you want to try it and see?”

He shrunk down in his chair, “no, I guess I should apologise for being so rude to a sunbae, it will never happen again.”

“That’s much more like it,” you smiled, “you’re supposed to praise seniors.”

“I always praise you to the fans.”

Jinyoung:

His presence beside you caused you to stop what you were doing on your laptop as he walked over to you and placed a piece of paper down. You quickly picked it up to see lyrics scribbled down that he’d been working on.

“These look good,” you smiled once you’d finished reading through them all, “but why are you showing me? Aren’t you supposed to keep these things a secret until it’s released?”

His head shook back at you, “as my senior, I wanted you to look over them first and give me your opinion on them. I just wanted to know what you thought of them.”

Your eyes glared back across at him, “we’ve talked about this before, I don’t want to be your senior, one day you’ll learn to stop calling me that and speak to me properly.”

“But I love getting a reaction out of you, I know it winds you up.”

“You should respect your seniors them.”

He walked over, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I do respect you but enjoy winding you up a lot more than that.”

“You really are impossible sometimes,” you frowned, “what a terrible junior.”

“I’m the best junior, don’t lie to me.”

Youngjae:

You’d been unusually quiet for most of the night with Youngjae, each time he looked across at you he could tell that something was wrong, eventually asking you what the problem was as the two of you headed to bed.

“I feel like everyone is stuck on the fact I’m your sunbae,” you admitted, “it’s like people fail to realise that there’s so much more to the two of us than a senior and junior relationship.”

Youngjae laid down beside you, wrapping his arm around you, “we’ve never let it bother us before, so why now? It doesn’t phase me that you’re my sunbae, does it bother you?”

Your head shook back at him, “I just know what people are saying and it sucks. It makes me feel like sometimes you’re just going to leave one day.”

“Why would I ever dream of that? That’s never a reason to go.”

“Does it not bother you?”

Straight away, his head shook. “I love the fact you’re my sunbae, it means I always have someone to help me, it’s the best feeling.”

“You really mean that?” You sighed, resting yourself against his chest gently.

“Of course, from the bottom of my heart.”

BamBam:

You sighed yet again as you messed up reading through your script in front of BamBam. He struggled to hide the smile on his face each time you fluffed your lines, continuously reassuring you when things went wrong.

“I’m not supposed to be like this,” you huffed, throwing your script aside, “I’ve been doing this long enough to know how to say a few lines to the camera, it’s not even a big deal.”

Bambam nodded beside you, “you’re the senior you’re supposed to be the one with all of the experience, and yet every time I’ve read your script, I’ve got it done perfectly.”

You reached across to hit his arm lightly, “you’re supposed to be supporting me not making me feel worse. No one likes hoobaes who show off BamBam.”

“I’m just giving you a bit of encouragement as someone who looks up to you.”

“You could just do it for me?”

His head shook instantly, “let’s just keep going over it for a while, I’m sure that when it comes to the night, you’ll absolutely ace it.”

“It doesn’t feel like it right now,” you admitted, “I’m going to mess up.”

“No, you won’t, I’ll make sure you get it right.”

Yugyeom:

You felt your stomach drop as you sat to dinner with Yugyeom and his family, listening to how his aunt teased him repeatedly about the fact that you had ended up debuting a year before him, leaving him as your junior.

“It really makes no difference in our relationship,” you smiled once she’d finished talking, “we’re respectful of each other, our positions professionally make no difference to anything.”

Her expression dropped, “but don’t you think you’re the one who holds all the power as his senior, Yugyeom’s the man, he should be the senior who guides you instead.”

Your head shook as you felt Yugyeom’s hand slide into yours, “I never treat him as a junior, and I don’t want him to treat me as a senior, it’s unimportant to us.”

“We support each other, that’s what matters right now.”

“You really think so?”

Your head nodded, glancing across at Yugyeom who was still silent. “I’m proud of him, regardless of when he debuted, he’s just as successful as me.”

“She’s successful too though,” he finally spoke, “she’s good at what she does.”

“We’re both good, that’s what makes this team work.”

---

Masterlist

[helloyesimrhys]

ACoTaR crack headcanons

CASSIAN Definitely bisexual Paints his nails black ‘for the aesthetic’ but actually he just thinks the cold nail polish feels nice before it dries We’ve already established this but girl dad Writes Nessian fanfiction (not even smut he just writes fluff) He canonically wears leather jackets so I can’t really put it in but fuck that Either drinks black coffee or a mocha latte with three pumps of vanilla, no in between NESTA Also bisexual Wears lingerie to bed just to tease Cassian Beats the shit out of everyone except for Az in cards Gwyn is her ‘if I had to pick a chick’ only Nesta literally would pick her So good at dancing but most of the time when asked to dance she just bobs from side to side. If you’re lucky she might throw in a lil shuffle Takes wrapping presents so goddamn seriously it’s not even funny Would definitely sniff presents to find out what’s inside Again, she canonically reads textbooks for fun so I can’t really put it in but fuck that ELAIN Should have been a lesbian If you ask her what her favourite colour is she’ll panic Actually enjoys doodling, but like tiny little drawings Draws on her hand when bored Has a very elaborate skin care routine Hates coriander Puts highlighter on the tip of her nose AZRIEL Wears graphic t-shirts Mom friend Makes self-deprecating jokes *points to rubbish bin* Haha me Actually despises water, lives on coffee instead Makes surprisingly good pasta Allergic to shellfish Really likes the colour green (but like sage green) GWYN Chaotic good Really good at art but doesn’t like to show anyone Obsessed with opossums and raccoons but she doesn’t know why “Hey is it hot in here? Oh sorry that’s just me” Uncomfortable with the idea of being in a relationship, sorry in advance to any Gwynriels out there :/ Says live laugh love ironically but does it so often that it’s become unironic Definitely not straight idc what anyone thinks EMERIE Absolutely drop dead gorgeous A queen Such a good cook Has an amazing memory most of the time but will forget to drink water for two days straight Wears glittery gold nail polish Completely oblivious to her own crush on Mor When she finally realises that she’s in love she asks Nesta to ask Cassian to ask Mor if she has a crush on Emerie When Mor says yes Emerie freaks out and spends the next three consecutive nights at the House with Nesta and Gwyn just planning the perfect time to ask Mor out FEYRE Occasionally goes through a crisis and dyes her hair some random colour Absolutely amazing at buying presents, even for people she barely knows Literally buffer than Rhysand Spoils Nyx rotten Lawful neutral Can do eyeliner in one stroke MOR Has a British accent and if you think otherwise idk what to tell you Loves Halloween but never knows what to go as Well aware that Emerie has a crush on her Shaves her armpits but nowhere else Has really short fingers ;-; Somehow smells fine after a workout no matter how much she was sweating Unironically says ‘ello luv *bites lip* sheeeeesh

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Under My Skin: Chapter 5

Words = 9k

Summary = You’ve been kidnapped by the First Order and Poe wants needs you back

Warnings = No fun warnings I’m sorry! There is a happy ending, but before we get there it’s, kidnapping, forced drugging, aftermath of that, general pain, hurt/comfort, violence, hospital setting. I think that’s everything? Please, please, please let me know if I’ve missed anything - this got a lot darker than I intended (if you have any questions before you read, just shoot me a message and I’ll let you know!)

A/N = Sorry this chapter took so long - i think it might have actually killed me. But we’re at the end! Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who’s read this far, and stuck with the story, I love you all!  

Also special thanks to @michaelperry who beta’d this like a month ago and gave me some really good advice! 

Posted to AO3

Chapter 1   Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

***

When you wake, it’s cold. You're in a chair, hands strapped to the arms. It takes you a long time to open your eyes; your head is pounding and the bright lights shining on you are complicating matters.

The room swims slowly into focus as you blink, feeling like there’s glue on your lash line each time you try and open your eyes.

The room is a bright white, smelling faintly of chemicals and you keep blinking, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. You move your head slightly, trying to think. There’s something just floating outside of your consciousness, something important you should be remembering, but every time you grab for it, it floats away.

You don’t know how long you sit like this, drifting in and out of consciousness, with little to no perception of what’s around you.

When there’s a loud slam, your whole body jerks forward in shock, but there’s nowhere to go. You’ve begun to lose most of the feeling in your arms, but your mind is beginning to feel clearer. Now you can hear a whirring beneath you, the slight vibration letting you know you’re on a ship, and it’s already in flight. How long have you been traveling for? You’re still cold, goosebumps up and down your arms as your teeth chatter slightly.

You focus on the person standing behind you, not bothering to turn your head. “It’ssnot polite … to … to slam t’door, y’know,”  You're shocked when your voice comes out more slurred than you meant it to.

The figure behind you just laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. They walk forwards slowly, a cloak wrapped around their body, hood off. He seems a little familiar to you but you’re not sure why.

The room is coming more and more into focus, like someone’s turned up the intensity of your vision, and you can see that there are cupboards lining the wall in front of you, various tables and medical equipment visible.

The man had pale skin, ginger hair, although he was starting to lose it, his hairline creeping back in a subtle widow’s peak. He smiles, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh dear. Struggling to talk?” His tone is mocking as he leans towards you.

Your mouth feels dry, like it’s been stuffed of cotton wool and you can’t think. You can’t remember … anything. How did you end up here? Who is this horrible man in front of you? Why does he look familiar?

You try to talk again. “Wha’ve’oou givenee?”

It’s a struggle to manipulate your mouth fast enough to separate your words, your tongue clumsy in your mouth, but you try. “Wha’ve you givenee? Given? Given. Me?”

“It’s wearing off, good good. Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll be able to talk properly in around …” he looks at his wrist, considering. “Maybe 15 minutes?”

Sweetheart.

That feels familiar - why?

The man takes a seat, a much comfier looking one than the one you’re sat on, looking prepared to wait. He’s calm, shuffling through papers and clattering objects around. You try and pull it together, closing your eyes in an attempt to concentrate. You have 15 minutes before something’s going to happen. He wants you to be able to talk … so … so … so why can’t you think?

He wants you to tell him about the resistance.

Of course. The resistance. He needs information … and suddenly fear shoots down your spine.

Except obviously you won’t give him what he wants. So he’s waiting because…?

Why can’t you think?!

Someone else used to call you sweetheart.

And suddenly there’s a tan face in your memory, grinning at you and calling you sweetheart. And you can remember feeling frustration, but it’s different. This memory-frustration, it’s like a warm bubble inside you, rising and bursting as you call the man an idiot.

His hair is amazing.

You know his name. You know you do. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue - …

The man in the chair coughs, and the face flies out of your head, leaving a sharp pain in your chest instead. Why?

And gradually, you’re also becoming aware of a throbbing pain in your head. You don’t know what the cause is, whether you hit your head, or if it’s something as simple as dehydration.

There’s a high-pitched beep and the man sits up in his chair.

Poe.

You nearly gasp his name out, stopping yourself at the last second. But why does thinking about him hurt?

The man doesn’t seem to realise your inner conflict, or if he does, he doesn’t care, instead scraping his chair across to sit in front of you. “So sweetheart, let’s run through some basics. I’ll ask you a couple of questions to test where you are, then we’ll see what you know.”

You can smell his breath. It’s minty, matching his too-white teeth, and you hate it. You hate him. You already know you won’t answer a single one of his questions.

“Name?”

You nearly laugh, they don’t know your name?

“Sweetheart tell me what your name is, so I know that the drug is out of your system.”

You just blink at him, in that split second deciding on your tactic. Absolute silence.

You don’t get a reaction from him, however, instead he moves onto the next question.

“Date of birth?”

It takes an effort to not automatically respond, but you don’t change your expression.

The man just sighs again.

“Do you know who I am?”

You don’t, but you don’t reply.

“My name is General Hux and I am to deliver you and Poe Dameron to Kylo Ren.”

General Hux. And suddenly you remember Poe telling you something.

You laugh, unable to stop yourself. “You mean General Hugs? Aww you’re my favourite, I’m flattered that you of all people in the First Order would come to find me.”

You get the first flicker of annoyance crossing the man’s face. Then it resolves itself, and he grins. “So you can talk clearly now,” he stands, scraping the chair over the floor. “Good, good.” Opening one of the cupboards he pulls out some clear liquid in a large jar and a couple of bags, placing them onto a small table with a clatter, which he pushes towards you.

And all at once, with a heavy thud in your chest as the memory flashes across your eyes, you remember what you said to Poe. And that after, you walked into the forest-

You love him.

Fuuu-

Your line of thought is interrupted by the man saying your name. You clench your fists, suddenly aware of how cold your fingers are. You’re an idiot.

“You better start answering my questions now.” The man sits back in front of you, pulling the table next to him. And now you can see what’s in the bags. Absolutely enormous needles attached to syringes.

Your throat goes dry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuck!

You try to squash the fear, instead baring your teeth in a grin. “Why? Will General Hugs be cross?”

For good measure, you add a pout in, and maker, you’ve never been so glad to be a piece of work.

“I will. And you won’t like me when I’m cross.”

You ignore the flash of fear you feel, instead concentrating on moving your feet inside your shoes in a futile attempt to warm them up. Your laugh is cold. “Oh I think I’ll be ok.”

He picks up a syringe, carefully unwrapping it, before drawing some clear liquid into it. You continue, ignoring his attempts to intimidate you. “After all, I don’t like you very much now, so I can’t even imagine what you could do to me to make me hate you more.”

He ignores you, tapping the syringe and watching a bubble float to the top. “Do you know what this is?”

Be annoying.

“Well if it’s the same thing as the first one you gave me, I wouldn’t recommend it because then I’ll just pass out again and you won’t get a coherent answer out of me, will you?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, those people had nothing to do with the First Order. They just needed the money.”

“So the First Order don’t even have the manpower to come and get me yourself?” You tut. “Standards are slipping.”

“Mouthy bitch, aren’t you?” He’s still playing with the syringe, and you can’t help but eye the needle warily. “No, this is different. Lowers your inhibitions, your perceptions. You’ll tell me things you don’t even realise.”

“Ahhhh so you see, you’ve made a mistake there.” You’re talking rubbish, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, in full flow now. “I don’t have any inhibitions, anyone will tell you that I’m utterly shameless so I just, I really, really don’t think it’ll worth giving it to me, it just won’t work, and who knows how much the drug cost and what a waste, I really don’t think you, the great General Hugs would be hap-”

Your steady stream of consciousness is stopped when he slaps you with a resounding crack, your head flying to one side.

Pain immediately blooms on the side of your face, and you have to blink away a few tears from the impact.

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know, silly girl, I need to find out where Poe Dameron is and-”

You interrupt with another laugh, and maybe that first injection addled your brain more than you thought it did, because that truly was a stupid thing to do. You’ve never acted like this before, and yet there’s a small voice in the back of your head telling you that Poe would be proud, so you keep going.

“You don’t know? So it’s pure luck that you found me - no wait, that I was delivered to you! Maker I love being right, standards really are slippi-”

The second slap hurts more than the first.

You sit there for a second in dumb shock, blood pooling in your mouth from the blunt force.

When Hugs rips your sleeve up your left forearm, holding the needle against your skin, you start to twist your wrist in it’s cuff, desperate to get away. You can see your wrist turning red, and your hand is starting to hurt from the force you’re using.

Hugs doesn’t waste any time though, using one cold hand to hold your wrist above the cuff still, gripping it tightly, he plunges the needle in with the other. When the needle pierces your skin, it hurts, you can feel the liquid soaking into your muscles and traveling up your arm.

The effect of this drug isn’t immediate, and so you sit there for a moment, arm aching, determined not to show how much this hurts. You turn your head to the other side and spit out the blood in your mouth, the red a bright contrast on the sparkling floor.

A mix of saliva and blood trails from your lips, and you explore your mouth with your tongue, finding the area where your teeth cut the inside of your cheek. You remove your tongue immediately upon finding it, not needing to add further pain to another area of your body.

Stars but the needle hurts.

“Do you-?” You nod towards your arm, naively hoping that Hugs will remove the needle. “Do you mind removing the needle, I mean-”

You stop talking when you move your fingers by accident and a stab of pain shoots up your arm.

Fuck the needle is massive too.

Hugs just grins, and the movement looks unnatural as he stretches stiff facial muscles, leaning back into his chair, tidying up the instruments on the table. “Maybe you’ll learn some manners,” is all he says.

“I thought - … I thought you wanted me to talk?” Your body is starting to hurt now, and it’s starting to be a struggle to speak again.

Except now you can feel the drug’s effect. It’s hardly noticeable at first, but gradually, gradually, the pain is receding. And the effect of this drug is different to the last, it’s lifting you up, making everything dream-like and fuzzy.

Everything thankfully stays in your mind, although you can’t help but giggle. Something’s funny.

“Tell me about General Dameron.” Hug’s voice is stern as he leans towards you and all you can do is let out another giggle.

General. He’s just Poe. Your Poe.

“I don’t know anything about him.” You’re such a bad liar. You’re trying to keep your face innocent and blank, but giggles keep rising up, and you’re sure it’s ruining the effect.

“I think you do.”

You giggle again. Maker this is good fun. Dimly, you register that your arm doesn’t hurt anymore and you stare as you wiggle your fingers, only feeling a faint thrum through your arm.

“Well you think wrong.” Are you singing? Singing sounds like fun.

“Can you confirm he stole kyber crystals alongside you a cycle ago?”

Fuck and you remember that mission so well. It was such a disaster. But as funny as this situation is, it remains in your mind that the man in front of you is a very bad man, and you can’t tell him anything.

“Answer me.” The command is sharp and stern, and you don’t like it. Hugs is mean. With a name like Hugs, he should really be nicer. You’d think he would be cuddlier, like a teddy bear. Instead he’s all sharp angles and words.

You pout. “No.” He’s so rude. Why should you answer him anyway? “Don’t you know? Me and Dameron hate each other - I know nothing about him.”

The phrase feels so familiar on your tongue, yet something about it is clunky, old-fashioned. The denial is an old friend of yours, and maybe you should have pushed down your feelings for him in the same way, and maybe you would already be feeling better. This pain in your chest is too much.

I don’t love Poe Dameron.

Even in your head it sounds flat.

Another slap to your face twists your head the opposite way. This one doesn’t hurt, you only notice it from the movement of your head.

“Answer me.” The commanding tone breaks through your dreamy haze. You have no idea what the question was, but you can feel a liquid pooling at the corner of your mouth. You blow out slightly, feeling a bubble forming.

The safe option is a petulant “No.”

“You will.”

“I will not.”

This is actually quite a fun game - the more you refuse, the more visibly annoyed Hugs gets. He’s trying so hard to stay calm, to stay in control, but you can see it in the twitch of his fingers. It kind of reminds you how Poe used to fight his annoyance towards you, the only difference being that Poe never moved to hurt you.

The questions continue for what feels like hours and hours. You have no perception of time, or how long has passed, only that you’re hungry and thirsty, and Hugs keep giving you more of this drug. You can’t remember what you say in response to the questions, but the one thing you keep in mind is not to tell them anything.

And one by one, each of your friends appears tauntingly in front of you, Rey chasing her head around the room, Rose uncontrollably floating above you like a balloon, Poe looking suspiciously normal, although with heavier eyebrows than usual, causing him to frown more. He upsets you first, telling you he’s glad you’re not friends, before saying that he hates you, he always has, he was just taking pity on you, that sleeping together was just stress relief. And then he sprouts wings, turning into an eagle, flying around the ceiling, where Rose was minutes before, except now you’re sobbing.

You’re aware that you’re hallucinating, each of them have a suspiciously shiny quality to them, a shimmer at their edges. But the idea of Poe telling you he hates you, that you never meant anything to him … it hurts.

Gradually, gradually, you can feel a tug of darkness at the edges of your mind, and everything inexplicably hurts, so you let it take you, if only so you won’t hurt anymore.

***

Back at base, Poe had never felt so out of control before. He’d always struggled with impulse management, the answer usually so clear in his mind. Suit up, jump into his x-wing, blow the problem up.

He couldn’t blow this problem up.

Everyone was moving so fast around him, yet they didn’t seem to be doing anything. You weren’t back, so they couldn’t be. Poe felt almost detached, looking down on his body surrounded by everyone who was working hard to find you.

He made his way to his x-wing, though he didn’t remember getting there. He was holding his flight suit, and some part of him was aware that he had to put it on if he wanted to fly.

“Poe.” The voice was familiar behind him.

Turning, he saw Leia standing behind him, a look of pity on her face. “Droids have tracked the lieutenant through the forest where she was joined by two others, identity unknown as of yet.”

Poe nodded. Numbness was spreading through him, he could hardly move, the idea of speaking was laughable.

“There were signs of a struggle, but we’ll find her Poe.”

What if she doesn’t want to come back? She’s not my friend.

“Poe.” There was a hand on his shoulder. It takes a great deal of effort for him to focus on Leia in front of him. Her hand was touching him, and it felt so familiar to yours, and yet so different, in almost every way that felt like it mattered. “It’ll be ok.”  

“I’ve got to go.” He was going to get you back, hell or high water.

In fact, it didn't even matter if you didn’t want to come back with him.

Poe shakes his head, “We’re not friends!” still ringing in his mind.

You were going to come back to the base if Poe had to drag you, if only so he could have a proper conversation with you before you left for good.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been flirting with the recruit until you’d turned up, and then suddenly you’d commanded his whole world view. How competent and confident you’d looked, hitting the target with each of your shots, before he’d come to the conclusion that you were jealous.

By that point, you’d already stalked away, shoulders tight with a scowl on your face. He had been able to see your lie, that you really were jealous, as soon as the words had left your mouth, your denial too strong, too protective.  

But why? Why didn’t you want him to know you were jealous? As far as Poe was concerned, it was kind of hot.

You couldn’t run away, or die before Poe got the answers.

You couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it.

He stooped to pull the flight suit on, shrugging off Leia’s hand.

“Poe I’m not letting you chase after her.”

Poe ignored her, instead bending slightly and concentrating on doing up the buttons and various zips.

“Poe listen!”

General Organa was speaking now, not Leia, and it made Poe stop, straightening automatically.

“I am not giving you permission to leave base. Rey and Finn have already left.”

Poe steps towards Leia, and stars he feels angry.

“I am the best flyer in the resistance and you’re grounding me?”

He ignores the way his head spins when he remembers the look on your face that night you’d told him he was the best flyer, how you’d said his mum would be proud of him, how-

He shakes his head, not wanting the memory right now, blinking hard as tears well in his eyes.

“Yes.” His fingers flex at his side at Leia’s calmness.

“Why not?” He doesn’t want to snap at Leia but he had to get you back. He was going to murder those bastards who took you … if they had hurt you … “I can’t lose her, Leia, I can’t.”

“You’re not in the right headspace right now, and I can’t risk-”

Poe laughs, cutting Leia off and it’s not nice. It’s a little loose and a little mad, louder than it needs to be. “You can’t risk what? Losing me?” He bends again, this time tightening the harness straps around his legs and they’re tight, too tight. “I can’t risk losing her, Leia.” He takes a deep breath, shaking fingers attempting to loosen the straps, attempting to take back control. “I c-an’t.”

Leia’s heart broke as Poe’s voice cracked. For the first time in a long time, she saw the young boy who had come to the Resistance as soon as he was able, desperate to prove himself and throw himself into the middle of the fight.

So she steps forwards and hugs him. “I know, I know.” Leia can feel Poe trembling.  “But you charging off with half a brain isn’t going to fix anything.”

Poe allows himself to be held, head empty for a moment. He feels exhausted, yet every nerve within him is wired up to go, although he doesn’t know where. An indeterminate amount of time passes before Poe realises that Leia is probably doing all she can to stall him.

When this thought trickles down into his mind, he steps back. Perhaps because Leia can read him like a book, or perhaps because she really does want to help, she offers a small smile. “Come with me.”

Poe doesn’t have much chance to reply before Leia’s steering him by his elbow, keeping a tight grip on him. He’s led to comms, a room he’s aware of, but has never been in before.

Rose is sitting, hovering over a comm worker who Poe’s unfamiliar with. They’re sitting at a messy workstation with a number of small screens, a mess of wires cascading out of the back. The comms worker has an earphone in one ear, while the big centre screen is turned on, showing what appears to be Rey and Finn’s position.

There’s a pain in Poe’s chest as he looks at the other, empty, workstations. This is what you're worth to the Resistance. One comms worker and a friend.

Rose stands, flinging her arms around him. She’s talking, but there's a buzzing in Poe’s ears and he’s missing some. “... she’ll be alright.”

Rose has drawn back, and it’s like the bubble has popped around Poe, bringing him back to the present. He nods, suddenly aware of how hard Leia is still holding onto his arm, and briefly wondering if he’ll have bruises.

Poe picks up his own set of earphones and moves to power up the next screen over, clicking through to Rey’s comms, mind clearing as he and the comms worker start to talk through it.

After all, Poe’s always been good under pressure, blocking out all distractions, including Leia’s instructions to the droid by the door not to let Commander Dameron leave until the Lieutenant was back.

***

When you wake, you’re alone. The drug, whatever they gave you has worn off, and your headache has returned. You’re shaking, covered in sweat. When you try and make a fist with your good arm, you can barely apply enough pressure to close your hand.

You’re still strapped to the chair and unable to move your arms. When you glance down at your left arm, the blood makes your stomach turn. Everything seems sharper than it did before, more pronounced edges, yet the surfaces have lost their colour, looking duller.

Your mouth is dry and you know that if you could have some more of the drug, just a little, you’d feel better. But there are more pressing concerns; you need to get out of here.

Your feet are on the floor, good. Your head itches, and your ribs ache like you’ve been hit around the stomach. There’s something dried on your chin, irritating your skin, tightening it.

It’s hard to think, it’s so cold in here, like the ice is numbing your brain. Your headache is pounding behind your eyes and doesn’t help. But you try to stand, thinking you’ll attempt a turtle-like shuffle to the door.

Except you can’t.

You try again, bracing your feet against the floor and trying to stand. It takes you longer than it should to realise that it’s not working because you’re pressing down with your arms too.

You slump back into the chair with enough force to cause it to move, trying to catch your strength, panting heavily and not sure what else to do.

It takes you longer than it should for you to realise what that means, the thought barely trickling down into your mind.

Ok.

With a lot of careful angling and heavy slumps, you manage to twist the chair so it’s facing the door. It’s made of the same material as the walls, barely distinguishable apart from a keypad and metal grille.

Which Rey and Finn are looking at you through.

You sigh. Great. That’s what you need right now, more hallucinations. They look shocked, faces slack, until Rey disappears and Finn smiles reassuringly at you.

Briefly you wonder if Rey’s gone because her head fell off again. Then you consider if your hallucinations can get any weirder.

The next thing you know the door is swinging open, creaking slightly on its hinges and Finn’s rushing over to you, Rey poking around behind you.

“Can you stand?” Finn’s asking, looking down at you, brow furrowed. You can only nod in response, although you’re not confident in your answer. Your limbs are stiff, and even now you can move, it’s a struggle.

There’s a brief pain flickering in your left arm, and you focus on not looking at it, remembering the amount of blood. It takes Finn’s arm around you to help you stand, and you can’t help the gasp of pain that escapes you. Your vision goes dark for a second, before returning, duller than ever.

***

Finn knew what the First Order was capable of, especially when they wanted information from someone, but it was never any easier to see. Especially when it was someone he cared about.

He watched you struggle to coordinate your legs, having been kept in the same position for hours. Rey moves ahead, drawing her lightsaber in anticipation while Finn half carries you down the hallway.

He’s worried at the amount of blood you’ve lost from your arm, but your face is swollen and bruised, with dried blood at the corner of your mouth, and staining the collar of your shirt. You’re still conscious, just about, but your eyes don’t seem to be focusing.

The three of you pass the bodies of the two stormtroopers who were unlucky enough to be guarding your corridor, before sneaking out. Ducking into alcoves, they attempt not to be caught, although it’s hard to stop you from making noise.

If it’s not moans of pain, you’re commenting on something under your breath, and what little Finn can hear doesn’t seem to make sense. The look on Rey’s face tells him that she doesn’t get it either.  

And they’re so close, nearly back to the hangar, when a pair of troopers spot them. Rey is already swinging as Finn rushes to put you down before he can draw his lightsaber and help. The fight is desperate, but brief. Thankfully no alarms seem to be going off, although that thought flies from Finn’s head when he looks back at you.

You’ve slumped against the wall where Finn had placed you, and you’re shaking as you try and stay sat upright. You’re no longer looking at them, instead your brow is furrowed, concentrating on something only you can see in front of you.

Finn isn’t entirely sure how they managed to make it onboard, but he wasn’t about to complain, carefully strapping you to help keep you upright if you faint. He uses the small med-kit to wipe away the blood from your face and arm as best as he can, applying bacta patches where he can see injuries, the familiar sweet smell soon filling the small ship.

Rey is quickly in hyperspace, comming back to base with their status. “Blue-10 with the Lieutenant, medical attention will be needed on arrival.”

Both Rey and Finn jolt with surprise at the familiar voice crackling through the comms in response. “Received and understood Blue-10.���

“Poe?” Finn mouths, and Rey just shrugs. A second later, Poe’s switched to a private channel, his voice quiet.

“How is she?”

Rey and Finn look at each other, unsure how much Poe needs to know. They don’t want to lie, but how can they tell the truth? Rey clicks the private channel open, hesitating before she replies. “She’s stable Poe.”

***

Waking up hurts.

You’re lying down, and although your body hurts, you feel calmer. There’s a steady noise matching the beat of your heart, slow and steady, although the noise speeds up as you blink at the ceiling.  

You’re not sure if you’ve got a plan, but you know you need to get free. Something is holding you down, becoming more and more tangled around you, and your whole body hurts.

And then, suddenly the weight is pulled off you, and you feel like you can breathe again, big gasps failing to get more oxygen into your lungs. You struggle to control your breathing, not feeling ready to face whatever new terror the First Order have concocted for you.

It’s Rose. Holding a brown blanket.

You push yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the flare of pain in your arm, waiting for a second, hardly daring to breathe as you wait for her to change in front of your eyes.

When she doesn’t, you can feel some of the panic recede, although you can’t seem to force yourself to relax. Rose folds the blanket, placing it at the foot of your bed, and you watch her carefully, still wary.

When she meets your eyes, you attempt a smile, pain pulling at your mouth and cheek as you do so. You can tell it’s not convincing by the way she smiles back, tears flooding her eyes.

You look away, blinking heavily to stop your own tears.

Your head and shoulders are raised slightly, and when you look down, you’re wearing a paper-thin hospital gown. It’s scratchy against your skin, feeling like bugs burrowing into you. Rose is sitting next to you, tinkering with something she’s placed on your bedside table, hands hovering just above her lap, like she wants to help, but doesn’t want to overstep.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft. “How are you feeling?”

You nod, not sure what you’re feeling, exactly, just that your hands are shaking when you try and put them on top of the covers, that you’re shivering, and your stomach is rolling.

You open your mouth to tell Rose so, and you throw up.

It’s warm, and liquidy and the smell makes you throw up again, and again. Rose has jumped back, and you don’t blame her, rolling your body to your side so you can spit the rising bile out of your mouth onto the floor instead of onto the mess on your bed.

By the time you’ve stopped being sick, Rose is standing at the end of your bed with a pair of nurse-droids, who escort you to a bath, cleaning you up, and then to a different bed, this time with a bowl in reaching distance. You don’t say anything, hot shame creeping up your neck and face, and hoping, praying, that maybe you’ll pass out again, and you won’t remember this.

No such thing happens, and you’re left to be looked after by the droids. Rose never leaves you, although for the period of time you’re covered in sick, she does keep her distance, only returning when you’re clean in bed again, this time wearing a softer t-shirt and shorts.

It’s only when one of the nurse-droid’s returns, arms full that you notice it. It’s carrying a vase of flowers, which Rose later tells you is from your squadron, and, in it’s other hand, carries a familiar datapad, with a piece of paper on top and a chocolate pudding.

Poe’s been here?

You can’t stop the way your heart stutters in your chest at the thought, and although you want to smell the chocolate, you think that’s probably a good thing you can’t with the state of your stomach at the moment.

The nurse-droid hooks you up to various machines this time, inserting a drip into your non-injured arm, along with a heart monitor, and a couple of other machines you don’t know the purpose of.

Your head still hurts, and you’re shaking, but you try your best to listen to the doctor who checks your vitals are normal and tells you that you’re going to get worse before you get better. The drug they gave you is an addictive one, and the next 5 days are going to hurt.

She keeps telling you things, but you start to zone out as black spots appear in your vision. Rose is nodding in understanding at your side, so you don’t feel too bad, concentrating on just staying awake.

All you can think about is the drug and how light it made you feel, how quickly it made time pass. Every movement hurts, like you fell 50 foot out of an x-wing, but aside from your arm, you can’t see any physical damage.

You fall in and out of sleep, Rose a constant presence at your side. She’s tinkering with something the first few times you wake, and she explains what it is, and what’s wrong with it to distract you from the pain. You ask the occasional question, enjoying the steady sound of her voice, while yours is croaky and hoarse.

When you wake with a clearer head, the lights are dimmed to a soft yellow, and Poe is asleep, head resting on the foot of your bed. Rose is gone and you’re glad; you don’t know how long you’ve been in bed, and you hope she’s getting some rest or proper food.

His flight suit is wrapped around his waist, top half covered by a dark t-shirt. If you bend your head to a certain angle, the light catches on his necklace around his neck. Poe looks exhausted, his body twisted at a weird angle, thick stubble growing on his face, and eyes red-rimmed, even as he sleeps.

Trying not to jostle him, you reach out to the datapad and unfold the note Poe left on top, avoiding the chocolate pudding like the plague.

Enjoy the chocolate pudding, Finn is bullying me to get some rest.

I’ve downloaded a couple of holovids, see you soon Poe x

You’ve never seen his handwriting before, and it’s easier to read than you’d imagined, thinking he’d be the type to write in a messy scrawl, his hand unable to keep up with his thoughts.

It’s short, but something about it makes a warmth flare inside you. You read it until you know it off by heart, before folding it back up and placing it on the datapad.

You still feel tired, and you watch Poe sleep, the room silent except for the steady beeping of the machines at your side. You’re not sure how much time passes, the world around your bed feeling hazy as you half doze, not wanting to tear your eyes away from Poe, hardly daring to believe he’s real.

You jolt awake when he does, his arm reaching across your legs as he grasps your calves in a panic. One of the machines beeps increases with your heart rate, but you ignore it, you and Poe staring at each other, wide-eyed, as though a quick movement will make the other bolt.

His hands are still holding your legs, warm and grounding.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is hoarse as he slowly releases his hands.

You nod, and you hadn’t noticed it before, but your neck is stiff. “Good, I guess.”

Poe nods too, and where did this tension come from? He takes a breath as you look down at the hem of your blanket, idly wondering why the medbay would buy such a horrendous shade of brown.

Maybe it’s to hide stains.

You immediately wish you hadn’t thought that, the implications freaking you out a little, upsetting your sensitive stomach.

“I … I wanted to apologise.” Poe’s voice thankfully breaks through your increasingly worrying train of thought. His hand fly’s up to touch his ring. “I clearly crossed a boundary - I thought we were friends and -”

You interrupt him when you throw up, thankfully into the bowl the nurse-droid left this time, but it’s no less embarrassing as bile stings the back of your throat. Poe immediately moves up closer to you, hand reaching to rub your back as you try and hide in vain from him.

His hand is warm and comforting, moving slowly up and down your back as you continue to heave. When you finish retching, Poe silently hands you a glass of water, which you use to swill your mouth out, moving to place the now semi-full bowl to the other side of you when Poe takes it from you.

You can hardly bear to look at it, let alone smell it, and Poe is carrying it like it’s nothing, taking for the nurse-droids to dispose of. When he returns, he’s wiping his hands with a disinfectant and you wince.

“Poe I’m so sorry.” You decide to risk a sip of water, trying to get rid of the sick taste still in your mouth. “I’ve been sick all day and I’m sorry.” You’re ready to keep apologising but Poe just hands you a towel, which you use to wipe your mouth.

“It’s ok.” He reaches down for the blanket, and you let him tuck you in, suddenly aware that you’re shivering again. He reaches for his datapad, opening it and beginning to talk. He’s reading a children’s story, one you recognise as being from Yavin IV, a sweet story about a frog learning of the perils of the jungle.

Your eyes get heavier, and Poe’s voice fades into the background, the last you hear is the frog swimming in freshwater, unaware of the danger around the corner before you fall asleep.

***

When you wake, he’s gone, but you don’t get much chance to think about it before the nurse-droids are back, along with the doctor. She’s a nice woman, chattering away, telling you her name (Dr Alloso Karga), about her children (she’s got lots), and the trouble they get into (almost constant).

You don’t say much, still feeling the after-effects of the drug, but Dr Karga doesn't seem to need much additional input. You’re glad of her stories, they give you something else to think about while she hooks you up to an IV drip, and takes measurements from all the machines beeping at your side.

She unwraps the bandage around your left arm, revealing a thin scar running alongside one of your veins. “I’ll give you a cream to rub on every morning and night, and it’ll fade.” Her voice is kind as she watches your face, but you don’t react, numbness spreading through you like ice as you look at the scar.

All you can think is how small it is, when you remember the pain it caused, and the blood you lost from it … and now you’re left with this tiny, almost pathetic scratch. Dr Karga places the cream on your side table, next to Poe’s datapad and his note, and you already know you won’t use it.

Thankfully she doesn’t push the topic, leaving soon after.

With not a lot else to do, you fall back asleep, despite the bright light shining in through the window opposite you.

Days pass like this. Rose and Poe are frequent visitors, with Rey and Finn dropping in occasionally, as does Kare, and Jannah. No one seems to expect much of you, which is nice, allowing you to fall asleep at random intervals when the mood strikes you.

***

When you wake again you’re not sure how many days you’ve been in the medbay for. You don’t feel sick at all anymore, your stomach’s rumbling beneath the covers. Your head still hurts, and your body still feels bruised and achy, but your mind feels clearer than it has in days.

You’re still hooked up to a couple of machines, but only by a clip to your finger, wires extending down past the edge of your bed. It’s easy to take off, and you figure it’ll be easy to put back on again.

The chocolate pudding left by Poe has disappeared, and you suspect one of the nurses has binned it, which was probably a good idea. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you pause when a rush of cool air hits your bare legs.

You pad barefoot over the cold medbay floor, praying that it’s clean. There’s no one else in any of the other beds in your room, and when you look out, there doesn’t seem to be anyone next door either. A couple of hundred meters to your left, through the glass in a pair of double doors, you can see the busy reception. Meanwhile, to your right the corridor extends.

You shiver a little. You’re not wearing much, just shorts and a thin t-shirt. With no one around, you don’t feel too exposed, but you would quite like to get back to bed. You choose to go right, figuring you’d quite like to eat alone and save yourself any embarrassment if your stomach decides to reject food again and wander casually in quiet curiosity.

You peek through the windows of various spare rooms, some with people in bacta tubes, others with droids chittering away. And, it’s only when you turn the corner, that you see the food sign over the door to a small storeroom.

Letting out a happy little sigh at all the food lining the wall, you fumble for the light switch, the door closing and quickly engulfing you in the darkness.

Moving forwards you aim for the chocolate which has immediately caught your eye, letting out a shriek of panic when a hand lands on your shoulder.

Twisting around in panic, your bare foot catches on the corner of a shelf and you let out a howl of pain. You’re falling, and you’re gonna land on your injured arm when the stranger’s hands grab hold of your shoulders, righting you enough that you can catch yourself.

Muttering breathless ow’s of pain, you look up to see none other than Poe in front of you, his lips twisted in amusement.

“You alright?” He asks.

You can only nod, and before you feel any doubt about what you want to do, you fling your arms around his neck and hug him. He’s so sturdy, and here, and you finally feel semi-normal, and all you want is to be grounded.

Poe doesn’t say anything, just lets out a long-suffering sigh, wrapping his arms around you in response. It’s not until you feel his chest catch on a breath, that you unwind slightly, pulling back so you can see him.

He’s crying.

“Poe, Poe, it’s ok.” You wrap him back in your arms and let him cry. He just holds you tight, like he can’t believe you’re really here standing in front of him. Both too soon, and too late, he pulls back, wiping at his eyes.

“Why are you in here?”

It’s a genuine question, but you marvel at him for a second. “Why are you in here?”

Poe looks like he would quite like to say something he thinks is funny, but eventually lands on on a serious response. “I wanted to see what you were up to. You looked very shady.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I woke up, and I was starving.”

Poe stands next to you as you grab whatever looks good off the shelves, mainly chocolate, but also juice, and some sandwiches. “You should look after yourself.” His voice is gentle.

“I am!” You protest. “I need to eat.”

“You couldn’t have asked for help?”

You raise an eyebrow at him as the two of you move to the door. Poe follows you as you try to explain yourself. “No, I-”

You stop talking as you open the door by a crack, your eyes widening. Rose is stood in the room opposite, slightly blurred from the glass door, running her hand up and down Jannah’s arm, while the other is in a sling.

You gasp as you watch Rose lean forwards, placing a kiss on her lips, hushing Poe behind you. “Poe, Poe, Poe, look at this, are you watching?”

Your whisper is loud and you grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet, momentarily forgetting your aches, before quickly closing the door as Rose and Jannah move closer to kiss. You don’t want to invade their privacy too much.

When you turn, Poe’s grin grows as he takes in your face. “I knew it!” You dump the contents of your arms onto the floor, settling in for a while. “I knew they liked each other!”

He’s managed to get his leather jacket back from Finn, and he takes it off, laying it on the floor for you to sit on. You tuck your feet under you, glad to get them off the cold floor.

The two of you eat together, and you gain confidence as more time passes and your stomach seems to have settled, branching out to more flavourful foods.

Afterwards, he walks you back to your bed, carrying some spare food for you, with his leather jacket hanging off your shoulders. Poe calls a nurse-droid over to hook you back up to your machines and you pout at him in complaint. You’re starting to shake and sweat again but Poe stays for as long as he can, until he has to go to a meeting, promising he’ll be back soon.

He’s not gone for long, and you’re just starting to get bored, when Rose pokes her head around the door.

“Where have you been?”

You can’t help yourself; you grin like a cheshire cat.

“Where have I been? I think I should be asking you that!”

And there’s a definite blush rising on Rose’s neck, tinting her cheeks a faint pink. She still tries to deny though. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you draw it out, “I just so happened to be walking around earlier and was surprised to see that Jannah had managed to injure herself.”

Rose sighs and it’s long-suffering. And then she slumps into her chair, opens her mouth and tells you everything.

How she and Jannah had started to spend more time together, but they’d been friends for so long. How hugs for comfort turned into something more. How they’d kissed for the first time when Jannah had asked her out. And now, how it was turning into something more and, Rose’s voice went quiet here, she thought she might be in love.

“Oh Rose,” you sigh, your heart filling for your friend. “Are you gonna tell her?”

When she nods, it takes all your self-control not to jump up and hug her, instead settling for clasping her hands in yours. “I’m sorry.” Rose whispers. “Will you forgive me?”

Your heart stops, brief panic flickering in you. “What for?”

“That I didn’t tell you sooner.” A heavy sense of guilt starts to weigh down your chest, especially as Rose looks so distraught.

“No! It’s fine,” you try and convince her. “You wanted to wait until you were sure.”

Rose nods, but still looks upset, and you know what will cheer her up. “Besides, I'm not going to be cross. I kissed Poe.”

You wince at Rose’s shout. “What!” She stands, bending to give you a hug, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo. You grin, much more naturally now, glad she’s happy. You tell her everything in much the same way she told you, the first time you’d slept together, and then the next time, how you’d argued, what had happened in the store cupboard.

“Is he coming back?” Rose asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know. He said he would, but I don’t know when.”

Rose settles properly into her chair, resting her feet on the edge of your bed frame, looking smug. You last all of two seconds. “What?”

Rose just closes her eyes, looking more and more pleased with herself by the second. “I just love being right.”

You attempt to kick her, but there’s no malice behind it. You spend the rest of the time discussing the latest topic of interest on base (Snap and Kare’s wedding), and what a recruit had apparently said to Leia, laughing the whole time.

***

When Poe returns, he’s carrying two plates. Rose had left a while ago, and you were idly poking through Poe’s datapad, seeing which holovids he’d downloaded.

The two of you eat your dinner quietly, Poe finishing before you. “Can I ask you something?” He looks nervous in a way that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on him before, eyes shifting down, while his fingers dance nervously in his lap.

You nod, still chewing, not wanting to rush your dinner and unsure how to make Poe feel more at ease. You have a feeling you know what he’s going to ask, and -

“Can we be friends?”

Oh.

You swallow faster than you should, letting out a small cough. You place what’s left of your dinner to one side, and put your hands over his. “I shouldn’t have said that.” You start.

Poe opens his mouth to respond, but you shake your head before he can. “No, don’t - don’t say anything, just listen.”

Deep breath, in and out.

“What I meant was … friends don’t sleep together, Poe. And I know we never talked about it, but I didn’t realise how much I liked you and,” You take another deep breath and when you speak again, your voice is smaller than normal. “I didn’t like the way you flirted with that recruit.”

Poe grins with his teeth. “So you were jealous?”

You look away, not quite ready for that conversation. “Poe.” His name is a warning, and you’re tired.

So Poe lifts your hands, enveloping them in his and gently kisses them. “Sorry.” It’s a murmur. “When we realised you were gone, I’ve … I’ve never been so frightened. I begged Leia to go and find you but she wouldn’t let me.”

You look back at his face. “Good.” His smile is gentle now, and at this moment, you prefer it. “And I’m fine now, Rey and Finn found me …”

Poe rolls his eyes. “You are not fine, you’re in the medbay.”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat, fiddling with the hem of your sheet, and just when you think he won’t say anything else, he speaks again, his voice quiet and sure.

“I like you too. A lot. And I would quite like it if we could go on a date?”

You don’t reply immediately, letting a slow smile open up your face, nodding, suddenly shy. You want Poe closer, moving to the far edge of the bed and opening the sheet in a clear invitation. “C’mon, get up here.”

It says a lot, you later think, how keen he was to climb in next to you. His body is so warm and reassuring next to yours, a solid presence of real proof, that someone cares about you so much that it doesn’t matter how gross you are when you’re ill, they’ll stay for as long as they can.

You wait until he’s tucked in next to you, desperately ignoring how the machine behind you starts beeping faster. “I would love to go on a date.”

And then you groan. “This is so embarrassing.”

Poe laughs, his body shaking next to you. “You have to finally admit you fancied me all along.”

“Well so do you.”

You’re looking at Poe as you say it, and you don’t miss how his breath hitches a little. His face moves closer to yours, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips as your mouth suddenly feels dry.

Your heart rate speeds up again behind you, but you’re ignoring it, wanting Poe to kiss you. You’re disappointed when he speaks instead. “I like this monitor.”

His eyes are smiling, and stars he’s cute, even if he is being annoying.  

“What?” You’re confused, your eyes had been half-closed in preparation, and it takes a lot of effort to open them again.

“It tells me what you think.” You don’t stop looking at Poe’s lips as he talks.

“Yeah?” You’re breathless. “And what am I thinking right now?”

“That you like me this close.”

You hum, half-amused, half-annoyed. “Anything else?”

“I think you want to kiss me.”

You pretend to think about it, smiling back at him. “Do you?”

“Yes.” He’s so keen. “Do you?”

“I thought you knew the answer to that.” You’re teasing him, and he knows it. Your faces are closer than ever, breath mingling.

And Poe’s just looking at you like he could eat you, and it takes mere seconds before you crack. “Poe will you kiss me?”

“I was going to.”

You huff. “When?”

His hand cradles your jaw, thumb on your chin, and you bend into it, kissing his palm without breaking eye contact. “It won’t hurt you?”

You smile at him, reassured. “No.”

You can tell he’s still hesitant, so you kiss his hand again. “I’ll tell you if it hurts Poe.”

He inches closer and closer, so slowly, until his lips are touching yours. It’s soft, and gentle, like he’s kissing you for the first time. His hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, as you open your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The date is a success, with the worst part enduring Rose’s teasing, and your promise to never doubt her again.

***

Everything taglist:

@fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog

Series taglist

@lady-sigyn @foxilayde @afootnoteinyourhappiness @tellthemall-i-saidhi @wasicskosgirl @seninjakitey @zoriis @zazzysseoul @studentville-struggles

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Aaaaah I’ve finally finished! This has been such a blast to write (but not chapter 5 lmao) and I’ve learned so much about my writing style and what i struggle with (plot I’m looking at you). This series started as a short one-shot which was going to be divided into 4 sections, detailing how reader and Poe’s relationship changed, and what I’ve ended up with is so so so different - my original outline had no kidnapping and was wildly different honestly, but I’m really proud of this - back in June/July i hardly had the patience/concentration to sit and finish a one-shot, let alone a whole series! Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story, I love you all!

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hi! Could you write a story where it’s set in an abo setting with Sirius as the omega, and Remus & James are the alphas, and Peters the beta?? Maybe something like James gets jealous of Sirius and Remus’s friendship, so he “shuns” Sirius, which makes Sirius feel abandoned by his alpha?? Idk....I’m not good at saying what I have in my mind....😭😭

If James had been thinking logically, he would've realised that it wasn't flirting. He'd seen Sirius and Remus hanging out at their flat before he got home, and he'd gotten jealous without a first thought, let alone a second. If he had been thinking, he would've noticed that they weren't flirting. Or at least, Sirius wasn't. He had first hand knowledge with what Sirius looked like when he was flirting, and slumped over on the couch like that wasn't it.

If he'd been thinking even more, he would've remembered that Remus had never been interested in dating Sirius, and that Sirius had never been interested in dating Remus. He also would've realised that even if there was something going on there, they wouldn't have been doing it when they knew James was about to come home, and Sirius also wouldn't have been acting perfectly innocent-- he thought he had a poker face, but when it came to James, he most certainly did not.

James saw it, and his mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion, and all because Remus and Sirius were alone on the couch, enjoying each other's company. He was aware, in hindsight, how rubbish that sounded, alright? He just hadn't realised it at the time, because he hadn't been thinking.

"Hullo love," Sirius said when he noticed that James was home.

James smiled back automatically, but even he could tell that it was stiff.

Sirius's eyes flickered to Remus, then he made like he was going to get up.

"I'll be back in a second," James said, then ran off to change out of his work clothes.

He was erroneously upset that Sirius didn't follow after him to ask what was wrong.

*

Sirius snuggled close after they were in bed, and James shrugged him off, scooting away. "You okay?" he asked.

"It's a little warm," James lied.

"Alright," Sirius said easily, scooting back to his side of the bed. 'His' in the fact that he normally slept on the left side, and James normally slept on the right. They almost always ended up somewhere in the middle, and it's not as though James had ever minded in the past when Sirius would sleep on top of him-- unless he was sick, but that was a different issue altogether.

*

The next night, when James shrugged him off again, Sirius didn't bother to ask for an explanation; he just crawled away and turned his pillow sideways so he had something to cuddle with.

There were a hundred different little things that James was doing to push Sirius away, and he didn't even notice until after it was all done and settled. He moved when Sirius tried to touch him, he stopped reaching for Sirius altogether (where normally he'd happily pull him in for a quick kiss every time he thought he looked especially cute, which was often), and countless other things. In his defense-- what little defense he had-- he didn't know that he was doing it. He wanted a little space until he got over it, and it ended up being longer than he thought it would take. A lot longer.

"I think James doesn't want me anymore," Sirius said, trying not to sound too miserable and failing.

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said," Peter replied, not even looking up from the ingredient list on a cereal he was thinking about buying. "Since your previous winner 'James will say no if I ask him on a date'."

Sirius scowled at him. "This is no time for your sarcasm."

"It's no time for your melodrama, either. We're in the middle of grocery shopping."

"No, you are in the middle of grocery shopping. I am being a nice person and keeping you company."

"Whether you're shopping or not, you are still in the store with me. You can be dramatic as soon as we leave the building."

"I'm not being dramatic! James has been acting really sodding weird lately."

"Weird how?" Peter said, putting the box back on the shelf and grabbing his usual.

"He's giving me the cold shoulder. And as much as it makes me want to be annoying back to him, we're mated. He should be open to telling me what's bothering him. We're supposed to be past that. We're supposed to be mature enough that when there's a problem, we say it."

Peter frowned, actually pausing in his shopping to look over at Sirius. "Is he ignoring you?"

"I wouldn't say ignoring," Sirius said. "He responds when I ask him a question. But really Peter, he hasn't given me a hug in over a week! I'm going to die without James cuddles."

"That is pretty weird," Peter agreed. "Have you asked him about it?"

"No, because if he's planning on breaking up with me and I ask him, he's going to do it faster."

"James is never going to break up with you," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"You're no help."

"I don't know why you thought I would be."

Yeah, Sirius was wondering the same thing.

*

In spite of him hating Peter's advice and his own concerns over it, it's what he ended up doing.

He wasn't a sweet little omega, so he didn't even try to butter James up beforehand. And he wasn't a manipulative omega who liked to use his scentmarkers to try and force his alpha to do what he wanted. (His mother, incidentally, had tried to teach him how to do both of those so that he could choose his preferred method, and he was pretty sure he'd glared at her the entire time.)

Sirius just walked up to him and said, "Do you have some sort of problem with me?" the next time he saw James.

"What? No, of course not."

"Then you have a problem in general, and you need to get over it."

"I don't have a problem," James said defensively.

"When you start ignoring me, there's a problem, and you have been ignoring me. Do you want us to split?"

"No! Of course not."

Thank the gods. Biggest concern, over and done with. "Then what's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," James said, and the emphasis he put on 'me' immediately made Sirius suspicious.

"So you don't have a problem with me, and there's nothing wrong with you. Who's the problem, then?"

"Remus," James answered promptly, his expression taking on a sour note.

"Remus? What's wrong with Remus?"

"You like him."

"Er, yeah, we're mates."

"You fancy him."

"You've completely lost your senses," Sirius said promptly.

James blinked, taken aback.

"Really? You think me and Remus have something?"

"I-" James paused, frown deepening. "No?"

"You are ridiculous, you know that? I love you, but gods, you should learn to trust me a little more."

"I trust you."

"You thought I fancied Remus! Moony, of all the people."

"He's not that bad," James said, offended on Remus's behalf. "He'd be a great alpha to you."

"He's not you, you know that, right? I'm interested in only one knot-head, and it's you."

"Oh." James blinked a few more times. "Well now I feel stupid."

"You should. But only a little bit." He pulled him in for a hug, feeling like he was able to truly relax for the first time since this all started. "You know how insecure I can get, sometimes. It's only fair that you have a panic of your own." Sirius paused. "You only get one. You don't get to do this again. It drove me up the wall trying to figure you out."

James chuckled. "Fair enough. And- yeah, sorry about that. I didn't realise I was acting so barmy."

"You're forgiven. Though you might want to talk to Remus, make sure you haven't been weird with him too."

"I'm sure I was fine," he replied automatically. Then, a second later, he added, "Yeah, I'll do that." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sirius's cheek-- since Sirius was still holding onto him, with no intention of letting go anytime soon. "Thanks."

[chuckbass-love]

Johnny gives me rough childhood vibes. Maybe a fic about his childhood or why he acts the way he does

Hiya lovely anon! Right so again, i’m sorry for making everyone wait ages for their requests but i never want to rush them and have them be bad. So i like to take my time to plan out how i want to write them before i write. I hope this was worth the wait and i hope that you love it. I’ve followed the story of Johnny and Sue and what happened to their parents but i’ve changed the age of when it happened, sort of. It’s for the sake of the fic to make it work.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: You’ve been dating Johnny for a while now but you still don’t feel like you know him, the real him. So when you finally ask about his life growing up, he hesitates to open up.

Warning: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of murder (not much), mentions of depression, self harm and just all round dark. If any of these themes upset or trigger you then please don’t read. 18+

Word Count: 4,311

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @xo-tough-love-xo go check them out🥰

Demons Unmasked

Ever since you first met Johnny you knew there was something about him, something behind those eyes, an immense pain that he could never move on from or heal. But being his partner didn’t automatically earn you the right to know and he wasn’t exactly the best at opening up. So for a while you learned to let it all go and let him be the one to tell you whenever he felt ready.

You can still remember when you first asked him about what life was like for him and Sue. He’d clued you in very early on about his parents and the fact that they passed when he was younger. It was hard on him, he didn’t need to tell you that, you just knew. And since he barely shared any more details, it was obvious that the whole thing was still a sore subject. 

Sue pretty much raised him after that point and it wasn’t easy, she struggled day in and day out and worried like crazy about setting him on the right path and keeping him there. Gangs were all the rage and let’s just say it wasn’t an easy job to do to keep him far away. 

When you and Johnny first started dating, Sue pulled you to the side for a chat at dinner and gave you a heads up about everything. At first you didn’t get why but the more time you spent with Johnny, you realised that he was very guarded and she wanted you to be aware of what you were getting into. She wanted you to know that patience is key when it comes to him telling you things.

And over the last year you’ve really learned a lot about patience. You’ve been there in the middle of the night when he’d wake up from a nightmare that scared him so much that he struggled to sleep again afterwards. You’ve wiped the sweat from his forehead and held him in your arms to soothe him. You’ve watched him change the subject umpteen times whenever the conversation turned to family. 

Which isn’t a surprise because to him, his only family was Sue. She’s the only family member he ever knew and the thought of him growing up with next to no one else, saddens you deeply. 

Today is your birthday and Johnny has been driving himself up the wall with plans for it. He keeps saying how he wants today to be perfect for you and that his favourite person in the world deserves nothing but the best.

Whoever said romance is dead hadn’t met Johnny Storm. 

“Babe” he calls, his voice echoing through the apartment until he reaches the bathroom to find you drying off after your shower. His eyes rake over your body in awe before you turn away out of embarrassment “everything okay?” you ask, wrapping the towel back around yourself and padding into the bedroom and then to the closet to pick out your outfit for the day.

“Yeah, i just wondered when you wanted to do gifts” he smiles, leaning against the door frame as you change and then turn to him with the same smile on your face “whenever you’re ready” you say, glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly before following him out into the lounge and the moment you step foot into the room, you gasp at the sight. Balloons and banners cover the walls and floor. A small stack of presents sit nicely on the coffee table in front of the couch and you roll your eyes before looking at him.

“Johnny” you sigh, he’s really gone all out and you feel so lucky right now. Despite you consistently telling him that all you wanted was to spend the entire day with him, no gifts needed, he didn’t listen.

“What? You didn’t seriously expect me to not spoil you on your birthday did you?” he smirks, leading you over to the couch and handing you a card. You open it and pull it out to see it’s covered in love hearts with a simple ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front. However, when you open it to look inside, the cutest message is written.

‘Y/N, 

Whether we are together or apart, you’re first in my thoughts and first in my heart. Happy birthday baby.

Lots of love, Johnny x’

As much as he likes to play dumb, he’s actually very intelligent and very cute and thoughtful. This card means more to you than any present ever could. Your lips touch his as you thank him for his beautiful words and mutter “i love you” in between the kisses.

“Now, open this one first” he instructs, pointing to the square box. You pick it up, placing it on your lap and start to undo the black ribbon tied neatly on top and when you lift the lid, a canvas is lightly covered in red tissue paper. It’s a picture of you and Johnny together. His lips are just touching your forehead and you’re smiling so big that you’re pretty sure your face was hurting. You both look like the epitome of happiness.

Tears brim in your eyes and you let one fall before turning to him “Johnny, i love it. It’s perfect” he tilts your head up to capture your lips in a loving kiss followed by a small make out session. He’s always struggled to stop at one kiss. 

“I was worried it would be too much but i thought you could hang it right above our bed” 

Did he just say our bed?  Wait, are you missing something here because you don’t live with him, sure you’ve discussed it but never made any official decisions. 

You can see he quickly regrets saying it as soon as he widens his eyes before clearing his throat and handing you the next present. This one is a tad smaller than the box before and it’s a white box with sticker in the middle, the writing is unclear but you waste no time in pulling the lid off to reveal a gorgeous apron. 

When you and Johnny first met it was at a bake sale that Sue had dragged him along to. You were selling cakes that you had made, all sorts of flavours. He kept coming around to your booth over and over, tasting a different cake each time and giving you more than the money that they costed. You remember your sister who was helping you sell them telling you that he liked you but you waved her off, refusing to believe that you’d caught someones eye. But funny enough, before he left, he plucked up the courage to ask for your number and the rest is history.

The apron is white with a variety of colours all over it, the strings are pink and you’re in love with it. Now you’re desperate to get in the kitchen and bake just so you can wear it. He must have noticed the way your current one was getting rather tatty and the fact that he thought to get you this just goes to show how thoughtful he is and how much attention he pays to you. 

“It’s so beautiful” you beam, holding it up to admire it some more “just like you then” he winks, snaking his arms around your torso and pulling you closer as he holds the final present in his hands. 

Though you’re trying your best, you just can’t get the way he said our bed, out of your head. What did he mean by that?

“And this is the last one, i promise” he chuckles, popping it into your small hands and allowing you to open it. Once you do, a key sits in the middle with your initials written on one side and his on the other. You look up at him, more tears forming as it starts to click what this means “will you move in with me?” tears form in his eyes too as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes and you wrap your arms around him “yes, i’d love to” you grin, kissing him some more.

“Really?” does he even need to ask?

“Yes, really. I’d love to live with you” 

He cups your face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss if that’s even possible before resting his forehead to yours and a relieved sigh escapes “i tried my hardest not to ruin it when you opened the canvas but i guess i just got too excited” he explains, so that’s what he meant by our bed. 

Now it makes sense why he was looking at duvet sets and toothbrush holders for his place. He was preparing in case you said yes. Which you did and it was the easiest yes you’ve ever given. 

Johnny then stands up, clearing any rubbish away before sitting back down next to you and going over the plans for the rest of the day. He mentions how he’s booked a table for dinner tonight but wants to take you shopping for something new to wear first. You reluctantly agree, after losing the battle with him. You tried to explain that you could just wear something you already have but he wasn’t having any of it. 

You never win.

After getting your shoes on and brushing your teeth, you walk out into the hall to get your coat from the rack and as you do, Johnny bends down to pick up some post before spotting you stood there.

“Looks like you’ve got some cards” he states, handing them to you for you to open. 

The first one you open is from your sister, she’s been busy lately with college so you didn’t expect to see her today but it’s the thought that counts. 

The next one is from your parents. Johnny takes them from you once you read what’s inside so he can set them down next to the card you got from Sue and Reed and his one. 

As he does this you notice him reading the cards and his face falls once he reads the one from your parents.

“Are you okay?” stupid question but you can’t just jump straight into a conversation like that, he has to know that you’re treading lightly. It’s always been a tough subject for him.

“Yeah, i’m fine” he shrugs it off before placing it down and turning to leave the room “shall we go then?” but you stop him.

“Johnny” he shakes his hand from your grasp, pulling away and letting out an annoyed deep breath “leave it Y/N” he snaps but you don’t. You can’t just keep leaving it. You want him to tell you when he’s ready but you’re afraid that day may never arrive unless you prove to him how much you care.

You sit back down on the couch and your silent prayers that he’ll join you pays off as he takes a seat next to you “Johnny, i know this isn’t exactly a conversation you want to have with me but i want you to know that i love you no matter what and i want to be here for you if you ever need me” you explain, taking his hands and holding them both in yours.

“I’m fine, Y/N seriously. I just need to stop being silly and move on from it. Most people have their parents around and i don’t, i haven’t since i was 10 and that’s fine” he rushes, in hopes that it’ll get you off his back but you aren’t budging. 

Silence falls upon the two of you for a couple of minutes and you decide to just let him calm down before speaking. Eventually he beats you to it “i didn’t exactly have the best childhood. I was raised by my older sister and spent years so angry at the world that i did everything in my power to shut everyone out. I constantly wanted to lash out and make people hurt the way i was hurting. I joined gangs, i’d commit silly crimes like stealing and when that stopped distracting me, i resorted to self harm. I’d sit in my room for hours upon hours, sometimes even days and just lay there, music drowning out all the noise as i constantly attacked my own body. I hated who i’d become but who i’d become was the only way i could stop myself from hearing those voices in my head. Voices that told me my parents were better off not being parents to me and that i was a failure”

Tears drown your vision out as you listen to the man you love open up for the first time since you met him. He’s never told you about any of this. Now you can see why. When terrible things happen to us as a human race, we’re taught that no one will understand or that we are freaks and should just keep it to ourselves. Men are conditioned to feel like showing any kind of emotion will make them less of a man and that they need to be strong. The stigma attached to mens mental health is shocking and now you wonder if he ever told Sue any of this. You know she’s aware of him having some issues but has she known about this all along, all of the details?

“My mother died when i was 8, her and my dad were in a car accident, he survived and she well, you already know. Her side of the car was the side that got hit and my dad who was a doctor, struggled to save her. He spent so long beating himself up for it, blaming himself and soon enough he found comfort in alcohol. He drunk himself stupid every night almost and eventually got into gambling. Sue tried her best to help him, using me as a bribe for him to turn his life around, telling him that i needed a dad and if i lost him too it would destroy me. But he didn’t care. He was consumed by guilt, so much so that he got into a lot of trouble, mostly with loan sharks, we lost our house after he left and had to go and live with my aunt”

“Left? Where did he go?” you ask, keeping a hold of his hands as they shake from recounting all of his childhood trauma to you, you can see this is hard for him “if you don’t want to tell me then i won’t make you” 

“No, i need to do this. He never died, i lied to you. He got sent down for murder two years after my mom passed, the lone sharks he got into trouble with were threatening him, it got pretty bad and he saw no way out. It’s just easier for me to say he died because i’m ashamed to admit that he refuses to see me or Sue and if i’m being honest, he might as well be dead. He doesn’t want anything to do with us. He said the guilt that fills him at the mention of our names is enough to make him want to stay away. He still blames himself for my mothers death”

You feel extremely overwhelmed right now, unsure of what to say until he turns to look at you.

“Listen to me, in no way are your parents better off being gone. If they were still with you and in your life, they’d be so proud of you. Johnny, i mean it. You’re incredible, the things you’ve achieved in the last year alone are something to be celebrated. I love you and i’m not going to let you diminish everything that you are. You’re brave and strong and i’m so glad to call you my boyfriend” 

He leans his head on your shoulder and you pull him in for a hug. Both of your eyes fill with more tears as some fall down your faces and you can tell that right now all he needs is for you to be here and hold him.

After hearing all of that, everything makes sense. The way he acts, the way he overcompensates with his flirting and humour. He uses it as a mask, to cover up who he is in the dark when he’s alone. When you’re not around, this is him. Just a scared little boy who’s known rejection, sadness and regret for as long as he can remember. He’s just wanted to feel accepted, loved and wanted by those around him and he was forced to grow up way too early, losing his parents so close together can’t have helped him at all. Knowing his dad doesn’t want to see him saddens you all the more.

“Are you, you know... self harming now?” the one question you hate to ask but you have to know “no, i haven’t since before i met you. I found other ways to help my anger like working out” you both pull away from the hug and he sees how puffy your eyes are, his aren’t much better either.

“How did you do it?” again, you really don’t want to know but you have to, you want to understand him more and you’re hoping he won’t pull away from you now “however i could. Cutting, punching. All sorts. To me it didn’t matter what i did as long as i did something to ease the pain but the release never lasted long enough”

You close your eyes, sighing. All you feel for him right now is sympathy and anger. Angry that you didn’t know him then to help him but sympathy because no one should ever have to go through that. No one should ever have to feel so much pain that they resort to hurting themselves, no one should ever have to feel so worthless that they get themselves into trouble and lash out at everyone around them. His dad should have stayed, he should have used Johnny and Sue as a reason to fight but even then, addiction is hard to fight so it’s not like it would have been easy for him. Guess life just has a funny way of working out and this all happened for a reason. A very sick reason but a reason nonetheless. You’re just glad he’s with you now. 

“I ruined your birthday” he mumbles, looking down and picking at the skin around his fingernails, anxiety practically drowning him but you’re not gonna let him do this.

You force him to look in your eyes and wipe the tears as they fall from his bloodshot eyes “hey, I don’t want to hear that you ruined my birthday. My birthday could never be ruined with you here. Whenever you’re around i feel like nothing could take away how good i feel” and it’s true, he makes you feel better, he improves your mood. You love him and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop.

There’s nothing he could ever tell you that could ever make you leave “are you sure?” his voice is low and barely audible but you hear it “i’m certain” he falls into your arms again and you kiss his head whilst you squeeze him tight “i love you” he sobs, his tears dripping onto your skin “and i love you” you rock him side to side, hoping to calm this frightened boy.

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

After a while of just sitting there holding him, your phone rings, bringing you out of that sad state. It’s Sue.

He opens his eyes to see where all the noise is coming from and you move to pick the phone up.

“Hi Sue” you greet, barely even attempting to act nonchalant “sure, when?” she tells you that she was thinking of cooking for you, for your birthday and wants to know if you and Johnny are free.

You put the phone on speakerphone so Johnny can hear and he just gives you a nod as if to say ‘it’s up to you’. You know the relationship he has with Sue is important to him and he’s always been very happy about how well the two of you get along so you agree without a second longer to fester over it.

Sue hangs up to start cooking whilst Johnny excuses himself to reschedule the reservation for tomorrow instead. He insists that he wants today to be all about you and if going to have dinner with Sue is what you want, he doesn’t mind making the change but you still feel bad. He had this whole day planned and you can’t help but feel as though you’ve ruined it.

“Baby, it’s fine. Sue’s cooking is great, not 5 star Greek restaurant great but still great. We’ll go to that place tomorrow” he kisses your forehead as he heads into the other room to freshen up and you follow.

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

The journey to Reeds place doesn’t take long at all, it’s practically round the corner which doesn’t surprise you. You can recall Reed and Sue looking at bigger places but Sue ended up calling it off because she wanted to be close to Johnny at all times. Close enough so that if he ever needed her, she could be there. 

Sue answers the door, smiling at you both as she ushers you inside, giving you a big hug and a present before you sit down “i was going to give this to you yesterday along with the card but i decided to wait until today” 

You rip open the simple wrapping paper to reveal a Tiffany & Co. box with a white gold lock pendant necklace inside . It’s gorgeous “wow, guys. You really didn’t have to” you’re in shock “thank you so mucj”

She brings you into a hug before you stand to hug Reed too and shortly after Sue leads you away from him and Johnny and into the kitchen.

“You know i really ought to thank you” she says as she starts to dish up the food into serving bowls “since you came around, he’s been different. Happier. And i’m not saying this to make you feel obligated to stay with him but i want you to know that seeing him truly happy really means the world. You listen to him, you care for him and you love him”

Hearing Johnny say that you make him a better person and improve his life always leads to you waving him off like it’s nothing and that he doesn’t need to remind you what you’ve done for him because he’s improved your life too but hearing Sue say it, hearing her thank you like this. It all feels more real, like you really have made a difference.

“He told me everything” you blurt out, unsure if Johnny would want you to tell her that you know and by the way she shivers, you can see you caught her off guard “really?” she keeps herself busy with the food as she talks and when you walk closer to face her she freezes.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you both and i just want to say that any time you want to talk, i’m here. It must be hard sometimes carrying all of that on your back but just so you know, you’ve done an amazing job with Johnny. I couldn’t think of someone who’s sweeter or more polite and he’s doing well for himself” your praise sets her off and she starts wiping at her eyes before hugging you once more “thank you” 

Johnny enters the kitchen, clearing his throat to announce his presence and when he sees the two of you, clearly having a heart to heart, his eyes soften “is the food almost ready?” 

Sue nods, gesturing to the many serving bowls on the kitchen counter “take the potatoes and vegetables in please and send Reed in too” he nods, smiling as he does as he’s told before looking towards you with pure adoration.

God, he’s everything. He’s brave, loving and strong. You’re so glad he trusted you enough to open up and you’re gonna continue to be there for him, should he ever need to talk to you about any of it again.

Years have gone by with him never being able to find the words to talk about his childhood until you came along. Sharing everything with you was the first step to finally moving forward. Maybe he stands a real chance now at living a life free of all that pain. Maybe one day that will be possible and he can finally stop worrying about everything haunting him. One step at a time though.

He’s got you here with him to help him through and that’s all that matters right now.

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

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[freddiekluger]

i love the "mike seeing the ghosts" idea SO much in general, so i've interspersed the main cap headcanon with some ones for the other ghosts- i love mike sm so thanks for requesting!!!

it started as a tickle in his throat, but come evening mike comes down with a serious chest infection. alison drives him to the doctor's in time to grab some antibiotics, but they've got a function at button house this week so for the most part alison has to keep her distance- can't afford for both of them to get sick, especially considering how many repairs, decorations, and vendor meetings still need to be sorted. mike pops a couple tablets before passing out.

the next morning, alison has to go out to run some errands, so mike finds himself stumbling to the kitchen for breakfast the next day. julian's already there, doing his trademark lunges while listening to the horse racing (it's become his ritual whenever the races are on- he's insufferable otherwise, so alison lets him keep the radio). they share a nod, and it's not until after mike sits down with his cereal that he realises he's just nodded at a dead politician with his balls out. between that and the phlegm in his chest, it was a rough start to the day to say the least.

after he gets over the whole "ohmygodicanseedeadpeopleholyshit" (and at least one reenactment of the hospital scene from the sixth sense), along with greeting the various ghosts he encounters on his way back to bed, via the loo (both him and mary got quite a shock when she "peeked on him at privy"), mike collapses onto the bed.

a pillow over his head, mike lets out a few substantial groans before hearing a cough that, surprisingly, doesn't come from him. he slides his head out from under the pillow and sits up to see a greying, slightly awkward figure in period military dress standing in the doorway. he assumes this must be the captain.

captain:

mike: hi?

captain: oh, hello. i was just on my way back from my morning run* and mary mentioned that you can, well, see us now.

mike: yep. [coughs] that's pretty much the deal. not sure why though

captain: oh that'll be the antibiotics you've got there. strong stuff, eh? anyways, i thought i'd stop by and say hello. hello

mike: hi. i would say nice to meet you, but [a coughing fit ensues]

captain: ahem, quite

[silence]

mike, holding up a video game casing: well, i was just gonna play this, if you don't mind?

*this is technically true. the captain is indeed, on the way back from his morning run, except his morning run finished half an hour ago, and he's been waiting for the right time to introduce himself to mike. unlike thomas, he doesn't expect anything to lead anywhere, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to be alone with the rather handsome buffoon.

mike's holding one of those war themed combat games, the kind with a vague plot but mostly battles and button mashing. the captain's temporarily distracted from staring at mikes arms, and starts quizzing him about the game itself. by the time the loading screen is done, mike's already gotten the impression that the captain doesn't want to leave for a few different reasons, and it's not like you have a WW2 army captain of hand to help you work out strategy every day, so they pretty quickly end up teaming up- long gone are mike's days of button mashing (or, mostly long gone. "sometimes it works!"). the only condition was that the captain had to stop calling mike 'michael'- mike said it reminded him of his grandad too much.

- the game has moments where your character can romance any of the other characters, regardless of gender- mike's a dirty player, the captain gets rather awkward when mike decided the best way to achieve his immediate goal is to seduce all relevant characters into giving up troop information, and mike would be lying if he didn't find it at least a little bit entertaining to watch

- in between levels, and when waiting for lives to replenish, mike asks cap about his time in the war, and the captain loves having someone to listen to all his stories (even if most of them are second hand). he keeps having to remind himself not to stare, because mike can actually notice his eyes wandering, but of course that just makes him even more aware of it and the cycle of awkward noises and obviously-not-looking continues. alison has let slip to mike that the captain is likely a bit of a bender, and is relatively flattered by the possibility of cap liking HIM (not to mention not wanting to accidentally send him into a toxic 40s shame spiral), so mike just keeps the friendly conversation going to keep cap feeling comfortable. the captain's crush migrates to the left, and by day four or five him and mike really are friends more than anything else- if there's one thing the captain couldn't stand, it would be turning into one thomas thorne, although he still gets a few butterflies when mike compliments his strategy after a tough level. (it's not every day you have the attention of a handsome man who thinks you're a genius- especially when you're dead)

- it warms alison's heart to see the captain having the closest thing to fun he's had since they arrived, and the whole ghost set up works well for her and mike- mike needs the company, and alison can't afford to get sick or fall behind on jobs

- kitty loves mike (not romantically, she just thinks he's neat!), and eventually joins him and cap for their video games. cap was dismissive of her at first (one part possessiveness over mike's time, one part disbelief that kitty could be a good player), but kitty ends up rivalling him when it comes to strategy. after one too many nights locked outside and having to break back in to her own home, she's become an expert at espionage (even if she won't admit her experience was anything other than a fun childhood game.) with cap and kitty helping him out, mike makes more progress in a single day than he had in a week of gameplay. not to mention, kitty could really use the confidence boost from mike's compliments which he gives to both of his gaming partners frequently, although he draws the line at kitty's georgian cough remedies

extras:

- fanny ignores him as overcompensation for Redding Weddy. well, i say ignore, but she's somehow always the first one to volunteer when alison asks one of the ghosts to check on him

- mike considers going down to the cellar to get a look at the plague ghosts. mike heads to the door. mike remembers the sheer amount of skeletons when they dug up the plague pit. mike pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders and heads away from the door.

- obviously, thomas avoids mike wherever possible. mike barely even knows what thomas's voice sounds like by the time things go back to normal

- mike feels bad for humphrey, and keeps trying to pick his head up and place it amongst the action before remembering he can't actually touch him. he also feels bad for screaming everytime he sees humphrey's body stumbling around. it was in the bathroom one night, and let's just say it was lucky there was a toilet nearby.

- pat invites himself to watch mike, kitty, and the captain as they tackle the final levels together, on the proviso that he doesn't make a sound. pat's rubbish at tactical planning, even if he can plan a mean scouts activity, but he's just happy to watch. it's nice to see the cap really having some fun, and see kitty included. it'll be sad for everyone once mike finishes his course of antibiotics

- thing eventually do go back to normal, and the captain misses mike's company far more than he thought he would. mike's still around, but not being able to properly talk to him is tough, and the captain realised that he was maybe more fond of mike than he convinced himself (mike will still make a thomas thorne out of him yet). mike strangely misses the funny soldier, and the georgian 'battlemistress' (kitty chose the title herself), and alison finds herself constantly passing messages between them. they're currently testing out all the ghost-communication equipment under the sun (within a reasonable price range) to see if they can find a better solution

thanks sm for this one, and so sorry for the delay! i've been battling with hardcore brain fog, so it's been difficult to create totally new stuff with words- hope this was up to scratch

[ohnopoe]

andy, good sir! i have a hc request you might enjoy as party of your milestone celebration! how do you think the boys react to seeing a tattoo on you they didn’t know abt for the first time?

Thank you, good sir! I’m hoping this works for what you wanted! 

As there’s a lot, some of the characters are under the cut!

This is part of my follower celebration! Click here for info!

Din Djarin

Din is nothing if not observant. He has taken in every bit of you, even when you’re completely unaware he’s even glancing in your direction. So when you’re wearing something a little looser, your clothing falling just enough to give way to the sight of your tattoo, he’s practically frozen in surprise.

He had never even considered there might be tattoos hidden behind your usual attire, and now that he’s got a glimpse, he’s more than slightly curious.

He doesn’t actually start the conversation, it’s you who realises some days later as you catch him staring at the now covered design, and you can practically feel the questions radiating through the hard beskar helmet that’s focused so determinedly on you. It starts out simple, “I’m guessing you saw the tattoo?” and from there the floodgates are open.

He has questions, more than he’s ever let out in one go before. He’s never experienced having a tattoo, never even really considered it. Showing your skin holds so much weight in his culture, that the idea of adorning it with anything feels so important. He has to know more, even when he can’t articulate his thoughts properly.

And there’s a reverence there. He’s not judgemental that you would choose to paint your skin with designs, rather, he holds a weight of importance to the idea that you had never thought possible. He cares about it, about each design you consider adding. And suddenly, whenever the thought of another tattoo so much as creeps into your mind, he’s there, fascinated and supportive; and silently intimidating the hell out of the poor artist who’s job it is to actually get the needle onto your skin.

Frankie Morales

If it’s an older tattoo, one that’s healed, you can bet Frankie will be tracing his fingers over it with reverence. It starts in the heat of the moment, his touch light and teasing, followed by the lightest of kisses that send goosebumps over your skin. But then it’ll slip into every day moments, if it’s somewhere accessible. You’ll never forget the outlines of the design, because even subconsciously, Frankie’s fingers will trace the patterns against your skin, even through a layer of fabric, burning it further into his memory with each movement.

If it’s new, well, his only complaint would be not being there with you when you got it. Sure, you’re an adult, you can do what you want, but tattoos can be painful, and even when they’re not, they take a long damn time, and that’s time he could have spent at your side, making sure you truly were fine, making sure you were hydrated and entertained as the artist worked on you.

Either way, you can bet Frankie is going to love anything you choose to have tattooed to your body. It’s just a part of you, like getting a haircut, or fashion choices. It’s something you’ve chosen to stick with you, and he’s going to show it the appropriate affection and care.

Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey)

Jack is absolutely not going to let you get away with it. Oh no, he’s going to mention it. “You trying to hide this piece of art, darlin?” he asks with a raised brow, hands settled on your hips in order to keep you in place as he takes in the sight properly. He’ll take it in with that damn observance that can be more than a little irritating at times, making a point of it, somewhat over dramatically. And if you think it’s ending there, you’re damn wrong. No, he’ll pull this shit for weeks. He’ll bring it up just when you think he’s forgotten, teasing you about how you got a tattoo without even mentioning it to him, and how ‘heart broken’ he is you didn’t feel the need to share.

You make a point of taking him with you next time, desperate to avoid the dramatics you endured in the past, but that doesn’t help in the slightest. Oh no, he’s at your side as you lay back on the leather seat, and there’s that damn smirk that just spells trouble. Before you can so much as throw a warning glare in his direction, he’s speaking to the artist this time. “Can you believe she got a whole damn tattoo and didn’t tell me last time?”

And you could just about smack that smirk off his lips.

Javier Peña

In all honesty, Javier couldn’t care less, for the most part. Sure, he’ll throw you that trademark smirk of his as he takes it in, eyeing you up with a look that screams his mind is far in the gutter. But there will only be one question coming from those smirking lips, “does it hurt?” He needs to know if it’s still tender, needs to be aware if it’s going to hurt you if he touches it, because you can be sure he intends to do just that, if he can get away with it.

And if it is healed enough to touch, oh, he’s going to touch it. Kisses here, strokes there. Somehow it makes the filthiest of moments just a little more heartfelt as his fingers trace over the pattern, even when he’s not looking at it. He’s observant, always has been, and the image is seared into his mind, so he doesn’t have to look to know the curve of each line. His fingers know the path of the design with ease, and it’s almost tender, the way they dance over it subconsciously while he’s making a mark of his own against the skin of your neck.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus never truly considered tattoos. Sure, he’s seen them here and there, and he can admit that there’s a beauty to some, but that’s as far as he’s ever thought about them in the past. He grew up the same as many, warned that tattoos would lead to struggling to secure income, that you wouldn’t get a good job if your skin was covered in patterns and designs. Of course, he always thought that was absolute rubbish. You shouldn’t be treated any differently because you had something artistic or meaningful painted on your body, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world was as accepting.

So he’s never really been around them all that much, that is, until you.

It surprises him, more than he cares to admit, and that voice in the back of his head pipes up, wondering if you had had any issues because of them. But he pushes the thought away in an instant. That’s not what’s important here, especially when you’re waiting for an actual response from him.

And then, in a move that surprises even himself, he’s smiling. He’s taking in every detail, trying to figure it out, to learn what it is that made you want this specific design, whether it meant something to you, or whether it was a spur of the moment decision.

It surprises him even more as the new design captures his attention more and more as the days pass by. He’s enthralled, intrigued… Sure, he’s not about to get one himself, but there’s a curiosity towards it that he had never really felt beforehand.

Marcus Pike

Marcus would be in awe. Tattoos can be so personal, and even the simplest of designs can say so much in their artistic beauty. This man, oh, he’d be one to admire it, to take in every detail with fascination. It’s an expression of your soul, even the stupidest, tackiest tattoo is a choice, and he’s going to show it the same reverence he would show towards a piece of art that you had made yourself. It’s part of you that you want to display, whether to the world, or just yourself, and he’s going to love that.

If it’s something new, ok, he might be a little hurt you didn’t tell him about it, alright more than a little, but he’d put on a brave face. After all, it’s your body, and if you wanted to keep it to yourself, well, that was your right.

But if it was something older? Oh, that’s much worse. He’ll stare in wonder, but there will be that little furrow between his brows, quiet and subtle that tells you his mind is whirling away silently. How had he never noticed it before? He had always been so damn attentive, and he had missed a freaking tattoo? Yeah, he’s going to beat himself up about this for far too long, and he’s certainly not going to bring up the cause of his distress until you call him out on it.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (part 7)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing.

----------

Later that day, Daphne was trying to distract herself from her jumbled thoughts. Between Matt and whatever the Italians were planning, she just wanted to chill. She had Breaking Bad on her laptop as she leisurely lay on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt. It would be dinner time soon and she was considering ordering take out so she didn't have to cook. She was pretty sure she didn't have much in anyway. Halfway through an episode, there was a knock at her door. She groaned as she stood, stretching her arms over her head until her back made a satisfying pop. Glancing out the peephole, she saw Foggy standing there. She groaned again before swinging the door open. 

"Daphne!" He grinned like he was surprised to see her in her own home despite him clearly coming here to see her. Her eyes drifted to his right hand which was holding a plastic bag.

"Can I help you, Foggy?" She asked patiently. 

"I was just… you know… in the neighbourhood and figured I'd swing by… with burgers," he flashed her a toothy smile and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Did Matt send you?" She asked suspiciously. She really hoped not, she wanted him to believe she was a grade A bitch and leave her alone.

"No, I just wanted to talk. But maybe when I did mention the possibility of me dropping in, Matt maybe seemed semi interested which may have made me more determined," he said vaguely. 

Foggy was almost as tiring as Matt but in a different way. She waved her hand to signal he could come in as she padded back over to the couch. He came in seeming more relaxed than the last time he was here and plonked himself down with ease into the armchair. 

"Look, I just wanna say that I'm sorry about Matt’s attitude," he started. She held a hand up right away to stop him.

"Stop. Don't apologise on his behalf when you've not done anything wrong. That's shit and means nothing. It's not your job to be apologising for him… besides, I haven't exactly been great either," she admitted reluctantly. He gave a tentative smile and nodded as he took out a burger from the bag. She took it with a grateful smile and started munching on it since she was so hungry. 

"I get it. I mean kind of. Matt's weird with you, obviously I'm his best friend so he's much nicer to me. He can still be an asshole at times though. But seeing you guys at the office was really something. Your personalities are a lot alike, I think," he mused as he bit into his own burger. Her jaw dropped, offence coloured her features.

"I'm nothing like him!" She argued with a scoff. He chuckled and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Mhm… sure. Either way, as much of an ass he can be, he's trying okay? Maybe… maybe you could also try a little harder to be nice," he suggested gently. She wanted to throw her burger at him but he wasn't completely wrong. She hadn't been making it easy but it was simply because she didn't like how she felt when she was around him.

"Can't make any promises," she retorted vaguely as she took another bite. Foggy just nodded, seeming to realise that was the best he would get from her.

"I do wanna say thanks though. For helping him when he really needed it. It means a lot to me that he has someone other than me who he can count on," he murmured softly. She glanced at him at the sincerity in his tone as she finished off her burger. 

"Can I ask you a personal question?" She asked curiously. 

"Only if I can ask one after," he bargained with a cheeky grin. She fully expected it though and nodded. It was only Foggy after all. She doubted it would be anything too crazy.

"Great, then shoot," he said confidently. 

"Do you ever just get sick of it? Being friends with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen? I mean if he goes down, you go down too. And not to mention the constant worry of him getting hurt or winding up dead," she said carefully. She remembered the tension between the friends at the office earlier. She wondered if they'd argued about Matt getting shot. 

Foggy looked conflicted for a second as he shifted in his seat. After a moment, he levelled a steady gaze at her.

"Matts like a brother to me. Sometimes I wish it was different. I didn't even find out about his secret until not too long ago. Sometimes I wished it was easy like it was back then. But it's not. And as hard headed as he is and as much as I worry, he's a good man. He wants to help people and make a real difference. So if I have to stress out about him getting hurt then it's the least I can do. He saves lives out there, more than the cops do. He genuinely makes a difference and I believe in what he does," he didn't falter in his speech and she found a pang of envy at how much Foggy seemed to care for Matt. There was such a strong loyalty there. 

She just nodded, accepting his words. There wasn't really a follow up to it; she was just curious about it. She guessed they could argue about Matt's safety until the world stopped rotating, but in the end Matt would always be Daredevil and Foggy would always back him up.

"What about you? Do you have any family or friends?" It was a simple question that he'd chosen but it made her uneasy nonetheless. She blew out a sigh and leaned back more on the couch.

"I've got family. My parents and an older sister and brother. My parents live in Hawaii now and my brother is a fancy brain surgeon. My sister Lisa lives in the suburbs. Two kids and a husband, living the housewife life," she snorted softly.

"Are you close to them?" He prompted curiously. She shook her head softly.

"Not super close I guess. I'd always been the odd one out growing up. Liked to use my fists, got in trouble a lot. Not really what my parents wanted from me and I didn't exactly live up to the reputation of my brother and sister. I'm closest to Lisa out of all of them but… we live very different lives. I don't get to see her or the kids too much," she admitted softly. Honestly it made her sad to think about. She'd never been super close with her parents or brother but Lisa always tried. Tried to be there and to understand her no matter how vastly different they were. She hadn't seen her niece and nephew in almost 6 months which felt like a lifetime. 

"What about friends?" Foggy asked cautiously. The pair were well aware this was more than the one personal question they'd agreed on but she allowed it anyway since it was connected.

"Does Brett count?" She snorted sheepishly. Foggy barked a laugh at her answer and shook his head.

"Oh no. That's so sad," he laughed. She found herself chuckling with him despite the fact he was right. 

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit abrasive. Not the best way to make friends," she smirked. He just shook his head ruefully.

"Well we need to work on your people skills. But for what it's worth, you've got a friend in Foggy Nelson," he grinned at her. She smiled and lowered her head.

"I don't know, Foggy. You're way too cheerful to be tainted by my darkness," she teased. He tossed his burger wrapper at her but she caught it.

"Now see, that just means we balance each other out well. I mean, you have seen who I'm best friends with, right?" He smirked. He wasn't exactly wrong. 

"Can't argue with that," she snorted. 

She found she didn't mind Foggy's company as much as she thought she would. He wasn't confusing and he was easy to be around. And she didn't have the urge to be a complete bitch to him like she did with most people. 

"Alright, I need to head back to the firm. We’re working late tonight on a case," he said as he stood. She followed suit and walked him to the door. 

"Thanks for stopping by and for the food," she murmured gratefully. She meant it too. He gave her a bright grin and nodded.

"Anytime. Thanks for letting me in and saving my best friend," he chortled. Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she pointed to the hallway. He laughed as he stepped outside. 

"Hope to see you soon, Daphne," he smiled before disappearing down the hallway. 

She blew out a breath before walking back to her trusty couch and flopping onto it. Foggy seemed like a good friend and he wanted to be friends with her. She found herself naturally trusting him and it didn't even bother her. The only issue was who he was best friends with. How could she be friends with Foggy and avoid Matt? It wasn't practical. But she enjoyed having someone to talk to like Foggy and the feeling of companionship he brought her. Now her brain hurt again. She decided on cleaning up the rubbish from the food and tidying up a little to clear her mind.

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

Foggy felt good as he strolled into the office. He felt like his trip had gone well. He really didn't know why Matt and Daphne seemed to butt heads so much, she was always pleasant to him. Then again, he was Foggy Nelson. He had the bag with the one remaining burger and as he walked inside the office, he tossed it on the desk in front of Matt.

"It's cold," Matt muttered with a frown as he got it out. Foggy didn't even feel bad, snorting as he sat in the seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"Yeah. I went to see Daphne and we ended up talking for a bit," he said casually, keeping his eyes on his best friend. He saw Matts eyebrows raise slightly before he forced himself to look neutral. Matt cared. He cared about everyone in this city, it's why he did what he did. He even cared about the welfare of the girl who pissed him off and confused him.

"Really? And uh… was she… alright?" Foggy almost snorted at how not nonchalant his friend was being. 

"She was fine. It was nice really. We ended up talking about her family and stuff," he replied, still watching Matts reactions. Matt actually looked stunned by that revelation as he started to eat his cold burger.

"I would have thought that was too personal to ask about," he said flippantly. 

"Yeah well, it's amazing what she's willing to talk about when you're not an asshole," Foggy teased, causing Matt to roll his eyes. He knew Matt was dying to know what he found out but that he was stubborn enough not to ask. He decided to just tell him anyway. It wasn't anything overly personal so he didn't feel like he was doing anything wrong by sharing what she'd told him.

"Her parents moved to Hawaii. From what she said it sounds like they don't really talk. Her brother's a neurosurgeon and I don't think she talks to him much either. Then her older sister, Lisa I think, lives in the burbs with two kids and a husband. She said she gets on with her sister the most but how they live different lives. But I don't know, man. She seemed… lonely. It was sad. I mean, when I asked if she had friends her only response was Brett," he explained sounding mortified.

"Jesus," Matt muttered, eyebrows raised as he set the wrapper down after finishing his burger.

"Exactly. But I let her know that I'm willing to be a friend if she needs one. And maybe if you were a little nicer then you could be too. Being isolated isn't a good feeling, Matt. She needs friends. She might not go out and kick ass like you, but she's still into some heavy shit. She needs support," Foggy lectured. 

Matt huffed a little and rubbed his temples as he looked over the desk at him.

"Why are you so set on this? We butt heads and I don't think it's going to change. Even when I'm nice to her, she flips like a switch. She's confusing and infuriating and there's no point in me trying," he insisted firmly.

"Fine, I'll leave it for now. But just try to keep it in mind. She might be the PI but I like to think I'm good at reading people. I don't think she's used to people really caring about her and maybe that makes her defensive and lash out? I'm not a psychologist, I don't really know. But maybe next time she goes all bitch mode, you just try to be patient with her," Foggy suggested carefully. Matt pursed his lips and just nodded stiffly. Foggy wasn't sure he was even listening at this point but at least he tried. He honestly thought the pair of them could do good things together if they got their heads out of their asses and worked as a team. 

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Eight)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: (y/n) has to stay entertained at the cave, and so goes about setting up defences.

A/N: I think this chapter is a bit dull, but I promise it gets better soon!

Masterlist

Unsurprisingly, no light filters into my room when I wake again the next morning, my eyes having to swiftly adjust to the shadowy sight before them as I sit up, rubbing at my scalp. A pounding headache has set in, thanks to the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of over thinking I did last night, my skull feeling as if it's about to explode as I swing my legs out from under the covers, knowing that I have even more planning and preparing to do if I want to survive long enough to see the end of the year. Stretching out the dull ache in my muscles, I check the watch on my wrist briefly to get an idea of the time: 4:23. Whether that is AM or PM, I have no idea yet, but I aim to find out, quickly grabbing my rucksack and jacket as I stand and leave the room, heading out into the main hall where the boys usually spend their nights.

Bright light streams in from the outside, indicating that it is 4:23 PM, illuminating the decrepit lobby in a new clarity I've not seen it in before, every piece of scattered rubbish given a new appearance. In the daylight, the whole place looks less sinister, and more like an abandoned antiques shop, the dusty bits and pieces casting odd shaped shadows onto the floor as the sunlight hits them from a certain angle, every dull colour suddenly highlighted more than usual. I have to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust, but they quickly do so, my gaze swiftly flicking around the looming room so that I can take it all in, a plan springing to my mind as I observe it all.

Silently, I get to work, dropping my bag on the fountain ledge and rummaging around in it, pulling everything out to lay it out in front of me so that I can properly see what I have. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy what needs doing. Picking up the lightweight chains we are required to own, I grab some dirty old cans lying a little way away, the litter most likely the remains of a meal from sometime before, their rusted forms almost perfect for what I need them for.

Eyeing the brightly lit entrance, I take up a ball of string, too, and go over to it, stepping out onto the rickety walkway, examining the rugged wood with a critical eye as I walk out a little way, putting some weight in my step. Under each step, the wood moves slightly, the material having a light spring to it thanks to its age and exposure to the elements, which makes me frown slightly, hoping my plan will still work even though this is the case. Kneeling down, I measure out a length of string that runs the width of the walkway and use my knife to cut it to size. Setting it aside, I get to work on the chains, making six separate lengths with cans attached to them, each one of them rattling loudly as I shake them out experimentally. Smiling to myself, I connect one chain to the end of the piece if string, doubling it over itself for a better result, quickly doing the same on the other end of the string, weighting it down perfectly. I find a pair of small rocks lodged into the cliffside beside me and place them at opposing ends of the walkway, but not before I've scraped a small groove into their surfaces, where the string rests once I've set it up, hanging the chains over the sides of the walkway. The string sits an inch or so above the surface of the walkway, meaning it is easily tripped over, setting off the rudimentary alarm.

I repeat this twice more, leaving them at alternating distances from each other to provide a crude trap to alert anyone inside the cave of approaching intruders: when someone trips the string, the cans and chains will rattle loudly, signifying their approach. Absentmindedly, I hear a small voice in my head telling me that any SRS soldiers will be expecting this, and won't fall for such an amateur trap, quickly deciding that I need to work on something inside the cave, too, something more hidden.

Going back inside, I wipe some sweat from my upper lip, surprised at the heat of the day despite it being mid-October, my clothes sticking to me as I go back to my rucksack, trying to figure something else out. My eyes are quickly drawn to the grenades I have left. They won't work very well on humans, but the loud noise and subsequent explosion of mist will throw anyone off if caught up in it, meaning they are somewhat effective for this purpose.

Grabbing them, I take the string again and go to the entrance, making sure to set up two of the conveniently placed barrels of charcoal the boys use as braziers, setting them up a little way apart around the front of the cave. Going a little way ahead of them again, I place a seemingly random cardboard box face down on the floor, checking the layout once more, before measuring pieces of string again. Cutting them all to size, I tie one end of each of the length to the ring of a grenade, which I carefully loosen, hiding the two explosives under the cardboard box as I loop the string around the two barrels, pulling it tightly enough that it creates another tripwire across the entrance.

Sitting back, I look at my handiwork, noting that the string isn't too obvious and that the overall look isn't too bad. Cautiously, I pull the string taut again, knowing how tense it needs to be for this trap to actually work. Aware that this is now a near-fatal hazard for the four original residents of the cave, I make a mental note to warn them of the new trap before one of them accidentally trips it and gets a face-full of burning holy water.

Sighing, I go back to my rucksack and pick up the gun, checking the clip for rounds, annoyed to find it only about half-full, most of them having been used over the last few days, meaning it needs reloading. I check over the rest if my stuff, growling when I realise that I haven't got anymore bullets with me, leaving me with a pretty much useless weapon which will need reloading very quickly. Setting it down again, I quickly make a decision, going back out into the daylight and up to the cliff top, where I grab some of the random pieces of driftwood lying around, returning to the cave with an armfull of them. Tiredly, I drop them to the floor and sit down, pull in out my knife so I can start whittling them down - a skill every Hunter is taught is how to make wooden bullets, seeing as they are effective against both supernatural and natural creatures.

A small pile of bullets has steadily grown by the time the boys finally emerge from their sleep, the last rays of sunlight having dissipated an hour or so ago, my fingers sore from scratching the knife over the dry wood for so long, though it has paid off: I have enough to fill four or five clips, now. As they enter the room, I look up at them with a tired smile, glad to have some company now.

"Hey guys. Sleep well?" I greet them, waving slightly with the knife, my tone light despite the tension in my body.

"Mostly, yeah." Marko responds, coming over to me with the others, their brows furrowed as they see what I'm doing.

"What're you up to?" Dwayne questions, eyeing the bullets apprehensively.

"Making some more rounds for my gun. I didn't bring enough ammo, so I'm making my own." I explain, gesturing to the pile dismissively.

"Out of wood?" Paul interjects, looking genuinely curious.

"Yep. It's the only available material."

"That's...kinda cool, but also pretty worrying." The blonde vampire muses, dropping down beside me as he goes to pick one up.

"I'm not planning to use them in you guys, don't worry." I reassure them, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you need so many?" David asks, blue eyes appearing much darker in this light.

I shrug casually, finishing up the one I'm currently working on.

"In case the SRS comes knocking. Speaking of which, I've set up some traps by the entrance, so just be careful of them." I make eye contact with David, "One of them will be very painful if it's tripped."

He frowns a little, but nods in any case.

"Duly noted." The vampire licks his lips carefully, "I'm hungry, so I'm gonna head out and get something to eat. You boys coming?"

Marko and Paul eagerly agree, though Dwayne politely declines.

"I think it's a good idea if someone stays here with (Y/n), and I'm not that hungry so I'm happy to do that." The dark haired vampire explains, watching me for a reaction as I give him a confused look, surprised at the offer.

"You don't need to, Dwayne. I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't want to ruin your night..." I start, only to be cut off by him sitting down beside me.

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather stay here. Plus, maybe you can show me how to do that. It'd get the job done quicker with two people doing it."

"I guess. Thank you." I murmur, still surprised, trying to ignore the blush rising to my cheeks.

"No problem."

"Right, well, we'll be back in a few hours. Want us to bring you something back, Dwayne?" David cuts in, eyeing the two of us carefully.

"No, it's alright. I'll go out when you guys get back."

"Ok. See you two later." Without another word, the three vampires leave the room, the surrounding quickly lapsing into silence as Dwayne and I sit there.

"So, how do you carve these?" He finally asks, pulling a knife from the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running swiftly over the blade to test it's sharpness.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. Just copy me..." I run through the basic premise of what needs doing, the vampire easily picking it up, the two of us starting to produce a good amount of them between us.

Part Nine