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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years ago

Note

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.

#carol danvers #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #lesbain #wlw

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luckyasfuck · 4 years ago

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maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 1, 2, [3], 4, 5

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // (kinda?) mutual masturbation

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n, l/n, h/c

words // 1.8k

a/n // pt. 4 will be written at 100 likes and posted at 5-10 reblogs :). i’m glad ya’ll are enjoying it, send criticism and/or ideas in my inbox.

previous part I masterlist

y/n’s head was no longer cloudy.

it scared her at first, her twitter username and bio must have gave it all away. part of her hoped that katsuki wouldn’t notice the notification, and if he did, well she hopes he’d be too dumb or oblivious to know it was her. but of course, bakugou fucking katsuki wasn’t like that. y/n would know, especially when she woke up him following her back.

fucking son of a bitch.

it was very obvious that it was katsuki. from his voice during lives to his demeanor with his posts: reserved. it was a bitch to think about, no matter what y/n did it was all that occupied her mind. she was aware of the comments she had left on his last live, her other hand too busy pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy to make more than two. that’s what bothered her. not only did she get off to her rival of all people, she did it twice. twice!

she thought about it the whole morning as she reached UA. a person came from behind and bumped her shoulder, rushing to the group of people crowding the main gate. y/n knotted her eyebrows, her mind was too all over the place to know what they could have been fussing about.

the crowd completely blocked the gate and she sighed, opting to take another route until someone grabbed her arm. thinking it was a teacher or a student, she turned around with a smile.

what the fuck.

katsuki stood there gripping her arm and her heart dropped. she yanks his hand away and glared at him, goddamn if looks could kill katsuki would’ve made it to heaven right about now. she stared at him with so much intensity, it almost looked like she was gonna go crazy over the fact that he stopped her, let alone even touch her.

fuck, that’s hot. katsuki gulped and mentally slapped himself after the thought. “don’t let the teachers see you-” he whispered, looking around. y/n sighed, “too late.” she looked behind him where their Biology professor stood with a smile.

“good morning, kids! i’m glad i found you two together, which is um... quite new, don’t you think?” the old woman greeted. katsuki rolled his eyes before facing her, standing beside y/n.

the h/c-haired girl didn’t like being near him at all, he had this weird aura and she didn’t know what his intentions were at all. and him approaching her for the first time without being forced by a professor after the shenanigans of last night? way too timed to be a coincidence, though she wishes it was.

“if you don’t know yet, our school’s competing with others schools with this little competition our school made.” the old woman got straight to the point. “the competition is that weekly for this month, a duo would take a quiz on a specific subject together. the subject changes every week and the questions get harder and harder! the 5 duos with the lowest scores are eliminated. it’s said on the board right there!” she pointed to where the students crowded.

“um, okay...? why are you telling us this then?” y/n questioned, adjusting her grip on her bag as the professor smiled again whilst katsuki breathed out a loud sigh.

“i want you both to be the duo that represents our school!”

“miss-” katsuki started, but got cut off. “don’t you think we’re the worst duo for this? i mean,” y/n laughed sarcastically. “you know we hate each other, everyone fucking knows tha-”

“language, miss l/n.” the professor’s sternly scolded and y/n flinches a bit at the change of mood. “yes, ma’am.” the younger girl looked down on her shoes. “i think it’s a good opportunity for the two of you,” the old woman pointed to the two students. “to get along. you two are really gifted, and i don’t want our school to lose this or get humiliated just because you two have beef with each other for reasons unknown.”

y/n was sweating under her jacket and she gulped as the woman walked away, letting them know her decision was final. katsuki breathed out a deep sigh, face-palming. “what are we gonna do now? knowing that bitch, she’ll tell everyone we said yes.”

y/n didn’t bother to argue with the blonde, she knew he was right. the crowd near the gate starts to disappear and she leaves without responding to katsuki. she doesn’t know where the fuck he got the confidence to talk to her so casually. more like she wished she didn’t know.

she knew that he knew.

and he knew that she knew too.

so simple yet so complicated.

class dragged out and y/n hasn’t spared a single glance at katsuki. she’s done this almost everyday since she met him, so it was easy to do. if only he’d stop staring into her soul, knowing she can see him in the corner of her eye.

katsuki’s always liked to stare, though he had nothing to stare at. and now he does, even he doesn’t like how much he’s staring. he’d snap out of it, curse himself and y/n too while he’s at it, then get caught in a daze while staring at her again.

multiple teachers approached them and individually asked them about the competition, their answers were the same the whole time, a bland “yeah, we’re competing as the duo.”

the students sat in their last class, blabbering around and not caring anymore. it was the last class, after all. they were tired and wanted to go home, but of course, they can’t. at least not yet. y/n didn’t feel like listening, she was tired too. doodling in her notebook, her heart drops when the professor calls her name. fuck, i don’t know the answe-

“oh. and mister bakugou too. i think it’s for the competition, the principal wants you two.” the old male lets out an intrigued hum. “don’t you guys hate each other?” y/n and katsuki walked out the room silently, filling the room with embarrassment on the professors side.

the female walked on the other end of the corridor, she didn’t like katsuki at all. his mere presence makes her gag, and she knows it’s the same for him too. that’s why they opted to stay as far away from each other as possible.

the ash blonde walks into the principal’s office with y/n hot on his trail. “take a seat.” the principal said, not looking up from his paperwork. “listen, you two. i heard a lot from teachers about how you compete with each other, but the both of you are the smartest duo here. all i want is for you two to study together and pass the quizzes as best as you can. you don’t even have to get along! and your grades will be perfect A+’s for the whole month, and if you win, maybe i’ll extend to a month more.”

y/n and katsuki’s eyes widened at the offer, it was so tempting. and education always came first before pride anyway. “fine, i’ll do it.” y/n was the first to speak while katsuki just nodded his head.

“it’s settled then.”

[ timeskip ]

y/n plopped down on her bed. the two of them got sent home early and were forced to share socials with each other. they were also granted permission to use the library whenever they wanted, and were given the schedule to study together from their last two classes until whenever they liked. and before going their separate ways, she told katsuki to text her a plan if he had one.

her phone dings and she automatically assumed it was him. and it was. just... a little more lewd. definitely not what she was expecting.

y/n cussed, “since when the fuck did i let this stupid fucking site give me notifications?” katsuki’s heavy breathing and occasional grunts boomed through her speaker and she hurried to click off it, until her eyes landed on his cock.

from what seemed like it, he had already cum once, the white liquid dripping from his slit down his lenght. y/n can’t seem to tear her eyes from the way he stroked his cock, so gentle yet so rushed, so... satisfying.

she shakes her head and kicks herself out of her absurd train of thoughts, thumb hovering over the ‘X’ on the top left of the site. “have you joined the live, pretty face?” she flinches when she heard his raspy voice, thighs unconciously rubbing together and panties already soaked.

“i hope you have, fuck. been thinking about you all day, mhmm~ why don’t you drop your little comments for me?” she could practically hear the smirk in his words, and it irritated her. but fuck, if he wasn’t so attractive. his perfectly sculpted body, his voice, and that pretty cock. it was that fucking cock.

“are you touching yourself, pretty face? you better. this live’s all for you.” katsuki moaned out, stroking himself faster. y/n watched as the chat went crazy, all of them confessing their sins to him like he was some sort of God.

and maybe he was, cause she found herself running a finger through her wet folds as she watched the camboy play with his tip. she shoves a finger inside, moaning with him before moving in and out parallel to his strokes.

katsuki comes again, his strokes coming to a half. he pants before smirking, “pretty face, lookie here.” he shows a fleshlight to the camera, his tip prodding at the toys entrance. y/n slowly adds another finger as he sunk the toy down onto his cock, both of them moaning.

they both fuck themselves into oblivion while thinking of each other, katsuki’s hips violently fucking into the toy as he hissed, “fuck, i bet your pussy feels a lot better.” y/n felt her cunt clench around her finger at the statement as she started to rub her clit as well.

she orgasms a little bit before katsuki shot his load into the toy, both their movements halting as they tried to catch their breath. she types in a comment before finally exiting the site, feeling slightly disgusted of what she just did. she shudders and opts on taking a shower before napping.

“you dirty little thing.”

katsuki felt his cock twitch at y/n’s comment. he ended the live right after, knowing she probably left already. the notifications for money he hoarded sat heavy on his account and he smiled, cleaning himself up after. the image of her with her legs open, her fingers buried deep in her cunt and her moaning uncontrollably was all that filled katsuki’s brain.

and he fucking hates it. he hates how much power the desires of his cock had over him when he was horny.

and the only desire his cock had was her.

next part I masterlist

taglist:

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @amelie-chan @your-worst-obsession [ cannot tag last two ]

#bakugou smut #katsuki smut #mha #mha smut #bakusquad smut #bnha smut #class 1-a smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou imagines #katsuki imagines #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years ago

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all my focus on you

summary: all of your focus is on Jake, and yet you can’t see that he loves you.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: this is the first thing I've posted in months and I really like how it turned out. let me know what you think! also I didn’t edit it so sorry ahead of time.

“Who’s Tuna?”

You had heard the nickname tossed around a lot. At least, you were pretty sure it was a nickname. You were new to the world of hockey, having only really paid attention to the sport in the past few months as a result of your roommate, Jess, dating professional player Brock Boeser. Through him, you had met Elias, Quinn, Thatcher, Troy, and a whole assortment of others. But, Tuna still remained a mystery to you. Apparently, he was going to be joining your group out to the bar that night.

“You’ll like him.” Brock declared, giving you the same response he always did whenever you asked, while Elias’ smile turned the special kind of mischievous that only he could ever pull off. You didn’t have the chance to question how he could have been so certain, because Jess called your name and insisted that you start getting ready to go.

You’d never, not once in a million years, admit it that Brock was right.

You did like ‘Tuna’. A lot more than you probably should have. He was fun and outgoing from the moment Brock introduced you to him at the bar. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized that Tuna was Jake Virtanen, your secret hockey crush. When Jess started seeing Brock, she showed you the entire Canucks roster. Jake’s piercing blue eyes struck out to you from the moment you saw his picture, but other than a ‘oh he’s cute’ and a mental note of his name and number, you kept quiet.

Now, he was standing before you, handing extended for you to shake with a dazzling smile that nearly made you forget your own name.

“I’m Jake.” He said brightly, and you offered your own smile in return as you slipped your hand into his meekly. Your face warmed at his touch, and if you possessed the ability to look away from Jake, you would have seen the shit-eating grin Brock wore. But you couldn’t, and instead you saw the way Jake’s gaze stayed on you, his own cheeks turning red. “What’re you drinking? I’m buying tonight.”

And thus, an amazing friendship grew. Which, for whatever reason, Brock seemed to loathe.

He was insistent that there was something more between you and Jake, which you vehemently denied, and each time your cheeks would burn brightly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want anything more with Jake, in the few months that you had gotten to know him, he had become one of your closest friends and the person you told everything too.

And your secret hockey crush turned into full blown feelings. Most of your time was spent with him, even if you felt nothing but butterflies in your stomach whenever he was near. Only a few short months after meeting him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was a constant presence in your life, as sure as you were that the sun would rise, you knew that Jake would be there for you.

With a schedule as crazy as a professional athlete’s, you jumped on any opportunity to spend time with Jake and any of the guys on the team, who all quickly became good friends of yours, along with their partners. Currently, you were at a diner, getting a quick lunch with Jake, Petey, and Brock, the two blondes sharing a side of the booth opposite of you.

Jake was in the middle of animatedly telling a story, and you watched with your undivided attention. Well, nearly undivided, since he had swung an arm around your shoulders shortly after sitting down and the simple contact had your heart beating like crazy. Petey had sent you no less than three shit-eating grins, and Brock was openly chuckling at how flustered you were. You were just thankful Jake was as oblivious as he was.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Jake asked, jostling you with the arm that was around his shouler to get your attention as soon as he finished his story. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to cover up the fact that you had been openly staring at him as he spoke. “Perfect. Alright, I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to meet with my nutritionist.”

There was a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as he tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover both his bill and yours, since he always insisted on paying for you. Before he could slide out of the booth, though, he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, an innocent act that had your heart doing cartwheels. You avoided Petey and Brock’s gazes, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. It was only when the bell chimed on the door signalling that Jake had left, did someone speak up.

“Oh, come on!” Brock groaned, and you shot him a curious look. He ignored you, turning to face Elias, who was grinning in amusement. “I’m just going to tell her. It’s painful at this point.”

“Tell me what?” You question, nerves seeping into you, watching Elias shrug and grin wider. Instantly, your mind thought about the worst, like someone was getting traded or something similar, but nothing could have prepared you for what Brock said next.

“Jake is in love with you.”

“What? No, he’s not.” You spluttered, eyes wide and cheeks warm. Brock rolled his eyes at you, a scoff leaving his lips as if he thought his teammate’s apparent affection was obvious.

“He talks about you all the time.” Petey offered, and you fell silent. Elias wasn’t one to mess around with something like that. Sure, he made sly comments that had you laughing everytime, but this was different.

“He thinks you could never like him back, so we have to listen to him complain about it.” Brock’s tone was serious, but you could hear the subtle chirp. You pursed your lips, dropping your focus onto your plate to avoid meeting either of their gazes.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You settled on saying, though just because you dropped the conversation, it didn’t mean that you stopped thinking about it.

Even hours later as you were walking through the doors of the arena, you were still thinking about it. Though, you were quickly distracted as Jess led you through the crowd to find your seats and watch warm-ups.

Despite your inner turmoil, the Virtanen jersey felt right on your shoulders, now a regular part of your wardrobe. When Jake had found out that you had no idea about hockey, he had bought you the number eighteen Canucks sweater, along with tickets to just about every home game, claiming you were his good luck charm. When he gave you his jersey, he stated that it was to make your hockey experience complete—thought now you weren’t so sure.

Brock’s words from earlier in the day were still bouncing in your head. You had a hard time believing they were true, but then you thought over nearly every interaction you had with Jake. They all had a common theme—Jake was always looking at you with a softness to his eyes that you had, at the time, chaked up to his friendliness. Now, thinking back, you recognized the look. It was the same look you gave him.

A look of utter adoration and total love.

You settled into your seat to watch the game with a wide smile on your face, borderline giddy with the conclusion you had come to. You decided that after the game, when you would be going back to Jake’s for a movie night and a sleepover, a tradition that had been established after celebrating a win too hard one night and you spent the night at his place, and at the following brunch it was decided his guest room would be yours after any home games. Though, if you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room.

Your happiness only lasted until halfway through the first period, and quickly dread formed in the pit of your stomach. The game was back and forth, neither team able to keep possession of the puck for very long. Petey scored first, and you cheered loudly, but clamped your mouth shut when a player on the opposite team—you couldn’t see a name on his jersey, and even so, you didn’t pay attention to any hockey team outside of Vancouver—started shoving Jake. Of course, Jake was running his mouth and shoving back, and it was only when a ref skated between the two players did you let out a breath of relief you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Apparently, Jake pissed off the other team a lot more than you originally thought.

You would have sworn he was being targeted. Everytime he was on the ice, it seemed, that an opposing player would check him into the boards. He wad getting hit hard from all angles, he got tripped twice but only drew a penalty on one—and if you screamed bullshit! at the ref, then who would have blamed you—and got into a fight late in the second after an opposing player shoved into Thatcher.

It was the third period when things really went awry.

It was the final minutes of the period, Vancouver up by one, thanks to Bo’s goal at the end of the second. The Canucks were fighting to hold on, maybe score an extra point to cement their victory, while the other team was getting desperate. And they were playing dirty, too.

You didn’t really register the gasp that fell from your lips as some unknown opponent slammed Jake into the boards, head on, with clear intent to injure him. You did remember jumping to your feet, as if that would make everything better.

Jess, who you hadn’t really acknowledged was sitting next to you in your stress, gripped your arm tightly. You watched in horror as Jake stayed down, hands holding his head as the athletic trainer jogged across the ice with the assistance of Troy Stetcher. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake, but if you could, you would have seen Brock looking worriedly from his injured teammate to where he knew you were in the stands.

It felt like years later when Jake finally stood, and while leaning heavily on his trainer and Troy, he went down the tunnel. You sat down stifly into your seat, leg bouncing in nerves and fingers tapping an unknown pattern as you anxiously waited for the game to be over so you could check on Jake.

Five minute major, game misconduct.

Good, you thought, but you kept your mouth clamped shut as nausea swirl in your stomach. Distantly, you heard Jess say that the opposing player was most likely going to get fined for his actions. You knew hockey was a hard hitting sport, but that was terrible. You had seen Jake hurt before, blocked shots, highsticks, and the sorts—but not once had it taken him that long to get back up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the game, you were pretty sure that at some point Quinn had scored, but eventually Jess was leading you down to the tunnel where had to meet the other players. Holly, Bo’s wife, had tried to assure you that Jake would be fine the moment she saw you.

“He’s got a thick skull.” She tried to lighten the mood, but all you could muster was a weak smile and a laugh that sounded forced and foriegn to even your own ears. You listened to the other wives and girlfriends of players chatter about who knows what—certainly not you, you were staring at the door you knew the boys emerged from—for minutes. The girls knew you, how you were always around Jake, acting like a couple but not once taking that extra step, so they knew how stressed you were, waiting for the verdict.

Elias was the first one to exit the room, heading straight to you with a tiny, reassuring, smile on his face. Your arms were crossed tightly across your body, an indicator of just how uncomfortable you were in the moment.

“He’s fine. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” He told you quietly. Though it helped calmed you slightly, you couldn’t get the imagine of him laying on the ice out of your head. You nodded your head in thanks, before he patted your shoulder comfortingly and departed. Quinn was next out, shooting you a pitiful smile. Tanev, Toffoli, and Edler all came out before finally, the brunette you had been waiting for emerged with Brock at his side.

He looked terrible, his tie was loose around his neck, hair a mess from the quick post-game shower he had just taken. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked so tired that your heart clenched in your chest.

“How are you?” You asked quietly once he stopped before you. Jess and Brock left to give you some privacy, but you didn’t notice in the slightest. Your focus was on Jake—like it always was.

“A little beat up, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off his injured like it was nothing. You pouted for a moment, knowing he was playing down the severity of it. He seemed to sense your disbelief, because he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You sank into the embrace, reciprocating the hug with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” You threatened into the fabric of his suit, wrapping your arms tiger around his middle. He chuckled lowly, holding you just as tight in return. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your stomach a lightning storm of nerves.

“I’ll try not to.” He assured you quietly, dropping a kiss to top of your head. You thought back to your decision before the game, how you were going to confront both his feelings and yours, and decided that it could wait just a little bit longer.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You mumbled, pulling away sightly. He nodded and you, and you were pleasantly surprised as he slipped his hand into yours, threading your fingers together, as you headed in the direction of his car.

You insisted on driving, and Jake only protested slightly. The ride was quiet, and you could tell something was bothering him, but chose to stay quiet and let him come to you when he was ready. Or at least until you got back to his home. Instead, you listened to his music play softly from the car as you weaved through the streets of Vancouver, taking the familiar path to Jake’s place.

When you finally arrived, he slipped into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, and you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he returned, he was in a Canucks hoodie and pair of grey sweats, and instead of sitting next to you on the couch, he laid across it so his head was in your lap. Instantly, your hand threaded though his hair and you scratched at his scalp, something you knew he loved. His eyes fluttered shut at the action, and he hummed contentedly.

“You scared me tonight.” You said softly after a moment. You tried to will away the tears that welled up in your eyes, remembering how it felt to see him laying on the ice, injured. It tore you in two, you had never felt more sick to your stomach at a sight than you did when he was down.

“I know.” He sighed queitly in response. Not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady, you chose not to respond right away. He reached a hand up, grabbing yours out of his hair and pressing a kiss to your palm, before threading your fingers through his and resting it on his chest.

And then, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past your lips—

“I love you too much to see you get hurt like that.” You hated how your voice cracked, and most of all you hated how you confessed your feelings. You wanted to do so during a happy moment, one shared with smiles and he’d tell you he felt the same, but no, you were holding back tears on his couch as he tensed, your words registering.

“What?” He questioned, sitting up abruptly. You would have thought that you had screwed everything up, if it weren’t for the near-death grip he had on your hand. Still, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead focused on the coffee table. Gently, with his free hand, he cupped your jaw, turning so you were facing him. It was then that you realized that you were crying, silent tear tracks running down your cheeks that he brushed away carefully as he studied your face intently. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.” You choked out, voice tight. “And I’m new to the hockey thing, so I’m not used to seeing hits like that and I—”

Your ramblings were cut short as Jake surged forward, connecting your lips to his. It took you a moment to react, but your free hand eventually moved to the back of his neck, your other still gripped in yours. The kiss wasn’t heated, but loaded with so much passion and emotion it made your head swirl. Months of casual flirting and innocent touches built to this moment, and you would be lying if you said you were aware of how long you actually were pressed against him.

Eventually, he did pull back, a wide and dopey grin on his face. You smiled just as brightly, the hand on the back of his neck toying slightly with the strands of hair there. Chasing your lips for a few quick pecks that your readily complied with.

“I love you, too.” He hummed, seemingly unable to tear his focus from you. You didn’t mind, not one bit, considering he had you attention from the moment you had met.

“I know.” You grinned, watching as his brows pull together in confusion, a silent question and urge for you to elaborate. With a giggle, you explained. “Brock told me.”

“Of course he did.” Jake groaned, tipping his head back. You chuckled at his dramatics, looking at him with the same fond look you always did. Only this time, you didn’t have to worry about him finding out. Your hand moved from behind his head to his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. You smiled as he brought his attenton back to you, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, he’s been trying to set me up with you this entire time.”

“Yeah, he told me that I’d like you the night we met. He and Petey were planning this.” You explained, watching as he lifted your joined hands and kissed the back of yours, a barking laugh leaving him as you finished your sentence.

“Was he right?” He asked cheekily, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest so he could cuddle you. You admired him with a soft smile, watching as he grabbed the remote on the couch beside him to put on a movie. Never in a millions years would you admit that Brock was right, but you with the way Jake was smiling, you decided to make an acception.

“Definitely.”

#jake virtanen #Jake Virtanen x reader #Jake Virtanen imagine #Jake Virtanen imagines #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #NHL imagine #NHL x reader #vancouver canucks #Vancouver canucks x reader #Vancouver Canucks imagine

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years ago

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(sees another fandom that I can ask you about and cheers) Orphan Black! Thoughts? I don't know Dr Who but Tatiana is one of my favorite actors period.

Anon you are so sweet! I'm always happy to chat about fandoms and characters and whatnot, and I will never not appreciate the majesty of Tatiana's acting. That is one of the greatest parts of the show hands down.

Orphan Black, to me, is a show that had incredible potential, but didn't really live up to the excitement it created. (Loooong post ahead.)

The thing is, Orphan Black builds a chilling mystery and background, the world it gradually creates as it goes for about the first two seasons, got be very invested and made me wonder a lot about where it was going to go and what the answers were. The setup is brilliant, right from the start with that iconic cold open of Beth's suicide. The unknown is what really helped this show get as thrilling as it was, because the actual answers behind the unknown were kind of hit and miss, and it seemed like far too often, the show just wasn't interested in telling it's story. Hijinks where the clones impersonate each other in slice of life events? That's fun at first and it really works well as they're still getting to know each other. But after a while, it gets tedious, and it seems like the show would rather fuck around and have dance parties (seriously, that scene was such a #BigLippedAlligatorMoment) than focus on the story and the threat that the sisters are facing. Virtually all of Allison's plotlines are like this, they feel like they belong in a different show, and for some reason the writers insisted on giving her one of these storylines like, every season. After Allison passively murders her own friend out of suspecting that she's spying on her, I just don't feel like an arc about her running for some PTA office position even matters. It doesn't feel right.

Speaking of that, here's another example: Donnie. Why did the end of the first season suggest that he was this secret mastermind working for Leekie? The whole idea just deflates in Season 2 and doesn't really go anywhere. He just goes back to being the bumbling sweetheart he was before. Why even have him be the spy? Maybe it should have been Ainsley. Do you want to know the exact moment that I think Orphan Black went wrong? Like, the specific scene? When Leekie was killed off. The character who had thus far been the Big Bad, gets taken out in the stupidest possible way, a literal accident on Donnie's part, and it's even played for laughs. After that point, the show really struggled to regain it's footing, though I don't think it completely went off the rails until about Season 4, and it was still generally hit or miss. Like, some stuff was really good. The introduction of the Castor clones, the development of Rachel's character (I'll get to her, trust me.) and the reveal of Kendall Malone. But it seemed like so much else was just forgotten or otherwise not resolved. Whatever happened to Cal? Sure, the show wanted to focus on the sisters...but Kira deserves to know her father if she wants to. That's just one example. It's a crying shame because this show is sometimes incredible. The metaphor that I always use for situations like this, is a card game. The show has all the right cards in its hand, they're just not being played.

The two strongest characters, at least to me, were Rachel and Helena. One of these characters was superbly written and went through a devastating arc. The other was Helena. We need to talk about her. In Season 1, she really cemented herself as a memorable presence with her trademark accent, her scars, her whole damn personality (again, hats off to Tatiana) and of course, that iconic screechy theme music that accompanied her. Which at first made us jump, but eventually made us cheer. I adored Helena, and I loved the development of her relationship with Sarah. Who went from shooting her in Season 1, to being deadset on rescuring her in Season 3, being furious with Siobhan for betraying her. (This is unrelated but Siobhan has the same " twist villain fakeout" at the end of Season 1 that Donnie does, and it's quite frustrating.) And yet, I swear, the writers just didn't know what to do with Helena half the time. They put her on a bus for long stretches, including one point where she just up and leaves Allison's house in Season 4, for no given reason. And the characters just kind of...don't care. The same thing happens when she gets arrested. No one cares to try and find Helena, even though she's unstable and often a danger to those around her. Even though she's by herself with no real ability to function in society. Even though she's pregnant. There is no excuse for this, and no Sarah, that "I'm sorry, I avoided you" scene in Season 5 is not going to cut it. It's such an afterthought.

I'm being rather critical, but I hope you can tell that this is from a point of passion. I genuinely enjoyed this show and getting to watch it. Just that sometimes it didn't feel like the show cared that I was watching. However, this was not true whenever Rachel was onscreen. Look, I'm a Merula Snyde stan, so you can probably already guess how I feel about Rachel. Despite her crimes, despite her constant slipping back the dark side, I felt so bad for Rachel at the end of it all. That scene with Kira really sums it up. "Who hurt you?" "All of them." And no scene is more intense than when she stabs out the eye cam. Like, I'm sorry, I pitied Rachel pretty much from Season 2 on. Her parents were horrible to her, and I'm supposed to think Ethan is the good guy here? He kills himself in front of his own daughter, telling her that she doesn't deserve him. And then Sarah shoots a pencil through her eye, causing brain damage and requiring a long recovery. I'm not saying that Sarah was wrong to do what she did, just that if I were in her shoes, I'd still feel a degree of guilt for Rachel's condition. In the end, I'm devastated that she was barred from Clone Club, when she made the right decision at the point it mattered. But there's just too much history there, and Sarah won't ever forgive her. (Though again, I do feel as though there's blame to share.) Rachel is my favorite character and I never expected her to be. But she's just so complex. Side note: "Enjoy your oophorectomy" is so damn quotable. I don't know why but I love that line.

So, Rachel's my favorite. Who's my least favorite? It might surprise you. It's Delphine. I'm sorry, but I just...I couldn't get on board with C*phine. Not after Season 3. I was waiting for the point that the show would push to finally redeem Delphine for her turncoat role, for all of the hell that she put Cosima through. By Season 5 though? I realized that as far as the writers were concerned? She already was redeemed. Even though she did nothing to earn it, except be presumed dead by Cosima. The way she treats Cosima in Season 3 is actually disgusting. Her reasoning for breaking up with Cosima is circular. She has to love "all the clones" in order to be with Cosima, and the way to do that is to take over Rachel's job, which means they can't date anymore? I'm not the only one who thought that didn't make sense, right? Oh and let's talk about how she stalks Cosima's date, breaks into her house, and threatens her life. Red. Flags. Cosima even says the line, "If you're not going to be with me, just let me go." I'm sorry, that should not be something she has to beg for. Delphine's behavior made me want her to stay far, far away from Cosima. Who is, incidentally, a sweetie and I absolutely adore her. I legit have trouble remembering that Tatiana's playing her because she just looks and acts so different. That said, even though I immensely disliked Delphine, I am so very glad that they made one of the clones gay. Just like I'm glad that they made one of them trans. (Though...Tony wasn't handled especially well.)

In general, I do think the earlier seasons were stronger. The Brightborn arc, while interesting, didn't really contribute much to the overarching narrative. We got the backstory on Beth's suicide and finally learned the truth about her, I suppose. Still, even though Beth is one of my favorite of the clones, and I never expected her to be either...I feel like the actual reason given for why she took her own life was rather illogical. She apparently did it because the investigation was putting the clones in danger of another Helsinki. Okay, but just because Evie Cho says you should off yourself, doesn't mean you have to. You could just, like...stop investigating. And if you die under mysterious circumstances without explaining anything to the sisters, they're not going to be put off from the investigation. They're going to look into this even more, because they don't know why they're not supposed to. The reveal that she and Art fell in love toward the end adds an extra gut punch, but it also doesn't make sense because wouldn't Art have referenced it during the period that he thought Sarah was Beth? On the other hand, Season 4 also introduced MK. And I have such a soft spot for her. I adore that sheep-masked sweetie. Everyone always asks "Which clone would you date" (because fandoms can think of nothing else I guess) and I never see anyone give any love to MK. Her death absolutely tore me apart. I am glad Siobhan avenged her even if she went down at the same time. Side note, her last word being the affectionate "Chickens..." Broke me.

Season 5 was a strange beast. In general, it seemed like we were finally getting some answers to the questions that were hanging over us. Exploring the deep mythos. But then they kind of turned it around and made it just be a Wizard of Oz style fraud twist. Westmoreland isn't really inhumanly old, he's a charlatan. I don't know why that was necessary in a science fictional show. I've seen the interviews and I get what they were going for, it just feels like it would have been cooler and far creepier if he was actually that old. The puppet master pulling the strings the whole time. We also finally get some answers for Kira's superhuman healing abilities (though we never learn how she's telepathically connected to the clones) and I'm loving it, but the trouble is, it's inconsistent. Ethan "Why is this guy so popular, he's an asshole" Duncan told Rachel specifically that Sarah being able to have children was a fluke, that the clones were "barren by design." I don't know, the whole concept of Revival and of the "magical island" was really foreboding and tied in with the earlier references to The Island of Doctor Moreau. Especially that song about "Revival's Children" just...the shudders, man. But just having it be a regular old scam is...a letdown. I know it may be more realistic, but I don't always need realism in my scifi. The finale is interesting, in that it's mostly an epilogue. I'm glad the clones (sans Rachel) got to live happily ever after, but there are two gut punches right at the end that are total nitpicks but they bother me. Helena naming her kids after Art and Donnie? And writing a memoir that she names "Orphan Black?" Those two tropes can go die in a hole. They can enjoy an oophorectomy, because I'm so sick of them.

The potential of Orphan Black was practically infinite. The results of Orphan Black fell frustratingly short.

#Orphan Black #Alison Hendrix #Rachel Duncan #Helena Orphan Black #Sarah Manning #Cosima Niehaus #Long Post #Beth Childs #Ramblings #Veera Suominen #Donnie Hendrix #Aldous Leekie #Ethan Duncan #Delphine Cormier #Siobhan Sadler #Clone Club #Arthur Bell #Tatiana Maslany

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chaos-caffeinated · 4 years ago

Text

Emotions can help you remember Part 2 (Sebastian Michaelis x reader)

A/N: Part two is here, excited as always, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you so much for the comments, for the support. I did not know that I had the date set to that day, I thought it was the 19th, but oh well, it’s done. I hope this second part satisifes as the continuing part.

Not requested

Rated: NSFT/W, 18+

~~~

Yes, I do love using Gifs that send a chill down your back, it may even help trigger some emotions for sexual purposes ding ding :)

Also extra note, Microsoft Bing Translator was used, so 1) Do not come at me for any mistakes 2) Do not start requesting stories in French please, gracias!

Part 1: https://chaos-caffeinated.tumblr.com/post/623644027625127936/emotions-can-help-you-remember-13-sebastian-x

The moment you heard the bell when someone walked into the shop, you greeted them. While Nina was busy tailoring in the back, you were in charge with inventory; looking up you greeted the client with a smile, “Hello, welcome to- Earl of Phantomhive, it’s so good to see you again.” You perked up, setting down your quill and walking around the counter to greet him, “What brings you here today, Lord Phantomhive? I can call over Madam to prepare your tailoring.”

The earl nodded at you in acknowledgement, even replying, “There’s no need for that, Miss. (L/N). Actually I am here to ask Nina for a favor, but I need both of your presence.”

Confused, you just had to nod, “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

You head towards the back and Ciel called forward Sebastian, “Sebastian, see what you can know about her and you can decide on it.”

He nods, placing his hand over his chest and leaning forward, “Yes, my lord.” He smirked softly and stood up on point when Nina and you walked out.

“Lord Phantomhive? You wanted to see us?” Nina asked in a confused manner, but remaining straight.

“Yes, I wanted to ask about Miss. (L/N) living at my manor for a few days. I figure you would be busy, so I wanted Miss. (L/N) to take note on what outfits-...”

While you and Nina listened, Sebastian strolled his way to your side, tapped on your shoulder softly. When you turn to glance at him, he had that same smirk he always possess on his pale face with piercing red eyes and nodded his head subtly towards the backroom, enticing you further. However, you were ready to say no to pay attention to the earl when he raised his hand to yours and pulled lightly, his grip on your fingers were light, but they guided you to the backroom you were previously in.

How he managed to get your own body to obey his silent commands were unknown. Since the last meeting, you were curious for more, you were beginning crave more of him. His comments, his words, his teasing yet professional manners were all getting to you. But you needn't him enough to go after him.

You asked in a whisper, “Sebastian, what is this about?” You asked confused, “Why does Lord Phantomhive want me to spend a few days in his manor?”

Instead of answering your questions, he added a few of his instead, “I was actually just going to ask you about this. Tell me, Miss. (L/N), how did you come about to work for Miss. Hopkins?"

Hesitant about revealing some information, you lightly shrugged, "My father works as a merchant, and I started working with him since I was 8. When I began to work, the sales increased dramatically until Madam stepped foot in the store when I was 17. She said because of my 'beauty' that she would help me obtain enough money to help my parents live a peaceful life without having to struggle. I'll occasionally have some modeling sessions with her clothing, and well...that's about it."

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, raising the back of his clothed forefinger to the bottom of his lip as he stood there in thought, "So I assume you asked about her teaching tailoring to do more than modeling?"

You nodded with a smile, "Yes, she has such a charisma and how joyful she is to create clothes for people is just inspiring. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to do it."

Your smile shifted into a softer one, gazing back into a memory, "It gives me the power to gift others the opportunity to feel just as good as the elite."

The corner of his lip curved slightly as he offered a deal, assuming that you would take up on it, "Then for a few days, would you grant us the wish of you appearing as the guest of honor in the incoming ball?"

"A guest of honor in a ball? That means a lot Sebastian and I thank you, but...why?"

"My young master is going to host a party in celebration of the successful partnership with the Northern countries. It's because of you that it managed to be so." He charmed his close-eyed smile, "It would be an honor to have your presence. It would definitely be if I got to see you once more." His tone slightly shifted into his sultry one. Even his eyes radiated something, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was.

You felt a small chill down your spine, barely noticeable in his eyes, but you kept pressing, "But me? I didn't do anything but provide a suit for the lord. It's a material for many, so surely it can't be because of that."

He was taken aback from the response, he thought you would be greedy like everybody else, but you had common sense in you. Questioning, acquiring the knowledge needed. It surprised him to see that in you.

"Being the guest of honor grants you the opportunity to meet with many patrons, with future clients for Miss. Hopkins and yourself. You said you wanted to help your parents, your success here in meeting with the guests can aid in your dream at a faster pace."

When he saw your eyes widen slightly in realization, he felt the ease of getting to you was accomplished. He was ordered to get you on board with the invitation, tell his master about your history which cleared out. Because you were a noble woman, you wouldn't back out from an opportunity to help the ones you treasured. With that he had you in his grip, a step closer to not only his master's wish to use her in his plan to trap a murderer amongst the noblemen the Queen ordered to get rid of, but also his desire. He had grown to lust, to search for a simple toy whilst in contract, yet here he was obtaining the information for his selfish wants as well.

"...So Lord Phantomhive is asking Madam for permission so that I stay with you until the ball?..." Your voice trembled with nervousness as you were hit with a dilemma. You wanted to quit the modeling, having the eyes of other people made you feel uncomfortable. You tried so hard that you even asked Madam about teaching you how to tailor, but the man in front of you- the mysterious man- was giving you an opportunity to reach higher by just attending a formal event.

"Yes, at the moment they are. In the meantime, we can discuss about further responsibilities to avoid any problems."

"Well I'm sure Lord Phantomhive can help me on that then-" You were about to walk out when you see his arm place outward in front of you, his hand placed on the wall.

You stopped immediately, looking at his arm before you saw him at your peripheral.

Sebastian leaned his face forward, quiet as he stared at your reaction with his eyes half-lid and his lips pulled into a smug smirk.

“Miss. (L/N), you will be a great addition in our current situation. Having you on board can prove a good time for you as well. My master may be distracted with business partners, but his servants will be in alert if there is any discomfort. If you ever need me -in any case- I will be there in a second.” The hand beside your head guided towards your chin, softly grabbing with his forefinger resting underneath it, and his thumb gently pressing against your lips, "Like I mentioned before, it would be a great honor for me if you attended..." and he leaned closer and closer to your lips.

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken with a pink/red hue, and you moved your head aside from his hand and face getting closer. You wondered what he was doing, you wondered if you genuinely had that affect on him, but you had to stay alert.

Upon this, Sebastian was surprised as well, smirking softly and closing his eyes before backing away completely. She was smart, and she was indeed unlike other girls who would take up on the opportunity.

“A-A-and this is because... because of my ‘beauty’?... That’s the qualification?” You closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose before completely turning to the man ahead of you. If it weren’t for this, you would be blushing as you see him nearly hovering over you. His eyes seemed much darker, his bangs nearly coverng them, “It would be a brilliant way to cast your beauty, and if the compensation is not enough -or interest- we can arrange that in a meeting. I’m sure anything you ask for can be arranged, I assure you as such. It can be for Miss. Hopkins as well.” He smirked softly.

You thought for a moment, sighing softly in reluctance, “You’re very convincing, but is my presence alone the only thing needed for this event?”

Sebastian stood back, his arms crossed in a soft manner while he brought one hand up to his chin, rubbing softly, “There is one thing. We may need you to speak in fluent French, many guests there prefer to speak French for an unknown reason.”

“Wait- I-I don’t know French.” you added to which Sebastian stare at you with a semi-surprised expression, “You don’t? Well I assumed that because you worked under Miss Hopkins she would have taught you-”

You shook your head in response, “She always speaks English to me unless they are simple phrases like, ‘Bonjour, Comment-’ ... uhm...vas-tchu?” You were already messing up your pronounciation to which the butler simply stared at you with the best attempt of sympathizing.

Letting out a breath, he shook his head, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Then he smiled small, “I can provide the help needed to ensure that you do speak fluent French. You can even surprise Miss. Hopkins and avoid any language barriers within.” He offered a warm smile which you reciprocated, “Alright, wait you are going to be teaching me?” you askeed confused.

“Yes, I will.” He nodded, his smile shifting into a prideful one, almost like he was giddy to show off his ability to speak French.

“But you don’t sound like Madam at all.” You bluntly stated as you acknowledged the lack of accent.

What came out of his mouth surprised you nonetheless: “Un humain en particulier que vous devez avoir remarqué de tels détails, mais attendu de la benficiaire de Nina. Ce sera amusant à coup sûr, car je vais m’assurer de vous donner autant que l’attention, mon petit chaton.”

The way he suddenly showed you up with this second language made you not only blush, but sense a chill. His voice enunciating each syllable with ease like it was his native language made your heart flutter. You almost prefer him talking that way from now on, but you were not only blinded, but deaf of his subtle approaches.

“...So you do speak french.” You confirmed, speechless from the action.

Smiling with his eyes closed, a confident, yet playful smile, he responded, “Why yes, a Phantomhive butler who can’t do this much isn’t worth his salt, I would have high hopes for your success in learning a new, wonderful language, but I know all my students are succesful when it comes to speaking French.”

When he said that, you couldn’t help but ask, “You taught Lord Phantomhive French? A butler?” You asked curiously as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Smirking smugly, he replied, “I’m not just a mere butler, my lady. I’m simply one hell of a butler.”

A series of chills traveled down your spine as his eyes darken and his smirk remained, catching a glimpse of his whites, a sharp canine tooth showing itself. With his response, you felt pulled towards him, now a sense of being with him getting stronger. INstead of replying, you simply turned to walk to the main room witha soft blush across your cheeks as Nina was going to tell you with excitement to participate in the ball. Sebastian, on the other hand, had a soft smile on his face, his features no longer had his previous intent. He had gone back to his façade butler character as he hid the fact that he was soon going to take fully advntage of you when you two enter the manor.

Currently sitting in front of the earl in the carriage, you simply remained staring at his boots out of respect.

“As much as I respect your manners, Miss. (L/N), I’m sure your neck is sore, please just look up.” He commented, his arms were crossed as he crossed one leg over the other.

Just like he guessed, your neck was slightly strained from keeping it at a certain angle for a long time, “I’m sorry my lord, I just don’t want to offend you any way.” You responded with honesty as he focus went from the outside fields to your face, “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about that. You are a guest of honor, please do relax.” He smirked lightly, his left blue eye glinting softly, “I’m sure Sebastian explained why we needed you?”

You nodded, “Yes, my lord. A guest honor to your incoming ball?”

He nods in response, “Yes, but in addition you will be further aiding in providing extra clients for Miss. Hopkins which can help your experience with tailoring as well.”

“Yes, but if I may ask, my lord...why go that far for me to be a guest honor when I'm simply a tailor?...”

“Good question, Sebastian commented that since very little people are aware of you, it would be a great way to expand the opportunities from a wider stance. You have skills, you are smart, you need a lot more practice and how when clients occur weekly or monthly. And please, start calling me Ciel, it would be more appropiate."

“Ciel...” You pronounced it, testing it, “It’s a beautiful name.” You complimented, watching as he hesitated a smile, “Thank you.”

“However, if I have to call you Ciel, you can just call me (Y/N).” you smiled warmly.

Now he smiled small, his weight shifting underneath, “(Y/N), it’s a beautiful name.”

Ciel smiled softly before traveling over at the window to watch the scenary while recalling some events.

Sebastian knocked on the door only for Ciel to respond, "Come in."

Opening the door, Sebastian walked in and closed the door. He strolled over in front of the mahogany desk and reached out his arm, "A letter from the Queen, my lord." He gazed downwards.

Ciel was writing on a paper when he sat up, placed down the quill and took the letter. Opening it and silently reading it indifferently by himself, he hummed afterwards, "Seems we have a rotten apple in our bunch." He commented and set down the letter to focus on his dessert Sebastian brought earlier.

"Indeed, if it remains there, the others will rotten as well." Sebastian smirked, "What's your plan, my lord?"

"The murderer seems to appear in the parties, so he is invited." He sighed, "Honestly, if I have to create a party here just to catch it then it would be annoying since I have so much work to do." He chewed on his dessert when Sebastian spoke up.

"It's unfortunate we can't perform the ‘Robin’ again." He smiled smugly as Ciel choked on the last piece, blushing hard as he looked at him with an angry expression, "Shut up! I forbid you to ever speak of that event! That was utterly embarrassing, you know it."

Sebastian raised his hand to cover his mouth, "Really, I thought you were a splendid lady." He teased with a taunting tone as he chuckled into it.

Ciel felt a chill down his back as he was enraged with the teasing demon, "I said shut up!" He huffed into his chair, "Anyways..." He raised a fist to cough lightly in an attempt to brush it off, "We may have to use a decoy to this party, someone rarely anybody knows of."

Sebastian nods subtly, "Yes, I agree. What about Miss. (L/N)? I do believe she would fit the qualifications to be a decoy in the trap."

Ciel picked up the letter and read it again, "She does seem to fit the profile the murderer selects his victims from." He sighs, "Very well-..." He view the letter once more before becoming bewildered.

"Something the matter, my lord?"

"...Fluency in French. For some reason the murderer likes girls who speak french." Ciel commented in an irritant tone, "Does Miss. (L/N) even speak french?"

Sebastian pondered on it, rubbing his chin softly with his finger, "I'm uncertain about that. Judging by her accent, no, but you don't have an accent either despite being bilingual as well. How about we trick her into being a guest of honor, but not disclosing that with that with the guests?"

He sighed as he placed down the letter, "Fine by me, just don’t mention anything to her about the case.” He raised the cup up to his lips and sipped on the tea.

Sebastian’s cornered lips perked up as he placed his hand over his chest and leaned forward, “Yes, my lord.”

Ciel glanced at the demon ahead of him and pondered what true intentions he had with the lady at the tailor shop. Of all the other women laying around, the name that came out of his mouth belonged to you, it was a recent visit too. Nonetheless, he just wanted the case solved.

When the carriage stopped in front of the mansion, Sebastian opened the door with his head bowed slightly, “We’ve arrived, my lord.”

After Ciel walked out, you followed, admiring the manison.

You were hopeful that you were going to have fun being with these two without realizing you were going to risk you own life as well.

#Black Butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji #chaos #sebastian michaelis nsft #sebastian michaelis smut #black butler #kuroshitsuji smut

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hwauas · 4 years ago

Text

🕊️: "the temptation between us"

choi jongho | 최종호 - 1,953 words

you were laying in your bed, thinking about your day: once again, your day had been busy. it wasn't your first day as a staff member of ateez. in fact, you've been by their side almost since the beginning. and you were a member of the make-up staff.

being here since the beginning got you close to them. of course, they're close to all their staffs. but you built an another type of friendship with them. you were very close to them: you were often eating together in different restaurants, meeting them on your free time, and you even had them coming over few time, or went to their place, to play video games or board games with them.

but you had to admit, you've got a special connexion with Jongho. even though he wasn't the type to be explicit with his feelings, he always had these words to show how much he cared about you: 'cover up, it's getting cold outside', 'text me when you're home so i'm sure you're safe', 'did you eat today? drink a glass of water every hour', 'if you can't sleep tonight, call me. i'll sing a lullaby'.

you first were confused about how caring he was. but you ended up spending a lot of time together, and so you thought it was only his way to tell you he liked you a lot as a friend.

the problem is that you started to like him way more than you should. not as a friend anymore. all these intentions, all his words, how he was with you — caring, attentive, good listener, supportive — got you falling for him. and you first denied it: you couldn't fall in love with an artist. you couldn't fall in love with him. it was impossible, forbidden and dangerous. but it was so thrilling in an another hand. dating an idol, having to hide it all from the whole world, living each moment to the fullest because it doesn't happen often.

after weeks of denying your love for him, you realised it was foolish of you. you then started to cunningly act caring towards him.

buying iced Americano when you had the chance because it was his favourite drink, getting him his favourite pastry once a week, complimenting him when you do his make-up, giving him a bottle of water and a towel after a stage or after practice, and even sending him supportive texts before practice session.

and all your actions got you both getting closer and closer.

tonight, you couldn't fall asleep. you were thinking about him again. about Jongho. and for no reason, you were missing him. your soul, your heart, your brain, each part of your body was missing him.

and as you were looking up to the ceiling, in your dark room, illuminated only by the moon, listening to the rain drops against your window, your screen phone turned on, illuminating a little more your room. it was a message. but who could it be at almost 1am in the morning? why would someone text you this late?

you extended your arm to grab your phone. when you unlocked it, you immediately saw the text message: it was Jongho. and his text was pretty curious: « y/n, if you're not sleeping, please text me back. »

you frowned, not sure about what was behind his text. was he good? was he sad? did he discovered you were in love with him and was he mad at you?

with shaky hands, you answered him.

you heart was still beating fast because of all the things he said. you just couldn't believe Jongho confessed to you. all this was sudden, even though a part of you expected him to be in love with you too. and in the euphoria of the moment, you forgot about all the problems and the dangers. you were just too happy to think about this. Jongho, your beloved one, in love with you and here.

you got up from your bed, glancing outside to see the rain falling. you quickly went to your bathroom to take a towel, and rushed through the darkness of your apparemment to the front door. you opened it without any hesitation. Jongho was standing here, completely wet by the rain. water drops were falling from his hair. under an arm, he was holding a hamlet, letting you know he rode his motorcycle here.

"so, you do like me too?"

Jongho asked as if it was the main problem right now. you laughed at his question and this attitude of him.

"i do, Jongho."

you grabbed his hand softly and pulled him towards you. he entered your apartment and as you were closing the door again, he took off his shoes, placed his hamlet on a piece of furniture, and removed his perfecto. even the shirt under his jacket was wet, and against his skin.

"say it. say the words."

"or what?~"

you had this smirk on your lips, feeling comfortable enough to tease him now. meanwhile, you tried to dry his hair with the towel, but this is when he grabbed both your wrists to trap you between the wall and his body.

"you don't want to know."

his gaze looked serious. he was looking straight into your eyes. all you could see was love, teasing, and dominance.

your knees would have gone weak and you would have fall if he wasn't that close to you.

"i like you, Jongho."

you played along, behaving at his order. your eyes never left his, but his did. he looked down to your lips, and got a little bit closer.

"how many times did i wanted to kiss you when you were above me, doing my make up. and each time you were making-up my lips.. your gaze on my lips never failed to give me the butterflies in my stomach."

Jongho got so close you could feel his hot breathing on your lips. and it was a sweet torture, so sweet, that made your heart stop for a moment.

"and how many times did i wanted to kiss you when i was doing your make-up... being this close to your face, Jongho.. it was a torture. i couldn't do anything, but i was craving for this. for your lips. for you."

Jongho answered nothing, and kissed you. this kiss was soft. his plump lips were exactly like you expected them to be: soft, sweet because of the lips balm he always put on.

Jongho slowly let go of your wrists, and rested both his hands on your waist. and as soon as your hands were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

this kiss slowly grew more passionate. you both could feel how much you waited for this moment to come, how much you've been waiting to kiss each other. one of your hands made its to his hair. and his hands made their way down to your thighs to lift you up. you wrapped both your legs around his waist, letting him go to your bedroom.

you both broke this kiss when he placed you softly on your bed. he slid his hand through his hair to push it back, revealing his forehead. he looked extremely charismatic at this moment, with his wet shirt, his black hair back, and his eyes down to you. you couldn't help and looked away, your cheeks getting hotter and redder.

"you should take a warm shower and change your clothes. you'll catch a cold, Jjong."

"i knew it! you're weak when i do this.~"

Jongho took the towel you brought when you went to open the door, and dry his hair with it.

"of course i am.. i think you've got a lot of charisma.."

you tried to escape to go and take clothes he left over for days like this, when he stays over.

you went to the bathroom, and placed his clothes somewhere he could reach them easily once he was done showering. you also turned on the water for it to be ready.

when you felt his presence behind you, you turned over to face him. he was already shirtless, making you blush even more. even though you enjoyed this view a lot, you looked away.

"thank you, honey. but if you don't leave now, i'll be obliged to ask you if you wanna come in the shower with me."

his voice was clearly indicating you he was teasing you, and it was in a playful way. yet, this got your cheeks redder.

"n-no! i mean.. i wouldn't complain, but..!"

you were cut off by Jongho's laugh. you couldn't believe it: he was totally different from the boy you knew. maybe because telling you how he truly felt about you took off an important weight? and it just made him more comfortable around you.

"then why are you still here?"

he laughed as you softly hit his arm, whining, and went out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

he felt truly happy at this moment, and so you were: happy, content, complete.

you went to your bedroom, and sat on your bed, your legs crossed.

you were listening to the rain drops on the window, the sound of the water coming from the bathroom, lost in your thoughts. you were spacing out. but all you could think about was Jongho. all the things that happened, how you felt and what you both did.

as you were thinking about this, you realised you both gave each other signs about your shared feelings, but none of you actually took the leads before. and if Jongho hadn't done this today, how much time this would have last?

and now this happened, what did it mean? were you now his girlfriend/boyfriend? will hell the boys what happened? or will he hide this from everybody, including the boys? of course, you would be okay with any decision he would take, but the unknown just got your fears reappearing.

you were so buried in your thoughts you didn't sensed Jongho, laying down next to you. you knew he was here only when he started to rub your arm softly.

"what are you thinking about, y/n?"

you looked at him, almost surprised to see he finished quickly. you layed down in his arms, against his chest.

"i was thinking about us."

you wrapped an arm around his waist as you snuggled up into him.

"about us? why were you thinking about us? aren't you mine now?"

he held you close to him. his voice was sweet, and he tried to act cute, as if he wanted to influence your answer.

"i just wasn't sure what did that mean.~"

"why weren't you sleeping? not that i'd have preferred you to be asleep, but i told you to call me if you couldn't sleep. why didn't you call me?"

"i was thinking about you.. but i thought you were sleeping, and you wouldn't pick up the phone."

with that, Jongho held you tighter against his chest. he started to rub your hair softly, and his voice quickly filled the quite and dark room. softer than ever, he sang to you this lullaby he sang you multiple times in the past already. your eyelids felt heavier as the time flew by. as if you needed Jongho, his scent, his warmth and his voice by your side this night, you fell asleep quickly.

you smiled during your sleep as you felt Jongho's lips on your forehead, and his sweet voice whispering a 'good night, precious'.

just as you, he quickly fell asleep.

you both needed each other to sleep. you just didn't know it.

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

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otp-armada · 4 years ago

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Right before I woke up this morning, for a moment, my mind dreamt of a scene of Clarke on the Ring. She makes it to the rocket on time. It's her and Bellamy standing at the observation window, watching Earth burn. It's the two of them looking to the future, their people's and their own, together. 4x13 ends with a flash-forward of six years, but one of Spacekru as a family. As we see the eight of them laughing together at a dinner table, the camera pans to a weighted, happy glance shared between Clarke and Bellamy, him lifting their joined hands to his lips, two matching, thin rings of gold metal on their fingers. And that's how the audience comes to know they have coupled up. Boom. Out.

My ears are ringing from the collective shrieking we would have done.

My waking hours are here, and I'd like to play this scenario out to my specifications.

The first half of 5x01 is Spacekru flashbacks, showing us how they bonded to become a family and how Bellarke got together.

In the long, quiet comfort of the Ring, our heroes give voice to their past traumas and heal old grievances.

Clarke tells Bellamy about her father, Bellamy shares stories about his mother. She tells him about her father's kindness and gentle nature, his limitless heart. Jake's teases about Clarke drawing on every plain surface she could find, a habit that began with her childhood. Passionate as she was for sketching, she was in the midst of early medical training. Her exposure to the Council and the Chancellor is what gave Clarke her political acumen. Clarke recounts the games they used to watch with the Jahas. Before long, she's explaining the rules of soccer to a confused but amused Bellamy. Bellamy tells her what little he remembers about his parents before his father died. Aurora's smile. Her sacrifices for her children. Her tenacity. Her love of mythic stories she passed onto him. The overwhelming sense of responsibility she instilled in him from too early an age. Bellamy talks about the challenges of a life spent hiding a little girl under the floorboards from the Ark. Bellamy shares the rewards of being the only pair of siblings to have existed in nearly a hundred years. Unbidden by the role of big brother in Clarke's company, he gives voice to the constraints placed on his life. The hardships of living in Factory Station, while Clarke shrinks in guilt over her bountiful upbringing in Alpha. They both recall the pain of watching their parents get floated. There, in front of their eyes one second, gone forever in the blink of an eye. Clarke discloses that, while privileged, she was a lonely child. Were it not for Wells, she would have had no friends. She talks about him, what Bellamy never got to know about Wells Jaha.

The atmosphere shifts, and their conversations progress to contemporary times.

They discuss their respective tendencies to want to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. It takes time, but Clarke finally divulges why she felt compelled to leave Camp Jaha. How bereft she felt. Her nightmares and loneliness in self-imposed exile. Wandering around the freezing cold of the woods. Bellamy can't rein in the pain as he reminds Clarke that she didn't bear it all on her own. She couldn't have, not when he was the one left behind to pick up the pieces Mount Weather shredded. He was the one seeing their faces every day. She asked him to come back with her, to their people, once before, and he did. But when he asked her to do the same, she left. They both know it's not apologies he's looking for. It's a promise, a reigniting of an old promise made between two lost souls needing the other when the world threatened to drown them. They readily give in.

Their conversation takes an unexpected turn when Clarke explains why she gave in to Bellamy's plan to go undercover in Mt. Weather. For her to be strong enough to save her people, she couldn't let love hold her back, make her weak. From the second Bellamy left her sight, she regretted it. They both recognize it as the confession she didn't intend to say. Shock settles in. With newfound confidence, it triggers an admission of Bellamy's own feelings. Cue canon Bellarke.

Once the air between them is clear, it was only fair that the effects of Mt. Weather be a topic Clarke and Bellamy discuss with the third member of the room that fateful day. It leads them to the complicated subject of Jasper, the three of them breaking down in tears over their fallen friend.

Six years of peacetime spent in Clarke's company shapes perspective on the girl herself. She's not Clarke Griffin, the fierce and stoic Skaikru leader, equipped with all the answers. She's not Wanheda, the great legend. She's just a girl, with vulnerabilities, insecurities, fears, and demons, just the same as any of them. She becomes a person to them. Real flesh and blood. A human being who does indeed break. And no one is more startled by this revelation than Raven. It's another contentious relationship of Clarke's requiring time to mend. Although sharing feelings doesn't come easily to Raven, the two eventually crack their sibling-like rivalry where Abby and Finn are concerned.

It's the presence of a fellow cockroach well-versed in the glamourous lifestyle of isolation that gets Murphy out of his self-destructive streak. In their own ways, they have both been the outsiders. They make an uncanny pair of confidantes, so says the rest of the kru. But somehow, it works. Trust doesn't come easy for Murphy, and he and Clarke have their fair share of issues. Close quarters force the two of them and Emori to work it out. For all that Clarke excels at contrition, deserved and undeserved, she's also never been one to beat around the bush, no matter Murphy's preference to lash out in his signature style of sharp sarcasm at moments of his choosing. As it is for Bellamy, Clarke's belief in Murphy as a good man is an overwhelming force, one he is not sure he's worthy of, but privately welcomed nevertheless. In time, there arrives a sense of respect and loyalty between them no one foresaw.

Clarke's penchant for extending her hand to the outsiders doesn't end with Murphy and Emori. Clarke was the first to bring Echo on board and, she is the first to treat their errant Azgeda former spy as family. Post-season 4 to the series' end, Echo's character development is at the forefront of her story arc, never filtered through a subpar pairing needed to fuel an insipid love triangle where her leg of it is marked for eventual demolition.

Since I am bound by limitless imagination, let us pretend this was a 2-hour season premiere.

The flashbacks take us through the six years to the present. Spacekru's happiness is juxtaposed, as we transition to below the ground, by the hellscape Wonkru is trapped in. The second half of 5x01 is Wonkru flashbacks, a la 5x02.

5x02 takes us back to Eligius IV, to the passing of Order 11 (is that what it was called?). A young pilot named Shaw chooses to defy his captain's orders, releasing their prisoners. They proceed to take over the ship, killing Shaw's crewmates and captain, Charmaine Diyoza assuming command. She corrals Paxton McCreary and his men to her side. With their mutiny a success, Diyoza tells Shaw to plot a course for Earth. All the while, we see Shaw wrestling with the bloody aftermath of his decisions. They reach Earth's orbit, ready to go home, unknowingly under the watch of 8 survivors in space.

The Eligius prisoners touch ground on the last arable patch of land on Earth and quickly find themselves ensnared in a series of traps by an unknown number of assailants. Their assailant turns out to be a solitary preteen. They capture her, interrogate her. She speaks a language they've never heard. I'm making it a point to emphasize those infernal shock collars do not exist in my little world.

5x03 plays out similarly onboard the Eligius mothership. Our kru arrives, not to borrow a cup of sugar, but to steal the hydrazine for their journey home. Clarke, Bellamy, and kru debates the morality of killing 300 strangers in their sleep before deciding to use them as leverage. Raven and Murphy stay behind. Six Spacekru members fall to Earth and are captured by Eligius. They are taken to Diyoza, where they find a little girl dressed in Grounder garb. Bellamy and Clarke use their trump card to free themselves, Madi, and use their resources to locate Wonkru, with an additional promise to share the land and their knowledge of life on Earth.

5x04 plays out the same, more or less, without the awkward tension of a Bellarke trying to reacclimate themselves to each other's presence again. Diyoza brings Madi, Bellamy, and Clarke to Polis, where Bellarke negotiates for Wonkru's release. They meet Blodreina and her cult of warriors. Fandom squeals seeing Octavia greet her sister-in-law. Wonkru (and Blodreina) comes to realize that they have found a surviving Nightblood. Diyoza betrays the accord, taking Abby and Kane to Shallow Valley and leaving Bellarke and Madi at odds with Octavia.

5x05 sees Bellarke continuing to act in concert as a team, eager to reunite with their lost people while keeping a protective eye on Madi. Tensions brew between them and Blodreina. Marper and Echo return and they all turn back to Polis.

Blodreina refuses to grant pardon to Echo. Spacekru fights on her behalf, while Echo is willfully recruited for Octavia's mission. Madi meets Gaia under Clarke's watchful eye. When Madi is introduced to the Flame, Clarke tries to persuade her not to be swayed by the Flamekeeper's influence. Because this is my fantasy and I can do what I wish, it turns out that Clarke and Bellamy are expecting their first child. Clarke, believing the Flame to be a curse for its bearer, wants to spare Madi a bloody fate. She wants to abolish this aspect of Grounder culture, fearing the chances her child may become the next natural-born Nightblood. She dreads the possibility of her child as the next participant in the Conclave or the next Commander.

Another sidenote I am interjecting. Here, toxic motherhood isn't a defining characteristic of Clarke's, to aid in her isolation and subsequent, continual emotional decline. In my world, she gets to be a protective mother, a loving wife, a compassionate friend, and a caring daughter, all rolled in one little blonde package. She gives love freely, as she does in canon, but receives it in kind. She doesn't sink to rock bottom, nor must she, to be the heroine she is. She draws on the good and the bad experiences she's had to teach others. She imparts her lessons to those in need. Love is a commodity her life isn’t devoid of.

Clarke and Bellamy argue over what to do about Blodreina. Neither wants her to be harmed, but Bellamy maintains that she is, above all, his sister. He needs to believe Octavia is still within reach. He cannot abandon her now that they're together again. Clarke petitions Bellamy to take their family to Shallow Valley before it's too late. They compromise, agreeing to remove Octavia from the board long enough for Indra to take Diyoza's proffered deal. Their plans fail, as per 5x08, and Octavia arrests Clarke, an execution set for after the baby’s birth. We retain the glorious Blake scene of 5x08. It breaks Bellamy's heart to hurt Octavia, but she forced his hand. He has to protect his wife and their baby.

Tensions come to a head between husband and wife, courtesy of 5x09. Bellamy, having exhausted all other options, decides Madi must ascend to Commander to accomplish their goals. It is the only way to protect them all and save the valley. I am once again interrupting my spiel to remark that Clarke knows, unequivocally, she is included on the shortlist of family Bellamy is most ardently trying to protect. Forget "included," she's at the top. Clarke, ever the protective mother, disagrees, citing endangerment to Madi from Octavia and her patriots. Clarke argues that, of Diyoza and Octavia, Diyoza is the lesser evil to their family. As long as they remain within Diyoza's rules, they have nothing to fear from her. Bellamy, seeing Clarke's deep-rooted fear, agrees.

They are delayed by Marper, who wish to stay within the bunker, living off the revitalized algae farm. Bellamy and Clarke don't want to leave them behind until Monty points out that they, for once, deserve the chance to choose their fate, as all of the people of Earth. Octavia recuperates in time to arrest Bellamy, sending him to the fighting pit. Clarke fights to defend him but is detained. Clarke wants to fight alongside him, but they both know she has to live to raise their baby. They are permitted a final goodbye, and they have an emotional last exchange, a.k.a. Kabby parallel. Like Kane before him, Indra is forced to separate another family.

Octavia assures Bellamy that the baby will be under her protection. By now, Bellamy has reached the end of his rope with his baby sister. He loves her, but he can't distinguish her from the monster she's become, and it's about to cost him a life with his family. Disgusted, Bellamy scoffs at her overtures. He reminds her that his child deserves to have its parents. Clarke's earlier words come back as he tells her that she is his family's worst enemy. It wasn't enough for Aurora to leave him responsible for raising his sister at six years old. For the first time, his life is right, and she's the one who's about to take it away. He reminds her what it was like to lose her mother at 17, to never know her father. She knows how devastating it feels. Yet, left up to her, his child would be an orphan. He finishes with a devastating blow: it'll be those he holds as his family who will take care of his wife and child.

Clarke breaks free of her restraints, making plans to cause disruption to the bunker and getting Bellamy out in the ensuing chaos. She is stopped by Monty, who wants to use the opportunity to give Wonkru a better choice. Clarke tells him she isn't gambling Bellamy's life. Monty breaks again, pointing out that the last time he helped her and Bellamy, they split blood, and their plans still failed. Clarke reluctantly relents out of guilt, knowing how Mount Weather continues to haunt Monty. She does, after all, trust him with her life.

Bellamy fights Indra in the pits until the proceedings are interrupted by an intervening Monty, brandishing a pure, white flower in a sea of blood and darkness. Just as he begins to sway Wonkru to his non-volatile solution to the impending war, Blodreina forces compliance by burning the algae farm.

As Wonkru mobilizes for war, the fractured Spacekru and Madi take the rover to the valley to find their friends. They destroy the worms in transit.

They save an incapacitated Abby, who later recounts the Dark Year. Bellamy can't stop the horror he feels at the ordeal his sister has lived through. He feels a pang of guilt he knows is irrational while wrestling with the knowledge that she is still responsible for her choices now.

They reunite with the rest of Spacekru and are surprised to learn McCreary has taken control of the camp. With Diyoza and Kane's assistance, the eye in the sky is reinstalled, giving Eligius the advantage. As much as they want to prevent this war, they cannot leave Wonkru to die in the gorge. The group breaks off. One team is sent to disable the eye in the sky. The other team uses Madi's knowledge of the valley's layout to head off to fight alongside Wonkru in the gorge.

By the time they arrive safely, only Octavia, Indra, and Gaia are left alive. Bellamy convinces Octavia to retreat instead of sacrificing herself. He tells her she has to live with what she's done instead of taking the easy way out. For the most part, I'm picturing the scenes play out as they did in canon. At base camp, Wonkru is in disarray. Too many bodies are left littered from this war, with Blodreina at fault. To stop the in-fighting, Madi attempts to assume control by invoking her natural right to lead as a Nightblood. Some dissent, claiming she is not yet Commander. With support from Gaia, Octavia, and Bellamy (who makes sure this is what she wants), they sway Wonkru to Madi's side. Freshly invigorated, Wonkru prepares for a second assault.

Back on the Eligius ship, Clarke, Raven, and Shaw release an imprisoned Diyoza. They allow themselves to be captured and taken to the ship's central control. While McCreary attempts to force Raven to pilot their ship, she and Clarke regain control. Meanwhile, Bellamy convinces Madi to let the prisoners live.

From here, may I present two alternatives:

Scenario 1: Clarke kills McCreary before he can launch the missile from the mothership. With Spacekru controlling the ship's weaponry and Wonkru overtaking the prisoners, Eligius capitulates. After much deliberation, a new accord is reached, allowing for all survivors to live in peace as a singular society. Spacekru gets their 80 acres. The last of the 10(2) become parents to the next generation. It takes time, but Bellamy and Octavia's relationship heals. Eventually, she earns back her place in his life as his sister. She becomes one of many to welcome Bellarke's little one to the world, ecstatic to be a loving aunt. Generations later, the Earth recovers.

Scenario #2: The missile is launched. Earth's survivors must escape to space to survive. Marper opts out of cryosleep and has a son. It takes Monty ten years to realize Earth may never recover from its last doomsday. He wakes Spacekru+ to determine options. Between him, Raven, and Shaw, the three configure a self-running algorithm to decode the Eligius III mission files. They wire the pods to awaken its occupants every decade to check the algorithm's progress. The McIntyre-Greens go into cryosleep with some gentle persuasion from Bellarke. They won't leave their people behind. Thirty years later, Earth remains dormant. The files reveal the existence of a planet that could support human life, lightyears away, in the binary star system in the Goldilocks zone. They plot a course.

No, it's not as thrilling as the original ending. But if our heroes are going to traipse across the universe, only to return to their home planet, then Marper will not be sacrificed for nada. They will live out their days, a little older, a little wiser, but surrounded by their friends. They will not say farewell to their son at his ripe old age of 26.

There isn't much I would change about season 6, not where its major storylines are concerned. Clarke meets Cillian for his insight on Abby and Kane's deteriorating conditions. I would alter Madi's arc to where she takes the Flame in Sanctum and uses the time while the grounders are in cryosleep to train under Gaia's tutelage. Madi becomes attached to Bellarke, and it leaves her susceptible to Sheidheda's influence when her newfound familial figures find themselves at risk from the Primes. She'd see Sheidheda as a necessary evil to save her people, not unlike Clarke submitting to Lxa's clout. I would have Sheidheda preying on Madi's fears that she'd be alone again as she was during Praimfaya if she doesn't respond with vigor.

Season 7 gets a similar, substantial overhaul I've been thinking about for months but haven't yet written down.

The end.

(When am I going to stop with these sidenotes? After this last point, I promise.) Jason ran too tight a ship to let his post-apocalypse masterpiece become overtaken by frivolous romance. Without this pitfall, what stopped him from coupling Bellarke up before the end? Nothing. He could have a Bellarke that remained symbolic of the show's themes and mythos. A show that thrives on chaos would never run out of conflict to stir the pot. Falling apart and weaving themselves back together has been the model of their relationship since season one. Why couldn't they do this and be a couple? Why couldn't they have the Memori Model? They could have, but Jason chose the path of the slowburn. There's no fault in this. There is a fault in choosing to rescind the previously established story when it comes time for the threads to finally tie together. And I will never forgive him for it.

#bellarke #the 100 #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #clarke x bellamy #bellamy x clarke #my post #sandy's musings #this is awful i know and i'm sorry #I just needed a happy fix-it and this happened #the 100 fix-it #alternate season 5

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stargazerholland · 4 years ago

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Home - Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary : You’re left to do an English assignment that catches you off guard, but Peter may or may not have been your inspiration.

Warnings: Cussing (let me know if you find any, though!)

Words: 3.2 k

What is home? The message was sprawled across the board as your English teacher, Mr. Gilloway stared at the class, eyebrows scrunched up and his hooked nose crinkled. The soft light bounced off of his bald head.

“Since you all like to complain about wanting to go home, you might as well write down what is home. You can either write it as a descriptive piece, because I’d live to know why you want to go so badly,” he said sarcastically, “Or whatever comes to mind. It’s due in a month, so Flash, you better not complain about not having completed your work. You will also have to present in front of the class just so I can hear your wonderful voices grace my god-awful days. Class dismissed.”

You had no idea as to what is home to you, as you’ve never felt at home wherever you go. It seemed as though you never stuck to one place. A million thoughts ran through your mind thinking of a solution as to how you were going to come up with an answer, when you meet up with your best friends, Ned Leeds and Peter Parker near the school’s overcrowded parking lot.

“Hey, Y/N! Are you ok? You look a bit.. distracted.” Ned stated, his voice laced with concern. Ned always looked out for you, right after Peter. The duo had welcomed you into their “super secret that no other soul should ever be told cult” with open arms, when you had first moved to Queens. Overtime, the three of you were inseparable, the school knowing you as the three who would be sitting in the quiet, snug corner of the cafeteria fighting over who was the actual hero in Star Wars.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thrown ‘off the rails’, if that’s even a saying,” You created air quotes to try to emphasize it, “it’s just Mr. Gilloway being a pain in the ass with his ‘deep and meaningful projects’ that are supposed to bring us to a realization of some unknown idea to our ‘uneducated minds’, whatever he means.” The Polynesian boy smiled, his pudgy cheeks showing off the rosiness of his almond skin tone.

“Peter and I both told you not to take AP English and look at where it got you, huh,” he taunted, as you looked to see both of them give their signature ‘I told you so’ faces, with their eyebrows raised and an amused smile, “just goes to show that we’re always right.”

With a roll of your eyes, you moved on to go home,

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mom. I’m gonna head out now. See you in chem tomorrow.” Before you left to catch the subway, Peter grabbed your wrist and said,

“Wanna come over? May misses you and we’d love to have you for the evening.”

You quickly nodded in affirmation and sent your mom a text to let her know about your whereabouts. The ride to his place was the same as always, sharing the headphones to listen to AC/DC, you complaining about Flash being your lab partner, and Peter sharing the previous night’s events during his patrol. Everything felt right at the moment, as if he was your safety blanket. Peter had the ability to radiate this sense of comfort even if you were across the room from him.

The subway finally stopped at your final destination, and you soon found yourself in the small, cozy apartment. It was the same as always, the soft grey throw blanket draped over the back of the worn out brown couch, and the smell of charred bread in the air. It was simple, just like the family. You sent a simple wave to Peter’s Aunt May and followed Peter to his room to start on your Chemistry homework.

Hours later, there were papers filled with math calculations and Chemistry formulas scattering the small room, as Peter was munching on some cheese-flavored potato chips.

“Did you get seventeen moles of copper nitrate for number 8?” Peter inquired, causing you to let out a groan.

“It’s seventeen? I got twenty-nine. Pete, I’m a hopeless teenager who doesn’t understand a single thing about this right now,” You heard a chuckle across from you and looked up, only to find Peter staring at you, something was different about his expression, but you still threw you eraser at him. Peter simply replied,

“Instead of complaining, you could have just asked. Lemme see what’s wrong… Ah,” he went on to explain the confusing lesson, however everything he said became sets of useless words as you were focusing on what was happening to you. Your entire body filled with warmth, while your heart was beating feverishly, like you’d just ran a marathon. The constant feeling of elevation in your stomach was overbearing, it felt like the spark on a tungsten before it reached the gunpowder for fireworks. It was different to what authors wrote in their stories, it was so much more than what you’d imagine, but it didn’t feel like love. The constant overcame your mind until you heard Peter call your name,

“Y/N, Y/N, are you still alive? May’s calling us for dinner, it’s Thai Food Thursday.” For the rest of the night, you could feel yourself being distant and distracted from the conversation, all thanks to Peter.

A week later, you still hadn’t made any progress on your English paper, which made you dread English class even more than you had before. Your past made it harder to even get an understanding of what home even was when all you could think of was your father.

Your father was always distant from you and your mother, acting like a guest at a bed and breakfast where he was only there for the night. Some weeks, he’d have to leave for a business trip, not coming back for a few weeks, or at least you thought that until you found him at a city nearby while being on a class field trip the fifth grade. He was with a familiar woman who you’d known growing up, Aunt Lydia, your mother’s younger sister. It turned out that your father had become infatuated with her in the duration of his first marriage, eventually starting a new family with Aunt Lydia and being much happier with her. The news spread like wildfire in a forest, eventually getting to your mother last. It broke you to know that your father would rather spend his days with some other kids than with you, another woman instead of your mother. After a short 2 weeks, the two of you had packed your bags and moved to Queens to forget the past, making it seem as if everything you knew from before was now supposed to be thrown out of a window. The project was no use when now all you could think of was a cold space where tension was intermingled in the air, and pain stained into the deepest threads of the couch pillows when you thought of home.

The library was almost completely empty, which was usual considering that the people of New York had better things to do than spend their time at the library, except for you, Peter, and now Ned. It was your annual reader’s binge night, where you’d all spend the afternoon reading a book from start to end, and then go out for a sub at the small, family-owned deli from around the corner. It was a tradition, and allowed you to bask in each other’s presence without the hassle of having to talk. The sounds of iced coffee being sipped and the constant whoosh of pages could be heard throughout the day. After the author had infuriated you enough with their cliche-filled sci-fi novel, you looked up to break the silence, until the sight of the room stopped you. More specifically, Peter. The sunlight shining in through the gigantic windows had illuminated the small features of his fair, pale face, like the freckles that were sprinkled all over his nose and cheeks just as the course sugar on sugar cookies. His chestnut brown hair became an array of colors as the copper undertones shining through, as he was concentrating on the book before him. Peter’s state of peace made you feel safe, as if nothing bad was going to happen to you. The time flew by as if it were like seconds as you continued to take in his image, until you felt a twinge on the side of your head, looking to your side to find a plastic straw on the ground.

“Y/N, you can stare at Peter after finishing the book. Now hurry up or else Mr. Delmar’s is gonna close up shop before we even finish!” Ned exclaimed as he smirked at your actions. Peter softly chuckled as you flipped off Ned, before all three of you went back to the book. While you mindlessly flipped pages, all that you could ponder was the same weird feeling that you felt at Peter’s house. It was almost as if you belonged there, as if you weren’t an outcast who had came out of nowhere. There was something about the feelings you had that you couldn’t comprehend completely, but it was becoming more and more prominent to you each day. Whatever the universe is trying to tell me, it sure is fucking me over, you thought, just as you saw your best friends close their books. Peter saw your expression, it was evident that you were deep in thought, and asked,

“You okay, Y/N?” To which you simply replied in the most New York way possible,

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wanna go grabba sub now?”

You picked up the group’s sandwiches and headed over when you heard Ned and Peter talking about you,

“I don’t know, Ned, Y/N is hard to be around when she can’t even take a hint,” You stopped dead in your tracks, like gravity was pulling you down and you weren’t able to move your feet. It felt like the day at the school field trip, everything you once knew was fabricated and far from what you thought your friendship was.

“Peter, you’re going to have to tell her someday. It’s hurting you and it's probably gonna hurt her too in the future,” you took your chance and walked in before any more damage could be done to your friendship.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” You said as you sat down. The two shook their heads, muttering words that you couldn’t make out, and started a new conversation. Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but wonder about what you’d done wrong, guilt and fear flowing through your veins as if your blood had been replaced with it.

You invited Peter over the next day for dinner to repay him for when you ate at his house last time, and in hopes to try to mend whatever tension Peter was feeling. The dingy apartment that you’d been living in for the past 5 years was usually dull and quiet, your mom still hadn’t comprehended how her sister could betray her and you were left trying to feel the same way as she did when you were younger, when your family wasn’t broken. While eating the burnt ends of your chicken parm, the English project was still running on your mind. Of course Peter knew you were thinking about it, so naturally, he had to ask how the English assignment was coming along.

“I can’t connect with anyone or anything that relates to my home. I am genuinely convinced that literally everyone hates me, and soon I’ll be living alone with my three cats in a studio apartment!” You complained as your arms flew up in exaggeration. Peter, on the other hand, seemed frustrated, with his eyes in annoyance and his knuckles turning white from clenching them so hard. Peter cried,

“Well, maybe if you would just open up and try to let more people into your life, then you wouldn’t be here right now!” At this point, the tension you tried to get rid of was now a thick fog that couldn’t be seen through.

“That’s impossible, Peter! You, out of all people, know it’s hard for me to get close with someone, when practically no one finds me bearable,” you looked at him with anger, “not even you.” Peter was taken aback,

“How did you hear that?”

“So it was true,” you scoffed as you felt the wet trail of plump tears run down your cheeks, “gee, thanks a lot, Pete.” He stood up, intimidating you, as he boomed,

“Well, yeah, it is. All you ever do is push away anyone whoever tries to get close to you. You’ve built this thick barrier around everyone and it stupid. Grow up and stop acting like a four year-old, it's annoying,” and immediately walked out the tiny apartment’s door.

You sunk down in your chair, the tears flowing faster and add onto the pain-ridden apartment. There goes someone else I love, you pondered, I love you, Peter, more than I’ve loved anyone else.

Your English assignment was now due in a week and a half's worth of time and you’d barely had an outline or a single idea as to what you wanted to write about. For multiple nights, you would just sit in front of your grey, busted laptop and stare at the blank document until you’d figured it was now time to sleep. Multiple sentences that were once on the document soon disappeared by the click of a button immediately after.

As sleep-deprived teenagers rushed to leave the room, you went up to Mr. Gilloway, intimidated by the hunch on his back that formed every time he was scrolling down the New York Times about another political outburst from the Senator. It wasn’t that Mr. Gilloway was bad in person, it was just that he tended to be very unfiltered. All it took was one glance from him and you knew that you were going to take in the bitter and harshful words about not working on the assignment. But you took the leap anyway, and took all the courage you had in you to ask,

“Mr. Gilloway, I don’t know what to write for the assignment. I keep thinking about it, but nothing is coming to mind and I really have no clue as to what home is.” Squeezing you eyes, you braced for the string of words that were meaningless to him.

“Well, what was it like for you to be at home? Anyone particular who comes to mind? Or perhaps a memory that just replays over and over in your head? Remember, Y/N that home is not a definitive object, you can make it anything you want. It could be the simplest idea, or something over the top, but that is what it means to you. I have full trust in you to go with your guts and write wha’ is home to you,” Mr. Gilloway gently replied. His response was out of character compared to who he really was. It was unrecognizable, sympathy and gentleness was the last thing that would come across anyone’s mind when they thought of Mr. Gilloway. Unable to form words, you nodded your head, only to hear, “Now go, I need to catch up on what our jackass of a Senator we have right now.”

It wasn’t until you got onto your laptop once again when you knew what to write about. You finally had an idea.

It was finally the day of the presentation and your nerves got the best of you. The past week was more muted, with evenings spent writing the English assignment, and the daytime spent studying in the library in hopes to avoid Peter. It was also the most emotionally draining week, knowing you couldn’t just go up and tell him how you really felt about him.

Y/N, it’s your turn. And Flash, puh-LEASE keep the flirting for someplace else, my classroom is not a ‘Singles Mingle’,” Mr. Gilloway said. The voice at the back of your head kept telling you don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up. The anxiety of sharing something so intimate with a group of bored teenagers was nerve wracking, so much so that your hands were quivering.

“Home is an abstract idea, and to most people, it is their place to go to sleep, eat, and repeat. In my entire life, I'd never felt like I was at home until just recently when I came to know how I know I am at home. Home is a blend of emotions, where there are multiple feelings every time you’re there, A sense of belonging, where no matter how different, broken, or mismanaged a person is, they still know that the very spot will always let them be themselves. Home is where a person feels comfort and safety, where they know that they will be supported and consoled through all the times you’ve been through. A sense of adoration that lingers in the air, making a person feel loved for who they are. The idea that a person knows who they are when they’re at this place, or with this person, makes us realize that this very place is our home. My home is with someone who I’ve known for a while, and even a glance into their brown eyes makes me feel complete. As they always say, home is where the heart lies.”

You looked around the room to see blank stares and an unusual smile from Mr. Gilloway, but it was relieving to feel the overbearing weight of not knowing yourself being lifted off your shoulders.

Once class had ended, you heard your name being called by none other than Peter.

“Was your speech about me?” Peter had a look of desperation and hope, “I feel like home to you?” How’d he listen? You thought, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I asked Mr. Gilloway,” Peter had read your mind, “Y/N, I only said I couldn’t bear you because I’m so deeply in love with you, but you never see that. It’s kind of hard to be friendzoned all the time, y’know?”

The moment you had awaited all along finally came in the least expected way, nor was it how everyone else described it to be. There were no fireworks in the background but instead, it was just as if the world had stopped around you.

“I love you too, Peter,” you whispered.

“So is it true?” With a simple nod and a small smile, you said,

“Yeah, it is about you, Peter.” A soft smile creeps up his face as he pulls you into his arms. It felt right, as if your body was perfectly molded to fit into his embrace. You decided to take the risk and pulled away, placing your hands over his pillowy cheeks, and pulled him towards you. You placed your lips on his, they were soft and smooth, with a hint of vanilla from the chapstick you made him use after seeing how rough they were a few months back. Peter kissed back, trying to empty all the love and adoration he had kept inside of him.

You couldn’t tell what the future held for you two, but you made a vow, right then and there that you would protect him with your entire heart, help him after his patrol’s and night, and most importantly, keep him in your heart for the rest of your life.

This was your home, right here with Peter.

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked this piece, I’ve had a a writer’s block for almost 2 years now, so to write this was a bit of a struggle, but it’s all good! Feel free to send over any requests or criticism. I also have to give an honorary mention to @wazzupmrstark! Her INCREDIBLE works gave me a bit of a push and inspo to get back to writing, so thank you so so much Kaili! (i’ll stop annoying you guys, byee :) )

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #imagine peter parker #mcu #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfics #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #stargazerhollandworks #imagine spiderman #spiderman #peter parker oneshot #spiderman one shot #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fanfic #spider-man imagines

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n-ctarinenga · 5 years ago

Text

Best Friend [ luke hemmings ]

surfer!luke au | pt.1 | word count: 5,222 | masterlist

If anyone had been your bestest friend in your life so far, it was definitely Luke Hemmings.

Since day one, when you ran into him looking at skateboards in your friend's store not far from Venice Beach, you've been somehow cosmically tethered to him.

What started out as an offer to help him pick a board and learn to skate, him telling you he's always been more of a surfer than a skater, soon turned into hanging out without your respective boards, going to shows together, being at the same parties, both of you being on your friend Michael's exclusive dinner party guest list, basically, you guys hit it off.

After hanging out with Luke more over time, you learned that he had moved to California after dropping out of university in Sydney, not happy with the path he could see his life was on and following his passions instead, which led him to the same place it led you when you left your hometown, California.

You had been one of the first true friends Luke had made after his big move, and even though you told him to lay off, he would often remind you that you were the one to help him settle into the life he has now, your friend group quickly adopting him not long before he ending up running the surf section of your friend's shop that you'd met him in all those years ago.

It started out like any normal day for you, getting up, getting ready, and heading to your job at the cafe you'd been working at for a few years now. It didn't take you long to make friends, evident by the way people greeted you like an old friend as they came in for their morning coffees or lunch break meals. You were a generally sociable person, and enjoyed the daily interaction with the regulars and new customers that would come through the doors.

It was just a little after the lunch time rush that Luke came strolling in the door, knowing well how busy you would be at the peak of rush hour.

"Afternoon handsome, what can I getcha?" You ask with a grin, leaning forward and putting your elbows on the counter to prop your head up on your fists as you looked to him.

Luke lets out a laugh as he copies your pose, him having to bend down a lot more because of his height, the small space of the counter meaning you were pretty much face to face with him.

"Coffee and a apple cinnamon muffin please, knucklehead." He responds, his accent all over the place as normal.

You give a nod and slap the counter as you push yourself up, walking to the espresso machine on the bench behind you.

"Michael came in today." Luke announces, still leaning on the counter.

"How is he?" You ask, scraping off the coffee grounds to make it level and putting it in to brew before turning back around to see him.

"Good, we've got dinner with him on Friday."

You raise your eyebrows with a nod, pleased at the news.

It wasn't unusual for you or Luke to make plans involving the other without them there, your friends joking you've been a package deal as long as you've known each other. Besides, how could you be upset considering Michael's food was involved?

"What's the theme this time?" You ask curiously.

Since Michael had become an apprentice chef at a local restaurant, he had been hosting dinner parties for his friends every couple weeks, his vegan cooking some of the best you'd ever had. To spice things up a bit, he started giving each night a theme, everyone showing up dressed in costumes to fit. It was one of your favorite nights of the week when it came around, and you were already excited at the thought of this Friday.

"Pina Colada, the song. Apparently dress code is hawiian shirts and lei's at the door." He says with a laugh.

You hold your tongue as you put the lid on his coffee, placing it on the counter in front of him.

"Go on, say it, I know you wanna." He sighs with a smile on his face.

"So are you looking forward to finally getting lei'd?" You ask with a sly smile on your face as you grab the apple cinnamon muffin from under the glass cover beside the till.

He groans dramatically, but his grin still covers his face. For the whole time you'd known Luke, while he had been on a couple dates here and there during your friendship, he hadn't been in an actual relationship since you met. Neither had you, the reason unknown to him, but it did mean you would casually poke fun at each other because of it.

"You're really on fire today y/n/n." You roll your eyes as you hand Luke his muffin and coffee, ringing up his order.

"You try getting sleep while Calum and a special guest is in the next room." You say with a raised eyebrow.

Getting what you mean, Luke laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze.

"You're a stronger person than I am. But if you do want a break, my door is always open."

You smile at him, letting out a light sigh as you pat his hand, thankful for his offer.

"I appreciate it. Now go get back to work before Sierra kicks your ass." You smirk, referring to your other best friend, and his boss.

"See ya later, sweetheart." He says with a wink, picking up his food and walking towards the door.

"Will do, darlin'." You smile.

Feeling her presence behind you, you roll your eyes as you can practically already hear her comment.

"You guys are cute together." Ali, your workmate and committed work wife says as she returns from her own lunch break.

"Ma'am." You say in a warning tone, and she brushes you off with a light laugh.

"What? I'm right."

"Yeah, you are." You think to yourself.

With Ali back, you busy yourself grabbing a muffin, before you turn to walk out back and take your own lunch break.

After replying to texts and watching too many tiktoks while you ate, you went back out front until closing, where Ali offered to shut up shop so you could get home a little earlier since she lived closer than you did.

After thanking her so many times she broke and finally told you to fuck off, you offered to return the favour whenever she needed it and made your way back to the apartment you shared with Calum.

Calum was like a brother to you. Him being a year older and around you basically since you moved to California, as not only did you end up having the same friend circle, but his sister Mali was also your boss, being the owner of the cafe.

Sighing in relief as you pull your keys and lanyard out of your pocket, you unlock the door to your apartment and quickly regret it when you hear loud moans and banging coming from Calum's room yet again.

With a frown already set on your face, you refuse to put up with another night of disrupted sleep, putting your airpods in and turning them up before venturing down the hallway to your room.

Pulling one of your bigger bags from your closet, you set to work putting some things together in a makeshift overnight kit. Grabbing a couple outfits you could wear to work tomorrow depending on your mood and the weather, as well as all your other basic items, you write a post it note message for Cal, still being able to hear the sound of the action in his room over Awsten Knight loudly trying to drown it out.

"Safe sex or no sex, you two!!" You call out as you stick the note to his door.

You collect the last of what you'd need from the bathroom, before walking out and locking the front door again behind you.

The walk between your place and Luke's wasn't that bad, it's close proximity being one of the selling points to you when you and Calum were first looking for somewhere new after your last lease ended.

You already knew that Luke would be home at this time, him finishing an hour and a half before you and spending most of that time at the beach until it passed golden hour, which was just fading as you walked out of your apartment.

Climbing up the exterior steps that lead to his apartment unit, you could already see the light on through his window, his silhouette being framed for a moment as he walked past it letting you know he was home.

Readjusting the bag over your shoulder, you step onto the "welcome" doormat you brought him as a housewarming present, knocking twice, then once, then three times.

It only takes a second for you to hear his footsteps coming towards the door, and as he opens it, a smile appears on his face as he realises who it is.

"Hey stranger." He greets with a slight grin, but you could see he was slightly confused about why you'd shown up.

"Hey, do you ah, is that offer still on the table?"

Luke's face softens as he remembers what he told you earlier in the day, raising an eyebrow.

"He was at it again huh?" He asks, and when you nod, he shakes his head as he steps aside, letting you in.

"Of course the offer is open, but you are gonna have to help me cook dinner."

You smile as you look up at him while you pass through into his apartment.

"Sounds like a plan to me." You laugh happily, making yourself at home and dropping your bag at the end of the couch as you hear Luke shut the door behind you.

Turns out veggie stir-fry is on the menu for the night, one of your favorites. You both take a knife and chopping board each, chopping up ingredients and adding them to the fry pan before Luke takes it to the stove to get the garlic and onion started while you get going on the carrots and bok choy.

You and Luke move around each other easily, naturally. You'd been in his kitchen enough times to know where everything was, and even with music playing from the corner covering the sound of your movements, you both seemed to know where each was the whole time.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the gorgeous scent of the cooking food, you lean up against the counter, crossing your arms casually and looking over to Luke.

He stood with spatula in hand, moving the food around while slightly swaying to the music. You felt a small smile come to your face, getting to admire him for a minute while he was distracted with the food in front of him.

There was a part of you that very much wanted to ignore and deny the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest around Luke, but an even bigger part of you that knew it was pointless to even try.

The feeling wasn't a stranger to you, in fact you'd been living with it nearly since the day you'd met him, even though it was a lot less back then, the seed was still planted.

But, you knew that the feeling would remain just that, a feeling. At this point in your life, you couldn't imagine what you'd do if you lost Luke. While yeah, he was your best friend, and you would regularly flirt with each other casually, there was still part of you scared that if you did let him in on the secret you hadn't told a soul, you would lose him completely. You knew the possibility of losing him was there no matter what, but you'd be damned if it was gonna be because of something you had done.

A change in song brings you back to reality, and your eyes snap to the ground, clearing your throat before speaking.

"So how have you been? We haven't caught up in a minute."

With summer fast approaching, this was peak season for Sierra's store, meaning you'd been missing out on both of your best friends lately to tourists and hobbyists coming out of hibernation.

Luke shrugs slightly, looking to you for a moment with a perplexed expression.

"It feels like we get busier every year, which I'm not complaining about at all, but it's just…. draining I guess." He sighs.

Frowning, you turn towards him more, waving slightly to let him know it's okay to keep going if he wants to.

"I end up missing things more than usual. Sleep mainly." He says with a hint of humor to his voice and a small smile on his face. "And the sea, and you, and the guys. All my favourites."

Never really being one to comfort with words, you place a supportive hand on his, as it rests on the counter beside the stove, propping him up as he stirred with the other hand. You let your thumb brush over the back of his hand, understanding exactly what he meant.

Luke smiles as he looks down, wordlessly moving his hand slightly so he can hold onto yours.

You ignore the way your heart skips a beat as you look up from your joined hands to his face, a kind smile on yours as you speak.

"We're not going anywhere hun. I know I won't be." You say softly, clearing your throat as you realise there's a small chance he could read into the last part of your sentence. "I'm pretty sure the sea isn't going anywhere either." You add on quickly.

Luke takes a deep breath, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he laughs, turning his attention back to the food as you slip your hand away from his.

"Yeah, good point."

You nod, holding your hands together in front of you and looking down at your socked feet against the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hey, uh, can you grab some plates? I think we're nearly ready to go here." Luke asks casually, diffusing the tension you could feel had built in the room.

You agree with a nod, moving around the kitchen and collecting together what you'd need. While Luke dishes up, grabbing you both drinks as well, you grab some cutlery and place mats for the table, setting them out and helping Luke carry everything the couple feet journey from the kitchen to the table before sitting down, taking a quick picture of your combined efforts before picking up your fork.

You both dive into the meal, singing your praises to his cooking skills as you complement the food in front of you. You smile as you see Luke turn a slight shade of pink as you do.

Distracted by your conversation, your empty plates sit on the table beside you as Luke pokes fun at you for what happened on some random day you'd mostly forgotten, one where you both had ended up nearly getting your friend group kicked out of a club a few months ago.

You're both laughing as you recall the details when Luke's phone starts vibrating closer to the edge of the table, him quickly catching it before it can fall.

"Shit, I'm meant to be calling my mum in ten minutes." He frowns, mad at himself for losing track of time.

"Okay. You get set up, I'll do the dishes, you should be good to go in ten if you start now." You say, jumping into action and stacking the dishes as he looks up to you to protest.

"You don't have to do the dishes, I'll just stack them and get to them later." He fights, but quickly loses the battle when you point to him, then his laptop, silently instructing him to get going.

He looks at you defiantly before deeply sighing and getting up, grabbing his laptop and setting it up on the other side of the open plan room on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You're too good to me." He sings while he does as he's told, you smiling to yourself as you run the water.

"Enjoy it while it lasts." You sing back.

The familiar chime of the Skype call ringtone emanates from the other side of the room, and you look over to see a bright grin covering Luke's face as the call connects.

Luke loved his family, and especially his mum. You knew he would still go through bouts of homesickness from missing them, which is why you knew any contact he did have with them was extremely important.

"Hey mum." Luke grins.

"Hi bub, how are you?" You hear his mum ask though the speakers.

You do your best to zone out of the conversation, wanting to give him privacy. Instead, you focus on the music still playing in the corner, though it's playing more softly than before.

Doing your best to stay quiet, your ears perk up as you hear your name from across the room.

Realizing it came through the speakers instead of from Luke, you fight your better judgment and try to eavesdrop, having no success when Luke starts to talk a lot quieter.

Why would Luke's mom ask about you? Sure you were best friends, but you didn't see yourself as that important.

Lost in your thoughts, you lose your grip on the plate in your hand, flinching as it drops back into the sink with a loud clattering noise.

"Are you okay?" Luke asks, bolting up with a concerned look on his face, ready to help in an instant.

Looking in the sink, you see the plate still fully intact and nod as you take a deep breath.

"Yeah it's all good, just lost my grip." You explain, giving him a thumbs up.

He examined you for a moment before sitting back down with his laptop, but instead of picking up where he left off, you hear his mom asking who that was, referring to you.

"Y/n is staying over, loud roommate issues." He explains with a slight laugh.

"Why are you hiding her?! I want to see the pretty girl I've heard so much about." You hear her reply, your cheeks growing pink as you do your best to smother a laugh at the light telling off he was getting.

Looking over to Luke, he raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you wanted to come over and say hi. Looking between him and the laptop, you silently mouth "you sure?" to him, receiving a small smile and a nod in return.

You dry your hands on a kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, nervously wringing your hands as you walk over to the couch, sitting down beside Luke and waving to the webcam.

"Hi Mrs. Hemmings, it's nice to finally kinda meet you." You smile as you laugh slightly.

"Nice to meet you too love! Luke's told me a lot about you, all good things I promise." She laughs lightly. Even through a screen, you could feel the warm nature of the woman who'd raised your best friend, though it did make sense his mom would be a sweetheart if he was.

"I'm glad to know I've made such an impact." You bump your elbow into Luke's arm, his head down as he laughs to himself, blonde hair falling over his face. "I promise Luke's done the same for you. I probably don't have to tell you how family proud he is."

His mom smiles, a sense of pride about her for a moment before she looks to the side of the screen where Luke would be.

"You wouldn't be able to tell with how he's trying to hide now." She teases, Luke shifting sideways so he's more in frame, your shoulders and knees now touching.

"I thought mums had to be nice to their kids in front of their friends?" He asks with squinted eyes.

"I don't remember that being a rule. Besides, you don't have the same accent I remember my son having so I'd say it's fair game."

"That's because I spend too much time with this one." Luke says, nodding his head towards you.

"Excuse me?" You say with a raised eyebrow. Luke just smiles at you, his teasing having the desired effect. You don't manage to hold onto your hard exterior for long, cracking and smiling back at him.

Liz laughs at the two of you, dispelling the moment as you both look back to her.

"Yeah we do spend a lot of time together." You say, Luke nodding in agreement as the three of you fall into easy conversation.

You end up staying for the whole video call, Liz asking you about your life, what you do, all the story details Luke had failed to tell her himself.

As you both say a lengthy goodbye, Luke promises to call Liz more between video calls, and you promise to keep an eye on him for her in the time in between those as well.

After closing his laptop, Luke leans back into the couch with a sigh.

"She likes you." He says quietly, looking over to you with soft eyes and a softer smile as you mimic his actions and lean back into the couch, turning your head to look at him.

"You think so?" You ask, just as quietly as he spoke.

He nods tiredly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, his hand squeezing your shoulder as your rest your head against his.

Ever since Luke had hit end on the call, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you, which you half blamed on the time, and half on stressing yourself out trying to make a good impression.

You can feel yourself falling asleep as you sit there, feeling comforted and comfortable as your breathing turns shallower, the scent of salt water and cologne clouding the front of your mind.

"We should probably go to bed." You suggest, right as Luke covers his mouth with his spare hand as a yawn escapes him.

"Good idea." He agrees.

He gives your shoulder another squeeze before you both get up, him moving to get you a blanket and pillow and you moving to get something to sleep in out of your bag.

Tiredly digging through, your hands pass your work uniform, toiletries, and a sweater, but not one of your old t-shirts you normally slept in.

Seeing the annoyed look on your face, Luke frowns slightly as he returns to the room.

"What's up?"

You groan as you sit back on your legs, gesturing to your bag.

"All I packed was my uniform for tomorrow and a sweater in case I got cold. I was in too much of a rush to get out of there I guess and didn't pack a shirt to sleep in." You frown, mentally scolding yourself.

"Hey, don't worry about it. You can just borrow one of my shirts." He says with a light shrug, like it's the obvious answer to the issue.

"Are you sure?" You ask, and he nods, placing the pillows and blanket down on the end of the couch.

"I'll go grab one and you can get dressed in the bathroom while I change in my room, then it's all yours." He says, and before he walks off, you call him back.

"What do you mean all mine?" You ask.

"You can have my room for the night and I'll take the couch."

You raise your eyebrow, standing up and crossing your arms.

"If you think I'm making you sleep on your couch in your own house then you obviously don't know me."

Luke sighs, well aware of your stubborn nature and already knowing he's fighting a losing battle.

"You must not know me if you think I'm gonna let you sleep on the couch." He responds.

You stare each other down for a minute, both of you not backing down on your point until you relax your face and stance, picking up your toiletries bag and shrugging.

"Guess we're sharing a bed then. I'm gonna go brush my teeth." You say casually, leaving Luke standing in the doorway of his bedroom open mouthed in shock.

As you stared yourself down in the mirror while you brushed your teeth, your internal monologue was punching you in the face repeatedly.

There’s a huge difference between passing out on the same couch together and actively choosing to sleep in the same bed together, and it was only one of those things you’d done with Luke in the past. Sure, there had been times where you had slept in Calum’s or Sierra’s beds, but with Luke, it had never been something to come up.

You remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. You and Luke are both grown adults, two stubborn grown adults, but adults all the same. You weren’t strangers to each other by any stretch, so you couldn’t figure out why the plan you’d put upon yourself made your heart beat a million times faster.

Little did you know, Luke was doing the exact same thing in the room over. As soon as you had stepped out of the room, his hands started to sweat. He was nervous, more so than he had been in a long while.

That was the thing that scared Luke the most about you, apart from the fact he’d seen you take down a man twice your size after getting cat called on Pasific Ave, was the special type of nervous that you made him without even trying. He knew the reason why it happened, not that he was willing to admit it to you, or anyone else but Ashton and his mom for that matter.

How was he meant to spend the night in the same bed as the girl he’s in love with, let alone fall asleep at all?

Mentally slapping himself in the face to make himself move, he pulls one of his favorite t-shirts from his closet, knowing that not only did you like it, but it was also one of the most comfortable things he owned.

To someone who hadn’t known Luke a while, they would be surprised to know how organized he is, clothing and home always organized just as well as the boards and gear he overlooked in Sierra’s store.

You rinse the toothpaste out of the sink, taking a deep breath as you hear Luke’s footsteps come closer. He knocks first, opening the door slowly just in case after you tell him to come in.

“Here, to sleep in. I know you like Guns n Roses.” He says with a cheeky wink as he hands you the shirt.

You scoff lightly as you take it, it being a running joke between you how much you disliked Guns n Roses, while he counted them as one of the all time greats.

“Thanks, you really know me.” You grin as you roll your eyes, lightly pushing him out of the bathroom and closing the door.

You hold the shirt up in front of you, looking in the mirror to see the difference in size between you and your best friend. While it fit normally on Luke, you could see it would graze your upper thighs, your height not all that different from his.

Taking your clothes off, you fold and stack them into a pile by the sink while you change your underwear and pull Luke’s shirt over your head, the smell of cologne and salt water hitting you again as you inspect yourself in the mirror.

Even though you had your reservations about the design on the shirt, you couldn’t deny it was one of the most comfortable things you’d ever worn.

Gathering your stuff, you open the bathroom door and walk back to your bag by the couch. Moving your uniform for the morning to the top, you put your old clothes in the bottom of your bag, calling out to Luke who must be in his bedroom.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” You call, zipping your bag again as you sit down on the couch to pull on your socks.

It was more out of habit than anything else, and consideration for the person you shared a bed with, knowing your feet always get freezing cold at night.

Luke walks out of his bedroom dressed in sweatpants and a black undershirt, pausing when he sees you. You see him take a deep breath in as you stand up, setting your bag back at the end of the couch again.

"Alright hun?" You ask, frowning slightly in confusion as he seems rooted to the spot.

He shakes himself out of it, nodding quickly before ducking into the bathroom. You stay in your spot, still confused as ever til his head pops out the door.

"You can head to bed if you like, I'll be there soon."

You nod as the door shuts again, ignoring whatever just happened as you walk to his bedroom, smiling at the sight of the glow in the dark stars you put up around the head of his bed still there from well over a year ago.

Walking over to what you could tell was the lesser used side of the bed, telling by just the lamp on the bedside table instead of the books piled on the other, you pull the bedding back, sliding between the cold sheets and letting your head fall back onto the pillow.

You let out a low groan as your body sinks into the bed, comfort washing over you as it felt like your bones sank back into the right place again after your long day.

As Luke walks back to the room, you're still lightly groaning, making him laugh as he shuts off the overhead light, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"You okay there?" He questions, pulling back the bedding on his side and sliding in next to you.

"Your bed is so fucking comfortable."

Luke just laughs at you again, turning onto his side to look at you. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to level the playing field and turn on your side too, your breath catching in your throat as you do when you realise your faces are now only inches away from each other.

You both just lay there, smiling softly as you unapologetically take in his features so close, the curve of his nose, his lips, the shade of his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Stop being cute.” He laughs, pulling your hair over your face.

"I will when you do too." You fire back.

Luke just slightly shakes his head, letting out a deep breath before leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

"Goodnight, y/n." He sighs, and as your heartbeat rings in your ears, you slowly lean forward, returning the soft kiss to his forehead.

"Goodnight Luke."

taglist: @spicycal @softbabiestan

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #surfer au #fanfic #imagine #blurb

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valhallanrose · 4 years ago

Text

Funeral Bell

Astoria’s foray into the labyrinth spawns more questions than they can find answers for on their own - but the journey to find those answers will be more disastrous than they thought.

Astoria is nonbinary, and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.

Title: Funeral Bell by PHILDEL

2.2k words. No CWs apply.

The quiet clicking of Astoria’s boots on the marble beneath their feet was deafening, punctuating the emptiness of the hall as their pacing quickened with every passing moment.

When they were well enough to travel, Myrna had done the best thing she could think of - bring Astoria down the mountains to the first Prakran port in the valley she could find and board the first ship that would let them book passage to the Republic of Galbrada.

The Whitethorn Citadel had long since been a friend of Myrna Canonach. They’d employed her for one task or another over the years, transporting artifacts and manuscripts that they feared might become damaged without the care of someone who would monitor their transport and the conditions they were kept in when traveling over sea and land. Though they paid her well for her work, they had always promised Myrna that should she need anything, their resources were at her disposal - all she needed to do was ask.

And Myrna, with Astoria in her shadow, had deemed it time to call in those favors. If anyone could explain what had happened to Astoria, it was going to be the scholars at the Citadel.

When they were granted audience, the council had made it clear that they only wanted to speak to Myrna, which left Astoria where they were now: standing out in the hall, pacing across the marble floors and wringing gloved hands nervously while the clock ticked by.

To them, it felt like Myrna had stepped inside the council room hours ago.

Voices rose beyond the heavy wooden door, but the words were unintelligible - though Astoria could make out enough to tell that someone was angry, and odds were, it was about them.

The clicking of their boots came to a halt as Astoria stopped outside the door, framed the archway as they looked down to their carefully gloved hands and tried to squash down the burning that welled up in the corners of their eyes.

This had become the new normal.

Ever since they’d come out of the labyrinth, the welcoming smiles they’d always known had changed, hiding wariness and curiosity that made them feel more like an artifact on display than a person. They wanted to scream, to cry, every time a hand was laid on their shoulder and they were asked if they were alright, because the answer was a resounding no - I’m not sure if I’ll ever be alright - but they knew the answer that was wanted was one of strength, one of ‘everything’s fine, we’ll figure this out, I’ll stop at nothing to get answers’.

They couldn’t stand being touched anymore, either. Every time they came in contact with someone’s bare skin it was like the world fell away and all they could hear was the roar of blood in their ears, the steady pounding of a heartbeat not their own echoing in their chest until they finally managed to break away from whatever spell they’d fallen under. The gloves helped with that - it reduced the chance of contact Astoria wasn’t prepared for - as did their clothing, which they chose carefully now to cover as much of their skin as possible. Even Myrna’s gentle hand on their shoulder made them jump, made them fear the trance until they realized that she too had taken to wearing gloves when trying to comfort their grandchild.

It made them feel human, in an odd way. Respected. Cared for. Like someone was still listening when it felt like their voice was being drowned out.

The hinges squealed as the door opened, drawing Astoria’s eyes up from their gloved palms to meet Myrna’s tired gaze - they noticed the irritated flush to her face and the way her hair looked ruffled from the way she ran her things through it when she was frustrated - and hesitantly took a few steps forward when Myrna beckoned for them to come inside the room and join them.

The council, or the governing body of the Citadel, was made up of five members. Three of which currently sat at the raised marble slab, notes laid out on the surface - two men, one on each side, and a woman seated in the middle who had quite a motherly smile on her face despite the situation.

“Hello, Astoria.” She greeted, setting her quill down to give them a slight wave. “You may call me Dorothea. How are you feeling?”

Like hell.

“I’m okay.” Astoria folded their arms, hands loosely gripping their sleeves as they stepped a bit closer. “How are you?”

“Worried, I’ll admit.” Dorothea sighed, folding her hands in front of herself on the table. “Astoria...your grandmother has been kind in retelling what has happened, but we worry that we aren’t getting the full story. We need to hear it from you, to make sure that we are getting the full truth.”

Myrna scoffed behind Astoria, and Dorothea shot her a look, then turned her gaze back to Astoria with an expectant expression on her face.

Please tell me this is the last time.

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Dorothea picked up her quill again and gave Astoria a nod. “When you’re ready.”

And so, Astoria began to speak, arms wrapped around themself for some sense of security and feeling like they were mere inches tall under the weight of speculative eyes. The sounds of quills scratching on paper, once comforting, was deafening - distracting enough for Astoria to lose their place a few times and need prompting to continue when they fell silent for too long.

It wasn’t the labyrinth they were afraid of, not anymore. But every time they got to the part about the sepulcher...they couldn’t keep the tremors out of their voice, no matter how many times they told the story, and they carried through until the very end. Detailing the days after, fearing madness as they lie awake in their tent and try in vain to block out the heartbeats of dozens of colleagues and friends, staying awake for days until their body shut down and forced them to sleep - it made them realize how tired they were, physically and mentally, of living life like this.

There was a long, long silence as Dorothea set her quill down, raising clasped hands to rest against her chin and staring down at Astoria with an unidentifiable look in her eye before she broke the silence by addressing them.

“Thank you, Astoria, for your candor.”

Astoria only nodded, watching as Dorothea’s gaze shifted to look behind her and address Myrna directly over their head.

“Myrna, I believe the best course of action...would be for you to enroll Astoria here, allow them to remain here for the foreseeable future while we examine their affliction -”

No.

“- it would be best if you do not stay, Myrna. We understand your concern for Astoria, but your presence might make them hesitate to share information with us -”

Not like this.

“- of course they’ll be well taken care of, and you’re welcome to visit any time -”

“Please.” Astoria whimpered, Myrna’s head turning toward them as the words caught and died in their throat. “I don’t...I don’t want…”

Their voices overtook Astoria’s, no matter how many times they opened their mouth and tried to force the words out, but...none of them would even look in their direction. It made them feel so small, so insignificant, as if they weren’t even there no matter how much Myrna argued for them to take some time to consider, that there was no rush to make a decision right that second if they didn’t know what they were dealing with.

It was too much. Too much on Astoria’s fragile heart, bearing the weight of fear and change and utter exhaustion, to not break when a hand pressed down on the scales and tipped them over the edge.

The shout that ripped from their throat would leave them hoarse for days, tears streaking down their cheeks unbidden as they finally, finally, cracked under it all.

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

It was like time...stopped.

The room was silenced in an instant. Not a bird sang through the open windows, not a page ruffled in a gnarled hand, not a pen scratched across the wooden surface of a desk - complete and utter silence, as if they’d all frozen in place no matter what they’d been doing before their outburst.

“I am not some gods-damned object to be studied, dissected, and put back together solely for your own gains!” They ripped off a glove, wiping fiercely at their cheeks in an effort to try and hold some semblance of composure. “Not a single one of you cares about how I feel, cares about what I want when I didn’t ask for any of this. I want to stop feeling like I need to crawl out of my own skin when someone touches me, I want to stop feeling like a stranger in my own body, I want to stop feeling like I’m on the brink of losing my mind at any moment.”

Distraught, Astoria whipped the glove down to the floor, hair billowing around their shoulders and sticking slightly to the wet tear-trails on their cheeks as they looked back up to the three council members seated before them.

“You can’t just...you can’t just take that choice away from me.” Their voice broke, new tears spilling over and blurring their vision behind their glasses. “I want answers. I want them, so, so badly. But I want my life back. I want to know how to control this, not just be a source of information to be gawked at until you say I’ve given you all I can. I’m...I’m tired of feeling like this. I know it won’t go back to normal, I’m not so stupid as to think there’s a way my life will ever be the same. But I want to know that I can get close to it, and I want to know I can live my life in the world out there without being afraid of myself at every unknown turn.”

When they rubbed their eyes with the heels of their hands and managed to look at this fragment of the council - really look at them - confusion overshadowed their distress as they took a single step toward the trio seated before them.

They hadn’t moved, once. They thought they were imagining it, seeing the same expression and same positions of their body right down to the place their quills sat on parchment, but...they realized with some horror that they weren’t imagining it at all.

They realized when they looked to Myrna that they could see the slightest tremor in the hand that gripped the silver-wrought handle of her cane, see the way her irises darted back and forth and her hand was still outstretched, reaching for Astoria with that ever-comforting look on her face. Her arm hung in midair, fingers outstretched as she took a step toward her grandchild, but...locked in place, as if someone had captured her likeness in colored stone.

And there was...a beating, at their fingertips, something they could feel through their gloves as if it was buried beneath their skin from the moment they’d come into this world.

Astoria flexed their fingers, wetting dry lips with confusion muddling their mind -

Canonach.

Astoria’s head snapped up, searching the room for the source of the voice that had echoed in their ears, then looked toward Dorothea - her brow tipped slightly down, as if it was the only gesture of concentration she could muster as they realized it was her voice they were hearing.

Breathe. I need you to breathe, and I need you to let go.

Let go? What could they possibly...

...no. They realized it, looking inward, that the pit they felt in their stomach was not a pit at all. There, as if it were coiled in their gut, they could feel the tension, the stiffness, like a spring stretched too tight and ready to snap should you give it a single turn more.

Astoria took a shaky breath in, holding it for a moment before they let it out, and the spring unwound with a pace that made Astoria stumble back and fall square on their ass on the cold marble floor.

Myrna, Dorothea, and their silent compatriots all collapsed like puppets with cut strings - gasping for air as Astoria sat numb on the stone. They didn’t register Myrna dragging herself upright with her cane, limping heavily as she rushed to Astoria and threw arms tight around their shoulder.

They’d...they’d done that. Stopped them all in their tracks without even a second thought, the realization ice in their veins as Myrna pulled them in and whispered words Astoria couldn’t quite comprehend over the ringing in their ears.

Astoria glanced up, finding Dorothea rising from her seat, seeing her expression twist into something between awe and fear for a single moment before they buried their face in the side of Myrna’s neck to try and avoid looking anyone in the eye.

Why did it feel like every time they came a step closer to finding answers, they felt like they lost a piece of themself in the process?

#astoria fenharrow #i'm trying to finish the rougher parts of their arc but I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER #my writing

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nurseofren · 4 years ago

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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 21 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty (NSFW)

Title: A Physical Reminder

Words: 7800

Summary: It's decided: today is the worst day to have ever existed, and it just won't end.

Warnings: Dubcon, Ruined orgasm, Torture, Body Mod, Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

ST Rambles: I've had this chapter in the back of my head for literal months and to release it after so long, to have it real and written, feels kind of surreal. For about a month or so I've been referring to this chapter as The Horrible Thing on my tumblr. It intimidated me to write something like this.

[MASTERLIST]

Stark was the contrast from this trip on the Command Shuttle from the earlier one; there was a silent alarm coursing between all that remained boarded, those who were instructed to stay put and keep the ship running so a swift escape could be made if circumstances changed. Four stormtroopers and a stand-in pilot remained with you, two men standing guard inside, two stationed at the ramp out of sight, the pilot pressing a code of buttons you didn’t have the knowledge to care about.

Sounds of battle tore into the ship, the harsh knowledge that destruction was ripping through whatever planet you were on making your chest tighter with each unknown boom or crash. The surroundings were new, though, too much foliage and scenery visible through the crimson transparisteel to be mistaken as Jakku. Taking into consideration the wooziness you’d experienced per seeing this morning’s escapades, saliva vacating your mouth at the memory of the man painted in orange fatality, you figured it would be a smarter decision to stay strapped in. This kept you from seeing the demolition ringing around you, but through the fury pigment of the windshield you saw the raw reality of crashing structures and fleeing crowds. With every scream, not knowing if they were those of the enemy – though that word meant little, if anything, at this point, your greatest foe being your very own Supreme Leader – or not, you shuddered into yourself, eyes kept strictly on your shoes while you attempted to tune it all out.

As war raged on you found yourself, once again, with too much time. Too much solitude. There was barely an effort made to keep yourself from thinking of Kylo, conflicted further with each digital reminder that time was passing too quickly. The nap you’d been woken from twenty minutes ago felt like a waste of the valuable resource. Though you knew he would have left no matter if you’d rested or not, you still felt guilty in taking a moment of peace; today was your last day with him and Snoke’s grip frayed your nerves further with each second, turmoil pooling into frigid pits while you tried to make every moment count.

While Kylo was away you found yourself watching your radar, the tip of your right index finger caressing the delicate face, tracing gently over his whereabouts. In the face of losing him you’d taken a new liking to the tech, feeling an interconnectedness even when you couldn’t see him. In some way it was a reminder that you still had around fifteen hours before you’d lose him, a tangible symbol of your dwindling hope, each patterned flash between the hours and seconds working to dim your outlook.

Far away a cascade of blaster firings sounded, tongue locking between your teeth as you strayed from imagining the lives involved. Even surrounded by catastrophe one thought was coarse in its existence as you analyzed every interaction you’d shared with Kylo this morning; after he’d told you to get dressed and ready to go, you expected, however naïvely, that he’d wait for you to gather yourself. A part of you withered when you heard the elevator leave not a second after you’d crawled out from his covers. You knew he was unaware of how crippling time was right now, but the mindless act sunk into your bones, a sucker punch to your already fracturing heart.

“So you actually saw the escape?” One of the stormtroopers spoke, regarding the one opposite him. They had been speaking for a while but only now did their conversation interest you.

“Yeah.” the second white-armored guard shifted in his stance. Though you could only see his boots you knew that this gave him pride. “One second I was just manning my station and then this TIE goes off the rails, pulling on its docking chain like I’d never seen.

“And it’s been confirmed that Ren’s prisoner was the one who stole it?”

“Ha, yeah, but the real story is how he even got the chance.”

Another crash came, neither of them bothered by the flood of screams that followed it. “Wait, I think I heard something about this before we left for Takodana. It was a pilot right? The traitor?”

“No, man. It was one of us. A soldier. A brother. Sick isn’t it?”

“But if the traitor was one of our own… how’d they escape if neither knew how to pilot a TIE?”

“Well obviously one of them did or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?” The one being questioned was growing tired of it.

There was a short pause between the two, neither knowing whether to bother to continue the discussion. An influx of commotion came into hearing distance; grunts, explosions, and weaponry all creating a disjunct melody of mayhem while you remained the only passenger amongst the four to notice the rising urgency growing closer with each second.

“Yeah, well,” the first said, “at least we’re not in the mess, right? Better to man the ship than to be the one defending it?”

The second soldier was no longer enjoying the other’s company, tone becoming increasingly curt. “The Captain assigned me to Ren’s detail six weeks ago. Out of nowhere. To say I’d rather get shot at out there than ever have to babysit this ship again would be an understatement.”

“Hey! It’s not that-,”

The first soldier’s recoil was barred when familiar footfalls came into earshot, heavy boots falling against the thick metal of the on-ramp stealing his words and replacing them with an interrupting chaos. For the first time since watching him leave the ship you looked up from the floor, fully anticipating his fists to be in some entanglement of rage or stress. But they weren’t. Actually, his fists were nowhere to be found, his hands too busy holding the limp body of a tatter-wearing stranger. He stood at the threshold and regarded the pilot, your only focus keeping steady at the way his gloved fingers bit into her knee, an unfounded pang of hurt skipping into your pulse as you remembered he’d held you just the same only hours prior.

“Set course for Starkiller. Instruct complete retraction to all active units. We’re done here.” Kylo was all business; cold, corporate words to match his tone before he turned toward you.

This was something you’d never planned on; seeing him with another woman, no matter how rugged and grimy she appeared, brought conflicting emotions. On one hand your first inclination was to hate her, to assume she was the enemy and that she deserved what was coming to her, to see her in the worst light as a part of you still held a hopeless claim on her captor. The other part of your brain, arguably the more logical and caring portion, felt that same bit of ill-placed fear as you had for Dameron. The news that the prisoner had escaped had brought you a peace you shouldn’t have felt, one that would be noted as treasonous just as your fear for him had been earlier. Now, that fear refreshed itself as you caught view of the girl’s lifeless face, training taking over as you took two seconds to find her chest moving at a steady pace. She was breathing. She was alive in his arms, lips parted as unconsciousness draped over her.

The engines roared beneath your feet, pitching upwards as the final crowd of passengers flooded in behind your Commander, all of them racing to strap into the chairs lining the walls, the ramp ascending and sealing the ship before it latched with a click. Kylo made no such move, his stance staying put and steady as the ship rocketed into the bright sky, the Force keeping him upright during the propulsion. He stood analyzing you as you were him, his stare evident and concentrated through the helmet, the cowl adding another layer of mystique to his already intimidating appearance. Your attention had barely left the girl, an obvious effort to not feel the jealousy you knew he would sense burning beneath your skin while he observed you.

For some reason her presence irked you, dug claws into your restraint as you fought to control your emotions. It’s not like it would matter if she was anyone important to him anyway; in a few hours you wouldn’t be, so what purpose was there in hating her? What point was there to feeling anything for him anymore if it would all be worth less than nothing by the end of the day? There was none. No point or purpose to allow this stranger any influence over you. Although the longer you stared at her, examined her through the eyes of a person and not a nurse, you lost more and more resolve towards letting her presence get to you.

A madness rose just behind your eyes, not yet seeping into your demeanor but residing just enough to keep you from caring too much about her. It was not like you to wish harm on someone, and you weren’t entirely, but, in comparing your regard towards her to that which you had for Dameron, you found yourself simmering in a state of envy. Kylo had once called you a nobody, no matter how rooted in anger it had been, but for him to treat this person, this nobody, with the gentleness he’d only shared with you this morning? You wanted to scream, wanted to rip into him every ounce of petty rage the sight was causing you.

“Officer,” Kylo said, head tilting just enough to clue you in to the warning the notion was.

The Command Shuttle left the blue atmosphere and was once more swallowed by the black of space, stars zooming past as you finally looked into his visor. Under his stare you felt your shoulders relax, let yourself breathe as you caught onto the fact that you’d been displacing your anger on the innocent girl. What you felt while looking at her was jealousy, you couldn’t dismiss that fact, but while peering into his visor, feeling his eyes so intently on yours while he kept your gaze, you realized you only felt it because of the truth that awaited you in the pressing future.

You would never be held by him in such a way after today. Never again would you feel his arms around you. This envy was rooted in the fact that you had been her, but you would soon never have the chance. And in meeting him through the mask you dissolved the feeling. What a waste of the remaining time you had with him to care about someone so foreign and superficial to your life. He was here now, even if just to set eyes on, and you were determined to keep him from observing your spiraling any further before you had to drown him in it. Neither of you deserved to feel time’s bludgeoning presence, but you settled on bearing its weight yourself, sparing him until the final moment.

“Master,” you said back, head falling against the durasteel while you allowed one full sweep over his impossible frame, careful that no hidden heads were looking your way before permitting the faintest quirk of your lips. The gesture was for him, hoping he’d be thrown off the trail of your uproar of emotions even in the slightest way.

When the docking bay came into view, the floor growing closer as the ship settled into its landing, you found it difficult not to think about how different you’d felt when leaving here this morning. After receiving the alert for the departure you’d hurriedly gotten dressed while dreading coming into contact with Kylo again, settling on the fact that it would be easier to lose your trial than to live a life with him. Another twinge of regret wrapped your lungs in jagged constraints when thinking about the time you’d wasted, though you couldn’t have known then. There was so much misery twisted into you, anger you thought belonged to your Commander, rage you’d learned had nothing to do with him.

As the engines settled and the ramp descended once more, you watched distantly as blurry white figures moved about and away from the ship. In their vacating you knew that time was wearing on, felt it wrap tighter around your heart while you listened to the unmistakable footsteps of your Master wander off into the distance. Clasping your palm around your watch you kept yourself from checking, knowing it would only frighten you in its ever-passing reality. Time had become an overwhelming factor in your knowing Kylo; it was now a catalyst to both your introduction and your severance. However devastating, you still didn’t wish to take any of it back.

After undoing your safety harness and standing from your seat you went to exit the ship, your phone buzzing at your hip just as you stood centered under the threshold. It was Mason. Another reason for the current glut of guilt accumulating in your stomach. With an anchored lip, teeth threatening to draw blood, you accepted the call and all that it entailed, half-thankful for another opportunity to delay Snoke’s task.

“Mason, look, earlier… I wasn’t. I hadn’t. I just got back from—” slowing down and taking a breath, you searched for the right phrasing that would reveal just enough to quell his impending interrogation “—I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I haven’t been having the best day. Work stuff, you know.”

“I do know, young officer.”

Frozen in place, blood turning to ice, your eyes fell from focus and you stumbled left towards the support of the hatch’s frame. The slithered, malicious tone was engrained into your soul, its sound now too familiar and fatal to be mistaken. Snoke sounded far away, voice too echoed for him to be holding whatever contact device he was using. Panic planted new thorns in your stomach at the realization that Snoke was calling from Mason’s phone.

“If he’s already dead you have nothing to bargain.”

A low roll of what sounded like tainted amusement rattled through the electronic frequency. “Don’t worry, here he is now.” A muffled shriek sent your hand away from your ear, agony ripping through Mason, his face vivid in memory of the first time you’d heard him like this.

“I haven’t gone against you!” Spit sprayed as you spoke through gnashed teeth, Mason’s cries turning into distant groans. “Let him go or the offer-,”

“The offer isn’t yours to bargain, stupid girl.”

“The stupid girl found a loophole in your plan, didn’t she?”

Another stream of cries filtered through the phone, hand clasping around the hard edges of the threshold. “For some reason I believed you held this physician to a higher esteem,” Mason pleaded your name in a thrashing tumble of suffering, “my mistake.”

Mason only grew louder as Snoke paused to let you hear him, to let you listen to your own doing. You knew what Snoke wanted and how to make him stop, your eyes closing in defeat while you swallowed what remained of your resolve.

“Tell me what you want, just stop hurting him.” Life left your voice, failure and shame prickling into your eyes.

“The only thing that’s changed is the timetable I offered. Your little stunt has worked against you.”

“When? How much time do I have?” A stray tear fled salty over your tongue, teeth trapping your quivering lip.

“You have exactly sixty minutes to keep your end of the deal. Consequently, that’s the same time your friend will cease to exist should you fail.” There was a cruel amount of pleasure and matter-of-factness coiled into the mention of your failure.

“I don’t know where he is, and I doubt he wants to be interrupted with whatever he’s doing.” The stranger’s face passed momentarily through your mind, imagining she had the same fate as the prisoner.

“For your friend’s sake, as you’ve offered no notion that you care for your own life, I suggest you find him.”

“You’re sick, you know that right? Doing this? Hurting him this way?” Your watch read a quarter till nine, steps leading you mindlessly down the ramp and into the bustling Elite center.

“Maybe. Though, I’m not the one hurting him, am I?”

Hauntingly low laughter overlapped with your frustrated growl, feet stomping in no particular direction as you scanned the room. “Fifty-nine minutes now, officer. I’ll be expecting your call, though I am sure I will know when you have completed your task.”

The call ended before you had the chance to scream at him, though it would’ve attracted more attention than you wanted right now. Shoving your phone back into your front pocket, the seams nearly busting at the force, you threaded both your hands into your hair, clutching at your scalp as you walked in circles in an aimless attempt to find Kylo, not remembering which direction he’d gone when he’d left the ship.

The only place it made sense for him to be would be in an interrogation room, but you didn’t know where those were on Starkiller. Anxiety rippled in hot waves down your spine, pulse quickening as you looked down to find you’d spent two minutes pacing about in indiscriminate paths.

Realization hit you. “Okay, I deserve to die for being this fucking stupid!” Holding your left wrist up you watched the radar grow and shrink in distance, making a few confusing laps until you found the direction which indicated you were heading in his direction. The watch had only been a hinderance until today, and you were finally using the advantage it offered.

Racing past the faceless soldiers, looking side to side as they observed you with confusion, you kept focus on the red radar, feet moving faster the closer you moved towards him, not paying attention to where your legs were leading you. A few stormtroopers tried to chastise you, yelling for your attention as you ran past them. But you could hardly hear them over your fumbling thoughts, trying to piece together a believable performance to try and convince Kylo you wanted to quit.

Every phrase that came to mind met you with a crippling sense of fraudulence. Your time with him this morning, the purposeful portion you’d taken to be with him before it was too late, was now backfiring. How could he believe something that would so blatantly sound like a lie? There could be no conviction when there was no truth to prove in the first place. Why had you done this? Even if he did believe you, you’d cause more pain than you intended just by allowing him to come so close to your heart, to see in your eyes and hear in your praises how much he meant to you.

He knew the real truth, felt it as your tears streaked down his back, though now you felt exceedingly grateful you hadn’t verbalized the depth of it. In all of this you had to remind yourself that you weren’t the villain, that you were protecting your friend and saving your career, but it was impossible to see it that way when guilt tugged at each stride. With each pace you questioned your speed, conflict obvious in understanding you were on a timer while also acknowledging you were running headfirst into heartbreak, catalyzing the inevitable with each new hallway you turned down.

This would be the worst thing you’d ever do, no matter if you died today or next week or in a hundred years. To hurt another person – chest tight when remembering you’d so often questioned Kylo’s humanity in the beginning – so entirely was in complete opposition with who you had become; your position was to heal him and provide a sense of safety to aid in that process. Now, as you started down a heavily populated hall with display screens mounted above each doorway, you found yourself running to do the exact opposite, racing to harm him and steal the security he’d entrusted you to offer.

Two stormtroopers stood guard at one of the doors to your right, blasters at the ready while their voices became clearer with each distance-stealing stride.

“Dude, I’m just saying it’s not that bad being assigned to Ren’s detail. Actually, I’m glad the other guy got booted, he seemed… off to me. Like he didn’t-,”

“Okay! I get it! I don’t want to hear about-,”

The two men stopped talking when your hands met your knees while you fought to catch your breath, sloppily checking your watch and finding you had fifty minutes before the clock ran out. Swallowing, gulping for air, you pleaded with them in harsh, simplified requests.

“Mas- Commander. Ren. Where. Now. Tell me.”

Coming up from your knees and wiping your forehead you saw them look at each other, considering you in the current state of chaos in which you resided. Staring between them and your watch, you grew impatient.

“Seriously. I need to speak with him. Now!” Desperation cracked your voice, heart torn between saving Mason or sparing Kylo, each holding an equal portion of it.

The first one, the talkative one, began to speak, his automated voice fading just as quickly as it had come before both of their heads turned to their lefts. They quickly stood to a higher degree of attention, the action bringing you a heady sense of déjà vu from graduation. Solace and suffering struck you as your pounding head stopped to listen for the approaching footsteps, contradiction dizzying you before you turned to face him.

He was still masked but the cowl was resting in a collection over his shoulders, hands relaxed at his sides as he stepped closer. You didn’t know what to say. Nothing came to mind as you stared pleadingly into his visor, wishing that somehow he could hear your thoughts instead of just feel your nerves.

“I need to-,”

“Speak with me. I heard.” His words were clipped, the stress of the day sinking into his tone.

“Okay, well I have to-,”

“You’ll have to wait, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The door between the soldiers hissed open before Kylo stepped to enter into the room, your heart heightening to an unimaginable pace as indecision and time stabbed into your lungs. A flash of time, a flicker of Mason’s face, an echo of his screams – all these things amplified in your mind in a split second. This was it. It was now or never. No more waiting, no more delays. Despite every effort, you had to accept the truth: Mason would die if you failed Snoke, but Kylo would live regardless.

“I quit.” Quick, short, and loud was the statement, tight fists balling at your hips while your eyes shut in defense.

The hall lulled in its buzz, voices hesitating as you felt the eyes of countless strangers fall on every part of you. To match their vacant voices was the sudden disappearance of any footsteps. In your purposeful blindness, you knew the words had stopped Kylo in his path.

Swallowing, taking a slow, superficial breath, you looked at him. His body was half turned toward you now, fingers flexing apart and then winding together. With every word you began to drive the knife deeper into his soul. The blade was double edged, though. “I ha… I have to quit. I’m quitting.”

The onlookers went back to their business after five silent seconds, their own worlds still spinning no matter if yours was soon to be thrown off its axis. Kylo turned so his whole body faced you now, slow, harrowing steps carrying him closer. The helmet at his shoulders was an eternal hinderance. Even when his face was visible you struggled to get a sense of what he was feeling. But you could only assume, could only anticipate, there was a new foundation of confusion or doubt moving the tiny muscles of his face.

“Officer, we will discuss your employment later. For now I advise you to return to your residence.”

“There is no later. I ha…” No matter how many times you attempted to say the three words, the second would always falter before completion. “I’m done. I’m quitting.” Your eyes hit the floor, reflection mocking you in your pitiful attempt towards conviction. “I quit.”

Kylo’s vocoder crackled out a huff of exasperation. His head turned to address the two men standing guard at the door, a hiss sounding as it latched shut again. “Remain here until I return. Update me if the Scavenger’s status changes.” His visor returned to you, staring for a moment too long before he walked past you with the silent expectation that you were to follow.

Passing down two more hallways, taking one left turn and a right, you grew in terror with every stride, noting the diminishing timeframe at your wrist every ten seconds. There were far less people in the first hall, and none in the second. A door came into view, its frame fortified and industrial, the display screen above it turned off – or dead, as the surroundings appeared to be that of a decommissioned sector. With a harsher than normal sound, it slid to the left to allow entry, Kylo stopping just before he entered to allow you past him. He was analyzing you, undoubtably, and you coveted his ability to keep his intentions hidden so well.

Soft, cautious steps filled the quiet of the dank room, the overhead light flickering when it came to life, a fluorescent buzz adding to the symphony of silence. In the center was the same apparatus that Dameron had been positioned on, this one much less agile looking, its fixtures outdated and dust-covered. Neglect was evident in the way the entrance shrieked shut at your back. With elbows bent and fingers locking together just below your ribs, you kept your face from him, keeping a watch on the time. You needed to do this, but how?

Kylo was a predator when he needed to be; watching he prey from a distance, keeping his steps light and thoughtful, getting just close enough so you weren’t entirely sure how near he was behind you. Though, currently, you felt more like the hunter; alone with him you waited to strike on an unsuspecting victim, not entirely planned or strategical, but nevertheless predacious.

He wasn’t talking. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say the horrible things Snoke had instructed. You were at a standstill, not knowing how to move next, not wanting to move at all. But you had to, you knew this; the absence of a path that offered peace for either party was the foundation for your hesitance. When you left here, the only person to benefit would be Mason; a third party you so desperately regretted roping into this.

His draught of words charged your nerves; he didn’t know what he was waiting to hear, he couldn’t know – that was the fact that made this all so terrible. The pain you were feeling was the same you were meant to poison him with; it was purposeful and calculated and cruel, just like its perpetrator. But you were the messenger, and to be killed would be preferred to the latter of delivering words you knew bore the explicit and extensive intention to harm their recipient.

“I quit.” No other words would form. None that wouldn’t sting anyway, so you just kept repeating the two, hoping you’d finally accept them or find some inkling of truth in their outward expression.

“I heard you the first three times. I just don’t know why you’d say it at all.”

He was asking for the falsehoods you were avoiding speaking, simultaneously stalling them and trying to gather the will to say them. This would hurt him no matter what. Time would only run out and harm both of the people you loved if you didn’t do this. Sparing one for the other felt hopeless. It was.

“I hate you.” Three flat syllables fell in pattern, their existence stoic and empty.

A static cloud of incredulous amusement left him. “No you don’t.”

Turning in sloth, you leveled your features, bluffed stoicism crowding your eyes in hopes it’d form your own mask. Unblinkingly you stared into his visor, trying not to bite at your cheek, hands coming down to relax at your sides. “Why wouldn’t I? I have every reason and right to.”

Leather squeaked out of sight; it appeared your façade was working. “Maybe you should. You don’t, though. You don’t even want to.”

“You can’t tell me what I feel. I hate you.” Each repetition was an attempt toward belief.

“Fine,” Kylo said, challenge evident in his tone while he took a step forward, your ankles catching on the bottom of the angled table. “The least you could do is try and prove it, as it is nowhere to be found in either your words or your presence.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.” There was an arsenal you could draw from, weaponized sentences that would floor him, that you knew could convince him. All of it had been true, or remains true, but you didn’t want to use any of it. He didn’t deserve this at all. It was excruciatingly unfair.

“You aren’t ignorant to the fact I can feel everything you do. Why are you lying to me?” He was growing increasingly frustrated.

“What would I gain from lying to you, Kylo?” Only the life of your closest friend, but that’s all. “Have you considered I’m just now telling you the full truth?”

“I don’t consider absurdity,” your name gritted through the vocoder.

“What is so absurd about me hating you?” Shifting barely, you grappled for the wrist restraints for support, steadying yourself, looking up to him through two masks, only one hidden. “You’ve only ever hurt me. The only nice thing you’ve ever done for me is have that termination notice signed and ready to go.” Each word was a dagger to your own heart, no matter if he was convinced yet.

A pointed indication that your coaxing was working, however ashamedly, was obvious in his statuesque stature. Kylo was crowding you, your chin grazing his chest with each brusque breath he took. This was torture; this was true agony, wrathful and writhing as it thrashed against your soul.

Everything in you was adamant in its desire for him to keep his face hidden; the last thing you wanted was to see his expression right now, to watch all you’d built with him tear down in seconds.

“I signed that as a requisite to your assignment. Should it have been necessary it would’ve been available for your immediate termination.”

“My immediate termination,” you recoiled, taking in stride his answers to avoid hurting him. Angering him was an easier route. “Ever since the beginning you’ve doubted me, I swear.”

“It’s never been necessary!” He was beginning to believe you. In your chest you felt your heart splinter.

He took another step forward, bumping you back onto the table, feet catching on the ledge as two metal restraints came over your ankles, eyes wide and flat while you drowned in the immensity of his presence.

“What? Are you gonna hurt me again? Strap me in and torture me because I don’t want to be here anymore? That will only make me hate you more, Kylo.” You swallowed, locking your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your chin from betraying your true feelings.

“You don’t hate me!”

“Yes I do!”

In a storm of black, his arms flung upward and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it so it crashed with a riot of fury against the wall, a dent no doubt left in its wake. Two gloved hands came warm and quick over your cheeks, pulling you into his face and drawing you to his lips. There was need obvious in his attack, his fingers quite literally locking you to him. He caught you off guard, your mouth moaning with his same fervor in the first half second of connection. But you couldn’t do this, allowing it would only cause him more pain.

“Kylo, no,” your hands twisted bruises into his wrists while you tried to pull him away, trying and failing to ignore the etherealness his touch inspired. “We can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?” His body pressed into yours, the angle of the table allowing you to feel his weight, relish in his size. He wasn’t listening to your direction, completely lost to his own agenda to convince you of what you already knew.

“Because I don’t want to.” He felt so good, home and comfort blatant in the effort it took to pull away.

“Really?” One of his hands clutched into your hair while the other raced to lift your skirt, dipping into your panties and pushing two fingers into your slit with ease. “You’re lying!” He growled, his hand’s presence forcing another moan, pleasure twisted in your core when an accidental buck dragged his fingers closer to your entrance.

“You disgust me!” Insults were your next line of defense, petty and pointless as they were.

Kylo grunted, the seams of his gloves teasing your core. “I disgust you, huh?” The thick digits hooked into you, a shudder of breath coming with their arrival. “Is it how I can make you cum harder than anyone you’ve ever been with?” The firm pad of his thumb found your clit, raised and ready, and he began winding into it, bolts of seething joy igniting as he brushed over it repeatedly. “Disgusting how you’ve never wanted anything more than this—” his tongue slid onto yours, nose panting gusts of lust onto your cheek while his fingers began pumping into you –” how you need it? Those were your words right? Earlier?”

He wasn’t fighting fair, and you supposed you weren’t either, but you were the one with the hidden agenda. Kylo was bearing it all while you worked to conceal the pain it brought you to tell him these things, the way every second brought you closer to saying the words you knew would tear through him just as they had done to you.

“You’re so fu-full of yourself—” your head glittered while you sunk into the grip of the climax you felt coming, teeth clamping together and blocking his tongue from yours. “How would you even know if you were the best I’ve had? Take a look in my head, I’m begging you to find you’re wrong!” It was a way of pleading for him to go digging so he could see Snoke, half hoping he could at all when you remembered Snoke’s act of torture when you first stepped before him.

Kylo had tunnel vision, lips pressing into your jaw when he couldn’t lust after your tongue, fingers working you faster, harder, knuckles skating in and out with a delicious friction. Release stuck in your throat and burgeoned in your belly, an unmistakable glow festering into fruition.

“Why should I waste my time when all I’d find is how you think endlessly about every encounter we’ve shared?” His cockiness almost brought a smile to your face, and you were sure he could feel that strike of glee that encouraged it. “You’re going to cum for me like the slut you are—” it was chaotic, the spiral of pleasure he was twisting into you, your nerves shining for him with every purposeful movement of his hand “—and then you’re going to go to your residence and wait for me—” a falter of reluctant, stifled groans fell unbidden from your agape mouth “—so when I get there I can give you the time needed to drill into you—” he sucked at your collar bone, canines biting into the taut skin and your back arched into him “—that I know you, I feel you, and you’re an awful. Fucking. Liar!”

Holding on by the last thread of resolve, you gasped and gulped. “You ruined my life.” He wasn’t going to allow you to do this without hurting him. “You nearly killed my friend. You took my free will.” All of this was forced through a tight jaw, your hands prying him from your neck so you could stare into him with the power you needed to strike him down.

Looking deep into his eyes, savagery etched into his visage, you brought his face closer so his nose nearly touched yours. Sweat was dripping down your forehead, slipping beneath your thighs on the now slick metal, your throat swallowing back spit while you sharpened the daggers you were about to send through him. Maybe not entirely conscious of it, his hand slowed, your release faltering and diminishing while you stared through him.

With the flattest possible expression, focus fuzzing purposely as to not see the damage you were about to cause, you held him entirely with just your eyes. There was something you couldn’t place just below the surface, its presence aching and sharp while you watched his lips attempt to mimic the stoicism of your own. Nearly imperceptibly, his chin was quaking; unsure if it was from a stressed jaw or from that sharp emotion stabbing into you, your blurred vision caught the red face of your watch in its periphery. Time was draining. This was it.

“Kylo,” you began, your other hand reaching to clasp around his forearm, knowing hearing his name would make the cut deeper. Permanent. “There is nothing you can do, or say, or force that will ever change the fact that I hate your very existence.” You swallowed, hoping your fear felt more like rage. “Everything you do – killing innocents, hurting the people I love, stealing my free will – and everything you are is a wretched scar on my life.”

Every single sentence went right through his back and stabbed through to your heart. It was miraculous, yet disturbing, how your voice had fallen into winter so easily. Guilt broke past the levy of your soul, heart turning to ash while you observed every bit of light fade from his eyes. “I said earlier I wouldn’t forgive you. That was the lie. I can’t.” Maybe the tears forming would be masked by the sweat he’d inspired.

The next words would be the harshest, the conclusion to everything. He’d called you on it earlier, but now it would be agonizingly true: you were lying to him. “Ever since you came into my life, every day I have wished, hoped, begged that I never met you. Pleaded that the infamous Kylo Ren was a stranger, and I suppose I partially got what I wanted. You have never been more of a stranger than right now.” Another break before your final statement shattered all you’d come to know for the past three months. This would be the act to secure Mason’s life.

Dropping your hands from his neck and forearm, he remained in place, his own hand having left you completely now, his eyes nearing the vacancy of his touch. With a whisper, you completed your task. “You are an irredeemable bastard, Commander Ren, and I want nothing more than to forget you exist.”

Hollow were the eyes which mirrored each other, emptiness enveloping him just as it had you. A transaction of turmoil. An exchange of hearts as Kylo’s had stopped while Mason’s would beat on. Through two razed pupils you felt his soul shrink into him, saw the man you loved shatter into dust.

Nothingness equipped him with a lifeless gaze, a flat voice, and a crushing shadow of decimation. “I trusted you.”

And to tie it all up with a gnarled, muddied, tattered bow. “I never asked you to.”

The walls you’d just laid foundation for were audible in their construction, flagrant over his face as he backed away, eyes proximal in the physical sense yet entirely distant in their expression. You didn’t know what to do, unsure if to leave him here or to wait for him to leave first. Venom burned at the ashes in your chest, starving you of air and shattering your temporary mask with each dead measure of time.

Pushing up from the metal, you looked down to your ankles, still bound to the table as you were in shame. There were no words you could think to say, nothing you could do to remedy this level of severity. In the second you’d stolen to look down, Kylo Ren’s eyes had returned to that of the person you’d met the time he’d taken your will. It chilled you, and while watching him, forgetting to move, you found you no longer could.

All at once your head crashed back into the metal, your arms flew outward, and every restraint – a pummel of metal over your forehead, a bite into your wrists, and a reinforcing clobber over your ankles – latched with a shroud of metallic shrieks. Along with the physical detention, a familiar, compressing weight came to reside over your chest, every breath you took barely life sustaining.

“You can leave here. You can quit—” stalking steps approached, eyes peering around to find him in your periphery “—but you will never forget me.” Kylo Ren loomed over you now, death salient in his eyes. “I won’t allow it.”

The white stone of his face drowned in a haze of brilliant red, the familiar frequency stunning your ears and stabbing your skin with the rippling rage its presence promised. Parted lips permitted a tired wince, desolate eyes staring into your own, skipping down your chest, and landing on a region unknown to you.

“Let this serve as a physical reminder of all you’ve vocalized here.”

Blinded in silent fury, his visage remained vacant. Out of sight, a gloved hand smoothed your skirt onto your abdomen, an emblazoned heat quickly replacing it with burning wrath. Bile rose in your throat, your eyes clasping shut in defense; no matter if you couldn’t see, the darkness offered by lidded eyes worked to take you from reality, knowing there was nothing you could do or say or scream that would convince the sadistic stranger to spare you.

Accepting fate, you shredded your teeth into your lips, staggering broken wails through a muting muzzel as the plasma blade made first contact with the skin of your upper left thigh. Sweat beaded as more muted shrieks shattered in your throat, the weapon passing down once and lifting. In the time it was away from your skin, not ripping into you with the deflected pain of its brandisher, you took in a series of deep breaths and lifted your lids. The Kylo you loved was nowhere to be found, and you knew and accepted that he never would be again, watching him concentrate with a creased brow just as the plasma bit another line, seemingly perpendicular to the first. There was no reaction to your hummed howls, still not allowing yourself to scream your pain into existence, not ready to accept why when his face peered back up to yours.

The absence of the chrome-slat helmet disadvantaged him in no way; the devoid person who had earlier removed it had formed a new mask, one fueled by the frenzy you’d fabricated from phony truths and forced rejection. Looking between your eyes, a stranded soul stared down to you as one more burning strike lit into your skin, a mirror of the second as it dragged down just slightly from its starting point.

A suggestion of a snarl bit at his upper lip as his face returned to its original state of smooth, flecked marble. The restraints unlocked and sheathed themselves back into their original hidden state, the exit opening behind his shoulder. “Leave.”

Fire pooled in your leg, chin trembling while absorbing every inclination to express the suffering that singed into you. With heaving breaths you smelled your injured flesh, nauseated and dizzy thinking about the pattern he’d etched. You didn’t want to scream at him, didn’t feel like saying anything at all, really. There was something shameful barring you from expressing any, or any more, cruelty toward him, keeping you from hating him for the hurt he’d wrought.

No verbalized goodbye would ever be enough to undo what had gone on in this room. Gingerly, you stepped off from the apparatus with the unaffected leg, dragging your shoe from the ledge until it fell flat next to the other. Swallowing, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, taking one final look at the mess you’d made, shuddering away before he could see the tears stinging to life. In an effort to keep from stressing the muscle beneath the branded tissue, not taking a moment to examine it yet, you kept the injured leg tensed, hobbling into the hall and away from Kylo Ren.

When you took your final step out of the second hall he’d led you down, you hopped against the wall, finding you’d met your timeframe. Ten minutes remained. A cruel thought of overachievement panged at your temple as you reached for your phone, panting through heavy, hot streams of hurt.

The line barely finished the first ring, your mouth starting a sentence only to be interrupted by the sinister slithering of Snoke’s cadence. “You’ve proven more honorable than I previously credited you for, young officer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, well. Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Mason. Where is he?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Snoke said, an obvious twisted grin in his words. “When I felt the death of your connection – which, I am truly impressed at how completely eviscerated it is – I dismissed the Physician. I have no use for him if he’s dead, after all.”

The most insignificant spark of relief lit and died in the same breath. “The deal, then? My trial?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“No. No! You promise me or i-,”

“A pleasure doing business with you, miss,” the way he swirled around your last name made you want to erase it entirely.

The line went dead, your screen went black, and your blood turned cold. With a jolt of unadulterated and uncontained wrath – for yourself, for Snoke, for all of it – you chucked the device into the floor. Not checking if the screen had already cracked, you stomped on it once, twice, three, four times as a collection of the screams you’d accumulated grated against your throat.

Only when you stumbled against the wall, your leg stinging against its injury, did you stop your tantrum. Maybe tantrum was the wrong word. This display of frustration had been earned and was not that of an errant child who couldn’t have her way. Though, you didn’t get what you wanted, and you knew you never could the second you stepped into that room.

With this knowledge and an unsteady gait, you stuck close to the walls while you began your venture back to your residence. With each step you shattered more, a trail of broken hopes and severed ties following in your path, a shadow of their own looming from the depths of the disheartened soul it sprung from.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #ao3 #st kyp

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elmidol · 4 years ago

Text

Error: Program Not Found - Thirteen

Summary: You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

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“You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul.” - George Bernard Shaw

Thirteen: Inspirational

The senator’s arrival had managed to squash your otherwise good mood, and it was the knowledge that you would not be required to approach him until the following morning that kept you from feeling utterly miserable. That as well as the messages that had been delivered to your inbox by Anonymous and Unknown. You worked to unveil which of the identities was Kylo Ren and which was General Hux to no avail. Their similarities were more pronounced in their writing than when conversing with either man in person. This was to be expected given how the written word worked. Droids became less individualized when you were staring at their lines of coding; it was the limitation of relying on the surface of things, the absence of body language to highlight the quirks and unspoken thoughts. Kylo Ren and General Hux were closed off, private, mistrustful.

Both had sent word of the senator having come to the planet, which led you to believe that they were not in league with one another--unless they were trying to throw you off their scent. It was difficult for you to picture them collaborating together on something of this nature, except in the case where they would make it into a competition. Your lips quirked to the side at that thought. There was something primal about two men fighting over you that made you feel desirable. A little like a piece of meat as well, a sort of trophy. The lack of physical damage to one another saved you from disliking the position you were in. To top it off, it was better to focus on them than your impending interactions with the senator. You still had to determine which aspects of the physical therapy droids that you wanted to share. Leaking too much information could very well result in your idea being stolen.

With a sigh, you settled back against the pillow and opened one of the new messages that were waiting for you in the inbox. Stress melted away from you with revelation that the message itself was little more than a picture; underneath it was the title of the painting. It was from a local artist that, from what you could recall, was growing in prominence. Depicted was a female humanoid so concealed in luxurious silks and gems that you could not properly note her species. Only her eyes stuck out, lovely things that they were. You were drawn to peer into those depths, which were lifelike. Your breath stilled in your chest as you scanned the entire painting to appreciate all its details. The sender of this message had been Unknown, and you wondered how best to respond to him. It might be that he was a connoisseur of arts or else this one piece had somehow managed to catch his attention.

You debated for a few moments longer before typing up a line of gratitude that preceded a question as to whether he enjoyed many paintings and, if so, who his favorite artist was. It did not matter the identity of the man at that point; you simply wished to know more about him, what it was that had led him to enjoy the painting enough to send it to you.

After clicking send on your response to the painting, you returned to the inbox and opened a new message from Anonymous. This correspondence was entirely text-based yet no less artistic.

To stand upon the hightest tower of Coruscant,

You will miss the brightest land verdant;

The durasteel walls tighten like a cage around you,

Unlike the open halls found on Naboo;

Yet across the skies that they share are the stars above,

Here I pray, though apart, you feel my love.

You discovered that your mind was piecing together popular images from both planets and arranging them so that they stood in juxtaposition to each other. The fields of Naboo that Coruscant could not boast, the fresh air of the former planet as well. Yet Coruscant had its own beauty amongst those durasteel towers and the pollutants that was known to partner itself with city life. Loveliness in the chaos. You pictured two lonely souls staring up into the sky. Each person on a different planet, longing for more, for one another. A sadness threatened to creep over you. What if, in the end, the two lovers did not meet?

Shaking your head, you shoved aside that line of negative thinking then grunted in response to Aelin asking if you were fine. He was laying on his bed with both hands atop his stomach. If not for his presence, you might have ventured to pursue a different topic of conversation with the two men messaging you. It had been awkward enough during the last portion of your meal when it had dawned on you that the sexually charged flirtations had occurred in front of Aelin. For his part, he had ignored it as much as he could.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you started your reply to the poem. Though it had instilled a sense of melancholy, the hopefulness of the words had stuck out as well and left you with an appreciation of the piece. Like with the painting, you wondered what it was about the poem that had caught the sender’s attention and also if they read poetry on a more regular basis. The message read similar to the one that you had sent to Unknown, with necessary changes to better suit the poem.

You rather enjoyed that the two men held an interest in the arts in some form or another. It set aside the role they played in the looming war that would break out once the First Order was in a better position to take charge. This more human face that you could glimpse behind the safety of a screen helped you to feel less alone. The knowledge that hidden parts within each person were held private for a reason; it reminded you of the droids you had worked on. Lines of code that most would never see despite their importance in the grand scheme of things. Those lines aided in dictating what actions the individual would commit to.

“You’re smiling again,” Aelin muttered, not unkindly. You rolled your eyes though you felt your grin widening in spite of the audience you had obtained with the expression. “Is it work related? I’m curious.”

“No, it is not work related,” you said, turning your head and meeting his gaze. His countenance betrayed nothing if he was suspicious of your actions beyond idle curiosity. The decision to alter the course of the conversation before that had a chance to change prompted: "Do you think I should include mentions of the anti procrastination droids as well?"

Aelin's features twisted, contorting and scrunching as he considered the question. There was merit in revealing that a variety of projects were underway; the senator might be more apt to provide more credits. On the reverse, it spiraled back to ideas being stolen and also could result in him pushing to discuss all projects to include the assassination droids. You half wished that TeeArr was present to aid in distracting the senator despite being fully aware that he would have had the complete opposite effect. While he was continuing to internally debate, you heard the tell-tale sounds of two messages arriving, one a few seconds after the first.

Though you had messaged him second, Anonymous had been the first one to send a reply. You opened it without reading. Aelin had begun to speak at that same moment. “I would hold onto that information in case he presses to talk about the assassination droids after you’ve already spoken of the physical therapy ones. Gives you another means of changing the subject and putting emphasis on this particular project since it encompasses both droids.” He stifled a yawn with one hand. “Mm. Do you mind if I watch a holodrama?”

“Thank you,” you said. “And no--go right ahead. I won’t bother me.” You quite welcomed the distraction that Aelin would be offered by the holodrama, whichever one he happened to select. This gave you a semblance of privacy, a lower risk of him noticing the way your expressions altered as you read the messages you received.

The program Aelin selected was older and you were vaguely familiar with the storyline though you had not watched it yourself. Once he was more immersed in that, you returned your attention to the datapad in your hand and the message displayed thereupon.

Anonymous: [It is an older poem that I was taught as a part of my education. The senator may be familiar with it should you require material necessary to dissuade him from lingering too long on droids as a subject matter. He will enjoy hearing himself talk.]

For another time you felt your face breaking out into a smile that was filled to the brim with amusement. He had only half answered your questions, however you were not disappointed. It was thoughtful for him to have done this, and truth be told you had not considered going this route with the senator. This was not entirely surprising given the fact that you had not had much experience one-on-one interacting with senators or other politicians for that matter. Such business was conducted in larger groups, not dissimilar to when you presented potential projects to the Board at the First Order.

Music filtered into your musings as the holodrama Aelin watched droned on. Instead of responding to the message from Anonymous, you switched over to the reply that Unknown had sent.

Unknown: [Do you know the story behind this painting?]

Once more, not a proper reply to the questions that you had sent. With a shrug, you composed a brief message stating that you did not along with a nudge that you were now more curious about it. After sending this, you returned to the message from Anonymous to thank him for being considerate and attentive to your needs.

Unknown: [The artist stated that she is a spectre, a ghost from his past that he saw on three separate occasions. The night before his mother’s passing. A day after his childhood friend left the planet and never returned. The final occurrence was during his graduation from school.]

You stared at the message without reacting for a beat. Then your eyes narrowed and you found yourself unsure if this meant the woman was an omen for tragedy or success. Was she just some figment of the artist’s imagination. No matter the case, it hit you that Unknown truly was, at least somewhat, invested in this particular painting. To know its history as he did, to have the desire to share it. That was personal. You set aside your datapad and laid down while staring up at the ceiling. These men were going to give you an existential crisis.

After dozing off for a stretch, you quietly slipped off the bed and entered the bathroom with a bundle of fresh clothing to ensure that you looked more presentable when meeting with the senator. The reflection in the mirror showed subtle signs of exhaustion, albeit nothing beyond what was expected with how life had been proceeding. You wanted to get a headstart on the man you were to meet with as a means of gaining the upper hand. Part of that included taking care of your basic needs before he was out of bed. Prior to exiting the room, you checked your datapad for any new messages yet found nothing of note. Aelin was lightly snoring, nothing obnoxious or that would have wakened you had you not already been up and moving.

One the items on your to-do list was to purchase food for breakfast given the fact that you had already agreed to do so. Aelin had already given his order, which you had memorized, and you were willing to pay the extra credits to have the meal delivered at a specified time. You grabbed something small for yourself as well. It had been dark out when you had first left the building in which you were staying; one of the stormtroopers escorted you, and the two of you watched the sunrise in a shared silence. You were not yet sure if the stormtrooper would remain with you once you encountered the senator. A part of you did not mind the idea. Another part of you knew that it would be more difficult to make the meeting seem happenstance instead of premeditated. In the end you did not have to worry; returning indoors had been enough for the stormtrooper to break away from you and resume his previous post.

The lull in activity offered the opportunity to digest the fact that neither Anonymous nor Unknown had sent more messages. You took into consideration the fact that they might have been aiming to not overwhelm you since the both of them were aware of the senator. Plus, you thought after a second, Aelin’s presence might deter them. You smiled a little at that, recalling the thrill you had felt when racing against the clock as you masturbated. Their behavior during the meal was just as exhilarating. Your mind began to race through scenarios wherein you found yourself alone with one of them. Would they kiss you? With no one watching, would they touch you? Your face heated up at the memory of the message that had been sent regarding you being fucked in front of others during the meeting.

What if both of them had you? One of them inside of your cunt and the other in your mouth? “Ah!” You yelped out a swear at the sound. Turning, you spotted the speaker. The senator was escorted by one of his guards and accompanied by a single advisor. The small entourage caused you to inwardly groan. This was something that you had expected, however it did not make you any less annoyed; having the senator one-on-one would be less taxing. “I did not mean to startle you.” There was a slight purr to his voice that you had heard in the past whenever he felt he was in control of the situation. This, naturally, put you into the exact position you wanted to be in: on his good side.

You placed a hand over your chest to feign a more exaggerated rattled state than what you were truly in. “Sorry, I did not mean to swear like that.” The best way to go about this conversation was to rely predominantly on truths. He shook his head and took a step nearer to you. “I was hoping to find you, actually.” You worked through ways to seem submissive simultaneous to taking charge. The man’s advisor was frowning, his eyes pinched halfway closed as he glowered at you in suspicion. You jerked your gaze away from his then chewed on your bottom lip before speaking again. “It stuck with me, your interest in the...thing we discussed in the previous meeting.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” you hummed with a nod. “That one is a bit ways off, what with needing proper programming and trial periods. I hope that is not disappointing.” The senator and advisor shared a look. His guard was generally unresponsive to anything that did not involve fulfilling his duty. This was enough to increase your pre-existing suspicions that he had sought out others for the droid series. You inwardly bristled while outwardly you maintained a calm facade. Kylo Ren’s words echoed in your head, the permission he had given you to lie. “Thankfully we hold the appropriate patents to dissuade others from pursuing a similar model.”

Both were frowning, frustration blossoming on the advisor’s face while the senator appeared more angry than anything. You waved a hand in the air dismissively. “That is beside the point. I just wanted to thank you for the vote of confidence in the project and for your secrecy.”

Maker, I am bored talking to this man. Your mind kept drifting back to the thoughts that had taken residence directly before his approach. Until this point, you had not realized just how much you wanted physical intimacy. Or even just sex, take away any other element that might exist. Your mind circled back to intimacy, however, and the poem that had been sent to you along with the art. It was the poem that you mentioned as a means of breaking up the silent conversation that had been transpiring between senator and advisor while you had been distracted by your reverie. You wanted to keep the physical assistant droids as an Ace up your sleeve during the meeting. You would still not put it past the man to mention the TR8-0R droids, more so now that he believed his plans to go around the First Order were compromised. Sex really would be preferable to this.

Introducing the poem had a powerful impact. The senator pulled away from his advisor with a soft smile that you had never witnessed on his countenance before. You were tugged away from your negative line of thinking. As tantalizing as sex was, you realized that these interactions could translate into your future conversations with General Hux and Kylo Ren. Shift away from business, leave behind work, and focus on something that others would think trivial. A poem of all things, which was evocative of countless emotions. You had been handed a weapon, albeit not one to harm others. One that was a key of sorts. The senator could not duck away from any questions you posed his way as easily as Anonymous and Unknown had; there was no screen for him to hide behind.

Relaxing into the conversation, you listened as the senator began to speak in a more animated, less haughty fashion than he was wont to do. Though you heard everything that he said, some portions were not committed to memory. Your mind drifted in places. You remembered the conversation that you had had with Kylo Ren in the training area. How personal that had been, how it had led to the kiss. Next your encounter with General Hux.

Armitage and Kylo… Both, truly, were the woman in the painting; elusive, puzzles you could not figure out. What did they represent for your personal life?

“There was a sister poem to that one,” the senator said, drawing you out of your thoughts for another time. His advisor lingered several steps behind, your small party having started to walk through the hallway. “It compared Arkanis and Tatooine.” A desert and a planet that rained so frequently. You felt your smile widen at that. This glimpse into a side of the senator that you had not known existed was humbling. It reminded you that you saw only portions of people. This was precisely how you had missed the fact that General Hux and Kylo Ren had each believed themselves to be involved with you.

I need to speak with them one-on-one in a setting that isn’t...a ship or a base… I need to use this time wisely. Lunch and maybe dinner. Or between meals.

“Was the poem with Arkanis written first?” You recalled that this was the birth planet of Armitage Hux, and you were curious if he knew of the poem. If he knew of either of the poems; it was again driving you crazy to not know which man was Anonymous and which was Unknown. Simply more motivation to get them by themselves.

The senator held up a hand haplessly. “I am afraid there are contradicting statements on that.” So much less pompous. The less time he spent conferring with his advisor, the more you enjoyed his company. Maker above, you hated politics. “I do know that the poet is said to have been related to a Jedi.”

Kylo then? He would know more of that, wouldn’t he? Except...the Jedi were involved in politics. You ran your tongue along your lips. “I think I am going to have to do some more research.” He chuckled then suggested the title to a book as a starting point. This you did commit to memory, promising yourself that you were going to mention it to the sender of the poem. See how they responded. It was your goal to unmask them before the day was through.

#kylo ren x reader #general hux x reader #kylo x reader #hux x reader #kylo ren imagine #general hux imagine #errorpnf

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

Text

Be Yours (Knight AU) - Chapter Two

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None that I can think of. Just language

Word Count: 2.7k+

Summary: The dread of not knowing your father’s burden comes crashes down.

A/N: So the battle between my OC and ‘You’ has been fought. And ‘You’ won! Check out my ao3 for any more news about this story, and I did change my character Robert to Paz since I just realized the opportunity I could’ve seized.

Chapter One

You found him by the back after the joust, where the castle’s stables were. Your own horse, and beautiful brown mare you named Henry, was next to his, picking at the hay below his feet.

The lily sat idly by your ear, tangled in your locks. Secretly, you hoped the flower had come from Din, though—logically—you knew it couldn’t have come from him.

He was gently cleaning his horse off, brushing it’s mane and cooing softly to it. The moment was too intimate and you would’ve turned around had he not caught you.

“No matter where I turn, you are always right there, in my shadow.” He sighed.

You smiled and looked down at your feet, careful of the pretty flower and lifting the hems of your dress to walk closer to your horse, stroking his nose.

Din watched you carefully, stiff and unyielding. You took no offense to it now.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose,” you said. “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

“To fight?” Din scoffed, turning back to the white mare. “I didn’t think you to be the type.”

Now you were the one to scoff. “And why is that, hm? Because I am a woman? Women can fight too, you know.”

“I know. And I would never think that, Princess. It’s just…”

You waited patiently, keeping your attention on Henry so you wouldn’t scare him—the man in the heavy armor that is.

“I do not think your father would appreciate it,” he finally answered. “This kingdom needs a queen, and—”

“Spare me,” you stopped him. “Just tell me the truth.”

Din sighed heavily again. He did that a lot.

“Your father… has made it known. It is too dangerous and he’d rather you stay away from the likes of war.”

You closed your eyes in frustration. Of course it would be your father.

“It isn’t his business,” you snapped. “And I’ll have you know that I can do whatever the hell I please, so I don’t need my father’s permission to wield a sword, Knight.”

Din tilted his head, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Before you could make any sort of apology—like you were taught to—he stifled a chuckle.

And it was so small but it radiated like a thousand suns. A thousand suns, blaring bright and proud in this little moment of serenity. You found herself smiling, chuckling and shaking your head at him.

“Some days it’s hard to believe you’re a princess. You hardly act like it.” He noted.

You giggled. “You’re not the first to inform me of this,” you said. “And soon enough it will be ‘Queen’.”

“I’m sure you will be a fine one.”

You blushed, turning your face away to cover it. But it quickly turned into a sigh, stepping away from your beloved horse.

“I’m not sure that’s entirely what I want.”

It was the first time you said it to someone who wasn’t Jules. It slipped out hesitantly, but once the words left you felt better, lighter even. And you trusted Din, not only with your secrets but with your life as well.

You saw him visibly tense from your peripheral vision. It confused you, but you guessed he was just looking out for you—as he never failed to do—making sure no wandering ears heard your declaration.

Din cleared his throat, making you fully turn to him. He wasn’t looking at you, still trained on his horse, but he had stopped petting him and had a hunch to his form, like he was bearing more than just the weight of his attire.

“I do not think it is wise to say such things so loudly.”

He said your name, and it made your stomach drop at the warning held behind it.

“What —” You cleared your throat to swallow down the lump. “What are you not telling me, Din?”

Before he could say anymore, an echoed voice called out.

“Of course,” Paz sneered. “The magnificent Din Djarin, the Princess’s little bitch, playing idly while —”

He stopped when he saw you. You smirked inwardly when you saw the way his body stiffened, like he had just been struck by a sword, and imagined he looked just as horrified as he felt.

“P-princess.” The appointer stuttered. “My apologies, m'lady. I did not realize you were here.”

“Clearly.” You spat out, chin tilted up. “But please, don’t stop at my expense. Finish what you were going to say.”

Paz was becoming uncomfortable and you reveled in it. Din, however, just seemed as though he wanted the whole thing done and over with so he could move on with his day; you didn’t blame him.

“Go.” You finally ordered. “And do not speak to my guard that way again. Perhaps your silence is more of use to me than your sword.”

He stammered, clearly embarrassed, and prodded away with careful steps.

You and Din relaxed at the same moment, but now without a word to say to each other. The silence, although, was quite comfortable between you and it felt nice, being able to share it with someone. You suspected Din must have felt the same way, or least appreciated your understanding of his silent personality.

“What is the deal between the two of you?” You broke the silence.

He grunted softly, giving you a small, careless shrug. “Childish rivarily, one that I do not particularly care for.”

You hummed, picking at a tiny piece of string of the seam of your gown. “Well, if he continues on, be sure to tell me.”

The armor creaked, background noise to you at that point, as he fully turned towards you, arms hanging like boards at his sides.

“I can take care of it.” It wasn’t threatening, nor frustrated; just a simple fact.

“I know.”

He was going to say something else. Your ears perked for it, but another voice—lest wasn’t Paz—tried to entice the void.

“Princess!” Jules called out. “You're needed by your father at once, the food is ready to be served.”

You grimaced. Your father had terrible timing.

“Okay.” You murmured, not even sure if she would be able to hear you.

“Are you going to eat as well?” You asked Din.

Din shuffled on his feet. “Not yet. Have duties to attend to.”

You smiled softly. “Well, for my sake Din, try the new sauce. I think you’ll like it.”

He gave you a small bow with the tilt of his head as you walked by, brushing against him as you did. You only walked just a short way before stopping, turning your head.

“May I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Don’t suppose you know the kind person who gifted me this flower?” You asked lightly, giving yourself a mental pat at the ability to hide the shyness from your voice. “It was left on my seat before the joust, and I would like to give them a proper thanks.”

“I’m afraid not.” He put out quickly.

Your excited heart sank, but your expression remained neutral.

“Shame,” you whispered. “Such a lovely flower.”

You walked further away without another glance. You weren’t trying to be rude, you really weren’t, but you didn’t think you had it in you to hide your disappointment; you hated the fact that you had more of a difficult time with Din than anyone else.

Jules did not say anything as she walked by your side. You were grateful for that; your thoughts too scrambled to form a conversation.

Why are you so disappointed? You had to have known the flower wasn’t from him. You knew it was dangerous to exploit your dislike of being tied down to the royal rule. You—

It continued on and you wanted to scream.

Maybe you should, let the whole damn world hear you stupid scream over a silly little crush.

You were seated by the time you crawled out of your thoughts. Your father made a face at you, wondering with his eyes of the mood you were currently in. You just gave him a one sided shrug and a forced smile.

The food was delicious. That was something—even lost in your own head—couldn’t deny nor ignore. Especially when you caught eyes with Peter, smiling with glee at the reactions to his sacred art.

“This is exquisite!” Your father exclaimed, just loudly enough so Peter could hear as well.

“It is.” You agreed. “We’ll have to have more of it.”

Your father's words blurred into the background again, and you shoved a mouthful of pudding into your mouth when you looked up and spotted him.

Oh Lord. What is he doing here?

Gerald was part of Colestead’s line of fearless Knights, one that used to remind you of that of a wolf when you watched the rare and few times he participated in any fight of entertainment.

But despite his ruthless combat skills, it didn’t show in the way he spoke—all soft, kind natured, at least towards you.

And his presence here, as he leaned towards Din, who had just walked through the threshold of your hall, brought you back to the ship you saw earlier and your father’s words echoed in your head. Your chest tightened as the anxiety—unknown and abrupt to you, the sudden fear behind it that made the room spin—clawed at you.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Do not cause a scene. Do not do anything stupid.

You took a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself. Bringham must have noticed your stance, because he followed your sight until he stiffened. It went away as soon as it appeared, and he took a big swig from his cup.

“I’m not going to say a word about it.” You assured lowly and quickly.

He exhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. But he looked on solemn towards his people, and turned his head to you with understanding in his eyes.

“You will know. I’ve promised you this before, and have every intention of keeping to it, love.”

You gave him a tired smile and his shoulder a playful pat. You forced your eyes to stay ahead or to the left, but never to the right where that man stood. If you wanted to make it through the last of the festivities without a trick, then you had to do anything to keep your mind distracted.

Which is why you called Victoria, a pretty young girl around your age, to your seat with a wide smile.

Victoria was a very beautiful woman; strawberry blonde hair, just slightly longer than yours, hazel eyes and a wicked curve to her grin. It certainly matched her soul.

Now you never really liked her as a friend, but there were moments where you could hold a decent conversation without wanting to tear her head off. You prayed this would be one of them.

And she happened to be the daughter of your father’s precious friend.

“Oh,” she said your name, sweetlike. “Such a beautiful day to celebrate! And where is that lovely maiden of yours?”

Jules did not like her either. You wouldn’t put her through that, and besides, you had no idea on where your friend could be; she soon disappeared just shortly after you were seated.

“Not sure I’m afraid.” You clicked. “But I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Jules would get a kick out of it.

She hummed, then looked over to that dreadful right, making your eyes twitched.

“Between you and I,” she said before leaning down to whisper, “I like the White Knight.”

Din. Of course.

“You are aware that’s my guard you’re talking about.” You grumbled.

She giggled. “What do you think I’m going to do, Princess? Seduce your little knight away? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But more likely to be tried? Positively.

“You’re right. So silly of me.”

Bringham suddenly stood up, clearing his throat and tapping on his mug with a silver spoon. The crowd started to silence themselves as their king awaited patiently, and Victoria gave you a sly wink before slinking back to her seat.

“Riverhearth has never looked as lively as it does now!”

There were cheers echoed across the hall, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread your cheeks.

“Enjoy this feast… this moment now. Remember the happy faces and tears of joy you see around yourselves tonight, and keep a tight hold on them, so that they may never fall into darkness.”

They continued to cheer, mouthing praises and going back to their meals as their king, your father, sat down.

Your father, whose eyes looked more aged than they did that morning. Who looked so much older than he should, holding the weight of whatever secret he was withholding from you.

And that blood on your fingers, remember those?

The rest of the feast went by quickly afterwards. You were quick to send hugs and waves as everyone settled off to their homes. Bringham escorted you to your room himself, yapping away about fairy tales as you listened; he was drunk again. Perfect for you.

You waited until midnight hit, and everything was quiet. You put on a small coat and very slowly creaked your bedroom door open, sticking your head out to make sure there were no one around.

The tiptoes around the halls made you think back to that night, and how quiet he was too to sneak up on you like that. Maybe you were too drunk to notice at the time, but either way there appeared to be no guard in sight.

“Princess.”

You spoke too soon.

With a roll of your eyes you turned around to face Din, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Knight.”

“Not surprised to see you about at this time. Again.”

You stifled a smile at the slight irritation in his voice. “Yes. And are you going to drag me back to my room? Again.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he stalked towards you. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I have no quarrels with either.”

Your hard, tough stance faltered and he caught it. “I—.”

“What’s the problem with me wandering around my own home.” You interjected. “And besides, I have… important matters to attend to.”

You berrated yourself for not coming up with a better ploy, but it was too late to take back and Din was still walking towards you.

“Please.” You pleaded quietly. “Please just let me—I just want to—I saw him talking to you.”

His heavy puff told you that he knew exactly who you were talking about. You prepared yourself for another argument. The seconds, possibly even minutes that passed by fed into the clawing in your chest, the hard grasp to your heart. You closed your eyes and counted your breaths as you slowly inhaled and exhaled.

“You will not speak of this to anyone. Not even Jules. Do you understand?”

He caught you off guard. Your arms fell loosely by your sides, your expression falling and the rest of your wait breath escaping you with a puff.

“Okay.” You nodded eagerly. “I promise.”

Din hovered his arm over your shoulder, leading you back to your room.

“What—.”

“Not out here.” He shushed.

You walked the rest of the way with another held breath, and you refused to release it until you heard your bedroom door close behind him.

“There have been… rumors,” Din started. “Wars. Death. Magic even. There are—there is something coming, and Bringham—he’s enlisting Colestead’s aid in the matter, before we’re left defenseless.”

Sit. You have to sit down.

You padded around behind you until you felt the wood of your headboard against your skin, and sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Okay.” You whispered. “So—so that means—.”

You weren’t stupid. You were on good terms with Colestead, no problem at all with aid, but you weren’t stupid. You knew what this entitled, or what it could.

“Yes.” Din confirmed, apologetically even. “James will arrive tomorrow at noon. And they’re—there’s—”

You held up a hand, effectively silencing him. He couldn’t say it, not wanting to push you further over the cliff you were dangerously hanging low from.

You already knew.

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #be yours #alternate universe

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