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pepshee · 1 day ago

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Jealousy, or Jealous Hee

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre - college!au, smut, angst, exes to ??

Word Count - 3.2k

Synopsis - Heeseung was the perfect boyfriend and your first for everything romantic. When he broke up with you out of the blue and changed his entire personality you didn't know what to do. Until you saw him at a house party that is.

Warnings - cursing, drinking, angst, suggestive, mentions of jake + other idols, arguing, heeseung is a playboy, house party, creampie, oral (f rec.), p in v, mentions of smoking, lmk if i missed anything ! 18+ MDNI!

A/N - this is only my second fic ever and i didnt expect ppl to actually like the last one.. i'm adding smut this time cause i feel it's fitting. please give feedback!! this also might be a multi part fic if ppl want it... this is my first time writing smut too i hope it's good for yall😞 ive read a ton of smut fics so im using those as my references 🙏

Your relationship with Heeseung was going super well. Everyone said you two were soulmates, and were made for each other. You were practically glued at the hip, and did everything together including applying to the same college. You guys celebrated so much when you were both accepted. You knew you wouldn't be in the same dorm per the university guidelines, you both were still so happy.

It was everything you could ever ask for. The summer before college you two went on a long beach trip by yourselves even though neither of your parents approve, but who cares? You're adults now anyways.

The beach trip went super well and you two had lots of fun together, and lots of sex..

He helped you move into your dorm as back to school season is starting and everyone knows it's better to move into your dorm prior to starting school. You also helped him move into his dorm as well.

That was two and a half years ago though.. He broke up with you two days before the first day without an explanation..

────୨ৎ────

It's been two and a half years since the breakup and you still never got an actual reason. All you know is two days before both of your first days of your freshman year in college he texted you saying, "I wanna break up, I'm sorry, I'll miss you," that's it.

After the breakup he changed completely. He became a playboy. He started smoking, drinking alcohol, going to house parties, hooking up, and he'd skip classes sometimes. You never could've imagined he'd do this. To you he was a perfect angel, but it's like a switch flipped on him.

You're both now in your junior year of college. You both went your respective ways but you're not over it, and you don't think you ever will be. When he broke up with you, you cried all night and all day, never leaving the bed nor the dorm. Your roommate, Giselle, only having known you for a week had taken care of you and comforted you. She's now your best friend and she still hears you cry sometimes but pretends not to hear it knowing you were trying to hide it.

Heeseung broke your heart and you don't think you could ever recover even nearly three years later. What's even worse is that he became popular. You heard about his every move pretty much considering everyone was pretty much obsessed with him. It was always 'heeseung this' or 'heeseung that,' you were sick of it. Not because you hated him, hell, how could you hate someone you dated since your freshman year of high school?

You had always heard about his new girlfriends cause it was always the next big news on campus, which you never understood considering they'd only last a maximum a week. This new version of him was unlikable, at least to you, others didn't seem to care that he kept playing these girls. They somehow keep throwing themselves at him claiming they're different. They always expect to be the one to 'fix him' or the one he decides to keep but it never ends up working for them.

The more you heard about him the more it seemed like he was trying to stray far from the lover boy personality he had years ago. The truth is that you still love and miss him, you know it's far gone by now but how could you forget dating someone for five years just for him to break up with you without an explanation?

You couldn't bring yourself to confront him, text him, nor talk to him. It was like that part of your life was imaginary. You hated it, you hated that it happened like this, and most of all, you hated that you didn't know why.

────୨ৎ────

Today you and your friends had planned to go to your friend's house party. Years ago you wouldn't have imagined going to a college party, but that's because you and Heeseung were together and you would've rather hung out with him. Now that you're broken up, you figured at least the free alcohol could help. You've gone to a few parties now, but only the ones that are on weekends.

It was Friday and you only had two classes today. One that was two hours long, and one that was about an hour and a half. You get up and get dressed, wearing just a casual T-Shirt with some shorts as it was pretty warm outside. You finish getting ready, and do your makeup, curl your hair, and grab your stuff before leaving your dorm room.

Your first class was pretty boring as always. it was a literature class which honestly didn't even go with your major but you still had to take it for some reason.

Your second class was also boring, but thankfully it was shorter, even if only by 30 minutes.

Finally, you were done with classes for the day and you and your friends decided to meet up at a nearby restaurant to eat before the party because you're all likely gonna drink alcohol.

After arriving at the restaurant you wait out front for your friends to arrive. It only takes them a short while. All of you walk in to get seated and order your food and drinks.

"So did any of you see Heeseungs new girl?" Your friend Moka had asked. Your friends knew about your history with Heeseung, but they still insisted on gossiping about him for some reason. "No, who is it now?" Giselle was curious, as always, she loved to gossip.

"It's Nayeon, she's so pretty. Do you guys think he will ever settle down with someone?" Yujin responded, you stayed silent throughout the exchange which was a normal occurrence whenever Heeseung was brought up.

Finally the waiter brings all of your orders. You all start to eat and enjoy the food you had ordered. You thought they would drop the topic of Heeseung but they didn't. "Hey look at Heeseung's story!" Karina turned her phone to the rest of you. On the screen you see a photo of Heeseung, with Nayeon, but it's in the cafe you two used to go to all the time when you were together. The text on the photo reads "same place, different person," it was like he was taunting you, like he knew you would see it, like he knew you'd be affected. You tried not to let it show but he was right, it did affect you.

All the memories started flowing back of all the times you two went there, you went so much to the point the employees already knew what you both would order without having to ask. It was your favorite place to go when you had downtime, and when you could leave school in the middle of the day when you were seniors in high school. You had never imagined a life without Heeseung but now you do and it's hard.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Giselle speaking to you. "Y/N, are you okay? You seemed out of it, and you haven't touched your food much," you nodded letting her know you're okay. "Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you reassured everyone and went back to eating.

────୨ৎ────

The time of the party was now approaching. You all decided to facetime while getting ready. You decided to get a little scandalous with your outfit which you usually never did. You put on a black lace cropped tank top, with a denim mini skirt which was just a bit too small for you, but that's the point. You put on a pair of thigh highs, heels, do your makeup, curl your hair, and finally add some finishing touches of jewelry.

You and Giselle leave your dorm and head to the campus courtyard to meet up with the other two girls. "Oh my god, Y/N, you look so hot, you have to dress like this more often," you giggle at Karina's compliments. The four of you meet your friend Minnie who is the designated driver. She doesn't like to drink alcohol, but she still wanted to go to the party so she agreed to be the DD.

It only took about 20 minutes to get to the party, you don't know whose house it was but it was pretty large. You all enter the party, and decide to split up. You head to the kitchen immediately wanting to drink some alcohol. You see multiple empty, full, and half-full bottles of various alcohols. You don't even pay attention to whichever one you grab, you just pour it into a cup. The alcohol leaves a small burning sensation in the back of your throat. You walk towards the living room where the majority of people are, but you spot someone you weren't ready to come face to face with yet as the wound is still wide open... Heeseung..

He was with his douchey friends that he had made after he did a complete 180 with his personality. The seven boys were always causing a stir, but they were so hot you had to admit...

You hadn't realized you were staring at him, but he had.

Heeseung was talking with his friends until he had a feeling someone was staring at him. He thought it was just another girl that wanted to suck him off or something. He turned his head to find you staring his way. He didn't really know how to react really, it's been a while since he'd since you despite you two being on the same college campus. He'd only seen you from a distance really.

The truth is he did miss you, and he would purposefully post his new girls just cause he knew you would see and would get jealous. He knew it was toxic and wrong but he didn't really care. At first he had no interest in posting the girls he was with because it would only be for a short while. That was until he started to miss you, miss everything you did together, miss your lips, your smile, your laugh, everything about you. That's when he started to try and make you jealous, and as far as he can tell it's working.

As he looks back at you his lips curve into a smirk before he excuses himself from his friends, "yo, guys, I'll be right back alright?" he announced. His friends give him small smirks knowing that usually when he excuses himself at a party it's for a girl.

You only realize he was staring back at you when he starts to approach you. You internally start freaking out not knowing what to do. Before you can come up with something he's already in front of you.

"Y/N. You're dressed... quite.. sexy.." His smirk gets even larger as those words come out his mouth. "You're also quite flushed, you're already drunk aren't you?" Shit, you hadn't even realized the alcohol had kicked in.

"What do you want Heeseung," you tried to sound mad and upset but it turned out more slurred than you wanted due to the alcohol in your system.

"To talk to my sexy ex-girlfriend, is there an issue?" You hated the cockiness in his voice. You hated how he was acting like nothing happened, like it was all okay, like you didn't cry, and throw up multiple days straight.

"Don't act like nothing happened. You broke up with me out of the blue.. You fucking hurt me." Your words now finally pack the punch you wanted the whole time.

"Come on don't act like that, seriously, just talk to me and be civil Y/N," a fake pout formed on his face as if trying to earn sympathy points from you.

"Can you take shit seriously for once? Ever since we broke up you changed and I fucking hate it! You would've never acted like this two and a half years ago!" You raised your voice at him, it's not loud enough for everyone to hear but some people nearby steal glances at the two of you. "Come on you don't mean that baby," He was starting to irritate you. Does he seriously have no shame? How did he end up like this?

"God you're so irritating you know that?! You're acting like you didn't break my heart, like you didn't leave me high and dry, without a rhyme or reason," now yelling at him because his act was getting to you, how could he be so nonchalant about this?

"Calm down okay? Let's talk about this when you're not drunk, don't cause a scene, you're gonna regret it later baby," his words weren;t working on you, but then you then you thought about it. Maybe he was right, you should calm down, you hated creating scenes.

"Why're you calling me baby Heeseung?" Your voice is now softer, no longer yelling at him.

"You used to be my baby," you really didn't know how to react to his words, after all it's his fault you're broken up.

Your thoughts are immediately interrupted by his lips on yours. A feeling you haven't felt in so long. The kiss begins to become more like making out, his tongue dancing with yours and his hands on your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

He breaks the kiss to catch his breath and to say, "you're so lucky my buddy Jake owns this house. Follow me to the bedroom baby," the alcohol, and desire completely throw all of your common sense and critical thinking out the window. He takes your hand and leads you upstairs to an empty bedroom.

Once in the bedroom he immediately closes and locks the door before pinning you against it. Before you can process anything his lips are once again on yours moving hungrily.

He breaks away to remove your top, which coincidentally you weren't wearing a bra under. He lets out a small gasp but then a smirk curves onto his lips. His hands grab onto your breasts kneading them before taking one into his mouth.

You moan at the sensation and move one of your hands to his hair gripping it lightly. "Hee–" your breathless words made him want you even more.

He releases your breasts and removes his own shirt, unbuttoning it quickly.

Seeing his bare torso after so long could've made you cum on the spot, you loved his abs so much, you'd caress them randomly even if you were just cuddling and watching tv. "You're drooling Y/N," he chuckles. "No I'm not!" trying to wipe the saliva that had escaped the corners of your mouth.

He takes your hand and drags you over to the bed pushing you down onto it gently. He climbs on top of you, now hovering above you. He kisses you again while his hands move to the waistband of your short skirt. He breaks the kiss for a moment, "can I?" he asks, waiting for you to grant him permission to remove it.

You nod unable to form words momentarily. He wastes no time unbuttoning the denim skirt and unzipping it. He pulls it down leaving you in just your baby pink lacy underwear.

"These are so cute baby, I love this new pair," Heeseung had seen pretty much every pair of your underwear while you were together. You two were quite the hormonal teenagers in high school.

He then removes his pants, now leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

He reaches to remove your underwear sliding it down your legs before tossing it somewhere in the room. He slowly spreads your legs giving himself a view of your bare pussy. "Just how I remember it... So wet and pretty for me. He'd always do this whenever you two had sex. He'd spend so much time complimenting your pussy as if it could hear him. You always had to beg and plead for him to do something to you. "I'm gonna eat her okay?" he looks up at you waiting for approval whilst positioning his head between your legs.

"Please..." he doesn't hesitate after hearing your breathless plea to start licking your folds. The sensation is one you haven't felt in a while making it feel foreign to you once again. "Hee—" you moan. Your fingers bury themselves into his soft locks.

He continues to lick and occasionally sucks on your clit. He then inserts two fingers and starts moving them in and out of you. The double stimulation from his tongue and fingers making you see colors, the grip on Heeseung's and hair and your grip on the sheets making your knuckles turn white slightly. It's surprising how you're not ripping out his hair at this point. "Shit- Heeseung.. I'm gonna c-cum!" You can feel him smirking against your cunt as your loud moaning signifies your approaching orgasm.

Before you can let it go he pulls away making you whimper at the loss of stimulation, and the emptiness without his fingers. You're about to complain but he opens his mouth before you, "I want you to cum on my dick, not my tongue baby."

He then pulls down his boxers revealing his hard length, the one you haven't seen in nearly three years. You still loved it though, it was so big, thick and veiny... It was one of your favorite things about him, how blessed he was to be so big.

He pumps himself a few times before positioning himself between your legs. "You ready for me?" you couldn't tell if he was talking to you, or your pussy but you responded anyway "yes... please..."

He slowly inserts himself into your entrance going slowly so you can adjust to his size. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you. He bottoms out, pausing for a moment to let you adjust. "Please— can you move," you whine. He chuckles at your words before he starts moving his thrusts starting out slow before he starts speeding it up, the sounds of skin slapping together fills the room as he splits your hole open. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

"You feel so good baby, just how I remember. So tight for me baby," he groans as he feels you clench around him at his words. "Seungie-" your fingers gripping the sheets tighter.

"I know baby, I know," he knew exactly what was happening. He loved the sound of you calling him his old nickname. "Let go for me baby, we'll cum at the same time."

All it takes is a few more thrusts for you both to let go, the knot that was forming in your stomach finally snapping. You felt his warm release coating your walls, and you felt your release mixing with his. He pulled out of you gently, careful as to not hurt you. You could feel the liquids spilling out and sliding down your ass.

Heeseung lays next to you looking into your eyes, "goodnight Y/N," he says softly. You give him a gentle smile before closing your eyes and going to sleep.

What happens now?

What happens between you two?

Do you get back together?

thank you all for reading!! this was my first time writing smut, and my second time ever writing fan fiction... should i write a part two or no...

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httpuckdrop · 2 days ago

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ashes – day 144 (2)

author's note: pretty sure this can be read as a standalone fic, or as a part of my "ashes" series! this is the real alternative ending… considering how the game didn't end as we hoped…. you can check out that part too here, though, because i added some important-ish things to it. anyways i kinda really like how this chapter ended up sooo hope you enjoy too. <3

jack barely said a word to you all evening.

when you met him in the hallway leading to his changing room after the game, he seemed as miserable as ever. barely looking into your eyes, thoughts clearly on something else, rubbing his temples tiredly. you tried everything you could to light up his mood – a cheek kiss, intertwining your fingers with his, whispering sweet nothings into his ear – but he wasn't having any of it.

not that you didn't understand. he had just lost a major game and gone through this championship with just one point to his name. this was definitely not something he was used to, or what he had expected from himself. it didn't surprise you the slightest that he wasn't happy with the outcome of tonight.

after a long and painfully silent taxi ride back to the hotel, jack hurried off to his own room – the one he was sharing with a teammate – to gather some of his things and bring them to your room. most of the american players were going out to drink the loss out of their minds, and jack had no intention of being in his room when his roommate stumbled in drunk at four in the morning.

you'd expected jack to maybe stay in his room for a while and collect his thoughts before coming over to yours. you knew he had a lot to deal with, and you knew he wasn't always the most articulate about these things. talking wasn't his way of letting things like these out.

and yet, he knocked on your door just minutes after you'd parted from him in the hallway. he dumped his bag on the floor after he'd stepped inside, barely acknowledging you as he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed.

this wasn't his usual, relaxed and comfortable silence; this one was heavy, rugged and loaded, making the air thick. jack looked like he wanted to punch something, and you were almost scared that he would – but instead, he simply pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.

you'd seen him get irritated over games before – but this wasn't like any of the other games. this was a chance for him to prove that he belonged on the international level.

"i should've reached more for that pass," jack said after a few long moments. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "i should've stood a little closer, read the game better."

sitting down on the bed, though giving him some space, you were unsure what to say. you knew he didn't like platitudes such as "you were good anyway", and you knew he hated when people tried to comfort him in a way that made him feel like they were just belittling his anger. you had seen enough hockey games at this point to know that there isn't just one mistake that makes an entire game – if the us team hadn't let in two goals earlier in the game, they would have won without going into overtime – but that's not how jack saw it. in his head, it wasn't about the team.

it was about him.

you tried to swallow but your mouth was too dry. his voice was full of contempt, but he needed to let it out, so you didn't say anything. you placed a hand on his back, slowly and carefully, to see if he could even accept any kind of comfort right now.

at first, the thick muscles of his back tensed. but after a few seconds, he breathed out and dropped his face into his hands. "fuck."

his voice was so low, so weak, but it carried his entire frustration.

you didn't say anything more – and neither did he. until he finally looked up, right at you, chest trembling with his unsure breaths. "i need you."

the unexpectancy of the words felt like a dagger to your heart. it wasn't a sexual thing, not even a romantic thing. he just said it like the words escaped from his lips before he could stop them, before he could think them through.

you had no idea what to do. jack, ever the controlled and confident man, spoke with a voice so frail that it broke mid-sentence. he had never said something like this before; jack had always been the strong one, the one to not admit his weaknesses. he showed his feelings, but very rarely said them.

that's when it hit you – he was feeling more than he said out loud.

you knew you should answer him. say anything, but no words came out. so you did the only thing you knew of; you scooted closer, arms draping across his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. he froze, but only for a second before melting into the embrace. with his face nuzzled into your hair, he whispered, "i really wanted to win this. not for the team... for myself. to prove that i'm capable of it. because it's... all i have."

hockey wasn't just a career for him, nor just a sport he loved. it was a part of him.

and you were a part of him, too.

"you have me," you whispered back, unsure if it was a promise or not. but at this moment, it was true.

it took jack hours to fall asleep. it was just as hard for you to doze off, to be fair; his words kept echoing through your mind all night.

i need you.

you knew he said it in a moment of vulnerability, that he wasn't thinking. but... he still said it. it definitely could still be true.

instinctively, you turned around to face him in the darkness. the contours of his jaw were illuminated in the soft moonlight, the soft stubble almost begging for you to brush your thumb across it. but when your gaze climbed higher, you realized – his eyes were wide open, staring into the ceiling.

"you're not sleeping," you whispered.

his breath hitched ever so slightly. busted. "no." his voice was hoarse, tired.

"what are you thinking about?"

he was quiet for so long that you were scared he wouldn't answer. "the fact that i'll never be good enough."

it was so out of the blue that your chest ached with guilt. "jack..."

"it doesn't matter how much i practice. there will always be someone better, someone who scores more points than me, someone more worthy to work on."

it hurt to hear him talk that way. both because it was so far from the truth – did he not still hold the record for most points and assists in usntdp history? – and because he was always so sure of himself, so good at pushing himself forward, never letting his insecurities win over him. "you know that isn't true."

he turned his head in your direction. you couldn't properly make out his expression, but you could feel his gaze on you. "do i?"

"jack," you let out a low sigh. "if you hadn't been good enough, you wouldn't even have been here. you've already made it further than most people. this was one tournament, one game; it doesn't define you."

he shut his eyes as if trying to take in your words. when he opened them again, there was something heavier in his eyes. "it feels like it does."

you wanted to say something more, to make him understand. you wanted to rabble records at him, remind him of what his teammates think of him, what all of the reporters say about his talent. yet, there was something about the way he said it that made you realize that none of those things were what he needed. he didn't need someone to say that all was well – he just needed you to be there.

so you moved closer, resting your head atop his shoulder. it wasn't a big step, but it was enough. "it wasn't your night," you whispered eventually. "but you're still you."

it took a while, but then you felt it – his hand, dragging slowly up your arm. he didn't say anything, letting his touch act as a way of thanking you.

that night, you fell asleep closer than ever.

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shadowsviper · 18 hours ago

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Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats

I mean as literal cats.

I've been wanting to continue my Birds of a Feather fic but idk if I want to continue it. I have part two half written and I could finish it and post it but that would mean a part three, four, and so on. It's been like a month since I posted the first part and it does end without any cliffhangers so I feel like I could just leave it without continuing it?

Feel free to leave any recommendations for new fics though, no full smuts though I'm bad at writing them. I only write for Thanos and Nam-gyu at the moment. Please don't expect them to be done in a few days either lmao I'm a senior college student I'm busy af and I only write when I have time.

Anyway, enjoy Thanos and Nam-Gyu as cats, and you eventually finding them! I kept reader neutral.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thanos is an orange cat

Nam-gyu is either a black cat or a tuxedo cat

Not a single brain cell between the two of them

Thanos is bigger than Nam-gyu but skinnier due to not being able to eat much on the streets

Thanos has a long tail and he has little control over it. He's smacked Nam-gyu multiple times before without realizing

Nam-gyu has longer fangs, his top ones stick out of his mouth and he thinks it makes him look badass but to Thanos and everyone else, they think he looks adorable

They were strays for a long time. They found each other on a rainy day.

Nam-gyu had a little cardboard box under some stairs, it's not the best home in the world, but it's the best he's ever had. Thanos squeezed himself into the box one day, drenched from the rain. He didn't realize Nam-gyu was already inside but he couldn't care, he was just happy to be out of the rain

Nam-gyu definitely hissed and scratched at Thanos the second he saw him climb in

Thanos couldn't be bothered at all

Nam-gyu decided to leave him be for the night, assuming he'd be gone in the morning

He was wrong, Thanos didn't leave. In fact, he never left.

They quickly got used to each other and decided to stay together. Thanos did most of the hunting when they were hungry since he was faster than Nam-gyu. He would always return with food, scraps taken from people nearby

Thanos was more likely to get into fights with other cats. Whether it's over territory, food, or literally anything. Nam-gyu has to drag him away every time. If Nam-gyu wasn't there, then Thanos would definitely return home with a few scratches

The two of them were smart when they needed to be. When the two of them would go out to hunt together, Nam-gyu became the distraction. He would purposely rub against the store owner's legs, meowing. The store owner would kneel down to pet him and it took everything in him to not try and bite their hand.

While the store owner was distracted, Thanos would jump over the products and snatch up a big fish. As soon as his paws hit the ground, Nam-gyu chased after him, leaving the store owner confused for a second before he realized what they had done

That strategy kept them fed for a while before they started getting recognized and shooed away before they got close to food

At this point, it's probably been about a year since they found each other. Their home remained the same spot, the little cardboard box they met in. That was until their alleyway was cleaned up and their home was gone

Nam-gyu refused to leave for a while. That spot had been his home for the longest time. He didn't know where else to go

It took a while for Thanos to convince him to leave the spot and find a better place. He had suggested places across the river, where the people had more money, meaning more and better food, and maybe even a better home

They slowly made their way across the river, purposely moving at night to avoid people.

If they ever moved during the day, it was guaranteed that Thanos would try to get people to pet him and give him all their attention

Nam-gyu hissed every time a hand came close to him

If he hadn't considered Thanos as a friend, he would've bitten his head off by now

After traveling for a few days, they settled in a alleyway, next to a small cafe. Scraps were limited but it tasted better than anything they had before

This is where you meet them

You were closing the cafe one night and out of the corner of your eye, you saw an orange cat sitting at the corner of the alleyway. You could tell he wasn't getting enough food, the poor cat was scrawny for his size

You knelt down and offered a hand for him to sniff, only for him to simply shove his head into your hand. You could hear the rough purrs coming from him as you scratched his chin

"You're probably starving, huh?" you reached into your bag and pulled out your lunch from earlier. It was just some leftover chicken. You offered it to the cat

After a few sniffs, Thanos ate the chicken without any hesitation. He picked up the last few pieces and looked up at you. He blinked once before walking away and disappearing into the dark alleyway

It was days before you saw the cat again. This time he was sitting at the entrance of the cafe, meowing for your attention.

You gave him your leftovers again and watched as he ate it, took the rest, and disappeared. It became your routine for a few weeks

The next time you saw him again, he was with another cat. He was a sleek black cat with piercing eyes. You could tell he wasn't as friendly as the orange one

"Are they the ones giving you food?" Nam-gyu had asked. His tail flicked from side to side, distrust was evident in all his movements

"Yeah, I didn't even have to do anything. The food is good so I kept coming back," Thanos had said

You didn't know the two of them were talking to each other. All you heard were meows and assumed they were asking for food so you fed them

It took Nam-gyu a while to trust you. He would snatch the food up and eat it from a distance

Thanos was easily attached to you, he loved the attention, the warmth. He soaked it all up

Nam-gyu was the complete opposite, he had a natural distrust of humans and refused to get any closer than he needed. You're lucky if you can hand him some food without him hissing

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm gonna end this here lmao this became longer than what I planned. I might make a part 2.

I kinda want to make this idea into a fic idk though. Please give me some ideas.

#squid game headcanons #squid game thanos #squid game nam gyu #thanos x reader #nam gyu x reader #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong #namgyu x reader #player 230 #player 124 #squid game #squid game x y/n #thanos x y/n #nam gyu x y/n #thanos #nam gyu

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dokyumms · 2 days ago

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omg the mingyu fic is so good!!🩷🩷 Can you do sleepy Hoshi (because new cb!!) or Vernon? 🙈🙈 Your writing is amazing

pairings: hoshi x 14thmember!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 635

cw: none

a/n: thank you so much anon! this turned out way longer than i expected... i just decided to do another 14th member reader bc that's what i did for the mingyu one. it doesn't play that much of a role tho tbh. ALSO sorry about my inconsistent formatting; i'm still experimenting with it, but i will land on something soon. hope you enjoy this regardless (๑>◡<๑)

"i'm home～" you sing-song as enter you and hoshi's shared apartment. you don't really expect an answer, taking off your shoes and heading straight to the kitchen for a post work out snack. hoshi has been undoubtly busier than ever, preparing for a comeback just days after a tour- who decided this dumb schedule? like hell, you haven't even recovered from the last 15 aju nices. anyway, because of it, he started coming home later, so your evening routine has just been snacking, showering, waiting for hoshi to come home, falling asleep while waiting for him, and then waking up to him carrying you to your room. today, sadly, seems to be no different.

it isn't until you're practically in the fridge when you realize the kitchen light had already been on when you walked in. paranoid, you call out, "anyone home?"- no answer.

there's no way- did someone break in? you text hoshi: hey babe, did you forget to turn off the kitchen light before you left? pocketing your phone when he doesn't reply, you decide it was probably just you who forgot, still picking up a pan to protect you while you check every room in the house anyway.

after checking the laundry room, bathroom, pantry, and coat closet, you make your way to your room. you're about to open the door when you hear shuffling. "seriously?" you mutter, ready to take out whoever is in your apartment. swinging open the door, you scan the room. there's no one, well almost no one. you realize- no, it was not some burglar who was in your home- just an innocent little hoshi rustling around in his sleep with a tamtam plushie held to his chest.

you sigh in relief, putting the pan somewhere and walking toward the bed. "since when did he come home?" you ask yourself. inspecting him closely, you realize that hoshi really does look cute with tamtam. naturally, you pull out your phone to take a picture, snapping a photo before realizing your flash had automatically turned on. hoshi's brows furrow at the sudden light and he slowly blinks his eyes open. "y/n?" he murmurs while rubbing his eyes. "sorry hosh, my flash just turned on." you explain, smiling sheepishly before leaning down to give him a kiss on his head. you watch his eyes form small crescents in response before he tugs at your shirt, "come here,"

"babe, i haven't even showered-" you try to argue, but hoshi is already throwing tamtam across the room and pulling you into the bed. "just for five minutes," he whispers, draping his leg across your body. hoshi is always more cuddly than usual when he's tired like this, always koala-latching onto you. you don't even try to fight back, relishing in his warmth as he litters your face in small pecks. "i didn't expect you to be home early," you say. "me too, but i guess all my hard work has paid off. don't need to learn any new choreo." he opens his eyes again, lifting his head a little and looks at the pan you left on a nearby chair. "why's there a pan?" you don't respond, just giggling softly before opting to distract him with a kiss.

it's a slow, almost sensual kiss, neither of you having the energy for a full on make out session. he hugs his arms around your waist as you bring your hands to his neck in muscle memory. when you both part, he leans his forehead against yours, smiling softly. you love seeing hoshi like this: barefaced, cheeks a little flushes, and lips tugged into that adorable grin. he pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his head into your neck as he slowly begins to fall asleep again. you could really never get enough of this.

#hoshi #kwon soonyoung #seventeen #svt #hoshi drabbles #hoshi imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen imagines #svt drabbles #svt imagines #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi x you #hoshi x reader #hoshi x y/n #dokyumms #dividers by toastray

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 days ago

Text

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece.

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon.

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?”

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.”

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent.

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull.

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused.

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it.

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.”

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.”

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy.

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face.

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar.

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?”

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far. “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…”

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?”

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ”

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus.

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar.

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand.

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company.

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin.

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her.

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?”

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan.

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd.

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues.

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?!

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.”

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.”

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?”

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

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juliet-017 · 2 days ago

Text

Retribution - M.R.

Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Minors dni!

Warnings: knifeplay & bloodplay, degration, choking/breathplay, orgasm denial/edging, dubcon?, unprotected p n v (but established relationship? Idk if this is a warning)

Synopsis: Everyone experiences stress differently, in turn they each handle it differently. In the case of Mattheo's stress being yours and yours being his, there's really only one way to settle you both. Right?

a/n: I feel like I asked other ppl so much for their opinions on this fic bc I did NOT want to do Mattheo dirty 😭 this fic feels sm weaker than my first one so hopefully y'all enjoy! Thank you for reading

Wc: ~1.5k

End-of-term exams were always stressful for every student, causing different students to snap and argue. Mattheo was no different. Your beloved boyfriend suddenly goes cold again, neglecting practically everything in favor of studying.

You knew you did this purposefully, wearing a skirt a year or so old. Mattheo’s been on edge lately, and for once, the sex was subpar. As usual when you'd press he wouldn't want to talk about it, so you decided to take a new approach.

You barely made it out of your dorm before you felt a rough hand grab your wrist, yanking you towards the boys' dormitories. Recognizing the cologne you relaxed, allowing yourself to be practically manhandled. The dorm door swung open and shut roughly.

“Fucking slut,” Mattheo growled, pinning you against the wall to your dorm, a vice-like grin on your neck. “thought it was cute to wear such a short skirt, did you? How old is this, huh?” He taunts, tugging at the short fabric that barely covers your ass.

“This desperate for attention, what do I not fuck you enough?” He continues, pinning you under his gaze while reaching into his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife and flicking it open. You feel fear quickly building inside you, alongside heat coiling in your lower stomach.

He flicks it out, holding it under your chin, the tip pricking your skin and already eliciting a whine from you.

“Pathetic little thing,” He tuts, shaking his head and drawing it away just enough to give you some space. “Strip.” He instructs, his eyes traveling over you with a small tilt of his head whilst flipping the knife around in his hands.

You hesitate, swallowing thickly and reaching up. Slowly you undo your tie, then your blouse, then your skirt and shoes. You never got used to his stare when he's focused on you, solely you. Flushing, standing in just your bra and panties.

“On the bed,” He drawls, stepping back just enough to let you slip by, walking and sitting yourself on the edge of it. He stands in front of you trailing the blunt end of the blade over your shoulders and collarbones, making you fight to keep eye contact and not shiver.

You feel a wet spot form between your thighs, trying to not squirm too much as the blade turns over to its sharper side. Traveling down your sternum and stopping at your bra, picking at it slightly, silently prompting you.

Complying, you slowly reach back, enclosing the bra before sliding the straps off. Roughly, Mattheo grabs it, tossing it off somewhere and then laying you back onto the bed.

“Look at you.. so obedient all of a sudden.” He hums, lightly tracing the knife over your thighs causing you to flinch and shiver. “Don't know if I should call you a good girl or a filthy fucking whore.” He continues, only making the wet spot on your panties grow. The blade finds its way to the waistband of them, slicing one half open, and causing you to gasp.

“Mattheo! Those were-!” You start, quickly shutting up when the blade finds its way to your throat again, the gentle pressure enough to shut you up despite your trust in him.

“You knew damn well what to expect when you wore that skirt, princess. Lucky I didn't just have you take your panties off and go about your day like that.” He growls, trialing the knife down your body again and stopping on your stomach. He holds the tip of it adjacent to your belly button, taunting, raising a brow as if to say what he could do before continuing back to your panties and cutting the other side now. He adjusts them so he can see you on full display, his cock now straining against his trousers.

This time he does break skin, slicing the skin on your upper thigh. You whine in pain, trying to not watch…

But despite yourself, you can't pull your gaze away. Watching him carve lightly into your skin, writhing slightly as he held you down. Once he finished he spotted your gaze, holding the blade up to your lips as if prompting you to clean it. You hesitate, moving to argue before divulging, tasting your metallic blood on your tongue.

Mattheo did hesitate before closing the pocket knife back up and setting it on his nightstand, kissing the marking he left, tasting the blood himself. You half wondered if this was.. it. That he'd give in and fuck you right here after paying some attention to your wound, licking it, telling you how sweet you were before eating you out and thrusting into you so hard you couldn't walk for days.

But it was different today, still sweet words of how sweet you were, words of how he wanted to mark you all up, taste your blood for ages. Then he pulled away.

“Middle of the bed, all fours.” He instructed smoothly, you complied, facing your ass towards him and ignoring the sting of the wound. Grabbing the back of your neck he forced you to arch your back, grinding his clothed cock against your glistening pussy. “Such a good slut f’me.” He growls, reluctantly taking his hands off you.

You hear him undoing his belt, but not his trousers, you don't even have time to think before the leather collided with your ass, causing you to yelp.

He lashes you a few mores times, making you red and raw. He lightly runs his hand over it, making you squirm away before he grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You're the one that wanted this, remember?” He hums quietly, his voice a false honey.

The next few lashes of the belt catch you off guard, hard and quick, tears forming in your eyes from the pain. He soothes it with his hand again, going between groping and and just running his hand over the red. “Practically begged for it.” He continues, going between belting you and whisper to you in that sweet voice. “Didn’t you?” He hums, the lashes getting a bit sharper.

“Y-yes,” You whimper out, mind melting at the changes in sensation, the harsh words with their praising tone, your walls already clenching in anticipation as you whine and feel your hips involuntarily buck.

Another harsh landing of the belt makes you yelp, wanting to bury your face into a pillow. “Look at you, so desperate to have me put my cock in you. Is that all you are? A little cocksleeve?” He taunts, taking to purely massaging you for the meantime. You can only muster a groan which results in his short nails digging into you. “Answer me,”

“Mhmm, just your cocksleeve,” You manage to drawl out, trying to focus on anything but the sting. You feel the belt loop around your neck, a lose hold.

“Well why let such a perfectly good one go to waste, eh?” Mattheo taunts, ridding himself of his own clothes, trying the pace himself to drawl out your own torture but only finding it harder on himself.

Without any preparation he thrusts into you, pulling the belt tight to cut off your air flow and cutting off your scream caused by a mix of pain and pleasure. Setting a ruthless pace, Mattheo thrusts in and out of you, holding no reguard for your still oozing wound.

The heat in your abdomen that had been growing painfully slow skyrockets, making you yearn to touch yourself, but having just enough it's to not. The hold the belt has on you loosens entirely, Mattheo taking to playing with your tits instead.

“Such a good fuckdoll, all mine.” He grunts, feeling you clench and whine in desperation, but ignoring you. “Gonna make me-” He doesn't even finish his words before painting your walls white, continuing to fuck you through his high, grabbing at whatever he can.

Eventually once you start squirming too much in desperation he tightens the belt hanging limply around your neck. “Would you rather be getting spanked or cut up? No, that's what I thought.” He growls harshly.

You don't even know how many times he's came before even paying any attention to your needy clit, how any of your own orgasms were ruined because of his neglect. But finally, he seems to agree that you deserve it, his hips rutting as he tires himself out, slowly.

Yourself a moaning and drilling mess, barely able to think coherently. You feel another orgasm quickly approaching, moaning and whining. “Getting close?” Mattheo asks, watching the nod of your head before picking up his pace. “Don't cum until I tell you to,” He grunts, watching you nod, feeling you struggling to hold back. Right when you're on the brink, about to fall over, sensing him close to letting you cum he pulls out, covering your ass and lower back, leaving you to sob from yet another ruined orgasm, hips trying to chase the lost pleasure as you shine into his bed sheets again. “See, now if you were a good girl you would've been able to cum.” He chastises, hands running up and down the sides of your body. “Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” He asks, lifting you up in favor of going and running you a bath.

#Juliet-017's works #juliet 017 #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys drabble #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut

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httpzsho · 15 hours ago

Text

I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU | 리키

PAIRINGS. fwb!riki x reader

GENRE. angst, friends to ???

WARNINGS. swearing, kissing

SYNOPSIS. you didn't know being in a situationship was this complicated, especially when the person you're with it is your bestfriend.

SHO'S NOTE. inspired by my bae's ( @nishikio ) fic “It was never just fun” go check it out :]

YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED A LOVE LIFE, watching the cheesy couples act all lovey-dovey during the love month was an eyesore. only becuase you didn't have one of your own.

well, you kind of had one.

your bestfriend, riki. you wouldn't really call him your lover, it's not really official. you don't even remember how it happened. you both just flirted with one another and it flowed into.. whatever this is.

he'd buy you flowers, call you “baby” or “pretty”, take you out on dates, but he'd also ignore your texts, tease you too much, and just simply be a jerk.

you're lying if you said you didn't actually like him. you did, you really do. but it pains you that you don't even know if he does too, or all of this is just some fun to him.

and it doesn't help that he constantly gives you mixed signals.

KI : hello, pretty

: morning, riki :)

KI : you free after school?

: i think so, yeah. why?

KI : go to a party with me. I'll pick you up at 7.

: see you there <3

[ KI reacted '♡' to your message.]

great, a party. you enjoyed being in some, but you really didn't want to go in a party on the night of valentines, you're positive that the room will just be filled with your friends with their partners.

and well, you can't really call him that.

you spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready, putting on your silky red dress, and a plump pink lipstick. you kept your hair simply by just wearing it down. you made your way over to your living room, the sound of your velvety heels making contact with each step.

not long after your doorbell rang, you opened it as your eyes were met with rikis, his outfit simple yet still giving him the elegant look. his chrome hearts hoodie with his pants.

“good evening, gorgeous.”

you chuckled, “oh don't bait me with flattery. let's go,” he grinned as he took your hand and led you to his car as he drove you both to the party. as you expected, it was filled with lovebirds, some even kissing here and there. others are already wasted.

you both made your way to your friendgroup, they knew you and riki weren't just friends, but they were aware you weren't really something. the night went on with you and riki gulping down a few shots. you weren't much of a big drinker. you were starting to get tipsy.

you and riki were on the corner of the room, absentmindedly observing everyone dance and go out and about. you turned to riki, admiring his features. “you're s'handsome,” he chuckled at your giggly tone. “mmh you're just drunk, pretty.” he held your waist gently, just incase your legs begin to give out. “'m not, your lips are plump too.” you stared into them, the gap between you two ever so close.

fuck it. he pressed his lips onto yours, closing his eyes as he melted onto you, for the very first time. he pulled away slowly, realizing what he just did.

fuck, you've never kissed before. and he did it without your consent. this was you and him's first kiss too.

he wiped his lips, your strawberry flavored lippie still lingering within his.

as the night buried on more, he decided to drive you back home. and afterwards went home to his own apartment.

all he could think about was how wrong it was for him to kiss you. you were drunk, what if you didn't want that at all? plus, in you whole 'relationship' you've never kissed before. he doesn't even know if you truly like him or if this is just some no-strings-attached thing.

whatever it was, he knew the solution was to get rid of his feelings. he hated you, he hated your smile, he hated your laugh, he hated your voice. and most of all, he hated how he didn't even hate you one bit.

the day after that you went to school, looking for him. completely oblivious to what happened the previous night. the only recent memory that was left in your mind was you swallowing lots of alcohol.

you spotted him in his usual spot in the cafeteria, you approached him, but he simply gave you a cold look.

“soo, did you have fun last night?” he hummed. that's it. you sighed. this wasn't new. he would always be sweet & charming one moment, then the next it's like he doesn't want you at all. it annoyed you.

you thought it'd be a pattern, sweet then not, sweet then not. but to your surprise the next couple of days were silent. he didn't approach you, call you pretty, or give you any affection. you were curious. and a little hurt angry. did something happen that night? did you do something wrong?

you were going to talk to him but as you went to where you usually saw him, there he was, standing beside his locker with some girl clinging onto him. she looked at him with heart eyes. and he laughed, smiling with her.

that made your heart break into little pieces. yeah sure, he wasn't your boyfriend, but that 'moments' you have together mean nothing to him? were you really just a pawn?

you watched from afar as you clutched your jacket. you didn't even notice the tears in your eyes. why was he so important to you? worst of all, why him?

you went home that day with a heavy heart pounding in your chest. you barely got any sleep. your mind occupied with the memory of him with that girl.

it shouldn't hurt. but it did.

the next few days, the only view that clouded the school was him and that stupid girl. you see him doing the things he did to you, accompany her, buy her snacks from the caféteria, and just simply be there. each moment hurt more than the last.

the last class of the day finally ended. you went out the classroom, only to be met with the sight of him and the girl, again. you were going to tear your eyes off them, but was distracted when she kisses him.

she kissed him. his first kiss.

your heart shattered, once again. he never did that with you.

your tears formed quickly, you rub your eyes and ran. not knowing riki saw you and followed quickly.

you stormed off the school, your brain mindlessly fogged with that scene. why? why was it so easy for him to replace you?

“___!” you heard him call out, his hand grabbed your fist and turned you around. “please, hear me out-” he pleaded, you yelled, “what? that you suddenly went distant then found a girl better than me?” you wiped your tears, not wanting your eyes to meet his.

“it's not like that!” “then what?” you pulled your wrist out of his grasp, “was I that replaceable to you? I thought we had something- but.. I guess not! you even had your first kiss with he—” he cut you off, “she's not my first kiss, you are!” your eyes widened, in complete disbelief. “h-huh?..” you stared at him.

“look, the night at the party—you were drunk, and you caressed my lips and I wasn't thinking so I just kissed you, and I really fucking wanted to do that for a long time, but I don't even know if you liked me seriously or not, and I swear nothing else happened, but I felt really REALLY bad because I just kissed you even if I didn't know if you want to- and I was so in pain because I like you a lot, and I wanted it to go away, so I pretended to like this girl who liked me and she sucks, and then she suddenly kissed me and I wanted nothing but to reel your lips again, because I hate you so much and I hate that I love you, but really I don't!”

he flipped his hair, sighing. “and I completely understand if you don't feel the sa—” you cut him off, pulling him by his collar and pressing your lips against his. for a moment, he freezes. but he soon melts into your lips, kissing you back, just like the first time.

“I.. that was..” he panted, breathless.

“I love you, pretty. I mean it.” you hugged him. and his hands wrapped around your waist, he kissed your forehead. you giggled. “I love you too,”

“you promise?”

“pinky promise.”

⩩ ( @nishikio , @stvrriki ) ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#enhypen #sho writes ☆#niki au #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki fluff #riki fluff #nishimura riki #riki x reader

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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago

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Just wanna preface this by saying this isnt a request, just some brain worms i wanted to share 💚

So i've been reading your designationless!reader au and it got me thinking about A/B/O aus as a whole and specifically about pack dynamics so enjoy!!

John's the alpha of the 141 pack - no doubt about that in my mind. He's strong and sturdy, able to handle everyone's needs and his own. But he does often get lost in his head at night, relying on the pack to keep him grounded. When they're all together, he doesn't need to be the rock 24/7, he's allowed to have his weakened moments as well. And that's just as a person - as an alpha he takes care of his pack. Always getting their food, regularly scenting them, the whole shebang. He courts them all proper and even when they accept, he continues with it as a show that he can provide. That he's a worthy alpha. (Price 100% grew up in a toxic pack and is determined to be better than that)

Ghost is the other alpha - Price's second in command. He's softer with his words but far more purposeful with his actions. After Roba he couldn't trust his words, he saw how easily they could be manipulated. The pack gets morning and night scentings from him, heavily. He needs his pack to smell like him, to remind him that he belongs. He's also touch-starved so the scenting helps soothe that ache, but do expect him to need everyone in his arms nightly. No exceptions. He'll typically help solve smaller problems in the pack to help keep some of the heat off of Price's back. He's the mediator, because there is no beta.

Which leads me to Kyle - an enigma! He's a mix between an omega and an alpha, something both lighter and heavier. He's had to fight hard to get where he is, as enigmas are so rare that they get negatively stigmatized against. His pack was supportive growing up, but a lot of people rolled over and showed their belly as soon as he started barking. It irritates him so he does need regular sparring to help safely regulate it. As a pack member, he's the vocalizer. He says what everyone needs, it helps Price immensely. If they can't, or won't, say what they need, he will. He likes being scented more than he likes scenting others, his scent was told to be too much so he does prefer to cover it up. Price and Soap break that habit after a long night of thorough scenting and reducing poor Gaz to his basest instincts. Ghost reaps the rewards because Gaz becames 10x more open to sudden scentings throughout the day.

Soap, lovely Johnny, the omega. He's not as hot-headed off of missions as people tend to think. He's very down to Earth, very quiet. He makes his explosions so loud so that he can be quiet. Growing up, he was forced into an alpha leaning role and had to take care of his too many siblings (said by someone with 10 siblings), so all he wants is to be taken care of at times. To indulge in the needier instincts he couldn't express growing up. He also loves being scented and gives it right back, and he properly courts the others like John did. Ghost and Gaz were just roped in - seeing as they didn't know much about courting behavior from less-than favorable childhoods. He thrives on attention. Soap also nests very heavily wherever he's most comfortable, giant nests with stolen items from everyone in the pack. He refuses to let dirty items in though and will personally shower with everyone to make sure they're clean (and totally not to enjoy the 1-on-1 time it provides, something he never got growing up, totally not!)

*And then there's you, the designationless one. Your family shut you out when you were younged, your lack of self was off-putting to them. You wanted to belong and the 141 one pack was more than happy to pull you into their fray. They were unafraid to shower you in everything you missed.)

Just some thoughtz :)

👽

This is you rn 👽 anon:

Like thank you god and 👽 anon for blessing my inbox like this omfg how much do i need to pay to get you to write a fic 😩😩

#noona.asks #👽 anon

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felibrary · 9 hours ago

Text

BACK TO FRIENDS

PAIRING: rin itoshi x reader (gender neutral)

SYNOPSIS: when rin itoshi doesn't answer your texts, yoichi isagi has the brilliant plan to invite him over and let you guys make up—but will it work out?

wordcount: 866 | content & warnings: sloppily written, no beta read we die like deadchi, rin is the goat at communicating (jokes for obvious reasons), wingman!isagi, light angst if you squint; drabble

author's note: yeah first fic out of the psych ward yall lol

“did he text you back yet?”

isagi who’s sitting in front of you impatiently taps his fingers against the material of the cafe desk. after a second or two pass, without hearing a response, isagi speaks up once more. this time louder and more irritated. “has mr. rin itoshi answered your texts yet?”

as you look up and survey isagi’s face you can tell that he’s not very pleased—it’s apparent from the way he purses his lips before taking a long sip from his drink. “well,” you start off with hopelessness evident in your voice. “is it colder at night than outside?” your eyes wander from your open chat with rin to isagi.

“has rin messed with your brain that you started speaking in riddles?” isagi sneers as he twirls the drink in his glass around. upon his response you can’t help but chuckle a bit yourself. “shut up yoichi.”

“so, is that a yes?”

“he obviously didn’t answer. opted to avoid me as usual.”

it’s all thanks to isagi that you got to meet rin and technically also why you’re stuck in this situation—he was the one who set the two of you up. it was after the u-20 match when you jokingly remarked to yoichi that rin was not only the better striker but also the better looking one among the two of them.

of course, he didn't take any offense but his look of disbelief and somewhat disgust was a funny sight. from there on isagi and the other’s from the u-20 team (because apparently secrets between childhood best friends have to be told to the whole team now) started teasing you about it.

after gathering a bit of courage you started to approach rin and even when it took him a while to open up to you, it somehow worked. rin was busy for the most part of the day so when it came to talking he usually replied to your texts in the evening after football practice.

over the course of a few weeks you eventually grew closer. having found similar interests and dislikes you can bond over and share your opinion on. admittedly, maybe you were too expectant that things would work out but from how things were developing you thought rin was enjoying it too.

holding hands in the cinema while rin brushed his thumb over yours, having his head on your lap and softly scratching your fingers through his black hair and rin being more open and communicative with you, confessing that you became part of his routine—those were all things which made you get your hopes up.

but perhaps, you were wrong and instead were rushing things.

although he’s not actively avoiding you, his replies are curt and you can sense that rin has distanced himself from you—but you’re unsure why. thus isagi’s constant asking of when or well, if rin has answered you.

“i seriously have no clue what i could’ve possibly done for rin to avoid me now.” you express frustratedly, slumping in your seat. “i wish i could help you better, but i’m not rin.” isagi says in an attempt to cheer you up. “yeah. still, thanks yoichi.”

suddenly isagi’s phone dings, his eyes light up, and isagi fiddles with the pocket of his pants before pulling his phone out, immediately huffing as he reads the newly received notification. there’s a faint smile gracing isagi’s lips and you’re not sure if you should be scared or not.

“yoichi..why are you smiling so weirdly?” you ask carefully. “oh, it’s nothing. rin just texted me that he’s here, which means i’ll take my leave. my job is done here.” isagi hurriedly stands up and grabs his jacket which he draped over the back of the chair before storming out and yelling. “you can thank me later.”

as one guy with black hair leaves, another enters, none other than rin. you lock eyes and stare at him intently, watching what he’s about to do. to your surprise, rin doesn’t seem in the slightest bit caught off guard and joins you at your desk.

“isagi said you wanted to talk to me. what is it?” that was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. “isagi invited you here? saying that i want to talk to you?” you repeat, in hopes of not misunderstanding what rin has said.

he nods in acknowledgment. “did he set this up? if yeah, i’ll just go.” rin already attempts to stand up to take his leave but you stop him. “he didn’t lie. i mean i did want to talk to you but you never replied to the texts i sent you,” rin’s cerulean eyes slightly widen at the mention. “the messages, i mean.” you add abruptly.

“i’m aware.” at his response, you can feel your gut churning. “you’re aware? and you didn't bother to respond?” it’s small but you can see the glimmer of uneasiness swimming in rin’s eyes. after a long pause, rin finally responds, although you’re not sure whether you would’ve rather taken his silence.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think i can provide you with the stuff you need. i think we’d be better off as friends.”

end note: sorry you guys but if i can't be happy yall cant be either LMFAO

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin itoshi angst #blue lock angst #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #rin itoshi x you

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ruewritesoccasionally · 4 hours ago

Note

Hey babe, Can you do a origin story on how the reader or Terry got obsessed with each other ? And how their relationship is going currently?

pairing: dark!terry richmond x black reader

warnings: dark themes, smut (18+), deception, power imbalance, voyerism, possessiveness, obsession, roleplay and implied noncon/dubcon fantasy elements

word count: 2K

a/n: ahhhhhhh dark terry - my favourite. i didn't wanna rehash previous fics i had done so i hope this turned out okay !

how it started:

The engine sputtered. A harsh, grating sound that sent frustration rippling through her body as she twisted the key in the ignition again. Nothing. Just the futile whine of a car refusing to cooperate.

She exhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had places to be.

Pulling out her phone, she searched for roadside assistance, fingers tapping with growing irritation. The estimated wait time? Two hours.

"Oh kill me now!" she muttered, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

As if on cue, headlights appeared in her rearview mirror, illuminating the dim roadside with a golden glow. The hum of a powerful engine slowed behind her, and a familiar truck pulled up alongside her stranded vehicle.

She squinted through the window, and the tension in her shoulders eased when she recognised the driver.

Terry Richmond.

She didn’t know much about him beyond the surface-level pleasantries they had exchanged in passing. He was just… around. A neighbour? Maybe. A local? Definitely. Someone who existed on the periphery of her life, always within reach but never close enough to question.

The window rolled down, and his deep, smooth voice reached her ears. "Car trouble?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Yeah. Just my luck. Won't start, and roadside assistance is useless."

Terry nodded as if this was expected. "Pop the hood. Let me take a look."

She hesitated. She wasn’t naive—accepting help from a man, even one who seemed familiar, always came with a level of risk. But then again, what choice did she have? It wasn’t like she was going anywhere.

Flicking the lever, she watched as he stepped out of his truck. His presence alone was commanding, the way his broad shoulders flexed under his jacket, the purposeful way he moved. He propped the hood open, inspecting the engine with a practiced ease that suggested he had done this plenty of times before.

"Looks like your battery cable’s loose. Could be the alternator, too. But either way, you’re not getting far like this."

Her stomach sank. "Great. Just great."

Terry straightened, wiping his hands on a rag he had pulled from his pocket. "I’ve got tools back at my place. I can fix it up for you if you want a ride. Won’t take long."

She studied him for a beat, weighing her options. On one hand, she could sit here for hours, waiting for a tow truck that may or may not show up. On the other, she could take the offer of help from a man she had no real reason to distrust.

And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the fact that his expression held no urgency, no pressure—just quiet assurance—but she found herself nodding.

"Alright," she relented. "Guess I owe you one."

Terry smiled, slow and knowing, as he opened the truck door for her.

"You have no idea."

The ride back to Terry’s place was quiet, but not uncharged. The soft rumble of the truck’s engine filled the space between them, but it was the glances—the way he occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, then back to the road—that made her shift slightly in her seat. The heat from the vents wrapped around her like a cocoon, lulling her into something close to comfort.

Her fingers traced the edge of her phone absentmindedly. She had texted a friend before getting in, something casual, letting them know she’d broken down and was catching a ride. No real details. Just enough to ease any lingering hesitation.

“You live far from here?” Terry asked, his voice rich, deep, filling the cabin like a slow pour of something strong.

“Not too far,” she murmured. “Few more blocks up.”

“You want me to take you straight home?”

She hesitated, just for a moment. “I—”

“You should warm up first,” he offered before she could decide, his eyes cutting to her with that unreadable gaze. “Don’t want you catching a chill sittin’ out there all that time.”

It made sense. And the way he framed it, so casual, so considerate—it was easy to say yes.

At Terry’s place, the atmosphere was warm. Almost too inviting.

The space was clean but lived-in, a mix of rugged and refined. The scent of something distinctly him clung to the air—woodsy, masculine, with a faint trace of leather and something smoky.

“You’re a cognac girl, right?”

She blinked. “Yeah… how’d you know that?”

Terry just smirked as he poured, the amber liquid catching the light. “Lucky guess.”

She didn’t question it, not when the glass was pressed into her palm, smooth and cool. The first sip burned in the best way, spreading warmth through her chest.

They talked. Not about anything particularly deep—work, the neighbourhood, the occasional grumble about bad mechanics. But it was the way he listened that drew her in. The way his focus never wavered, his eyes drinking her in as if she were the most fascinating thing in the room.

At some point, the space between them shrank. Small touches—his knuckles grazing hers when he reached for his glass, the press of his knee against hers when he shifted in his seat. Nothing overt. Nothing she could call intentional. But it was there.

“You comfortable?”

She nodded, a slow smile playing at her lips. “Yeah. I am.”

The attraction was undeniable, humming between them like an electrical current. And when he made his move—fingers trailing up her arm, his touch firm but unhurried—she didn’t resist.

The first kiss was slow, exploratory. A test, a tease, a promise of something deeper. Then it unravelled, turning into something more. More urgent. More consuming. By the time they made it to his bedroom, their clothes were a scattered path of surrender.

The way he touched her, the way he moved against her—it wasn’t the fumbling heat of a chance encounter. It was deliberate. Measured. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like he’d memorized her, studied her, known exactly how to unravel her piece by piece.

By the time they collapsed against the sheets, tangled and spent, her mind was a hazy blur. She barely registered the press of his lips against her temple, the way his hands smoothed over her skin as if grounding himself in the reality of her.

She drifted into sleep, thinking she’d just had a wild, unexpected night.

And Terry watched her, gaze heavy, unreadable.

He finally had her right where she needed to be.

The room was bathed in the dim glow of a bedside lamp. Terry leaned against the headboard, watching her sleep, his expression unreadable. She looked peaceful, oblivious to the meticulous planning that had brought her here. He reached over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer with slow precision.

Inside lay a well-worn, leather-bound journal. He flipped through the pages, each filled with entries detailing every step, every calculated move that had led to tonight. Notes on her routines, the places she frequented, the things that made her smile. The entry from earlier that day was already taking shape in his mind.

February 23rd. The plan worked perfectly. The cable came loose just as expected, right on schedule. Her frustration was predictable. The waiting time for recovery services? Unacceptable, of course. I knew she’d take my offer. She trusts me now, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

He glanced at her again, reaching for his Polaroid camera. The soft whir filled the silence as the picture printed, her sleeping form captured in the glow of the moonlight. Carefully, he pasted it into the journal, right beside that night’s entry. His fingers trailed over the image, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She fits here. In my space. In my bed. Right where she belongs.

Terry exhaled, closing the journal with quiet reverence. He slid it back into the drawer and switched off the light, his possessive gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. Tomorrow, he would continue what he had started. But for now, he let himself revel in the victory of having her exactly where he wanted her.

how it's going:

Time had done nothing to dull Terry’s obsession. If anything, it had sharpened it.

She thought their relationship was normal—intense, passionate, but normal. He was protective, devoted, the kind of man who knew her better than she knew herself. She had no idea how deep it went.

He still followed her when she left the house. Still kept a record of her every move. The leather-bound journal on his nightstand had filled with more details, more polaroids—her in his bed, her at the coffee shop, her combing her hair in the bathroom. A timeline of his devotion.

She never questioned how much he watched her. If she caught him staring, she only smiled, shaking her head. "You’re always staring at me, Terry." He never denied it. Just smirked, the dark glint in his eyes unreadable. "Can’t help it, baby."

She fed his obsession without realising it. When she went out, she sent him pictures—sometimes a mirror selfie, sometimes just a glimpse of her outfit. She thought it was harmless, flirty. But to him, it was something else entirely. Proof that she belonged to him, even when she wasn’t by his side.

Then came the night everything shifted.

They were curled up on the couch, a bottle of wine half-finished between them. She was relaxed, teasing, playing with the hem of his shirt. And then, so casually, she said it.

"Let’s pretend we’re strangers."

The words settled between them, a spark to dry kindling.

She had no idea what kind of door she had just opened for him.

The bar was dimly lit, low music humming through the space. They sat at opposite ends, pretending not to know each other. She played the part well—giving him coy glances, pretending to be intrigued when he finally approached.

"Can I buy you a drink?" His voice was smooth, casual.

She tilted her head, smirking. "Depends. Are you a gentleman or trouble?"

His lips twitched. Both.

She thought it was just a game, a fun way to switch things up. But for him, it was more than that. It was reliving the thrill, the chase, the quiet power of watching her, studying her, making her fall into his orbit.

He leaned in, brushing his knuckles over her wrist. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

She laughed, playing along. "Maybe in another life."

If only she knew how true that was.

By the time they got home, the tension had reached a breaking point. As soon as the door shut, he had her pressed against it, hands greedy, mouth claiming hers. She gasped against his lips, breath hitching as he lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom like he had that first night.

It was the same hunger, the same fevered need. As if no matter how many times he had her, it would never be enough.

When it was over, she lay sprawled across the sheets, her body limp in sleep. The moonlight cast soft shadows over her skin, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

Terry sat up, reaching for the nightstand. The leather-bound journal was exactly where he left it. He flipped to the next blank page, picking up his pen.

March 2nd. She played right into my hands. Just like before. She thinks it’s a game. She thinks it’s just for fun. But this is more than a game. It’s a perfect excuse.

A reason to keep watching her. Hunting her. Even inside our own home.

He reached for his Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of her sleeping form, capturing the way she belonged to him. Carefully, he pasted it into the journal, fingers tracing over the image.

A satisfied exhale left his lips as he clicked the book shut, tucking it back into its place. He slid down beside her, curling a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her close.

She murmured something in her sleep, nestling against him. Completely unaware.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

Even now, she doesn’t realise. And I’ll never let her.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @notapradagurl7 @theogbadbitch @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @wildcardmelaninfreak

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#ruewrites #terry richmond #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #dark!terry richmond #dark!terry richmond x black!reader

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churrobird · 2 days ago

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short mini-fic inspired by this post by @magnecalliope and tags by @femboyclownpierce

pangi enjoyers i dont know what inspired me to write this from pangi's POV because i dont really watch him outside of ros.... if i got his mannerisms wrong, im sorry

The tiled floor and wooden cabinets of the castle's kitchen were cold against Pangi's scales. The cold was really the only thing keeping him present, and a deep part of him despised it.

He dragged his eyes up from where he had been staring at a red stain (it wasn't blood, blood dried brown, but his heart thudded in his chest all the same) to look at Ros, desperately trying to ignore the red figure right behind her.

Pangi had found Ros in the kitchen, having tracked her down after noticing the absence of purple. She was leaning heavily against the counter, not quite falling over, with an open bottle of fruity wine in her hand. She wasn't absolutely wasted, not yet, but she was certainly on her way there.

She had looked at Pangi, her eyes wet, and asked him if she could complain to him.

Pangi was... trying, at this whole "being genuine friends with Ros" thing. It was hard, after Pili had burnt him so deeply; he didn't really remember how to be a friend.

But what he was good at was listening in on gossip, and if his love of messy chisme helped Ros get out all her woes, then no one could fault him for it.

And, Void, he knew Ros had issues, with all her violent and sacrificial tendencies and what he had heard Pili yell at her about her self-worth issues, but...

She went on, and on, and on. How she tried to make everyone happy, and how it never seemed to make her happy. Everything with Owen, which he had to shove down his old feelings of triumph about, which now felt sickening. Being Queen while Foolish was dead, and how Red and Green had hunted her every day, and how she didn't fault Pangi for it anymore, but it still scared her, even now.

It was when she finally started talking about Pili and everything he did, did Pangi ask for the half-empty bottle, and joined her in her drowning.

Halfway through whatever this was, with Pangi sobbing over his dead best friend who came back but didn't truly, and Ros sobbing over her twice-over murderer who made her angry and scared and confused, did Clown walk in.

It was an interesting experience, for Pangi's heart and soul, to be near-yelling about how Pili had died, and then for Pili's murderer to walk in the room.

All at once, he was slammed with this nauseous feeling of rage-terror-grief, spurred on by dulled memories of past lives and the haze of alcohol. For a moment, his mind screamed to just attack Clown right then and there, but the last remaining vestiges of his preservation instinct held him back.

That and... it would probably upset Ros. It was strange, how something like that mattered to him now.

Clown had just stared back at Pangi and, to his surprise, silently walked over to where Ros sat on the floor, and dropped down behind her, leaning against her back.

That's where they were now. With Ros still on a mad rant about Pili, and Pangi was trying to pay attention, trying to be a good friend, but it was getting harder and harder with a certain jester in the room.

Clown was entirely still. This alone set off every alarm bell in his head. A still, dead-silent Clown was a Clown that was planning to strike when you least expected it, and it nearly made Pangi ready his end crystals in his hotbar.

But the longer he sat here, the more he realized that wasn't all. Clown was still and silent, but he was relaxed. His posture loose, all of his weight supported against Ros. The archmage had an arm wrapped around the architect, something that normally would send the shocking fear of being grappled into anyone, but Ros had simply gotten hold of Clown's other arm, the grip being reciprocated.

For that matter, Ros was confusing too. Her hold on Clown tightened as she got more and more emotional in her ranting, until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into the dark fabric of Clown's sleeve, like Lifesteal's deadliest player was just her emotional support stressball.

He would've expected Clown to protest in any way, but the only acknowledgment the jester gave was a soft, mumbled hum and his head lolling against Ros' shoulder, and that's the moment Pangi finally realizes,

Wait, is he also wasted?

He really didn't expect Clown to lower his guard at an event like this enough to get drunk, even if it was hosted by Ros. He also didn't expect Clown to be okay with showing off this much softness in the presence of someone like Pangi. He knew Ros and Clown were friends, by Ros' own admission, but he didn't know...

(It reminds him of Pili, and his gut churns. Days and nights spent deep underground, laying against each other and the potion machine. The sound of turtle eggs hatching and the feeling of Pili's soft fur against his scales. Sometimes, only when he's just moments from sleep, he would feel a soft, wispy caress on his head, and he felt safe.) (He felt safe with his best friend by his side, and a dark specter keeping watch over them.) (He wonders how Ros feels about getting both in just one person.)

He reaches for the bottle between him and Ros again. There's smudged purple lipstick on the rim. He doesn't care, hasn't cared about anything since Pili died, and takes another swig.

#i should probably make a tag for my writing huh #churro chirps #<- that works for now. ill change it later if i feel like it #this mini-fic really got everything. implied pangili and rospierce. coinduo angst. lifesteal past lives references. tr!clown analysis kinda #there was supposed to be dialogue but i wrote this in 40 minutes right before class and dialogue wouldve taken longer #i love angst AND fluff. yippee!!!!!!#anyway thank you magnecalliope and femboyclownpierce for the banger fic ideas yesterday. im Normal.#honestly maybe ill properly write this from ros' perspective sometime. no promises tho.#btw this isnt beta read at all because of the aforementioned “i wrote it in 40 minutes before class”#so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes. no you didnt.

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cut-the-camera · 1 day ago

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Bojan Cvjetićanin with a Formula 1 Driver Boyfriend

Bojan x Male! F1 Driver! Reader

Request: can I request a Bojan (or Jure actually) from Joker Out fic where he has a boyfriend who's an F1 driver, I saw you wrote for both fandoms so I thought I'd compile them both lol. I really like your heartstopper work btw x

It almost undoubtedly started because you were a public Joker Out fan. Whether that was tweeting about them when they were on eurovision or being caught liking edits of them or posting a picture from their concert, being photographed in a Joker Out hat or hoodie people knew you liked Joker Out.

People always laughed about it and assumed that the two of you would never actually speak but...you did. Bojan direct messaged you not long after your public support for them and the two of you hit if off fairly quickly, choosing to keep your relations private for the sake of both of your careers and privacy

The two of you managed to keep it secret for a hell of a lot longer than you expected. The speculation started when you would like each others posts or comment on each others social medias

You get shipped together almost instantly with there being several fanfictions being written within hours of your first mention of each other and edits of you to Joker Out songs flooded tiktok. At first, it started as one of those joke ships with the vibe of, "haha wouldn't it be so funny if they were together, could never happen though"

Bojan then started being a little bit too obvious about it. Posting stories of him watching F1 on the tv, wearing random merch he found of whatever team you drive for, liking the F1 social media posts, suspiciously posting from the countries that you were in for races so if fans followed both of you, they got the idea pretty quickly.

You weren't much better, from still being caught in joker out merch, suspiciously being at festivals they were playing at, posting with the likes of Kaarija and Wild Youth, randomly following Slovenian travel accounts on instagram, and Joker Out being on your Spotify wrapped that year certainly didn't help things

People officially found out after a video started circulating of him at an F1 post race celebration party and everyone went mental on twitter for the next week trying to work out what the hell he was doing there (until a second angle of that video came out of the two of you drunkenly kissing in the corner of the room)

Coming out was rough for you if you hadn't already. F1 is a sport plagued by a section of fanbase of homophobic straight men that did not hold back when they found out about you and Bojan. You turned all your comment sections off (and so did Bojan for a while) while you worked out what to do about this. There were meetings about it, it made the news as these things often do, you got harassed at races and all the while an entirely new fanbase was born, the fanbase of your ship which by all accounts had now become "cannon"

You were fairly supported by the Joker Out fanbase which did serve as a slight comfort to you and so, of course, did Bojan. He with with you whenever he could be to help you through the media onslaught that you had to go through, he advised you about what to do when everything got too much, he stayed on the phone with you for hours if you two couldn't be together because of other commitments

You did quickly find out though that there is a large and mostly hidden section of the F1 fanbase that came out of the woodwork to support you. The gay side of the fanbase.

The lgbtq side of the F1 fanbase was very loud in their defence of you. Queer news publishers wrote articles about you, fans wrote to you in spades to give you praise and support and heartfelt messages and you suddenly found yourself the most popular driver among Gen Z.

You both end up being adored by the other persons fandom with an endless supply of fanfictions, fan art and social media posts. You feed those fandoms like mother birds with your own social media posts whether that's Bojan doing silly tiktok trends with you, you taking back stage pictures of joker out concerts or the two of you occasionally streaming together if that's something that you do.

Bojan comes to the races whenever he can, whenever he has a concert in that country or doesn't have any concerts or obligations at all (he did once come to a podium in full concert gear. Kiki has to remind him to take his mic off before he ran out of the building to come see you after a concert once)

He’s always ecstatic when you win, instantly pulling you into his arms, kissing all over your face, lifting you up and spinning you around or letting you lift him

He’s also equally as proud of you when you don’t do as well. Letting you talk him through all the things you think you could have done different (without being self deprecating as he very quickly shuts that down.) He comforts and consoles you if you’re especially disappointed with a race or if people are being especially harsh on you

He’ll take you off of social media, plan a date for you, cook you dinner, give you a massage, watch your favourite films, train with you, sing to you, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, anything to help you feel better when it’s particularly hard

He gets rather frustrated with the media. Seeing as he always says that he himself reads and takes in a lot of what people say about him online it would only make sense that he does that for you too. He reads articles about you, sees what people say on Twitter and on podcasts and even hears what people in the paddock or in the stands say about you (god help the audience if they ever decided to boo you like they did to Max) and it really upsets him. He often has to hold back from firing off endless responses to comments or turning and just having it out with whomever is shit talking you. You assure him that while you admire his protectiveness, you don’t need him to do any of that (but if you ever did want him to defend you, he would in a heartbeat about F1 or anything else, you’re his boy and no one messes with that)

He doesn't understand the rules at all, he just cheers and ‘whoops’ whenever he sees something that vaguely looks like your car whiz by (you've tried to explain the rules so many times but it's really not worth it)

He does try though bless him, he started researching everything he needs to to try and have conversations with you (you once found him watching a YouTube video on F1 with a notebook open.) He'll listen to you talk or rant about new cars, new FIA rules, other drivers, the press etc with big, wide eyes to make sure you know he's listening and he cares.

The two of you travel a lot with your races and his concerts so you two have a wild variety of experiences under your belts. Your camera roll is full of him eating various deserts in different countries, standing next to landmarks, jumping on stages, chilling on beaches etc. You do, however, always have to make sure you're careful where you choose to go on dates when you're travelling especially since a few of the places you race in are less than kind to LGBTQ people. The night before flights are often spent between you and Bojan showing each other articles or google searches about laws in whatever country you're travelling to or screenshots of them sent to you if he's not with you loving, 'be careful baby x' text messages

He's a connoisseur of edits of you. Every F1 driver has a signature edit song (AKA Smooth Operator) and he knows every lyric of yours no matter what language it's in (he even sings it sometimes to piss you off or if he's just been listening to it too much and it gets stuck in his head)

His camera roll is completely flooded with pictures of you. He has pictures of you in the gym, screenshots from media interviews, pictures of (what he thinks is) your car mid lap, pictures of your trophies, pictures of you in your race suit (which he thinks you look insanely hot in by the way. He blushes intensely whenever he can feel you looking at him even through the helmet, or when you take off the helmet and your hair just a little bit wet from sweating, or when you lift the visor and he can only see your eyes through the helmet or- yeah you get the idea.) For a very long time, his Lock Screen was a picture of you holding a trophy high in the air and whenever he looked at it he was reminded just how proud of you he is.

He often goes to the gym with you (sometimes to work out but mostly to watch you train.) He'll happily do whatever it takes to help you with certain exercises like holding pads for you to spar with him, throwing you tennis balls for reaction time etc (or sometimes he does whatever it takes to hinder you sometimes by sitting on your back during planks or, sitting under you during push ups for kisses or offering himself as a weight for deadlifts)

He really gets on with your paddock friends through seeing as he can speak nearly all of their languages to some extent. Obviously, he's closest with whoever you're closest with but overall I'd say he gets on best with Lando, Oscar or Daniel.

Jealousy is through the absolutely roof though and I can't even pretend it's not. The second he saw Charles he clenched his fists so hard his rings drew blood against his own palm.

"Who is THAT??"

"Oh that's Charles, he's my teammate/he drives for Ferrari,"

"is that so..."

There is absolutely no doubt that Joker Out released a song very specifically just after the two of you got together that was about jealousy and someone described to be suspiciously like Charles. (everyone knows what its about but it's an absolute banger so no one minds)

Similarly though, you end up jealous of a lot of the musicians he had inevitable chemistry with or gets shipped with so you're very much even in that respect.

He loves watching you before races, often finds himself staring at you and your concentration face (which he either finds incredibly cute or sexy depending on his mood)

He called you 'my champion' once and you cringed so hard you were nearly sick so he's taken to saying it all the time. In instagram captions, during dates, over the phone and once during sex which earned him a very swift slap (though that probably had the opposite effect than you were going for-)

He absolutely asks whether he can get a version of the Joker Out car either branded by whatever team you drive or promoted by you (though you and Jure were deeply disappointed when you were told you couldn't street race the Joker Out jeep)

He shits himself at every sign of danger for you. He didn't consider that what you did was anything more than running around a track until you got into a little scrape with another car. It was thankfully nothing serious for you but it completely changed the way he watched you work. Logically, there was probably always a part of him that knew you could be at risk but he didn't think about that until he was forced to and afterwards he thought about nothing else.

All of the research that he was doing didn't help either when he learned exactly how fast those cars go and how many accidents there've been in motorsports history. He started being, for lack of a better term, hysterical about it, kissing you hundreds of times for "luck," hugging you like you're going to war before races, constant 'be careful's and 'is that safe's, flinching 900 times during races and just generally not helping his anxiety. You ended up having to sit with him and explain all the ways and rules that mean F1 is as safe as it's ever been and that statistically you're going to be alright.

That mostly worked and he was able to watch you again without feeling like he was going to faint every five seconds. If ever you did crash though...oh boy. Several medics and security marshals may have been sworn at in Slovenian when they wouldn't let him near your car. (it's even worse if he coukdnt be there that day for whatever reason and he had to watch the crash on TV with painful replays or have Nace show him a cold, faceless breaking news story with nothing but a picture of your car on fire and a screaming headline)

He sits with you in the hospital if it's that bad and never leaves your side until he's forced to. He holds you hand and begs you never to do this to him again even though he knows it's never really your fault. He even starts whispering prayers in Slovenian (and probably a few in Serbian and English for good measure)

You beg him to sing for you to cheer you up so he ends up making up little songs about how much he loves you and how much he wants you to get better and how much he hates you for scaring him like that

If you require anything else after the crash he's always there for you whether it's just a decent meal and a few kisses or if it's something more serious like changing wound dressings or helping with physiotherapy. In return you dote on him in the eventuality he gets sick with his pitiful immune system.

You try to go to as many of his concerts as you can, supporting him from backstage so you don't get swarmed by fans in the audience. Occasionally you come on stage if Bojan asks you to or if a fan has a sign or gift specifically for you but you prefer to sit back and watch him shine as he does for you.

I imagine you get on well with the other members of the band. You and Jan discuss vintage cars, you bring Nace and Jan old F1 or racing jackets, Jure keeps trying to bribe you to let him drive your car, you play F1 simulator with them all and they all get way too competitive and they all tell you how much Bojan talks about you when you're not around.

Along with the less than favourable song about Charles, Joker Out released several songs that, for lack of a better way of putting it, show exactly how horny Bojan is for you. (and then the two of you get some banging edits made of you with those songs)

You accompany him to any award shows, premieres or events that he's invited to, cheering and taking pictures of him holding awards like a proud mother and he happily dresses up for any MET Galas or Start of season event that you find yourself invited to. (fans absolutely DEVOUR pictures of the two of you on red carpets together)

It's fairly easy for you to move to Slovenia with him though you'd likely still have a base in somewhere more convenient. The two of you move just outside of the city, somewhere beautiful in rural Slovenia where you raise your children in a home full of love and music and lots of toy cars.

Your kids are complete nepo babies but everyone's okay with that

When you both settle down and start a family Joker Out likely doesn't tour as much and you likely either retire or end up more of a mentor or team principal role for the next generation of drivers

There was inevitably, a massive argument between you and Bojan about your kids wanting to get into Karting (he did eventually relent and allow the kids to have lessons if they wanted them but you both had to be there to supervise)

If you are still a driver by then then Bojan often brings your kids to the paddock or the grand stands so they can 'wave at daddy'

You tried your best to teach the kids without letting Bojan's anxiety make them nervous too and you decided that the only way to get around that was to have him learn with them to see that it's actually not so bad.

This was, in fact, the hardest thing you had ever had to do in your career and you often joke that you deserved a trophy for it. He started off by jokingly asking whether you could put stabilisers on it in a way that felt less than joking, accidentally swearing in front of your children half way round the track and constantly slamming on the breaks but he left the whole experience ...absolutely loving it and deciding that he wanted to race YOU around the track. You can decide whether or not you let him win or completely destroy him in that endeavour.

In return he's determind to teach you to play guitar or piano or trumpet or one of the many instruments that he has under his belt. (which he also would say is the hardest thing he's ever had to do in his career)

You became an advocate within the F1 community and an inspiration to LGBTQ fans everywhere and there is absolutely no doubt that the two of you consider yourself each other's biggest fan.

AN: Thank you so much to the person that requested this! I absolutely adore my Joker Out requests so this one was so much fun! I hope it's okay!!! I may do a Jure one of these in the near future if that's something that people would want :)

REQUESTS

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jo-harrington · 1 day ago

Text

Luminous Beings - Episode 4: Order 66

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: The Dragonborn is plagued with tension and uncertainty as Thalia's secrets finally come to light.

Word Count: 9.8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Fluff, Budding Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, and Death, Miscommunication, Distrust, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Galactic Politics, Criticism of Government and Authority, Criticism of the Jedi, Betrayal, Depictions of Order 66 and the Jedi Purge

Note: This chapter made me nervous, I'm not gonna lie. There have been so many depictions of Order 66 in so much Star Wars media but when you fold such a huge canon event into a fic like this...UGH. I truly hope I did it justice. Thanks to @courtingchaos for giving me a second look at that little snippet and giving me some extra courage, I feel so much better. And yes, if I ever decide to write Thalia's story, I will be pulling a Dave Filoni and writing it again.

Thanks again to everyone for reading.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Hyperspace, 10BBY

The atmosphere in the Dragonborn was tense.

No one said a word once they'd gotten off Outpost 86 and jumped to lightspeed.

None of them knew what to say, least of all Eddie.

They'd all witnessed what happened—the Guavians had too—and Eddie knew that he should have said something to his crew at least. He knew he should have gone and said something to Thalia. But as soon as the boarding ramp was shut, he had stomped up to the bridge, barking orders to his friends to get to their stations so they could get the hell out of there.

Now, safe and sound, Eddie’s mind began to race as quickly as the streaks of stars and nebulae that soared past them. He kept flipping switches and turning knobs to keep himself from facing the inevitable. To keep himself from facing the truth.

Thalia saved his life.

Yeah, that was one thing.

And she was a Jedi.

That was the other.

He was almost hesitant to think those words, but once he did, all of the pieces seemed to fall into place. All of the odd things about Thalia that he noticed suddenly made sense. The feeling of calmness that surrounded her, the connection he felt with her.

Did that mean she had read his thoughts? Or manipulated him in some way?

No, that wasn't it. Was it?

He would've known. Wouldn't he?

However, those realizations, those answers, seemed to raise new questions.

Because...she wasn't really a Jedi, was she? She was around his age, if looks were anything to go by; she must've been a Padawan at the time of the Clone Wars. He remembered seeing the names and faces of Padawans on the Holonet, wanted by the newly-formed Empire, and how horrified he'd been when he realized the implication that they'd be hunted down too.

She couldn't have been accomplice to any sort of treason against the Republic then. But there was suddenly no wonder why she had a negative opinion about the Empire now.

If she was a Jedi Padawan, that is.

And if she wasn't?

He'd been around the galaxy a few times. He'd heard whispers of Force-users in hiding, ones who weren't Jedi. They'd been hunted down by the Empire, too. Maybe she was one of them?

He'd never know unless he asked.

He rose from his seat and ordered G'areth and Dayv to keep an eye on things. Then he made his way down to the medbay.

Thalia, of course, wasn't alone when he got there. While he’d rushed off to the Bridge, Jeff had gone to tend to his blaster wound.

Admittedly, the guys didn't know much in the way of medicine. Bacta, stimpacks, and synthskin bandages. That was what they had, what they felt comfortable using. Anything requiring more than that, they could go planetside and seek medical attention.

That was the extent of healing that Eddie expected Jeff, who was a notorious crybaby when he was hurt or sick, to receive. But there was something to be said about having someone take care of you, instead of injecting yourself with a hypo-syringe.

Eddie leaned against the entrance to the medbay and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched D5-TN pass kolto patches for Thalia to apply to Jeff's injured leg. All while Jeff softly, but animatedly, told a story that Eddie—and Dustin, for that matter—had heard a thousand times.

"...and then I said to him, 'Strono, I know I just made you the best cup of Caf you've ever had, but you cannot propose to me. You can have the recipe though.'"

Thalia snickered at the tale Jeff spun, but kept working.

Even from a few yards away, Eddie could feel the calming energy emanating off of her, which caused the bitterness to rise within in him.

The story telling continued, along with hums and beeps and the ambient roar of hyperspace, until Thalia announced, "Alright, you're set." She clapped her hands together as Jeff swung his legs off the bed. "How does it feel?"

"Good as new," he grinned, attempting to jump to his feet, only to falter and nearly fall. She grabbed him as he gripped the edge of the bed tightly, and they worked together to haul him back upright. "Ok, maybe not as good as new, but close enough."

"To be fair," Eddie piped up, startling Jeff and D5-TN but somehow not Thalia. "You weren't in that great a shape to begin with. I've put you in the crosshairs enough times."

Then, for some reason, Jeff turned his attention to Thalia when he said, "Ed gets us into all sorts of trouble, but we've all made mistakes. Ask G'ar about the time he broke his wrist."

"I'm the reason G'ar broke his wrist," Eddie insisted.

"You tell yourself that, captain," Jeff scoffed. "Hey Dusty, you mind helping me up to the bridge?"

D5-TN whistled and honked; he teased about running Jeff over if he fell, which earned a deadpan laugh from Jeff.

Before long, though, they were gone.

And then Eddie and Thalia were finally alone.

The medbay hadn't ever really felt like a sterile place of healing, but it had come a long way since Eddie and his friends had taken their first excursion across the galaxy. If Thalia complained about having kolto over bacta now, she would've had a conniption back then. They barely even had a bandage and a bed to their name.

But now the small medbay had taken up a new purpose since she'd been onboard. It had only been a few days, and she didn't have much by way of luggage or belongings, but the room held the same energy she did.

A cot was set up in the corner, one she insisted on instead of the medibed, and a few changes of clothes set out atop a nearby cabinet. A datapad, a small commlink that he didn't realize she carried, and a handful of credits that, even from a distance he could tell, were a mix of old republic dataries and new imperial ingots.

The pack she'd brought with her to the Outpost lay on the floor by her cot, slumped and misshapen; with everything that was strewn about the medbay, Eddie wondered what might still be inside.

"Is that why you don't carry a blaster?" he asked once he finally found his voice. "Because you have a lightsaber?"

"No." She shook her head.

"So you don't have a lightsaber?"

She paused as she cleaned up the supplies she used for Jeff, then glanced up at him. She inhaled slowly. Pensively.

"Now you're just putting words into my mouth."

Any joy or excitement that the child that still lived inside Eddie might've felt at the prospect of there being a real lightsaber aboard his ship was immediately extinguished when he began to demand answers from her.

"Why didn't you just tell me? Us," Eddie questioned desperately. "We're outlaws too. Criminals. It's not like we'd have delivered you to some imperial labor camp on a silver platter."

"Ignoring how...absolutely idiotic you sound to even suggest that," Thalia began with a scoff. "Say I did trust you not to sell me out; how would that conversation have gone? 'Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm in need of your services and, oh, by the way I can use the force and need to hide it from the empire?'"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then how would you have liked to find out a secret that countless beings need to keep in the name of self preservation? Because I think saving your life is a pretty appropriate method. You're welcome, by the way."

He took an involuntary step back at the venom in her words, but recovered quickly.

"Thank you," he said softly, then pivoted back to the original topic. "I don't know another way that wouldn't have made me question everything, but some kind of indication that I was working with a fugitive Jedi would've—"

Thalia immediately squared her shoulders and crossed the distance so she could press a finger into his chest.

"I want to make one thing clear," she said, practically through gritted teeth. At this distance, her eyes even looked glassy with unshed tears, and Eddie felt his stomach drop, knowing that he was the one who caused them, in one way or another. "I am no Jedi."

Wait.

"What do you mean, you aren't a Jedi?" Eddie scoffed. "Of course you are. You just said you had a lightsaber...and you saved my life...and there's that feeling of—"

"There you go again, Moonsun," she said, voice more lighthearted than it had just been, as she poked fun at him. And she quite literally poked him again, prodding the same place that she'd jabbed him to get her point across just moments ago. "Putting words in my mouth. I didn't say I had a lightsaber. And I didn't say that I didn't have one."

"Do you have a lightsaber?"

"Not with me." Eddie clapped his hands together and just about shoved his finger in her face in triumphant mockery, but she continued. "But that doesn't mean I am a Jedi. And I have never been one either. I know...in the lift, you said that you'd always dreamed of becoming a Jedi...and I'll admit I had that dream fed to me once...but I don't understand how anyone would have dreamed of that life.

"The Jedi were the heroes of the galaxy...and I'm no hero." She held her hands out in front of her and then clenched them into fists. She looked back into his eyes. "But I'll do what I must to keep people safe, Eddie. To keep people alive."

If Eddie had been demanding answers from Thalia in the medbay the night before, his friends were absolutely relentless come morning. It seemed like the chance to let their thoughts and feelings simmer meant that they didn't carry the same chip on their shoulders as he did; they'd not only had time to process what they'd witnessed on Outpost 86, but also what Eddie had told him when he'd returned from confronting Thalia.

To be fair, after they'd parted ways, Eddie also cooled down and cleared his thoughts.

And Thalia answered their questions good-naturedly, as she had before. As if they were still asking about simple things, how the weather was on Dantooine, instead of questioning the workings of the force.

"Can you float things?"

"Sometimes."

"And can you read minds? What color am I thinking of right now?"

"Blue."

"Woah."

"But that's because you're staring at my hair, Dayv."

"Oh, kriff, you're right."

"Have you ever met Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Even Eddie looked up from his bowl of oats at Jeff's question.

Thalia was frozen in her seat, spoon just inches away from her mouth; her eyes darted around the table to each of the guys as they stared expectantly back at her.

"Eddie has a great impression of General Kenobi," Jeff added, as if the context would help. Thalia's eyes drifted to Eddie and she lifted a single brow in question. "Uh...well...he used to. When we were kids."

"I probably do a better impression of the Emperor now, to be fair," Eddie snickered and ducked his head back down to his breakfast. Still, curiously, he glanced up at her through his bangs. "So...did you ever meet him?"

"I'm..." she put down her spoon and ran a hand through her hair nervously. "No. I didn't."

The questions became more rapid fire after that, especially from Eddie as he picked up where they'd left off before.

"Who did you meet?"

"What did you do?"

"If you weren't really a Jedi, did you live in the temple?"

"If you weren't really a Jedi, how do you have a lightsaber?"

"What really happened when the Jedi betrayed the Republic?"

That seemed to be where the line was drawn for Thalia though, because she slammed her cup of blue milk on the table. She sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

The galley went silent, save for the shameful coughs and scraping of utensils along the bottoms of bowls. None of them were brave enough to meet her scathing gaze, especially not G'areth, who'd uttered the fated question in the first place.

D5-TN, who'd been sitting at his charging station in the corner of the little galley, was the first to pipe up. His blunt binary beeps questioned why Thalia looked about ready to murder when the Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers. That immediately cooled her down.

"Supposed to be, is the key phrase there, Dustin." She let out a dry laugh. "Everyone is supposed to be one thing, and then they turn out to be something else. I'm the living proof of that. I'm supposed to be hiring you guys to haul something to Coruscant for me."

"Does that mean we can dump that container right into hyperspace?" Dayv chuckled.

"Does that mean we're not getting paid?" Eddie added, much more seriously.

"The Jedi were supposed to be peacekeepers,” she continued, ignoring their questions. "Not soldiers for the Republic. But that's exactly what they became, little by little. The Clone Wars were a catalyst for the downfall of the Order, but it had been a long time coming. Hundreds of years, not just over the past few decades. And this wasn't the first time in their history, either."

She got a faraway look in her eyes, and a bitterness in her voice.

"What made a good Jedi was that you could be a good soldier. That's how younglings were chosen as Padawans, even before the Clone Wars. Even before the possibility of war was on the galaxy's doorstep. And I wasn't fit for being anyone's soldier."

"So you weren't chosen?" Eddie asked. "And then you...what'd you say? You worked at a diner on Coruscant?"

"No." Thalia's brow furrowed. "No, that...came after. If someone didn't pass the Initiate Trials or they didn't get chosen as a Padawan, most of the time they got foisted off into the Service Corps to keep them useful. Education Corps...Medical Corps—"

"Well, we know you're not Medical Corps," Jeff interjected and then patted his leg. "You did a better job than any of us could've but, uh, if that was your job, I would be concerned."

The mood in the room lightened as everyone laughed and returned to their meal.

"No," Thalia continued serenely. "I was in the Exploration Corps. We would travel across the galaxy, scouting and surveying planets. Transporting Knights and Masters to different temples."

"So you've always been a sort of flight attendant," Dayv noted, along with D5-TN whistling his own question about what in-flight snacks were served aboard Jedi Order transports.

"You know," she snorted, "now that you mention it, I guess this was my destiny after all.” It got a laugh out of everyone. “I was assigned as an assistant to the researchers looking into ancient secrets of the Force. I'd always been interested in the history of the Jedi...in the deeper meanings in the ways of the Force. That's why I was shocked that you'd gone on a trip to Moraband. It's a forbidden planet."

"Forbidden?" Eddie smirked and leaned back in his seat. "Sweetheart, nothing is forbidden when there are credits to be had. Moraband is an untouched goldmine."

"It's full of tombs," she argued. "Corruption. Relics connected to the Dark Side of the Force. Even now, the Empire forbids travel there."

"Some senators love their tchotchkes." Eddie shrugged. "They buy, we'll fly."

"It's the ancient Sith homeworld, flyboy."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Thalia let out a noise of frustration before pointedly turning in her seat so she faced the others more than she faced Eddie.

"Anyway, shortly before...before the fall of the Republic, I got partnered with a Jedi Master named Eno Cordova, who'd been researching ancient force-sensitive civilizations. It wasn't much in the way of travel, so, yes, I still lived in the Jedi Temple to access the archives."

"And your lightsaber?" Jeff scooted closer in his chair. Everyone leaned a little closer, even D5-TN, who rolled off his charging station so he could join the others.

"Was the one that I built as a youngling, ahead of the Initiate Trials," Thalia explained. "It's back on Coruscant. Someplace safe."

"Wait a minute," Eddie butt in again. "Hang on. You're a former Jedi whatever, with a functioning lightsaber, who's in hiding from being hunted down by the Empire...and you live on the Capitol? Right under the Emperor's nose?"

The others made noises in agreement and concern.

"Hidden in plain sight," she offered as an excuse, along with a shrug. "It always made the most sense."

She got a faraway look in her eye then, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"The Empire..." She squinted her eyes a little in thought. "They might be looking for whoever they can to make an example of now. But back then? After…” She trailed off for a moment. “Well, they weren't interested in someone like me."

Before the others could ask anything else, she excused herself from the table and practically ran out of the galley.

"You know there's nowhere you can hide that I won't find you. This is my ship."

"I could try."

"Well, you happened to pick the one place in the ship where I go to practice the guitar alone," Eddie explained. "So you didn't try very hard."

The escape pod was small, and if Eddie was honest, it probably wouldn't do much in the event of an emergency. It's why they weren't too concerned with blocking it with their cargo. He'd had D5-TN run diagnostics on the life support systems and controls many times, to no avail. And they'd always been so eager to move onto the next job or planet that there hadn't really been time to test it in the safety of a spaceport.

But it was a small little space, away from the rest of the ship, where you could be alone. And they'd all taken advantage of that more than any of them cared to admit.

G'areth had even come to have a little personal time once, back in the early days. That's when the "no jerkin' it in the escape pod" rule was enacted.

It was astounding how quickly Thalia had acclimated to the habits of everyone on the ship, though, if she was here. Either that, or she'd scraped the idea of it from one of their heads with her Force abilities.

"It doesn't work like that," Thalia spoke, as though he'd said the last part aloud, earning a skeptical look from Eddie as he sat on the small seat across from her. "You were projecting that one, Nerfhead."

"Hey," Eddie scoffed. "Bantha brains? Yes. But nerfhead? Absolutely not."

He grinned at the little laugh she let out.

He waited for her to talk, to say anything; usually, he'd be the first one to pry, especially when that thousand-parsec stare that she currently had, appeared on one of his friends faces. He took a different approach this time, though. More along the lines of something his uncle Wane would do when he was lost in his thoughts or his worries.

Usually, for him, it had something to do with his dad.

For Thalia, though, it seemed like the Jedi were the sore spot that sent her into a deep spiral of thoughts.

They sat silently for a moment before Eddie hoisted his guitar onto his lap and began playing a soft trill of notes. A lullaby Wane used to play for him when he was little, right after his mom died and his dad ran the first time, so he could sleep without nightmares.

He closed his eyes as plucked at the strings. He let the sound flow through him, resonate with the space around him. One note after another, time passed slowly but surely, and suddenly Thalia was humming along with the slow melody.

He opened one eye and glanced at her as she watched his fingers move, humming in anticipation of each note to come.

"Do you know this song?" he asked softly as he continued playing.

She made a non-commital noise in response and then shook her head. "I'm not very musically inclined either. Don't ask me to sing. But...there are echoes...in the force. Usually they're tied to objects. Sometimes they're tied to people. Your music amplifies your ties to the living force. It's hard to resist."

Eddie wasn't sure what most of that meant, but knew that he wouldn't try to cheapen it by making a joke about how irresistible he was.

Instead, he said, "That must mean I am a pretty good musician, if the force likes my playing."

She cracked a small smile, but stayed silent as he continued strumming.

"Do you want to know why I find it hard to trust people?" she asked, unexpectedly, after a beat. Eddie was about to answer, but she added, "I would've told you. Eventually. But...do you want to know why I couldn't, at first?"

"Because I don't seem the trustworthy type?"

"Because I've been betrayed by people I thought I could trust before." She looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "Because even I've betrayed people who've trusted me before."

"Well, I'm not a snitch. None of us are. My friends have kept quiet about worse things than someone being a Jedi before."

"I told you, I'm not a Jedi."

He ignored her, and instead chose to joke with her. "So who did you betray? Do I have to worry about you giving us up to the Empire, instead of the other way around?"

There was a sadness in her eyes when she looked up at him.

"G'areth asked what really happened," she stated, "when the Jedi betrayed the Republic. The Jedi failed the Republic, and were betrayed in return. Which only led to more pain, more betrayal."

"That's cryptic," Eddie whispered. He winced and stopped playing, setting the guitar aside. "Sorry, that was insensitive of me."

"It's ok," Thalia assured him.

She offered her hand out to him, palm flat and facing upwards.

He thought it was just a gesture of peace, so he placed his hand in hers.

And suddenly Eddie wasn't on the Dragonborn anymore.

He was in a library, surrounded by rows upon rows of shelves containing glowing holobooks. Thousands of them.

The last time he'd seen a library of this size...well, he couldn't recall. The Academy on Bracca had a small library, and he had always liked to read, especially when he was younger and looking for escape from his mundane life. But anything he wanted, he could load onto his datapad from the holonet. There was no need for holobooks and no real space for them in his and Wane's flat.

Whoever had amassed this collection must've been very interested in knowledge. Or power.

But how did he get here?

He spotted movement in the corner of his eye, the flash of a shoulder disappearing down one of the aisles.

"Excuse me," he called out. "Could you help me? I think I'm lost."

He tried to take a step forward, but through his body, another body emerged. As though he was made of mist. A phantom.

The figure, decidedly human, took a few steps forward and then stopped and looked back at him.

His heart stopped.

It was Thalia, but younger. Much less worry on her face, lips upturned into a gentle smile.

Her hair wasn't blue, instead an unremarkable, muddy brown and it was longer, pulled into a thick braid that fell over her shoulder. She wasn't dressed in the travel attire he'd gotten used to seeing her in, or the traditional robes that would immediately bring a Jedi to mind. She wore something that was a marriage of the two—a tunic with an unfamiliar emblem emblazoned on the breast, and fitted utility trousers tucked into boots.

"Come on," she nodded her head in the direction she'd been headed. "Keep up."

"Wh-where are we going?" he demanded, but followed nonetheless.

Suddenly, there were more figures around. Jedi Knights and Padawans, he realized as he saw the lightsabers attached to their belts. Thalia had a lightsaber on her belt too.

They weaved in and out of the aisles, sitting at the tables in the middle of the room. The library, which had previously been silent, was suddenly consumed with ambient sounds of whispered conversations alongside the beeping and whistling of droids whirring around.

Was he...was this the Jedi Temple? On Coruscant? It had to be.

He was filled with that deeply-buried giddiness that he'd been trying to hold down since the truth about Thalia came out.

He was in the Jedi Temple. This was the place where the heroes of his adolescence walked and slept and ate and lived. Being able to witness inside the temple walls was everything he’d ever dreamed of.

He couldn't wait to tell the guys about this.

He tried to take it all in, but was quickly disappointed when the details, the faces, were all blurry. Unfocused and unimportant here.

In this memory, he realized.

Since exploring on his own was futile, he caught up with the younger Thalia, who spoke with an elderly woman in a set of decorated brown robes.

Their conversation meant nothing to Eddie, really, but he tried to keep up with unfamiliar names, places, and titles of books. Zeffo, and The Tales of Light and Life, and something about Master Cordova. Hadn't that been the Jedi that Thalia said she'd been assisting? Did this all have to do with him?

The older woman seemed to get irritated by the end of the interaction, though, as a tight tight smile stretched across her wrinkled face. She still kept her voice peaceful as she offered, "Perhaps if Master Cordova needs all of this information, he could be bothered to return to Coruscant himself, but I'll see what I can do, Miss Trieste."

"Thank you, Master Nu." Thalia bowed respectfully and then turned and continued on her way. Eddie figured that he was undetectable, but he also felt the urge to clumsily bow to Master Nu before he followed after Thalia.

They walked out of the library and out into a wide atrium with marble walls that stretched upwards for hundreds of feet to a domed glass ceiling.

"What did I say about keeping up?" Thalia questioned impatiently a few feet ahead of him.

"Excuse me for wanting to get a good look at things," Eddie scoffed, but closed the distance.

"You'll see more soon enough," she insisted. "We just need to get there first."

They walked through endless halls and down winding staircases. Eddie noted how Thalia would nod and greet certain Jedi respectfully, and how most of them ignored her outright. Only a handful had stopped for a word of greeting, most of them as young as she was—Padawans she must have trained with as a youngling.

"Why don't the others say anything back to you?" he asked.

"Because I'm nobody," she explained. "At least, it felt that way."

"But—"

"W-will you shut up?"

As the words spilled from her lips, a feeling descended upon Eddie, like an inescapable wave from an endlessly deep ocean. A rumble of building anticipation, like boots stomping in tandem, and then a sudden crash of emotion that nearly brought him to his knees.

Pain, fear, panic, despair.

Death.

An explosion as bright as a thousand supernova, then nothing, as uf it was snuffed out in an instant.

Ripples of catastrophic energy hit him again and again. Suddenly the vastness of the Jedi Temple that he had been in awe of began closing in on him as this world attacked him.

Then came the blaster fire.

Thalia seemed to have quick reflexes, and she was able to duck behind a pillar as that first bolt was released from the blaster of an approaching clone. But others weren't so lucky. Eddie, in his incorporeal form and frozen with the assault of his senses, remained in the middle of the hall.

He witnessed the relentless approach of the clones from an intersecting hallway, the flurry of sizzling blaster bolts, and the ignition of at least a dozen lightsabers as their owners quickly sought to defend the onslaught.

It didn't help though, and bodies fell quicker than Eddie could really keep up with. One mis-timed slash of a lightsaber, and suddenly a new wave of pain shot through him. One blaster bolt deflected, ricocheting off a wall, and found its way into the poorly protected neck of a clone trooper, and he was assaulted by another wave.

Screams and cries echoed around him, not just from Thalia or the surrounding Jedi...but from all directions. Every hallway, every corner of the temple.

Every corner of the galaxy.

It was a barrage of the mind. Of the soul.

And Eddie realized that he wasn't simply confronted by his own emotions, his own fear and despair, over witnessing all of this, but also those of beings surrounding him.

His eyes finally shifted from the massacre, to Thalia who was also frozen in fear as she cowered behind that pillar.

No. He wasn't the one being hit with those emotions.

Thalia was.

He only felt it because he was here in her memories.

Blaster fire, clones, and an attack on the Jedi Temple. He had a memory of this night as well, the horror he felt at the news. But his memory of this existed in the safety of his datapad screen. Thalia had lived this firsthand.

She had to survive.

He finally found the courage within him to move. He took several steps towards her and knelt down to her level to offer a hand.

"Come on," he urged. "Let's go."

She ignored him. Looked past him.

"I said let's go."

Her eyes followed every blaster bolt that passed until they slowed, and then stopped.

Eddie could feel the barrage of emotion start to lessen as Thalia took deep breaths and waited. After a few beats of silence and stillness, coldness was all that remained. Emptiness.

And an echo of fear.

"There is no fear," she whispered to herself. Or maybe to Eddie, as her eyes finally focused on him. "There is only peace."

"Well, I'm plenty scared," he whispered back to her.

She hoisted herself to her feet and slowly stepped back into the center of the hallway. She tip-toed over the bodies where Eddie just walked atop them. Through them. She didn't have the luxury of being a ghost here; this was real to her.

Thalia's booted feet toed at lightsaber hilts that fell from limp hands, and she paused in consideration, before she reached the first clone that had fallen in the hallway. She knelt down and pried the blaster from its hands.

"I thought you didn't like blasters," he commented.

She took another deep breath and began, lip quivering. "The force is everywhere. It binds us. Surrounds us. If we focus on it, it can help us find the answers we seek."

She pointed the blaster at him, through him, down the way the clones had arrived. "There are more of them down there." Eddie turned his head and then looked back at her.

"It doesn't take a Jedi to figure that out," he deadpanned, but she ignored him. Then she turned and pointed in the direction they came.

"They're also that way," she explained. "I can feel them. Can you?"

"I don't know, I'm not—" He stopped short as there was the slightest tickle in his mind. Outside of the cold emptiness, he felt the looming presence of danger. The despair, the pain that had assaulted him earlier. Not just the individual feeling of the clones themselves as they attacked, but the carnage they left in their wake.

Yes, if he and Thalia doubled back the way they came, towards the library, they'd encounter clones. But not as many as they would if they soldiered ahead.

"Lead the way, then." He gestured forward to young Thalia, and then followed her as she began to navigate through the sea of corpses. "Why don't you use your lightsaber?"

"I'm out of practice," she explained. "Members of the Service Corps still wear them, but they're more for show. I'm not a soldier, remember?"

"But you'll fire a blaster."

She ignored him again and kept creeping further down the hall. Until she came to a crossroads where several living Jedi ran past, scrambling for their weapons as they fled. Or maybe ran towards the attacking clones to try and defend...

Their home.

"Was this your home?" he asked Thalia.

"That's a stupid question." There was obvious annoyance in the way she flicked her braid over her shoulder and held her blaster at attention.

"There are no such things as stupid questions."

"Just stupid people." It felt like an insult. It was probably meant to be one. "Don't try to distract me."

They kept walking, confidently. Thalia was able to take out a few clone troopers as she came across them, but she had been right. She wasn't a soldier. She was sloppy with her aim, but she was quick to anticipate their movements.

"Why don't you use the force?" he asked as she ducked behind another pillar.

"It doesn't work that way!" She shouted at him.

The momentary distraction led to a blaster bolt hitting the pillar, close to her head, and she fell to the ground as it exploded in with shards of marble and dust.

Eddie felt as disoriented as she was, heard the ringing in his ears that she must've heard. But when it cleared and she sat up, she was immediately alert and attentive.

Especially when she spotted the two figures dispatching of the troopers that had taken the shots.

"Steev! R'sshekh!" Thalia shouted and scrambled to her feet once the coast was clear. They both turned towards her—a young human man and a trandoshan, both with disheveled robes and lightsabers drawn—and started in her direction.

She pivoted, blaster in hand to make sure the coast was clear, before she ran to join them. The human padawan deactivated his saber and pulled Thalia into a relieved hug.

"You're alive," he said, words muffled by the shoulder of her tunic. "They...the clones...they're killing everyone."

"I know, Steev. I saw Master Pace try to seal off the East Wing. There was only so much blaster fire he could deflect."

R'sshekh said something in Dosh, unintelligible to Eddie, but Thalia and Steev seemed to understand. They parted from one another.

"You're right," Steev nodded. "We need to get to the hangar. Get a ship, go to the senate."

"Are you crazy?" Thalia practically screeched. "I'm sure they'll have the hangar guarded. And the senate? The clones aren't acting alone; someone ordered them to attack. We need to get out of the temple as quickly as we can."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Steev asked impatiently, hands falling to his hips.

R'sshekh spoke again, but Thalia talked over him.

"The service ducts," she said. "The ones we used to explore. If we find the right one, it'll spit us out into The Works."

Steev wrinkled his nose in disgust and scoffed. "Those dusty old tunnels are full of the rotting husks of ancient droids. I'm not going down there again."

"Then do you want to take your chances trying to go out the main entrance?" Thalia asked, voice laden with sarcasm, as she gestured down an adjacent hallway. "I'm sure the coast is clear."

Steev and R'sshekh glanced at each other and then gestured for Thalia to lead them onwards. She looked past them at Eddie and then tilted her head to get him to follow as well.

As if he even could wander off on his own.

The journey was a blur. More winding hallways and stairs, more troopers firing, but Thalia could trust one of her companions to defend her. Especially that Steev kid, who'd jump to her aid and then scold her for being reckless.

At one point, Eddie skipped ahead and tried to whisper in her ear, "Is he your boyfriend?"

"Jedi aren't allowed to form attachments," she snapped at him defensively, then paused. "But yes, he was my friend. And R'sshekh. We were all from the same crèche."

"Well, Steev kind of seems like a jerk."

Thalia looked over her shoulder at Steev, and then sighed. "Yeah. He was."

Eddie noticed her use of the past tense, and he felt a pit open up in his gut.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No!"

"We've been walking forever."

"The kid has a point," Eddie piped up from the back of the group, earning a scathing glare from young Thalia. "We have been walking forever."

R'sshekh seemed to agree with Eddie and Steev as well, if their intonation was any indicator, and Eddie gestured at the Trandoshan in an "I told you so."

"Thank you, Thalia, for getting us to safety," Thalia said, deepening her voice to match the timber of...well, truly any of them. "Thank you for having the good sense not to follow us blindly as we got ourselves killed." She made a crude hand gesture to them all to punctuate her point and then kept going.

Eddie had lost all sense of direction by this point. Up, down, left, right. They were in a hallway that didn't seem like a hallway anymore. He wasn't even sure they were even in the Jedi Temple, but the distant sound of blaster fire and the ignition of lightsabers assured him that, yes, they were.

The three older teens had picked up some stragglers along their stealthy escape from the temple. Another padawan with a wounded shoulder, her arm now stabilized and tied to her torso with a ripped piece of Steev's robe. They’d also found two younglings cowering behind a pile of twisted trooper bodies. R'sshekh took to holding each of the small children's hands as they continued on their way.

Eddie felt aware of every step he took, felt each of their weariness and the sting of any injuries, because Thalia felt them.

And when fear suddenly gripped her, he felt it too.

"Go on ahead," she told the others as she stopped in her tracks. "The old tunnels start up ahead. And then we keep going until we hit the pipeworks. We can take a break there."

All the kids groaned but kept going.

Until it was just Thalia and Eddie.

"You wanna show me something?" he questioned.

"Not specifically," she responded with a sigh. "But I had noticed something then...so you need to see it, too, now."

She waved him over and revealed the vent she had hidden behind her. It was a small grate, big enough for one of the younglings to crawl through maybe, if that was the reason she noticed it. But as he got closer, he saw that it overlooked, what he believed to be, the vast Great Hall of the Jedi temple.

He couldn't even enjoy the majesty of it—the towering statues or aurebesh carvings that lined the ancient walls, or the way that the rising sun streamed in and made the marble pillars sparkle—because it was full of the dead. Jedi and Clones alike. And there was a whole legion of clone troopers spread throughout the hall, armed and ready for any living Jedi to be taken care of as they attempted to escaoe.

"Turns out these tunnels weren't such a bad idea, after all," Eddie stated lightly.

"Watch," Thalia hissed.

Two cloaked figures strode through the hall then, from the far threshold that led into the depths of the temple, back towards the steps that led out to Coruscant.

A cloud of darkness seemed to follow them, as dark as the cloaks that they wore. Eddie could feel it, even from the distance, with half of the Great Hall and the thick marble walls separating them. It slithered up his throat, grabbed him, choked him.

But he couldn't look away.

One of the figures stopped and surveyed the devastation, and they toed at the leg of a nearby body, before cackling. Twisted hands raised towards the sky in vile jubilation, and then returned to their limp position before the hooded figure.

"Good, Anakin, good," the familiar, rasping voice echoed through the hall. The other figure dropped to one knee, and dropped their head in deference. "You have done well, my new apprentice. Now, go and bring peace to our Empire."

Eddie felt a chill in recognition. He knew that voice. Everyone knew that voice—

Chancellor Palpatine...The Emperor.

—And he knew that name. Or maybe he didn't, not really. Not at all.

Anakin Skywalker, one of the greatest heroes of the republic.

Eddie recoiled from the vent and shook his head.

"No," he forced out through gritted teeth. "No. It can't be."

"I thought so, too," Thalia said sadly, and when she finally turned to look at him, he saw tears dripping down her cheeks. Kriff, he felt his own tears begin to sting the corners of his eyes. "But it was true."

Anakin Skywalker. General Skywalker. The poster boy of the Republic. The Hero With No Fear. How many interviews had he done on the HoloNet, how many times had Eddie and his friends hero-worshipped Anakin alongside his fellow Jedi? How many times had Eddie considered spending the few measly credits of allowance he got from Wane on a war bond just because Anakin's face had been plastered on every screen in the Terrace?

"He wouldn't betray the Jedi."

"He did."

"He was a hero."

"He was seduced by the Dark Side."

"He wouldn't do that...the Jedi were his family. His friends."

Then there was an echo in the air, as Thalia spoke to him through the Force.

"Anakin betrayed his friends. And so did I."

He was about to ask for clarification when was thrown from the tunnel, and the world swirled around him. Images flashed before his eyes of the ragtag group of kids climbing out of a filthy pipe in The Works on Coruscant. Their slow trek across the city to CoCo Town where they found refuge at a diner. Dex's Diner. The days and weeks that they stuck together to care for each other.

He felt like he was going cross-eyed at the sheer speed and volume of the information being filtered directly into his mind; it was almost painful, and Thalia was in control. He didn’t understand what she was trying to convey, until he followed her younger self through the day her world changed.

The moments leading up to it were deceptively quick. A day as uneventful as any, as she volunteered to venture out alone and find supplies. But she’d made a stupid mistake. Sympathetic to the cries of the younglings who missed the only home they’d ever known, she’d ventured back to the Temple through the tunnels they’d escaped through to fetch belongings that couldn’t be replaced. And upon her return? She was chased down winding streets by the Coruscant Security Forces and captured.

Then he was in a room, lit by only a faint, red light emanating through the grated floors. He couldn’t move, no matter how much he thrashed and shook. His arms and legs were locked in place; he could see Imperial interrogation droids floating in his peripheral vision, and a scan grid hanging menacingly overhead, waiting to be lowered onto him.

“Let me go!” He tried to yell, but the voice that came from his mouth was not his, but Thalia’s. “Help! Help me!”

A blast door opened and clone troopers filed in, along with a ghastly figure dressed in black and red. A Pau’an male who looked sickly and monstrous, but grinned menacingly as he approached.

“You’ll tell us where they are,” he droned in a terrible voce. “It. Is. Inevitable.”

More images flashed before Eddie’s eyes, of this same man. Healthy and friendly, Hen-ri, a Jedi Temple Guard that had known Thalia and her friends; how had he become…this thing? Corrupted by the Empire? A slayer of the Jedi, instead of a protector of them.

Just like Anakin had been.

“You’re gonna have to kill me,” he…Thalia…spat.

“If that’s what it takes,” he droned and waved to the troopers.

He couldn’t dwell on his emotions for much longer because pain was the only thing he felt. Shocks and burns from the scan grid, injections from the floating interrogation droids.

They starved her, beat her.

Until she begged them, whimpered for them to stop.

Until she gave them the location of her friends.

Eddie felt the hot, burning pain in his heart as he felt the words fall from her lips; for a second, he couldn’t blame her, as his head drooped weakly and the world went dark.

But when his eyes opened again…there stood a beaten and bloody Steev standing across from him. Across from Thalia. He was being held back by troopers, Jedi robes drenched in blood, as he thrashed and screamed and bared his teeth.

Thalia blinked once. Twice. And then her gaze shifted back down at the ground, and saw the bodies of the children–the younglings and R'sshekh–strewn about the floor. Dead.

There was a flash of light, burning and hateful and shockingly red.

And Eddie was thrown from her body as she screamed, as chaos reigned as her control of the Force became untethered. The sight of the walls of the room caving in on themselves was last thing he saw before he returned back to the real world.

He gasped for breath as he was shoved back into his body in the escape pod. Back with Thalia, the real Thalia, older and wearier and with blue hair. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he immediately rubbed his eyes to get them to stop.

He felt sick, the images of those kids burned into his eyelids. The sound of Steev and Thalia’s screams echoed in his ears.

"What was that?" He barked out the demand, voice scathing and viscous. "Why did you show me that?"

Thalia pulled her hand back to her lap; she cradled it in the other hand, as though she was protecting it from further harm.

Maybe she was...but not harm to herself. Harm to him. Harm that she caused him; he still felt the phantom pains of her torture. And he didn't want to snap at her again, after feeling the barrage of her anguish, but he did.

"Thalia!" She jumped at his bark. He demanded answers. "Why?"

"Because you had to know!" She snapped back at him. "I betrayed them."

"You...you survived." He shook his head incredulously. "You had to survive, you were just a kid too. But why would you show me that way?" he questioned. He got to his feet and stood over her. "Why would you take me though the day that the order fell...and then..."

"How else could I tell you about the most shameful days of my life?" she asked, getting to her feet as well. "I've relive those days enough. Constantly. My mistakes. My weaknesses. You think I just survived? I…I chose to survive rather than die for those kids…for my friends. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't die for your friends?"

She breathed heavily and stared directly into his eyes, daring him to lie to her. When he didn't answer, she grabbed the front of his jacket desperately.

"Your friends trust you. Just like my friends all trusted me. And I let them down."

"It's in the past," he muttered. "You have to move on. You can't fix it...can't change it."

"And that's exactly what I'm doing," she nodded. "It's what I do next...how I fix those mistakes...that's important.

"I showed you that day because I needed you to...to know. You found out what I am before I got the chance to tell you anything, Eddie. I wish...I wish I could've told you the truth but I needed to know I could trust you with all of it. You're still...you're still angry, still confused abut why I couldn't; I can sense it in you.

"But I need you to understand that the capability for betrayal lies with more than simply trusting someone. I betrayed my friends…I brought them to certain death, even though I said I would die for them. Which is why I did it this way, why I had to make sure I could trust you with my secrets before I revealed them to you."

Why would she do that? Why would it matter?

He was not a jedi. He was just a smuggler. He was nobody, nothing, a stranger. He wasn’t a part of her journey, wasn’t a part of anything. And she'd deliberately put him and his crew in danger. Even more danger, now that he knew that she'd escaped...not only the purge of the Jedi Order, but the clutches of the Empire itself.

So why had this experience shaken him as badly as it did?

He took a breath, swallowed, and steeled himself; he still wasn't comfortable with Thalia being able to read him as easily as she was able to.

"Well, thanks for trusting me with that," he said dismissively. "It's been nice to meet the real you, Thalia. It'll just be a few more days until we'll arrive on Coruscant and you'll be on your way."

"Eddie, please—" She stared at him with pleading eyes but he refused to look, refused to understand what it was she was trying to convey.

"And you don't have to worry about me or any of my crew keeping this a secret. We know how to keep our mouths shut."

"But that isn't enough," Thalia snapped.

"What do you want then?" He shook her hands off of him and stomped out of the escape pod. "Do you want...absolution? Is that what you're looking for? You can't forgive yourself? Well newsflash, I can't forgive you either; I don't even know you. You know what? You want my help? I've heard there are cults in the Unknown Regions who do things like that. We can change course right now."

"I need you to listen to me!"

"I think I've heard enough!"

There were aggressive beeps and the sound of footsteps walking down the ramp to the lower deck.

"What's going on down here?" Dayv demanded.

"It sounds like you let a bunch of Rancors fight," G'areth added.

D5-TN rolled over to Thalia and questioned if she was ok through a series of gentle whistles.

"If she's ok?" Eddie scoffed. "What about me? I'm your captain."

"Hey." Jeff crossed the short distance and slapped a hand on his shoulder then shook him a little bit. "It'll be ok, just take a few breaths. Why're you so upset?"

"Let Miss Mind Meld over there take you on a journey across time and space and you'll understand why I'm upset," Eddie scoffed and threw a hand out at Thalia. "But I'm sure if she did, you'd all want to toss her out into deep space. I think we were better off when she was still keeping secrets!"

"Did she tell you what's in that container?" Jeff asked.

"No!"

"I was about to, actually," Thalia cut in. Her brows were raised expectantly and she had her hands on her hips in a stance that, Eddie recognized, mirrored Steev's.

"Well, I wish you wouldn't," he told her weakly. "I can't deal with anymore...emotional turmoil today."

She muttered a few choice words under her breath and then began walking down to the cargo bay. D5-TN was hot on her heels, and Dayv and G'areth were soon to follow.

"C'mon," Jeff urged Eddie lightly. "It can't be worse than...whatever that was."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Eddie grumbled, but let his friend push him forward.

"The day the Republic fell," Thalia recounted as she stepped around the container, pressing seemingly unassuming panels at random intervals until a small panel slid aside and revealed a Datapad. "I led a bunch of younglings and initiates to safety. And a few weeks later, I was the reason they were captured and killed by the Empire. I would've died too...but...you know, when you witness something so harrowing as your friends dying...something inside of you dies, too."

She tapped the screen of the datapad over and over, typing long strings of code into it.

"I escaped and I honored my friends by surviving. But I vowed never to use the Force again. The thing about that is that the Force has other plans for you sometimes. So, a year ago...I was presented with a new...opportunity. Not only to live, but to do some good. To protect force-sensitive individuals, the way that I couldn't do when I was younger."

The front of the container hissed and then popped open. It slowly creaked forward, like a door.

"And so, I smuggle things...along with a network of other freelancers," Thalia continued, striding towards the front of the container. "Taking precious cargo, like this cargo, someplace safe."

She stopped at the opening and waved her hand towards herself.

"It's okay," she said softly. "You guys can come out now."

The crew of the Dragonborn stood frozen as almost a dozen figures emerged from the cargo container.

Two adults, a short togruta woman and a towering Nikto male. And then...kids.

Two adolescent togruta boys who hovered behind who was obviously their mother. And a little Zabrak girl who held the Nikto's hand. A twi'lek boy and girl, obviously siblings if their coloring gave them away; the older sister held the boy back when his eyes lit up at the sight of D5-TN. After them stomped out a short Theelin female with bright red hair and an awful attitude if the expression on her face was anything to go by.

And then humans. Run of the mill humans. A brother and sister who seemed to be bickering. And a tall girl who was probably more of an adult than a child, but her gangly limbs and round cheeks gave her more of a childish quality.

They all stopped and stood under the scrutiny of Eddie and his crew as Thalia went to each of them and reassured them that everything was safe and they were going to be ok.

"They have food and other supplies in there." She then turned to the group of smugglers. "And they've all traveled a long way, along this...thing...called the Hidden Path. To keep surviving Jedi and other force sensitives safe from the Empire. They could've been sent anywhere but they, unfortunately, got stuck with me for the last leg of their journey."

She held her hands out beside her, as if to say Here I am, take it or leave it.

Everyone turned and looked at Eddie then, who stood there in silent shock. He, of course, was a mess of conflicting emotions. Anger lingered, confusion, relief that this was what they were hauling across the galaxy, and then, deep down, fear. Because, as he had pointed out earlier, they were heading to Coruscant.

The seat of the Empire.

Teaming with Stormtroopers and, oh yeah, The Emperor.

And suddenly he wasn't just faced with the reality that Thalia was the one they had to keep safe from possibly being found. But all of these people, too. People he hadn't even realized had been on his ship.

People who were packed into that container like a can of burra fish.

He couldn't put any words to what he was thinking, so he simply raised a hand to cover his mouth, and he shook his head...confused.

"I have some friends and a ship waiting for me on Coruscant to take them to their final stop on the journey," Thalia explained. "To this planet...Bogano. It's an abandoned planet that Master Cordova had...rediscovered. Before the fall of the Order. Before the Purge. The only others who knew about it were his assistant...and his datapad. Both of which are conveniently on this ship."

She smiled a cheeky little smile at her own joke, then went somber.

"Master Cordova...well, he's one of the Jedi who are still unaccounted for. But...I have hope."

The gangly girl laid a comforting hand on Thalia's shoulder and gave her a shaky smile.

"We have hope, too," she said softly.

Thalia patted her hand thankfully and then looked back at the guys.

At Eddie, specifically.

"It's not much," she said with a sense of finality. "But it's a start to fix what it is I did...all those years ago. I have a list of people that can be saved, and I will do everything in my power to save them. To honor the ones I couldn’t."

"Wait a damn minute," G'areth piped up, voice laden with confusion. "If you had another ship...a crew on Coruscant, why couldn't they have just met up with you and the Assob's on Nar Shaddaa? Taking these guys straight to this...Bonago."

"Bogano," Thalia corrected him.

"Whatever." G'areth rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and does this really mean we're not gonna get paid?" Jeff added.

"You're going to get paid," Thalia assured him.

"Then I don't see why we need to ask anymore questions," he joked. "We're on course to Coruscant, end of story."

"Well, I wanna know," Eddie finally spoke. He stepped out of the group with his friends and eyed each of the newcomers—if you could call them that—aboard the ship, then at Thalia. "I want to know why you needed our help with this. Why you sought me and my crew to help you haul a bunch of...runaways halfway across the galaxy, incognito. Instead of using your own ship. Your own crew."

"They're not really my crew," Thalia argued, but Eddie's brows jumped as high as they could and he grit his teeth impatiently as he waited for an answer. "Alright. I did my research, I sought you guys out. I sought you out, Eddie, because these kids...are not the only people I'm trying to keep safe from the Empire. They're not the only Force sensitives I'm trying to save."

She took a step closer to him, putting them practically nose to nose, and dropped her voice low.

"You told me on Outpost 86 that you'd always dreamed of a day that the Jedi would come and tell you that you belonged with them. That they'd take you away from your miserable, boring life," she whispered.

His heart dropped into his stomach, anticipating what she might say next.

Still, he had the audacity to whisper back, "I don't think I used the word miserable."

Thalia, of course, scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Then she said, "Eddric Reckless Moonsun. Consider yourself rescued."

Next Chapter: When Ambush Come to Shove (2/25 at 7PM CST)

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