#look at me remembering to do something i was tagged in

[suguann]

SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.

✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+

tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only

masterlist

The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 

Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.

Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.

Forty years old.

Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.

An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.

He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.

It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.

In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.

He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.

That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.

A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.

You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.

After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.

Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.

“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”

You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”

“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 

It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.

“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”

His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.

He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.

“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.

It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 

If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.

It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.

By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.

“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.

“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.

“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 

The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.

“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”

Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 

He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.

On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.

Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #.things i write

[theyluvkarolina]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍’ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` And then I go and spoil it all, By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you" ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃?: Yes! (Part of 1K Event!)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ Being Max’s strategist is a experience you’d cherish forever. The constant laughter, friendly teasing, shared smiles after wins, is also something Max would never change. But in Max's case, he see’s nothing of this as simply friendly. But sometimes, words are best kept to oneself.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ Max Verstappen x Strategist!Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ some photos of kelly get used but i blur out her face, rejection, ANGSTY 🥴🥴, a very slight song fic? (they are listening to it so not really a song fic)

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ So so sorry this took longer than expected! My schedule was not my bestie last week 😞 but i have a very special note for my pookie bear ash at the bottom 🫶🫶 (FOLLOW HER ON @maxtermind !! SHE HAS AMAZING WORKS)

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

2021

y/n_rbstrat ✔︎

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, danielricciardo, and others

y/n_rbstrat Max. Maxie. Max Emilian Verstappen ladies and gentlemen, your 2021 World Champion. I’m so lucky and proud to have been your strategist and I pray it’s this way for years to come. Seeing you grow along with me is something I’m forever grateful for. I love you so much, my best friend 🩷

tagged ; maxverstappen1, redbullracing

2,409 comments

username1 STOP THE MAX CELEBRATION POST :(

username2 what if i started crying rn

username3 “I love you so much, my best friend” hurt.

→ username4 NO BC WTF DO YOU MEAN FRIENDS??? Y/N HAVE YOU SEEN HOW HE LOOKS AT YOU?? → username5 max is punching air.

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ couldn’t have done it without the best strategist ever ❤️

→ y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ and i couldn’t have done it with the best driver ever 😊 ❤️ → landonorris ✔︎ fucking hell just kiss already → username6 HELP LANDO → username7 bro had enough → landonorris ✔︎ trust me if you see these two all the time in person and refuse to acknowledge their feelings, you want it to be done with. → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ what are you talking about?? → landonorris ✔︎ you know. → username8 if they don’t get together i think i might throw myself off the highway → charles_lelerc ✔︎ “best strategist” huh?

username9 max and y/n hugging is my roman empire.

username10 we are all delusional for y/nstappen.

maxverstappen1 ✔︎

liked by y/n_rbstrat, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and others

maxverstappen1 truly unbelievable. i want to thank red bull, my family, friends, y/n, and everyone else for their support. 2021 World Champion 🏆 🎉

tagged ; y/n_rbstrat, redbullracing

5,305 comments

username11 Y/N GETTING HER OWN MENTION HAS MY HEART 😭

username12 if they don’t date i might cry

username13 the hug 😭 ❤️

username14 i feel so single rn

charles_leclerc ✔︎ congratulations! i hope you remember our deal 😉

→ landonorris ✔︎ why wasn’t I informed about this deal??? → georgerussel63 ✔︎ we all know you can’t keep a secret lando → alexalbon ✔︎ says the one that follows gossip accounts and asks us if we know stuff in the gc. → georgerussel63 ✔︎ im not as bad as charles and pierre… those two do it in public WITHOUT SHAME 😒 → pierregasly ✔︎ DONT DRAG ME INTO THIS → username15 HELLO WHAT IS ALL OF THIS?? → username16 NO BECAUSE I NEED TO BE PART OF THIS F1 GROUP CHAT 😭

y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ stop it max i’m going to cry!! im so proud of you! i would never trade my favorite driver for anything in the world ❤️🥹

→ danielricciardo ✔︎ favorite driver??? what the hell am i?? 🙄 → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ the side piece now that you left → danielricciardo ✔︎ uncalled for. → y/n_rbstrat ✔︎ be nice boys pls :( → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ yes ma’am → danielricciardo ✔︎ simp → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ i didn’t know being nice was me being a simp → danielricciardo ✔︎ mate, i saw you literally carrying all her things into the paddock?? you never did that for me → maxverstappen1 ✔︎ last time i checked she’s MY ENGINEER → danielricciardo ✔︎ ugh whatever you say… → username17 guys idk about you but i think max only likes y/n → username18 the way he doe everything for her and she doesn’t see this as love 😭 → username19 i mean she did say in a interview she wasn’t looking for any relationships because of how good her career is doing → username20 idk about anyone else.. but I feel like the day max confesses is the day their relationship comes crashing down. → username21 DON’T START SAYING THIS BS NOW.

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In Person

The heavy, thumping bass reverberates through the walls as you stand in the corner of the club. The club was never your thing. The floors constantly holding spilled drinks and other concoctions, the smell of BO and alcohol overwhelming your senses, the crowded atmosphere filled with sweating people… safe to say if it weren’t for Max dragging you out to be with the team celebrating you would be wrapped in blankets watching some sort of trashy reality TV show.

Max finally made his way over to you, a wide grin plastered on his face, clearly in his element here. He took in the sight of you. Every curve of your body, yevery way your hair falls, the way your eyes twinkle slightly when you notice him, the look of your red lips. He can never get tired of it.

"Hey, glad you made it out," he shouted over the music, the classic rasp in his voice showing as he clapped you on the back trying to hope you haven’t noticed his staring.

You managed a weak smile, feeling out of place amidst the pulsating energy of the club. "Of course," you replied, slightly raising your voice to be heard, “ you think I’d miss celebrating your Championship win?”.

Max gave a smile, “Never. Besides, if you said no, I’d find someway to get you to come over here.”.

You raised a brow at his statement. “Really? How so?”

Max let out a hum as he sloshed his drink in his cup. “Hm… I’m not too sure. Not seeing the cats are a good place to start.”, a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your raised brow turned into a furrow in disbelief, “You wouldn’t dare… not Jimmy and Sassy… they love me!” You exclaimed while Max gave a laugh, running his hand through his blonde stands, well more of him doing a hair-tuck to his nonexistent length. The conversation soon comes to a halt, although the music is booming, it felt as if it is just you and him in the entire world at the moment. It was your own form of silence. A comfortable one.

"How about we get out of here.” He suggested, breaking the silence.

“Leave? Max, we just got here! You said-“

“I asked you to celebrate with me, I never said where. It’s my Championship win after all.” He smiled, his eyes wrinkling from his proposition. “We only met here because this is where the team would be. It’s not as if they would notice we’re gone anyways… they are too wasted to even think.”

You tried to hide your smile but failed as Max extended his hand pressing it against your back, his eyes shining with mischief.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he urged. And suddenly, the pulsating energy of the club faded into the background as if the world outside those doors was beckoning to you.

You both stepped out into the cool night air, and beyond the hustle and bustle of the city, there was a strange serenity. It was as if time slowed down, and you found myself feeling more alive than you had in a long while. Max’s hand felt warm… reassuring… friendly. A steady presence in the midst of the urban chaos.

Being a woman in the industry of Formula One caused many controversies, let alone being a engineer to one of the possible best upcoming drivers in the history of the sport. From the sexist comments from other Formula One fans, to even your own people, co-workers in the workplace. Their degrading looks given to you if you even tried to hold a conversation with them was enough to be said. It wasn’t until a response to a interview did others begin to take you seriously. One that Max himself gave.

"Max, how do you feel about having a new, female engineer like Y/N on your team, especially during such a critical incident like the one with Bottas in Hungary? Do you think her gender affected her performance under pressure and can contribute to this race in Belgium? I mean, women are known to crack more under pressure then men.“ The interviewer asked as the room went quiet, a singular cough reverberating in the room from the tension of the atmosphere becoming so thick you can cut it with a knife.

“Excuse me?” Max questioned, his voice holding a tone filled of disbelief and slight disgust.

“I said, Max, how do you feel about-“

“No, no, I understood what you said I’m not deaf.” Her cut the journalist off making the journalist pause his speech and hold his tongue. “Look, I couldn’t care less about her gender. What matters to me is if she can do the job, which she’s been doing remarkably well. And as for the incident with Bottas in Hungary, she handled the pressure just like any other competent engineer would. It wasn’t her fault. I’ll take the blame for it. Her gender has nothing to do with it. If anything, it adds a fresh perspective to our team, and that’s a good thing. Now if anyone has any other questions like this asshole over here, I would pick another question to do.”

No one dared to speak of you the way the interviewer did.

After the interview, you approached Max who happened to be watching over some data from the sim. Blue eyes focused with such intensity that he didn’t even notice you.

”Max, I wanted to thank you for standing up for me in there. It means a lot to have your support." You commented softly, not wanting to disrupt him due to Max being known for his rather… straightforward and blunt responses.

"No problem. We're a team, and a team supports each other. Your gender shouldn’t matter in the first place. It’s all about weather you can do your job and your doing just fine.” He said matter of fact.

You nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. You weren’t used to it one bit. But it felt amazing. As if you can actually walk somewhere and not be treated as if you were a piece of dirt.

”Thanks you... I'm glad to be part of this team, and I'll keep giving my best."

A tender look graced your face as you remember the memory, finally gaining a friend in the hell of a industry, but you wouldn’t change it in the world if it meant that you got to meet Max and work with him. While you both walked along the quiet streets, the sounds of the city and the soft glow of the street lights enveloping us in a kind of magical cocoon.

“So… where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” was his only response, making you roll your eyes.

You two continued walking until you reach a secluded area on the white, sandy beach of the UAE. You look up to the dark, noir sky. The sun was long gone and the only shine that hits your skin was the moonlight, complemented by the clusters of stars crafting their own soft glow. Max stared at you as if you were some sort of marble statue, hand crafted by the Greeks.

How can someone be so beautiful?

The humming song from a nearby restaurant or bar was the only sound heard. It was a gentle melody, one that fits the mood so far into the night.

"Care to dance?” Max finally asked, snapping you out of your trance.

“Dance? What are we? In our early 20’s?” You teased, eyes meeting his blue eyes that glisten like the moon’s reflection in the oceans waves.

"Age doesn't define how we have fun," he retorted. You couldn't help but snort a bit, feeling the lightheartedness of the moment.

"Alright, why not?" you agreed, letting him lead you to a spot under the faint light of a nearby lamppost. He placed his calloused hand onto the small of your back, close to your hip just as he did to lead you out of the club, then leading your hand to be placed onto his shoulder

As the music enveloped you, you swayed to the gentle rhythm, feeling the warmth of the sand under your feet and the cool breeze from the ocean as his eyes meet yours.

`` I practice every day, To find some clever lines to say, To make the meaning come true ``

“I’m proud of you you, y’know that?”

“You’ve told me once or twice.”

“It’s true though.” You reassure.

“It’s just as true as me saying how beautiful you are.”

`` But then I think I'll wait Until the evening gets late And I'm alone with you ``

You let out a chuckle. “Smooth Max Emilian Verstappen. Very smooth. Practicing for some girl that caught your eye or something?”

His eyes slightly widen before losing contact with yours, “Maybe I am…”, his cheeks being brushed with a slight red.

“Well she must be a lucky girl. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It goes faint.

`` The time is right, your perfume fills my head The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue ``

“Can-…” Max starts glancing back at you before cutting himself off choking on his own words.

“What is it, Max?”

“Godverdomme… can I tell you something?”

“Anything. I’m you friend after all.”

Friend.

`` And then I go and spoil it all By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you" ``

"I love you.”

“You… you what?”

Your movement stops.

“I love you Y/N. So much. Ever since you walked in the office I-“

“No… no no no… “

“…What?”

“Max… please tell me your messing with me…”

He is just your friend. But you’re his everything.

Twitter

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ Ash, my love, my pookie, the love of my life, you my love re the reason I’m here today. If it weren’t for you reaching out and becoming friends with me in March, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Whether it be reviewing our work together, watching GP’s together, sending THOSE edits to one another, and even just random rants and talks, I’m glad it was you who I was with when I started my writing journey and I wouldn’t change a thing. I really hope you like this fic, I def tried my best with it 🥹🫶 LOVE YOU LOTS LOVELY 🩷

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝ #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula one x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #f1 fic #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #f1 fandom #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 angst #f1 social media au #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #lando norris #george russell #charles leclerc #alex albon #pierre gasly

[paarthunaxx]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 CALL MY NAME, I’M YOURS TO TAME — 18+

larissa weems x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

status: completed

summary: You and Larissa Weems have been best friends since your years spent together at Nevermore. You have been meeting for tea every week since your graduation. But when the pharmacy in Jericho runs out of heat suppressants, you have to miss your afternoon tea with her.

And Larissa, being the dutiful best friend, pays you a visit instead.

tags: smvt, fluff, werewolf reader, in heat, kn0tting, decades of mutual pining, established friendship, soft larissa weems, larissa weems with a d1ck, shapeshifting, p in v, nickname mommy, nickname puppy

read here on ao3!

“Here is your tea, dear.”

“Thanks, Riss,” You take the teacup from Larissa’s pale hands and rub the pad of your thumb over the painted golden rim of the cup before setting it down on a pretty white saucer. “So, anything else to catch me up on this week?”

Larissa takes a long sip from her own florally adorned teacup and sinks into the armchair across from you. “Do you remember Morticia Frump?” She asks with the smallest hint of bitterness on her tongue. It doesn't come as a surprise to you. Larissa is a sweet woman, but you don't think you've ever heard her speak about Morticia without that resentment in her voice.

“Yes. Your roommate from when we attended Nevermore?” You nod and settle back into your own chair, folding one leg over the other. You notice Larissa’s gaze lingering on them for a flash of a moment, but don’t bother bringing it up. “You’ve spoken to her recently?”

Larissa gives a grim incline of her head and huffs a soft sigh through her nose. “Indeed. She called last night to request that I meet her child and consider enrolling her in the school.”

“And will you?” You ask curiously, lifting your teacup and taking a slow sip. There is just the right amount of sugar and milk mixed in. Larissa always makes the perfect cup of tea.

“I have a duty to look after the children of outcasts. I would not cast a young girl out just because I am not on the best of terms with her mother,” Larissa whispers. “I just wish I did not have to meet Morticia in order to enrol her daughter. I’m afraid it will be too painful to see her again.”

You send a sympathetic smile in her direction and shift forward in your seat. Leaning across the coffee table, you reach out to squeeze her knee. Her breath hitches at the touch as she watches you like a hawk. “It’ll be okay, Riss. Everything happened so long ago. And if she annoys you… Just think about all the different ways you’d like to fight her, then tell me all about it next week.”

Larissa giggles at that and places her large hand over your smaller one which rests on her knee, giving it a gentle pat. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, which you mentally blame on static. “You are right. There’s no point in being so absorbed in the past.”

“I usually am right,” You tease with a soft laugh. “Be the bigger person.”

Larissa raises a neatly plucked eyebrow at that. An amused smirk dances across her painted lips and she quips, “Pun intended?”

You snort around another sip of tea, almost spitting the stuff everywhere. You manage to choke it down and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. After your laughter trails off, you spend another half an hour catching each other up on everything that has happened in the past week. Just like you have been doing every week for… well, years.

Larissa has been your best friend since you both attended Nevermore. Many times you have looked at her and wondered if there could be something more between you, but you don’t even know if she would want that. If she even likes women. And you’re terrified to risk your friendship by asking her out… No matter how much you adore her.

When the teacups have been drained and the grandfather clock pushed up against the wall starts to chime the hour, you sigh and lean back in your chair. “Time for me to get going.”

Larissa tsks softly, a playful pout poking out her lower lip. “Shame. Time always flies by so quickly with you.”

“I know,” You agree with a short nod. “Maybe we should start doing sleepovers instead of tea.”

“Maybe,” She whispers. A soft pink blush dusts across her pale cheeks and she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. She nudges her empty cup of tea out of the way and rises from her chair, towering over you. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Oh, how you'd love to climb her like a tree.

You follow her out of her dimly lit office and walk by her side as she leads you through the school to the large front entrance. You fit in some more idle chatter along the way through the familiar hallways, before coming to a stop on the stone steps outside.

“Until next week, dear,” Larissa leans down to wrap her arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“See you then, Riss,” You stretch up on your tiptoes to hug her back, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of her sweet perfume lingering in your nose.

“I’ll be counting the minutes,” She whispers in your ear. There is such conviction in her soft voice that it feels as though she truly means those words.

She gives your waist a gentle squeeze and you reluctantly pull away from her. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as your brain immediately cries out in protest at the absence of her warmth. With one final goodbye, you turn away from her and make your way down the steps, bracing yourself for the walk home in the bitter afternoon air.

ᥫ᭡

You hum a soft tune to yourself as you bustle around your apartment, struggling with the bundle in your arms. You snatch up every pillow and blanket you can find, tossing them onto the bed to be arranged into a nest later. Each of them have been picked out specifically for the purpose of nesting, every one as warm and comfortable as possible. The pile on the bed is almost bigger than you, and you stand and stare at the mess of blankets with a proud smile on your face. Although you have your suppressants, it still feels comforting to bury into your nest during your heat, even if it is just to nap or read a book. Like being wrapped up in a warm hug from La—

You startle at the sudden shrill ringing of your phone from where it rests on your nightstand. You place a hand over your thundering heart and puff out a breath to calm yourself. In a few long strides, you cross the room and snatch the phone up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello! This is the Jericho pharmacy calling,” The familiar voice of Mrs Jones, the pharmacist, comes from the other end of the phone. “We are so terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but we will not be able to refill your prescription for suppressants at the moment. Our supplier has had a stock issue, and we have to wait for more to come from a bigger supplier in the city.”

“What?” You swallow hard, your eyes widening. Panic splits through you like branching lightning, your hand curling into a fist around the phone so hard you almost shatter it. “How long will that take?”

“Around a week and a half,” The pharmacist informs you.

“A week and a half? But… My heat starts tomorrow, and I don’t have any suppressants,” You whisper. “I haven’t gone through a heat in years. You don’t even have enough to get me through the week?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry. We can fill your next prescription free of charge as an apology for the delay. And if you need scent blockers, we can have them dropped outside your door.”

“Alright… Well, thank you for telling me. See you in a week and a half,” You hang up and toss your phone on the bed. Scrubbing your hands irately down your face, you mutter one word.

“Shit.”

ᥫ᭡

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you that night. Even wrapped up in the bundles of pillows and blankets that have been arranged for your nest, you can’t stop tossing and turning. Anxiety floods through your veins, making your body feel cold and your chest tight. It’s been so long since you allowed your body to go through a heat. There will be years of pent up energy in control of your body, and it's terrifying. You turned to the internet, searching through outcast forums to find out whether it will be more intense when it comes. Every werewolf in the world seems to be in agreement.

The longer it’s been, the worse your next heat will be.

By the time morning comes, you haven’t slept a wink. You sigh and force yourself out of your bed, shuffling to the kitchen to shove a cup of coffee down your throat. As you stir the sugar cubes into your favourite mug, your gaze happens to drift towards the calendar pinned up on your wall. On the square for that day, there is a large red circle with a little teacup scribbled in the middle.

“Shit,” You hiss for what feels like the millionth time in the last twelve hours. You stand there and stare at the doodle of the teacup, pondering whether you should still try to attend or call Larissa up and tell her you can’t make it to tea that day.

You know if you venture out of the house and your heat comes on, any alpha nearby will be able to smell you from a mile away. There may not be that many in Jericho, but even one would pose such a great danger to you… Never mind the werewolf students at Nevermore.

It would also be incredibly embarrassing to go into heat right in front of your best friend, and have her drive you home as you gush all over the seats of her car and whine in need. You shudder at the thought of what Larissa might think of you after something like that.

Before you can even make a proper decision on what to do, an odd feeling shoots through you. You feel your knees going weak, a sticky liquid clinging to your thighs and soaking your shorts. Another curse slips out as you clutch onto the edge of the counter, gasping at the coiling sensation twisting through your lower stomach. Your whole body shakes and you grab onto the counter for dear life.

Looks like you definitely won’t be seeing Larissa today.

You abandon your coffee, letting it go cold on the counter as you drag yourself back into your bedroom. It’s a difficult trip. Your legs threaten to give out beneath you the whole way there, your mind screaming at you to lay down with them spread and just hope an alpha happens to come along. Your brain has never felt so fuzzy before. You’ve never felt so stupid.

The moment you make it back to your room, you throw yourself into the nest. Your clothes are off in an instant. Flung carelessly in a heap in the corner. With trembling hands, you reach into your nightstand and grab a small purple bullet vibrator, fumbling around to switch it on. The trusty little toy has been used many times in the past while you thought of Laris— of… stuff. As soon as it makes contact with your aching clit you whine and arch off the bed, your body flooding with relief now that you finally have some friction. You bring yourself to the peak within minutes. And again. And again. And again…

But it’s not enough.

You shove your fingers inside while stimulating yourself with the bullet. Two isn’t enough. You add another. Not enough. You sob and writhe, your stupid mutt brain and your body aching for one thing. A quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand shows the time Larissa should be waking up for the day. You know you should let her know while your brain still works somewhat.

You lick your dry lips and reach out for your phone. Reluctantly, you switch off the vibrator and set it to the side while you call Larissa. She answers almost immediately.

“Hello, darling,” Her sweet, sleepy voice comes through the other end of the phone. “Are you alright?”

Biting back the soft whine that bubbles up from your chest proves almost impossible. The sound of her voice sends another flash of desire through you, your essence coating your shaking thighs. “Larissa,” You whisper hoarsely. “I… I can’t… Make it… Today…”

Concern rings clear through her voice as she hears you panting. “Oh? Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah,” Your fingers gravitate towards your swollen clit, rubbing at it slowly as you listen to her speak. You gasp before you can bite back the sound, and clear your throat. “Yeah. Just… Don’t feel so good. I’ll see you next week?”

“Okay… Get better soon, alright? Do call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” The words come out in a breathless mumble before you hang up the phone and chuck it to the side. Just the memory of her voice has you growing wetter by the second, your fingers coated in your juices as you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Flashes of her face shoot through your mind, of her large hands and long fingers…

The vibrator is snatched up again in an instant.

You spend the next hour pleasing yourself without a break. Overstimulation makes your body jolt and twitch, but you can’t stop. You can’t. It just isn’t enough. Your mind is well and truly mush at this point, shown in the way your gaze drifts towards the door and for just a second, you consider opening the door and letting your scent waft out. Waiting for the first alpha to come and claim you.

For a moment, you seriously think about it. It would make your heat more bearable. Yes, said alpha might do horrible things to you, and you don’t really want that, but…

Before you can do anything stupid, the doorbell rings.

Sobbing in frustration, you set your vibrator down again. You force yourself up on shaky legs, not bothering to put pants on. You simply tug the oversized t-shirt down over yourself and shuffle to the front door, yanking it open.

Standing there in front of you is Larissa. Clutched in her hands is a wicker basket stuffed full of gifts. Teabags, cough drops, a couple of face masks, some flowers and a small teddy bear. “Hello,” Larissa greets you with a bright smile. “Since you aren’t well, I thought I would bring—” As soon as she catches sight of you, her words trail off. “...Oh.”

“Larissa,” You gasp. You have to grip onto the door frame to keep yourself upright. Your cheeks are flushed beyond belief, your eyes glazed over and distant. There is a thin layer of sweat on your skin, not to mention the wet patches on the back of your long shirt and your thighs. “I’m in heat.”

Her own cheeks flush when she hears those words. “I… I thought you didn’t go into heat. I thought you took pills.”

“I do. Pharmacy ran out.” Those are the only words you can manage before another tidal wave of need crashes through you and you whimper, sinking to the ground.

“Oh, my darling…” Larissa coos and invites herself inside. She closes and locks the door behind her, sets the gift basket down on the coffee table, then lifts you gently from the floor. She pulls her coat off and folds it over the back of the couch, then slips her feet out of her high heels. “Come on, my sweet. Let’s get you nice and comfortable, okay?”

You know there is no comfortable for you right now, but you don’t dare mention that to her when she is being so sweet. So attentive. You feel yourself getting more wet.

She scoops you up into her arms with ease and carries you to the bedroom. Her chest rumbles a little when she clears her throat upon seeing the vibrator carelessly left on your soaked sheets. Thankfully, she says nothing about it and carefully sets you down.

It kills you to have her so close. You just want to rut against her milky white thigh and have her praise you, you want those long fingers inside you, you want her mouth on you. You’ve loved her for decades, but you’ve never felt such intense need for her in all that time.

“Larissa,” You whimper again, but you have nothing to say. You just need her attention.

“Poor thing,” She whispers. She hesitates for half a second before reaching out to brush her fingertips over your slick thigh. “What can I do for you, dear?”

That simple touch over your thigh alone makes you jolt and gasp. “Don’t… ask me that,” You plead. “You won’t like the answer.”

Larissa leans closer, her larger frame looming over yours as she reaches her free hand out to cup your chin. Her fingers are so gentle as they tilt your head back, as though she is handling something as delicate as a porcelain doll. “What can I do for you, dear?” She repeats in a firm whisper.

You melt as you’re forced to stare up into her sapphire eyes. It feels like you could become nothing more than a puddle in a pile of blankets if she continues this. “I…”

“Tell me,” She urges. Keeping her gaze fixed on you, she dips her head and presses a sweet little kiss to your jaw. “Let me help you. Tell me how.”

As pathetic as it is, the very little resolve you had left snaps as soon as you feel her lips on your skin. “Fuck me,” You pant, raising your hips unabashedly.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her grip on your chin growing slightly firmer. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’ll do that for you if that’s what you need, but I don’t want you to regret it later…”

“Larissa!” You groan before breaking out into a pathetic ramble. “I won’t regret it. I have loved you since we were teenagers, you’re the love of my life, there is literally nobody else in this world I would rather have help me with this. You must know that. You must have picked up on how much I love y—“

Before you can even finish that word, her lips are on yours.

Both of her hands move to pin your hips to the bed, forcing you to keep still instead of uselessly writhing around. The sheets beneath you become soaked almost to the point of ruin as she kisses you hard, her tongue brushing against yours desperately. You struggle to keep up with the searing heat of her kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes complete control. Your hips fight against her hold, and as a result she pins you down harder.

“Riss,” You whine against her lips.

“I know, darling,” She shushes you, one of her hands drifting from your hip to between your legs. You gasp out as her fingers press against you, teasing between your folds. “I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Can’t,” A soft sob slips past your parted lips as you pant, the pure desire for her making your body shake. “Can’t. Need you to knot me.”

“You need to wait a moment for my powers to work,” As though trying to sate you for the moment, two of Larissa’s long fingers slip inside you while her thumb rubs at your clit. When you gasp and arch into the feeling, she coos softly and begins kissing along the column of your throat. “My poor puppy. So desperate, aren’t you?”

All you can do is whine, unable to decide whether you should arch into her kisses or her fingers. Another orgasm rips through you as she circles your clit, your body squeezing around her fingers as you gasp and squirm.

“That’s it,” Larissa praises, lightening her hold on your hip. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out.”

You don’t need more convincing than that as your hips move wildly through it, taking everything those digits are giving you.

But you still need more. More sobs leave you and you stare up at her pleadingly. The ability to form words on your lips has left you entirely. All you can do is whimper like the pathetic little thing you are.

“I know, puppy,” She suddenly slips her fingers out of you, making you whine louder. She shushes you firmly and you fall silent in an instant. She straightens up to her full height and begins hitching her skirt up to her thighs, unclipping her stockings and pulling down her panties. Your whole body seizes up at the sight of the penis beneath her skirt, hard and already leaking. She seems to have taken size into account, knowing you will be stretched with the knot. It isn’t too long or thick, made perfectly to fit in your tight hole.

She’s so damn considerate you can’t believe it.

Larissa lays back against the mountain of pillows you have set up, giving herself a tantalising stroke before patting her lap. “Come here, pup.”

You don’t hesitate, scrambling across the bed and setting yourself on one of her large thighs. You fight the urge to rut against it, knowing there is a much better reward waiting right there for you if you’re a good girl for her. She rests her hands on your hips and carefully guides you over here. The leaking tip of her cock rubs against your folds, teasing your clit.

“Are you positive you want this?” Larissa questions in a gentle whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt,” You assure her and cup her cheek. A little smile twists at your lips as she leans into the touch and sighs. Even if she hadn't created her cock to fit you perfectly, you would be so soaked and opened up by this point she could fit inside easily without hurting you.

“Okay. Relax for me, dear,” She nods. She surges forward to capture your lips with her own again. Her big hands pull you closer, and as she distracts you by kissing you like a woman starved, she slips inside you. Both of you gasp in unison, the sensation unfamiliar to each of you. She groans as your tight pussy clenches around her, taking her time to sink deeper and deeper inside you.

That isn’t going to fly with you.

Without warning, you slam your hips down and sheathe her fully inside you. She moans in surprise and chokes out, “Darling—”

Finally getting what you’ve wanted this whole time, you don’t stop. You fuck yourself feverishly on top of her, taking her cock deep inside you over and over again. You keen and whimper as your lips trail down to her neck, sucking and biting at every inch of pale skin you can reach. Even as your mind starts to blur, you have to force yourself not to sink your tiny fangs into her throat and claim her.

“Darling, please, slow down—” Despite her pleading words, her hands continue to guide your hips at the brutal pace you have set for yourself. Her head tips back against the headboard, harsh pants leaving her parted lips every second. “Gods, you need to slow down—”

The stretch of her cock inside you is like pure heaven. To finally be filled, and have her doing it, is the most exhilarating thing you could ever dream of. Having her hit that spot deep inside you, hearing her moans and knowing you are the cause of them. You’re sure you’ve had this wet dream about a hundred times over the past couple of decades, but fuck none of those dreams could ever compare to the real thing.

“You want me to slow down?” You pant in her ear, willing to do whatever she wants even that means slowing down when you just want her to fuck your brains out.

“Gods, no,” She whispers and pulls you down as she starts meeting you halfway in quick thrusts.

You moan in sheer delight, melting against her chest as she fucks you hard. Like she’s been holding back these same feelings for just as long as you have, and now she finally gets to let them out. She holds you tight to her chest with one hand while the other squeezes your ass, kneading it appreciatively between her fingers.

“Riss, I—” You gasp as yet another climax starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. You can already feel this one is more intense than the others, and not just because you’re far beyond oversensitive at this point.

“That’s it,” Larissa coos, “come for me, darling. Let me feel you coming around me like a good pup.”

That is all the encouragement you need. This orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami as she pumps into you hard enough to fill the room with harsh slapping sounds. Your nails tear into her shoulders, sharpening into claws that rip right through her nice blazer. Clinging onto her for dear life, your whiny moans fill the room. All you can do is keep riding her and taking her with every deep thrust as your body jolts and writhes under her hold, your whole being on fire with the pleasure she gives you.

“You want mommy to knot you, sweetheart? Want me to fill up that sweet little pussy?” She pants. Your body tightens around her cock at the sound of those words and she giggles, gripping your hips and dragging you down even harder into every snap of her own. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” You pant, nuzzling your nose into her neck and becoming pliant in her hands, allowing her to do whatever she wants with you. “Please please please. Please knot me.”

Moments later, she gives you exactly what you want. She moans sweetly into your ear, her thrusts growing sloppy before she buries herself all the way inside you. She gasps and pants as her release pulses through you, the base of her cock swelling and keeping her stuck inside your pussy.

“You’re mine, now,” She whispers possessively into your ear. You’ve never heard her use that tone with you before, and it makes you shiver with another wave of need. If she wasn’t already stuck in you, you’d be riding her all over again just for that. She brushes some hair back from your sweaty face and kisses your temple. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“I’m yours,” You repeat in a brainless whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Larissa sighs, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I love you so, so much.”

She holds you for a long time, rubbing her hands up and down your back and praising you in a gentle voice. When she can finally pull out of you, she does so slowly, not wanting to hurt your sensitive hole. She curls a finger inside you to feel her own come filling you, and shivers at the feeling of her own stickiness on her fingertip.

“Just beautiful,” She murmurs and casts her blue eyes up to your face. “Do you feel better now, pup?”

“Yeah,” You nod, still a panting mess -- but a satisfied panting mess. “Thank you, Larissa. You… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” She scoops you up and holds you close to her chest, before slipping her long legs over the side of the bed and carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

“Larissa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you really mean it?” You ask nervously as you peer up at her. “When you said you loved me?”

“Of course,” Larissa smiles down at you. Her eyes shine with sincerity, and you can tell there isn’t a hint of dishonesty in her words. “I’ve loved you for… a very long time, sweetheart.”

There is a flutter of hope deep in your stomach as you swallow down a lump in your throat. “You have?”

“Yes.”

You can’t even bring yourself to say all of the things you want to as she perches you on the edge of the bath and begins running the hot water. As the steam fills the bathroom and she pours scented liquid into the water, all you can do is stare at her. At the red lipstick smudged across her beautiful lips, at her flushed cheeks visible even beneath her pale foundation. Her hair is still neatly pinned into place, she still looks eternally graceful despite the slight dishevelled appearance around her. This woman loves you. This… this goddess, standing before you, loves you.

“Larissa?” You clear your throat.

“Yes?” She chuckles, clearly amused by your line of questioning.

“After my heat ends, would you like to go on a date with me?” You blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

Larissa watches you for a long moment, a smile twitching at her painted lips. Eventually she nods, reaching out to caress your face. “I would love that.”

She bathes you with a great deal of care, making sure to be delicate near your swollen clit and cum-filled hole. You soon convince her to join you as another rush of heat goes through you, and she knots you again in the bath. Then she has to wash you all over again. Over the course of the next three days, the two of you can’t stop fucking. A couple of decades of pent up desire makes itself known in the course of a few days. During some point in those three days, she creates a set of long canine teeth for herself, sinks them into your throat and marks you as her own. At the end of it, you’re both utterly exhausted, but you’re happy.

So fucking happy.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems x reader fic

[racecardilfs]

aegean - fa14 smau

fernando alonso x fem!singer!reader

summary: fernando alonso and his girlfriend break up, but is it really over?

warnings: angst no fluff! some slut shaming moments, fernando does NOT look good in this one, but theres more going on behind the scenes i promise xx

a/n: this has no specific face claim, and the songs mentioned are from a variety of artists! there will be a list at the end of the post ♡ there is a part two to this all planned out, it will be posted shortly, hopefully!

my masterlist

Twitter

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Liked by yourbsf2, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 212,964 others

yourusername shout out to my girls 🫶 i love you forever!

tagged: yourbsf1, yourbsf2, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes

yourbsf1: YOURE SO PRETTY I LOVE YOU WIFE!!!!!

yourusername: NO YOU!!

alexandrasainmleux: pretty pretty girl!!

yourusername: can’t wait for another date with you gorgeous 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 charles_leclerc: excuse me? yourusername: you’re excused, vroom vroom boy 😒

user1: gorgeous gorgeous girls have breakup parties together

yourusername: you know it!!! user2: CONFIRMATION? IM DEVASTATED. RUINED. WALKING INTO THE OCEAN.

Liked by f1, astonmartinf1, and 375,599 others

fernandoalo_official Greece, you were beautiful🤩A few days off before it’s back to the track again! 🏎️

User3: Sir, I don’t know what you did, but you better fix it right the fuck now.

User4: how do you know it was his fault? we don't know anything yet User3: bc that woman is literally a saint, there’s no way it was her fault User5: don’t get me wrong, i love y/n so much, but there’s no way for us to know what happened. it might not have been anyones fault, and neither of them need this energy if they’re trying to get over their breakup :’( i’m rooting for both of them

Hater1: Always knew she was bad for you, congrats man!

astonmartinf1: see you soon, sir!

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yourusername been a little busy lately, but i’ve got something cooking for you all!

yourbsf2: love you so big <3

yourusername: i love you the biggest! 💓

alexandrasaintmleux: can’t wait for everyone else to hear it!!

user6: PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW!!!! 🙏 alexandrasaintmleux: 🤫

user 7: oh… this is gonna wreck me, isnt it.

lilymhe: yeah… you’ll thank her though

user8: the last photo 💔 i promise it gets easier, y/n

Liked by yourusername

Liked by finneas, coltonherta, yukitsunoda0511, and 516,785 others

yourusername remember when i said i had something cooking? my album ‘aegean’ is out now. a lot of love and hurt went into this album, and now it’s yours. i hope it means as much to you as it does to me <333

finneas: it was such a blast to work with you on this album, lets do it again soon!!

yourusername: yes please!

francisca.cgomes: so proud of you babe, just lmk when you want to run away and elope!

yourusername: my bags are packed and waiting! pierregasly: guess i’ll just leave you both to it 🧍

yourbsf2: wow look at how cool and pretty and talented my best friend is, everyone!!!

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

alexandrasaintmleux: still so excited!!! can we please go get late night ice cream to celebrate

yourbsf1: seconded francisca.cgomes: thirded! yourusername: ok to the groupchat before this is a long chain xx alexandrasaintmleux: as you wish, babe 👩‍❤️‍👩

user8: oh my god???? surprise drop???? queen behavior

user9: i’m not crying, YOU’RE crying!

user10: ur crying too, dont lie! user9: ok yeah. have you HEARD aegean? how could i not be screaming crying throwing up.

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, yourbsf1, and 228,531 others

lilymhe this amazing, beautiful girl did something amazing and beautiful again! y/n, i am so so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. please never let the hurt keep you down, because you are absolutely incredible. We will always be there to pick you back up if you need it! midnight ice creams with you are something i will cherish forever 🫶

tagged: yourusername, yourbsf1, your bsf2, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, maisiehpeters

yourusername: i love you sooo much lily <33333 thank you for being such an incredible friend

lilymhe: i love you forever 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

francisca.cgomes: pretty best friends stick together forever and ever

yourusername: men are temporary, girlfriends are forever

maisiehpeters: might need to move to monaco so i can come to every midnight ice cream from now on

lilymhe: you’re welcome every time!

user11: how do i get this kind of female friendship in my life? 🥺

yourusername: be kind, be yourself, and be open! your people will find you, user11 💕 user11: OMG HI QUEEN ILYSM KEEP BEING YOU!!! thank you so much!

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Fernando Alonso's Instagram messages

a/n: and that's my first fic! first smau too, so i hope the formatting isn't too bad? i love when reader is friends w the wags, but i also always love to have y/n have friends outside of the paddock, so i hope no one minded! sorry if any of the wags are ooc i just rlly needed a big group of girl friends for this and idk how normal people talk. also was this just propaganda for some of my fav songs/artists? maybe 🤭i'm actually super nervous about this, so i hope you all enjoyed!!! please send me any questions or comments you have!

the songs mentioned are:

While You Were Sleeping - Laufey

Black Hole - boygenius

Lovesick - Laufey

Goddess - Laufey

Wendy - Maisie Peters

anything - Adrianne Lenker

opposite - Sabrina Carpenter

Aegean - Push Baby

Mud - Delaney Bailey

things i wish you said - Sabrina Carpenter

(I Would Have Followed You) - Delaney Bailey

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #social media au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x female reader #f1 angst #f1 instagram au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso smau #fa14 #fa14 x reader #fa14 imagine #fa14 fanfic #fa14 fic

[lives-between-lines]

With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean - poly!marauders x slytherin!reader

─

Summary: Preparing for the dreaded OWLs proves to be a difficult task for one tightly-wound Slytherin. How do Remus, James, and Sirius each offer assistance, and how does she handle it?

Notes: No Voldemort, but pureblood elitism is still very much a thing. Story starts at the end of the Marauders and Reader’s fifth year. I don’t know the most about all the Marauders Era headcanons so I kind of did what I wanted, sorry if you don’t like it. 

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~7.8k

p.1

─

I huffed as I reached for another heavy book on the shelf from one of the dark back corners of the library. I wasn’t in the restricted section just yet, but getting close to it. Between the weight of the other five books stacked in my arm and the height of the shelf I was trying to reach I nearly dropped them all. 

“Careful, there, Princess. Might break something lugging around all those books,” someone said next to me. I nearly jumped as I hadn’t noticed anyone come down this same aisle. 

I shot a glare at him for startling me. It was none other than Remus Lupin, one of those pesky Gryffindors who was constantly fighting me for my space at the top of the class. My glare intensified when I realized who it was.

“Yes, and it would sure be a shame if I managed to drop these on your foot and break something there,” I snarked. 

He looked amused at me. “Whoa, Princess, no need to get feisty with me. I was just going to offer my assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance should I accept from you when you’re just as likely to try and trick me?” Lupin gave me a weary look. Typical of Gryffindors to think everyone is as blindly trusting as them.

“No tricks, Princess, just offering a bit of help,” he said with a shrug.

“Would you stop that? Stop calling me that,” I snapped at him before turning back to the book I needed. Before I could make a second attempt to reach for it, Remus stepped up next to me and I froze. But then he grabbed the book for me and set it on top of my stack then took a step back. 

“Not a fan of your nickname?” He was of course referring to me being known as Slytherin’s Princess. Sometimes I like to pretend the nickname came about because I’m always top of the class, making my house proud, but I know the real reason is because I come from a wealthy, pureblood, Slytherin family and everyone thought me rather spoiled. 

“I am not some simpering girl in need of a man to save her and it’ll do good for the people in this school to remember that.” Despite his significant height, I lifted my chin to Remus Lupin and dared him to say otherwise. 

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, nodding his head and holding up his hands. “But you are Slytherin’s Princess, aren’t you?” His eyes light up in amusement at my frustration. 

My nostrils flare as I hold back my anger. It doesn’t do me any good to blow up at some stupid Gryffindor, not when that is exactly what he wants and I am not in the business of giving Gryffindors what they want.

Instead, I turn to walk away. Take the high-ground as they say. 

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” Remus calls after me, quickly catching up to and following me. “Seriously, dove, I’m sorry. I was only joking. Please, let me help you with whatever on earth you could possibly need all these books for.”

I stop abruptly and turn toward him. “And why should I accept help from someone like you?” I nearly growl at him, barely holding back my frustrations.

Remus looks taken aback by my words. “Someone like me? You mean a half-blood?”

It’s my turn to be startled by him. “I mean a Gryffindor,” I bite out. This was exactly why I couldn’t stand this brutish group, they were always so quick to jump to outrageous assumptions, thinking the worst of someone like me just because I’m in Slytherin.

He looks relieved and confused at the same time, but I don’t really care to help him unpack his complex emotions about the exact reasoning behind why I don’t trust him. 

I dump my books down onto the table I had claimed earlier and began to scour the table of contents in the first one. Uninvited, Remus took the chair next to me and began looking over my shoulder at the book. 

“Can I help you, Lupin? Or are you just interested in being a nuisance?” 

“I’m glad to be a nuisance any day, but as I’ve said before I was actually hoping to help you.”

“And as I’ve said before I’m not looking for any help.” 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Is that this close to our OWLs you’re scouring books for something that you think you’ve missed, but you’ve been at the top of our classes all year, so I highly doubt you’ve managed to miss anything of real importance.” I give him a confused look, trying to discern how he’s figured me out so easily. Except he’s wrong, of course, I did somehow manage to lose the year a specific herb was realized to have certain medicinal properties. “So now I’m trying to answer the question of what does little miss Slytherin Princess think that she desperately needs to know, and will that really be the determining factor in her score on her OWLs?”

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening to me admitting defeat in front of a Gryffindor. “I don’t have the year we began to use hyssop to treat earaches,” I murmur. 

Remus’s face seems to fall at my admission. “That’s what you’re so concerned about? A minor herb’s medicinal use? Not even that, you already know that, but what year that was discovered? That is such a niche detail, there is absolutely no way Sprout asks us that.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously Sprout’s not going to ask us about that, it’s Binns that I’m worried about,” I explain. Although I really shouldn’t be giving my enemy any help in preparing for our upcoming tests. I was just as desperate to best him on these tests as I’m sure he was me. 

“Binns?” He asks, outraged. “Binns would never ask about that in a million years.”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that. We had a lecture on the history of medicinal herbs, hyssop was one of them.”

“And so you really think that from that one lecture he’s going to ask us when hyssop was discovered to help with earaches?”

“I was reviewing my notes and I had written down the year but it got smudged.”

“You’re actually a raving lunatic,” Remus tells me. He looks around the library like he might get up and leave, but then he turns back to me. “I realize these are the most important tests of the year, but I think you have way overestimated the difficulty of the questions that will be on them.”

“And I think you can never be too safe.”

We hold each other’s gaze for several moments. Remus finally blinks and then sighs. “Confound it all, fine. Hand me one.” He holds his hand out expectantly. 

I stare at him, confused. 

“Well? Are we going to look for this blasted year or not?” I blink out of my stupor and hand him one of the books I had grabbed. 

We sit in silence for a long while, pouring over the texts. The only sound in this part of the library is us turning pages. The first book I look through doesn’t contain my answer, and neither must the book Remus has. Although I am tempted to go back later and double check he didn’t find it and not tell me in an effort to trick me. 

After I get through two more books and Remus goes through three, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that had been nagging in the back of my head the entire time. 

“Why exactly are you helping me? Surely you’d much rather be focused on your own studying.”

Remus slowly pulls his attention away from the book in front of him. He blinks at me and then furrows his brows. “Sorry, I know you said something, I just didn’t quite catch what,” he admits. 

I can’t help the small laugh at his honesty. “Why are you helping me? I thought you’d want to be studying for your OWLs.”

“I am studying for my OWLs,” he replies, tauntingly. I roll my eyes at him. 

“Come on, you know what I meant,” I push. 

He shrugs and I think that’s going to be all the answer I get, then after a pause he says, “you’ve intrigued me. I’m curious now to find out when we started using hyssop for earaches.” There’s something about his tone that’s off, but I mark it down to him just teasing me. “Besides, I’m already plenty prepared to get a perfect score and take my spot at the top of the class.”

I laugh at his taunting. “Clearly not prepared enough if you’re not well versed in the history of hyssop,” I tease back. 

He gives me a winning smile and something in my chest stutters at it. I must just be unsettled by his obviously false flattery. 

“Can I ask you something in return?” He asks after a moment. 

I consider him, then reply, “I don’t promise to answer, but you’re welcome to ask.” 

He smiles again and this time it feels like my heart has been squeezed just a bit. “Well I suppose that’s fair. But are you always so…” he trails off and I get nervous at where he’s going with this. “Well, are you always so intense about knowing every little detail?” He finally finishes. 

It must be relief that floods my veins when he doesn’t ask anything backhanded or rude. I actually give him a smile before glancing down at my lap. 

“I have to be, don’t I? There’s one way to stay where I am and it’s by rigorous study,” I admit. 

“Is it really so important to stay at the top that you have to obsess like this, though?” 

I think back to what happened when I would slack off with my studies at home before coming to Hogwarts. I can’t help the way my face falls at the memories. 

“I suppose it might not be so important to a Gryffindor, but success is a high priority in Slytherin,” I finally respond. It seems when I don’t know how to react I lash out, although Remus is lucky to have caught me in a good mood as I let him off rather easily. 

Nonetheless he still looks a bit dejected by my response. I feel a bit bad for shutting him down when we had been starting to get along rather well. 

“We should probably focus on the matter at hand, though, if we ever want to find our answer before curfew,” I say, returning to the book in front of me. 

“Right…” Remus murmurs. Part of me expects him to leave at that point, after all that’s when everyone else does. He surprises me when he stays and doubles down his efforts. 

I open my mouth, to say what I’m not entirely sure. I close my mouth again when I realize that I want to apologize. There’s no way that Remus wants some half baked apology from me. 

Time passes in silence, the both of us occupied with our search, but my mind keeps wandering to the way I had snapped at Remus. I didn’t understand why he had sat down to help me, but I shouldn’t have antagonized him for asking a simple question. It wasn’t his fault that the answer wasn’t so simple. 

I can’t help stealing glances of him every few minutes, which significantly hinders my speed in reading my book, but Remus doesn't seem to notice and I can’t get myself to stop. This means that I notice almost immediately when Remus freezes suddenly. I try not to react, not wanting to have been caught looking.

“Holy shit!” He nearly shouts, someone nearby shushes him loudly, but he’s too busy jumping out of his seat to mind. “Oh, Merlin’s beard I actually found it!” He whispers loudly this time and pumps his fist. Standing at his height above me while I sit next to him I have to strain my neck to look up at his face, but it’s such a beautiful sight with how excited he is.

“You mean you actually found the year?” I ask, matching his excitement.

He nods enthusiastically at me then points to the line of text that contains the answer we’d spent hours searching for. “Yes, yes, look! It’s right there.”

We celebrate as quietly as we can and I quickly jot down the information into my notes. 

“Oh, thank you, Remus! You’ve just saved me probably three hours.” I stand to join him. It’s then that I finally check the time and realize just how close it is to curfew. “Ah, shit,” I murmur. “We should turn in for the night. I don’t fancy having a run-in with Filch tonight.”

“Let me walk you to your dorm?” Remus offers.

“What? It’s nearly curfew, you’ll risk getting in trouble with Filch. No, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my dorms for the night,” I reply firmly. 

“Don’t worry about me, dove, I can handle myself. Let me walk you to your dorm.” This time Remus sounds more like he’s telling me than asking me. Nevertheless I nod in agreement and we make our way to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. 

On the way down, Remus teases me lightly about how obsessed I must be to dedicate so much effort into finding such a small detail. I tease him back about him being a nerd for helping me look for the answer. It’s lighthearted and easy and part of me thinks I could get used to having Remus as a friend. Another part of me questions what it would look like for me to be friends with a Gryffindor and whether my parents would approve or not. Then the first part kicks the second part for being such a self-obsessed ass. 

Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room I wave goodbye to Remus and wish him a good night. I try not to blush when he calls me “dove,” and dart into the safety of the common room. 

─

The next few weeks Remus seems to make it a habit of running into me in the library when I would otherwise be alone. In the past I had tried studying with Narcissa or Andromeda but the pair of them had bad habits of wanting to chat while I wanted to actually study, so my time in the library had previously been spent alone. 

Remus was different, though. He understood my desire to focus on the material in front of me and not whether or not his hair was looking frizzier than normal. 

Before I knew it I had come to rather enjoy his company. It felt almost reassuring that there was someone else who was similarly interested in studying, but wanted to do it with me. Somehow it was like studying at the same table as him made studying that much better, even if nothing of substance had changed. 

─

On a Saturday morning, a couple weeks before we were to begin taking our OWLs, I went out to the Black Lake just before the sun rose. I had slept fitfully, getting more and more nervous for the tests ahead of me. There was so much pressure to do good on these, I didn’t know what I would do if I were anything less than perfect. 

I don’t know why exactly I came out here, I just knew that I needed fresh air. Without much else of a plan, I sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled out my wand. I practiced a couple small charms and transfigurations on the branches and rocks around me. 

“I’d say that rock doesn’t stand a chance against you, but I’d like to know what it did to deserve such treatment in the first place.”

I dropped the spell I had been using to propel the rock in the air and it fell swiftly. There likely wasn’t anyone in the school who I would not have been shocked to see, but I was especially shocked it was none other than James Potter. He’s a fairly popular boy my age in Gryffindor, mostly known for his outspokenness and disruptive behavior. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he’s actually friends with Remus Lupin.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I can’t help but ask.

“I could ask the same of you,” he points out. I finally take him in at that moment. He’s wearing loose shorts and an old Gryffindor quidditch t-shirt that he’s cut the bottom half off to show off his athletic build. His curly hair is a mess atop his head, but I get the notion it’s always like that. When I meet his eyes I’m struck by how blue they are that I can notice even with him standing several feet in front of me. I can’t help but think to myself how pretty he is. He gives me a dorky smile, as if used to the attention but still not sure how to respond.

“Couldn’t sleep so well. Thought some fresh air would do me some good,” I finally answer, not acknowledging how I’d just been looking at him.

“Some fresh air and tormenting rocks?” He teases.

“Is that all you think we Slytherins do? Torment everything?” I huff. 

His face twists at my response. “No, no that’s not what I meant at all. It was just a joke, most people laugh at them.”

I sigh and lean back against the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit on edge,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to open up to this next to perfect stranger.

James takes a few steps closer and I tense up, but he just takes a seat next to me under the tree. “What’s got you so on edge?” 

“Is that another one of your jokes? The OWLs obviously.”

“Oh, right. I suppose those are coming up soon.” He pauses and tears some grass in front of him. “What’re you stressed over those for?” 

My brows pinch together and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re only the most important tests of the entire school year, of our entire schooling career thus far! These will determine our entire futures.”

It’s James’s turn to look at me like I’m crazy. “They’re just another test, though. And I really don’t see how they’ll determine our entire futures,�� he says plainly. 

I scoff and roll my eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to blow off something so important. 

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole thing about being perfect in every subject and staying ahead of everyone else, so I’ll make you a deal.” I turn to him, my interest piqued. “If you do any less than perfect on each of your OWLs, I’ll turn all the professor’s hair purple,” he offers.

My jaw drops at his suggestion. “What on earth would that accomplish?”

“Well I figure people won’t be talking about what grade you got on your OWLs if they’re too busy talking about Dumbledore with a lilac beard,” he’s laughing even as he says it. I laugh, too, at that image. 

“Make it bright pink and I’ll help you,” I reply through giggles. 

James gives me his award-winning dorky smile and I can’t tear my eyes away. 

“Seriously, though, I’ll bet you’ve already gotten perfect scores on every other test this year, there can’t be anyone else more prepared than you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, not used to outright compliments that weren’t also an insult. My gaze falls to where James is still fiddling with the grass. “A bit antsy, are you?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to work on that. I actually came out here to go for a run, it helps me burn some of my extra energy before the day so I can focus a bit better.”

I can’t imagine wanting to start the day by burning through energy, I often woke up with barely enough to make it through the day. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to be keeping you. I can go back inside if you want to run by yourself,” I offer and even before I finish talking, I’m pushing to stand up. 

“No, no you’re fine!” He’s quick to reassure me. “Please, stay. Actually if you want you could join me, it might help you clear your mind.”

I consider for a moment before deciding to agree. There couldn’t be much harm in it, it was still at least another hour before most people would get up for the day and I didn’t have anything better to do. 

While we run I can’t help glancing over to James, who’s clearly in his own world.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, slowly illuminating our path. At one point the sun is behind James when I steal another glance at him, and the way the light catches on his features makes him look like a real life angel.

James proves to be right, the run did help me to clear my mind. When we stop back where we had started I’m feeling significantly lighter than before, even if I am breathing significantly heavier. 

“That was… fun,” I am slow to admit. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Anytime, darling.” He gives me another goofy smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like, I come out at the same time everyday.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

─

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take James Potter up on his offer every day for a week straight. I quickly come to enjoy the ritual of it, waking up before dawn, sneaking out of my dorm, getting the fresh air and clearing my mind before the day. 

James’s presence was a reassuring one, even if we didn’t always talk much. I had the sense that he would listen to anything I needed to say and offer encouragement. 

As our OWLs loom ever closer I come to rely on our runs to center me in the mornings more and more, but I also question how long James will continue to let me join him. He never says anything to indicate he doesn’t want me to join, though, so I take him at face value and keep meeting him under our tree every morning. 

─

The night before we’re to start our OWLs I find myself unable to sleep for even a minute. Of course this wasn’t a problem for my dorm mates who had fallen asleep at least two hours ago. 

I toss and turn, thinking that maybe if I could just get comfortable I could get to sleep. Of course I have no such luck. Eventually I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. 

I don’t have to worry about being too quiet as I climb out of my bed, pull on a jumper, and slip on my sneakers. I’ve mastered this routine from sneaking out for my morning runs. 

Two years prior Narcissa was sniffling and sneezing her brains out, but didn’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey for medicine. Andromeda insisted we could take care of her ourselves, she just needed a good, hot cup of tea to clear her system. I never knew where she learned it, but she showed me a way to slip into the kitchens undetected. She then showed me which cabinet to find the herbs in, and also which herbs were the right ones. And then she showed me how to use the kettle. 

It was amazing how much better Narcissa was able to sleep after she finished her cup of tea, and the next day she was right as rain. I quickly became obsessed with the simple magic behind a “good cup of tea” and asked Andromeda to tell me everything she knew about the different recipes and ingredients. When her knowledge proved to be rather limited I went on a rampage in the library until I was satisfied─ a good two weeks later. 

My plan was a simple blend to help me sleep and settle my nerves. Chamomile and cinnamon was sounding particularly tasty, although I was considering whether I might like lavender with rosemary more. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice at first there was already someone else in the kitchens. Thankfully when I did I only jumped a little. 

Confused, I stared at Sirius Black as he took a kettle off one of the stoves. He gave me an amused look in return. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He guessed.

“No, I’m quite afraid not.”

He gave me a sad smile in understanding. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cup,” he offered. I can’t say why I listened, but I did. Maybe in a moment of weakness before a highly stressful event I didn’t care that I didn’t know him much, I just wanted to let someone take care of me. 

“Any preference on what kind?” He asks.

“Hmm, I was debating between chamomile with cinnamon or lavender with rosemary,” I say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I proceed to list off my many thoughts on the benefits of each ingredient and what might best suit my current situation. 

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice that Sirius has made a decision for me and already started steeping the herbs in the water. I’ve somehow veered off onto what might make a good combination if Sirius was having a headache, or if his headache was caused by a cold and he had other symptoms what could help with that. 

To his credit, he never once interrupts or even looks bored. In fact the entire time he seems to regard me with mild amusement, and I begin to get the impression that everything he encounters in life amuses him. 

I don’t even stop rambling about tea when he sets my cup in front of me. After taking a sip, I start to tell him how very fond I am of lemon balm, then pause when I finally realize the cup of tea is already made. 

For the first time since Sirius asked what kind of tea I wanted, he is finally given a chance to say something. “Are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Ravenclaw?”

I scoff at his suggestion. “Don’t be absurd, Slytherins can be just as studious as Ravenclaws, we just typically hold our cards a little closer to our chest.”

“Right.” He nods. “This was you holding your cards close to your chest?” He then questions.

“Well it’s not like there’s any great secret behind tea. And besides, even if I haven’t been able to sleep I am quite tired.” A yawn escapes me just then to prove my point. “Narcissa always complains about my tendency to ramble when I’m tired.”

“Why would she complain? I found it rather entertaining,” he says, lightheartedly. Even though his tone has a hint of joking to it, I feel like he’s being honest. 

I give him a small smile before taking another sip from my cup. It’s still quite hot, but the flavors are still strong. “Mmm, this is quite delicious,” I compliment. “Is it chamomile with… rosemary?” 

Sirius gives me a proud grin. “Ten points to Slytherin,” he jokes. A smile falls on my face. 

“What have you made for yourself?” I ask, glancing at his cup. 

“Vanilla and rose.” 

“That sounds lovely. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“James’s mum makes it for us all the time. Do you want to try a sip?” He offers. I nod quickly and he passes over his cup. Sure enough it’s a delightful mixture. I tell him such and he tells me the measurements so that I can make it for myself. 

“So what’s keeping you up on this otherwise peaceful night?” Sirius asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. He looks at me dumbly, confused as to what the obvious answer might be. “We start our OWLs tomorrow,” I scoff. 

“Merlin, you can’t really be this stressed about it.” He sounds disbelieving, though I’m not sure why. 

“I can and I am,” I say, matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes and turns to begin putting away the tea kettle. “Why are you up, if not because of the OWLs?” I then ask.

“Not for any good reason. Have always had trouble sleeping,” he says, but the tightness in his voice, and the way he tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear tells me there’s something else he doesn’t want to share. I can’t fault him for that, though. “Which of your OWLs do you feel most prepared for?” He asks after a moment of tense silence. 

It throws me off for just a second. Most people want to know which test I’m most nervous for, want to know what area I’m weakest in, where the chip in my armor is so that they might strike there. I consider for a moment, not wanting to say something that I end up bombing. Eventually, I decide on my favorite subject. Sirius seems to accept that answer without pushing any further, so I turn it on him. 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answers almost immediately. “I want to be an auror,” he brags. 

I roll my eyes at the proud smirk on his face. “Of course you do.”

“Well? What do you want to be?” Sirius asks as if expecting a lame answer such as archivist. 

“My parents want me to be an alchemist,” I reply in what I would guess is a lame answer.

“That’s great for them, what do you want to be, though?” Looking into his eyes at that moment feels as if he’s staring into my soul. 

“I… I don’t know,” I mumble slowly and my brows furrow. I can’t help but look at my cup of tea, half empty at this point. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before, not when it came to something so major. It was always assumed I would follow the path my parents laid for me. 

When I find the courage to look back up to Sirius he has a sympathetic look on his face. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap.

In return, Sirius’s face pinches in anger. “I wasn’t looking at you any type of way,” he defends.

“Yes, you were, you had this look on your face like you were sad for me,” I accuse. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“I’m not sad for you─”

“Good, because you have no reason to be. My life is great and everything is perfectly fine.” The way I say it even Sirius can tell that I’m trying to convince myself more than him at this point. I let out a frustrated sigh. I want to say something about how I’m a great witch and I’m meant to be an alchemist, but another voice in my head whispers to explain how I really feel.

“Look,” I start, then trail off. 

“It’s complicated,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I’m sure you know about my family, you know I get it.” His voice is so soft as he talks to me, as if I’m a frightened animal. But despite my flaws I am still a Slytherin, and I do not appreciate being treated like a frightened animal. 

“Leave it to a Gryffindor to be so self-absorbed they assume everyone knows their tragic tale of woe. Maybe instead of staying up late to make tea and trying to relate to girls you hardly know you should work on your form for your smokescreen spell.” The words spill out of me before I even consider them. I don’t even take the time to be shocked at my outburst. Instead I storm off. 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk about self-absorbed, Princess!” He shouts at my back. I nearly flinch at the nickname, but keep going out of the kitchens and straight back up to my dorm.

─ 

The morning before the first day of our OWLs testing I follow my same routine. I wake up early to run with James, and he tries to ask if I’m feeling alright, but I brush him off and neither of us acknowledges the way I push myself harder on this run than I ever had before. 

After our run, I go back up to my dorm to shower and get ready for the day. My dorm mates still haven’t caught on yet that I’ve started getting up hours earlier. They do ask if I’m feeling flush and press their hands to my forehead, though. I shove them off with a grumbled, “I’m fine,” and shove my things for the day into my bag. 

In the Great Hall I can hardly stomach a plain slice of toast, but I just manage to get it down with some orange juice. I feel a bit queasy, but today is too important to pay that feeling any mind. 

On my way to the first test of the day, I think back to Remus’s reassuring words from our study session the night before. 

“Look, I know trying to reassure you that you’ll do great won’t get through to you, even if I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Remus says softly, almost hesitantly. “Instead I hope you know that it will be okay if you aren’t perfect.” My heart hits my stomach and I drop my quill. I start to shut down, prepare to lash out. Why would he say that? He thinks I won’t be perfect? 

“Maybe other people will have different opinions, but I will still be your friend and I know that everything will turn out okay for you.”

Oh. My heart flutters back to life. We’re friends? 

For once in my life, I do not lash out at someone for trying to get closer to me, for saying something honest that I wasn’t ready to hear. 

I give him a sad smile. “Thanks, Remus.” I pause for a long moment. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” I whisper. Then, because I’m not sure how to proceed after that, I stiffly turn back to my notes. Remus, ever the gentleman, goes back to his book and doesn’t push me any further. 

I don’t think anyone had ever told me before that it was okay to be anything less than perfect, but his words become my mantra for the day. 

“It will be okay if I’m not perfect,” I think to myself as I walk into the classroom. 

I take a seat next to Narcissa. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

The professor instructs us to start. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I read over every question three times. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I double check each of my answers. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I finish the last question. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I walk up to the front of the class and turn in my test. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

As I leave the classroom I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

My stomach begins to churn and I walk straight to the nearest bathroom, into one of the stalls, and promptly begin to lose my breakfast. I hear the door open behind me when I’ve stopped heaving. 

“Think you’ve found yourself in the wrong bathroom, Princess,” someone says mockingly. Footsteps come closer to me. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind me, so I’m able to turn and see Sirius Black. Again. I give him a horrified look. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing in the girls’ room?” I nearly shout at him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s walked into the boys’ room,” he informs me. I give him a disbelieving look until he shifts and my gaze falls on a line of urinals behind him. My face blushes profusely and I stare at Sirius, mortified. He gives me a pitying look. “It’s okay, pretty girl, you’re clearly not feeling well. Stay there for a moment.”

Still in shock, I stay put. I hear the sink running for a moment, then Sirius comes back with a damp towel. He hands it to me to wipe my face. 

“Thanks,” I murmur. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies. With a tender hand, he helps me to my feet when I’m ready. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, then.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. It must’ve just been something I had at breakfast,” I lie. 

Sirius gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve clearly worried yourself sick and we both know it.”

I don’t reply as I follow him out of the bathroom. My plan was to start going in the direction of the hospital wing, then double back to the library to keep studying. Sirius’s plan was to follow me.

“I’m more than capable of walking myself to the hospital wing,” I say tersely. 

“And I’m more than capable of walking with you. I’m glad we’ve determined our abilities for this excursion.” 

I shoot him a glare that would scare off most other people. Sirius doesn’t even blink at me. My new plan: ignore Sirius as he insists on walking me to see Pomfrey. 

“How did you feel about it?” He asked after a moment. 

I don’t respond. 

“I personally thought some of the questions were a bit repetitive, like I had to explain myself multiple times.” 

I stay strong. 

“But maybe that’s a bad sign that I didn’t do as good as I thought.” 

Just keep staring straight ahead, he has to shut up eventually, I think to myself. 

“On the second question─”

“Would you just shut up already?” I snapped. I was stressed enough over how I did without reliving it with someone I didn’t even like. 

Sirius holds his hands up defensively. “Someone’s cranky,” he says with a laugh.

“I am not cranky, I just don’t particularly care to discuss the test with you.” My eyes roll of their own volition. 

“What should you care to discuss then?” He asks. 

“With you? Not much.” Maybe if I can discourage him enough he’ll grow bored and wander off. 

“It’s a bit of a trek to the hospital wing from here, though, and I’ve found conversation to be a great way to pass time.” Of course, I should know that Gryffindors are not so easily discouraged.

“I’ve found that there’s no reason for you to walk all the way to the hospital wing with me.” 

“Wow, are you like this all the time?” He finally snaps back.

“Like what?” I pretend to be ignorant. 

He scoffs at me. “Rude, Princess. Are you always so rude?”

I flare up at the nickname. The way he says it, it feels like he knows I don’t like it. 

“Nobody asked you to pester me,” I say. 

“Most people would consider this an act of kindness, not pestering.”

“How unfortunate for you that I am not like most people.” 

“It would do you a bit of good to learn something from them, maybe you could start with some manners.”

“I’m perfectly well mannered, thank you very much. You’re the one who didn’t listen when I told you I was fine to walk by myself, and you’re the one working yourself up by staying with me when you could bug off to literally anywhere else.” With that I begin to speed up to leave him behind.

Sirius actually stops for just a moment, as if really considering my words. Then he rushes to catch up to me. “No, I want to know what’s so bloody great about you,” he says. 

I give him a strange look. “I never claimed for anything to be so great about me.”

“Maybe not but you sure act like it, so tell me: what is so bloody great about you? What makes you so special that you think yourself better than everyone else here?”

It’s my turn to stop in my tracks. “Who the hell said I think I’m better than everyone?”

“No one has to say it, Princess.” The way he says Princess feels like venom on his tongue. 

I want to hit him. Punch him in the face and give him a great bloody nose. I want to hex him. Maybe knock him off his feet. I want to scream at him. Scream that I don’t think myself better than everyone, that I’m just an imposter pretending to be perfect all the time. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

Tears start to well in my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was eleven and my family was getting ready to drop me off at Hogwarts for the first time. 

“Do not cry, darling, it’s unbecoming,” my mother says to me. “Soon you will be sorted into Slytherin and prepare to continue your family’s legacy. You must show strength at all times, even if you do not feel it. We can not be perceived as weak.”

A single tear snakes out of the corner of my eye and down the apple of my cheek. I look down and it falls to the ground by my feet. Another tear falls, and before I know it I am fully crying. I start to struggle to breathe. 

When I look back up to Sirius he looks terrified. He must think he’s what’s made me cry. The truth is it’s the last five years that have built up to weigh on me continually. It’s the way my life was gilded and no one had ever cared to look below the surface until a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin offered to help me study. Until James Potter offered to go for a run. Until Sirius Black offered me a cup of tea. 

My quiet tears begin to turn into choked sobbing as I realize how sad my life really was, that these three Gryffindors had shown me a kind of genuine caring that I hadn’t known could exist. 

Hesitantly, Sirius takes my hand to lead me over to a nearby bench so I can sit down and try to collect myself. It takes several minutes for me to control my breathing, and several more for my tears to subside. I finally look down to notice that I’m still holding Sirius’s hand, that I’d actually been holding it quite firmly. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I release his hand from my grasp. “You were right. Everything is so very complicated.”

Sirius gives me that same look he did last night, and I realize. He wasn’t sad for me, he understood me. But how was it fair that he would get to leave, when his brother and I were left behind with our authoritarian families? Selfishly, I think maybe he could show me the way.

I sit there, lost in my thoughts, for a long while. Sirius stays with me. Eventually the bells toll to indicate it was time for lunch. When I glance up at Sirius, he’s already looking at me. 

“Can I make you an offer?” He asks. 

I grow weary at his words. “I would suppose that depends on what the offer is.”

“Well, your eyes are red and swollen and you’ve got mascara tracked down your cheeks,” he starts and I grow horrified as I realize what I must look like. There was no way I could go into the Great Hall looking like the mess I surely am. He lets out a small laugh at my expression. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll grab us some lunch from the Great Hall. We can meet in the south courtyard.”

I was amazed that even after I’d been so mean to him, he would still be so kind to me. 

“That would be quite nice actually. Thank you,” I reply softly. 

Sirius gives me a swift nod, then helps me to stand up. We go our separate ways, me to my dorm to wash my face and apply some fresh mascara and concealer, and Sirius to the Great Hall. 

─

I’ve just sat down in a corner of the courtyard for a couple minutes when Sirius shows up. I try not to look too shocked when James and Remus appear with him. Of course, I knew they were all friends, they went galavanting around the entire school proclaiming themselves marauders, but I’d never interacted with all three of them together. 

It suddenly occurs to me that they likely share a dorm, and very well could have planned this all to be some grand prank on me. But they had all seemed so genuinely kind to me until this point, and I was so tired of constantly second guessing everyone’s intentions. I decided that if this were some prank I would let them have their fun at me, then show them the real wrath of Slytherin. 

The three of them quickly set up a small picnic and begin lighthearted conversation. James compliments the way my hair looks today. Sirius teases James for the way his hair looks everyday, although I would argue it flatters him I don’t say that aloud. Remus gives me a knowing look as the two begin bickering. 

Spending time with the three of them is easy, and feels right. Like it was always meant to be the four of us all together. None of them mentions my earlier breakdown, or even anything to do with our tests. I wonder what Sirius told them before they all came out here. Whatever it was, none of them shows me any judgment so I can guess he must have skipped over my rude behavior. 

I’m sad when the bells ring again to signify the end of lunch. We clean up our area of the courtyard, then head back inside. Over the course of my time with the boys I feel my spirits lifted significantly, feeling much better and ready to face the next two weeks of tests. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect, I think to myself again, and this time I really do believe it. Because even if I’m only just getting to know Remus, James, and Sirius, I know that they are my friends and they’ll be there for me.

#poly!marauders x slytherin!reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders #marauders era #slytherin!reader #slytherin #remus lupin x sirius black #remus lupin x james potter #james potter x sirius black #harry potter fandom

[winwintea]

how dreamies would react to helping you with your homework

REQUEST ▸ how dreamies would react to having to help with your homework?

PAIRING ▸ friend!dreamies x reader 

TAGS ▸ none, crack, most of them are confused af and very unhelpful, DO NOT TAKE ANY OF THEIR ADVICE ESPECIALLY CHENLE’S…

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ anon i lost your ask somehow… it appeared on my computer but now i can’t find it but i still remember it! i apologize if the formatting is weird this time lol i’m writing this on my phone 😭

Mark Lee

marks TRIES to help you with your homework. emphasis on ‘TRIES’ cause we all know he is no help at all. you ask him a question about the problem as you’re both attempting it together and he looks at you with the most confused look you have ever seen, “i was just about to ask you the exact same thing…” you two are probably never going to figure it out, so good luck getting your homework done tonight!

Huang Renjun

renjun is an actually good tutor. of course he’s going to walk you through all the steps on how to solve the problems and then discuss with you the subject better at hand, “I think it’s 47… stay focused y/n!” renjun’s the best study buddy, and even if he doesn’t understand the subject well, he’ll try his best to understand and learn on his own, just so he can teach you better.

Lee Jeno

jeno. poor jeno. he’s trying his best too okay? “why are there… letters… isn’t this math?” he hasn’t had much education past a basic high school level, so anything beyond that bewilders him, “we used to solve… much different problems… back when i was a kid” (okay boomer) next time remember that jeno and statistics do not work well together!

Lee Donghyuck

haechan looks at the problems for a few seconds before deciding that is simply something he does not want to attempt at all. “you know… you don’t need school!” he throws the pencil down on the table in a fit, “who needs school anyways?” haechan glances at the work then back at you, “there are so many other options on the table! just drop out!”

Na Jaemin

jaemin is great for emotional support! not the best for helping, but at least he’s there cheering you on from the sides. he’ll take a look at you with a happy smile on his face, “you’re doing great!” but then as soon as he looks back at the problem you’re currently attempting he arches his brows into a look of pure confusion. he’s just as clueless as you are, but at least he can be your cheerleader!

Zhong Chenle

chenle gets quite impatient with how slow you’re doing the problems, “wrong… wrong again…” until eventually he snatches the paper across from your seat and mumbles to himself, “you know what, give it to me…” you two sit in silence as Chenle does the homework for you, but before he finishes he looks at you again dead serious, “why don’t you just cheat?”

Park Jisung

jisung was everywhere but school… so what you even expect this man will do to help you study? “what’s the purpose of this again?” he asks as he lets out a big yawn, and stretches in his chair, rocking back and forth impatiently as you attempt the problem yourself. jisung watches as you struggle for a couple of seconds before grumbling to himself, “just tell your professor it doesn’t make sense… i don’t know… you can gaslight him, you’re good at that.”

#nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct #nct dream imagine #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung #mark lee #lee donghyuck #lee jeno #park jisung #na jaemin #huang renjun #zhong chenle #chenle #renjun #jisung #jeno #haechan #jaemin #nct hard hours #nct dream reactions

[burntheedges]

remember this

Din Djarin x gn!reader | 837 words | masterlist | ao3

prompt: last kiss -- Din kisses you.

a/n: This is for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! Jana gave me the banner and the prompt 'last kiss' and ouch, this one hurt. Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for looking over it it, as always 🧡

The tags/warnings spoil it a bit, just a heads up if that matters to you.

tags/warnings: kissing, angst, space battle mentioned, ambiguous ending (possible character death)

...

There’s a battle being fought above you as you and Din run together towards the Crest. Ships of all different shapes and sizes scream as they zip overhead and the sound of phaser fire makes you duck more than once. You wince as one smaller ship takes a hit and goes careening off into the desert, crashing out of sight behind a rocky outcropping. 

“Din! Wait,” you catch his hand just as he taps something on his vambrace to lower the ramp. “We need to wait for Greef–”

But he’s shaking his head. “You go with Karga. I’ll make sure you can take off safely.”

You stop short, hand tightening around his as every part of you rejects the idea of separating from him for even a moment. Your head starts to shake back and forth before you respond. “Din, no, I won’t–”

“Cyar’ika–”

“I won’t leave you.” You say it as firmly as you can, lacing your fingers through his. You don’t have time for this, neither of you do, not when he needs to be in the air half an hour ago, not when he needs to get up there and help. 

Din turns towards you and takes your other hand, holding them both between you. “Cyar’ika. Listen to me.” You shake your head but he pulls you closer until your forehead touches his helmet gently. “Please. Karga is going to get you out, to Grogu. You have to go with him and pick up our son, keep him away from this. I will make sure you can do that.”

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the way it’s starting to sound like goodbye. You don’t like that this is the first time Din has referred to his son as yours, too.

“I won’t, Din. We need you with us, too.”

For a moment neither of you speak. Din drops your hands and lifts his head, and you make a noise of protest that dies in your throat when you see what he’s doing.

He’s taking his helmet off.

You close your eyes, panicked, and begin to ramble. “What are you doing? Anyone could see– Din, no–”

“Hey,” his unmodulated voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey, c’mere.” He tugs you forward with a soft grip on your forearm, gently pulling your hand away from your face. “Cyar’ika. Open your eyes. Please.”

“Din–”

“Trust me. Please.”

His voice is so calm, so certain, you can only do as he asks. You open your eyes slowly to find the face of the man you love looking back at you, so long awaited, so beloved even though you’d believed you’d never get to see it.

He’s even more handsome than you imagined.

“Din,” you breathe, not a protest this time, but a gasp, full of wonder, eyes dancing over his features. His eyes, so warm, and he has a mustache, which makes you smile. He smiles back at you, and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

His right hand comes up to cup your face. “Hi there,” he murmurs. “Cyar’ika, listen to me. Go with Karga. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll take you to Grogu.” You shake your head again, once, but he stops you with his hand on your cheek. “I will follow. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the hesitance in his voice, for that last promise.

“Din–” this time he cuts off your protest in the only way guaranteed to stop you from stubbornly refusing to be parted from him.

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours. Your mind stumbles, spins, thrown by the sensation you’ve only dreamed of before this moment. His lips are soft but firm, warm and so much like him. You open your mouth to him and briefly sink into the long-desired feeling of kissing the man you love for the first time.

All too soon, he breaks the kiss.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika,” Din murmurs against your lips, already pulling away from you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more than this, I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” He presses forward for one last kiss. “Remember this, alright? Remember this feeling.”

He steps backwards out of your arms and his hand slips from your cheek. You’re frozen, staring in disbelief with your arm outstretched, reaching for him as he turns from you and tugs his helmet back on. Before your brain comes back online he’s already inside with the ramp shut.

Your lips are still tingling, but as much as you wonder if you’ll ever feel anything but his kiss ever again, it isn’t the last thing you feel. It’s the wind that kicks up as his ship lifts off, whipping around you and throwing dust into the air.

The last thing you see is the explosion that blooms across the night sky, the last thing you hear is your own scream as you fall to your knees in the sandy soil.

...

a/n: Who am I? Writing angst? It’s Jana’s fault. I’ll let you decide if he’s coming back.

taglist: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin

@myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites

@fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes

@islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

@littlevenicebitch69 @secretelephanttattoo @pigeonmama @vickie5446 @sunnytuliptime

@glizzymcguirex @verymiraclemiracle @friskispunk @jennaispunk @brittmb115

(if the tag isn't working check your settings and whether you allow people to tag you)

tagging some folks who might be interested: @djarins-cyare @davnittbraes @the-mandawhor1an

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #angst #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #remember this fic

[ghostybaby000]

Never Yours | Part 4

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: He had seen blood hundreds of times before, but never from you. He didn't know what to expect while listening to your cry's on the phone praying you wouldn't loose consciousness.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+, violent theme, weaponry use, blood, symptoms of panic.

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies! My internet is also down for now, so posts may not be consistent)

You adjust yourself to be seated more upright, again clearing your throat. Letting go of Simons hand for a moment you rub the tiredness from your eyes and take in several deep breaths. Replacing your hand and Simons in your lap, you begin.

‘I was trying to get things ready for dinner. Setting the table, cleaning the countertops, finishing the dishes. Someone knocked on the door so I set my dish down in the sink and made my way to the door to check the peephole. He was in uniform, some company uniform it…It looked so real.’ Your voices begins to fade out as the lump in your throat became harder to swallow. You shake your head to clear the thoughts, knowing that Simon would need to know the information at some point nonetheless. You take a long breath and squeeze his hand as you push on. 

‘I opened the door a crack and he said that he was a home inspector of some kind when I’d asked. I remember he was knowledgeable of the company and what it was about, not that I’m remembering much now. I told him…I tried to tell him that he could come back another time and that we were busy. That’s when I knew something was off.’ Another pause that allowed you to take in more air your lungs suddenly needed desperately, Simons eyes giving the strength to continue. 

‘He was so much taller, bigger than I was- I didn’t want to be alone with him, and my gut agreed. He insisted that he would check some part of the house as an annual inspection and he tried to open the door more…I-I pushed as hard as I could to shut it, and I almost had it. Everything moved so fast after that. I knew he wasn’t true to his title and that I was in danger, so I tried again to close the door with all my strength but It wasn’t enough…’ Simons hand drew you out of your mind as he thumbed over the top side of your hand. His jaw was set firm and his knee had entirely stopped bouncing. He nodded to you letting you know to continue although you knew that if you didn’t want to, he would never make you.

‘He had pushed hard to get inside against my efforts, so when he tried to do a much bigger push I let the weight of the door go and he came barreling inside. He didn’t fall but took a moment to turn and close the door, I heard him lock it. I tried to run as fast as I could, I just felt so panicked it’s like my legs were jelly. I made it to the stairs where I got up before him and to the bedroom, and I noticed he wasn’t running after me- like he knew I wouldn’t get away by running…’ Again the thoughts in your mind became a storm as you wiped a falling tear, trying to steady your breathing. Your voice went on slow, taking time to recall the events as best your mind would allow you to. 

‘I grabbed my phone off the bed and went into the bathroom as quietly as I could, I had your number dialed when he kicked in the door and grabbed me around my neck.’ Your hand reached up to touch the tender spot where bruises had formed. ‘He hit me across the face and I fell backwards, and then he hit me again when I made my way to the ground. From here it gets fuzzy, I know I passed out and I’m not sure for how long. All I knew is that when I woke up I heard him rummaging through the house, and then his steps. He bounded up the stairs again for the bathroom and he saw that I was conscious. His figure is blurry when I think of it, but he was tall and had dark hair.’ You were straining your mind to try and recall what the man had looked like, your head began to ache so instead you pressed on. 

‘The next thing I knew I…I saw him over me and felt a horrible burning followed by a wetness that wasn’t like water, it was warmer. He ran from the room and then the house, fleeing the scene. I couldn’t sit up and felt really dizzy, and then the pain set in. I’d never felt pain like that, so sudden and unending…. I saw my phone and made a reach for it but I just couldn’t get it in my hands. I could barely click call for your number…The next thing I know I’m here with you in the hospital.’ Simon was deep in his thoughts, a tear stain running down his left cheek. 

He takes a deep inhale that sounds stammered as you touch his arm and speak out to him. ‘I’m here, and safe now.’ Simons gaze doesn’t meet yours, his face only growing more stern- he was angry. You pull your hand from him to turn his face towards yours.

‘Simon. I’m here. I’m here looking at you and listening to you. You saved me, you are the reason I am alive.’ Your eyes darted between Simons as he looked into yours although they didn’t light up in the way they typically would if you had said something of a similar manner, his mind was elsewhere. He tugged a grin across his face and then his husky voice met your ears. 

‘I am the reason…’ His voice fell short in his throat before he could continue. He tore his eyes from yours to look at the floor and then back to you. He took a short breath and started again in a better tone, although you knew he wasn’t saying what he wanted. 

‘You need to rest my dove, it’s going to be the best thing for your recovery and that’s whats important.’ He stood just slightly to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. You knew that arguing his thoughts would be no use and decided he was right, within minutes you had fallen asleep.  

Once your eyes began to dart underneath your eyelids, he knew that you were in a deep enough sleep that you wouldn’t stir if he had left. Simon rose to his feet and made his way out of the room silently, closing the door behind him. He didn’t like leaving you at all, but his anger for the man that harmed you outweighed the need to stay. 

He rings Price as he gets to the parking garage where he moved the car after the doctors had taken you. The ring goes on for a moment, before he hears him on the other end.

‘What have you got for me?’ Simons voice is lower, a scary calm that would send chills down anyone’s spine. Price took a long breath on the other side before responding to Simon, he could hear him leave a group of other people for privacy. 

‘I’ve managed to find who we think it is, and we might have a location I told you I would call when I found him.’ Prices voice rings with leadership and power, he wants to keep Simon from loosing his head all the while bringing justice to you who was harmed. 

‘Where is he?’ Simon starts the car and begins to make his way out of the lot. Price sighs, a mutual agreement that Simon would be relentless in getting to the man no matter the odds. 

‘I’ve already got men headed to the location Simon, and I’ll tell you when we’ve got him’ 

‘I want him myself.’ Simons voice is stern, and Price understands his determination more than he lets on. The team he’s sent should already be there by now, so there was no harm in allowing Simon to go, there would be others there to step in if things got out of control.

*ding* Simon takes a moment to pull the phone from his ear and see the text from Price, the location. 

‘Thank you.’ Simon hangs up the phone before Price can respond, the sound of the car filling his ears as he made his way around a turn headed the right direction. 

When he pulled into the abandoned apartment duplex, he found 2 more vehicles parked outside and recognized them as part of his own team. He saw their flashlights in the windows as they were searching the first story of the building, they hadn’t found him yet. 

Simon parked a good distance away and walked around towards the backside of the building and rounded a corner, coming face to face with the back side of a truck. The same truck the cameras showed from the neighbor’s home, he was definitely here. He made his way further behind the building, the only thing outside being dumpsters and broken glass scattered around it. He paused upon hearing a screeching door somewhere on the other side of the building behind him. 

*BANG*  

*BANG*

Shots rang out from behind Simon as he spun around he saw a man lying face down to the ground groaning. He ran to the man who had been shot and heard his comrades radio that they had gotten him, and didn’t go any closer seeing Simon approach the man. Simon watched as blood slowly leaked from the man’s lower half thanks to the bullet hole through his lower abdomen. A glare caught his eye as he looked over the man, a jagged knife had fallen from his hands and was now out of reach. Simon was over the man now staring at him, he couldn’t hear his thoughts or the mans protests through the anger as he rolled him over to face him.

 He held the man into a sitting position with one fist bunched around his clothing as he began to ruthlessly beat him with his other free hand. He thought to your face and swollen neck, the IV drips coming from your body, he saw the mans face was contorted and his nose began to bleed aggressively. He thought to the bandages and wounds that should have never touched your body, as he heard a crack somewhere in his hand. The man took a hold of Simons arm that was holding him up, trying to wrench himself free. He thought to your voice calling out for him over the phone as you groaned out in pain, and the fear that followed your voice and landed a punch square to the mans face. His hands that had been trying to rip him from Simon now fell limply to his side, he was unconscious.

Simon dropped him from where he was just as others had reached him to stop him from doing any more damage. He said nothing to the others as he walked back to his car, leaving the mangled man on the ground, and made his way back to you. 

He pulled into the lot, adrenaline still pulsing though him as he parked the car and made his way up to your room. He took no spare time in getting back to your side, pushing open the room door to see you were still asleep. He settled into his chair as he reached out again for your hand. He felt his own hand twinge in pain as he looked down to see one of his fingers was heavily inflamed and slightly twisted, another inflamed but still straight. He huffed to himself taking a breath as he settled into the chair, he would worry of his own injuries once you were awake. 

A few hours went on as nurses came and went, one staying to take vitals and waking you in the process. You sat up to see Simon in the chair next to you, this time asleep. He always looked so calm like this, something that made you feel all the more safe when with him. It was dark in the room and the nurse quickly made her way out as you laid back down and allowed yourself to rest as well. 

Morning came as the doctor strode in, Simon already awake and watching a silent show on the TV. His chair was facing the same direction, his hands interwound in his lap. 

‘Good morning everyone, I see you stayed the night Simon.’ Simon looked to him and gave a nod as he turned his chair to face you and what the doctor would say next. 

The doctor went over test results and assured that you were recovering well, despite it taking longer than you had hoped. He left you with a prescription for medication and let you know it would be another day of tests before you could leave. Simon looked to you and smiled, a true smile now knowing that you were making progress towards being better. He let his hand come up to meet yours as the doctor began to leave the room. 

‘You’re in an awfully bright mood this morning.’ You smile to Simon as you place your hand over his you feel him tense. He looks to you and blinks slowly, as he talks to you with the morning gruff in his voice you never wanted to lose. 

‘Only when I get to see you.’ Your smile begins to fall as you look down towards Simons hand and find the knuckles to be bruised, one of them split. You gasp as you retract your hand from his and look to his face, which had become more serious now. 

‘Simon…What did you do to yourself? It look so inflamed…’ Your voice trailed as you gently grabbed his hand and held it in clear view, he had definitely broken at least two fingers. His head fell as he stared at the blankets, and it all clicked. He went after the man, that horrible monster. You thought to yourself that it wasn’t at all necessary for him to go after him himself but understood that he felt far to much unnecessary guilt and that was how he knew to fix it. 

Not that you would ever approve of Simon being irrationally violent, you felt a weight you didn’t know you had become lifted off your shoulders knowing he had been delt with. He wasn’t proud of how he handled the situation, his head lowered in obviousness, but you knew that he needed to avenge your pains and that it could have been far worse.

‘Thank you, Simon.’ He looked up to you quickly, expecting a lecture of some kind on being unreasonable or not letting someone else handle it. He didn’t respond but instead took his good hand and interlocked it with yours and slowly closed his eyes, rubbing over your small hand taking a deep breath. He let out his breath as he smiled to you half opening his eyes. You then called for the nurse although Simon initially protested, one look from you and he had been silenced. The nurse came in to see his hand and let the doctor know to make his way in to decide what to do next.  

The doctor came into the room and assessed him hand carefully. To your surprise he didn’t ask Simon any questions but instead simply took him to get an X-Ray. About an hour later with a wrap around his hand, Simon made his way back into the room, plopping into his chair beside you. 

The rest of the day you both sat quietly, resting as the daylight streamed in through the windows and enjoyed a show together. You watched him as you looked from the TV, he was relaxed. Sitting in the chair with his feet on the other chair across from him, he was holding your hand from the side, his eyes watching the screen.

You knew that he would do just about anything and everything for you, and for that reason alone you knew to call him.

#ghost x reader #books #call of duty fanart #cod fanfic #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost simon riley #ghost call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod smut

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #soulmate au

[nikoisme]

Okay something that i've noticed that really rubs me the wrong way is the infantilization of Odysseus. I only see this in the epic the musical tag, which i think says a lot. Even though epic is a loose adaptation of the odyssey, I think that homer's odysseus and epic's odysseus should be seen as seperate characters.

Epic's odysseus is definitely watered down, written so his character was easy to understand and consume by the audience to fit the story format (2h musical in this case). Even then, you should hold respect for this version as well due to the fact that he is based off of homer's odysseus, who holds an important place in greek mythology, history and culture.

Not everything Odysseus did has to be justifiable (eg. in Epic his revelation of identity to Polyphemus is written as an act of grief, when in The Odyssey it's hubris). He didn't do everything for the love of his wife. There were things that he DID do for her,, there are the things that can not be exactly morally justifiable or explained, but then again there are the things he did that are explained by the time period and societal views. Odysseus was a character that came to life in a completely different time period, remember that. As that was well over thousands of years ago, it looks like his motives are explained through a lens that modern audiences could understand: for example love, grief etc. That is not to say they weren't present, but they are not the main and only motives.

I think it has to do with the fact that odysseus is a hero - but today's views of what a hero is is different than the ones of the past. Kleos was a big thing, and as heroes were often those who toed the lined between divinity and humanity,, often was the case that it doesn't matter if you're objectively good as long as you're great. (Now we could start a discussion of what good exactly means but that's not what i'm here to talk about). Not to say that there weren't heroes who were not good! Perseus, for example, could be seen as good. But Odysseus not so much, which is why i think that watering him down to a story of going from kind to ruthless is a risky thing.

Odysseus is remembered for what he is presented as in the odyssey, and his struggles could resonate with people throughout the centuries. He was great, he did noble things but he also did bad things - which is why i think Epic's odysseus just takes away so much from homer's odysseus.

Tl;dr: keep Epic and Odyssey odysseus as two seperate characters, but still hold respect for the fact that Odysseus himself is important to the greek culture.

(I am not Greek or a professional on this subject, these are just some personal thoughts!)

#there is also the thing that odysseus was a king/nobility which is another topic in itself #you can find odysseus funny in some moments but do not use those to paint a completely different character #i think if you want to enjoy odysseus you have to enjoy the whole package: the good and the bad. #so if you take away the bad then it's just. not odysseus anymore. and then perhaps he's not the character for you. #niko rambles #these are not ALL the thoughts i have. but i think i got the point across

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 15/16

Pairing: Obi Wan x FemReader

Chapter Length: 9K

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, angst, smut, unhappy ending

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

side note: can't believe we're finally at the second to last chapter :')

☆☆☆

Your breath is slow. Your shoulders are relaxed. Your muscles are decidedly loose. The temple grounds are a wellspring of the Force. 

So why do you have to keep correcting yourself, bringing your mind back to center over and over again like a padawan? 

You must tell me.

The sound of his voice beats like a drum, thrumming and thrumming and thrumming deep within you.

There will come a time when it is too late. What will you do then? Take comfort in the knowledge that you'd kept your promise not to speak to him? 

You could break your oath to the Jedi order for selfish reasons, but you won't break your silence to save him now?

A shudder runs down your back. These are dark thoughts. A Jedi does not make decisions out of fear. Or shame. 

You release the feelings, concentrating on the leaves of the vines hanging from the trellis that surrounds you. Looking for the light in any form. 

A crown finch peeks through the greenery on the other side of the trellis, then flits to a branch on the tree above you. In the distance, you hear the hollow, wooden sound of a wind chime clinking. You close your eyes and imagine the wind gently pushing the chimes, playing the song within the soul of the planet beneath you. The finch chirrups over your head, and you listen to the sound of its little wings beating as it moves further away. You follow the fluttering noises until they start to sound strangely louder. 

In the distance, the noise becomes more like a brushing, crunching intrusion. Like a creature larger than a finch. Your suspicions are confirmed with the sound of footsteps growing closer, and you open your eyes, sensing a familiar presence in the Force. 

"Anakin?" 

He's draped in long, dark robes that seem to be giving him some difficulty in maneuvering the narrow gap between two hedges that isn't technically part of the walking path. When he hears your voice he looks up, and his frustrated expression instantly softens. He gives you one of his charming, shy smiles and quickly shrugs through the bushes to greet you with an embrace. 

"Hey, Pickup," he murmurs quietly behind your head. Your own smile deepens at the nickname. It's been years since you've heard it. 

He'd given it to you back when your relationship with him had been mainly limited to flying the getaway ship for him and Obi Wan. You'd swept in at the last minute many times to provide an escape from whatever situation they'd found themselves in. Usually fire was involved.

Now, he hardly resembles the scrawny teenager from back then. His sandy blond hair has darkened over time into shaggy brown curls, and the scar given to him by Ventress has taken the innocence from his eyes. 

As you pull away from the hug to look him over, you search his expression for a glimpse of the boy you remember. Looking deeper, you think, no - perhaps it wasn't Ventress's work that did that. His eyes hold many of the same things you've seen in your own. Anxiety. Fatigue. Too many terrible memories from the war. He's changed, the same as you have. 

But despite it, he looks glad to see you. 

"I had heard you might come back. It's been too long." He pauses, seeming to hesitate before quietly adding, "I've missed you."

The genuine sentiment tugs at your heart. Anakin had always gone barreling through any sense of formality or propriety, and it seems that will never change. 

You give his forearm - the one that can feel it - a squeeze. "I've missed you too," you tell him. Then you look around, suddenly remembering. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the ceremony."

He looks sheepish, pulling away. "I was. I left after the awards were given. I don't think they'll mind."

You give him a mockingly chastising smile from under your brows. He absolutely knows they will more than 'mind'. They're probably looking for him right now. Which makes you wonder...

"And Obi Wan?" you ask, trying to keep your tone nonchalant as you look behind him, half expecting him to emerge from the shrubs. 

He shakes his head, dark tresses bouncing over his shoulders. "No, Obi Wan wouldn't dream of leaving to find me. Not when we need to keep our relationship with the senate so close."

There seems to be a little venom in his words, and he drops his gaze to the side. You raise an eyebrow, letting the pause drag out. When he doesn't elaborate, you ask gently, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he brushes you off. "Forget it."

You want to push, knowing you could probably get more out of him, but you don't have that kind of rapport anymore. You don't know him well enough to navigate his volatile emotions. So you change the subject. 

"Well, if you're not attending the ceremony, what were you planning to do until it's over?"

The shadow of his shy smile is back. He glances toward the temple behind you. "I have some work I wanted to take care of." He looks back at you, gaze brightening a bit. "Actually, maybe you could help me."

You study him, pretending to hesitate when you've already made up your mind to help him. Then you give a little bow, stepping behind him with your hand outstretched. "Lead the way, Skywalker." 

Who knows. Spending a little time outside your head could be exactly what you need. 

--

"Whatever happened to Jedi keeping limited possessions?" You ask him, staring at the speeder as he hands a few credits to the droid hovering at the keypad.

"Well, this is one of my few possessions," he drawls, tugging the cover off of it as the droid bustles off. "It's only a few credits a month to keep it here, and the parts weren't expensive. Most of them were damaged when I got them."

'Here' is a dingy little storage unit on one of Coruscant's lower levels. You're both still wearing the hoods of your robes to cover your faces as Anakin had pointed out that he didn't exactly want anyone to know about the space. You only take down your hoods after he closes the bay door behind you, keying in the code. 

Once you're alone inside the unit, you cross your arms, walking around the speeder to take it all in. The body isn't in anything resembling good condition, but everything is where it should be. You pop the hood to take a look at the engine, which consists of some very creative choices. 

Leaning over it, you start to see why he had asked you here. Some of the work would require specialized tools - or two pairs of hands. And since he isn't a Besalisk, here you are. It did beg a further question, though. 

"You didn't want Master Windu's help with this?" you ask, teasing. 

He doesn't answer, just gives you a sardonic look. 

"Alright, then. What about Obi Wan?"

This is a more genuine question. As much as it had become a joke, there's more than a little truth behind it when people call Anakin his second padawan. 

While Mace Windu supports Anakin in all the necessary ways, diligent, patient, and steady, Obi Wan has always tended to be the supportive shoulder on which he leans. During the early years of his training. Mace seemed to work under the perception that if he was indeed the Chosen One, he would not fail. Obi Wan took Anakin's training more personally, intent that he would become a Jedi knight - that he must not fail. It was for this very reason that the council had decided Obi Wan would not be responsible for his training. 

But it was also for this reason that Anakin often confided in Obi Wan things that he couldn't share with his own master. They became like brothers, in a way, and despite their separation, by the time Anakin completed his training as a padawan, even the council couldn't deny how well they worked together. While you had been working solo, Obi Wan and Anakin had been paired on missions more often than any other Jedi. 

So as you lean over Anakin's latest secret, you genuinely wonder why Obi Wan hasn't been made a part of it. 

"Obi Wan has enough problems on his mind at the moment," he answers unconvincingly. He steps up next to you, taking the speeder's hood from your hand and propping it up. "And anyway, he wouldn't understand."

You decide to let it rest, though there seems to be more he's not saying. Obi Wan would understand having a secret project to work on - needing a little slice of freedom within his means. Though he might not approve, he would have helped if Anakin had asked. You both know it. Instead of pursuing the thought, though, you pick up a spanner. 

"Okay. Then just show me where you need me."

--

A couple of hours later, you're slamming down the hood and wiping your hands with a rag. Anakin is raising his arm above his head, rubbing his face into the underside of his sleeve. 

"I think that'll do it," he says, smearing the mix of black grease with his sweat and painting it from his nose to his cheek. "Come on. Let's go for a test drive."

You smile, tossing him the rag and watching him make a poor effort to clean himself up. "I'd be honored to be your first passenger." Climbing into the seat, you frown. "But, wait. Aren't you worried someone will see us?"

He presses a button as he gets behind the controls, and a durasteel panel starts to slide over your head. "We'll keep the top on."

Once the speeder's top half is in place and he's edged it out of the storage unit, he hops out to close the unit's entrance. As he slides back into his seat, he adjusts the steering and turns to look at you again with a barely subdued grin. "Besides, we'll be going too fast for anyone to get a good look at us."

"...We will?" is all you have time to get out before he punches it, sending you careening into multi-level traffic and gripping the side of your seat to steady yourself. 

Coruscant glimmers all around you. Any surface that's not emitting its own twinkling lights, advertisement or otherwise, reflects the brilliant glare of the sun. The cacophony of light and sound echoes into the abyss beneath you, as far down as you can see. As Anakin whips through streams of other speeders without the slightest hesitation, the noises grow louder, into shrieks and beeps and the occasional curse. 

You bite your tongue, glancing over at him as he threads the needle between two other speeders. His eyes are lit up with the spark of adrenaline, and there's no sense in trying to reason with him. You'd known what you were getting into as soon as you'd agreed to go along for the ride. He's quickly overcome with the gleeful look he gets when he's in complete control of utter chaos, and you find yourself cracking a smile, angling your hand out the window to catch the current of the wind whipping past. 

When you've sped well past the outskirts of the Senate District, he punches a button and the durasteel above your head melts back into the frame of the speeder. The hood you'd pulled over your head is whisked away, uncovering your face. 

"Anakin!" you shout over the wind, startled, "I thought we weren't going to put the top down?"

He just gives another wild smile, eyes facing forward. "It's beautiful, isn't it? We can go wherever we want."

It's like he's not even in the same dimension anymore. You watch him, hair ruffling in the breeze, eyes sparkling with some sort of blind fervor you can't quite understand. 

This man - this kid, you remind yourself - is a general, with unending responsibilities. It must be a dream to let loose, even for a moment. That must be why he seems so distant; so lost in thought. 

After some time sitting in silence, just letting him fly, you finally ask, "Anakin, can you take me back, please?" 

That snaps him out of it. The speeder instantly slows as he seems to come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have done that."

You smile gently. "No, it's alright. It's not that." Sighing, you rest your arm over the side. "I have... somewhere I have to be."

He grips the shifter and starts to turn back. "Sure. Of course." Then, more quietly when the wind isn't muffling the words anymore, he murmurs, "Something's wrong. Isn't it?"

You stare down over the edge, sighing softly again. He's always been so sensitive to the suffering of those around him. And as usual, he doesn't hesitate to pry. But if anyone were to understand struggling to follow traditions and ideals, it would be Anakin. 

"I just... have a lot on my mind," you tell him slowly, haltingly. 

There's a long, unbroken silence while his dark lashes flick down briefly, and then he stares out over the blinking lights and perpetual movement of the city. It goes without saying that everyone playing a part in this war has a lot on their mind. But there's a strange kind of intimacy in being able to say it out loud to someone.

You turn to look at him, finally deciding to push a little further past caution. "Anakin, have you ever felt like... like you don't know who to trust? Even the Force? Even... yourself?"

He seems to tense. When he answers, his voice goes soft and his tone is hard to read. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you reply truthfully. "All my life, there's been a clear line between right and wrong. Even when things are at their most complicated, I knew which choice to make. Now... I just. Don't."

You can feel your pulse quickening, admitting these things. You expect him to dismiss you; to tell you what you would tell any fellow Jedi in such a state: Trust in the Force. 

But he doesn't answer right away. 

Keeping the speeder at a steady pace, he shifts his eyes uneasily over to yours. "Sometimes the line isn't as clear as it should be." He pauses. "So, I suppose you have to ask yourself, what choice can you make that will help people the most?"

You shake your head. "I wish it were that simple. But if I decide to try and help someone... to save someone for the wrong reasons..."

His eyes narrow. "I don't believe that's possible."

"What?" 

"If you can help someone, the Jedi code makes it our responsibility to do so. There are no wrong reasons to protect life. No matter what anyone might say." He's talking slowly, now; deeper in his chest. It's a thing he's always done to make himself seem older and wiser than his years. 

You lift your brows, staring at him. Then you collect yourself, trying not to offend him with your shock. He's always been forthright, but this is truly something different. "I wish I could be so certain. I've meditated on it endlessly, but things feel so... clouded."

He lapses back into an uneasy silence, then finally asks you, with a tentative edge in his voice, "This... person you want to save-"

"It isn't anyone you know," you answer, trying to keep your voice steady while adding the lie to the growing list of reasons you feel yourself spinning out.

He nods slowly, letting it drop. Then he finishes his thought with half-hearted encouragement. "You should have more faith in yourself. Obi Wan has taught you well. You'll do what's right, in the end."

Your chest tightens and you blink, quickly looking away. 

"I'll try," you mumble, blurting out the first response you can come up with. There's a long silence, his name hanging between you. 

You don't like how far the conversation has steered toward Obi Wan. You recalibrate, talking over him just as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"Have you spoken to Senator Amidala lately?"

His entire mood seems to shift, though his expression hardly changes. He's gotten better over time at hiding his crush, but to someone who knows him well, the difference in his demeanor is obvious. 

"Not lately," he answers quickly. He pauses before adding, more quietly, "She's been... hard at work. Busy with senate matters. We haven't had much time to catch up."

You nod. "Of course."

He mumbles something about a sector governance decree, and you nod again, feigning interest. Then he goes totally silent, and it's awkward this time; not easily broken. You don't like pushing his buttons like this, and you feel a little guilty at manipulating him. But if he had kept prodding you for more details, you don't know if you could have kept from getting defensive. 

Anakin cranks at the controls with a gloved hand, speeding up. The top comes back up a few moments later, and you make polite conversation on the way back to the storage complex; no longer two old friends, but now just two people having entirely different thoughts than the ones shared out loud. 

--

"See you later, Pickup," Anakin says, splitting his path from your own when you make it back to the temple. Then he calls after you, "If you see Obi Wan before me, tell him I'm sorry he had to fend for himself with the politicians."

You instinctively force a smile, but looking back at Anakin, a genuine one gets away from you. 

"I'll tell him if I see him."

If you see him. You check your chrono; it's becoming that time now, in fact. You have little time to rush back to your quarters and get cleaned up before your commlink is blinking with a new message.

The council has convened, and they await your arrival. 

The thick mantle of your outer robe flutters behind you as you swiftly make your way up the stairs to the council chambers. You've opted for one of your older robes - a cream-colored one with traditional floor-length inner robes which are even lighter in color. You try not to think of the reason you've selected this garb. You try to tell yourself it was a subconscious decision to wear an outfit that would put forth an image of softness, of innocence, of purity. 

Just in case. 

When you reach the closed doors, you straighten your shoulders and do everything in your power to calm your spirit. The waiting is finally over. Whether for good or bad, you will finally know why the council has called you here. 

When you push in, entering the council chambers, you find the majority of the seats empty. The rest of the council is nowhere to be seen, and sitting in front of you are only three members.

"Please, come in, Commander," Mace greets you. 

You step into the center of the room and bow respectfully to each of them in turn. 

"Master Windu." You dip your head in reply to his greeting, and he nods. 

"Master Yoda," you address the grandmaster beside him, tipping your head down. 

The wrinkled little sage makes a "hm" sound under his breath, deeply inclining his head to match you. 

The third Jedi Master's cape is strewn over the side of his chair, and he bows his head before you do. His eyes are a brilliant, incandescent blue. "Commander."

Your pulse skips a few beats, and after mirroring his nod, you snap your eyes back to Master Windu before you can show any sign of hesitation. 

Mace fixes you under a stare of his own. "We have much to discuss, and time is not our ally, so we will begin with a simple question: Do you believe your mission on Asar-2 was a success?"

You keep your eyes centered on Mace, though your immediate instinct is to slip a glance back to your master. "I... believe it was. Yes."

"And do you still feel you are capable of performing your duties in their full extent?"

You feel your palms immediately going clammy beneath the long sleeves of your robe. Crossing your arms slowly in front of yourself, you clasp your hands gently at your waist and nod solemnly. "Yes, Masters, I do."

"Regardless of any personal feelings you may have?"

Your throat goes dry. 

Your mask slips, just long enough for you to cast a glance at Obi Wan. He locks eyes with you, holds it for a moment, then looks away. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try not to let panic take over. This shouldn't be so hard. You specialize in lying, after all. But there's a difference between telling lies for a cause that you believe is right, and telling lies to cover your own selfish actions. And that difference is sitting in the pit of your stomach right now.

You focus back on the question. Too much time has passed. And you know the only answer you can give.

"Yes, Master."

Despite his sense of urgency, Master Windu stays quiet, letting the moment linger. All three of them, including Obi Wan, seem to be inspecting you deeply. You feel exposed in more ways than one, under the scrutiny of the council members, surrounded by walls of transparisteel with ships and speeders passing idly by. Meanwhile, your breath is shortening with every intake. 

At long last, Mace leans slightly forward. "We have asked you here for an assignment so critical to the survival of the Republic that it must remain secret to anyone outside this room." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "It will test not only your skills, but your ability to place personal relationships aside for the greater good."

Your relief at the sudden clarity that this meeting isn't a court martial is swiftly replaced with a whole new sinking feeling. The survival of the Republic. Not victory, not defense, but mere survival?

The whiplash must be all over your face, because Mace's expression hardens even further. "Commander?"

"Sorry - yes," you reply quickly. "I will do whatever is necessary. Whatever the council's orders, I'm ready."

Mace nods. "Very well." He takes on a new posture, even more solemn than before. "We have reason to believe that there is serious corruption in the Senate. More than we had ever thought possible. And..." He exhales. "We have reason to believe that the chancellor may be deeply involved."

You let the shock color your face, looking at each of them, waiting pointlessly for the comment to be corrected. There must be some mistake. If that were true...

"We have been informed the chancellor will soon be requesting that Anakin Skywalker be appointed to the Jedi council and made a master. As you know, Anakin and the chancellor have always been quite close."

You stare speechlessly. What he's implying simply can't be true. 

"Therefore, we will ask that Anakin use their connection to report back on any suspicious activity he may find surrounding the chancellor or any of his associates." 

He stops, seeming to gather himself before he goes on. "This council, however, does not have full faith in his ability to carry out his orders. And that is where you come in. We are assigning you to report on Skywalker's dealings with the chancellor. Some believe that it already may be too late to root out this corruption, and that Anakin himself may be too close to the chancellor to see things clearly."

Your voice comes out cracked, despite your effort to sound detached and impartial. "And what would my orders be?"

"To observe Anakin over the coming days and weeks, until we have a better idea of the nature of his relationship with Chancellor Palpatine. You will need to deliver all reports directly to one of us, in person. We cannot be certain that any of our channels of communication are uncompromised."

A cold sweat chills the back of your neck. This is wrong. This is all wrong. 

"I understand. However..." You shift your stance uncomfortably. "It... may be difficult to keep an unnoticeable trail on someone as strong in the Force as Anakin."

Mace and Yoda exchange an almost imperceptible glance. It was a misstep on your part. You knew it, even as you were saying it. 

You've spied on countless intelligent targets, force-wielding or not, and they're well aware from your reports that it can be done. You could find a million ways around Anakin's strength in the Force. It's a feeble excuse, and it's clear you're balking at orders to which you had earnestly agreed only moments before.

"If you don't believe you can do it-"

"No, sir," you interject quickly. "I can do it. I... simply wanted to share my concerns about the difficulties."

"Mm," Yoda grunts beside Mace. "Difficult this will be. Dangerous, in many ways. Certain, you are, in accepting this assignment?"

His bulbous eyes narrowing slightly, Yoda waits for your answer. You swallow, then nod. "Yes, Master. I am certain."

"Very well," Mace acknowledges. "You will receive our schedules of availability shortly. If you need to meet at an unscheduled time, use an encrypted channel, and codes no older than one week. May the Force aid you in your mission."

You bow your head and turn to take your leave. Two of the masters remain seated as you go, but Obi Wan stands to leave immediately. He heads for the door, outpacing you, but Yoda speaks up again, and you hold back while he hesitates in the doorframe. 

"Commander," Yoda croaks solemnly, "Acknowledge your feelings for Skywalker, you must. But allow them to cloud your judgement, you must not. An easy task, this will not be."

You trade a look between Yoda and Mace - Anakin's former master giving you a meaningful look in return. You lower your gaze to the floor for a moment, accepting the truth, and then meet Yoda's stare again. 

"But a necessary one," you reply.

Sadness envelops Yoda's features. "Proven right, I hope you are not. Proven wrong, I hope we all are."

Obi Wan stands in the doorway for a long handful of heartbeats, until you turn toward him, and he turns to leave. 

You walk slowly in his wake for a respectful amount of time, and when you're far enough from the council chambers, you begin striding down the hall after him.

Now is the time. You won't get another chance.

He's already halfway down the stairs when you find him, cape billowing with his quick steps. From a distance, he looks more myth than man - his armored shoulders are so broad, the dark fabric draped over them reminiscent of the warriors you've seen in ancient tapestries. The fading light coming through the wide windows of the temple bathes him in glorious hues trailing one after the other, and when you finally manage to close the distance, he's at the base of the stairs.

You force yourself to call after him, not allowing yourself to hesitate any longer. 

"Master."

His head turns, ripples of illumination gliding through his golden hair. Slowing his pace, he watches as you catch up with him. You nearly miss the bottom step, arrested by the way his eyes sparkle in the sunlight, despite the heaviness in his expression. 

"A word?" you ask him, keeping your tone light for those around you. 

He hesitates, and you can tell by his face that a word with you is the very last thing he would like. 

"Of course."

He glances down an adjoining hall to a private meeting room, and you follow him there. As he opens the door, he uses one hand to lift the heavy cape from his shoulder, brushing it behind him to allow you more space as you enter. 

Turning on the light, you see the room has been dimmed to better view the small holotable in the center, which is currently turned off. It's a tiny room, most of the space between the table and the walls taken up by chairs. There's a small gap where you can stand and face one another, practically up against the wall. You could move the chairs or find the light switch, but there's no point in wasting the time. You turn to Obi Wan as he comes up behind you instead, trying not to let the bare separation between you set your nerves further aflame. 

"I'm sorry, I know we agreed, but this is..." you start off, immediately hearing the tremble in your voice. "I needed to talk to you."

"About Anakin?"

It hadn't been about Anakin, but now it's about so many things.

"No. I mean, yes, now I..." You take a breath. "This is so hard to believe. That the council would ask one Jedi to spy on another. One of their own members, I should say." You shake your head. "That the chancellor would even ask such a thing in the first place."

Obi Wan sighs. "It is disturbing."

"It also seems strange that the full council wouldn't have met with me for such an important task," you go on, looking for a reaction from him. "Is that not strange?"

He crosses his arms, looking down at the table, then back up at you, seeming to deliberate before giving his answer. "The council... did not all agree on this decision."

Your face drops, your mouth nearly falling open in shock. He might as well have told you that the floor beneath you had opened up into cold, empty space. The council often had differing opinions, but to outright refuse to come to an agreement? To have members sit out while mandates were issued? It's unheard of. 

"We took a vote. When it was decided that this task could not be entrusted to Anakin alone, it was also decided that the identities of those who voted in favor should be protected in case there were... unforseen repercussions. Three members were selected to be directly involved, in order to protect the others."

This is making a little more sense, now. You don't have to ask how Obi Wan voted.

"I see," you answer. "You don't think Anakin..."

"Anakin would not betray the Republic. He would not betray his fellow Jedi." Both his gaze and his voice hold steady conviction. In the undercurrent of his words, a third thing goes unsaid: "He would not betray me."

You nod. "I know he wouldn't. That's why I had to take the assignment. If I hadn't done it, someone else might have." 

"Yes," he says quietly. "I know."

You search his face in confusion. If he'd wanted you to do this all along, then why does he seem so reluctant?

"When you came to me that night back on Ilum, were you trying to... warn me? Did you not want me to take it?"

Obi Wan's brow creases. "On Ilum?"

You toss a glance behind his shoulder to make sure the door is locked. "When... you said I called to you in the Force."

His expression drifts from confusion into concern. "I... don't understand."

You're about to take the hint and change the subject, inferring that he doesn't want to discuss anything personal inside the temple, until he continues. 

"When did this happen?"

The question strikes you as genuine, and all at once your grasp on reality feels tenuous. 

"Just two nights ago," you say, lowering your voice. You still aren't entirely sure he's not feigning ignorance for the sake of possible prying ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, shaking his head. "Two nights ago I would have been nowhere near Ilum."

"Not-" You try to shake off the air of unease that's settling over you. "Not in person. In a vision."

"A vision?" He still looks lost. "I've had no such vision."

You've been manipulated. That much is certain, now. By whom or what, you still aren't sure. 

Obi Wan is staring at you, waiting for your explanation. When you don't answer right away, he reiterates, "Whatever you saw on Ilum, I was not aware of."

You steel yourself, trying not to lose your nerve. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. What matters is that deep down, you know the future you saw was real.

"Whether you were involved in the visions or not, the message involves you." 

You take a breath. 

"Obi Wan, I need to ask something of you."

He tilts his head questioningly, but doesn't respond.

You stare into his eyes, heart racing. "Don't go to Utapau. Please."

He blinks, leaning back. "What?"

"These visions... I don't know what they mean, exactly, but I do know this: You can't go to Utapau."

He seems to consider before asking, "Why? What will happen there?"

"I... don't know," you lie, breaking his gaze. It makes your stomach turn to keep the truth from him, but the reality is that foreknowledge of his death wouldn't be enough to stop him.

"If you don't know, then why must I stay away?"

"I don't know exactly why," you tell him slowly, "but I do know that the Force is telling me something, and I need to listen."

He brushes a hand across his beard. "How long have you been having these visions?"

"Only recently," you lie again. You wish you could confess everything, but admitting how long you'd deceived him would only cast doubt on your message. "A few months ago."

Technically, that is when they became more specific. You tell yourself it's not a total lie.

Obi Wan still looks uncertain, but after a long time, he hesitantly says, "I... have no need to go to Utapau." 

Your heart swells with hope, until he finishes his answer. 

"But I cannot agree to stay away. I don't know what the future will bring. Neither of us do."

You squeeze your eyes shut, the urgency of your last chance to make him listen a red-hot stake in your chest. When you open them again, you try not to let your voice break. "Please, Obi Wan. If you... if you have any trust in me at all-"

"It is not a matter of trust," he corrects you. His tone is still gentle, but there's a note of reproach in it. "I will follow the will of the Force. Whatever that may be."

You know it's unfair to place this burden on him. In his mind, you're asking him to choose between his duty and his trust in you. But to you, they are one and the same.

"But that's exactly what it is," you insist. "Don't you see? The Force is showing me the way. And I'm listening."

"If the Force has a message for me," he replies carefully, "why can I not see it myself?" 

He looks at you, and suddenly in that moment you're transported right back to the Separatist base, where you've gone through all this before. He didn't believe in you then, and he doesn't, now. 

"You don't trust me."

"I never said that."

"How?" you ask, ignoring him. "How, after all we've been through, can you still not trust me?"

"Perhaps we should talk about this later." He looks unsettled.

"Please. I need to know. If I've done something-"

"You're upset," he interrupts, turning slightly away from you in the limited space he has, putting his shoulder pauldron between you like a barrier. "We should discuss this when you have calmed down."

"There might not be time later to discuss it," you press. "Obi Wan, I don't understand. Why won't you talk to me? You touch a hand against the cold armor covering his upper arm. "Why won't you trust me?"

He jerks at your touch, and you don't know who is more surprised by your sudden gesture. He turns back to face you, not quite shrugging your hand off, but making it clear you shouldn't have done it. 

"It is not you that I don't trust," he insists.

"Then why won't you listen to what I have to say? Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because I cannot trust myself," he admits, voice harsh, but eyes as soft as they've ever been. He casts his gaze to the side. "My own judgment. Not... not where it concerns you."

You stand frozen, not certain of his meaning. "Why not?"

"I would think it quite obvious," he says tightly, eyes drawing up to yours. 

You're certain this time the floor really has opened beneath you. You feel like you're floating. 

"And," you ask, voice half gone, "why should that affect your judgment?"

He says your name quietly, almost accusingly. He wants you to know the answer, because he clearly doesn't want to say it.

You're struck dumb, unable to reply. And you're suddenly very aware of how close you're standing. How dim the lights are. How electric the air has become.

"How can I trust myself to act with logic and reason when they've so easily escaped me before?" He goes on, soft and low. "Am I truly meant to know about this vision? Or am I defying the will of the Force right now, by speaking to you?"

You swallow, looking up at him. You don't reply. You can't.

"I must doubt everything. Especially my own thoughts. Especially where it concerns you."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're afraid it's going to climb up your throat. "You... you told me when I was in doubt, I should rely on the strength of the Force. That I shouldn't turn away. So, what does it tell you now?"

His mouth is a hard, set line beneath his beard, his eyes a torrent of emotions. Then he finally answers. 

"That I cannot allow myself, at this crucial moment, to think of anything but my responsibilities. That I must bind myself to my duty. And that despite all of this, you make me weak."

You're certain he meant it as a confession of his own failing. He didn't say it for the sake of driving you to the brink of sanity, but he's done it all the same. And your mouth is on his before you can even fathom resisting. 

You sink into him, tears nearly springing to your eyes as months of longing come surging back all at once. His lips catch yours, uncertain and warm and soft. His body is rigid, one hand flat on the holotable and the other hovering over - but not quite touching - the small of your back.

When you pull away, you're gasping. "I'm- I'm sorry."

He hasn't closed his mouth, and you haven't parted your bodies. Being close enough to breathe in his scent is making your head swim.  

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "That... I shouldn't have done that."

He shakes his head softly, just staring at you, but he doesn't pull away. "No," he agrees. 

"I've missed you," you whisper, and he closes his eyes, bringing his chin up and taking a slow breath through his nose.

When he looks at you again, there's a long, heavy, heated silence. You wonder if you've pushed past the point of breaking. If he'll send you away. You can't let this be the last time you speak. Not like this. 

Then he lets out a sigh. "I... tried to forget you." It's an admission that clearly pains him to say out loud. "When I left Ilum, I thought that I could keep my fond memories. That I could accept I would never see you again, and think of you only in passing. But with time, it became more difficult. I realized if I were to move forward, I couldn't trust myself with these memories. I would need to put you out of my mind entirely."

You swallow. His words are hard to comprehend. "Obi Wan..."

"And still," he says softly, locking eyes with you again, "I found myself thinking of you, in quiet moments, when I should not."

It makes you sick, how much you want him. This time, you lean in slowly, giving him ample time to back away. He meets your lips, and you taste his sadness, his unwillingness to make things so much harder for the both of you. But there's a heat and a desperation roiling beneath his movements that neither of you can deny, either. 

The room is quiet, the air practically throbbing with all the things you aren't saying to one another, lips brushing tenderly as if they'd never once parted. And after a moment's hesitation, he begins to kiss you back. 

As soon as he begins to respond, your tongue is desperate for more of him, and you dip into his mouth, making him moan softly. The sound makes you pull back to bite your lip, and you murmur against him breathlessly, "We shouldn't do this."

"No," he agrees between kisses, turning his body around yours to press your back against the holotable. "Not here."

"Then tell me what you said was a lie," you whisper. "Take it back."

"It was a lie." He sucks your lip. "I take it back."

You groan softly against his mouth. "Obi Wan, you're the voice of reason," you tell him, nearly teasing and yet utterly serious. You need him to have the strength to stop, because you have none. 

His hands come up to either side of your face, cupping you gently as he pushes you hard against the table.

"Darling, I am a wretched man."

He covers your mouth with his own, sliding his tongue deep and grinding his hips into yours, kissing you with a delirious, fervent hunger. You ruffle your fingers through his smooth golden hair and groan into his mouth as he parts your robes. 

When he takes you in his arms, it is against every tenet of the Jedi Code. He lifts you effortlessly up onto the table behind you, pushing your heavy outer robe from your shoulders, letting it sink into a pile at your back. 

"You were so beautiful before the council," he rumbles at your throat, sliding wet kisses from your jawline down, "I could hardly bring myself to look at you."

Your stomach flips wildly. You whine his name, gripping the armor covering his shoulders.

His gloved hand slides up your leg, dragging your inner robe over your knee. He grips your thigh, kneading softly, and then pulls back from kissing your neck to tear off his glove with his teeth. It falls to the floor and he looks back up at you, a lock of hair falling into his eyes. 

When he kisses you again, it's long and languid. He's taking his time, feeling every inch of your mouth, drawing out every sound you try to suppress. His palm is flat against your bare skin, stroking slowly up and down while his tongue slides against yours, until he finds the hem of your robe again and pushes it all the way up. 

When he dips his thumb to brush over the thin fabric between your legs, you're already dripping through it. He makes a hoarse, broken sound into your mouth, stroking his thumb over and over to feel more of it. You whimper, muscles tightening to the point of ache.

Your fingers are trembling as you drag them down the armor of his stomach until you reach between his legs. You can feel the clips that keep his codpiece in place, but after a short struggle, your desperation wins out. 

"Help me," you plead into his shoulder. 

He reaches down without any further urging and frees himself with reckless, hurried movements. Removing the armor and pulling down the tight blacks he wears underneath, he forces himself back between your thighs. With a steady hand, he tugs your underclothes to the side, burying himself inside you in one slow, firm stroke. 

Every thought of this is so terribly wrong is instantly drowned out by the feeling of him, right where he's meant to be.

His mouth falls open and you feel yourself throbbing around him, the wetness between your legs dripping down onto the inside of your robe. 

"Fuck," you bite out, overwhelmed, and he leans forward to kiss you, coating himself in your slick before he starts to move, stretching you with a deep, delicious ache.

Your own robes are falling back down around your thighs as he rocks slowly up into you, filling you so deep it makes you gasp while the heavy mantle draped from his shoulders brushes your knees. You drag your mouth away from his for a moment to drink in the sight of him as he thrusts into you, still wearing a glove on one hand and the emblazoned symbol of the Republic on his shoulder. Dashing. Regal. Covered between his legs in your dripping mess.

His body curls into you, both his hands now finding your waist and pulling you tight. The more he fucks himself into you, the more he pulls you off the table, and soon you're hanging off the edge, clinging onto him and whimpering your adulation into the hard, smooth surface of his chestplate. 

"Missed you so much," you cry out as he drives his cock into you over and over, the rawness of your confession made filthy with the sound of him rutting uncontrollably into your tight, aching cunt. "Thought about you all the time."

He moans, then stifles it halfway out, seeming to suddenly remember where you both are. "Stop. Don't- don't say such things."

"I did," you tell him, closing your eyes. One of your hands is clutching at his chest and the other is fisted up into a ball, tugging his cape as he crushes his hips into yours, pounding you into the table. "I couldn't stop thinking of you."

"Ah-" he tightens his grip, hips briefly losing their rhythm. "Young one, please-"

It suddenly occurs to you that he's not scolding you for your attachment. He's trying hold off at the brink of orgasm, and your words are getting him there. The words you'd never imagined confessing to him. The ones you'd buried so deeply for so long. 

"Obi Wan." You throw your arms around his neck and let him fuck you into oblivion. You kiss his neck and whisper into his ear, "Forgive me. I thought of you at night, when I couldn't help myself."

He comes, gasping, inside you. Your pussy spasms hard at the sound of his broken moans, the wet heat of his orgasm gushing into you. It sends you over the edge, your vision blurring white with pleasure. You dig your nails into his neck, sobbing senseless words as you come so hard it's almost painful. 

When you start to come down, your chest is shaking with every breath, and he keeps easing his cock in and out of you until you feel the warm spurts of cum pulsing inside you finally slow. You wish you could have felt him in the Force as he came, but of course neither of you could have risked lowering your guard and potentially allowing the hundreds of Force-sensitives on Coruscant feel it, too. For now, reaching out to hold your palm to his face and pulling him close to kiss him deeply as he leaks out of you, desecrating your robes, will have to do. 

When he pulls out, you're both still panting. He brushes the hair from his face and despite the guilt painted all over him, he's glowing. 

"Are you alright?" 

It's the last thing you'd expected him to ask, but so in his nature that you can't help but give a light laugh and kiss him again. 

"I'm alright."

For the first time in so long, you really do feel it. In spite of your uncertain future and the fate of the galaxy, in this moment, you truly feel closer to peace than you've ever been. Because you finally understand - your feelings for him can't be denied, or ignored, or fought. They just are.

He holds you for a long time, kissing you softly, and when he extricates himself from your arms, it's slowly and with great care. You cover yourself, wrapping back up in your outer robes. He's dressed again soon after, armor back in place, and he bends down to retrieve his glove, then looks back at you. "Are you certain you're alright?"

You ease yourself back to the floor. "I am. Are you?"

His gaze is torn as he takes you slowly back in his arms. "Yes."

You kiss him again, softly. "Then we're both alright."

He gives a sigh. "This... this latest of our mistakes..."

"We both knew what we were doing," you assure him. "And if it changes nothing, I'm not sorry happened."

His eyes widen just slightly, and he searches your gaze. "Darling, of course it- of course it changes nothing." 

His demeanor has shifted completely, and he's looking at you with such deep concern that it nearly makes you smile. You knew that things couldn't change outside of the two of you. What you had meant was that maybe this didn't have to be the end. That maybe this could happen again. Maybe it didn't have to destroy you. But before you can say as much, he's still speaking. 

"My heart," Obi Wan says quietly, "Would be yours, if it were mine to give."

Your knees nearly give out where you stand, and the planet seems to spin off its axis. 

"Wh- what?" you whisper. 

He doesn't repeat himself. Just looks at you with such honesty that it tears you apart. 

You gather all your strength to keep from begging him to explain further. There's something more important you need to ask again. Maybe, just maybe, he will have changed his mind.

"And... Utapau?"

The warmth in his gaze evaporates. There's a tense silence before he slowly answers, "I... will not make a promise I cannot keep."

"But," you start, "My- my visions... Obi Wan, you can't just ignore this."

"You are mistaking me for someone with a choice."

His words fall heavy on you. All of the hope you'd had a moment ago has vanished. He leans in to kiss you once more, but you hardly feel him touch your lips.

"We've stayed here too long," he tells you, sounding a million parsecs away. "Will you come to my quarters later? Perhaps we can meditate and find the answers we both seek."

You almost answer yes. The rest of the world seems so unimportant right now. A distant afterthought. 

But you have orders. Even if it feels like swallowing glass, you have to try to let this go for now, and focus on the greater good.

"I... should find Anakin. There are a lot of things I need to get in place first."

"Right," he says, stepping back. "Yes, of course."

"Tomorrow?"

He shakes his head. "I will be with the council all day."

A quiet beat passes between you. 

"We will talk again, when time allows," he says, with a finality that frightens you a little. But you remind yourself, he would not have said it if there was no hope. 

You kiss him again, long and deep, before you leave. 

"Be safe, Obi Wan."

He knows what you mean, and he doesn't reply. But he bows his head slightly to let you know he's heard you, as you walk out the door. 

--

The sun has set, and by the time you've reached your quarters to shower and change clothes, the temple is beginning to quiet down for the evening. So when you hear someone moving around in your quarters, it seems unlikely to be a friendly visit. 

Obi Wan would have knocked. Or he would have the courtesy to let you sense him. What you sense now is... cold. Dark. Empty. 

Your lightsaber, not yet activated, is in your hand by the time you step out of the fresher. You're wrapped in a clean robe, holding it tight. 

"Hello?" you call out, stepping into the main room. A shudder runs down your back when you get a clear sense of who or what it is. It's familiar, yet somehow different. His face isn't one that you recognize.

"Now, now," he says, smiling. "There's no need for that." He nods to the saber hilt. "No use for it, either."

"Who are you?" you ask, not wasting time with fear or confusion. You need answers. 

"A friend, my dear," he answers casually. "Here to congratulate you on a job well done."

Your eyes are fixed on him, waiting for him to make any type of aggressive move. "What job would that be?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "The job you begged of me, of course. To save your master's life."

You hesitate. "I... couldn't do it. I tried. But..."

"Trust me, child. It is done." He looks to the side, clearly pretending a thought has just occurred to him. "Well, nearly."

You try to resist playing this game with him, of question after question going unanswered. But you need to know. 

"What do you mean, nearly?"

Still holding a smirk, he strides closer. He knows he has you, now. He knows you won't strike him down until he talks. "Just what I say. That we have not yet reached the end. There is more to be done."

As he nears you, the chill that grips your spine nearly makes you take a step back. Your thumb twitches on your saber. But you keep quiet, and let him talk. 

"And to do it, you will need my help."

You bite the inside of your lip, choosing your words carefully. "And if I don't?"

"Then he will suffer."

Your blade explodes into light. "At whose hands? Yours?"

He hardly seems to notice your weapon, moving steadily closer and shaking his head. "Of course not." He stretches an arm toward you in what seems to be a peaceful gesture. "I can show you."

You hold your lightsaber steady for a long time, not answering. This is foolish and dangerous. You should lunge at him. Tell him to leave. Tell all of this to the council. 

You lower your arm. He steps closer, and the visions pass into your consciousness.

Flames. Lava. Cries of anguish. The pain of a betrayal so deep that it seems to wrend your heart from your body.

Flashes of blue, searing, with the intent to kill.

Hatred. Screaming. Death. No - not just death. The utter destruction of a soul.

The depth of the pain surges through you and you fall to your knees, hitting the ground with tears pouring down your face. 

He hadn't shown you anything. Not really. You don't know who has done this to Obi Wan. You don't have any idea of the events that will take place. All you know for certain is that it is real. A pain so great that death would have been a mercy. 

You swallow, wiping the tears from your eyes, and gaze up at the dark figure above you. "Who," you rasp brokenly, "are you?"

He tilts his head forward, looking down at you. "I have no name. Not one that can be spoken." He chuckles. "You've known my sister well. And your people knew my father long ago. So, I suppose you could call me... brother."

His answer only leaves you more lost. But there's only one thing that matters. "And you know for certain that all of these things will happen... to my master?"

He nods slowly. "Unless you let me help you."

Your chest is still pounding, throat burning hot with held-back tears. You lower your eyes to the floor, knowing the path you are taking can only lead to ruin. But a choice that would allow Obi Wan to suffer as you've just seen is no choice at all. Steeling your resolve, you meet his burning gaze. 

"What must I do?"

--

A/N: Thanks, as always, for reading. If you'd like to be added to the taglist (with only one chapter left lol) feel free to comment or message me.

On a side note, asks are still open if anyone is interested in my WIPs as listed here.

Taglist: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedcatimages @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @impossibleprincess35 @thegreatwicked @mostthingskenobi @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer

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#obi wan kenobi × reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obiwan #fanfic #obi wan x reader smut #obi wan x reader #smut

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: The Tsumiki years

Summery: it wasn't always just you, Your Father and Megumi. Once there were four (a prologue for the Dad! Gojou verse that doesn't have a name, and if you want more of it, check out my #demon mode tag)

Warning(s): possessive behavior, parentification, dead dove do not eat, this is pretty tame actually, belittling.

Request(s): none

When you were young you didn't have the words for what Gojou your father did to you. Sometimes when you think about telling people, even though you know it'd get them killed or hurt or something worse then any of that, you still don't have the words.

He brought Megumi and Tsumiki to you maybe a few something after you were taken. You're not sure. Barely remember them coming (liar).

"Hello?" A warm little voice says, "are you alright?" You shake your head wildly, and the voice hums. "Can you look at me? It's rude not to look at people when they're talking to you. You know that. He's told you a couple times.

You look away from the couch only to see a girl with pretty blue eyes staring at you with something you don't know. "Why are you crying?" She asks, edging her way into the narrow spot behind the couch. There's a boy behind her, watching you with green, green, eyes. You don't want to look at him, reminds you too much of Him.

Once the girl is close, she takes your hand from your person, half humming a lullaby. "I don't know why you're sad but maybe if you come out, you'll feel better." You won't, you know that but you follow th girl anyways, keeping a hand tucked in hers.

He's waiting for you outside of the couch area, clearly amused with your rebellion. "This is Tsumiki," He introduces the girl, "and Megumi," the boy. He's got a weird name for a boy. You tell him so. He looks pissed for a moment before the now named Tsumiki scolds you. "Not nice. He can't choose his name you know." With that she walks away, the one named Megumi, right on her heels.

Somehow you feel bad, like you shouldn't have done it. She reminds you of your mom, warm and stern and something a little bit scary. "I explained to Tsumiki and Megumi that you're still adjusting here, that I only adopted you recently and to give you a little bit of space." He says softly, "They will tell me if you run away sweetie." You hate pet names, they make you want to scream. He doesn't seem to care.

You were so naive them, actually thought that he was lying. You know better know. Megumi has always been on your father's side and when she was... here , so was Tsumiki.

There were good times, and you know that. Know that Tsumiki wanted you to be happy with them and sometimes you think she could have understood. That's not to say that there weren't good times, there were but somehow your father always managed to ruin them.

"Miki that isn't how you do it!" you snap, tugging the doll away from her. You've always liked to create, to do fashion and you've been trying to show her what you like to do.

Your Father (not dad, never dad even little you knows better then that) keeps you in dolls and gets you new things for them when he says you've been good. Tsumiki likes to play with you but you don't know how to explain to her that she doesn't do it right, that house has a mom and a dad and not just a dad and siblings.

Megumi doesn't like to play at all but he'll watch sometimes or sit near with his dogs. He's gotten good at manifesting them, something that you aren't allowed to do. Your Father says that you are too weak, too soft to ever use the cursed energy that you know you have because you can make flowers grow and wilt whereas Tsumiki can only see, not use. She doesn't seem to mind though, likes watching, and somehow even bosses your father around. She's big and strong.

Your Father walks in just as you've managed to convince Tsumiki that a mom is important, even though she thinks that moms are silly. They're aren't lots of things that Miki thinks are silly but when she does there isn't any telling her anything else. "What's going on here?" He asks, and Megumi looks away from his dogs, says "They're trying to decide if you need a mom for house." Your Father hums, and takes a doll away, and says, "Mom's don't do anything. That's why we have older sisters." Tsumiki beams and you feel... sad. Moms are important but maybe they aren't as important as sisters?

Tsumiki ran the house with a gentle iron fist and by the time you and Megumi were ten even Your Father was listening to her. Like cleaning day. You still feel... something when you think about cleaning day.

Tsumiki wakes everyone up in the early morning, Megumi following at her side. As much as the two of them argue, he's always at her side, glaring at the shadows when they get too rowdy which doesn't happen very often. Megumi is strict with his shadows (with you). There's a knock at the door and Tsumiki goes to answer it.

"Satoru-san," Tsumiki trills and your blood goes cold, "You remembered that it's cleaning day!" There are supplies in his hands and a splatter of blood on his face. Tsumiki doesn't seem to care.

She tried to reason it out once, explained to you that the people your Father kills aren't Family so it doesn't really matter in the long run, not to someone who's been raised by assassins and killers her whole life. You are glad to this day that you never forgot the Before.

Your Father smiles at Tsumiki and runs gentle fingers through her hair. "You've been reminding everyone since Monday," he says and he's so much gentler with Tsumiki and Megumi then you, never makes them feel worthless and weak even though you have more cursed energy then Tsumiki.

"I have," She says, "because I can't let you run away from helping". Your Father snorts, and watches for Megumi who's slinked over and is looking at him with a critical eye. "You're going to get blood on Miki's carpet. Go wash up." It's funny to watch the man who took everything (what did you even have before him? Don't you belong here? what happened to you?) get bossed around by someone exactly your age (it doesn't feel that way. Megumi isn't a child but he is a threat).

Your Father ruffles Megumi's hair and he snaps at him with teeth. Megumi's teeth are a little too sharp to be human teeth. You shudder. He notices, gives you an itty bitty little smile.

"You leave my baby alone Satoru." Tsumiki says lightly, the only person that Satoru even really thinks about listening to, and all of you get to cleaning.

You tackle the cabinets and it's kind of soothing, to do something that you can't be criticized for.

Megumi cleans the living room, using his shadows to wipe the places he can't get to. You like watching him, especially when he's happy like this.

Tsumiki does laundry, pile after pile get folded by her sure, steady hands, the same ones that chop up dinner every night, (the same ones that follow Your Father's instructions), the same ones that tuck you in to this day, humming a lullaby as you fall asleep.

Your Father cleans the bedrooms, mostly his because Tsumiki insists that yours needs to be clean and Megumi is a neat freak on his own, thankfully for everyone because he can tsumiki share a bedroom.

No one but the four of you are aloud here. Tsumiki likes it clean anyways, says that it's good to have a clean mind for a steady soul. You want it to be Monday already, you like school even if Megumi is in your class and no one wants to talk to you cause he's so scary.

You miss Tsumiki, for a lot of reasons.

Now as you stare blankly at the cell that contains you, you wish she was here to talk sense into everyone.

#yandere #platonic yandere #yandere writing prompts #yandere platonic #demon mode #yandere gojo #yandere megumi #jjk #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

11. The Missing Songbird

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

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Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

(Y/n) (l/n) lay frozen in that chamber for centuries. Stuck in a dreamland where everything was perfect. He should’ve left her there. She had peace in a sleep filled with dreams that would never come true.

But he was bored. He wanted a life, and a family, and no one was letting her out on their own accord. So why not him? He already knew everything about her. He could praise her and provide a good life for her here in the Vaults.

Henry, now commonly known as Hank MacLean wanders to Vault 31. Searching row after row of frozen chambers until he came across what he was looking for. Posted up in the seat, blue lips, and frosted lashes (y/n) (l/n) lay undisturbed. He smiles, pressing all the needed codes for her release. He injects her with a syringe. Just a little memory wipe to make the process easier on his part. He transports her to Vault 33, setting her up on the metal examination table and hooking an IV into her arm. All he could do was wait. He wouldn’t be so bored anymore with her around.

~

I open my eyes but quickly close them again due to the bright white light. I reach out into the air, my body weak. “Help,” I whisper with the little energy I have in my bones. My throat was dry and my lips were numb. My vision comes soon after the feeling in my fingertips. I look down at myself, seeing a blue suit lined with yellow. I choak out a sob, not entirely sure of why I’m sad. I was so confused. I couldn’t remember anything. The overwhelming feeling of fear taking root.

I look around quickly through tear-soaked eyes. I’m lying on a table, an IV drip in my arm. I start to breathe heavily. Was I sick? Did I pass out? Where was everyone? Where was I?

Who am I?

Then I heard it, “You’re alright. Would you like some help sitting up?” A single voice that calmed the nerves. I looked up to see a man. A small, weak man, with a wide friendly smile, “My name, is Hank. Everything is okay. Do you remember where you were before you fainted? Why you were running?” I stare at him in confusion. I shake my head, covering my eyes. “I… I don’t remember anything.” Hank pressed a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ll grab a tray of food and some water and be right back. You must be starving.” I feel my anxiety rising as he steps away. The fear of being alone again with unanswered questions claws at my brain. “Wait…” I reach for him, this stranger. “Would you stay? Please?” Hanks's smile spreads over his cheeks, “of course I will.”

Day after day Hank would arrive with breakfast, spending the hours of the day teaching me about the Vaults and how the community functions. It sounded like a dream. “I have your file from the Overseer of 31,” Hank excitedly says as he types away on his Pip-Boy. “So soon? I thought you said it would take them a week.” Hank smiles down at his screen. “It has your name.” A smile grows on my face.

A real name. My name! Something factual I could hold onto in this sea of uncertainty. I grab his arm tugging him close, looking down at the screen. I read the name slowly, the information warming my chest. “Melody Richards.” Hank smiles at me, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

I sit with a grin, content with being Melody. Content with being someone.

“Everyone will love you, Melody,” Hank reassured me as he walked us down the corridor, arm in arm. Vault 33 had put together an entire function just for me. To welcome me into their community.

Life was good. I felt right at home in Vault 33 with Hank. He took care of me. He made sure I was always happy. It was hard for me to believe sadness was still an emotion I could have. We married soon after, and my days were happy. I was assigned to teaching, which I was surprisingly good at. Maybe I was a teacher in my past life. It had been a year and Hank and I were just so happy. The daily routine is memorized by my brain. Every day just like the last. A predictable happy day. Until one individual day when everything changed.

“Girls, is there something you’d like to say,” I ask politely as a group of 3 girls. The bell has rung, and class is over, but yet they remain in their seats. They giggle as they look at me. I feel myself shrink. Was something on my face?

Becca, a 13-year-old girl with long blonde hair smiles at me. “You look just like Mary from that movie we just saw last night. She’s so pretty.” I tilt my head, “I didn’t know I missed movie night! I wish I had known.” The girls jump in excitement, “We’re about to go watch it again! Do you want to come? We need a chaperone anyway.”

It was only 3:00, I didn’t have to make dinner for another hour or so. I could use a little break. I shrug my shoulders, “Sure, why not? Lead the way, girls.”

They skipped down the hall telling me all I needed to know about the film. “So Mary is a singer and she works for this bad guy who owns the club. Bill, the detective is trying to catch the club owner but falls for the singer in the process. He saves her and then she tells him off! And he chases her in the rain! They are so cute! Ugh! I wish I could meet someone like that.”

We take our seats in the theater, waiting for the picture to roll. The screen lights up, and a nightclub scene appears. The picture drifts to a stage where a stunning young woman walks through the curtain. She begins to sing. Her voice swims through the room beautifully. I watch in amazement as she belts the song. I wish I could sing like that.

A man enters to club and is instantly taken by Mary. She sings to him, reaching out. He trails from table to table until he takes a seat in the very front. She walks down sits on his table and finishes her song. The man smiles at her. It warms my chest to see a new love.

I did look similar, but in no way was I more than a resembling face to the old actress.

At the dock Bill pulls her away from gunfire, shielding her in the street. “You have to go, Mary.” She shakes her head, “I told you. I can handle myself.” He turns to her, cups her cheeks, and brings her in close for a passionate kiss. “I know you can, but if you get hurt. I won’t be able to handle myself.” He stroked her cheek lightly.

In such focus, I don’t think twice about the cold ghostly touch on my own cheek. I watch in a trance as they express their feelings. I run my fingertips over my lips, feeling a light tingling. What a reaction! This film was something else. The two actors sold the roles. They acted just like they really loved each other. The film finished and I was hooked.

The next few days I rented every film and every record by (y/n) (l/n). I danced in the kitchen as I made dinner. Spinning around I place the meal into the oven.

Hank walks in, a confused look present. I giggle and grab his hands. “Dance with me.” I hum lightly to the song as I attempt to get him to join. He doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns the record off. I watch him, and an unfamiliar clench in my chest rises. His eyes bore into mine. “Melody, where did you get that?” His stare is lined with a nervous smile. “The library. They’ve started renting out movies and records now.” He nods as he watches me. I return to cooking dinner silently. I turn my head to look at Hank. He reads the back of the record case with furrowed brows.

The cover stands out. She really was beautiful. Clad in a silky red dress, her hair done nicely, and makeup to perfection. “Some of my students said I look like her.” I smile at the thought of being that stunning. Hank looks at me, no expression on his face. “I don’t see it.” He gathers up the films and records into a pile. “I’m not a big fan of this type of thing. You’re so much better, Melody. I don’t want you to get a complex." Hank exits the vault without another word.

The right thing to do would be to listen to him. he was my husband and the voice of reason in the dynamic. However, I can hear someone. Someone deep down calling out. Begging me to sing those songs. I lay in the bed staring blankly at the wall. Someone won’t let me rest. Someone is clawing at my skin from the inside out begging to escape. I look at Hank. The man I had come to know seemed like a stranger. Such an out-of-character act for him. He loved music, any type.

I feel the haunting pull. Forcing me to get out of bed and slowly creep down the illuminated hall. I wonder, feeling my feet carry their way. I stop at the doors to the theater. The invisible tug pulls me into the room. The only light was upon the stage. A ghostly smile grows on my face as I advance to the stage. I stand on the elevated wooden floor, looking out over the rows of seats.

I can’t explain why or how, but I began to sing. A song I had never known or heard begins rolling out of my mouth. Emotion taking over my body. This lost soul pulling their way to the light.

“I can hear you but I won't

Some look for trouble while others don't

There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day

And ignore your whispers, which I wish would go away”

I see the mist of a figure seated in the middle. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. He feels so familiar. Something inside myself was wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a singer. I wasn’t a performer.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear

And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear

Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls

I'm sorry, secret siren but I'm blocking out your calls

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new

I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The figure is closer now, allowing the light to bleed into their frame. He stands from his seat, taking slow steps towards the stage. I fall to my keens awaiting him. It was the only thing that felt right.

“What do you want? 'Cause you've been keeping me awake

Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

It’s him. The man from the films. He pulls himself onto the stage, cupping my face in his palms. The warmth of his hands has me believing he’s real. He’s here with me.

“Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Into the unknown

Into the unknown

Into the unknown”

I cling to him as I sing. His smile couldn’t widen anymore. His eyes dazzling as he watches me. His touch pulled the lost soul to the surface. Pulling her out and tossing Melody inside the cage.

This has been an entire trick. I see my entire past in his orbs. The movie, the secret meetings, the months of sadness, the party, the divorce, the engagement, Barb, and Vault Tech…

I breathe heavily as I finish the song. I stare at my hands I allow a tearful laugh to escape. I'm back... I'm me... The heavy weight of the unknown universe is gone.

It's just Cooper and I. I look up expecting to see him, but I'm alone. "Cooper?" I call out only to be met with my echo. The doors in the back open swiftly. I smile watching his figure walk down the dark path.

"Cooper." I go to run into his arms, but I stop at the sound of the voice, "You just couldn't leave it alone. Could you?" Hank advances the stage, stalking me with his eyes. "Henry." I back away with each step he takes.

"Where is he?" He shrugs, "Probably dead." He extends a hand, "Why don't you just come back with me? We have a good life." I shake my head, my back hitting the lush red curtains. "You tricked me!" Henry tosses his head back with a dark laugh. "I saved YOU!"

He lunged at me, grabbing my frame in his grasp. I scream as I struggle against him. "No!" I kick against him, "I'm not going back!" Tears fall from my eyes, "COOPER!" I ball as I violently thrash against Henry. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Shaking his head he holds me down. "I've got an idea on how to make you more... compliant." He stabs the needle into my neck. Second after second, I feel my limbs weaken. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I lost. Falling into my death that was disguised as a restful slumber.

~

Hank MacLean buzzed around the lab, watching the machine craft such a perfect specimen. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers lowly, in shock, he had never seen such an astonishing creation.

Fastened in a tube lay a newly built machine, recreated from past generations, but was lost, until he reconstructed it… reconstruccted her. He recreated her from the ruins she once was. Sitting in the dark storage unit, rotting away in the grave of all the failed experiments and equipment. Where the past had failed the future will succeed.

The young Hank overlooked the newly finished machine. She was sparkly. Her skin was smooth, her lashes long, her cheeks the color of rose, her lips plump, makeup drew on to perfection. She looked just like she did in the movies.

With one finger he types a single code into the computer system with haste. As the shield opens fog rolls out of the tube, kissing the floor. Her eyes open, knitting her brows together. A calmness washed over her. She steps out of the chamber completely nude. She smiles at the small madman. “Hi there, I’m, Melody. How can I be of assistance, Mr. MacLean?”

She was easier to… control. Hank had an easy life in the vaults, mostly because his synthetic humanoid wife listened to his every command without question She cooked his favorite meals, and cleaned until the home was spic can span. She was the perfect wife. What else could he want?

Short answer? He wanted Rose. One of the newcomers in a trade with Vault 32. He had become obsessed with her. Her beauty was impeccable. Not fake like Melody’s drawn-on liner. She was the sweetest creature he had ever come to know. Rose was made for him. Unlike Melody who Hank crafted to fit his narrative. However, this had to be fate. No one had made his heart beat like Rose. That night as he returned home for dinner. He had a plan. One final act and he would be free to woo Rose. To have and to hold her forever. He just had to get rid of Melody first.

He hauled her mechanical body to the top floor, disposing of her and all of the remaining items. Her belongings, movies, albums, clothes. Anything Hank had hidden away to shield the truth from her. It worked for some time. He wanted more. He had the perfect wife, but he wanted real raw emotions. Yes, she has a real brain and a heart, but it never truly belonged to him. She would forever feel the attachment to the old actor long gone with the land.

He set everything down with a huff. He took one glance at her cold emotionless face before looking down at his wrist to input the codes. The codes to shut her off, to put her to death once and for all.

Just as he brings his finger down to hit the last number, his finger curls around his hand, and forcefully turns it upwards. The synthetic copy of (y/n) holds Hanks's wrist with a bone-crushing grip. She leans in, dark eyes as she bends his wrist to look at the screen.

“You were going to shut me off?” She twitches her head. An internal battle raged in her mind. Two lives battle for dominance, but clash together in a confusing mixture. Hank yelps as he tries to hit the last number, but she is faster. She quickly breaks his other wrist. He screams in agony, glaring at her. “You bitch!” He grits his teeth as he tries to grab ahold of her. She kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

She twitches as she grabs the box in her hands.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

The internal voice screams the commands. She swiftly opens the vault door, the sunlight shining in blinding her. She doesn’t look back at the sorry excuse of the man who had created such a machine. She left in search of something unknown.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout #fallout imagine #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fallout #fallout ghoul #walton goggins #the ghoul fallout

[ojamayellow]

Earthspark spoilers. It's time for my opinions and theories.

Before I start, I am aware of the writers changing. I will put that into consideration in this. And for the record, I did enjoy Season 2 so far, but I admit it has nothing on S1 for now.

First two episodes were really good, I loved the Breakdad moments, I love Aftermath and we get a glimpse on how the Decepticons have been operating. 2nd episode with the Quintesson gave us some lore and suspense, and I always love a Mo and Thrash tag team. These episodes felt... right for Earthspark, but not as Season 2 starters? If that makes sense.

Hashtag's alt mode is neat, but I miss her chunkiness in robot mode. Made her feel more distinct you know? But I'm with the others saying VAL being an AI in Hashtag's mind is really weird considering what Mandroid did. Maybe she's coping? I have a theory that this VAL might be manipulated in a future episode to control Hashtag, but for the sake of Hashtag's well-being, I HOPE this doesn't happen. (Also, hi Shockwave).

Carnival episode. Is Schloder reduced to an incidental now? I hope not and that he becomes important as well. But also, I figure its a traveling carnival/circus, which makes sense to why we haven't seen this Fairemaestro before, and the little interaction with Swindle shows up 'oh yeah he's a bad guy' already. But you can't just tease a GIANT COSMOS-LOOKING RIDE AND THEN 'OH BTW ITS COSMOS' LAST FEW MINUTES. If Cosmos doesn't show up in later episodes I'll be so disappointed, like...it's freakin' Cosmos! <-Perfect design though. *chef kiss*

I do think the Robby crush on Izzy was cute, but it being involved with the plot felt....eh? It was like, nothingburger to me.

JBAM episode. I LOVED THEM. Jawbreaker has clearly gotten more comfortable with himself and such since Grimlock, but him not taking a hint from Aftermath (who was being direct) reminds me of my younger self. <-Was an insane chatterbox and would not shut up no matter what was said to me.

But the contaminated energon stuff like, yeah callback to that weird bear. Sorry if I forgot, but back in S1, was there a reason GHOST was just leaving it around? I don't remember. And what's with the horrific energon mushrooms, and those poor animals? I know people who are going to be turned off from this show just from that alone, but at least it's 'off screen'? But also Aftermath betraying Jawbreaker hurts, I was hoping he'd like, impress Breakdown with the stolen water BUT NOPE, NO MORE AFTERMATH AND BREAKDAD STUFF. (I know Aftermath was like, not 'what did you just call me' when he was called Son but, cmon!!)

Spitfire episode. I personally think this episode went hard. Gave me Sonic VS Metal Sonic vibes. The fight scenes were really done well, and the tension was so good! To me, Spitfire wanted to be superior but felt inferior when not chosen for the mission, so that desire to be the best consumed her. I'm personally a big fan of this episode, and Alex is awesome. And so was Spitfire, I'm kinda obsessed with her.

Bodyswap episode. Always love a good bodyswap scenario, but somehow this felt... weak. It's plausible for the others to believe Spitfire (as Twitch) had a scrambled processor from the previous episode BUT the fact Wheeljack was the first to catch on? Before a Malto? I'm SO GLAD they referred to Dad2 again but, IDK, feels... strange to me.

Trailer episode. Was kinda nothingburger again? It felt like they needed to add SOMETHING before the horrors of the final two episodes, but maybe I just need to re-watch it because I didn't feel much from it. Optimus was clearly getting aggravated and uncomfortable, which was making me uncomfortable. But also, OPLITA? COMPLICATED? If they don't ever bring this up again I might be a bit...bitter.

And finally, the Witwicky 2-Parter. My anxiety was through the roof here, but I also kinda figured it out early that a Titan was involved. Was still surprised though, and her design is awesome?! But what was making me panic more than anything was Hashtag was going to see Starscream. Yes I know, a one-episode bond may not mean much, but we all had hopes, yeah? Anyway, I love nasty bitch Starscream. It's what makes him Starscream. And I do think what he did was in-character. But it would feel off if Earthspark was someone's introduction to Starscream, you know? This specific one, who's attitude told the audience 'I hate Megatron he abused me so I'd be a better leader than him'. But also...

The scene with him killing the Chaos Terrans was a fucking horror movie. It does a lot when I am SCARED OF STARSCREAM. I wish he didn't do it, but he also needed the shards. If the Autobots/Maltos needed the shards from the Terrans, how would they do it? Would they hesitate to find a safer way to keep the Chaos Terrans alive? Or would there be some sort of urgency? It really makes me think, but Starscream wanted those shards ASAP, he does what he need to do to get what he wants, he's Starscream. A manipulative, traitorous bitch who almost never gets his way in the end.

But you might be wondering, "Kit did you feel like the character development was thrown away for Starscream?" Well, yes and no.

It's really upsetting how Starscream twisted his advice to Hashtag. Truly upsetting. But it also does feel like something a Starscream would do. I keep flip-flopping between "yeah this makes sense" and "um what the FUCK writers". See what I mean by "yes and no?" And Hashtag calling Starscream worse than Megatron AND Screamer taking it as a compliment? Again, very Starscream thing to do, but I think ES! Starscream should've been at least a bit offended?! And out of all bots to call him the worst... Why did it have to be Hashtag? I guess it has more 'meaning', but still...

My theory (or moreso, hopeful thinking) is that Starscream re-invented his advice to Hashtag so he could get detached from her. Starscream had a mission, a personal selfish goal, and he needed to take care of HIMSELF, no friendship. Only comrades willing to follow him, and the Maltos were not those comrades.

My other theory (which I gained from seeing someone on twitter saying this) is that the Chaos Terrans DIDN'T GREY OUT FROM DEATH. Therefore, there is a chance they can return. Maybe something from the Allspark or Matrix or some kinda macguffin will help?! And I sure hope they come back, because they could learn to be good (but still cheeky) and we can bring back the messages and theming from Season 1! Right, right?

As for 'Starscream the child killer'...look, it's upsetting I know. But like I said, selfish goals. And while I am not familiar with every Starscream from different canons, I've met enough versions. Other Starscreams have have committed war crimes, blew up a human hospital, threatened to kill innocents, committed war crimes, wanted to kill everyone to end a war, squished humans in his servos... (yes I know Skybound is more for an adult audience than kids but I'm just saying). War crimes. I am not excusing Starscream's actions here, but when he needs something, he'll do what it takes to get it, for his own selfish goals. It makes sense but I also feel its wrong and I agree with other fans who were quite upset with this scenario. If the Chaos Terrans don't come back I'll be really sad.

Again, I've considered the fact this show has new writers, which is unfortunate. I saw someone on here say that Season 2 (so far) feels like a bootlegged version of S1, which is how I feel about it. I did enjoy the episodes, but they were a bit messy. Also, the lack of Nightshade and honorary family member Bumblebee really made me sad. Was it a script decision, or could they not afford Danny Pudi enough because they used the money on the new cast like Flea? (Don't quote me on like, celebrity net worth here). The lack of Nightshade though is very suspicious though, considering how big of a deal it was for them to exist as a non-binary character.

Side note, Shockwave. I'm glad he finds Cybertron itself more important than creating a New Cybertron, it feels right for him to not care about Earth. But if he going to attempt to lead now? Or something?

If you read this, thanks! If you have any responses feel free to reply or reblog. Feel free to reblog in general, I love hearing opinions and such.

#earthspark spoilers #earthspark #transformers earthspark #transformers #kit.txt #tfe

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 1 - DBDA Week

Day 1 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Things Unsaid

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne&Crystal Palace&Charles Rowland

Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff

TW: None

--

“Since this seems to be continuing,” Edwin said while motioning between him and Charles with his free hand. “I think I should tell you about what happened with the Cat King.”

Charles grimaced for a moment, before nodding encouragingly. Even if he appreciated the attempt at understanding silence, Edwin could practically hear the ‘so something did happen!’ in his eyes.

“He, well…” Edwin knew it had been his own conscious decision to start that particular conversation, but now that it was time to actually say the words, he couldn't find them. He exhaled a breath he didn't need. “He did try to get frisky with me.” He went for, remembering the word Charles had used at the time to describe the… ordeal.

“I knew it, that bastard,” Charles was moving to get up from the couch, to do what exactly, Edwin didn't know. It had been almost three years since the events of Port Townsend, it wouldn't make any sense for him to go there and find the Cat King after so long. 

Edwin pulled with his left hand, where his fingers were already loosely entwined with Charles’, effectively stopping him from whatever revenge plan he was concocting.

“Nothing happened,” Edwin continued, his voice soft. “And it was nothing… non-consensual.” The words felt weird on his tongue, even if he knew he was using them correctly in the context, and it was the best way to convey the message without risk of misunderstandings.

Charles swallowed hard. “Does that mean you wanted something to happen?”

“I don’t think I knew what I wanted. It took me by surprise, because I thought those kinds of desires were never to be acknowledged. And seeing him touching me so carelessly, so freely. That was…” This time, Edwin wasn't sure what the right word could be. After some consideration, he ended with “interesting”.

“Hmm.”

Edwin tightened his grip on Charles’ fingers again. “You have nothing to worry about, I have never thought about him in that way since we left Port Townsend, and especially since, well… you know.”

It didn't seem to be enough for Charles, as he was still looking uneasy, insecure. Edwin wouldn't have it. A couple of months prior, he would never have dared to admit that to himself, let alone out loud, but considering how they were sitting across one another on the couch with their legs intertwined and Charles’ hand was caressing his knee with the same familiarity with which he would lean on his own, he felt a surge of boldness he had never thought he had in him and admitted:

“Now all of my fantasies are about you.”

Charles went incredibly still, his eyes lost focus, his hands froze in place.

“Is… something wrong?” Edwin tried to ask. He thought about moving away to give him some space, wondering if maybe he had gone too far with the implication. They had kissed multiple times but they had never talked about anything more physical. He didn’t know what to make of Charles’ reaction.

Before he could decide on a course of action, Crystal slammed the office door open.

She took a long look at the scene in front of her, then her gaze stopped pointedly on Edwin. “What happened? How did you break him?”

“I just said-” Edwin started explaining, but was brutally interrupted by Charles, who had finally found his voice back.

“It's nothing, I just needed a moment. You know, there's another case with an abusive father.” He said, like those words explained everything. 

It had the desired effect, Edwin thought, because Crystal stopped the interrogation immediately, and draped herself over Charles - and consequently over Edwin’s legs, much to his disapproval - to comfort him.

Of course, Charles’ words did explain everything, or they would have, except there was no abusive father, and no case.

Edwin untangled himself from the other two trying not to push Crystal on the ground while doing so, and moved to look out the window.

After a while, when she decided Charles looked comfortable enough, Crystal followed him and sat at his desk. Edwin almost hated to admit to himself that nothing about the situation was bothering him: not Crystal hugging Charles, nor her taking his usual place at the desk. She was that much part of the agency that he trusted her completely, almost the same way he trusted Charles. Even if, of course, the relationships between the three of them had considerably shifted during the years.

It wasn’t until a day later that Charles and Edwin had a chance to be alone again, and Edwin was determined to keep asking questions until he understood exactly what had happened to Charles. He was in “full stubborn research mode”, as Crystal used to call it.

There was no need, though, because Charles started speaking as soon as they passed through the door:

“I’m sorry about… Making up a case yesterday, I was worried you would tell Crystal the truth.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn't have said exactly the same thing I said to you.”

“Yes, you would have.” Charles continued, his smile turning more affectionate. Edwin had to admit that he was probably right. He had just been so confused and maybe Crystal could help him understand.

“Did it upset you?” He asked. “What I said?”

Charles shook his head. “No, of course not, it was just… Unexpected.” He moved closer, encircling Edwin's waist with his arms, so close their noses were brushing against each other.

“Why? You didn't think that I could want-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Charles pressed a small kiss on his lips, effectively shutting it. He stepped away then, looking decidedly lighter than he had the previous day. “No, I just didn't expect you to be able to say it so… what word did you use? Freely.”

Charles grinned, and slumped on the couch, patting the place next to him in invitation. It was so easy to slot into Charles’ arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and entwining their hands. It almost seemed like they had done nothing else for forty years, instead of just a few months.

“What about before the Cat King?” Charles asked when they were settled, Edwin’s fingers playing with the hem of Charles’ sleeve. “Have you ever thought about us… Shagging?”

“No, I would never have dared to even dream of it.”

Charles moved a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the shorter hair at Edwin's nape.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that now,” he said after a while. “But I would like it too, one day.”

Edwin smiled, turning to nuzzle Charles' neck and pressing a kiss there at the base of his jaw. “Whenever you are ready, I will be here. We have literally forever to figure it out.”

#deadboydetectivesappreciationweek #dbdcentral #renewdeadboydetectives #dbda #payneland #edwin payne #crystal palace #charles rowland

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 13

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka@blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress @starry-eyed-wild-child

Mike walked into the garage the next day with what can only be described as a shit eating grin, coffee in his hand and strutting like he had a secret that no one else knew. Leff looked at him with disdain.

"What? You get blown or something?" He asked as Mike plopped down in the chair.

"Can't I just have a good morning?" Mike challenged making Leff narrow his gaze at him.

"This isn't the girl scouts, wipe that gay ass grin off your face. We've got drops offs to do today." Leff opened the safe that sat on the desk and started pulling out guns. The sound of the door opening made Mike look over towards it and Leff just sighed.

"You're late." He called out.

"Seriously? Send a write up to HR." Y/n rolled her eyes as she crossed the garage and took Mike's coffee out of his hand to sip. Mike made no move to complain and Leff scrunched his face.

"You thinking swapping spit with him is a good idea?" Leff pointed out and Y/n shrugged.

"I'm not tonging his balls Leff. It's a fucking coffee cup." Y/n shot back making Mike chuckle.

"I mean, if that's on the menu-" Mike started to say but before Y/n could hit his arm, Leff slammed his drawer shut.

"Hold the fuck up...you two...you haven't...you aren't fucking around are you because I specifically told you both-"

"Jesus Leff is there actual work to be done today or are you cock watching your nephew today? I've got bills to pay and I'm not trying to keep having this conversation with you." Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. They both stood at an impasse and Mike just pushed up from the chair and snatched one of the guns from the desk.

"I'll be in the car..." He said going to tuck the fun in his back and Y/n took it from him.

"Don't be stupid. The last thing either of us want to do is take you to the hospital after you shoot your dick off. I'm driving." Leff gave Y/n a nod that he agreed with her taking the gun off of Mike but he still didn't like how chummy they were being. They carried on the rest of the day like that. Leff took in the little touches they shared whenever either of them went in to do dropoffs. How they would tease one another in those ways only two people who didn't realize they were flirting would.

Leff stews in his anger the entire day until all three of them end up back at the garage, counting the money.

"Seriously, why can't I have a gun? I know how to shoot a gun." Mike argued with Y/n as she put the guns in the safe.

"You can barely handle putting your cock in leather pants. The last thing you need is a gun." Y/n teased.

"I think we both know that's not true." Mike smirked at her and Leff shook his head.

"You know, I have to say I didn't expect this from you Y/n. I really thought you had better taste..." Leff's words made them both look up.

"What?" She asked confused.

"I mean the way you're leading my nephew around like a pathetic lost dog, I thought you were more into the guys that threw you around." Leff's words were harsh. Y/n narrowed her eyes at him.

"Leff what the fuck?" Mike spoke up and Y/n leaned on the table staring down at Leff.

"I don't remember asking you what your thoughts were on who I talk to." Y/n seethed.

"How easily you forget...you work for me Y/n. I can say whatever the fuck I want to you, treat you however the fuck I want or you can go back to spinning on a pole playing Russian Roulette with some Russian prick who likes to pistol wipe you." Leff sat in his chair, leaning forward to match her stance.

"Leff you're being a-"

"Shut the fuck up." Y/n put her hand up in Mike's face and he sat down quietly.

"I've had enough of your tough cock big brother act Leff. You want to run around this city holding his hand, be my guest. It's the least you could do for his mother but don't you dare sit there and think you're going to talk to me like I'm one of those common whores you fuck in your little shithole castle." Y/n gritted her teeth.

"If I want to fuck your nephew until his plum dumb stupid, I will. If I want to stop working for you and hop back on a pole for money, I will. I'm a grown ass bitch and I refuse to be treated like I'm less than honorable...especially after all the shit I've done for you." She pointed at him and he let out a sigh. He counted the money out and laid it on the table flat.

"You gonna pick up your take or would you like my little nephew here to slip it in your tits?" Leff leaned back in his chair knowing he had won this argument.

She kicked the chair into the table making Mike jump and Leff shook his head at her.

"Go fuck yourself." She shouted throwing him the middle finger as she stormed out of the garage. Mike looked between the two of them before huffing.

"You're a real dick, you know that?" Mike grabbed her money and ran out after her. Leff didn't like how protective Mike had already gotten with Y/n.

"Y/n! Wait up!" Mike waved the cash around and she spun around snatching it.

"Why are you letting him get you all riled up? You know he's a fucking asshole." Mike said out of breath.

"He needs to get over himself before I let his ass catch a stray bullet." Y/n lit a cigarette and put it into her mouth.

"Hey, I know he's a prick but let's not get trigger happy." Mike joked but Y/n glared at him, inhaling the nicotine.

"I honestly don't know why he's being so over the top with this big brother routine. He's never given a shit about anyone I've ever dated before." Mike shook his head and Y/n snorted.

"We're not dating. I let you eat my pussy, that's hardly going steady." Y/n argued. Mike felt a bit slighted but tried to play it off.

"Hey pussy eating is a gateway drug, I hear." He joked but she rolled her eyes.

"You and Leff think of yourselves so highly. Grow up." She got into her car and peeled out of the parking lot leaving Mike standing there feeling like a complete idiot.

#5lbs of Pressure #Movie: 5LBS of Pressure #One Shot Series #Fever Dreams #Fever Dreams Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Mike #Mike x Y/n