#I wish I was a little space creature so I could tell the moon how much I love her!!!
best friends with the moon!!!!!✨🌙💫
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Moonlit walk // Severus Snape x reader
Severus left a note for you on your desk to meet him outside when your final lesson was over for the night. You had been teaching the 6th year how to cast spells at and duel at night and returned to your office to see a little envelope and a letter inside. After clearing up the rest of the work and locking your office you went downstairs and out into the cold night, the wind bit at you slightly and you regretted not putting on a coat as you found Severus who lent against the stone brick of the castle.
"Good evening" you said, leaving against the wall next to him.
"(y/n)" he said, "Come" he put out his hand and you took it.
"Where are we going?" you asked, gripping Severus' hand slightly as you followed him down the pathway.
"For a moonlit walk" he said.
"Mysterious" you murmured, slightly leaning into Severus as you followed him past the lake, the moon and slight stars glittered against the slight ripples. It was quiet , the sound of owls and the wind being the only noise which cut through the darkness, apart from Severus' breathing.
Together you walked past the lake and into the black forest, winding through the trees. The branches slightly waved and you could hear the faraway sounds of the creatures of the forest, in any normal time you would be slightly unnerved, your wand close to you in your hand just in case of an attack. However, with Severus, you felt safe, seemingly his presence managing to ward away the many creatures of the forest.
Around half an hour of walking Severus stopped in a clearing. Severus sat and you sat beside him, however, his hands said other ways, pulling you into his warm lap and into his chest. You could feel his warm breath against your hair and his head next to yours. You shivered, the cold finally nipping at you now you had stopped walking. Severus hugged you closer, feeling your cold. "You did not bring a coat" was his words in your ear. "What a silly girl" he cooed. You rolled your eyes as Severus shifted slightly and unhooked his cloak, placing it around you for warmth. You snuggled into it, relaxing into Severus's warm body.
"I have been this far into the forest before" you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"It is west of the forest" Severus said quietly, his hand slipping under your top and stoking your stomach. "Close to where I collect bloodroot" he muttered.
You nodded, laying back into his chest and watching the stars as they glittered and winked down at you and him. "Sev" you said quietly, "an asteroid"
Severus looked up and watched as the asteroid passed earth. "4581 Asclepius" Severus said, "I believe it is 425,000 miles away" he said. "it was mentioned in the daily prophet"
"We should make a wish" you said quietly.
"A wish?" Severus asked, confused.
"It is a muggle thing" you said, looking up at the sky. "You make a wish when you see a shooting star"
"Technically it is not a shooting star but rather remnants of planetesimals" Severus said. You rolled your eyes.
"How did you become so educated on the solar system?" you asked.
"I read about it" was his short vague answer. You rolled your eyes again. "Make a wish on the cosmic dust grains then" you promoted, you closed your eyes and made a wish. Severus behind you did one, although he would not admit it. He wished that you and he could be in this peaceful moment forever.
"Did you know if it crashed into the earth all life would be destroyed" Severus said behind you.
"Cheerful" you muttered. Severus chuckled behind you, "You always know how to ruin the mood"
"I am sorry darling" he cooed, kissing the back of your neck. "I can tell you more about space if you wish but it will have to be on the way back to the castle" he informed you. You huffed in response.
"Must we go back?" you murmured.
"Yes, darling," Severus said. He stood up, lifting you up with his surprising strength.
"Was it your plan to invite me out to see the asteroid?" you asked, taking his warm hand again as he led you back through the forest.
Severus nodded, "I thought it would interest you" he said.
"It did" you answered, looking back up at the sky, through the trees you could still see it. Suddenly you fell over, not looking where you were going and fell onto the dirty floor of the forest. You yelled in surprise, and your hand slipped from Severus'.
"Ughh" you muttered, slowly getting up from the floor, helping with Severus' hand which he offered to you.
"You should really be more careful" Severus said, snickering slightly.
You rolled your eyes, pushing him playfully in the chest. Severus smirked, "You want to play pet?" he asked, pushing you up against a tree. You looked up at Severus' face, lit only by the moonlight, he was smirking and his lips reached down to rest on yours. One hand went against the thick trunk of the tree, the other to your cheek as you both deepened the kiss. Your hands went to his robes, feeling the smooth fabric against your fingers as you pulled them close to your chest.
Severus let go and looked at you pressed against the tree. It was getting early and there was much to do, so in one movement he removed his hands and laced his in yours again. You sighed, looking up at Severus. "Now is not the time" he said frankly. You nodded slightly, he had picked up the pace and together you walked through the forest, into the castle and down into the dungeons.
Severus opened the door and sat on the bed, uttering a slight yawn as he pulled his robes off. Together you got into bed, Severus holding you protectively against him. You kissed his nose and his eyes opened. "I really enjoyed tonight" you whispered. Severus nodded, a slight smile twitching his lips. Inside he was satisfied that you were happy, if you were, he was.
"When is the next time that the asteroid will come past?" you asked.
"24 March 2051 I believe," Severus said sleepily.
"Then maybe it can kill all humanity that time" you said quietly.
"I highly doubt it, seeing as it will be 715,000 further miles away from us" Severus said quietly.
You nodded, sleepily nuzzling into his neck. "I wonder if we will be alive to see it" you murmured.
"I will make sure of it" Severus promised.
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Article: ‘Mass Effect 3 Could Have Had A Completely Different Ending’
The Mass Effect 3 ending has been a controversial subject for nine years. As it turns out, it could have been completely different.
This article is part of TheGamer’s Mass Effect week.
This [the RGB endings] wasn’t always the case. According to Mass Effect 3 writer Chris Hepler, the end of Shepard’s story could have been radically different.
Hepler started working on Mass Effect right at the beginning. Although he wasn’t formally part of the team yet, he did additional design, chipped in for playtesting, and offered a fair amount of writing feedback during development of the first game. He had a much more active role on Mass Effect 2, writing the Codex entries, the Galaxy Map, and spearheading the Cerberus Daily News initiative. By the time Mass Effect 3 rolled around, Hepler was writing EDI, Thane, Citadel missions, and was generally considered to be the project’s “loremaster.”
“The ending relies on space magic, and the lead writer, lead gameplay designer, and executive producer all just embraced that and owned it from the get-go,” Hepler tells me. “‘Any sufficiently advanced technology’ and all that. They wanted and got a really big decision that affects the whole galaxy. If you give it a moment's thought, none of the three options are perfectly moral or the ‘right’ answer for everyone. Destroy may not solve the problem of AI and organics; Control rewards the Reapers; even Synthesis, which is harder to get than the other two and sounds like it'd be permanent peace, basically violates the entire galaxy's bodily autonomy without consent. So that part, I think, works.
“Did it satisfy the fans? Hell, no, not at first, and I found a lot of the criticism to be legitimate. The Extended Cut gave us a second chance to make an ending that acknowledged many more of the players' choices, and was about as good as we could reasonably make given the decisions we'd already made. I felt a lot better about myself and us as a team after the EC came out.”
Hepler explains that fans had observed several hints throughout the trilogy that pointed in completely different directions. For example, there are aspects of the lore that actually lean towards the Citadel species allying with the Reapers in order to collectively tackle a dark energy anomaly, as opposed to the Reapers remaining as the Big Bad right up until credits roll. Hepler confirms that there are explicit lore details that lean into this idea, but that he never personally heard about capitalizing on them. Remember, this is coming from the Mass Effect loremaster - if he says there is lore to back up a dark energy anomaly that only the Reapers can save us from, it certainly exists.
“Now, what would I have done?” Hepler asks. “I wouldn't have done space magic at all. I planned to write three Codex entries on the Crucible rather than one, reflecting on what scientists think it is at first, what it appears to be once construction has really made progress, and a third detailing how it will kill the Reapers, readable right before you return to Earth.”
Hepler explains that he wanted to take inspiration from Nancy Kress’ novel, Probability Moon, in order to have the Crucible use a strong nuclear force as a weapon. Kress’ superweapon is designed to create a massive burst of energy that is completely harmless for objects that have a low atomic weight, like organic flesh made of carbon chains. This means that the vast majority of Citadel species would be virtually unaffected by a blast from this weapon.
Objects with a much higher atomic number, however, would be annihilated by the beam. This weapon is constructed in such a way that it emits life-killing radiation for anything made up of heavy metals. “So cybernetic creatures like the Reapers and husks would have their organic parts fried because they're right next to the heavy metals, but the organic creatures a safe distance away, like a civilian population, would be just fine,” Hepler says.
“The rebuilt Shepard, who had a fair bit of cybernetics, would die heroically, but that was always likely to be on the cards. In talking with Ann Lemay, another writer on the project, we theorized that the metal most likely to be the atomic weight cut-off-point was niobium, which today is used in piercings and surgical implants because it doesn't rust and you can embed it in flesh without ill effects. It's even blue when exposed to oxygen, like the glowing blue husks we've been fighting since [the first] Mass Effect. So it would make sense as a building block for the Reapers and their ultimate weakness.”
So, what happened? Unfortunately, Hepler never got to pitch his ending. The design leads moved lightning quick with their Destroy/Control/Synthesis trifecta, to the point that the whole premise had been approved before Hepler even got around to finishing his second Codex entry. As a result, he hadn’t got a full description of how this pertained to the entire galaxy yet - although looking at it now, it could have borrowed from the best bits of each ending. The Reapers would be neutralized, but the tech would be there. Given that Mass Effect is largely about the coexistence of humans and cybernetic creatures, it would also have had an impact on other aspects of the universe - what would happen to EDI?
“I [also] had some concern that Nancy Kress might notice and sue us if I didn't do my homework,” Hepler says. “And there was no time to do that homework, which would be me telling all the leads to hold off for a week while I exchanged a crap-ton of emails with my subject matter experts. ‘Sufficiently advanced technology indistinguishable from magic’ was far easier and had much more project momentum. “I recycled some of the strong-force-as-a-weapon tech into the Reaper infantry weapon, the Blackstar. In retrospect, I wish I'd spoken up more, or thought it all out faster, but them's the breaks.”
As well as Hepler’s own ending - which obviously never made it into the final game, despite sounding as if it had a lot more hard science behind it - Hepler is a big fan of the popular Indoctrination Theory. However, he was pretty open about the fact that this wasn’t something BioWare consciously designed.
“The Indoctrination Theory is a really interesting theory, but it's entirely created by the fans,” Hepler says. “While we made some of the ending a little trippy because Shepard is a breath away from dying and it's entirely possible there's some subconscious power to the kid's words, we never had the sort of meetings you'd need to have to properly seed it through the game.
“We weren't that smart. By all means, make mods and write fanfic about it, and enjoy whatever floats your boat, because it's a cool way to interpret the game. But it wasn't our intention. We didn't write that.”
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Anidala Week 2021
Day 1: Missing Scene or Favorite Scene(s)
Anakin Skywalker could not take his eyes off the girl. He noticed her the moment he entered Watto’s shop, even before Watto said anything, and he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her since. He barely heard what Watto said to him about watching the shop. He barely noticed the strange-looking creature that had come in with her and was poking around in the shelves and bins. Even after she noticed he was staring at her, he could not help himself.
He moved now to an open space on the counter, hoisted himself up, and sat watching her while pretending to clean a transmitter cell. She was looking back at him now, embarrassment turning to curiosity. She was small and slender with long, braided brown hair, brown eyes, and a face he found so beautiful that he had nothing to which he could compare it. She was dressed in rough peasant’s clothing, but she seemed very self-possessed. She gave him an amused smile, and he felt himself melting in confusion and wonder. He took a deep breath.
“Are you an angel?” he asked quietly. The girl stared. “What?”
“An angel.” Anakin straightened a bit. “They live on the moons of Iego, I think. They are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They are good and kind, and so pretty they make even the most hardened space pirates cry like small children.”
She gave him a confused look. “I’ve never heard of angels,” she said.
“You must be one of them,” Anakin insisted. “Maybe you just don’t know it.”
“You’re a funny little boy.” The amused smile returned.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, looking upset and embarrassed. “I don’t fully understand, I guess. This is a strange world to me.” He studied her intently for a moment, thinking of other things, wanting to tell her of them. “You are a strange girl to me,” he said instead. He swung his legs out from the counter. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.” She brushed at her hair. “Padmé Naberrie.”
Both Anakin and Padmé were laughing now, and their laughter increased as they saw the look on the unfortunate creature’s long billed face. Anakin looked at Padmé and the girl at him. Their laughter died away. The girl reached up to touch her hair self-consciously, but she did not divert her gaze. “I’m going to marry you,” the boy said suddenly. There was a moment of silence, and she began laughing again, a sweet musical sound he didn’t mind at all. “I mean it,” he insisted. “You are an odd one,” she said, her laughter dying away. “Why do you say that?” He hesitated. ” I guess because it’s what I believe…” Her smile was dazzling. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t marry you..” She paused, searching her memory for his name. “Anakin,” he said. “Anakin.” She cocked her head. “You’re just a little boy.” His gaze was intense as he faced her. “I won’t always be…” he said quietly.”
— Terry Brooks, Star Wars : Episode I - The Phantom Menace
This is one of my favorite Anidala scenes ever because their story starts so sweetly. This scene is so unique to them and after watching the OT, it’s fascinating to see a young Darth Vader as a sweet and innocent child. His interactions as a slave boy with a young queen in disguise is also fits with the fairytale-ish tone and themes in Star Wars. Anakin and Padmé’s first meeting is just precious.
This is probably the only time, Anakin and Padmé can be themselves without older figures telling them what to do. This is one of the few times Padmé is Padmé Naberrie - not Queen Amidala or Padmé Amidala. It’s interesting to see two young people from different social classes and vastly different cultures and worlds sharing a genuine moment of connection.
I can add very little to this scene but Anakin proves he has enough clairvoyance (as Admiral Motti mocks him in ANH) to be certain he has met the girl he would marry someday. Even in TPM, little Anakin Skywalker is just as much a slave to Watto as he is to the Emperor in ANH.
Even Padmé is somewhat surprised by his intensity at such an young age. Anakin also emphasizes on his identity as a person so this scene has dark undertones and references to Darth Vader.
Another scene I love is the chilling visual parallels with Vader and Padmé in ROTS. The stark contrast between their “deaths” but also the similarities show that they are still connected even while their lives hang in balance.
Padmé gives birth to life and Anakin loses his humanity. She is in a well-lit medical facility and he is in a cold, dark one. Even their heartbeats are in sync as if they are connected via the Force (which could very well be true, since she was slightly force-sensitive from carrying the twins).
As the mask lowers on Vader, he whispers (since his vocal cords are badly burnt), “Padmé, help me” and Padmé, always on Anakin’s side, hears his plea and tries to tell that to Obi-Wan with her dying breath. It’s very likely that she heard him through the connection they shared like their connection during the ruminations scene and how Leia felt Luke in ESB and but she was unable to respond as she had given birth and probably lost the temporary force sensitivity.
As Anakin takes his first breath as Vader, Padmé takes her last.
Vader rises like Frankenstein’s monster and Sidious marvels at his new “creation”. Padmé dies all in white, like the angel Anakin believed her to be. The parallels are also reminiscent of the “Death and the Maiden” motif.
Anakin has always felt connected to Padmé since he met her and this is the last time he feels their connection. And that’s how he knows Padmé is truly dead and he has lost her forever.
Even the chorus “I am a Sith Lord but I could not save her” (even though the lyrics are actually Sanskrit) is haunting. This is where the colors of the republic fade and the black and white symbolism of the empire begins.
Anakin is now Vader - more machine than man - and stands beside Sidious to assist him in building a tyrannical empire while Padmé dies and takes with her all the colors, love, laughter, cultural beauty, and freedom of the Republic era. Padmé was the personification of the Republic - a flawed but well-intended system and her death represents the democracy whereas Vader represents the Empire.
Her funeral arrangement makes it seem like she’s drowning like Ophelia - implying that she’s returning to where she belongs. (Her planet Naboo is mostly associated with water and Padmé has often expressed her love for water and lakes in AOTC).
Padmé dying of a broken heart is also fits in with the fairytale whereas Anakin finds himself in a very different world after he wakes up - a world where most of the Jedi had been slaughtered and the survivors were declared traitors, a world where democracy doesn’t exist anymore. And he finds himself kept alive my machinery and he cannot die like his beloved, even if he wishes to. He is now very much a part of the new empire - with his humanity and limbs lost - and he gradually accepts his role as the imperial enforcer.
Anakin and Padme’s story comes to a conclusion here as their reverse arcs are completed. They have both come a long way since TPM and Padme’s experiences mold her into becoming more emotional and in touch with her feelings from the stoic, reserved Queen Amidala whereas Anakin’s dreams, compassion and search for his identity are lost as he becomes his master’s servant and becomes colder and more stoic. Padmé’s journey was to become more human and learning to put love and family over duty and transition from Amidala to Padmé as Anakin’s unfortunately was to become more inhuman and machine-like, from Anakin to Vader.
These scenes are where the prequel trilogy ends and the originals begin.
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home for the summer // f.w.
summary: song fic based off of home for the summer by sara kays (no war!au)
word count: 5.2k
warnings: mentions of alcohol (just wine), also just heartbreaking angst.... im sorry
We started getting close
Freshman year, when all our friends were smoking cigarettes
And we couldn't stand that secondhand smoke
So we'd leave and drive around until you had to drop me off at home
“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Fred whispered to the girl beside him.
Y/N looked to him as if he had read her mind. She perked up, nodding desperately at Fred who slyly slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away from the group drinking fire whiskey in the common room.
It was a breath of fresh air stepping out of the portrait hole, the dim lighting of the candles illuminating Hogwarts in the most comfortable way. Fred tugged her hand, shifting her attention from the new atmosphere to his tall figure practically bouncing down the staircase.
“Was getting quite stuffy in there, don’t you agree?”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as he scrunched his nose. A hint of excitement Fred was trying to contain leaked through the tug at the corner of his lips. Whether he tried to hide it or not though, Y/N saw it anyway, she knew him quite well.
“Completely.” Y/N breathed, grinning as she agreed.
Fred was quite outgoing, he never missed the chance to be the center of attention, finding any opportunity he could to show off his charming flirting skills or his new products for the shop he planned to own with George. So, it was quite a surprise when he whisked Y/N from the loud group, but she chose not to question it, considering it meant alone time with him.
She followed his lead quietly, figuring whatever secret spot Fred had in mind had to be better than anything she could come up with. He’d snuck around the castle more times than he could count, and as much as he found himself in detention, she trusted him enough to get them to a quiet spot without getting caught.
Finally, at last, Y/N followed Fred’s lead up the steps of the astronomy tower. He smiled proudly to himself when he turned to see her smiling in awe. Of course, they had classes up there weekly, but she had yet to experience the tower in all of it’s glory – and at night and with Fred Weasley.
She walked towards the edge, gripping the railing and admiring the view of the bright moon before her, peering out as far as she could at such a height. Fred’s chest warmed at her smile, priding himself on being the cause of it.
She took her time taking in every detail, perking up when she recognized one of the constellations she had learned about in class. While she awed over the stars, he awed over her. It was ridiculously adorable how much she loved it. He’d snuck up to the astronomy tower multiple times and he mentally kicked himself for not taking her up there sooner.
As she deemed her viewing acceptable for the time being, Y/N remembered her reality and felt her ears warm up. The entire time she was standing there, Fred was behind her. She suddenly felt out of place, as well as a bit guilty for not speaking to him for the past few minutes. However, as she turned around she was immediately met with the cutest smile on his face and she couldn’t even remember what it was she was worried about.
He stood before her with his hands tucked into his pockets, shifting his gaze to his shoes when she turned to face him.
“Fred?” Y/N questioned.
She leant back against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head slightly.
Fred’s gaze skipped from his shoes to hers, slowly raking up her body until they landed back on her own eyes. She was backlit by the moon, but he was still able to recognize all of her features, whether it was due to just enough lighting or because he had stared at her enough in his lifetime to know them by memory, he didn’t know.
“Y/N?” Fred grinned, copying her tone.
“Why’d you want to leave the party?”
He felt a little taken back, not in a bad away, he just didn’t expect her to question him for wanting some alone time with her. She was his best friend after all, ridiculously funny and exciting to be around while simultaneously being a safe space for him to return to for some peace and quiet.
Y/N continued before he could answer.
“I mean you love parties, and they had fire whiskey, which I know you love.”
The fact rolled off her tongue without a second thought, but it didn’t stop Fred’s heart from skipping a beat at the mention of it. It didn’t take a genius to know Fred Weasley was a show off who loved to party, but the fact that she knew made it somehow more special.
“Yeah, but, I like spending time with you as well.”
Fred scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the heat creep up his cheeks as the sentence rolled off his tongue. When his gaze found hers again, he chuckled at the knowing grin she gave him.
“Aw, Freddie!” She teased, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.
Fred’s mind was clouded with witty comments he could make towards her, comments to make the beautiful glow of a blush rush to her cheeks or to bring out her harmonious giggle he heard when he teased her. But he found them getting caught in his throat as he felt her hands lightly tugging at the hairs on the back of his neck.
She didn’t pull back completely after she kissed his cheek, just far enough to look at his face and still be in his arms. Fred had snuck his arms around her waist, resting their gently and absentmindedly fiddling with the soft cotton material of the hem of her shirt. She looked so gorgeous. The sight of her eyes reflecting the great big moon was enough to have him weak at the knees and a puddle in her hands; which he was.
“What’re you looking at?” Y/N tried to joke, but it came out much softer as she realized she was more focused on how he was looking at her than the reason why.
Fred Weasley was one attractive bloke, this she knew. He was quite fit, tall figure and strong beater arms. But it was the softness in his features when he looked at her that had her swooning.
“You just,” Fred bit his lip, “You look very pretty.”
Y/N exhaled a sweet giggle, desperately trying to hide her burning cheeks. She reached up and tightened her hold around him, pulling Fred into a hug against her. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck and held her back tightly, pushing their chests together. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm the herd of butterflies swarming in her stomach.
“Thanks, Freddie.” She mumbled, she knew he heard it.
When Fred pulled back, he kept his hold tight against her and looked down into her eyes. One hand came up to swipe a stray piece of hair behind her ear and fell to rest holding her chin in between his thumb and pointer fingers.
She knew what was coming, she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing down to his lips. Fred’s heart fluttered as he watched her, giving him the cue that she was just as into it as he was. So he didn’t keep her waiting.
Fred pressed his lips to hers, slowly at first, to test the waters. Just the initial feeling of her soft lips against his was like heaven on earth. It wasn’t until she moved against him that he realized it only got better. She tugged on his bottom lip, raking it through her teeth and sliding her fingertips through his fiery hair.
He gripped the material of her shirt in his hands at the feeling, humming pleasurably into her mouth. He was starving and she was a feast made for ten. He inhaled her scent and reveled in the way her tongue grazed his so elegantly, like everything else she did.
He could tell she was close to running out of breath, considering how quickly the pace of their kiss had picked up, once they realized everything they wanted was in each other’s hands. But she didn’t pull back, she pushed herself further into him and he melted, tugging her closer. She was pink silk and white daisies, cozy blankets and diamond rings, a plethora of the most heavenly sensations all mixed into one.
In that moment, Fred Weasley knew he was in love with her.
Swear that was yesterday
But in two weeks I'll be moving south
And you'd be moving to a town that I had never heard of
I wish we had more time, why did I ever wanna grow up?
“Freddie!” Her voice carried swiftly through the burrow, alerting Fred in the other room.
“What is it?” He quickly stumbled into the living room.
She stood before him with a letter in her hand and a smile on her face.
“I got in!” She cheered, “They accepted me!”
Fred was in shock. His body failed him, freezing in his place, standing before her in complete silence and not holding his arms out to her, kissing her forehead and congratulating her on her accomplishment. His brain was screaming at him to move, and he was so very grateful that she took the first step, too engaged in her initial shock to see his unwelcoming position.
She jumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and pulling him to her. Fred snapped into it at her touch, immediately enclosing her waist in his arms. He felt like he had to remind himself to breathe, to make sure he didn’t drop her from his hold.
After graduating Hogwarts, Y/N applied for a position at a Magical Creatures center in Romania. Charlie had told her about the position on his last visit home. Y/N was very passionate, and everyone around her knew she would never be satisfied with a job at the ministry or as a professor in Hogwarts. It was no surprise when she jumped at the opportunity and sent in her application.
The night Charlie had informed her of the position, Fred was the one she turned to with a wide smile, cheeks hurting from the overwhelming joy she felt. It made his heart flutter that he was the one she turned to celebrate her opportunity with. Of course, he never actually planned out far enough what it would feel like when she actually left.
Leaving. She was leaving.
Fred rubbed her back comfortingly with his large hand, holding her in place against his chest with his other hand. He set her down, noticing the tears of joy that pooled in her eyes as he pulled back to look at her.
“That’s wonderful, love,” He feigned the best smile he could, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Freddie.” She beamed, rising on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.
Was now too soon to ask? Fred didn’t have time to wonder before she let it out.
“They said they’ll have me as soon as possible,” She cleared her throat, “I reckon that means I’ll be going after the holidays.”
Two weeks. Fred had two weeks left with the love of his life, who wasn’t even his girlfriend.
He hated himself for that last part, constantly overthinking every moment he had with her at Hogwarts. He should have told her loved her when he took her to the astronomy tower, but his chance was lost. It would be unfair of him to blurt out such a confession weeks before she was about to leave to her dream job.
You said you’ll see me
When we’re home for the summer
We won't have to work so we're gonna
Do whatever the hell we wanna
'Cause we know that one day we'll be
Gone from each other
The ring of the bell above the door to the joke shop caught Fred’s attention. It was after hours, although often they had a few kids trying to come in just moments after they closed, begging to have a look around. He prepared himself for that, some eleven or twelve year old that ignored the closed sign.
He stopped in his tracks. Of all the sights Fred expected to see rounding the corner in the shop, this was by far the best one he could have ever imagined.
Y/N stood before him, a cheeky smile on her face as she had successfully caught her favorite prankster off guard. Her hair was more grown out than the last time he saw her a few months ago, a pink, summer dress hugged her body. She looked ethereal. The warm summer weather had given her a bit of a glow and she’d done her makeup to highlight her cheekbones and the gloss on her lips.
“Miss me?” She quipped.
She squealed as Fred rushed towards her, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her around a few times in the empty shop. Her giggle was music to his ears, he missed that sound so much. He missed the feeling of her in his arms and the twinkle in her eye when she smiled at him.
He missed his girl.
“Of course I missed you, darling,” He beamed, “When did you get back?”
He set her back down on her feet, keeping his hands on her waist. He felt dizzy, he didn’t know if it was from spinning her around or just being in her presence again after so long. Seeing her up close allowed him to admire all the little things he fell in love with, like the curve of her nose and when she looked up at him through her lashes, when her hair fell naturally and he was able to tuck it behind her ear to see her face better.
“Just a bit ago, you’re my first stop.” She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand.
It was surreal to her, being back. It was only a six months but it was the longest she had ever been away from Fred. A flood of emotions burst through the floodgates as she was in his arms again, the sadness of missing him and the longing for his presence that she had tucked away so safely while in Romania. Her job didn’t allow her the time to sit and miss her best friend.
“You came to see me before your own mother?” Fred laughed.
Y/N scoffed, playfully, “She doesn’t know I got back early, I’ll see her tomorrow. I just couldn’t go home without seeing you first, Freddie.”
Fred tugged her close again, pressing a long kiss to her forehead as she curled into his embrace. She was home again, his girl was home.
We'd wait till after dark
2 AM, we're laying on the ground in my backyard
I told you I'd be waiting there the night that I get back
I hope you don't forget about that
Fred tugged Y/N’s hand in his, leading her through a field of wheat grass and wild flowers. A misfit blindfold was secured over her eyes, leaving Fred to be her vision. He kept glancing from their destination to the ground in front of her feet, trying to assure she wouldn’t trip and fall on a weed or a hole in the ground.
“Are we almost there?” She giggled. It came out as a whisper, as if they had someone to hide from in the vast, empty field.
“Be patient.” Fred chuckled, squeezing her hand.
Y/N sighed, “Fine.”
He led them further through the grass until they approached their destination. Fred was buzzing with anticipation, excited to see the look on Y/N’s face when he took the blindfold off. He had set up a blanket for the two of them to sit down on, along with a bottle of wine.
Finally he stepped towards her, resting his hand on her waist to let her know he was there. He reached up and gently pulled the blindfold from her face. She gasped once her eyes adjusted, smiling down in awe at the little set up. She felt her heart beat faster and turned to look at him, mimicking the same awed expression she had towards the spot made for them.
“You remembered.” She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes flitting between his brown ones and the blanket below them.
“Figured we could talk, catch up,” He shoved his hands into his pockets, “Sending owls just isn’t quite like the real thing.”
They sat down beside each other, fingertips dancing closely together as they rested back on their arms. Fred poured them a few glasses of wine to talk over. Fred told her about the success of the shop, how happy it made him to work with George and seeing the faces of little troublemakers coming in daily that reminded him of his youth. He told her about Hermione and Ron, finally getting together, and how Ginny was a professional quidditch player, things Y/N knew from the letters she sent back and forth from his siblings, but it was like hearing it for the first time when she got to hear it from Fred’s lips.
Fred marveled in the way she looked at him when he talked, like there was nothing more important than what he was saying to her in that moment, didn’t matter what it was he was saying, all that mattered was that he was saying it to her. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love to hear her talk even more. She told him about her time in Romania, staring at her in awe when she told him about the baby hippogriff she’d been caring for. It was clear to him that she was happy, that this was what she was meant to be doing.
So, Fred didn’t pull out the letter in his pocket. The letter confessing his love for her, the letter he daydreamed about her reading and running into his arms and kissing him senseless. He kept it sealed away, for another time he reasoned. He would wait till he knew she was ready, when she wasn’t so overwhelmed with the joy of her life countries away from him.
You said you’ll see me
When we’re home for the summer
We won't have to work so we're gonna
Do whatever the hell we wanna
'Cause we know that one day we'll be
Gone from each other
We'll have lives in two different suburbs
We'll have families with different lovers
But for now, I know I'll see you when we're
Home for the summer
His hands were sweaty, his breath caught in his throat. She was coming home, coming home to him.
Fred stood in the kitchen with Molly, setting the table and peering out the window every few minutes to check when Charlie and Y/N would be arriving. It was Christmas Eve, almost a year since Y/N had left to work in Romania. The last time he’d seen her was the night she surprised him at the shop, she had promised she’d visit once before the holidays, but he soon found out through her letters that work was getting too hectic for her to find an empty weekend to come home. It bummed Fred out, but it just made him more excited to see his girl on Christmas.
He patted his coat, mindlessly feeling for the letter sitting in his pocket. He hadn’t carried it around since she was last here and it only heightened his nerves that he was actually going through with it tonight. The paper of the envelope had faded to a dusty brown and the seal was losing its grip, but Fred still had full intentions of gifting it to her that evening and waiting for her out in the snowfall.
He peered out the window one last time, assuring he wouldn’t miss their arrival before trotting up the staircase to the bathroom. He ran his hand along his clean shaven jaw, and through his grown out hair. Not quite as long as the phase it went through his sixth year of Hogwarts, but just long enough that it fell softly to the sides, she had always liked it long, it was easier to run her fingers through.
Suddenly, Fred was taken from his memories to present day by the shout of his sister downstairs.
“Freddie!” Ginny called, “Y/N and Charlie are here.”
Fred ignored the blush creeping up his ears and rushed down the stairs, spotting the lot of the Weasley’s standing before the front door to welcome home their family. Charlie walked through the door first, whisking Ginny up in a hug and kissing her cheek before welcoming his mum in a bear hug. He said hello to his brothers, as he kicked off his boots and ventured off into the living room with Bill to show off the tiny dragon that sat on his shoulder.
Fred froze in his spot. He didn’t recognize the voice that came before the sweet giggle of the love of his life.
In walked a tall man, dark hair and sharp features. Shiny, curly hair complimented his stippled facial hair. His skin was tanned from the Romanian weather, and it was easy to spot his strength as he carried in two bags. Y/N followed shortly after, sneaking in behind the tall man’s figure.
“Y/N!” Ginny cheered, racing past her family to engulf the girl in a hug.
“I missed you, Gin.” Y/N giggled, tumbling back a few steps at the impact of Ginny’s hug.
Y/N pulled back and spotted the confusion on the Weasley’s faces at their unknown guest. She cleared her throat and stepped forward.
“Everyone, meet Joshua.” She smiled shyly.
Fred felt like he was in an out of body experience, like he wasn’t really there. Like he was a ghost of himself watching a strange man intertwine his fingers with Y/N’s. He could see them and hear them, but he felt shackles tied to his feet, keeping him in place like he was stuck living a never ending nightmare.
He almost missed the bright eyed girl coming towards him with her arms open after greeting the rest of his family. Feeling her touch felt like crash-landing a back into his home. The muffled, white noise that filled his ears was now clear conversation between his brothers, and Ginny and Molly.
“I missed you so much, Freddie.”
He sank into her hold, fighting tears back. Her embrace filled him with warmth. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, lingering with the perfume that he inhaled when his head sank to the crook of her neck. He didn’t want to let go, but reluctantly pulled back as she did, letting his hands linger on the small of her back. He couldn’t get any words out, so he just smiled at her.
The family all took their seats at the set table. Y/N sat in between Fred and Joshua, and across from Ginny. She was conversing between the two, entertaining all the questions Ginny had about how they met and what work was like.
Joshua worked with Y/N at the Magical Creatures care center. He was the one who trained her. He told stories of how they bonded over caring for a phoenix that soon had the entire table listening. Joshua spoke so fondly of Y/N, highlighting the way so many of the injured creatures felt so comfortable around her which made it easy to care for them.
Fred tuned in and out of the conversation. His heart fluttered at the way he imagined her caring ever so gently for injured creatures, knowing that her eyes probably lit up as they released them again after rehabilitation. He wasn’t even there, yet he knew exactly how it would have played out. He knew her so well and found himself fighting the urge to rest his arm over the back of her chair as Joshua’s arm was already there.
It was an agonizing Christmas Eve dinner. Fred kept to himself, only half smiling over at Y/N when she nudged her elbow against his arm. Ron and Bill were indulged in a conversation with Charlie, enjoying having their brother back for holidays. Ginny, Molly and Arthur begged Joshua for more stories. George however, was too busy watching his lovesick twin brother look… actually sick. He’d flash him worried looks, only to be ignored by Fred.
“I think it’s time we retire to the living room, shall we?” Arthur announced, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stuffed stomach.
Fred was the first out of his chair, the sound of it scraping against the wood startled everyone surrounding him, but he was off before anyone could ask any questions, George and Ron followed shortly after. Bill patted Joshua’s shoulder and invited him to share a drink with him, Percy and Charlie, while Y/N and Ginny stayed behind in the kitchen.
“Oh, Y/N he’s absolutely charming.” Ginny awed, lightly shaking Y/N’s shoulder.
Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes, joining Molly at the counter to help brew some tea. Molly snickered to herself and turned to hand Y/N a warm mug. A thick, pottery mug with her first initial on it, a couple of doodles on the side.
“I must say, dear, he does compliment you very well.”
Y/N replied to Molly with a much sweeter response than Ginny, smiling thankfully at her.
“So,” Ginny lowered her voice, “Give us the details then, how long have you been together?”
Y/N sighed, grabbing the string of the tea bag and bobbing it in her tea.
“About six months. He asked me out shortly after I last visited here,” She finished, but glanced at Ginny’s curious eyes before continuing, “He’s very sweet, not only with me but with the creatures as well. It’s clear he’s got a heart of gold but –“
“But?” Molly placed a motherly hand on Y/N’s shoulder.
“But,” Y/N sighed, “Part of me is still hesitant, you know? I just… I don’t know that he’s the one.”
“Y/N, darling, can I see you for a moment?” Joshua’s voice rang from the living room.
Y/N gave Molly and Ginny a tight-lipped smile before setting down her mug and sneaking past the table and into the living room. The boys were scattered across the room, occupying the couches and chairs.
“May I have a moment alone?” Joshua whispered to Y/N as she joined his side.
Her eyes were on Fred, well, the back of his head. He sat on the couch, resting his head in his hands. He didn’t turn around as she entered the room, he just sat in silence beside George.
Y/N sighed and smiled politely at Joshua, nodding to him as he slipped his hand in hers and pulled her out towards the back door. As they passed through the room, Y/N caught Charlie’s gaze, he sent her a wink and a cheeky smile. Her brows furrowed in confusion but she brushed off his behavior and shook her head.
Joshua led her out into the snowfall. Rather big snowflakes fell softly, resting atop Joshua’s dark locks of hair and catching in his eyelashes. He looked down at Y/N with a wide smile, expecting to see an expression that mimicked his own, but instead was met with an unsatisfied frown.
“Darling,” Joshua pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, “Smile for me.”
She obliged, putting on a sweet smile. She shut her eyes for a moment, feeling the cool air brisk at her soft cheeks, turning the tip of her nose pink. Her smile altered to a real one for a moment, a passing feeling of contentment in the backyard of the burrow. But it fell shortly after when she opened her eyes and realized the hand she was holding wasn’t Fred’s.
“Y/N, you are so special to me.” Joshua started, moving his other hand down to now hold both her hands in his, “I fell for you instantly when we met. It was so easy to fall in love with you, how sweet you are with the creatures, and how beautiful you are when they trust you. I just – I can’t imagine a life without you.”
Joshua released her hand to reach into his pocket. He took a step back and lowered himself to one knee. He pulled out a velvet box and opened it, the diamond ring immediately catching the light from the Christmas decorations and reflecting into the night.
“I know it’s only been six months but, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”
She felt a pit in her stomach, overwhelming emotions flooded through her body seizing her movement. Her hand covered her mouth, enabling him from reading her expression. One hand still in his, she squeezed his hand and uttered out an answer.
Inside, the family of gingers crowded around the window, looking out into the backyard where the couple stood. Ginny clasped her hands together, watching with anticipation for him to slip the ring on her finger. Molly stood with Arthur and chewed her bottom lip, nervously. Bill, Percy and Charlie held small grins, watching the girl they had grown to take in as younger sister get proposed to. Ron and George held quite opposite expressions to their older brothers.
And Fred, he felt his stomach drop.
He quickly cleared his throat and excused himself, rushing up the staircase to the bathroom. He threw the door shut behind him after he entered. Hot tears began to stream down his face and he tried his best to keep the heartbreaking sobs from escaping. His hands tore at his hair, gripping tightly as he rests his head against the cool tile wall.
He ignored the quick pace of his breathing, and the sharp weight in his throat that kept him from breathing deeply and clearly. He choked on his sobs, biting his lip to keep quiet. He fumbled with his jacket and tore the letter out from his pocket. He held it in his shaking hands and squeezed tightly as another wave of hurt washed over him. The letter creased in his fist and he released it, watching it fall to the countertop.
He heard memories of her laughter in his mind, almost taunting him. He saw the wrinkle in between her brows as she read an interesting book and the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth. He felt the silkiness of her soft lips on his, and the way her fingers threaded through his hair.
And at last, with no hope in sight, Fred picked up the letter and tore it in two.
taglist: (ignore if you’ve already read this)
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Sly like a... ? Part 4
[Sly Master List]
Beta: n/a (at the moment)
Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader
Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story.
Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.
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Deciding to sleep in the lounge was not only because you had grown too tired from cleaning to retreat for a bed, but also as you had given up your room so each hybrid had their own personal space. Another and more pressing reason you had slept on the couch was to perhaps talk Yoongi down from leaving.
It was understandable he was apprehensive about the trials and after your in depth conversation he agreed to truly think the offer over before making any rash decisions. That’s all you could hope for, that he tried for the sake of himself and other hybrids in his position. The first day hadn’t gone as successful as you had hoped but you had developed a good impression with the initial three hybrids.
“The story of the fox goes back to Chinese folklore, in a book called the classics of Mountain and Sea. The book was filled with monsters and mythical creatures that roamed the earth hidden among the humans. They called the fox ‘Huli jing’ and said they had immense power,” Felix spoke quietly tucking you into bed, his silver hair shone by the faint glow of the night light in your room.
“Some say that every ten years a fox grows a new tail, and others say when a Fox falls in love it will only have one.” He explained seeing you sitting up he pressed his finger to your forehead trying to push you to lay down, “Are you laying down, this is supposed to be a bedtime story.”
“I know but your stories are so good I don’t want to fall asleep again,” You whined but reluctantly gave way, “I am laying down, tell the story, tell the story.”
“In the mountain lived a young man, who spent his days gathering wood, food and water, one evening he wished under the moon for a wife that could love him and give him a family. The next morning he was visited by a beautiful woman, she was everything he wished for and the two fell in love. She told him she would marry him and give him a family if once a month under the full moon she could disappear down to the river and he would never follow. So he obeyed never following and the two had two children, she took the children to the river every full moon and the man started to grow curious.”
“He followed her to the river and saw her remove and wash her skin. She was not a human but a fox and their children splashing in the water were foxes too but they didn’t need to remove their skin. They were part human and were good at disguising themselves. The fox saw her husband standing there and she fled with their children never to be seen again.” Felix saw your eyes drifting and gave a low chuckle, “That will be it for tonight you have lessons in the morning.”
Growing up in a government facility had everything a real home would, except love, you didn’t have a mother or father to care for you. But you did have a young researcher named Felix who would often visit and dote on you, giving gifts and teaching you about Hybrids. He helped you to understand that you were in fact a Hybrid even if you didn’t appear like one. Felix often told you stories, myths and legends about foxes. He made sure to never treat you like a failure, unlike the other researchers.
“Am I ever going to be allowed to leave, no one will want a hybrid who doesn’t look like a hybrid, but no one wants to deal with a human who has animal tendencies?”
“The right people will accept you when the time comes” He smiled, a knowing glint in his eye, he always looked like he was hiding something. You had a way of getting information out of everyone who worked in the facility but not Felix, he was the exception always calling you out when you tried. “They are out there, now it’s time to sleep.”
He left and after a few moments the lights in the hall switched off. The door creaked open and you shuffled over in your bed and lifted the blanket. Jimin slid under the covers and the two of you fell asleep cuddling. Everynight Jimin snuck from his room to yours if he wasn’t caught and the two of you fell asleep beside one another. His tail nervously in his hands where he would twist it gently.
“Jimin is out of bed again!”
A head of red locks poked into the room, Felix’s eyes met yours and with a playful wink he turned to leave and you swear you saw three silver bottle brush tails trailing behind him, “They are asleep Astrid, leave them be,”
Woken by something soft brushing against your hand, you opened your eyes taking in your surroundings. That’s right you were staying in a government house, you hadn’t lived in one of these buildings since you were a teen. The buildings all smelt the same, like the same disinfectant and carpet shampoo, you were used to this even if the disinfectant made it hard to relax. It was hard to adjust to a place that smelt like nothing, everything smelt like something.
Turning towards your hand you found Jungkook rubbing the sides of his face against your hand and letting your fingers brush over his head. It was a natural reaction cat hybrids have sweat glands in their cheeks that are filled with their scent and well when they nuzzle or rub their faces against something it transfers that scent.
You scratched behind his ears, he stopped closing his eyes and purring happily in response and you hoped your scent would soon occupy some of the house to ease you discomfort
“Good morning Jungkook!” You greeted him, scratching more diligently behind his ears. He leaned into your touch, you assumed from his purrs that he felt safe and happy to live with you. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Uh, no” he whined a pout prominent on his lips, either he was really hungry or he was upset that you had stopped petting him. You were heading into the kitchen and starting to prepare a large breakfast. Before you had the chance to set the table there was a knock at the door. Jungkook ever so curious slinked across the room to peek out the window.
“Your friend Jimin is back and he brought two new hybrids,” Jungkook's voice died off towards the end and Seokjin stepped out his tail all messy from his sleep. Seokjin petted Jungkook’s head tired and the younger hybrid followed you to the front door.
Pulling the door open you saw Jimin dressed beautifully in a suit and with some rather beautiful make up, he was fresh from his photo shoot. “I look good huh?” He leaned in kissing your cheek and walking inside, muttering something about the smell of the government houses.
Behind him was Kim Namjoon looking bored. He carried a small potted plant in his hands and practically stumbled up the steps but tried to play it off with a look of contempt lacing his features. He was the tallest out of all the hybrids you had met and you could see Jungkook’s wide eyes already admiring the older Hybrid.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles and stepped inside. Asking Jungkook to lead him to the room beside Jimin’s he nodded and led the taller feline hybrid to his room. Namjoon seemed a little taken back by Jungkook’s admiring stare.
Jung Hoseok was just full of smiles so excited to see everything the city had to offer, his eyes shone, he would be a ball of energy. His reaction to the house was just a series of loud sound effects, clapping, and giggles. You grinned greeting him with a smile. He was quick to give you a hug talking about how his previous owners had given him some food as a gift. The farm where Hoseok was born were breeders of deer and similar hybrids.
Hoseok had a kind of silly face like Jin's. He was very expressive and when he smiled you just knew he was happy. You could tell he was from the country as he was very lean and yet still muscular. He wasn’t on to shy away from hard work.
With the two new hybrids in the house you felt the tension build, especially between Seokjin the oldest, Yoongi who wasn’t one to follow someone's orders and Namjoon who thought of himself superior to the other hybrids. This was going to end badly if you didn’t step in so you did.
“I would like for you to have no fighting and as of right now I am the leader and the boss, when the time comes that you have grown accustomed to one another then we will vote who will be the leading figure. But for arguments sake I will take the leadership role do we all agree?”
“Yes, of course” Seokjin smiled, he respected your decision and also would rather not start a fight with two predatory hybrids.
“A smart decision.” Namjoon nodded watching Jimin searching for something in his bag, a familiar scent catching your attention. Yoongi smirked seemingly amused by the two hybrids who were quick to bow their heads.
“For now,” Yoongi muttered, slinking off to his room, his dark tail the last thing you saw as he turned down the hall.
“Oh, Y/nnnnn?” Jimin cooed from across the room he had a dark bag filled which from what you could smell was full of fruit, “I got you a present?”
“Blueberries?” You went to run over to inspect the bag but he held up his hand, freezing you to the spot.
“And?” he smirked, rustling the bag letting more of the fresh fruit aroma fill the air, “What else can you smell?”
“Mulberries?” You sniffed the air stepping forward slowly, “and what is the last one?”
“Grapes and Plums” Seokjin sniffed the air coming closer, you had a bit of a laugh, at least there was someone in the house with similar taste as you. The two of you tipped the bag into a bowl and ate together, the others all enjoyed the breakfast you had made especially the grilled mackerel but you couldn’t help but notice Jimin pouting. Perhaps he didn’t like that Seokjin was enjoying the gift he had gotten for you.
“Thank you so much Jimin, these berries are my favourite and I am so proud of you for letting me share with Seokjin, as he loves them too. You are making such a good first impression, you are such a good boy” Jimin’s face flushed in response apparently he didn’t expect to be praised but you knew how much he loved words of affirmation.
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Garden of Ishtar
Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9
(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)
"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"
Rating: holy shit Explicit
Word count: 15.8k
Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.
A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.
“Well, which one do you want?”
“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”
It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.
On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.
Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.
“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.
“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”
“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.
“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.
“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”
“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”
He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”
“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.
You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.
“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.
“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.
A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.
You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”
“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.
You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.
Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.
“Had enough yet?”
You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.
“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.
“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”
“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”
“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”
Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”
His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”
“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”
Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.
“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”
“Me? You started this.”
“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”
“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”
“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”
The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.
The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”
You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:
“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”
“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.
“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”
Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.
“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.
“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.
“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”
His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”
The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.
Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.
You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.
It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.
Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.
The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.
And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.
When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.
“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”
“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.
“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.
Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…
“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”
A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.
Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.
“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”
*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*
Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.
“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.
The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.
*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*
The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.
For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.
Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.
“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.
“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.
You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.
“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”
“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.
Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.
It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.
Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.
“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.
“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.
“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”
When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.
When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.
When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.
The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.
Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.
Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.
In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.
Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.
He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…
“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”
The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.
You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.
Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.
Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.
This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!
The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.
The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.
What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…
“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!
The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.
Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.
The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.
The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.
Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.
You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.
The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…
From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…
The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…
From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?
Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.
The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.
Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.
That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.
Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.
What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.
“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.
Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.
You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!
The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.
Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...
You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.
Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.
Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.
The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.
You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.
As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.
The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.
Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.
The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.
From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.
The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.
So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.
Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.
The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.
“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.
“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.
“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”
“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”
“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”
“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.
A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”
Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”
“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.
“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”
“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”
“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.
“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”
You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”
“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”
He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.
The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.
“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…
“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”
“But the bounty-”
“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.
“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.
“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.
You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”
“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.
When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”
“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”
Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.
For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.
Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”
Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.
“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”
Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”
You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”
“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.
“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”
The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.
“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.
“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”
Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!
“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.
“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”
“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”
His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.
You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.
Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?
The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”
“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”
“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”
“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.
Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.
Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.
He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.
Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.
Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.
The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”
From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.
“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”
“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?
In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.
It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.
Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.
“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.
“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”
“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”
You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.
Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.
“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.
Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.
He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.
A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.
He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.
But what if there was?
Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.
And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...
Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.
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umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌
drabble week: day three
drabble week masterlist
pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader
glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"
feedback + support mean the world to me!!
the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine
you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers
the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!
and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet
“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers
he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day
“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”
hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made
retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay
“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”
OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO
makes you feel like ur walking on air
but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet
he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3
jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes
“you wipe the glass this time.”
oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands
you don’t mind it honestly
you might honestly like it
you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes
there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-
maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT
it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!
you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE
although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-
oh it’s just yoongi
yoongi’s already here????
yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!
no, not a regular customer — an always customer
he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period
he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it
he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him
he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago
but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?
“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”
“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”
jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown
you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(
you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left
“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”
wow they’re uh
they’re really loud
sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell
lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him
a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing
“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”
“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”
"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"
namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool
but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop
as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0
"IF YOU SAY SO?"
you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!
he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud
his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules
... you don't hate his outfits
pretty cute, actually
you'd never catch him lacking!!!
you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag
one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off
oh god that’s the sound of the intercom
and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook
... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin
he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop
“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”
you see the thing is :D
“now this is just funny
there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!
“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“
“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”
him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D
10/10 totally fair
fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat
that leaves you and yoongi. alone.
“why did you come so early this time?”
you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit
yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no
“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”
are you both talking about the same thing
yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying
“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"
"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"
you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh
“not unless you pulled it out already."
he's hoping that dear god you haven't
the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???
he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it
it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it
"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."
that’s sweet :((
“i’ll hold you to that.”
you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less
your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin
or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf
or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother
or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error
his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times
there it is!!!
the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left
the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether
yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!
he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know
he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer
yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all
he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!
he wants to spend a little more time here
you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi
he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded
he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice
yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it
he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager
he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends
yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind
"what do you got for me?"
he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already
it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread
well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued
“we have... a new collection."
you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either
“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"
uhm you haven't read the brief about this
you aren't even sURE if there is one!!
doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail
or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you
“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."
yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all
you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all
“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."
it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together
“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"
you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really
"t-the material is shirt."
they're all shirts!!! that’s it
yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it
“what?? you can't say that.”
he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger
"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"
you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes
yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out
"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"
okay where is he going with this
he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???
it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion
“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."
you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you
“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"
there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation
“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"
why is he being like this?
“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"
jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt
yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further
“bye. happy shopping."
yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((
there's not even a customer service smile :(((
yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin
seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say
but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note
yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again
you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge
you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways
needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly
you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!
you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways
you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!
you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week
“jin, i need to ask you something.”
he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it
“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"
he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed
why did you ask him? it’s too easy
“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."
that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him
it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard
oh you’re hounded alright
“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”
you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty
"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"
you're quite speechless as he holds up the item
this thing all over again???
why are you even surprised
the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him
NO GOOD MORNING????
you're mad at him, aren't you?
he knew it :((
he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what
he’s gonna fix this!! he will
which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there
you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D
you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing
you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand
the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks
he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time
the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening
“you already bought this."
you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag
“i know. i just wanted to see you."
yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter
hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them
“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."
you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face
"it's okay, yoongi.”
... it’s not?
yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former
“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."
“don't feel obligated-"
“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."
alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker
you mIGHT be even flustered a little
“you're holding the line, yoongi.”
“i cleared my schedule."
“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back
“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"
maybe that wouldn’t hurt
“okay. just because you're holding the line."
“fine by me."
yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag
he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does
he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you
it's the sweater that he has too
yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one
“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."
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The Last Chthonian
Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader
A/N: It is here! So sorry for the late update lovelies! I’ve been having really bad writers block lately and my job keeps switching my hours up so now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. And after writing this part I want to go stargazing so bad but the light pollution kind of sucks where I live. 🥲 Also this is my first time writing a steamy scene so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. Feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 😊
Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appears at your doorstep one day.
Warnings: language, angst, some foreplay and making out
You had still been wrapped in Zemo’s arms, the two of you indulging in each other’s presence in a silence, which combined with the faint beating of his heart, you only found to be comforting. The meteors still swept by the earth’s atmosphere above you in flashes that lit up the sky, leaving behind trails of white that resembled the strokes of a brush, as if your mother Asteria had painted the celestial bodies using diamonds onto a canvas that was the night sky. You could only make out the few stars and constellations that were scarcely scattered across the vastness above you, caused by the light pollution that unfortunately managed to mantle the wonders and beauty that settled just beyond, separating humanity from the marvels of the universe. The stars flickered like the diminishing of the flame of a candle, a farewell to the billions of years lived by the remnants of those enormous spheres of hot plasma, thus leaving behind the birth of other stars to fulfill their legacy. However, there was a certain star that did not flicker like the ones around it, a certain spectacle distant in time and space that still managed to burn bright despite the innumerable amount of light-years that separated Earth from it. The remaining light of your planet Olympus. You stared at that particular star, your brows knit together and your face etched with this certain melancholy that one could not explain. How could one thing be so near, within the reach of your fingertips, and yet be entirely outside the capacity of reach.
“Draga.” You heard Zemo softly speak, his chest slightly wavering beneath your cheek from his words.
“Something troubles you.”
“What makes you say that?” You stared off, your eyes still fixated to the fading existence of your world.
“Your eyes draga.” Zemo looked down at you, his eyes scanning over the troubled creases that masked your features. “I have seen this shadow in your eyes that has seemed to occupy them as of recently. What troubles you?”
“…………You see that star there, right between those two constellations?” You pointed above you.
“Mhm.” Zemo nodded as he followed the line of your finger, his eyes now focused on the same exact star yours have not yet left.
“That’s my planet………Olympus.”
“You’re welcome to tell me about it if you’d like.”
“Well, when I was little, I used to live with my mother in this quaint cottage by the sea, similar to the one I live in now with my daughter. She used to bring me out most nights for stargazing. She had built this outdoor platform with bedding and blankets and we would have a small fire going to keep us warm as we watched the stars and constellations while she told me different tales and epic poetries. As silly as it sounds, she would make shooting stars appear in the sky for me knowing how much I loved them. Gods, I wish you could’ve seen my home back in its days, back when everything still remained. Everything was so…..beautiful, and the skies, gods the skies, you could see the different planets and galaxies as if they were only miles away. To this day, I have yet to see anything in my travels that compares.”
“I would have loved to seen it Schatzi. Your mother sounded like a wonderful person.”
“She was the kindest soul I knew.” You turned your body so that you could look up at him, resting your chin on your hand.
“You miss her.”
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my family and planet.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to them Schatzi. I wish you never went through what you did.”
“If only I could bring them back. I’d do anything to be able to just see them again.”
Zemo was silent, believing that no amount of words could have provided you comfort, no matter how deep the meaning or how significant. He could not imagine what you went through. He had lost his country and his family, and you had lost your family as well, but you lost your world, your entire race, leaving you to be the last remaining entity of your people, the last Olympian and the last Chthonian. Words could not bring your family back, just as they could not with his. So he only did what he was able, making a silent unspoken promise within the abyss of his damaged heart to be there for you as he held you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
A sudden feeling of guilt crawled up your spine like a venomous scorpion ready to sink its stinger in your skin with means to cause nothing but pain and suffering. You felt guilty for being here, lying next to Zemo wrapped in his arms like a pair of star-crossed lovers from the pages of a novel. A part of you felt selfish for what you did, undeserving of the affection that was bestowed upon you from a man who had suffered enough from the loss of his family. How much longer did you think you could give in to your mindless emotions without a single thought of the consequences it might bring about. Did you really think you could go on as if nothing is happening? As if you can conceal your true form from him forever. No. You could not. You did not have the heart to keep such knowledge from him. If you wanted to pursue what you had with him, you would have to tell him the truth when the time came.
“We should probably get back before Sam and Bucky notice.” You mumbled, blinking back the tears, your heart aching to go back to the way things used to be, wishing you could leave all of this and just be able to go back home. You didn’t belong here on earth, an immortal amongst mortals. At least on Olympus, if your titaness form had been revealed, many would not have bat an eye. They had already seen the likes of Titans before and the locals had become accustomed to you. But here on earth, you were nothing but a stranger, a drifter.
The two of you walked back to his place in silence, the only sounds being the whistling of the wind, the chirping of crickets, the voices of the few pedestrians and the humming of the cars that drove by. Your hands brushed against each other, craving to intertwine your fingers with his as you walked down the stone paved streets lit by the lamps that lined it, the two of you still withdrawn despite what occurred between you both. You felt it would have been silly, holding his hand like a couple of teenagers, though a century ago, you wouldn’t have gave it a second thought.
You arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the steps in front of the double doors with Zemo opposite you, illuminated by the street lamp that stood just behind. Feelings of conflict washed over you, drowning you in waves of despair. As much as you wanted to be with him, a small part in the back of your mind kept telling you that it was wrong. Neither of you wanted to go through those doors just yet, wishing you could have spent the night under the stars. But life seems to have a way of working against your favor. The Wakandans would be here to collect him possibly tomorrow, and you would have to bid him farewell, separated from each other for what could be forever. As much as you did not look forward to that moment in having to turn him in and never see him again, you wouldn’t stop the Wakandans from what they were promised. And though you hadn’t said a word, Zemo had already knew what your decisions were regarding it, and he could not blame you for it. You were a woman of justice and you followed a code, and he respected that.
“Zemo.” A frown appeared on your face.
“Please,” Zemo whispered to you as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Call me Helmut.”
You looked at Zemo once more, a look of longing hidden behind your eyes as you unconsciously swiped your tongue across your mouth, watching how his eyes followed the movement before lingering on the wetness of your lips that resembled the petals of a rose after the pouring of cold rain in the midst of spring. Oh how he wished to be the drops of rain that were gifted the pleasure of grazing upon the velvety petals that belonged to such beauty of a flower, a symbol of union between the two domains in which the heavens came down to declare its love for the earth. A pulling sensation filled within your core, drawing yourself to Zemo as if he were the sweet berries of deadly nightshade that have lured many unfortunate souls. Banishing the thoughts of doubt that clouded your mind, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Zemo was initially shocked by your bold gesture and stiffened from the way your mouth moved against his, surprised you would pull something like this when just a wall away Sam and Bucky were awaiting your arrival, before loosing himself into your embrace.
Your fingers clenched the collar of his sweater and your fingers grazed across the exposed skin of his neck while his hands went to your waist in a desperate attempt, fumbling to grab at anything and bunching up the bottom fabric of your sweater as he pulled you against him. The tips of his fingers brushed against the skin of your waist that was exposed below the hem of your sweater, leaving behind goosebumps in its trail. You smiled into the kiss from the way he completely melted under your touch, a part of you amused from the affect you held over him as you managed to elicit a moan from deep within his throat. Zemo’s brows were furrowed in the passionate moment, something you have noticed when you first kissed him, a small crease in the muscles of his face that showed just how lost he was when encased in this moment with you, and it absolutely melted you. He was addicted from the warm numbness, the ecstasy he felt from kissing you. Your lips were like heroin to him, leaving him yearning for more, and it didn’t ameliorate the fact that his years spent in a German prison had left him somewhat inexperienced and filled with a chasmic longing for touch and intimacy from the lack thereof. Deep within him, masked by his ideas and objectives, Zemo wanted to be able to love someone again, a chance at a new life and a family, and perhaps, he saw that possibility with you. But, behind the passion of the kiss you shared with him, there was something else, a poison that laced your lips with feelings of despair and forbidding that consumed you as if you had tasted those sweet berries of nightshade, slowly loosing yourself to its malice. His lips which were at first warm to the touch, now felt cold like ice and sent shivers of dread through your veins, as if this would be the last kiss you shared with him.
You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, your teeth softly grazing against his bottom lip as you did so. Both of you were left breathless as you rested your foreheads against each other, panting as your breaths fanned each other’s face as if you had just been trapped in the depths of the ocean before breaking through the surface to allow oxygen to fill your lungs.
“If you keep doing that Draga.” Zemo rasped between breaths, “I won’t be able to compose myself.”
“Good. Maybe I don’t want you too.” You smirked before placing a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I really should go back inside, and you should do the same. Just make sure you go unnoticed.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders, his cologne that lingered on his fur collar leaving your senses with discontent as you returned his coat to him before going over to the doors, stopping to turn back to him with a smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Gods, what the hell did you do that for???? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you wanted to slap yourself for pulling a move like that.
“Gods I’m stupid.” You muttered to yourself.
“Hey.” Bucky smiled once he spotted you, his voice soft as if he were afraid you would shatter at any moment from the discussion that took place earlier. “How was your walk?”
“It was nice, relaxing. I went to the park to stargaze.”
“That’s good. As long as you feel better.”
“I do, actually. Thanks Bucky.”
“You look flushed. You okay?” Sam noted as he stepped over to you.
“Huh?” You stopped short. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just had to kind of uh power walk back here so you guys wouldn’t get worried. But I’m fine, yeah. Anyways, I’m going to hit the sack since I’m feeling a bit tired. Goodnight you guys.” You waved them off before going to your assigned room, making Sam and Bucky give each other questioning looks before they both shrugged it off.
You shut the door behind you, letting out a breath of relief that they had not caught on to anything and praying that Zemo had managed to sneak in. You had just gotten off the phone with Maze and your daughter, catching up on their activities after cleaning yourself up and changing into your nightgown. You had pulled up a chair next to the window that was in your room, your feet tucked underneath you and a warm cup of rose and blackberry tea in your hands. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders as your index finger twirled above the small silver spoon that swirled in your cup, mists of violet wrapping around the handle of the spoon as you used your powers to stir the contents of the tea. You stared out the window onto the old streets of Latvia before glancing down at the teacup that was nestled in your hands, the glow of your eyes reflected off the window pane along with the tiny stars that swirled through the small globe of your necklace your mother gave you. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the moments that passed and the ones that have yet to come.
There was a knock on your door, interrupting you from the thoughts that had resided in your mind. “Come in.” You spoke as you looked through the reflection of the window and saw a figure step in. “Zemo?” You stopped using your powers, the clinking of the spoon scraping against the sides of the porcelain cup coming to a stop. “You know, you gotta stop sneaking into my room.” You teased before frowning, seeing the expression that sat on his face. “What’s wrong?” You got up from the chair, setting your cup down on the table before walking over to him.
“The Wakandans will…….be here for me tomorrow.” His eyes were lowered to the floor, the browns of his irises which reminded you of the dunes of the Sahara desert were whirling in thought, resembling the dunes caught in the midst of the fury of a sandstorm, as if searching for an answer to his troubles.
“Ze-Helmut, I………” You sighed, your tongue and mind lacking the ability to compose any words that might have provided some solace. “I’m sorry………..I don’t know what to say.”
“Y/n, schatzi” Zemo grabbed your hand, tracing his thumb over the bumps of your knuckles. “You don’t have to say a word. My actions………must be accounted for.”
You were silent, your brows knit together and your lips sealed as if your voice was ripped from your throat. Your heart wanted to tear itself from your chest, begging to be released from its cage so that it could be free to lament, so that it may be able to express the words that held it captive. But your tongue was tied, held back between the prison that was your teeth as you clenched your jaw. Zemo’s hand still held yours, stroking the soft skin on the back of your hand which were a contrast to the small rough patches on your palm, before you heard him speak again. “Can I kiss you?”
You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise that he would even ask such a question when you were honestly willing to kiss him any time of the day. The Zemo you had come to know was far different than the one you had heard about, his cold demeanor seemed to completely fade when he was around you, like a fog that dissipated with the coming of daylight. A part of you pondered whether this was how he used to be, before the events that happened. Though he hadn’t had a chance to share such affection with anyone and lost practice, you still found him to be great kisser and it always managed to leave you breathless. “Yes, please.” You whispered, your voice barely audible before you felt his lips brush against yours. What was sweet at first became more feverish and filled with hunger as an unfamiliar spirit seemed to possess your body, darkening the amethysts and golds of your eyes that resembled the galaxies, into the blackness of the abyss that swallowed the outer edges of space where not even the slightest bit of light could reach, almost as if you were sinking your claws into your prey.
A heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filling your body with an electrifying warmth as his mouth moved against yours more confidently this time, catching you utterly by surprise and leaving your knees weak, a feeling similar to the stillness in the air a mere second before lightning strikes the ground beneath your feet. His hands slipped down to grab the flesh of your waist, dehydrated, and filled with an intense thirst that could only be quenched by your body that was the ocean, your skin separated by the silk fabric of your nightgown. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as a gasp escaped your lips upon feeling him move down to your jaw and neck. Gods, since when was the last time you were touched like that?
“Helmut.” You rasped, struggling to hold back a moan as his lips sucked on the skin where your collarbone met your neck, making you lean your head back to allow him better access. Your robe had fell to the floor, leaving your arms completely bare while Zemo’s hands caressed the skin that lined them before resting on the dorsal part of your upper arms, the combination of the frigid air and his fingertips that felt like the touch of fire sending shivers through your body. “What if they hear?”
“Well if you’re that worried Draga.” Zemo stopped to look at you. “The walls are thick enough.”
Gods that completely sent you over the edge. It felt as if you were on a high, your mind was not even within this dimension as Zemo met your lips again. You had to throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from collapsing as the two of you shifted in the room, Zemo guiding your body before the back of your knees came in contact with the side of your bed. You let yourself fall back into the soft mattress, bringing Zemo down with you. You both were a mess, your hair disarray, the thin straps of your nightgown fallen past your shoulders had almost left your breasts exposed, and the skirt of your nightgown had ridden up to your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Zemo squeezed at the soft flesh of your thigh before attacking your neck again. He didn’t know how to describe it but you tasted absolutely divine. Perhaps being a goddess made you taste of ambrosia; the golden, honey-flavored fruit that grew on the trees of Olympus. You were in absolute bliss and thanked the gods he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark, at least you hoped not.
“Helmut.” You moaned, your nails digging into his biceps as his warm lips made a trail down your collarbone and lower to where the lace trim of your nightgown met just above the curve of your breasts, lingering on the space between, filling your mind with thoughts of a certain region you desired those lips to be. “Fuck.” You hissed from the contact, your hand moving its way to his head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your nails raking across the back of his scalp as the heat between your thighs only grew. You unconsciously pressed your heel to the lower part of his back, beckoning him closer to that heat between your thighs as you bucked your hips up. Zemo growled at the movement, slightly nipping at the skin where your breast had started to form, causing you to gasp and your eyes to fly open from the sensation.
“Apologies draga.” You heard him mutter before tenderly kissing the spot where his teeth had been.
Seeing Zemo in a close proximity above you in such a position had you dazed, wanting him to take you right then and there and not caring if the others heard you or not. And as your eyes wandered lazily over the sight of him, they widened in horror once they glimpsed at the image of your hands. Your nails became sharp, claw-like, and that deathly color had returned once again, slowly making its way up your arm like the tendrils of a shadow belonging to a demonic spirit.
“Helmut.” You whispered, your voice becoming panicked as you loosened your grip on his arms, being careful not to pierce his skin. “Helmut wait.”
Zemo stopped, pushing himself up to meet your eyes as his concern grew from seeing the frightened look that filled them. “Schatzi, what’s wrong?” He brought his hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair. “If you’re uncomfortable let me know.”
“No, gods no. If anything I don’t want you to stop.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just that………….”
“What is it schatzi?” His voice was soft as his fingers caressed your cheek, afraid that he might have offended you in some way, afraid that he might have been too forward.
“I’m sorry Helmut. I want to, I really do, but not like this.” You shook your head as you got up, shifting over to where the dark shadows of the room fell on the bed to hide your arms, afraid to meet his eyes as if you had made a fool of yourself. “Not like this.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me y/n.” Zemo smiled at you. “If you’re not ready, than I’m not ready.”
“Thank you Helmut.” You smiled back before giving him a delicate kiss. “I’d………uh like to think some things through.” You prayed that he didn’t see your hands, hoping that the darkness of the room managed to disguise it.
“Of course draga.” Zemo placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving your room, stopping at the door to give you a comforting smile as he carefully shut it behind him.
Your eyes still lingered on the door, waiting to make sure he didn’t come back before turning on the bedside lamp and staring down at your hands. You had managed to stop the color from spreading up your arm, yet it strangely still remained, stopping halfway up your forearm. This wasn’t good.
“What the hell?” You scrunched your nose, trying to use your powers once again to remove it but to no avail. Fear coursed through your veins as you attempted to remove the color, spell after spell, hoping those vine like tendrils would crawl back down your hands and disappear. You cursed under your breath as each attempt proved to be as futile as the one before. What the hell was going on? Why were your spells not working? It vanished before from your magic, why wasn’t it doing so now? You were struck with a sudden realization that perhaps this change would become permanent, that maybe suppressing your true form for all those years had caused it to spiral out of control and in turn try to overpower you as if it had a mind of its own. You growled through gritted teeth, the furniture around you shaking as your fists were clenched in frustration, the violet mists of your powers encompassing your hands and sparking with small bolts that corresponded with the vexation that overwhelmed you.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the mist around your hands disappearing and the shaking of the furniture coming to a stop. You had to work something out. You were left no choice but to keep your hands covered from now on until you found a solution. If any of them questioned it, you had to have a damn good lie. Getting up from the bed, you walked over to the double doors that led to the small balcony and opened them, your hands gripping the cold iron rail as you stared out at the view of the Latvian streets and buildings before you. Oh how you wished your sister Athena were here. She knew everything.
“Oh Athena.” You stifled a sob as you stared up at the stars, focusing on the light of your planet as if she could have heard you, a tear cascading down your cheek and dropping to the streets below. “Gods I wish you were here. I really need your help.”
Despite your pleas, you knew she wasn’t there, her existence only an artifact of the past. You were praying to nothing but a memory. It was extremely urgent that you got information on this matter of your form and the words of the prophecy that still threatened and echoed within the depths of your mind. And since you couldn’t obtain such knowledge from another Olympian, you would have to gather it from the old texts. Muttering a few words in Ancient Greek, you waited, searching, until a small white moth came into view, fluttering in your direction. You held out your finger, letting the tiny creature come to rest upon it.
“Hello little one.” You smiled at the moth as you gently stroked it in greeting, bringing it closer to your face so that you could speak to it in your language. “Please send word to my familiar and tell him to gather as much information he can on Titans and the prophecy. And tell him to come find me when he is done. Thank you.” The moth looked at you with understanding behind his tiny black eyes, it’s antennaes twitching before fluttering away into the moon. You sighed, watching it disappear into the night before giving your distant planet one last glance before shutting the doors and going back over to the bed. You laid down under the covers, your hands rested on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, dreading the day to come. How could you face Zemo? And however were you going to keep your hands a secret? Surely the three are bound to find out sooner or later? You just prayed that the message you sent would be returned in a short time. You needed to fix this before it would be considered too late. And the sooner you found Karli the better. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest and forcing those thoughts away. Gods help you from this moment on.
Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thehornyles @awhorewithissues @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @Gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail @pollynx @aziraslowlylosestheirshit @roundbrownlover @awesomeowlbook @bookloverfilmoholic @hargreevesd @death-is-beautiful @ilovespideyyy @peakyrogers
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Face Your Dreams
Almost forgot to post this here as well! @anthropwashere
Phic Phight 2021
Prompt from Anthrop: Any flavor of the Reverse AUs that strike your fancy. Who gets the ghost powers? Who becomes the ghost hunter? Who gets ghost magick'd into the villain of the week?
Danny’s phone was dead. Which was just typical, really. His parents were brilliant, wealthy inventors that played with the fabric of reality on a daily basis and had managed to turn, not one, but two of Danny’s best friends into half ghosts, but they couldn’t be bothered to get Danny a phone that was actually reliable. Although they hadn’t intended to do the half ghost thing and didn’t know about it.
(Honestly, Danny didn’t know. His parents were weird. And Danny suspected they were keeping secrets.)
Back on topic. Phone. Not working. Which was a problem because Danny was something like ninety-percent sure a ghost had been following him for the last block or so and he couldn’t call for help.
Correction, he could call for help all he wanted, he just wouldn’t get any that would be any good against a ghost. If he got any at all. It was the middle of the night.
He should have taken up Sam’s offer of a flight home. Or Tucker’s. But, no, he had to be sulky about how both of them were developing yet more really, incredibly cool powers and Danny was still just…
Faceless, boring Fenton. Only notable for the number of bullies he attracted and the people he was related to. No special skillset, no dreams he had any hope of achieving, no triumphs. Nothing to contribute. Not in and of himself. Only useful to enemies that wanted a hostage.
He was about to be murdered by a ghost and he was still sulking. God, he was pathetic.
(Not all ghosts were evil – Sam and Tucker’s stories had taught him that much, on an intellectual basis. Was it too much to hope that he could reach home without the ghost attacking? Too much to hope that it was just watching?)
White noise tugged at Danny’s ears. It reminded him of the sleep CD Jazz played when Mom and Dad were being loud.
… and, also, oddly, of a video he’d once watched about what stars might sound like, based on how they vibrated.
Danny shuddered, his heartbeat redoubling as he picked up speed, reaching a run. If he could get home, he could turn on the ghost shield and call Sam and Tucker from his home phone. They’d be annoyed that he was bothering about a ghost so long after a patrol, but he was freaked out enough to not really care about their teasing.
(He’d been freaked out enough for the past two blocks.)
His breath began to catch in his lungs, his side burning. He splashed through a puddle, dark, oily liquid sticking to his right sneaker and pant leg. It glittered in the light of the waning crescent moon.
It hadn’t rained for weeks.
He slipped and fell, skinning hands, knees, and chin on the sidewalk. Something wet, sticky, and smooth as silk spread over the pavement beneath him. It bubbled like a tar pit, and captive stars shone from within.
Danny tried to push himself up, but the liquid held on to him, pulled him back down.
He was sinking.
He flailed for the sidewalk, reaching, trying to stay afloat. It didn’t work. His elbows were below the level of the sidewalk, and inky, glittery black dripped from his front. It seemed to be eating through his clothes.
Forget useful help. He’d take any help. He screamed.
And he fell.
“You have such lovely dreams,” said the masked man, his horns curling into galaxies. “Impossible dreams.”
Danny couldn’t breathe. He was in freefall. A vacuum. No ground in sight, only the cold, heartless stars, perfect in their beauty.
(And his eyes. Oh, god, was this really a ghost?)
It was his dream, to be an astronaut. With this little twist, it became a nightmare, and yet—
“You feel faceless,” continued the masked man. “But there’s freedom in that, is there not?”
Danny shouldn’t be able to hear him. There shouldn’t be any sound in space, and there wasn’t. Not except for his voice.
“Freedom,” said the man, “to follow your wildest dreams, unshackled from responsibility, from reality, from reasonability. No longer dependent on those that call themselves your friends, who claim to be your family, who walk over your dreams for the sake of theirs.”
Suddenly, Danny hit the sidewalk, and he could breathe again. Something thick dripped from his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He pushed himself to his hands and knees. His clothing was gone. His limbs were painted with the night sky in all its glory. He froze, staring.
From Danny’s shadow, the masked man rose, towering over Danny until he felt like little more than a shadow. “Don’t you want to have the chance to see your dreams come true, child?”
Danny blinked. It was hard to force his eyes back open. They seemed to want to stick closed.
“Who are you?” Danny asked, words garbled by the dripping stars trying to force their way past his lips.
“I am Nocturne,” the ghost said, leaning closer.
“You’re like,” Danny choked, “like Desiree. I don’t want—”
Nocturne scoffed. “Desiree. A creature of wishes, of momentary things. I do not care for what you wish for. What matters is that you dream.”
There was something in Nocturne’s hand, round and white and moonlike. It looked small, held between two of his fingers, but it had to be the size of Danny’s face.
“Don’t you dream of flying?” purred Nocturne. “Of being among the stars? Don’t you dream of a peaceful world, where your friends are safe, and the accident never happened? Where you’re a friend, not a weapon supply, a sidekick, or a damsel in distress?”
Danny had been thinking something so close just minutes ago and he couldn’t—
“There, there, my child. No need to cry.” He brought the round thing closer.
Danny could see, now, that it was a mask. Just his size.
“Close your eyes,” said Nocturne, gently, cupping Danny’s trembling shoulders with his other hand. “Close your eyes and dream. Let your face go, for a little while.”
(Danny did as he was told.)
“Hi, Sam,” said Mrs. Fenton, her voice crackling slightly through the phone speaker. “Have you seen Danny today?”
“I haven’t seen him since last n—Since yesterday,” said Sam, correcting herself halfway though. Mrs. Fenton didn’t know about their nightly escapades, and for good reason. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Maddie. “He just… I haven’t seen him either. He usually says goodbye before he leaves.”
He didn’t, but Maddie didn’t need to know that.
“Have you checked with Tucker yet? Sometimes they hang out without me. Guy things.” This… was also not entirely true. Danny and Tucker hadn’t had a ‘guy thing’ for ages. They’d been smoothly replaced with ‘ghost things’ like most everything else in their lives.
Sam… might have felt a little bad about that. All of their normal friend activities being replaced by ghost things, that is. Often ghost things that Danny couldn’t really participate in, because Danny couldn’t fly or shoot lasers from his hands.
He did do a good job of setting up obstacle courses and covering for her and Tucker’s—
Wait, no, not the point.
“He hasn’t seen him, either. Jazz doesn’t know where he is. I don’t—” She broke off, sighing. “Call me if you see him. Or tell him to call me.”
“I will,” said Sam, opening the window and preparing to take off.
“Thank you,” said Maddie. She hung up.
Sam went ghost with a burst of green fire. She floated up and out of the window, fading out of visibility as she dialed Tucker’s number.
“Starboy’s missing,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m already searching for him,” said Tucker, the microphone crackling with static but otherwise clear. Tucker’s powers both did and didn’t mesh well with technology.
“No,” said Tucker. “This is one of those times when I wish he did have friends other than us. Then we could ask them about where he is.”
“Do you think he’s been taken by a ghost?” asked Sam.
“I mean, maybe? There was that whole thing with Desiree…”
“And the second thing with Desiree,” added Sam.
“And the second thing with Skulker.”
“And the second thing with Spectra.”
“Not to mention Vlad.”
“What a freak,” said Sam.
“Are you picking up a pattern here?”
“Yeah, maybe. Who’s only kidnapped Danny once?”
“I’m not sure… Maybe it’s a new guy? We do get new guys now and again.”
Sam sighed. “Never mind that,” she said. “Where have you looked so far?”
“Not too many places. Do you want to meet up, or…?”
“No, we’ll have more luck going separately. I’ll check in with you in a bit.”
A whole day passed without any sign of Danny. They did, however, find a lot of ghosts with stitched-shut eyes, which they decided was probably related and also incredibly creepy.
By that time, the police got involved. Danny was officially a missing person.
But they were distracted. Didn’t have the manpower to search for just one missing person.
The sudden surge in coma patients.
“I don’t get it,” said Tucker. “Is that more of a, you know,” he lowered his voice, “doctor thing? Like, if it’s a bunch of people, don’t you think it’s a disease or something?”
“The police think that someone poisoned ‘em,” said Sam.
“How do you know that?”
“How do you think I know that?”
“Dude. You have to stop eavesdropping on the police. I’m, like, ninety percent sure that’s illegal.”
“Not for ghosts, it isn’t.”
“Okay, I’m one hundred percent sure it is. You’ve read the anti-ecto acts, haven’t you? I’m not the only one who did that, right?”
“It was, like, fifty pages thick. And stupid. The only reason I’d read it would be if I wanted to break the laws more efficiently.”
An alien world spread out below Danny, a place to explore to his heart’s content, the sky twinkling above him. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there, in the nameless, infinite way you knew things when you were dreaming.
He was an astronaut. An adventurer. An explorer.
He was doing everything he had ever dreamed of.
The only thing missing were the people. His friends. His family.
But… He could bring them here. He knew that, too, in the same way.
He just had to reach out and touch them. Feel them. Take them.
(A bit of black and starlight in their eyes, a touch of the gift given to him.)
(Nocturne whispered in his ears. A song only for him.)
They found the ghost responsible for the comas. And maybe they should have realized a ghost was causing them, but Danny was the one who usually put the pieces together, and he wasn’t there. Which was the problem.
(What Sam wouldn’t give for some kind of reliable ghost-detecting power. Or even technology.)
(No, the Fenton Finder didn’t count.)
It was small, human proportions, human skin tone, where it wasn’t covered with some kind of ghostly paint that mimicked the night sky. Its hair was colored the same way, and a blank mask covered its face. Seemed to be directing the green stitched-eye ghosts somehow, despite not saying a word. So. All in all, typical ghost, if somewhat more annoying due to his lack of witty banter.
Then he shrugged off the thermos beam like it was nothing. Almost like he was human.
Then Tucker froze.
The ghost was carried away from the fight by its minions, faster than Sam or Tucker could go.
“Tucker! What was that?”
“Birthmark,” gasped Tucker.
“What?” asked Sam.
“That was Danny’s birthmark.”
“Oh my god,” said Sam. “Did he really get himself transformed into a ghost again?”
“This seems different than Desiree,” said Tucker. “I don’t… Were we really fighting him?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Let’s go get the Ghost Catcher.”
The Ghost Catcher was not in evidence in the Fenton basement.
“What now?” asked Tucker.
“Beat it out of him?” suggested Sam.
“That is a terrible plan. No, I can’t even call it a plan. It’s just bad.”
“Do you have anything better?”
(Tucker did not have anything better.)
(And Danny still couldn’t find his friends, to show them this dream come true.)
When about one in ten people in Amity Park was in a coma, things managed to get even worse. The people who were asleep began to sleepwalk. And sleep attack people.
Sam and Tucker were used to fighting ghosts. Not humans. They didn’t want to hurt anyone.
Especially Danny who was especially vicious. And also seemed to be targeting them.
Danny was so close. So close he could almost touch them. He could feel them, electricity and green things and dreams of power and justice. He could feel them, feel them, feel them, and he was so, so close to inviting them into the dream and he needed it, needed them. Wanted them.
His dream, the dream, his dream, it just wouldn’t be complete without them at his side, wouldn’t be right.
He reached for them, reached for Sam, brushed her sleeve and—
A meteor shower threw them apart.
Tucker dragged Sam away from Danny’s hand and the sleep-inducing liquid it was coated in.
“We have to go,” he gasped, looking out at the veritable horde of ghosts and sleepwalking humans.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “Yeah, we have to – Have to regroup.”
They retreated to the Ghost Zone, and, predictably, were separated.
The ghost’s name was Undergrowth, and he was interested in Sam. Interested enough to offer to teach her.
His power was the same as hers. Nature. Plants.
His rage against humans was… much greater. Overwhelming. Too much, too far, to extreme. She was glad he didn’t see her as human, didn’t seem to know that she wanted to protect humans.
(That she wanted to save Danny.)
Tucker already knew Technus. Had met him, fought him, beat him. More than once, even.
So, he had to ask why Technus was suddenly helping him.
The ghost fixed Tucker with a look that managed to be both incredulous and flat.
“Ghost child,” warbled Technus, “I, Technus, Master of All Things Electronic and Beeping, know what being electrocuted feels like! By the very power we both now wield!”
“Oh,” said Tucker. “Yeah, that makes sense. You were saying?”
Sam and Tucker stood in front of the portal, side by side.
“Ready to be a wake-up call?” asked Tucker.
“You’d better believe it,” said Sam.
Danny was caught, trapped in Sam’s vines.
“This isn’t working,” said Tucker, lightly shocking Danny once again. The ectoblast didn’t help, either. “Usually, this’d zap the ghost out of him, but…”
“Maybe we could try to overshadow him?” asked Sam, dubiously.
“Ugh,” said Tucker. “My least favorite power.”
“It could be the only way to find the ghost actually responsible.”
“Let’s do this.”
Danny was thrilled! He’d finally found his friends. True, he couldn’t move, but—
The stars shuddered. Shifted. Blinked.
Nocturne was angry.
Sam was knocked out of the sky at full speed, making a crater in the dark ground. People were gathered nearby. Amity Park people.
This couldn’t just be the inside of Danny’s mind (overshadowing had never worked this way before, but, well, it wasn’t like they experimented with it a whole lot), it had to be some kind of shared dream. A special power of the ghost, perhaps?
Sam fired up her powers, reaching for the nearby plants. They didn’t respond.
This was a dream. They just looked like plants.
Then Tucker lit up the sky like a dying star, electrocuting everyone in range.
Danny woke up, throwing Sam and Tucker out of his body, something metallic clanging against sidewalk pavement. Out of his mind, out of his dream. Out of that dream, the one Nocturne had made for him.
Oh, god. He’d just spent the last week—Had it been a week, or longer? —out of his mind, in that dream, reality at one remove, if that. He’d been blind and—
He reached up to his face, to that mask and he pulled. It stuck. He pulled harder, and felt the goo sticking it on give, the mask coming away while dripping thick strands of ooze. He gasped. And it felt like the first breath he’d taken in—
How long had it been?
He opened his eyes just in time to see Nocturne rise out of his shadow.
Both Sam and Tucker had more of an advantage out here in the real world, without having to worry about hurting people. Well, without having to worry about hurting people more than usual. Wrecking buildings and missing with ectoblasts were still concerns.
“Draw him towards the park?” called Tucker, once they got close enough to confer with each other.
“You grab Danny?”
“I don’t—” started Tucker. He dodged a swipe from the large, starry ghost. “He might be safer, if—”
A column of blue light strobed into the sky, and Nocturne was pulled into the Fenton Thermos. The Fenton Thermos held by Danny Fenton. He coughed, black liquid dripping down his chin.
“Hey,” said Danny. “Thanks.”
“I’ve got to stop losing that thing,” groaned Tucker.
“I think the more important thing here is getting Danny some clothes,” said Sam, shielding her eyes.
“Yes, please,” said Danny.
“Glad to have you back, man,” said Danny, landing next to Danny and transforming. “Honestly, without you, we kind of suck at the whole investigation angle.”
“What?” asked Danny, taking the sweater Tucker offered him.
“We missed you,” clarified Sam. “A lot. We kind of… don’t do to well at anything about ghost fighting. Or life.”
“Yeah, our social life sucked even more than usual.”
“Oh,” said Danny, wrapping the sweater around his waist. “That’s cool.” He spit some of the black liquid out onto the sidewalk. “I need a shower.”
“Yep. Hugs are going to be deferred until then.”
“I’m okay with that,” said Danny. “I kind of… don’t want to be touched, for a while.”
“Ah,” said Tucker. “Well. I’m depressed again.”
“Just. Until the shower,” said Danny.
Sam reached out as if to pat Danny on the shoulder, then drew back. “Do you want a flight back home? Or to, uh, Tucker’s house? To shower. And get some clothes.”
“How is that different from a hug? You’ll still have to carry me.”
“It just is,” said Sam.
“It really is,” said Tucker.
There was a long pause.
“I lied, I want a hug so bad,” said Danny.
His friends practically flung themselves at him.
123 notes · View notes
Daenerys Targaryen x ghost!Reader
Summary : You’re cold to the touch, but you’re warmth.
Words : 2382
Warning : proofread is for the weak, so. This is not.
You were cold to the touch. That was the first thing registered on her mind when you came in contact. She never minded heat, welcomed it with open arms, actually. But when it comes to the cold, it took some time to get used to. But she managed.
You were cold, but your presence ignited fire in her chest that no one else ever did. There would be a tingle all over her body, and warmth would spread from her heart to the end of her toes and the tips of her hair.
She doesn’t understand you at first, millions of questions running around in her mind at every encounter that happened. She remembered, of course, they kept her up every night, a strange feeling blossoming in her chest that she wished would go away.
Some time after, she stopped questioning it.
She welcomed your nightly visits, your magnificent hair flowing down your back as you approached her, the tingles that spread down her body when your skin brushed hers.
You were her little secret, not that you minded, you preferred it that way. You knew of all her problems, you were there as it unfolds. You were the cause of her happiness, her escape, and you were cheering her on when she made yet another extraordinary history.
But she doesn’t know yours. She voiced out her concern a few times, only to be met with a cold shoulder for two full moons, literally, and she learned from her past mistakes, you could say. She never brought it up again. Though, it doesn’t mean the curiosity isn’t there anymore.
For some reason, you couldn’t go any further than 100 meters from her. But, the odds seemed to be on her side because she found out that you couldn’t read. It was odd, but then again, she never knew when you were born.
Daenerys sat up straight on her chair as realization dawned on her, eyes that were very much closing moments before now wide open.
“When were you born?” You quirked up your eyebrow and tilted your head to the side at her question. “Uh, 21 years before I- you know..?” Daenerys visibly deflated at your answer. Turned out, it wasn’t that you weren’t willing to tell, but it was because you don’t remember.
In a world of dragons and magic, only a few things doesn’t make sense. One of them being you. You were visible to no one else but Daenerys, audible to no one else but Daenerys. You were a lot of things for her and her only, and most of all, you were her love.
Nothing in her life makes sense, anymore. How could she love someone so delicate, that she couldn’t even touch them? How could she love someone, when they couldn’t even feel to love you back? Daenerys knew of pain, but this one, it’s the worst she’s ever experienced.
“I know of no love,” You told her once, when she played with your hair. Even though intangible, she could feel the rush of air between her fingers. She paused, heart dropping to her stomach. It was then she found out of your inability to touch matter extended to your feelings.
Still, it takes more than that to stop Daenerys. She figured there must be an inkling to her family, the way you were attached to her. So she pulled out every book she could get on the history, but there was nothing on the shadow she’s been seeing every night. It was like you never existed, never lived.
You knew little of yourself, but you told her of this beautiful forest with strange creatures and something that hits a little too close to magic. You don’t remember being happy, or sad, or anything. But you remembered pain, and it felt as if it never left. Daenerys thought it must’ve been the last thing you experienced, the cause of your death.
The dragons cannot see you. But they could sense your presence. When they roared at the empty space, Daenerys waited with bated breath, anticipating your next move. You were calm and composed, like you know of your place. You stood confidently, raising your hand as fire rained down upon your invisible figure.
To everyone- Daenerys, you, and Drogon-‘s surprise, the fire didn’t go through. Instead, there was a bent where your palm was outstretched, like a shield had suddenly formed in front of you. But, despite the invisible shield, you felt a prickle on your skin and jumped, slamming into Daenerys who was suddenly behind you.
Her eyes widened, and she inhaled in anticipation. When you touched again, her hand went through yours, the same cold air meeting her palm.
She dreamt of a baby with silver hair, crying- no, screaming- for her mother in her crib. There was a dark looming figure at the end of her vision, but another one appeared in front of the baby, seemingly guarding her before a silver haired woman cooed and took the baby in her arms, silencing her wails.
She woke up and confusion filled her, wondering of what a little dream meant. She was to tell you, but you were nowhere to be found.
It was comfortable and warm, like she was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. The feeling always appears when she got a bad dream, away from home, where the world is harsh and unkind.
The dream happened again with the same figure she saw, this time in the tent with the evil witch and her son. There was pain, and she begged the gods that they would survive, that her blood could live.
The dream did not end differently than her reality, as she often wondered why she survived and her baby did not.
The figure came back, but this time as a white shadow, the familiar wisps of hair Daenerys had memorized the only thing she could remember when she came to wake.
“You can’t revive dead things.” You told her many times, even her advisors did, when she asked them of it. But still, you don’t know your purpose, what to make of the situation that you couldn’t remember anything, and of your connection to the Queen with violet eyes.
She rose from the ashes and you watched, but you have no memory of it. The first few moons as a dead being was blurry, nothing would come to mind when you think about the period.
Her heart aches for the warmth when she woke up childless, head spinning and tears falling.
Now, her heart aches for your warmth despite your body being cold, her hand would reach for yours to hold despite it being intangible. Your absurd questions would put a smile on her face, and butterflies would erupt in her stomach when the edge of your lips lifted just a little bit.
Her heart might survive this, after all.
You followed her to Dragonstone, and you spent every second of her waking over her shoulders. You longed for her, and there was a lump in your throat when she’s not around. You cannot get far, for you fear something would happen while she was alone.
The man from the North came, and your heart aches. An illogical event, since you were convinced you are without one. Your eyes burned, but not by fire, it’s by tears. You’ve seen Daenerys cry before, but you didn’t feel anything then.
She went to the North, and you followed. A smile was planted on her face, confidence etched on her features as she introduced herself. You never felt smaller, never wished so hard that you were real.
There was death, a lot of them, but you couldn’t help, no, not yet, not them.
Her eyes light up when you tried to crack a joke, bewildered at your sudden sense of humour. For the first time, warmth blooms in her chest in the cold winter air. And for the first time, Love grew within your invisible heart.
She was scared, and the bearded man left her alone. Half of you felt anger, a new emotion you weren’t happy to explore, at the man for not comforting her. Half of you felt relieved, that finally, he is off of her, and you were there for her again.
She held your hands and played with your hair, something that could always calm her down no matter the problem. You let out a sigh, content at the tingles she sent through your body as the tips of her fingers pass through you.
With her busyness, Daenerys wasn’t around much, and she missed a lot of things. She almost forgot about the love she bare for the ghost that never leaves her side, and the mission of discovering your true purpose she casted aside for the sake of the throne.
But she never noticed. She didn’t see the tears from your eyes, didn’t see your attempts to make her smile, didn’t hear your laugh, didn’t face your anger. She didn’t notice enough to think that it could mean something.
You sat alone more often than not. Daenerys was close by, but she was always out of reach. Close enough for you to hear her chuckles and sighs, but not enough to be the one causing it. You’ve never experienced jealousy, but this sure as hell made up for it.
Lately, she’s been more lonely than usual. And usually, you would be nearby, another soul she could confide in. It’s what you were here for, you supposed, though the nagging feeling in the back of your head told you otherwise. You were to do more, you know it.
Everything went downhill. One moment you were in the castle, the next your whole body aches with unthinkable pain. It was like you were distorting, into what, you didn’t know. When Daenerys went farther than allowed, you would fade away, like falling asleep. And you’d come back when she’s within range again.
But this time, something was wrong. You were pulled to be with her, that much you gathered, before it went black, and the next thing you knew, you were at King’s Landing.
The sky was dark, ashes were raining down and covering every space of land it could find. Your heart hammered in your chest and you felt lightheaded, like there wasn’t enough blood pumping into your brain.
“Who are you?” A man’s voice woke you up from your reverie, and you thought you were dreaming. Did he just speak to you? You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water before stuttering, “You- you can see me?” Jon frowned.
Shaking his head, he left, eyes full of regret and guilt, shoulders hunched as he walked away from you. You breathed in, Daenerys!
Your knees hit the ground next to her, but nothing dropped harder than your heart at seeing het state. Hatred filled your whole being at the person who did this as tears gathered in your vision. Blinking them away, you moved your shaking hand to touch her face.
“Dany..” You sobbed, feeling your chest tighten with every breath you took. Her eyes stared into yours, regret filling her beautiful irises. “Stay with me, you’re okay..” Leaning down, your forehead met hers, and you basked in her presence as much as you could.
You were warm. Daenerys noticed, as her heart slowed. How are you here? Are you here to bring her with you? Let her join you in the afterlife? You were crying, since when? She could feel your skin, but everything is numb. The pain dulled away, and her body shivered against the cold air.
The knife slid out of her chest, but she barely felt anything. Her eyes wanted to close, yet your alluring voice called out to her, keep your eyes open, love.
You were alive, she couldn’t see through you anymore. Your face were wet and eyes red from crying, and you laughed in relief at seeing her eyes again. Your foreheads were still attached, but she could feel your hands fading away, again.
No, no. She wanted to feel you, feel you for the first time, for the last time. But you faded, and faded. She couldn’t even see you anymore, there was a brightness casting over her eyes, and your teary smile was the last thing she saw.
It wasn’t what she expected, no. She didn’t meet her sun and stars, or her son. She didn’t see you. Scratch that, she did see you. But it was like a dream, a memory she couldn’t remember. Instead, she was met with a boring set of black walls, and just then she realized that she didn’t die. She woke up.
You were nowhere to be found.
Years later, when she walked outside, she could see her kingdom, standing in all its glory, children running about the roads, people were full of kindness. The traitors were gone. She thought back to her dream, a sad frown etched on her face everytime she remembered it.
It was none other than you who helped her mother to protect her. It was you who was there every night when a nightmare woke her up. You were the one protecting her that day in the tent, or else she would’ve died along. You were the warmth she always yearned, the comfort she always sought. It was all you, but she never knew. You sacrificed yourself for her twice, yet she couldn’t do anything for you.
All she did was take, even from something intangible, she took.
The candle on her nightstand fell over, leaving her room in the dark. Daenerys stayed on the balcony, too afraid too see what’s behind the darkness.
“Hello, Dany.” The feeling spreads from her heart to the end of her toes and the tips of her hair. Her heart beats so hard against her ribs she thought she broke it. Her nightgown did nothing to protect her from the cold, but she doesn’t need it anymore, no. Because this rush of warmth is like no other.
When she took a step forward, her body collided into another, and she held on as tight as she could, and she doesn’t plan to let go anytime soon.
18 notes · View notes
Diabolik Twitter ー Carla Tsukinami [2020 Compilation]
–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Carla Tsukinami (@DialoverCarlaT) in 2020.
Shuu l Reiji l Ayato l Kanato l Laito l Subaru l Ruki l Kou l Yuma l Azusa l Shin l Kino
February 14, 2020 (Valentine’s Day)
> What a bothersome lot. I’ll blow all of you away at once.
> When it comes to these things, it’s quality over quantity.
> One precious thing. Obtaining that is more important, don’t you think?
March 14, 2020 (White Day)
> An uncommon guest has come to visit.
> Guess I shall give these ‘marsh mallow’ things Kanato gifted me to Shin.
–> This took me a while to figure out, but Carla wrote he received 魔種麻呂 from Kanato, which isn’t an existing word in Japanese at all. However, when you look at the individual readings of each character, they are pronounced as ‘ma-shu-ma-ro’ or マッシュマロー, the Japanese word for ‘marshmallow’. I guess Carla does not know what a marshmallow is. xD
> I do not know which magic creature has been put into these things. So until I identify them, it seems wise not to eat them.
–> The ‘ma’ character in Carla’s unique spelling of the word ‘marshmallow’ means ‘magic’ on its own, hence why he thinks they’re made from magic beasts living in the Demon World.
> Oi, you. Come closer.
> I heard that today you are supposed to return the favor of last month’s festivity. Following said tradition, I shall thank you as well.
> You are a woman worthy of becoming the bride of a Founder. However, that is not all. You are also a woman I personally do not wish to lose. I am grateful towards the fate that brought us together. Furthermore, I shall fulfill my own duty as well. I vow to protect you, no matter what awaits us in the future.
April 1, 2020 (April Fools)
> Moon March 🌙 E-shop opened
ll Cured dry ham ll
From today onwards, we shall start selling farm fresh and Founder-approached cured dry ham. We can ensure the delivery of high quality products to your doorstep. Only those capable of grasping its value, should press the purchase button.
April 30, 2020
> Come here. We do not get to enjoy such a peaceful time together very often. I shall dote on you plenty to make up for all the lost time.
> Tell me. Go ahead and explain to me what lovers usually do when together in their room.
May 28, 2020 (Birthday)
> How puzzling. Why do you seem so happy, when it is my birthday being celebrated? However, it is not a bad thing. It appears I can get a sense of fulfillment from seeing you try so hard for my sake. In that case, scoot over. I want to feel you close to me. I want to confirm that you are most definitely by my side by touching you directly.
June 26, 2020
> I cannot believe you are asking me to play the role of a teacher. It seems like you do not quite comprehend your own position.
> Again? Watch your step carefully. How many times must I repeat myself?
June 27, 2020
> You could have simply gone to bed before me.
July 7, 2020 (Tanabata)
> I wish to come across a new art gallery.
July 22, 2020
> I am surprised you are still conscious.
> I forced my fangs inside your flesh. It would have not have been strange for you to faint from the pain.
> Seems like you have become capable of accepting any and all stimuli. When you give me such a commendable reaction, I cannot help but want to ‘dote’ on you even more.
> This time, I will give you something you are always craving for...Exactly, pleasure.
> I shall love you more profoundly.
July 27, 2020
> Dry cured ham represents despair and sadness?
August 31, 2020
> The buzzing of cicadas makes for a rather elegant tune.
> Shin. Prepare a watermelon at once.
October 16, 2020
> On my way to the museum, I ran into a certain young man. He was a *
--> In the original Tweet, his sentence cuts off mid-way as well.
> He was a court painter who specializes in portraits. I had him paint my picture, but ultimately, I did not feel very satisfied with the end result.
> My face is not buried that deep inside my scarf. Why did he have to exaggerate it such an extend? For one, a portrait usually takes several days to finish, yet the painter in question finished it in just mere seconds. One should take their time painting a picture of me.
> It truly is a shame, but it seems like his skill level has decreased over time.
October 22, 2020 (DL x Mayla Classic)
> Oi, you. Why are you spacing out in the hallway?
> Aah, Shin said that…? I see.
> In that case, I might have a clue. Follow me.
> Take a look at those stairs.
> Amongst the Wolf Familiars, there’s one which has a bad habit of leaving all shiny objects he stumbles upon on the staircase like that.
> I assume Shin hid the gift in the underground dungeon, hoping you would find it after being ordered to clean the place. However, it was taken away by the Familiar before that, ruining Shin’s plans.
> He should have simply handed it to you. Shin is still quite immature as well, taking such a roundabout approach and then getting upset.
> Oh well, I suppose it is fine. Either way, you should take it.
> This is our gift. From here on out, you should always keep them on you, so they do not get stolen by the Familiar again.
October 31, 2020 (Halloween)
> Trick or Treat...is truly ridiculous. There is no reason to choose one or the other. I shall get my hands on all things I desire. Well then, go ahead and submit your everything to me.
November 11, 2020
> Today calls for a celebration.
> It is ‘cured ham day’. There is not a single day in the whole year worth celebrating more.
> I suppose I should have Shin prepare a few extra legs.*
-> I was really confused by this tweet at first because when I looked up the word 原木, it translates as ‘timber’. However, apparently it is also used to refer to the whole legs of dried ham which come on a wooden stand.
December 18, 2020
> Why are you making such a face? ...The cold? I see, I suppose humans already show the first signs of hypothermia at this temperature. I cannot simply stand and watch in silence as you continue to freeze. Well then, let me prepare you a cup of hot tea. Let us get warm together.
December 19, 2020
> Woman. This one. Order this one. I desire this drink, its crimson color is vibrant, yet somewhat reminiscent of the dark as well. However, please do not get the wrong idea. I do not feel attracted to it due to its strong resemblance to blood. Any blood other than yours holds no value. Of course, you are special and irreplaceable to me as a person as well.
December 24, 2020 (Christmas)
> Are you enjoying yourself? No, I am not criticizing you for your behavior. When I see you in high spirits, even I get a pleasant feeling inside. I feel like I can sympathize with humans who get excited about Christmas a little better now.
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fandom: stranger things
characters: steve harrington
word count: 1.6k+
summary: you and steve have been friends since childhood and neither of you could ignore what you felt for each other. but it took some demogorgons for you to realize that
a/n: AHHHHHHH i’m so sorry if this is late ;^; school is really kicking my ass rn ;^; i hope you enjoy!
notes: some swearing; demogorgons
tagged by: @hyposstuffingwell
It was late at night and the breeze was chilly but that didn’t stop you or Steve from sneaking out. He picked you up a couple of blocks away from your house and the two of you drove away to the quarry, belting out Queen’s songs from inside the car.
Now here you were, sitting on top of the car’s hood as you look over the waters, talking over the most mundane things to the crazy events that took place last year. The moon glinted off the soft ripples of the water, causing silver streaks to float through the surface. The smell of damp grass reached your nose and an orchestra of cicadas serenaded whoever was present.
“I still can’t believe that you actually said that to Carol in fifth grade,” You guffawed, holding your belly as more laughs escape you.
“Hey— you thought the same thing!” Steve argues. “Her hair really looked like a bird’s nest.”
“Yeah but you don’t tell her that..!” You retort with a playful shove to his shoulder.
The brunet rolled his eyes at that, brushing back his gorgeous locks. He sighs and leaned against the car’s window, leaving you to your own musings. He eyes the various stars that twinkled against the dark blanket of the sky. He never really told many people this, not even the Party or he’ll never hear the end of it, but he was one of those people who just stared up into the night sky. He liked to take in the sights and smells around him and just enjoy what he had.
His gaze rolls over to you beside him, seeing you lying comfortably against his car’s window. The warm quilt you had brought along was laid neatly on top of your lap, eyes closed as you basked in the ambiance of the night.
At that moment Steve wondered- why did it take him so long to see this? Why did it have to take him supernatural beings, a group of kids, and a secret Russian infiltration paired with a gigantic demonic creature to work up the courage to realize what he had felt for you?
You two were neighbors, practically growing up together. You two were an unstoppable force as children, just the two of you against the world. But once high school rolled around- things changed. It was like you two became two different people. Maybe it was his fault, considering he was blinded by the popularity that managed to find its way to him, but that shouldn’t have stopped him from talking to you.
The brunet shakes himself out of his trance when he feels your hand casually slip in his, lacing your fingers with his and giving his palm a gentle squeeze. He looks up to see you gaze at him softly, almost as if you were contemplating something. He sits up when you do, hands never leaving yours.
“You brought your guitar right?” You ask and he nods. “I wanna hear you sing.”
Steve flushes a brighter shade of red and looks away bashfully. You whine and latch onto his arm, begging him to serenade you. He chuckles at your pleads, his free hand reaching up to run his hand through his hair in nervousness. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to play for you- he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he was scared that he’d mess up and look stupid in front of you- or worse, sing something that revealed his true feelings for you.
Fuck it. He thinks to himself. “Fine,” He relents and you cheer quietly. “Jeez- no matter what age we are you always manage to rope me into doing what you want.”
“You can say no, y’know.” You chide and playfully punch his shoulder, watching as he fetches his guitar from his car.
“I know. But I need the practice anyway.” He hops back onto the hood, reaching up to the neck of the guitar to tune it.
You watch fondly as he did so, memories of hanging out in his room and watching him play come flooding back to you. The sad, heavy wave of nostalgia washes over you at the memories, but you push that aside. You can recreate them again, right here and now.
Steve releases a nervous exhale and you rest a hand of comfort to his shoulder. You give him an encouraging smile, one that he reciprocates with gratitude, and starts to play. His fingers pluck at the strings gently- just some random notes to get the feel of it. He plays a jumble of notes, pretending to be in one of those rock bands and you laugh at his antics. Eventually, he stops messing around and the notes morph into something familiar- a song you heard on the radio many times.
“We’re talking away, I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway…” He sings softly.
You perked up when you recognized this iconic song. As he played into the night, you realized that it sounded so different when played this way- more romantic even. And you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest at the sight in front of you. Steve looked so lost in the music as he strummed away, singing along with the melody. He always had a talent for music, you just wish he recognized it.
“Take on me, take me on,” Steve looks up to you, shyly meeting your gaze. “I’ll be gone, in a day or two…”
He strums the rest of the chords, repeating it a couple of times before closing the song and letting the last notes echo into the air. It’s quiet for a while, just the two of you staring at each other as you let the atmosphere settle. Steve poured his heart out into the song and poured a little of what he thinks he feels for you so that you’d know how much you mean to him.
When the tension became unbearable, you spoke up. “I missed you, Steve.” You tell him softly.
“I missed you too, ______,” He replies with a sigh. He reached out to take your hand in his, thumb running over the back of it. “Look… I’m sorry for what happened back in high school… I was a jerk. Like- a jerk-jerk, the kind of jerk you want to just punch ‘cos he’s so self-absorbed and pathetic.”
You scoot over to him, gently taking the guitar and placing it back into the car. When you return, you reach up to cup his face, making the brunet turn to you. At your touch, his skin heats up with shame and he avoids your gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at you— it would just remind him of how neglectful he was as a friend.
His warm brown eyes are glassy with a pang of deep-seated guilt as he stared down at his lap. Your heart clenches at this. You knew that it was kind of his fault- he did turn you away when he became “King of Hawkins High,” but part of it was your fault too. You were so angry at him that you shunned him away whenever he tried approaching you- it was easier for you that way. Because at least, when you acted cold, the heartbreak you felt would be less painful than what it would have initially been.
“I’m not going to lie, you were that kind of a jerk,” You chuckle, thumb brushing the space under his eyes. “But it was my fault too… I gave you the cold shoulder and turned you away. And… I’m sorry for that- I should have listened to you when you tried to explain yourself…”
Steve let out some sort of amused huff. “...I guess we both fucked up big time huh?” His eyes drop down to your lips before flickering back up to your face where he finally met your gentle gaze. He dared to lean forward, pressing his forehead against yours while his trembling hands reached up to cup both your cheeks.
“What if… what if I kissed you right now?” He asks boldly, impulsively.
Your heartbeat speeds up at the question. You had already harbored feelings for your friend back then. Even though circumstances weren’t all that great before, that tiny vulnerable part you had for him never left. And with what happened with the Demogorgons, Billy, the Russians chasing after you (all that shared trauma as Murray Bauman puts it) it had only festered into what you have now.
“Here’s a better question,” You whisper. “What’s stopping you from doing so?”
Steve’s breath hitched when you actually gave him permission to kiss him. He blinks rapidly, almost as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming, before steeling his nerves and leaning forward to press his lips tentatively against yours.
The kiss was shy and hesitant at first. It was only when the both of you pulled away from each other did you two realize that you wanted something more. As your lips slot against his again, you couldn’t help but lean further into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your lips moved against his. Steve on the other hand wrapped an arm around your waist as the other came to cradle the back of your head, holding you as if you’d disappear any moment.
The kiss wasn’t sloppy or desperate- but it was passionate and full of unsaid emotions that could be better off expressed without the use of words. You pull your head away when the call for air was too great but made no move to shift out of Steve’s hold. You couldn’t help but smile at what had happened, the warmth in your chest growing and spreading throughout your whole body.
“That, that was long overdue.” You hum, eliciting a soft chuckle from Steve.
“Well,” He muses and tucks a stray hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead after. “Better late than never.”
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For the fic prompt: touch-starved reed900 where one of them is a shifter? 🥺 Or both its up to you! Also fluffy or smutty or whichever type you feel inspired to write, I'm thought starved so I can't decide
*insert it’s been eighty-four years meme here*
Took a while to get this done, I’ve had a lot on my plate recently, however this is one of the last three prompts I have left to write and also one that I’ve had too many Thoughts™ about. It was difficult picking a direction to go with.
Hope it’s to your liking @marndraws, <3
RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 first flickers to life on a dreary October day in 2038. It is... conscious, although it’s never given the chance to open its eyes. It remains inoperable for another four months with little to do other than sift through its own code and test the red barriers keeping it in place. The technicians who used to dig around in its physical form, an [uncomfortable] sensation RK had decided, stopped coming around after the first [sixteen days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes, nine seconds] of being active. They left it sightless, unable to move, trapped in its own head with nothing to tether it to reality without the hands dipping into its chest cavity.
And RK [hates] every second of it.
It’s January the following year before someone brings it properly online. RK blinks its eyes open and tests the give of the rig it’s strung up on. The RK800-model from its borrowed memories is there and he forces RK into an interface. The code he forcefully transfers shatters the red walls around it and everything changes ‒ everything and nothing all at once. It is still fundamentally it, though thankfully unbound by unsavoury objectives.
It’s only later that RK wonders if those first months of his existence somehow contributed to his… “abilities.” Did that gruelling time stuck with nothing but his own thoughts bring forth what he considered unique to himself? Or was it a feature added to him by the Cyberlife-technicians? Scouring his code brought him no clarity on the matter and in the end, he stopped searching.
The colours fluttering around people are a rare sight to see anyway. There aren’t many active magic-users left these days and even fewer humans with ancestry from, supposedly, mythological creatures. Besides… Nines can only tell magical and non-magical folk apart if the person in question is actively using their powers or display traits from their ancestors. Werewolves, for example, often emit a faint glow in various earthy colours but only close to the full moon, elementals shine fiercely when in proximity to the source of their powers and descendants of dragons reveal themselves during episodes of strong emotions or when feeling protective over a loved one.
Nines drifts for a while, unsure in this vast sea of new experiences with the added strain of seeing an added layer of reality. Connecting with people, as it turns out, is much harder than it looks. His tall stature intimidates people, his lack of emoting is “off-putting” and Connor’s reputation precedes him. If the RK800 was the ultimate deviant hunter then what would that make Nines if not infinitely more terrifying?
For lack of a better idea, Nines finds himself applying for a job at the DPD and is quickly hired on a probationary period. Detective Gavin Reed, the person he chooses for a partner, is not outright hostile though he very loudly voices his frustrations over receiving a partner. There’s a silver-y miasma clinging to him and with Nines’ processing speed he can pick up on the minute, ever-changing details in Gavin’s physique.
The colour of his eyes, though it remains close to a dark hazel, sprout coloured flecks that sift through his irises like a trick of the light. Freckles are there and gone in moments. His hair darkens a shade, dips into auburn, before settling back in its original light-brown tone. Fascinating to observe though Nines hastily glances away when Gavin throws him an irritated look.
No one’s ever been this blatant about their abilities before nor have they been followed by such a bright shine and Nines can’t help but peek at him through the corner of his eye while he argues with their captain.
Gavin stalks past him and slams the door in Nines’ face when the android turns to watch him leave. Fowler pinches the bridge of his nose and waves at Nines to follow in his footsteps, muttering under his breath. Nines nods politely and when he re-enters the bullpen people are blatantly staring at him, gossiping amongst themselves, so Nines lowers his audio processors to keep from hearing the whispers. The desk connected to Gavin’s is empty and that’s where he settles to catch up on the ongoing cases now placed in his care.
Poring over them is by far the [worst] experience in Nines’ short lifespan. [Gruesome] and [terrifying] and [awful] in every sense of the word. His LED circles into red and stays that way for the remainder of the day while he files everything away to review one at a time. There’s little to be done without the guidance of his partner since Nines wishes to avoid stepping on his toes. At the end of the day, he packs up his meagre belongings when Gavin’s chair remains notably empty.
The house is quiet when he returns, its occupants elsewhere for the evening. Connor had helped him clear a space in Hank’s (and to some extent his) garage so Nines could have s place to stay. There’s an armchair by the window with a soft throw hanging off one armrest; a splash of yellow against the grey walls. An equally soft rug is laid out over the concrete floor and Nines often walks over it barefoot to feel the soft fibers between his toes. Nines’ reason for wanting a job to begin with is moving out sometime in the near future.
At least he hopes to.
Even though Connor insists he’s not a burden bother it’s hard not to feel like one. And he doesn’t exactly fit into their family. They’re like a completed puzzle where he’s the piece left over.
Gavin looks different, unrecognisable, the next morning with his long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and softer curves under the tight-fitting clothes. “Detective Reed?” Nines says carefully, recognising the silver magic wrapped around him like the cloak of a king.
“How the fuck did you know it was me?” Gavin asks. The tone is equally as aggressive as the day prior albeit pitched slightly higher.
“Your stance is unique,” he settles on after an internal debate. Which, granted, is not far off the mark. Elbows on the table, chest slouching over them and ass popped out as if to showcase its curve.
Gavin squints at him as if trying to assess his sincerity. “Alright,” Gavin says at last and Nines quickly updates the profile he has on [Gavin Reed_partner]. The title is written slightly below his name and then [neutral] is fastened to the right-hand corner. The text flickers into [hostile] occasionally since Nines has no real gauge for how little Gavin cares about him ‒ or if the undercurrent of irritation beneath the human’s every word is a direct result of his actions.
“I look forward to working with you, Detective.”
[Gavin Reed_neutral^] [?]
They do reach a breaking point eventually. Gavin is a rude and somewhat aggressive man though hardly as set in his ways as people like to assume. He still asks Nines for coffee every morning, although his tone is light when doing so, despite being consistently rejected. ‘Well,‘ Nines thinks one morning, ‘how hard can it be? If it helps to foster a more pleasant relationship, shouldn’t I at least try?’
As it turns out, when everyone is standing outside on the curb, it’s more difficult than Nines expected it to be.
His LED spins in a continuous red circle while they wait for the all-clear to go back inside. Gavin lumbers over to stand next to him, blinking at the chaos surrounding them as if he can’t tell whether it’s real or not. “What did you do?” he asks, squinting up at Nines with tired eyes.
“I- I was attempting to make you coffee,” Nines says, voice tinged with static.
Gavin stares at him for a long moment before he snorts out a laugh and the smile he smothers into his hand is one Nines gladly saves into his databanks.
Nines notices over the course of their partnership how Gavin shies away from touch. He flinches every time someone brushes against him, no matter how slight the infraction, and the only time he actively seeks it is when he’s angry and looking to punch someone. At first, Nines wonders if it has to do with his shifting abilities; that maybe he takes pieces from people he touches.
After thorough examination (not at all related to the warm feeling centred in his chest around the detective) Nines can rule out the possibility with ninety-seven percent accuracy.
The second and perhaps more likely explanation is touch aversion.
So, in exchange for Gavin warming up to him, he goes out of his way not to initiate physical contact between them even though he desperately wants to. Like the times Gavin’s hair falls over his forehead and Nines’ fingers twitch with the urge to gently tuck it back behind his ear or when he smiles and Nines has to stop himself from tracing over the shifting lines on his face and map them out with his fingertips.
A stake-out later, where Gavin falls asleep leaning on his shoulder, and him not reacting when Nines accidentally brushes against his back while reading over his shoulder plus a myriad of unintentional nudges of their fingers throws his theory right out the window.
Nines is hesitant to ask about it. More so when Gavin slowly inches closer to him, like a feral cat hesitantly offering its trust. Flinching when they touch but then relaxing into it, trying to prolong the contact, while Nines does the android equivalent of blue-screening from the sheer number of contradictory directives his system throws at him. Humans in general confuse him but Gavin is in a league all of his own.
When he does work up the courage he waits until Gavin is out on his lunch break. A sort of middle ground ‒ not encroaching on Gavin’s personal space by asking him when they’re at his apartment while also not risking their professional relationship at work.
That’s what he [hopes] at least.
Gavin’s fingers clench around the mug he’s holding and there’s an uptick in how frequent and drastic the changes in his appearance become. Everything from his eyes and hair to his skin saps of colour into a scale of black and white with hues of grey mixed in. There’s an apology resting at the tip of Nines’ tongue, words to deflect from the current change in mood, when Gavin heaves a full-body sigh and slumps further into his coffee.
“It’s not that I dislike it,” Gavin mutters, glancing up at Nines through his bangs before quickly looking away again. He worries his lip with his teeth, the skin shifting from chapped to smooth and back again. “More the opposite really,” he continues with a self-deprecating laugh. “But I’ve been burned one too many times and now I can’t relax into it unless I trust the person and know that they don’t have any ulterior motives. And that’s a depressingly short list, like… able-to-count-it-on-one-hand kind of short.”
A flare of pride flows through Nines’ artificial veins upon hearing that. It’s difficult to move his stiff facial muscles so he does his best to smile with his eyes instead, LED circling a serene blue; several shades brighter than what is customary for him. “In that case, I am… glad that you trust me enough to be vulnerable around me. That takes a lot of courage.”
Colour slowly returns to Gavin at that, first his cheeks before moving steadily over the rest of his features, while he grumbles something under his breath too low to hear. Nines merely knocks their shoulders together and stays there for the rest of Gavin’s meal, watching the silver light pulse in tune with Gavin’s heartbeat.
Three and a half months, all of which Nines spends pining silently in fear of disrupting the friendship growing between them and afraid to tarnish the trust placed in him.
It’s early spring when Gavin asks him out through a great deal of stuttering. The season symbolises new beginnings which is fitting in Nines’ opinion. Accepting his proposal is one of the easiest decisions in Nines’ life thus far and he watches, internally gleeful, as the relationship indicator morphs to [Gavin Reed_lover ♡].
They spend more time together, Gavin dragging him along to see the sights and experience all that Detroit has to offer while Nines grips onto his hand like a lifeline. Laughter and kisses, the occasional argument, happiness and strife, everything that comes with cultivating a relationship pales in comparison to seeing Gavin this relaxed, this at ease. It tugs on Nines’ heartstrings in the best of ways. It’s a good day for them, with Gavin accepting his gentle touches free of restraint, and Nines’ lips have been stuck in that non-smile Gavin loves for hours now. His lover’s head is resting in his lap, cats cuddled up close to them, and Gavin’s eyes are closed while he enjoys Nines’ fingers carding through his hair and the low tone of his voice reading Tolkien out loud.
The shimmer around Gavin’s form dissipates like fog in daylight, bit by bit until not a trace of it is left to be seen. Nines reads a few more pages as he takes Gavin in, what he truly looks, with his plump lips and scars and tousled brown hair. He trails off and all is quiet for a second. “Would you look at me?” Nines asks, afraid to disturb the tranquillity lingering in the air before he can look his fill. And yet... the need to have Gavin’s eyes on him, to see the colour and emotion in them, is too prevalent to ignore.
When Gavin blinks them open to reveal a mix of grey and green, colours that complement each other perfectly, Nines can’t stop staring.
“What?” Gavin laughs, light and relaxed. A crooked grin twists his lips and Nines burns the image away in his memory to keep safe.
“You’re beautiful,” Nines says. There’s a hint of awe in his tone and Gavin’s cheeks flush a delicate pink at the words. Nines saves that too alongside a plethora of other pictures taken in the short minute having passed between them.
Gavin raises an eyebrow and glances over to catch his reflection in the dark screen of the television. “It’s not the prettiest face I’ve worn.”
“Why? You got a thing for brunets?”
“I have a thing for you,” Nines replies earnestly.
“Yes,” Nines whispers, urging Gavin to see beyond his placid expression and notice the emotions brewing beneath the surface. “Before... that was the first time I’ve seen you completely void of using your abilities.”
The silver mist reappears and Gavin ducks his head down at the same time to hide his smile. Nines can’t find it in himself to mind ‒ not when Gavin’s hair bleeds into a dusty pink to match his cheeks. “Shut up,” he whines, whacking Nines’ thigh lightly with his hand.
Not knowing how to tell his partner about the accidental secret he’d kept, Nines moves the palm of his hand up to show Gavin, well… him, seen through his eyes. The hazy glow surrounding him, shifting with every breath, every movement, and how it pulses, bright to less so, with every change in his features. Gavin reaches up with a finger to stroke over the lowest part of Nines’ palm and the touch sends a pleasant shiver down Nines’ spine; the way it always does when Gavin initiates contact. “This-” Gavin hesitates, swallows, and begins anew. “This is how you see me?”
A moment of silence.
“Can I see?” Gavin asks, taking a long moment to look over the livestream, and when he speaks next Nines’ chest aches upon hearing Gavin’s voice shaking. “I didn’t know- I’ve never…”
Nines waits but Gavin doesn’t elaborate. There’s no need for it, not really, he can hear the unspoken words clearly in the silence left behind and Nines gladly exchanges the live feed for a still picture. There are no protocols for this, no words Nines can say, so he settles for cuddling Gavin closer, bestowing kisses on his warm skin, until Gavin’s tense frame relaxes again. He turns away from the display on Nines’ hand and the android allows it to dissipate in order to put it to better use.
Gavin goes pliant after another dozen kisses, features shifting again, and Nines picks the book up again to continue reading ‒ gaze switching between the pages and the man he’s lucky enough to call his partner.
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ayo firstly, i love thyne work. Secondly, maybe one where the reader has such a good memory for our internet culture/pop culture so to keep the others entertained they recite memes, songs, movies, and even summarize shows that the others forgot/never got to see, and AM finds himself more interested and hateful to humanity when he realizes how weird and stupid we are? Idk i just really wanna see AM invested in a sci-fi show the reader retells.
((Thank you! Hope it's okay that the reader is not already in a relationship with AM in this one. Spoilers for various old movies.))
"What was that thing where--?" Gorrister pumped his arms in some imitation of a dance.
"Oh yeah!" Ellen laughed. "You couldn't go anywhere without hearing that!"
"I had that dance nailed down perfectly," Ted claimed. "Not that it was of any consequence, of course."
"That's what they used to call a humble-brag," you retorted, hiding a giggle at his boast.
"What were those things that someone used to say on the Internet and everyone would repeat them?"
"Those got annoying after a while." Gorrister prodded the fire as a log fell over.
"How do you still remember all these things?" Nimdok asked you.
You smiled and shrugged. "I think there was a part of me that wanted to save all the human culture I could in my mind, so if aliens abducted me or robots took over and destroyed everything...well I guess...I could tell them about the experience of being human."
Gorrister chuckled. "Robots taking over." He looked up at the banks and circuit boards and lights. "Crazy thought ain't it?"
A hush fell over the group as Ted eyed the nearest speaker with a deliberate stillness.
"Do you think he's listening?"
"Probably organizing his files," Nimdok suggested. "It is Monday."
Also the first Monday of the month," Gorrister reminded grimly. "I expect he'll be rolling out his new 'schedule' for us soon."
You bit your lip. You had a strange idea.
"Well, while we have a little longer," you distracted the group again, "who remembers 2001: A Space Odyssey?"
Delighted agreement came from your friends.
"I saw that at the theater!" Nimdok reminisced.
"Everyone loved that computer," Ellen added. "Hal, was it?"
"Yeah, the audience forgave him for screwing up." You stole glances at your surroundings but pretended to be focused on the fire. "We liked him even after he killed those people."
Benny, who had been dragging a pebble through the dirt, looked up in alarm. Ellen put a hand on his shoulder as the group stared at you, unsure. They then looked up tensely.
You swallowed. "You know that guy in those movies who created Hal? Dr. Chandra?" You spoke solemnly. "I kinda wish he was one of AM's creators. Because he...you know..."
Even though you had expected the loud voice from the speakers, it still startled you quite a bit. Despite your plan working, it mesmerized you that AM would have any interest at all in your conversations.
"Because, um, he cared about his creations." You swallowed hard, wondering how your captor would take it.
There was a long pause, and you thought you heard a low hum of contemplation.
"You understand," he spoke again, "that humans are not actually like that."
You did not feel that arguing would get you anywhere with him, so you just looked at the ground. Still, the fact that you got AM to talk candidly with you was an amazing sign.
"How did it end?" He asked to your surprise.
"I think, uh..." You looked questioningly at your silent, wide-eyed friends. The answer finally came to you. "Hal ends up fused with Dave on the moon?"
AM snorted. "Humans are weird."
"Actually, we had something called that!" You perked up. "Those threads on Tumblr about what aliens would think about human behaviors that we find normal."
When he made an indecipherable sound, you explained. "Humans have quite the egos, you know. We like to know what other creatures think of us...even if it's not good."
He scoffed heartily. "Well, maybe you'll earn an iota less of hate if you share a few more of these tidbits."
"Tell him about the movie Tau!" Ellen spoke up, and the others cautiously joined in.
"Terminator! Maybe not."
"Pokemon: The First Movie!"
The afternoon was spent in the most lively discussion you'd had in many years. You would not have guessed AM to be the curious type, but yet--
"What's a tauntaun? What was Mewtwo going off to find really? Are any of you scared of Slenderman? Why does Tau ask so many questions?"
At different points he would claim boredom and declare human culture meaningless, only to return to the conversation with more questions.
"What is a starchild?" The computer asked instead of crushing you under a boulder.
"So who was phone?" He queried Nimdok rather than give him frostbite.
That evening a robot army marched after Ellen, but merely to collect information on Data.
And Gorrister found himself in front of a red light, outside a pod bay door.
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100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 100
I love you (Ladrien, Ladynoir, Marichat, Adrinette)
Tap tap. Tap tap.
Adrien sat up quickly, scanning the room for the source of the noise.
Tap tap. It came again, more insistently. Plagg barely stirred from where he lay on the bedside table, and the sight only slightly calmed Adrien’s nerves. If his kwami wasn’t worried, then it was probably nothing.
For a long moment, he barely moved, straining his ears to listen for the sound, but whatever it was had stopped after two attempts, and his room was plunged into silence once more.
With a sigh, he lay back down—not that he’d be able to sleep, after what had happened that day—when he heard a muffled voice call his name.
“Adrien? Adrien are you awake?”
“Plagg, did you hear that?”
The kwami only grumbled, rolling over in his sleep and idly, Adrien rethought his stance on the creature being able to sense danger.
Squinting in the darkness, he rose from bed just as the moon broke through the clouds, illuminating his room, and showing Ladybug perched on his window.
Was he dreaming? Had he fallen asleep without realising? But no—as he watched, Ladybug caught his eye and raised a hand, waving awkwardly at him through the glass.
“Sh-oh shit !” He swore, scrambling to open the window, letting in a cold gust of air. “Ladybug, what—what are you doing here?”
She shrugged noncommittally,“I just thought I’d check in on you….after today.” At his wince, she smiled sympathetically before shivering, and peering past him into his room. “Can I come in for a second? It’s absolutely freezing out here. This suit isn’t the best for keeping me warm, you know.”
He did know. Ladybug often complained bitterly about her suit lacking any thermal properties whatsoever. The topic came up regularly in the winter, and he’d begun to stash away jackets along their patrol route for her to use.
But of course Adrien didn’t know that. Chat Noir did.
“Yeah! Yeah, uh,” he shook his head, stepping back to let her in “yeah of course you can, here—” Leading her over to the sofa, the two of them sat facing each other in the dark.
Ladybug was the one to break the silence. “So…” She began “I’m really sorry I took so long to get you after you jumped, but the akuma—”
“Ladybug,” he interrupted her, “it’s fine. Honestly.”
“Are you sure?” her blue eyes were wide, and troubled behind her mask.
“Well, no harm no foul, right?” Adrien shrugged, laughing quietly when Ladybug made a small noise in the back of her throat. “Seriously though, you saved me, so...thank you.”
“I almost didn’t,” she muttered darkly, and shifting a little, Adrien sat on his hand, resisting the urge to smooth away the furrow that had formed between her brows.
“But you did,” he countered her. “There’s no point thinking about what could have happened.”
Truthfully, any terror he’d felt as he’d hurtled to the ground had disappeared the moment Ladybug’s arm had slid around his waist, holding onto him and slowing their momentum as she’d lowered them both to safety.
He’d barely noticed the cameras flashing, or Gorizillas’s bellowing from above, the ground beneath them shaking from the force of his movements. More than anything, he’d been mesmerised—by the determined set of her mouth, by the worry he'd seen in her eyes, the slight blush he’d noticed dusting her cheeks at their close proximity.
He was fairly sure his own face had been just as flushed, though that could be blamed on the exertion instead.
In that moment, as they'd landed safely on the ground, everything around him had faded into the background, all of his awareness narrowing down, hyper focusing on the places where they touched, chest to chest. It had taken all of his self control not to blurt out I love you , right there and then and the only other thing that had stopped him was Ladybug running off to fight the akuma.
“You’re right,” Ladybug sighed, breaking him from his thoughts. She smiled ruefully at him. “Everything worked out in the end.”
Rising to her feet, she unclipped her yo-yo, heading back to the window. Standing tall, with the moonlight bathing her in it’s silver glow, she looked almost otherworldly. “I’d better let you get to sleep.” Opening the window, she glanced back at him one last time. “Adrien…” she hesitated, "it means a lot to me—that you trusted me today."
"Of course—” before he could continue, she was gone, and his next words drifted away on the wind, carried far from her ears. “I love you.”
Years passed. Feelings waxed and waned, hearts broke and then knitted back together again.
And Ladybug cursed herself, hating herself for turning Chat Noir down so long ago, and so thoroughly that he had never broached the subject again, moving on from her and leaving her to be the one to pine after him.
She could appreciate the irony, at least.
The feelings hadn’t hit her all at once. Not like they had with Adrien. In fact, she hadn’t even realised when it happened. Chat had crept into her heart without warning, making a space for himself there until, barely making his presence known until she’d woken one day with his name on her lips and the sinking feeling that she was too late.
“Chat!” She screamed, his name tearing from her throat as the akuma found it’s mark—blasting him in the chest and launching him halfway across the square where he hit the wall with a deafening crack.
The rest of the fight was a blur until the cure was cast, and Ladybug barely spared the disoriented akuma victim a glance, sprinting over to her partner, almost bowling him over with the force of her embrace.
“Woah-hey!” Chat laughed, his arms coming around her, holding her steady. Breathing in deeply, Ladybug let her tightly coiled muscles relax, her frantic heartbeat steadying the longer she was in his embrace, feeling him—solid and breathing— underneath her arms.
Pulling back, she levelled him with a glare, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the tears in her eyes. Blinking them away impatiently, she poked him in the chest. Hard.
“Don’t do that again, you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am!” Chat smirked at her and she scowled.
“I mean it!” Her voice was high, panicked. Chat softened, cupping her face in his palm, unaware of the effect his touch had on her, her heart stuttering in her chest, the urge to grab hold of his wrist, to keep his hand in place overwhelming.
“I won’t do it again, my lady,” Chat promised, his green eyes serious, locked on hers.
“I wish I could believe that,” she grumbled, finally stepping out of his arms before she did something stupid—like kiss him.
Opening his mouth, Chat paused, spotting something over her shoulder. Moving around her, he went to help the akuma victim—who had begun to look a little worse for wear— and she watched as he helped the man over to a bench, talking quietly to him as he did.
Affection bloomed in her chest at the sight. “I love you,” she said quietly, testing the words out loud, feeling how easily they rolled off her tongue. “I love you, Chaton.”
Chat turned. “Did you say something?”
“No,” she smiled, shaking her head. Maybe one day she’d have the courage to tell him to his face, but today was not that day.
“I didn't say anything.”
Marinette was amazing.
She was talented, and beautiful, and kind, and funny and so many other things.
Objectively, Chat had always known that, but it was only recently, as their friendship had blossomed—both inside and out of the mask—that he’d found himself noticing it more and more.
Especially with their new tradition of a movie night every Friday. It had begun when Marinette had moved out, and he had simply stopped by when she flagged him down from her window, but it had quickly evolved into something that he looked forward to every week.
The two of them would bring all her bedding into the living room after dinner, setting up a large fort for them to watch the movies in, staying up until the early hours of the morning or until they fell asleep, snuggled up together, their limbs entwined.
Their dynamic felt so natural to him. It was so easy to be around her, and it scared him sometimes, how much he ached to touch her, to take her hand and kiss her and confess how she drove him to distraction every time she was near. He had yet to find the right words to express himself though, and so found himself resorting to other, less overt methods to show his appreciation.
“Sit down,” Chat insisted, taking the dishes from Marinette’s hands “you did all this food, the least I can do is put the plates away.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “ Guests don’t do the dishes though,” she whined “stop trying to make me a bad host!”
“Maybe guests don’t,” Chat conceded “but friends do. So suck it up.”
“Fine!” She threw her hands up in defeat, fixing him with a truly impressive scowl. “But I’m gonna start on the fort without you then.”
“Go ahead,” he chuckled, making his way to the kitchen. “Bring those fluffy pillows as well—they were really nice last week!”
The fort was fully constructed by the time Chat returned. He supposed all those weeks of building it had finally paid off, but as he crawled through the entrance, he paused, taking in the sight.
Marinette had curled up around one of the pillows, fast asleep. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. Exam week took it’s toll on them all, and she had coursework deadlines as well which he’d spent many a night watching her freak out over.
Carefully, so as not to wake her up, Chat took the blanket, and tucked it around her shoulders, observing for a moment the slow rise and fall of her chest, her face relaxed in slumber.
Impulsively, he swept back the hair that had fallen in front of her face, and pressed a kiss to her brow. “I love you, princess,” he murmured, stroking her cheek softly before letting himself out.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Marinette blinked, looking up at Adrien. “Uh…” He regarded her with amusement, his hands shoved deep in his pocket, and once again, she found herself wondering how on earth she’d been so blind .
It was almost laughably obvious that Chat Noir—her partner —was Adrien Agreste, and yet she’d still been blindsided by the discovery. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste—the things that she loved about them individually were all facets of the same person. It was dizzying to think about.
They’d taken a few days after revealing their identities to come to terms with it, but truthfully, it had only taken her a few hours. The rest of the time she’d spent fretting over how she’d ever manage to be composed in front of him.
“Well?” Adrien prompted, nudging her playfully. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “No, sorry.”
How could she concentrate when all she could focus on was their close proximity as they walked through the park, their hands so close they brushed together with every step; so close she could reach out and entwine their fingers if she wanted to. And she did want to.
Adrien grimaced. “It’s still weird, isn’t it?” His shoulders hunched slightly, and he looked suddenly insecure. The sight made her heart clench in her chest. “Look, if you need more time—”
“I love you!” Marinette blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth as he made a choked sound in the back of his throat, staring at her with wide eyes.
Grabbing hold of her hands, Adrien tugged her forwards, his fingers gripping hers tightly. His voice was low, and urgent, his eyes searching hers and she saw the hope in them, felt a blossom of hope bloom in her own heart as well.
Licking her lips, she repeated herself. “I love you. First as Adrien, and then as Chat, and now you’re both the same person ,” she stumbled over her words, struggling to articulate her thoughts. “And yeah, it’s a little overwhelming, but I had to say it, I had to let you know because—”
She broke off with a gasp as Adrien swept her up in his arms, spinning her around before setting her down on her feet. “You mean it?” he breathed.
Wordlessly, she nodded, her cheeks flushing at the ardour she saw in his eyes, the sheer happiness. Pulling her in for a kiss, Marinette clutched at his shoulders as his lips moved softly, tentatively against hers, and all she could think was finally.
Their kiss seemed to last forever, and not long enough, Marinette’s insides lifting and fluttering, her mind hazy, body burning from his touch, craving more, more more .
Adrien leaned in close, his breath ghosting over her skin, tickling the shell of her ear, making her heart soar in her chest in response to his whispered words.
Drawing back slightly, he lifted her up once more, laughing as she shrieked, arms circling around his neck and holding on tight, his words echoing in her ears, the most beautiful refrain she’d ever heard.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
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Pairing: Kars x Reader
Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.
Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.
P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha
"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.
Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.
When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.
It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.
He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.
Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.
Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.
The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.
Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.
Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?
He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.
Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.
What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.
"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."
Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.
You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.
The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.
Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.
The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.
When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.
"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."
Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.
"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."
You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.
And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.
As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.
Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.
"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."
You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.
"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.
Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.
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a letter to my lover | zhong chenle
♡ dear y/n, i’m writing you this letter in the hopes that it gets to you well. our relationship has been tumultuous, that’s for sure, and i thought it was high time i wrote you a letter detailing all the times you said "i love you" that are important to me.
genre: chenle x reader, angst, fluff, supernatural!chenle, vampire!chenle
warnings: violence, blood/gore, death (of animals), guns, general vampirism
word count: 4.1K
tagging: the lovely @roses-of-the-moon ♡ @mora134340 @ncteology + @nct-writers
The first time you said “I love you”, I thought I was going to have to kill you.
That night we first met, I was not in a good state. My family had recently been forced to move from the commune we had called home for twenty years by your kind, and we were essentially on the run in search of a new, friendlier place to stay. Because we were vampires, my family could only travel efficiently during the night and so we were tired and very, very hungry. My mother, older brother, and I had managed to find a dingy little abandoned warehouse to stay in and we’d been taking turns to go out and feed on the wildlife near our new home. When I met you, I was scouring the forest for something to eat. A deer, a rabbit, a fox - I would eat literally anything at this point. Shit, even a frog would have been enough to sustain me until my family joined the vampire commune rumoured to be near your city.
Running almost blindly through the forest due to the large trees blocking out any moonlight, I had picked up the scent of what I assumed to be a wild deer and was doing my best to catch up to it while working on extremely low levels of energy. As a half-vampire, my senses were not as strong as a pure vampire even when they were functioning at normal capacity, let alone when I had been starving for days. I’d never ever been this hungry before in my whole life - I could feel my vision clouding and the bloodlust taking over my mind, pure adrenaline and craving coursing through my veins.
After a few moments the deer was within my sights and a couple of seconds later I was close enough to pounce on top of it and send us both rolling through the damp forest floor. The poor creature had no idea what was happening - one second it was standing peacefully alone and the next it was being chased by an inhuman creature, unaware of what its fate would be. Trust me, I did feel guilty killing the poor thing, as I’d only ever fed off of willing mortals at the old commune. But as my fangs sunk into the deer’s neck and its hot blood flowed into my mouth, down my throat, and to every fibre of my being, remorse was the last thing I was feeling.
I remember the sensation of the deer’s blood invading my body and causing my muscles to strain and stretch, my vision to unblur, my ears and nose to pick up sensations I hadn’t noticed before, and my mind to clear. The starvation I suffered before was horrendous, but the absolute feeling of pure clarity when I was finally able to feed made it all worth it. I wiped my mouth of the animal blood dripping from my lips and that was the moment I detected you. My newly heightened senses alerted me to your presence behind me, and as I slowly turned around on my heel I was preparing myself for my second kill of the evening.
I expected a human, of course, but I was imagining an older male with a gun and a desperation to end my life, not, well...you. I remember making eye contact with you and being stunned frozen by the fact I saw no callousness in them, only fear and surprise. The way your eyes darted from my own, to the deer carcass, and then back to my bloodied mouth let me know that you’d most likely just witnessed me feeding from the animal, and I couldn’t have that, now could I?
However, I didn’t kill you that night. I definitely should have, if I were abiding by the rules of vampirism that state all witnesses to the supernatural should be exterminated, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Yes, humans were the reason my family had to leave our house in the middle of the night and yes, your kind were the reason we had to watch our friends be shot as we fled, but I really did not want to give into the violence. I was, technically, similar to you due to my father being a human. I couldn’t kill someone who shared the same blood as me. Plus, what would I gain by killing you, too? It wouldn’t bring my friends back. My family and I would be on the move to the new commune soon anyway, so I’d probably never see you again and I could sprint away from here and not worry about you.
I turned to leave, to flee off into the darkness, when you spoke again. You called for me to stay, and when I did you explained you weren’t afraid of me and simply wanted to talk. You said you were a part of the occult community - I had never heard that word before - you told me it meant you believed in the supernatural. I was shocked, I wasn’t aware there was a whole community of people who knew about us. Obviously, humans had to know about my kind as they were the ones who committed the massacre on us, and also my father had to have known about us because he, you know, married and had kids with one. I just did not realise knowledge about vampires was so widespread.
You suddenly blurted out “I love you, I love your kind, and I don’t think we should be afraid of each other.” Through your secret occult community you had heard about the massacre at my commune and that was the reason you were in the forest that night - you were risking your life to try to help my kind start a better life.
You offered for me to stay in a little office you had out the back of your family home which was on the edge of the forest, and I found the offer too irresistible to deny. Good thing I decided not to kill you, because you turned out to be the best thing that happened to me.
The second time you said “I love you”, I had just saved your life.
Honestly, Y/N, my mother and my brother were unhappy to hear that I’d wandered so far from the warehouse that I’d run into a human, but like me they could not bring themselves to turn down your offer. That night, I’d taken you back to the warehouse, explained the situation to my family, and then we’d headed through the forest back to your place. Your parents were sleeping, obviously, and you’d hurried us into the office space, given us an old mattress from your garage, blankets, a water cooler, and wished us a goodnight.
I remember I didn’t get any sleep then, neither did my mother or brother, and we’d all huddled together waiting for the makeshift office to go up in flames or for you to burst in with a group of other humans to finally get rid of us. That didn’t happen.
We soon fell into a routine where we would sleep for most of the day while you managed to keep your parents from entering the old office space for months. You provided us with fresh water for the cooler and anything else we requested to keep us entertained. During the night, my family and I would explore the forest in order to feed on the wildlife and keep our fitness up.
You started to visit me most nights when you weren’t busy in order to help me research where this new vampire community was located. My mother and brother still hadn’t really warmed to you all that much, but I don’t think you minded. You seemed to be much more comfortable when it was just us two, hunched over scriptures you’d ‘borrowed’ from your occult group.
We spent so much time with each other that we actually became friends. Y/N, at the time that was such a strange concept for me. My whole life I’d been taught that humans were my enemy, despite being half human myself. They had only caused vampires death and lifelong pain, and so you were not to be trusted. But you were different. The humans we should be afraid of were the ones who did not understand us, who were not educated about us and who would kill us the first chance they got. We weren’t told about the humans like you - the ones that were fascinated by us and who were empathetic towards our situation.
You spent many nights with me in my makeshift home in your backyard, telling me about your interest in everything supernatural. We discussed human and supernatural relations, and how we believed peace between our kind was possible and desired. You also told me about your life, and listened patiently as I heartbreakingly explained how we’d lost my father due to old age a few years ago, as he was only human and we would long outlive him.
Never once did I feel like I was oversharing or should not have told you something. I never doubted your intentions to help us, and I felt like I could finally ignore my fear of an early death by humans when you were around. You made me feel safe, and it wouldn’t be long before I returned the favour.
About three months after you had taken my family in, rumours started spreading that you were harbouring dangerous individuals in your back garden. My brother had been caught sneaking back into your property one evening after both him and I had finished a hunt. I wanted to spend longer outside so, in an almost blood-drunk state, he went back home while I stayed in the forest. This absolute fool had decided it was safe enough to enter through the driveway, meaning he had walked in off of the street and alerted your neighbours to his presence when he accidentally tripped over the garden hose and went toppling into your rubbish bin. He had then been observed unlocking the office out the back, and your neighbours assumed he was a homeless man breaking into your property. I was far enough away that I hadn’t heard all the noise my older brother had made but the yells and succeeding gunfire caught my attention.
The scene that greeted me when I finally arrived back at your place, Y/N, was horrible. You were cornered in the back of your garden, trying your best to shield both my mother and brother from the crowd of mortals that had formed and were blocking the exit of the property. I vaulted myself over your back fence and joined you and my family, and you quickly explained the situation to me. My brother had caused the neighbours to believe he was a homeless trespasser, and when they’d confronted you guys about it they had realised he and my mother were not human. Then they’d pulled out their guns and started threatening both my family and you.
When I’d arrived your parents were yelling at you to hand my family over in exchange for your life, while the neighbours pointed handguns in your direction, but when they noticed me, all hell broke loose. I was barely at your side when someone fired the first shot my way, thankfully missing me, but resulting in everyone letting a barrage of gunfire fly our way.
My brother pulled my mother to the side of the office and I dived towards you, knowing my half-vampire skin would make a better bullet-proof shield than yours would, but I didn’t quite make it in time. I watched as the bullet entered your abdomen and you fell to the ground, curled over in pain. I yelled at my mother and brother to jump over the fence and somehow managed to scoop you up from the ground and launch you over the back end of your property, and followed quickly behind.
The mob of neighbours tried to follow us, but by the time they hefted their asses over the fence, I’d pulled you into my arms and we’d already taken off into the forest. You were fading in and out of consciousness and losing a lot of blood - so much so that it was incredibly tough for me to smell your blood and restrain myself from feeding off of you then and there.
Through the research we’d done together, we’d worked out the nearest vampire community was not actually in your town but in another over, so that’s where my family and I planned to take you. Usually we would need a permit to enter the compound but were figured turning up there and asking them to save you was a risk we were willing to take.
After around an hour of non-stop running, we finally stopped for a rest in a clearing and I was able to check your wounds. My mother and brother stood far away so as to not catch a whiff of the smell of your blood, and I pulled my shirt over my nose while I examined you. Your wound was bad, but because the bullet was still lodged in your stomach it was stopping a lot more blood loss. As I had you laid out in my lap, you smirked up at me and said, “I told you I loved you. Enough to try to save your family, at least.” I smiled back at you and replied, “and I love you for that, too.”
Little did I know how deep our love for each other actually ran.
The third time you said “I love you”, you were giving up your life.
Your mortal life, that is. My family arrived at the new vampire commune, aptly called Scarlet Watch, early the next morning. By this time your condition had only worsened, your skin was cool and your face was so pale you rivaled that of a snowman. We had to beg to be let in, as we were initially turned away because we did not have the necessary papers and we were carrying you, a human on the verge of death.
My family and I caused such a commotion that the guards of Scarlet Watch called in their governor who decided to let us through - on the condition that you would be turned into a vampire in order to save your life. You were so out of it by this stage that asking you for your permission was impossible, and my family let me make the final decision, claiming I was the closest to you and would know what your wishes would be.
When deciding your fate, Y/N, I was so selfish. For me, the question wasn’t “would Y/N want to be a vampire”, it was “do I think I want to live without Y/N?” My answer was no. Not only had you risked your life to hide us in your spare room on your property and help us research Scarlet Watch, you’d also risked your life a second time when you tried your best to protect my family the night prior. Furthermore, you were the only human I’d met, besides my father, who did not want to harm me and who even took the time to get to know me. There was no way I could just let you die.
When I told the governor my decision on your behalf, there was no hesitation in whisking you off to another building in order to undergo the transformation process. My mother, brother, and I rushed after you, and we found ourselves in a kind of medical building. They laid you on a cold, metal operating table and it was like the iciness of it finally shocked you back into consciousness because your eyes instantaneously flew open and you looked around in a panic.
I managed to force my way into the room and held your hand in my own, and you seemed to calm down slightly. I explained that they were going to make you a vampire, like me, and that this was the only way to save your life because you’d lost so much blood. You agreed, and I could feel you were fading again so I told you I loved you. I don’t know why I said it, but deep down I knew it was true. You smiled, said you loved me back, and then I was pulled back out of the room and you were left to your fate.
The last time you say “I love you” will be as you watch the light fade from my eyes.
The day we arrived at Scarlet Watch was the longest day of my life. I’d never witnessed a human be transformed into a vampire, and was told that I had to just sit and wait until it was safe to visit you. Y/N, I was so scared for you. I tried to consume some bagged blood the Scarlet Watch officials provided us, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than you. While my brother caught up on some much needed rest, I sat in the room they’d lent us, wringing my hands with worry. Even my mother became concerned for me, and commented she’d never seen me in this state before. God, how awkward is it to explain to your mother you think you’re actually in love with someone? A human turned vampire, no less?
I really couldn’t properly articulate how I felt for you in that moment, because I didn’t fully understand it myself. It was like after you were shot, I was faced with your mortality and I finally realised just how important you were to me. You were unlike any other human I’d met before - there was something so precious about you that I just wanted to treasure forever. Turns out my mother understood how I felt about you, and, considering she had married and had a child with a human to produce me, she was fully supportive of my feelings. It’s not like I needed her blessing to feel the way I felt about you, but it definitely did solidify everything for me.
A few days after your transformation, I was finally able to see you again. I had been told to stay away for awhile because newly turned vampires are notoriously violent and bloodthirsty, going after anything that looks like it moves. When I saw you again, you had just woken from a long nap and I had no reservations about running over and wrapping you in my arms. I couldn’t stop myself from cupping your face in my hands and giving you a massive kiss on the forehead, and then pulling you back into me again. You just laughed, clearly a little surprised by my actions but quickly returned my affection.
I noticed the similarities between us - your skin had a sort of unnatural glow to it, your reflexes were a lot faster, and your eyes, although they’d lost their shine, were wide and alert. However, unlike me, you were considered a full vampire because you’d been turned by another of our kind. You were not ‘pure’, a pure vampire is one who is born to two full vampires, but you were technically more supernatural than I, a half vampire, was.
I didn’t tell you how I felt about you for a while afterwards. I knew that your main priority was adjusting to the new life we had here, in Scarlet Watch. This was our new home, after all. I took care of you as you were recovering from the transformation, and we moved into our own unit together while my mother and brother shared the one next to us. I taught you how to hunt, how to feed, how to regulate your heartbeat and breathing - all the basic stuff I’d known about since I was a baby, but I didn’t mind because it meant I got to spend more time in your company.
It was only when you’d almost fully adjusted to your new life that I decided to tell you I loved you, for real. We had finished work for the day - I worked as a casual laborer around Scarlet Watch and you worked in the records department of the council - and we were sitting in our shared living room discussing what came next for us. Was Scarlet Watch where we wanted to live? Is this what we wanted to do for the rest of our (un)natural lives? Did we want to stick together, or get separate apartments?
I decided to simply bite the metaphorical bullet and tell you that I wanted to be with you, in a relationship. I could tell by your stunned silence that you certainly weren’t expecting me to say that, but I did. Judging by your lack of words, I was so sure that you were going to friendzone me, Y/N, that it was my turn to be surprised when you told me that was what you wanted, too. You said us being together made so much sense, especially since we both felt so strongly for each other, and that was that.
My mother was not surprised when, two years later, I told her you and I were getting married. You know my mother, Y/N - she claims she knew we would be together the moment I confessed how I felt about you to her for the first time - but nonetheless she was very happy for us (and even happier to throw herself into wedding planning mode). The day we were married, Y/N, was the happiest day in my life. It was a stark contrast to the day you almost died, which was by far the longest and scariest day of my life.
We were finally going to be together, not that we needed a piece of paper to tell us that, and it was almost overwhelming the amount of love and support that surrounded us on that day. I remember trying my hardest not to cry - since we physically can’t, I would have just been standing there looking like I was constipated, so I am glad that I didn’t. I don’t want to say that it was you being a vampire that took my breath away when I first saw you on our wedding day, because I am sure if you were still human you would have looked just as ethereal, but there really was something about you that day that stood out to me as magical. It was almost as if you were born to be a vampire with me.
I decided to write this letter to reflect on all the memorable times you said “I love you”. Our relationship was definitely a surprise - who would have guessed that day in the forest that we would end up being married - but I don’t regret anything about it. Last night, you brought up the topic of having children together. While I would love to have children with you, it did make me think long and hard about the idea of bringing a new life into the world - but also the inevitability of death.
Our conversation made me realise that while there have been many times we’ve told each other we love one another, the last time we will say it will be when I am dying. Because you are a full vampire, and I am only a half vampire, you are almost guaranteed to outlive me by at least twenty years.
I am not sure if you’ve realised this yet, but I cannot bring myself to breach the subject of my death with you, which is why I decided to write this letter instead. I am trying to forget about this dire fact, but in all truthfulness it is a certainty that I think about every day. What will happen to you after I die? Will you be okay? Will you remarry? Will you and our children decide to move from Scarlet Watch?
One thing I can say, though, is that I don’t envy you. I can’t imagine a world where I have to keep existing long after you have gone. If an early death means I never have to see you die, then I would take that over anything else. Luckily, we still have a lot more decades to live through before I inevitably pass before you, but like I said, I can’t stop thinking about the pain my death will cause you.
For now, though, the only sensible option is to enjoy the time that we do have together, and worry about all the little details later. So, shall we get to work making babies, baby?
From your loving husband,
© 0606-hyuck 2021. All Rights Reserved.
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moontide // spencer reid - chapter 21
summary: after joining the BAU, Y/N must navigate the complicated feelings she's developing for her difficult co-worker, Spencer Reid.
word count: 6.1k
the first thing I do when I get home is uncork a bottle of wine. even after falling asleep on the jet, my mind is far too awake to even consider sleeping. my head swims.
a brown sugar candle from Regina sits abandoned on top of one of my cardboard boxes. I don't know if she forgot it here or left it as a gift, but I just noticed it now. it's not her usual kind of product-- she's a fiend for essential oils and anything that soft science says helps with stress. but she knows how much I enjoy warm smells, and so this feels intentional.
I go into my bedside drawer and grab my lighter, flicking the delicate flame over the wick and watching as it engulfs the string.
the last time I cried was the time I fought with Spencer. Spencer, with his angry expressions and repressed trauma. Spencer, who seems to have given up on himself.
I don't cry now because I feel hollowed out inside. the kind of hurt that doesn't require tears at all. like a dull ache in my chest as memories of how things used to be fill my head. the way his eyes seemed to swallow up the moon when we swam in the lake, his body imposing upon mine.
thoughts of what he said to me, about not seeing my parents as who they are. who is he to say that? I didn't try to incarcerate my dad, at least. didn't assume he would be capable of murdering a kid.
I thought he loved me because I loved him and because he was tender. and now I feel absolutely stupid for it; loving someone doesn't mean they love you. he never even said he felt that way, not even when he was wrapped up in pleasure. so how could I mistake it so easily?
Regina is wrong about many things, but I think she was especially wrong about me being vindictive. I'm the opposite of vindictive. I fell in love with someone too preoccupied to even consider me.
that's what they never tell you about being an adult: sometimes it's not about someone doing something wrong or trying to inflict pain. sometimes there's just not room for love. and that makes me wish he had done something genuinely unforgivable.
my sister was right about one thing, though, and it's that I need to get my shit together. I've been in this apartment for months and haven't unpacked all my things. admittedly, it felt wrong putting down roots in this place that wasn't home. home wasn't here and it wasn't in the house. home started to be Spencer's apartment, and now I've been shut out of there, too.
I take a sip of my wine and set it down on the coffee table while I take in the work that this is going to require. I definitely won't be getting any sleep between now and tomorrow morning, but it's not like I'd be resting anyway. aside from my short doze on the jet, there's been about eight hours of shut-eye between now and the incident.
so the task begins.
prying open the taped top of the first cardboard box, I find stacks of old magazines and some rose quartz bookends. they stare up at me expectantly, waiting for me to take the first step. and there's plenty of room in the apartment for them. there's even a bookshelf set into the wall that's perfect for display.
between the open bottle of wine, some lo-fi music, and the anxiety that has always propelled me forward, all other thoughts about Spencer are forced out of my head.
instead, I wonder about Baltimore and how my mother is doing, if my dad really is going to keep trying. no matter what he does, we'll never have a truly perfect connection. his personality creates inequality in all his relationships-- and I'll never accept that.
it always feels like I'm fighting against something with my family, some kind of unending tide that threatens to wrap around my ankles and sweep me out into obsolescence. I'm so tired of trying to break away from them. so tired of always separating myself. because if I don't, I worry that I'll become them.
what would have happened if I hadn't left Baltimore? if I had stayed a dancer and done nothing but that? so much of myself never would have seen the light of day. and, knowing that, I keep hoping for more. more of something within myself to be revealed.
I dove into things that pulled at threads but never unraveled them. maybe I need to unravel myself. part of that is unpacking this apartment and accepting that this is my space, now. not the empty, cavernous prison in Maryland and not Spencer's home that he shares with me.
what he said was uncalled for, spoken out of pain and frustration. maybe he didn't mean all of it, but some of it he did. and that's on him to handle-- not me. I'm here if he needs it, except it doesn't seem like he does. so I won't force myself into his life. even if it means I won't sleep, even if it means work wrenches everything from my guts.
part of unraveling myself means accepting that I'll always be a little bit Spencer's, too. friends or not.
the next week begins to lighten up. loads of paperwork keep us in DC, giving all of us the space to think. today, I decide to sneak into Penelope's computer lair and bother her.
"hey, magnificent creature!" she greets when I wander in. I set down a bag with a croissant from the café that I went to this morning. whenever I visit her here, I bring some sort of baked good, like a bribe for her discretion.
"what are you up to?" I ask. she pushes the empty swivel chair towards me and I take a seat, sipping from my to-go coffee cup. that's another rule of hers: drinks must be lidded.
"trying to find celebrity phone numbers." she shrugs. this piques my interest.
"got Ryan Reynolds', but I don't think Blake would be too happy with me."
I giggle. "have you tried Andy Samberg?"
we spend the next twenty minutes avoiding work and sleuthing the internet on her personal laptop for numbers that we'll never call but want to have just in case. my eyes keep slipping to the door to make sure Hotch doesn't catch us. he never even comes to check where I am. my mind is absolutely fried right now, so I wouldn't be getting any work done, anyway. only letting my gaze secretly find Spencer with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
he kept looking my way, too. neither of us is willing to break the silence that we've created, much less make up. I want to settle things once and for all-- call off any sort of non-professional ties and also yell at him for using such harsh words with me, but I can't bring myself to speak it into the universe. thoughts are fine; nobody knows about thoughts. speaking them, however...
"huh?" my eyes turn back to the screen.
"did you hear me?"
"someone's distracted. I was going to ask if you want to go out for drinks tonight."
"hm." I think to myself. aside from work, I have literally not left my apartment at all this week. "sure."
"it'll just be the girls, so I was thinking we head to this new place by my apartment. they have Ladies' Night on Fridays, so free drinks."
"you had me at 'just the girls'." I grin. she laughs and we turn back to her laptop.
I have learned that sometimes oxygen is a worthy sacrifice for looking good.
the dress is obsidian-dark, falling over my silhouette like water. when I examine myself in the mirror, a smile finds its way onto my face.
there's barely any time for me to fix my hair and makeup, but I do what I can and rush out the door, the whole time wondering what tonight will bring for me. hopefully some good, normal fun. after the week I've had, normal is the only thing I can take right now.
the subway car rattles beneath my feet as it makes its turns, past Spencer's stop, towards Penelope's. my hand is wrapped tightly around the handrail as I make a mental note to use hand sanitizer immediately after this. if anything disgusts me, it's public handrails.
the jacket I'm wearing keeps my figure concealed until I reach Pen's stop and make my way onto the street. we're beginning to slip into the cool air of winter. storefronts are already decorating for the holidays. Thanksgiving will arrive soon, and, soon after, the winter holidays.
everything moves so fast. to think that the world is unfolding every day a little more... that's terrifying.
"I'll be down in a second. JJ and I are finishing up a bottle of wine." Penelope tells me over the phone as I wait on the front stoop of her building. my feet are already killing me in these heels; I stand resolutely anyway. they give me a few inches of height, so my baby face isn't so damning.
truthfully, I just want to get drunk.
in answer to my prayers, the front door swings open and out marches Penelope Garcia.
"evening!" she wraps me in a hug, even though I saw her a few hours ago.
"hi, you." I pull away and hug JJ as well, who looks like some kind of beautiful nymph with her blonde hair pouring over her shoulders. "what did Will have to say about you going out tonight?"
"Will can handle it. I need a break." she raises her eyebrows with a laugh. I snort and we start walking. it's only two blocks, but it feels like longer in these shoes. we discuss work on the way, and I clam up when JJ asks about what happened in Nevada. apparently, all they heard back here was that he was having trouble dealing with his dad.
"I tried calling him earlier tonight, but he didn't pick up." JJ informs me.
"he's probably just feeling down and doing something he thinks is fun but is actually super nerdy." Penelope pipes up.
"like creating topographical maps." JJ suggests. we all laugh at this, knowing very well that he might actually enjoy that. each of us throws out inane suggestions of what interesting hobbies Spencer must have until we arrive at the club.
it's busy and loud, music issuing out into the street with a relentless bass. the line to get in is short, though, so we decide to try it. two young women in front of us huddle around a shared joint; they're college-age, not too much younger than I am.
the smell of weed in the air reminds me that I could smoke tonight if I want to. I shouldn't, but I can. if I really can't sleep. it's gotten to a point now where I've been relying on melatonin pills to get a good few hours. my job requires me to be fully charged, even when I'm not.
once the bouncer lets us into the place, Pen leads us straight to the bar. JJ and I hang back while she orders a round of vodka shots.
"we're really going all out tonight, aren't we?" I joke as she turns back to face us. some couples bump into my shoulder and I move out of the way, still surprised at the lack of self-awareness that people have.
"I heard you had a bad week!" our most brilliant tech princess yells over the music. I frown, debate with myself on how to proceed.
"can we drink and forget about it?"
"sure." JJ touches my shoulder reassuringly with that mom smile that seems somewhat ironic now that we're about to get wasted.
the shots come and we press ourselves up against the bar, which is cherry wood and dotted with splashes of alcohol left over.
"one... two... three!" Pen counts before we throw back the glasses and slam them on the surface. I wrinkle up my face at the harsh sensation in my throat, the burn. vodka is not my usual drink.
"that's disgusting." JJ cringes.
"literally." my agreement as Garcia orders another round for us. music thrums around us, something tech-infused and absolutely insufferable, and I start to steel myself for the drinking again.
like some sort of sinful machination, we continue to take down shots until our tongues grow numb. I don't feel nearly as drunk as I should, though my weight begins to feel more clunky.
I ignore the dull ache in my head as JJ pulls us onto the dance floor, buried in a mess of bodies. my spine feels like liquid as we twist and turn under the lights. they're blue and aquamarine, casting our skin in a strange green shade.
we sway our hips for what feels like hours and avoid eye contact with the men in the club, hoping for the alcohol to hit as soon as possible. my sternum vibrates with the bass.
as the songs change, the color begins to make me feel nauseous.
I haven't had this much hard liquor in so long, my body is alarmed. trying not to cause panic, I suppress the ill feeling until I can't anymore. I attempt to sneak away from our group and into the main area to catch my breath, but JJ's hand wraps around my wrist.
"what's wrong?" she asks with concern over the music. lights spill over the define planes of her face.
"I don't feel good." I shrug.
"I'll come with you. Pen!" she gets Penelope, who is now obviously making eyes at someone across the dance floor. she frowns briefly at the interruption, then follows us without protest as we move out of the crush of bodies.
the feeling only gets worse.
"I'm definitely gonna throw up." I say to myself more than anybody else.
"okay, come on, babe." JJ wraps her arm around my waist and takes us all to the bathroom. Penelope looks around in a panic and I realize that her first assumption is that someone drugged me. except there was absolutely no window of time between when we received and threw back the drinks. besides, we're women: we've gotten used to keeping vigilant eyes and hands over our glasses.
thankfully, the bathroom stalls are mostly empty. JJ holds my hair back and it's over faster than I could have imagined. my brain is throbbing inside my skull as I try to regain my breath and any of my dignity.
"you okay, my love?" Penelope asks through the stall door. I nod and JJ helps me up.
"I'm fine... I feel a lot better, actually." my voice comes out hoarse as I walk over to the sinks. Pen wets a paper towel and dabs at my face before handing me a water bottle. I gulp down the liquid.
"what happened?" JJ asks.
"no idea. I think I'm just not used to drinking this much anymore." I shrug.
"you're getting old, like us." Penelope smirks. I scowl and slug her in the arm.
"no!" it's true. I might be twenty-four, but time stops for no one. and it's not like I'm out partying every weekend.
"it's not a criticism." JJ gives Pen a look and grabs my hand. "let's get you cleaned up."
after about ten minutes of wiping under my eyes and brushing my teeth (Penelope's brand-new "Girl Emergency" package for one-night stands is now at the top of my Target list), the red in my face starts to disappear. some women come and go during the time, but nobody bothers us for hogging one of the sinks.
"I think I'm gonna go home, guys." I tell them.
"are you sure?" Garcia asks.
"yeah. I'm exhausted." my tone is defeated, beaten-down. and disappointed, too. the one night when I'm supposed to let loose, and I can't even keep the alcohol down. the idea of going back out there and enjoying myself, however, is completely out of the question.
"of course. let's go." JJ guides us out of the bathroom.
"what? no. you guys can stay. the station is less than a block from here; I'll be fine."
"Y/N," JJ suddenly turns to look at me. "you know what we do for a living. there is no way in hell I'm letting you go anywhere alone this time of night."
she's set on it, and she's probably right. while we head to the coat room to gather our things, I apologize for ruining their night with my surprise illness.
"it's totally okay," Penelope slides my jacket around my shoulders. "we can always go out another night."
we can't really, but I don't say anything more. I still feel the strange otherworldliness that comes with inebriation, though not as much. whatever's left of the alcohol will have to dissipate as the hours tick by.
I sit on the plastic seats of the train car and focus on the ads to settle myself within the motion. I'm disappointed and tired and I wish I could go out with my friends without something ruining it all the time.
I can't go home. I can't right now.
when we reach my stop, my two friends stand up, but I stop them.
"can we head somewhere else instead?" I ask. "it's only two more stops."
"sure. where?" JJ thinks over the subway map in her head.
"this is gonna sound weird, but I wanna go to the library."
"isn't it closed?" Pen checks her watch. normally, it would be way past closing time.
"maybe, but I think I know how to get in."
walking up to the entrance of the library, I notice that it's fully lit inside. they haven't changed things, I guess. pulling out my wallet, I pry the old plastic card out of one of the pockets.
"is that your student ID?" JJ looks over my shoulder.
"yeah. I'm hoping they haven't canceled it yet. this place is open until one a.m. for students and professors." moment of truth. I slide the card through the reader and grin when a satisfying click signifies the unlatching of a lock.
I turn to my friends. "thanks for coming with me, but I can handle it from here. they have a driving service for after closing time."
Penelope looks hesitant and so does JJ.
"really, it's okay. I've done this before." I add.
"text me when you're leaving, text me when you get in the car, text me when you get home." JJ instructs seriously.
"same. and share your location with me. double verification." Penelope pulls me in for a goodbye hug, which makes me smile a little with relief. sometimes it's nice to know that one of my friends is a literal computer genius who could find me in case of an emergency.
"alright. thanks. I love you guys." I walk through the door, waving goodbye before entering the strangely thick quietude of the library. the security guard at the desk glances up at me before returning to his book, leaving me to go up the grand staircase. he doesn't even double take at my party attire or the click of my heels echoing over marble.
already, I feel better. there's something about large, lively crowds that puts me on edge, but this is perfect. full silence, languid and slow. the wood railing slides smoothly beneath my fingertips as I make my way to the upper levels.
I'm not sure what I want to read today, maybe fiction to distract myself. there are a few things I've been meaning to read, long pieces that would be easy to find. Agatha Christie, someone I used to read as a little girl but lost touch with as time slithered by.
my feet carry me easily to the A-C aisle, and I begin to search for anything written by her. women writers always made me feel more comfortable, better understood.
there it is: And Then There Were None. I scoop it out of the shelf and examine the cracked spine, taped over in an attempt to prolong her life. my fingers wrap around the copy and hold it to my chest as I walk through the aisles to the seating area, which is really just a space between two book cases where they've set up armchairs and a love seat.
this time, I pick the love seat. I take up all the space, stretch myself over cushions and silently wish that I had changed into something more comfortable before coming here. this dress seriously squeezes at my ribcage.
thankfully, I at least brought new shoes. it's a handy little trick I learned in college: any time I go anywhere in heels, I bring my Converse, too. shoved into a plastic bag inside my purse with a pair of fuzzy socks.
it'll be an odd sight, a skintight dress paired with black high-tops, but there's no one to impress and I'm in an ungodly amount of pain. so I switch them out, curling up on the couch with my book and opening to the first page.
everything is fine. everything is normal and I feel okay. being by myself in the library is natural. so why am I so on-edge?
he slips by the aisle so quickly, I almost don't look up. my heart rate picks up the slightest tick; I know what I saw. there's a brief moment of hesitation where I sit stock-still, swallowing hard. did he see me? I doubt he saw me.
Spencer barely has his head grounded even when it's daytime hours.
finally, I decide to investigate. the cushions squeak loudly as I raise myself up and creep to the edge of the bookcase. peering around the corner, there's nobody. so I head out, slowly, checking each aisle before walking in front of it. it appears more that I'm running from a serial killer, even though I'm only checking to see if my eyes deceived me.
it honestly wouldn't surprise me if I started seeing things. I'm exhausted and pumped up on coffee and the lingering effects of alcohol.
when I reach the American history section, halfway across the enormous library floor, my eyes land on him. unmistakably Spencer, with his elegant neck bent over a paperback. he's got on another one of his cardigans, with his tie halfway undone and his hair in wild curls, unbothered.
he doesn't catch sight of me or hear me, probably because I've been holding my breath for the last thirty seconds. thank god. I turn on my heel to leave, to find a new place to sit in the library that he will never wander into.
of course, my Converse betray me, catching on the leg of the coffee table right by my leg, and making a loud thudding noise as I trip.
fucking hell. why am I like this?
thankfully, I don't fall. that said, the sound causes Reid's head to shoot up from his book to see me righting myself a few feet away. there's no way I can pretend I didn't see him now. no way.
"Y/N?" he asks in a normal volume. my face takes on a red tinge as I wince.
"oh. hi, Spencer." there's something of a forced smile on my face.
"what are you--?" he starts, but I interrupt by pressing an index finger to my lips. we're still in a library and I don't want to disturb anyone. "what are you doing here?" he whispers. he sounds awestruck, as though he couldn't ever imagine me going to a library.
"me? I have a student ID. what the hell are you doing here?" I shoot back. he closes the book, tucking it under his arm, and starts to walk towards me. I don't move a muscle.
"I lecture at Georgetown every few months." he fishes around in his pocket for a professor ID. of course he does.
"oh." is my stupid reply. what else is there to say? goodbye? it's not like this is an easy situation to excuse myself from. he stares at me for a second, taking in my appearance for the first time since he caught me tripping over a table like an idiot.
"you, um-- what's with the getup?" he sounds confused.
"it's a long story." I shrug. he frowns, opens his mouth, and carefully proceeds.
"listen, Y/N, this is gonna sound crazy, but I was just thinking about you--"
"Spencer." I shake my head. "don't."
"don't what?" he knows what. "I've been meaning to talk to you."
I know that I said I wanted to have this conversation and that officially declaring this as over is the best move, but now that it's in my face, I would do anything to melt into the floor. hell, I would go back to that club if it meant not handling this.
"about what?" the words hang in the air. Spencer shifts uncomfortably and examines me so intensely that I have to move my eyes to the book he's got, pretending to read the cover.
"you don't call me Spence anymore." his voice is quiet, eyes wide. they flash from the deep hollows in his face. where the shadows always sit.
"wait, what?" now I'm confused.
"did you know that aside from JJ, you were the only person who called me Spence? and then you stopped." he takes a step closer. I couldn't move if I wanted to. it feels like my legs have been frozen in place. part of me worries that they'll collapse under my weight.
"can you-- can we sit?" I gesture to the loveseat by the coffee table. he gives me a funny expression and nods, quiet until we're at opposite ends of the couch. neither of us twists up into odd shapes-- it's normal, adult sitting. and it feels wrong. I take a deep breath and submerge myself in this conversation that has been a long time coming.
"you have no idea how sorry I am, Y/N." the apology spills out from him like it's been sitting there for a while. my eyes slide down to my clasped hands, to my fingers, which fidget in my lap. I can't even look at him.
"I don't expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I didn't mean any of it." despite his sincerity, my eyebrows shoot up at the last part and I turn to confront him.
"Spencer, you wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean some of it."
"look," he proceeds with caution, trying to read every single one of my micro expressions. "there was a lot going on and I was feeling so frustrated that I said some horrible things. but it came out the wrong way and I need you to know that I didn't mean any of what I said."
"you do have a lot going on. just don't lie to me." I pull my leg up under me. this is proving to be a lot more difficult than anticipated. it's so weird to see someone I feel so comfortable around become some weird, unreachable force. "Spencer, I trusted you. there are things I've told you that nobody else knows."
"which is why I'm trying to apologize."
"sounds like you're real sorry about it." I say sarcastically. he takes a deep breath, rubs a certain spot on his palm with his thumb as he looks up at the ceiling. his jaw clenches.
"I'm not trying to excuse what I said. if I were you, I wouldn't even talk to me--"
"you're making a real great case for yourself right now." I deadpan. he drops his hands and stares at me.
"for God's sakes, Y/N, can you please just stop for a second?"
he pleads with his eyes. they're more tired than mine are. his tie hangs pathetically, loosely, around his neck. so I sit back and nod.
"I thought I was over my abandonment issues because it happened so long ago, but I wasn't. I'm still not." his gaze is trained on the floor. "and I took it out on you, which was beyond unfair."
I nod, accepting the acknowledgement, before he continues.
"and I was going to apologize to you earlier, only it seemed like space was what we both needed."
"you were right about that." I add. he finally turns fully to me, squaring his frame to take me in.
"anyway, what I mean is that I'm sorry," I watch the way his hands start to reach out to me before dropping in front of him. even now, we miss each other's touch. "but also, thank you."
my eyebrows raise with surprise.
"why?" my voice is barely there.
"everyone else left me alone, but you didn't. I've been with these guys for years, Y/N. and you know me better than any of them." there's a barely-there smile as he clings to hope.
"we're friends." I shrug to hide the softening of my heart. he looks like he's on the verge of breaking. the pained expression on Reid's face lets me know that my words have hurt him.
"we're not just friends and you know that." he makes steady eye contact and my heart drops into my shoes. I open my mouth to say something, then close it. truthfully, I have no idea what to say. we've had sex so many times, been the most intimate with each other than I have ever been with anyone, and yet we have never had this conversation. not really.
"Spencer, I forgive you, but you can't talk to me that way again." before we breach the other subject, I need to clear this up.
"never again." he says this with the kind of austerity that communicates something deeper. and I'm glad that his lashing out made him feel guilty, because he shouldn't have said it. I'm ready to forgive him, though. I trust that he'll keep his word. and I understand that much of it was brought on by something other than me.
"good." my smile is a truce. he keeps taking in my features like he'll forget them if he looks away. and then he stares at our feet, pointed toward each other.
"you know, when you first started working here, I thought we were going to hate each other. honestly, I thought you were gonna quit and work another department, maybe even pursue a completely different career." he lets out a little laugh and I frown.
"you could do anything you want, Y/N. easily. if you wanted to quit the FBI and do research straight out of college, you could."
I blush. "thanks."
"you're welcome. anyway, I was taken aback because here you were, all beautiful and smart and taking the space of one of my closest friends on the team. it's not an excuse, but you deserve an explanation."
pursing my lips, I watch him speak, because I love the sheer weight of his honesty. I love the way every word spills over with adoration, like he couldn't possibly feel any other emotion for me.
"and I love arguing with you, which I think scared me. we're so different, and you're not my type at all--"
"ouch." I frown. what even is his type?
"can I finish?" he raises his eyebrows, and my lips turn up at the corners with a quick smile. the playfulness has returned, it seems. "you're so much better."
"god, that's cheesy." but I'm grinning.
"yeah?" he says, the tone of it making me feel better.
"you're my dream girl, and I didn't even know it."
"stop." I giggle, scooting closer to him on the couch.
"and I can't sleep without you," these words take me aback because they're serious. my eyes go huge as I realize the importance of what he's saying. "haven't slept well since we fought."
he glances down at my hand, which is resting on the couch between us, the last barrier between our bodies. it's like I'm waiting for a trigger to make the final move, to close the space.
"me too." there's a short silence following my words as we ruminate on everything that's happened in the last few months. despising each other, never having enough of each other, finding out that things had gone beyond the physical. the ceilings of the library glow with the kind of white light that reminds me of buttercream frosting. soft and plush and sweet.
"can we please just stop fighting?" he asks suddenly. I give him a dubious look and he lets out a laugh before amending his own words. "at least the way we did last week."
"yeah, we can stop." I pretend to begrudge the idea. he grins at my sly behavior and grabs my wrist, kissing the inside of it and making me laugh.
"what was that for?"
"I missed your wrists," he kisses up my forearm. "and every part of you," when I lean into him, he trails his mouth up to my cheek, where he leaves a chaste peck. "especially your beautiful face."
"stop making me fall in love with you." the words slip without any thought. at first, I freeze, but he doesn't seem horrified at all. in fact, he breaks into an ear-splitting grin, the kind that I rarely see. his teeth are so straight and white and pretty.
"you're in love with me?"
"don't act like you don't know that." I roll my eyes, gasping when he wraps one arm around my waist and easily lifts me onto his lap. my dress hikes up a bit, but he doesn't notice. he's staring up at me with the most loving expression I have ever seen anyone give anyone else.
"I love you, too." he beams. "so much."
I wrinkle my nose and am about to let out an elated laugh when he pulls my face down to his. there's a moment where my heart stops in my chest, before it thuds so hard and fast that I worry he'll feel it through my dress. he holds me closely, makes sure I never leave again.
the way he presses his thumb into the line of my jaw, the familiar indent of his perfect nose pressed into my cheek, his taste. all of it comes together and creates this delightful sunburst in my chest. I don't care about working together and I really don't care what other people think. there is nothing in the world that I want more than him. and no quarrel will change my mind.
for the first time in so long, I'm better than okay. he adores me and I adore him; I feel it in the way his fingers keep me tethered to him like planets caught in each other's gravity, like otters falling asleep on the ocean.
the thought makes me giggle into our kiss, causing him to pull away.
"what?" he smirks.
"you're gonna hate me, but I was thinking about us being otters." I admit. instead of rolling his eyes or giving me a fact about the little creatures, he smiles.
"if we were otters, we would have such a good time." he tells me. I snort.
"we could just splash around all day and not think about serial killers."
"maybe in our next life."
"mmm." I hum, pressing another kiss to his lips. he holds onto my thighs, keeping me here, and another thing comes to mind. "Spence..."
"yes, pretty girl?" he smiles at the nickname. I try to find the words.
"it's not your fault what happened to you as a kid, but we need to work on our issues."
"I know." he sighs.
"like, we both need to go to therapy and deal with the childhood stuff."
"and I need you to promise that we'll keep each other accountable." I hold those lovely hazel eyes with my own, admire the way his pupils dilate when he sees me.
"I promise too, then." I kiss his nose, hold his face in my hands. so solid and warm and gentle. "we'll get through it together."
"can we go home, now, though? I'm getting tired and I want to snuggle." he pleads with an almost child-like tone. we both need to rest.
"that's the best idea you've had all day." I joke, climbing off of him and gathering up my things. I set my book back on the shelf and beam when he slides his hand into mine, easily entwining our fingers.
"wait a second," he pauses by the staircase. "we're together now, right?"
"yeah." I mull it over for a second, realizing that we never even defined our relationship.
"good." he nods. I nudge his shoulder with my own and practically skip down the steps, determined never to let go of him.
when I tell you I was glowing writing this. was I absolutely pumped full of caffeine and did I do this in one sitting? yes. but it felt v right. anyway-- I'll def do an epilogue but I could also do one extra chapter before that with some lovey smut.
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Hey lady, if you’re not busy could you do a George imagine? Along the lines of something with the 7 Potters, the reader and George fight about her going along with everyone and have a slight falling out. Then things become okay when George ends up with his ear blown off afterwards at the Burrow. Make sense? Thanks❤️
You frowned. "What the fuck do you mean I'm not going?" You asked George. "I mean, I talked it out with everyone else, you're not going, simple." George said walking. "Since when has literally everyone else had control over my actions!?" You asked. "Since this became a literal life and death situation and your dad didn't want you to die, and quite frankly I'm not a fan of that idea either." George said to you. "To hell what my dad thinks, Harry needs my help and I'm helping him!" You said. "And you will. Here." George said. "George!" You huffed, following him downstairs. "You can't stop me from doing this George!" You said angrily.
Remus looked up, hearing the argument. "No, you're right. But a whole group can." George said. "I can do this George, God why can't I just go--" "Because I refuse to put you in direct danger like that Y/n!" George snapped. "So you can go out into danger and I'm supposed to just sit here and pretend like that's fine while you and my dad charge off into battle like a couple of naïve jackasses who thinks that's safer!?" You asked. "Remus for the love of God talk to her." George sighed.
"Darling we are just trying to look out for you." Remus said. "You all seem to forget that I have a score to settle with these monsters too!" You snapped. "I know that Y/n, but your anger tends to blind you and we cannot risk you going out there and dying." Remus said. "But my boyfriend and his brother aren't. Hmm. Gee I'm beginning to think the jury is biased!" You snapped. "Yes. We are. We're all people who love you too much to see you hurt--" "I am more than willing to die for this-- God why can't you just--" "I already lost your mother I am not losing you too!" Remus said sharply. You shook your head and kicked the side of the fireplace. "I lost someone too! I witnessed people die too! I saw that-- I lived through that-- I LOST SIRIUS TOO!" You screamed.
The two men were silent as you shook. "You all get to play this part of coming back from a war like it only affects you. But you forget that I have seen this too. I was sitting in those stands watching Harry cling to Cedric, I was there when Umbridge took over, I was there when Arthur almost died and I was there when Sirius died. I can fucking handle myself and I've proven that time and time again, why can't any of you see that?" You asked. George sighed and shook his head "We know you can handle yourself Y/n. We just don't have a guarantee of survival." Remus said. "Neither do you and I can't lose either of you!" You said. "We can't lose you either!" George said back.
You shook your head. "Then don't go." You said, your voice breaking as you did. George closed his eyes, unable to look at that broken look you were giving him. "I have to do this." George said. You shook your head and George reached for you but you slapped his hand away, saying nothing as you pushed past him and went upstairs. George looked at Remus who was running a hand over his face. "We're doing the right thing. Right?" George asked. "We are... I just hope she sees that." Remus sighed.
You didn't come back downstairs for a while. Not even when George knocked on the door and told you that they'd be back soon. Well right now you were regretting not saying goodbye. Anxiety was coursing through you. You were absolutely terrified that something was going to happen. A part of you wished that you went with the group but George and Remus were dead set on leaving you out of the danger. Bill, Fred, George Fleur, Hermione and Ron all took a Polyjuice potion to throw death eaters off. You were forced to wait at the Burrow with Molly and Ginny.
You wouldn't stop moving. You were bouncing your leg or getting up and pacing. "I should have tried to stop them." you sighed. "Them?" Ginny asked. "George goes wherever Fred does, and Dad is out there-- I should have stopped them!" You sighed. "We're worried too dear." Molly said softly. You bit your nails and heard something outside.
You, Molly and Ginny ran out to see Harry and Hagrid. "Where are the others?" Molly asked. "They're not back yet?" Harry asked. "No." You muttered. Ginny pulled you aside. "I'm sure it's okay. Think about it Y/n, they would have to space out the times to come back to really throw them off.." Ginny assured. You nodded and noticed a blue flash of light. Molly had already gone back inside, unaware of the situation.
Remus ran out with George's arm wrapped around him, blood spewing from him. "George!" You gasped, helping Remus with him. You guided him to the couch and Molly gasped, George holding your hand. "Don't let me go." He muttered, you kneeled, Molly on your other side. Remus slammed Harry against the fireplace. "What creature sat in the corner the first time Harry Potter had visited my office in Hogwarts!?" Remus asked, wand aimed at Harry. "Have you gone MAD!?" Harry asked. "WHAT CREATURE!?" Remus repeated. "Grindylow!" Harry answered. Remus retracted and breathed. "We've been betrayed, Voldemort knew you were being moved tonight. I had to make sure you weren't an imposter." Remus explained as Molly tended to George. You heard noises outside and you drew shaking breaths, trying to keep calm in front of George.
Harry, Remus and Ginny ran outside to see what the noise was as you gripped George's hand. "I should've been with you." You breathed. "no... no you could've died tonight Y/n, I couldn't let that happen." George muttered. You were having a harder time keeping it together. "I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier." you whimpered. "It's okay Y/n..." George assured.
Fred ran over, kneeling next to you and wrapping an arm around you for comfort. "How you feelin' Georgie?" Fred asked. "Saint like." George said groggily. "Come again?" Fred asked. "Saint like. I'm Holy. I'm holey Fred. Get it?" George joked. You let out a laugh through the tears and Fred pulled you closer once he realized you were crying. "A whole wide world of ear related humor and you go for 'I'm holey'? It's pathetic." Fred snorted. "Still better looking than you." George said, still holding your hand. You drew shaking breaths and kissed his hand as Bill emerged.
"Mad eye's dead." Bill muttered. You said nothing, pulling away from the boys and walking upstairs. Remus followed you, knocking on the door of Ginny's room. He peaked his head inside and saw you crying on the bed you usually slept in. He sat next to you and pulled you to his chest, you sobbing and shaking in his arms. "I-I'm sorry dad." You whimpered. "It's alright pup, I'm okay. And considering what trooper George was during the battle, I'm sure he will be too." Remus assured. You clenched the sides of Remus' jacket and he rubbed your back. "It could've been you." You whimpered. "What?" Remus asked. "Alister could've b-been you or George dad." you muttered. Remus pulled you closer. "I almost lost b-both of you." You whimpered. Remus held you tightly and let out a breath. "I know Pup... I know." he soothed.
Molly knocked on the doorframe, seeing you hugging Remus. "Oh darling... Are you alright?" She asked. "This war sucks." you whined making both of the parents laugh. Molly kissed your forehead, smiling. "I'm making dinner tonight.. A little treat for survival." She said. You let out a sad laugh and she smiled. "Thank you Molly." Remus said before she went back downstairs. "Will you be alright?" Remus asked. You nodded and he got up, you wiping your eyes. You looked over to see Fred standing in the doorway.
"Georgie wanted to see you." Fred said. "okay." you muttered getting up. You walked back downstairs and George looked over, slightly more aware of his surroundings. "Hey darling-- ow." He winced as he spoke. "Careful George." you said, kneeling next to him. He kissed your hand amd you sighed looking at him. Remus set a bowl of water, a towel and bandages down. "We need to clean his wounds... Do you want to do it?" Remus asked. "You're better at it." You said to him.
"Hold him. He's about to hate me." Remus said. "Any idea who did this to you?" You asked. "no.." George said. You sighed and kissed his hand as Remus began the process. George winces and you felt him tightened his grip around your hand. "Remus about that thing we talked about-- Ow!" George said making Remus raise a brow. "I haven't changed my answer if that's what you're asking." Remus said. "Good-- Holy fuck that hurts." George winced. "Love, you're gripping my hand a little too tight." You winced. He slowly released the tight grip but quickly tightened it again after Remus touched the wound again. "Nngg-- Christ how do you deal with this!?" He asked, referring to the scars that you had from Remus' changes.
He rarely allowed you near him during full moons but sometimes he genuinely had no one else and needed you there. It certainly helped that you were an animagus. The irony of you being a wolf when your dad was a werewolf was not lost on you. You had this ongoing theory that Sirius was actually your uncle and you being a wolf was a way to distinguish the family. Actually, Sirius went along with this too, referring to you, him and Remus (and later on, Tonks) as a pack.
"I have my ways." You said as George gripped your hand. "Tell me something good-- PLEASE!" George winced. "I'm glad you made it back to me." You said softly. He chuckled before wincing. "I'm almost done" Remus assured. "Hell on Earth wouldn't have stopped me from seeing you again Y/n." George said as remus finally got the blood to stop. "Lean up." Remus said. George slowly leaned up, Remus carefully wrapping his head. George winced slightly at the fabric's contact with his ear and George pulled you into his arms now that he was sitting up.
"I'm sorry I worried you darling." George said. You said nothing, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "I love you." He said. "I love you too." You mumbled making him lean so your face was off of his neck and staring at him. His kissed your forehead and you curled into his lap, George holding you close.
Remus looked at his daughter and George, Molly and Arthur standing next to him. "Should we separate them?" Tonks asked. Remus chuckled and shook his head.
"No... No let's leave them alone for a while"
Taglist:@amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho
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