#the chapter i'm working on as been such a fucking mess of emotions

[matrixbearer2024]

After reading the "Club Catastrophe" could I please request a Vox POV after the Club rink and it's just him going home and letting all of his questionable feelings for Reader out of his systems(See what I did there?)

A Heart's Conundrum

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I love writing introspective chapters like this in Vox's POV, lets me mess around with his brain and just have him actually face the music that this is in fact something entirely different. What he has with our dear Reader is actually special, and that he's fucking terrified by it. Usually I've seen Vox often "tending to himself" in other fics when he's obsessed over someone but I notice it's usually because he's got a facination and interest but not something quite complicated like this. Bro doesn't feel lust here despite the closeness and he's very VERY confused. I wasn't initially going to write something like this to keep things pretty goofy but it actually slots into the narrative pretty well to have the resident TV man take another gander at attempting to understand his emotions after the emotional whiplash he'd gone through in "Reunited Again Aren't We?". Bonus points that we kind of get a jealous Valentino confrontation HAHAHAHA-

A/N: This chapter kind of mentions Vark being a good boy and taking care of his emotionally constipated owner lol, I love myself a good doggo. I plan on reader meeting the funny little dude in a later interlude but for now it's just going to be mostly Vox. Anyway, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this series- I just wanted to say thank you to those sending me love through my inbox too! I read all the things you guys say so it makes me really happy to see my work so well recieved. As always, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and happy reading!

When Vox had warned you back then to be careful at a party and not to drink too much-

He only said it out of courtesy in good faith that you knew how to hold your liquor.

Disclaimer, you didn't.

Another thing he didn't expect was just how easy it was for you to get drunk.

It was like your tolerance was nonexistent.

The two of you had just been hanging around by the bar and ordering drinks when he noticed you were starting to sway slightly in your seat.

That made the overlord glance over to see you'd just gone through two margaritas and you were holding a third.

Vox had been drinking a lot slower than you have, adopting a leisurely pace and just trying out the different cocktails that the bar had to offer.

Though seeing what you were doing made him wonder if you were still kind of new to casual drinking.

Rolling his eyes, the overlord finished up his martini and plucked the half-finished margarita from your hands.

"Okay doll, maybe that's enough for you."

"Whaaaaaa? Whyyyy??"

"Because you're drunk dollface, so I won't let you have any more."

"Awwwwwhhhhh... can't I at least finishhh itttt??"

Your words were slurred and your breath absolutely reeked of alcohol, your movements clumsy as you tried to grab your beverage back.

When you ungraciously slumped against his chest in a giggling mess while trying, Vox was fairly certain you were hammered out of your mind at this point.

That took a lot less than he originally thought it would.

Placing down your glass at the bar, he let you stay leaning on him while he shrugged his blazer off and wrapped it around you instead.

Your fluffy ears just wiggled around slightly when he'd done that, making Vox raise an eyebrow at you.

Especially when your arms clumsily circled his waist in a hug and kept him there.

"Mhmmmm... warmmmmm..."

Pfft, you were really out of it this time.

He couldn't help the smile on his face at your antics, but as cute as it was-

It would be really irresponsible to still keep you here in the club.

When he noticed Vaggie was nearby, the overlord waved her down to get her attention.

He didn't know if the mild surprise from her was because of how clingy you were or because he wasn't really reacting to it.

"Woah, what happened to (Y/N)?"

"Drank a bit too much too fast. I'm gonna take (Y/N) back to the hotel so they can rest."

"Sure, we'll meet you there. We'll only be staying a little while longer anyway."

"Whaaaaaaa?? Nooooooo- I don't wanna gooooooo-"

"Nope, you need rest. Let's go."

Vox just sighed when you made a small fuss about leaving and being carried.

You were cute, but your drunken stubbornness was not.

Especially with how difficult you made it for the overlord to properly carry you.

In every other way he tried to grab hold, you squirmed out of his grip and it almost made him drop you multiple times.

He panicked a few times when he almost did but it just made him feel more tired when he saw you were fine-

He did eventually find a compromise though, since it seemed you didn't have too many issues being carried on piggyback.

Your head rested on his shoulder by the time he walked you both out of the club, arms wrapped around his neck while he held up your legs.

"Vooooxxyyyyyyy~ Where are we gooiiinnnnnn~?"

"Back to the hotel, you're wasted dollface."

"Aawwwwhhh? I wanted to keep partying witchuuuuuuu-"

"There's always a next time doll, just don't drink too much again."

You giggled at his response and Vox couldn't help but smile.

Your ramblings were entertaining, and it gave him some food for thought while walking back to the hotel.

He just hummed and agreed with some of the things you would say, even if it was nonsensical or not to show he was still listening.

Of course, that was until you said something that nearly made Vox trip on his own feet.

"Mhhhmmmm- you're really cute ya knowww~? I like that yooouuu alwaayyshhh take care of meh-"

"I'm not cute, but thank you."

He tried to brush off the comment, struggling to reign in his own emotions in lest he accidentally overheat and burn you.

He already had trouble just getting over your antics, the last thing he needed was to accidentally bluescreen and drop you because you drunkenly said something cute.

Well, that was until his processing froze anyway when you nuzzled your head into the back of his neck and mumbled something he couldn't quite catch.

His heart jumped into his throat and he had to stop walking for a moment, willing himself to calm down.

Static charge began to wind up in the air around him, and he took a moment to focus and dissipate it before moving again.

He almost zapped you, and it would'be been completely your fault-

You were making it really difficult to just- exist at the moment.

Not that Vox was complaining, he just didn't really know what to do with himself at the moment.

He wondered slightly if you'd even remember any of this come tomorrow, but that wasn't really his problem.

He used his powers to open the hotel doors before stepping in, immediately making his way towards your room.

Vox already knew where it was, especially since he'd walk you there whenever he visited before leaving to return to Vee tower.

He let out a tired sigh before gently placing you down on the bed mattress, just leaving his coat wrapped around you while he tucked you in.

Considering that you were already out like a light, the overlord could only guess that you'd fallen asleep just a little earlier while he was still walking.

Not that he'd have been able to notice when he was too busy trying to keep his abilities from going sideways because of you.

Vox looked back to your resting form and couldn't help but fondly smile, slowly moving to your side and brushing away a stray hair that fell over your face.

Your expression reminded him of the one night he'd been at your side after that horrible situation with your ex back when you were alive.

You just looked so peaceful, not plagued by any worry or fear of anything else.

That made him just that little bit more relaxed compared to earlier.

Before he knew it, he placed a soft kiss to your temple while you slept.

"Rest well my dear."

Vox stays there for a while to make sure you're actually asleep before getting up and walking out.

His limbs feel heavier than earlier, to the point he actually needs to make a conscious effort to leave you.

By the time he's walking out of the hotel, he feels weird.

Like he's just extremely tired, but... pleased?

Once he gathers his bearings again, he travels through some wires to get back to the Vee tower.

However, he's a bit absentminded when he walks through the doors.

"Hold up, where's your blazer?"

Vox doesn't even look at Velvette when he replies, his posture slightly slumped to reflect his exhaustion.

Compared to his typical work day, this wasn't really much.

So he wasn't entirely sure why he felt so out of it already.

"(Y/N) borrowed it, I'll just get it tomorrow."

He mumbled, walking past the youngest Vee towards the elevator.

The overlord's only goal right now was to get to his room and just rest.

By the time Vox shuts the door behind him, he leans back against the cold metal with a sigh.

His back sliding down until the overlord finds himself sitting on the floor with his screen in his hands.

Today was... something.

From how eager you were to teach him how to skate-

Then the anger he felt from that other sinner trying to make a move on you-

To becoming one adorably messy drunk.

Not to mention the kiss you'd given him-

His fans whirred louder when he raised a clawed hand to where you'd pecked his cheek.

You nearly crashed his systems with that one.

Only when he hears a yip and some cooing does he snap out of it and look up.

Ah.

"Hey Vark..."

The hammerhead moved closer to him and whined slightly, prompting Vox to start petting him in comfort.

The little guy always seemed to know if there was just something up with his owner.

Today was no different.

"I'm okay, just tired. Today was... weird."

The shark kind of just sat there, accepting pets while the overlord talked to him about his day.

The ups and downs-

Even some of the random things you mentioned-

He recounted everything, talking to the hammerhead about it to get it off his chest.

It didn't matter if Vark couldn't say anything in response, the little guy was just listening attentively to his owner regardless.

And as silly as it was- Vox just had to let all of his thoughts out.

It wasn't like there was anyone else he could talk to about this stuff either.

"And it's so odd... I almost didn't want to leave the hotel earlier when I dropped her off."

The shark just made a displeased noise.

"Oh come on, you know I wouldn't leave you by yourself here. Hm, it's almost time for your dinner."

While preparing Vark's food, the overlord finds his mind wandering back to you again.

Especially that time you had to watch over your friend's puppy.

He didn't really understand why he did the things he did back then either.

Placing the pet bowl down in front of the hammerhead, Vox wanders outside to the common room and plops himself down on the couch to surf his phone.

He had nothing better to do, and as tired as he was-

He didn't feel like sleeping quite yet.

When the couch dips beside him, Vox looks up from the small gadget only to see Velvette gazing at him inquisitively.

"Gotta say, this is probably the most chill I've ever seen you."

The overlord scoffs and rolls his eyes, was he really that subdued today?

"I drank quite a bit earlier at the club so I'm still feeling the buzz from the alcohol."

That was a lie, he didn't really drink much compared to his usual.

It just seemed like the most sound excuse he had that didn't involve you.

Still, Velvette just rolled her eyes at his deflective response.

"Right. Anyway, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Your thing with (Y/N)?"

"Why not just ask her yourself?"

"She's not responding and I've got to know the details old man."

Vox just looked at his colleague for a moment, debating on shrugging off her question.

Hm...

Well, he was feeling nice.

He could indulge her a little.

"We just met together at the club to catch up. We talked, we sang, we danced, and then I saw (Y/N) off at the hotel before coming back here."

"Wow, that has got to be the most boring date ever."

The overlord just shrugged nonchalantly, he left out a vital piece of information on purpose but it was mostly because he didn't know what to do with it.

Yeah... he still wasn't sure how to make heads or tails of that kiss.

And it wasn't even a proper kiss either.

But suddenly, the loud slam of a door from behind them made the other two Vees quickly look to see who caused it.

And in strolled a clearly irritated pimp overlord.

"A date? You're kidding me Voxy, you actually went on a date?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call it that, but I did go out today. Why?"

"Don't fuck with me right now Vox, did you or did you not go on a date?"

Despite the buzz of the alcohol in his systems keeping him more pacified than usual, Vox narrowed his eyes at Valentino annoyed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's unlike you to just go on a date without needing something from someone. Like a deal or to conduct business, and I checked in with your secretary amorcito, you didn't have anything scheduled for today."

Velvette just stared between her two colleagues.

She wasn't about to get involved in this drama.

After all, it was Vox's fault if he couldn't properly handle his relationships.

Even if a small part of her did grow concerned about how (Y/N) factored into this.

"I just went out to a club, drank a little and came back. What's that to you?"

"Oh Voxy~ If you wanted to go clubbing why didn't you invite me~?"

Valentino moved closer to the couch, adopting a flirty tone and sensually grabbing Vox's arm.

To which the technology overlord just shrugged off his advances.

It felt wrong.

Just, all sorts and levels of wrong.

Predictably, the moth wasn't pleased with that reaction.

All the more when he had caught a wiff of something new.

That perfume didn't belong to any of them-

So who's was it?!

"You fucking liar! Who the fuck were you with at the club Vox?!"

"I wasn't with anybody, I just went to go drink and unwind. It's been a long week."

"Oh please, as if that's the case. Which new plaything did you find? Don't tell me you actually have feelings for some random tramp you found off the streets?!"

Vox didn't really know how to react to those words.

On one hand, he was absolutely livid that Valentino thought you were just some 'random tramp'.

But on the other hand, that just brought his feelings back into question again.

You were both friends-

And that was it.

Right?

Still the overlord couldn't help but question if that really was just the case.

"Fuck off Val."

"You wouldn't go around dating with just anybody, what the hell were you doing and with who?"

"I'm going to sleep."

At this point, Vox was just done with the conversation.

He didn't want to keep dancing around the obvious question and it just made him feel more tired.

Rising from the couch, he attempted to walk past Valentino and just head back to his room.

Well, that was before the pimp roughly grabbed his arm and prevented him from leaving.

"Who the fuck was it Vox? I swear to god I'm going to turn the entire ring upside down and find that bitch if it's the last thing I-"

The moth didn't even have time to finish his sentence before he got a heavy punch to the face.

Staggering back, Valentino looked at his colleague with wide eyes when he realized what had happened.

All the more surprising was just how royally pissed his colleague looked.

Vox's screen glitched as sparks and small jolts of electricity jumped across his body, his left eye swirling with rings as he just finally put his arms down and just glared at Valentino.

"If you so much as harm a single hair on their head I will personally kill you myself."

His voice was distorted by some static overlay, the white noise only fizzling away when Vox had managed to compose himself properly.

Velvette merely glanced between the two worried this altercation might end up devolving into something worse.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Valentino just grit his teeth and glared at the technology overlord, watching as he held his arms behind his back and briskly walked away.

That punch fucking hurt!

By the time Vox had returned back to his own bedroom, he sighed as his colleague's words just echoed in his mind.

He didn't have feelings for you-

You were both just very close good friends.

But when he passed a nearby mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself.

This wasn't the smiling telecaster overlord that had total control over hell's biggest technological empire.

This was just... him.

Tired and disheveled in a light blue turtleneck practically falling to pieces because he couldn't understand what was going on.

And this was considering that Vox was already a pretty self aware person from an emotional standpoint.

After all, he had to make sure not to have freak outs too bad or it could cause the entire pentagram city to lose power.

So why...

Why was he such a train wreck whenever it came to you???

Inadvertently, he'd changed over time because of your influence.

How he felt towards Valentino being more than proof of that.

And again, his chest bloomed with a warm fuzzy sensation he couldn't properly comprehend at the thought of you.

Sizzling his wires and just feeding his systems with an electrifying feeling that Vox just couldn't begin wrap his head around.

Again, it was because of you.

He stared at the mirror for a good minute before catching himself with a tinged pink screen.

Wait a minute-

He's seen this kind of situation play out before.

After all, he's aired enough shitty and cliche romance dramas to know.

There was just no fucking way.

He couldn't be foolishly head over heels in love with you.

And still, as he continued to look-

The more things in the past started to click into place.

His emotions and reactions around you just started to make more and more sense when love was inserted into the context of the situation.

The reality crashed into Vox like a freight train and he just stared at his reflection in disbelief.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

He was completely fucked.

A/N: Now if y'all are expecting Reader to start dating Vox after his oh so overdue realization- they're not. Cuz our dear (Y/N) is hilariously dense and Vox just does not wanna make a move when he's still trying to understand when and how the heck this happened without him noticing lmao so still more suffering and shenanigans that are going to make us and the Hazbin cast absolutely appalled at how a pair of people can be so blind to a truth slamming into their faces-

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

[turtletaubwrites]

Turtletaub Fic Recs ~ Part 1

This is but a small sample of the incredible One Piece fics, headcanons, and drabbles that I've read on this lovely site, so I will be adding many more lists going forward! Please enjoy, and spread the love to these writers that have given me all sorts of feels 🥰 I've dug through my list, so some of these are recent, and some are from a while ago, but they all deserve a read. Enjoy!

Ace

Starvation by @wallachianblood ~ ANGST!! Only read this one if you want to hurt inside. Which is why I highly recommend! It tackles grief in such an interesting and uncomfortable way, and it's been stuck in my brain. (Please check the warnings, there's intense grief, angst, discussion death and of cannibalism in reference to romantic love and pain.)

Benn Beckman

When You Had The Chance by @fanaticsnail ~ The longing! The yearning! The "oof, why is this old man so hot?!" 🥵 Beautifully written as always, and now I have ANOTHER One Piece crush 😅

Buggy

@hey-august keeps giving us delicious lil Buggy bits that I can't get enough of! Have a taste: Breakfast, Whimpers

A Favor for the Captain ~ MORE Buggy from @hey-august that is just so stinkin' cute + hot! This two part fic is so well written, and I just adore when pathetic Buggy gets the love! 🤡💜

Corazon

A Reward From Cora by @leakyweep ~ STILL thinking about this. Short but sweet, and my Corazon, my heart, is now occupying my brain in a very different way. I would appreciate some more quiet time please 🥰

Eustass Kid

Kid by @kaizokuniichan ~ Hi, yes, this is so good! This is the fic that finally flipped me over into Kid territory. Now I'm scrambling, trying to figure out how to deal with a crush on this dumbass 🤦🏼‍♀️

Jinbe

Guiding Star by @discordantwritings ~ I didn't know I needed this, but I definitely did. Holy fuck, that fish man is sweet and 🥵🥵 Need me some more of this!

Mihawk

Little Game by @gingernut1314 ~ This is STUNNING. I'm late to the game, so I'm flipping stoked that I have more to read! The first chapter already killed me with how beautifully it's written, how rich the world/story is, and how interesting and lovely both Mihawk and the reader are!

Sanji

3, 2, 1 by @fanaticsnail ~ Ooh, this Sanji fic messed me up in the best way! I absolutely adored the flirty build up, the tension, the angst, and the lovely, smutty finale. Seriously, one of my fave Sanji fics, and you should give it a read!

Baby, It's Hot out Here by @lowkeycasanova ~ I LOVE perverted Sanji so much! Here's another short but sweet fic that carved a smutty little spot into my head. I bet Sanji would learn to make the tastiest popsicles just to enjoy the show 😏

I Can Teach You If You'd Like by @vinsmokc-sanji ~ Yeah, this is cute as fuck. Reminded me of working at restaurants, and having a crush on peeps that had no business being as hot as they were. SFW, and super cute, check it out!

Trafalgar Law (Can you tell I've been on a Law kick for a while?)

Pain Management by @thus-spoke-lo ~ I'm sorry, this fic still keeps me up at night. It has rooted itself into my skull, and I don't think it will ever leave. HIGHLY recommend. (Please check content warnings! This fic contains dubcon elements.)

Beset Fixation by @eelnoise ~ Yeah, Law with the feelings fucks me UP. This is so good, sexy, and emotional. 10/10

Therapist Law by @sanjisjuul ~ Um, hello?! This one has also stuck to my brain, and made me even more concerned for my mental health than I already was. Oh well 🤷🏼‍♀️ It's hot as fuck, highly recommend!

A New Routine, A New Man by @willowhaze26 ~ This is so satisfying, and so hot 🥵 One of the first Law fics I found, and I am grateful for this delightful work 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hearts and Marks by @escenariosinfumables ~ This is one of the cutest fucking things I've ever read, and I need it to be canon.

Zoro

Rough by @kibblz-n-bitz ~ This is short, but filthy! Dirty talkin, dom Zoro is oh so 🥵

Ways That Zoro Wordlessly Says "I Love You" by @nina-ya ~ Such cute Zoro fluff, I adore him 😭💚 He's just a big sweetie!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

#fic rec list #fic recs #turtletaub fic recs #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #smut #trafalgar law smut #sanji x reader #fic masterlist #buggy smut #fem!reader #reader insert #one piece fics #mihawk x reader #jinbe x reader #zoro smut

[reiderwriter]

♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

Prev Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

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[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 20: Trapped in limbo

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 22.8k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ warnings: lots and lots of crying; grief; medical stuff i am only pretending to understand; hidden doors; anxiety, panic, fainting, & PTSD; mention of past abuse; dream gore that borders on romantic; graphic & violent nightmares; recreational drinking & drug use (mdma, cocaine, weed); miscommunication & lack of communication due to emotional distress; smut (oral and vaginal sex; not quite somnophilia but almost; orgasm denial thanks to medication; sex while on drugs; fingering; use of restraints; a hint of booty play; cum swallowing); every smut scene is a fucking mess.

🗡️ note: grief is a deep sorrow that we experience for so many more reasons than when someone passes away. sometimes we grieve people who are still with us. other times, we grieve a relationship before it has come to an end. this chapter, and every remaining chapter of Collateral, is going to deal a lot with grief. this chapter was tough to write, and then i couldn't stop. all it was meant to be was a handful of scenes with heavy dialogue interspersed with anxiety and adjusting to medication and messy smut, and somehow we reached that bonkers word count. i didn't once stray from the outline, i am just incapable of being brief, these days. anyway, there will be some time skips/blurs because of the medication, and between one and a half and two weeks pass.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on sept. 2023 | read on ao3

It is unclear what time you hear a knock at the door. You are unsure where your purse ended up in last night's scuffle, the hints of sun that would be visible are blocked by deep burgundy curtains, and your vision is so blurry from exhaustion and tears, that it is hard to parse whether or not there is a clock amongst all the strange antique furnishings of Seokjin and Hoseok's living room. 

The sound of footsteps scampering behind the couch, presumably from the kitchen, surprises you, and you wonder whether you truly have been awake this entire time, or somewhere in an in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness. 

Voices chatter low and hurried, and then a figure rushes over and sits at your side. It takes two heavy blinks to realize that the man settling in beside you is Taehyung dressed dapperly in all black, and when you cock your head to the right in question, his plastered smile falls into a frown.

"I'm so sorry about everything that happened," Taehyung begins. You want to shake your head and tell him that it is not his fault, but all you can bring yourself to do is stare and blink. "Let me start off by saying everyone is alive."

"Everyone," you mumble quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. With a heavy exhale, you attempt to smile. 

"Jimin was shot in the shoulder, and it was the impact of hitting the ground that knocked him out. Although he has not suffered too much blood loss, and his vitals are stable, he has not woken up, and I am unsure when we can expect him to, but there does not appear to be any brain damage."

These are a lot of words—too many words, in fact, for you to follow along with, and you simply nod. All you hold onto is the fact that Jimin is alive; for now, that is enough. 

"Yoongi," you mutter, elongating the vowels. Once more, Taehyung frowns.

"Yoongi has a gash across his eye, starting above the brow and extending to the apple of his cheek." As Taehyung describes the wound, your heart pounds, and nausea fills your insides. He continues, "But, luckily, his eyeball is intact and unharmed. There does not appear to be any vision impairment."

"How…" you begin, brow and lips falling into a frown, but the words die on your tongue. 

Taehyung says your first name, low and slow, like someone gently regarding a child. Hearing your name spoken aloud, rather than a nickname, causes the hairs on your arms to stand, and you swallow a lump of worry. 

"What do you remember, after Jimin was shot?"

You search Taehyung's face while the events return in fragments. Once Jimin fell, you reacted by shooting his assailant multiple times. At the time, you were worried—in fact, convinced—that Jimin was dead, and all you could feel in that moment was rage. Once your bullets ran out, you wanted to bash the man's face in, but you were held back. Then you took out your knife, which was pulled away from you. 

"I emptied my clip but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to stab him," you say. "The man, I mean. But my knife was taken away."

Taehyung leans close and reaches for both of your clammy hands, holding firmly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles as he speaks very softly. "When Namjoon attempted to pull your knife away, Yoongi was—" Taehyung sighs, "—he was standing too close. You and Namjoon both yanked at your arm, and in that motion, the tip of the blade sliced his face."

It takes several tense, quiet moments before anything Taehyung says fully computes. You stare at him, searching his face while the synapses fire inside your brain in an attempt to communicate what you see, feel, and hear. And then, like a thin layer of dust settling over all it can touch, the information begins to trickle down and shroud you.

"I…" you mutter, feeling tears well and fall. You have cried so much that you neither sniffle nor tremble as your cheeks grow wetter and wetter. And then, you say it. "I cut Yoongi."

"It was an accident," Taehyung is quick to add, and you rip your hands from his grasp and ball them in front of your face, feeling your chest tighten and tighten, squeezing the air out. 

This cannot be. You cannot be responsible for injuring Yoongi. How will you ever face him again, knowing what you have done?

"I'm dreaming," you mutter, suddenly feeling hysterical. Laughter works through your chest just as quickly as panic rises, and you shake your head, unable to control your emotions. "This is just a bad dream. There's no way—"

"Would you like to see him?" Taehyung asks, snapping you back to reality. 

With a sniffle, you shake your head, horrified at the prospect of facing Yoongi after what you have done. 

"How could I?" you mutter uselessly into your balled fists. "How could I face him? How could he ever look at me again?"

Again, Taehyung says your first name as he gently reaches for your hands and attempts to remove them from in front of your face. You allow him to, sighing as they fall into your lap. "It was an accident. He does not blame you. None of us do."

But you know that at least one of them does. "Jeongguk," you mutter, remembering his snarl as he told you, You've done enough.

With a sigh, Taehyung shakes his head. "Jeongguk was just scared. He was angry in the moment, but he does not hold it against you."

With a scoff, you shake your head in return; there is no way Jeongguk would forgive you so easily. It took months to get on his good side and only seconds for him to turn on you. Your voice is weak and soft as you rasp, "I doubt it."

"Come with me to the mansion," Taehyung says, sitting up and scooting a fraction of an inch closer. "Yoongi and Namjoon want to see you, and our family psychiatrist Christopher is on standby, should you need to talk to him."

"What I need is to be sedated," you grumble as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your eyes momentarily shut. "I couldn't sleep. Just kept seeing the man's head explode—the man Hoseok shot."

Taehyung's lips twitch upward as he says, "We can figure something out."

Looking down at yourself, you see Hoseok's black pajamas and sigh. "I'm keeping these," you say, resolved not to change into your dress again. 

"They're yours," Taehyung responds with a soft laugh, glancing over your shoulder for a brief moment. You wonder whether Seokjin or Hoseok are standing back there, but you also don't care enough to turn. 

"Alright," you concede with a huff and sit forward, stretching your back and letting out a deep, low yawn. "We can return to the mansion, but I'm not…I don't know how much I will be able to talk. I'm so fucking tired."

Taehyung smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. It is the smile of someone who is exhausted but pleased with the way things are going in the present moment; the smile of someone glad he does not need to convince you any further to go home. "Christopher can recommend something for you to take, and we can get you straight into bed, if you prefer."

"My purse," you grumble, looking around. 

"It was in my vehicle," Taehyung says. "I gave it to Namjoon for safekeeping."

With another nod, you shift, sitting forward, then you stretch your legs from where they had been bunched and pretzled beneath you. As you stand from the couch and stretch again—this time extending all your limbs, twisting your back, breathing deeply—it hits you that you are returning home, and anxiety swells. 

But you know that there is no way you can stay away from home. No matter how badly Yoongi has been injured, and how guilty you feel about what has happened, you need to face it. You need to return to your home, to your bed, to your men. 

"Ready?" Taehyung asks softly, rounding the couch toward the front door. 

Only then do you turn to your left and find Hoseok leaning against the banister at the bottom landing of the stairs, barely out of view from where you had been sitting. Although he smiles, it is a sad expression, and he watches you silently. 

"I'm ready," you respond, gaze lingering on Hoseok before dropping to the floor. 

Your limbs are heavy as you shuffle toward the door. On the arm of the couch, your black dress is folded neatly, and you take it in your hands, rubbing your fingers over the soft satin material. 

"Thanks for the pajamas," you say softly with a hint of a smile, doing your best at humor despite feeling lower than you think you have ever felt. 

Hoseok smiles when you glance back up and catch his eye, responding, "My pleasure. I hope the garments treat you well."

This makes you laugh, but it also forces more tears to work their way out with a soft sob and a sniffle. With an arm gently wrapped around your lower back, Taehyung guides you to the entrance, where you slip on your ballet flats, and head out the door. 

The sun is high and bright, signaling late morning, and you squint and lift your hand to block the light. To your surprise, parked beside a large black sedan is a little white golf cart, and Taehyung steers you toward it. 

"Sick ride," you grumble with an attempted grin. 

Taehyung's hand drops away as you lean forward and step into the cart, taking a seat on the little white plastic bench. It only takes a moment for Taehyung to round the front and enter, and then you are off, making your way from Hoseok's home down a short gravel and dirt road tucked away in some trees, to Yoongi's mansion. 

The driveway is packed with vehicles, making you substantially more nervous than you already had been, and you swallow thickly while attempting to steady your breathing. Rather than driving to the front door, Taehyung takes an immediate right and stops the cart on the side of the mansion. From here, there are no clear paths to the gardens or the pool, and you are confused when Taehyung gets out of the vehicle and begins to walk toward where there is a shrub wall that intersects with the side of the mansion.

It takes a moment to process the fact that you are in charge of manually moving your limbs, and with a sigh, you step out of the cart, hugging your black satin dress tight to your chest. Taehyung walks to the intersection of shrubbery and building, and then he reaches into the greenery at chest height before pushing a section of it open and revealing a hidden door. 

"I bet you have no idea how many secrets this place holds," he says with a grin, and you shake your head before scurrying after him, through the shrub-covered door. 

A narrow path between shrub wall and dark brown wood greets you, and Taehyung walks toward the back, to where a door can be found against the side of the house. He punches in a code, leans forward to scan his retina, and then twists a knob, gaining entrance. 

"Yoongi is currently meeting with the security team and some others, hence all the vehicles," Taehyung says as he holds the door open for you to enter. "They should be finished soon."

As you step inside, you are greeted by a set of stairs that travel down under the mansion. Although there is a light that Taehyung switches on, and the steps are carpeted in a welcoming royal blue, there is something so foreboding about a surprise set of stairs leading down into the earth.

"Where are we?" you ask as Taehyung closes the door tightly behind you and begins to descend on your right. You do your best to keep up, loosely holding onto a wooden railing on your left while your other hand grips your satin dress close to your chest. 

"Beside the kitchen," Taehyung responds. "Between the kitchen and living room, to be exact." 

Once you reach the basement level, Taehyung flips on another switch and turns off the stairwell light behind you. There is an large room carpeted and furnished in blues, blacks, and tans, and you are surprised as you look around at the space. It smells somewhat musty, and you wonder when the last time anyone actually came down here may have been. 

"We don't use this space anymore," Taehyung says as if reading your mind. "But when Yoongi's parents were still alive, this was where he would spend a lot of his time."

You hum and nod, glancing around further. Along a back wall is a wooden bar, now empty, but you imagine it stocked with bottles of whatever liquors a younger version of Yoongi may have liked. There are also recreational table games on the far end that look unfamiliar, as well as a pool table. A dartboard and pool cues share the same wall with the bar top, and you try to imagine Yoongi and Namjoon, and probably also Ryujin, spending their evenings down here as teenagers. 

"Our group used to come down here to party and debrief in the early days," Taehyung adds as you continue to walk through the space toward a door along the wall ahead. "But that was before Yoongi owned hotels, casinos, nightclubs, and all that."

"Oh," you mutter, trying to imagine a Yoongi who did not own half of Seoul. You wonder how much of his empire he inherited from his father versus how much of it he built himself. 

You almost feel remorse over never knowing that side of Yoongi—a younger man who was not so tied down to his duties as a mafia king. But then you remember the scars along his sides, chest, and stomach, and you wonder whether there was ever a carefree man in Yoongi's skin. 

"Just a little further," Taehyung says, holding his hand up toward the door at the far end. 

"Where does this lead to?" you ask. 

"We are going to go up one more set of steps and end up on the other end of the hall, " Taehyung explains, voice soft, deep, and measured. "From there, we will tip-toe up the stairs and wait for Yoongi and Namjoon. Although this is the scenic route, I thought having to walk through the front door might be too stressful for you. I also thought it would be in your best interest to become well acquainted with these more hidden parts of the home."

This gives you pause, and you stumble on your next step ever so slightly, catching the toe of your right ballet flat against the soft carpet beneath. "Oh?"

With a soft sigh, Taehyung stops and turns to you, and you halt, doing the same. 

"Just in case," he says, regarding you with a hint of a frown. "I don't want to worry you or anything…but I feel like these are secrets you should know because, well, you never know."

The two of you stand facing one another for several quiet seconds, and then you nod and heavy-blink, turning your attention back toward the door. Everything feels so ominous, even simple gestures of kindness, and you attempt to swallow down the fact that this is your reality. 

"Thank you," you mutter quietly, clearing your throat to speak more clearly as you glance at Taehyung once again. "I appreciate it."

Taehyung cracks a smile, then holds his hand out to the door, sing-songing a corny, "Ladies first," and you chuckle, hesitating before reaching for the knob and turning it. It opens to another dark stairwell, and Taehyung steps forward and rubs along the wall before light illuminates the narrow space. You note that the light switches seem to be along the same wall on both ends of the room, just in case the information may one day come in handy.

As you begin to ascend, Taehyung closes the door behind you and steps in line to your right. You make your way further up, closer to your destination, and your heart begins to pound. Faced with the opportunity of seeing Yoongi and Namjoon again has you feeling so many ways, and they all swirl uncomfortably in your gut. You know they are likely not angry with you…but what if they are?

Rather than go straight up, this stairwell stops halfway and curves around, much like a standard building stairwell, only carpeted. At the top of the stairs, Taehyung reaches in front of you and very gently, slowly pulls on a large metal handle. 

He opens the door just as slowly, and you realize that he must be attempting to be as silent as possible. Although you are unable to detect any sound coming from whoever must be meeting in the main hall, you are surprised that Taehyung is going to such great lengths to be silent. 

Or maybe, you consider, he is not doing this because he feels you need to be silent in this moment. Maybe Taehyung is doing this to show you just how silent this door is so that you can store the information for later. Although you certainly feel paranoid for considering the notion, it does make sense that he would both reveal a somewhat secret passage to you and showcase just how secret it may be. 

And you nearly question how secretive a door presumably at the end of a hallway could possibly be, until you step out into a room that is certainly not the hallway, and Taehyung closes a panel of wall that does not look at all like a door. His fingers pass over a section along the very well-concealed crack about chest height and press in. Silently, the door unlatches and pushes forward, and you watch with your mouth hanging agape as he demonstrates opening and closing it. 

The dining room you stand in is the larger of the two. During your tour with Felix and Changbin all that time ago, you never came to this room. It was simply described as the much larger one at the end of the hall.

The scale of this room is rather enormous. It appears as if more than twenty people could sit around the long dark wood table, and the décor is very similar to the smaller room—brown leather-topped chairs with intricately carved patterns, dark wood wainscoting and blood-red wallpaper, with brass sconces and crystal chandeliers. 

You stand in the far corner along the wall containing the entrance, which is mid-way through the room, to the right. The door hangs open, and now you can hear the faint voices of men coming from down the hallway. As you step out, you realize you are at the very end of the hall. Ordinarily, this door is closed, and it is one you had never considered going into, before. 

"Come, now," Taehyung says quietly, toeing out of his shoes and bending to pick them up. 

You do the same and scurry ahead as he begins to make his way toward the large stairwell ahead and to the right. Now that you are in a part of the mansion that feels like home, your nervousness turns to nausea. 

Taehyung is no longer attempting to be silent, and he walks ahead, seemingly blocking you from the view of others as he waves to the men from over the banister of the stairwell and then straightens out. You have no desire to be perceived in any way just yet, so you prance up to the landing on your tiptoes. Listen as you try, you do not hear a familiar voice speaking. 

"Should I join you for the time being?" Taehyung asks as you reach the top, and you turn toward the master suite, swallowing thickly. 

"Yes, please," you mutter, somewhat embarrassed by how small you sound.

A warm, gentle hand rubs over the small of your back, and it is all the encouragement you need to continue forward. Although you cannot confidently guess how the others must feel about you at the present moment, you are at least grateful to have an ally in Taehyung. 

The two of you drop your shoes outside the bedroom door, and you walk ahead into the space that you have come to know as your haven. Floral and musk are light in the air, but you can only detect traces of Yoongi and Namjoon lingering. 

Taehyung walks ahead, straight to the sofa, and he reaches for the remote. It is so casual and domestic that when he turns to you with a soft smile and pats the cushion beside him, a wide, happy grin tugs at the ends of your lips. 

"I heard you like Ghibli films," Taehyung says as you walk over, and as soon as you plop down to his left, he swings his legs up onto the cushion and leans ever so slightly closer. His scent is subdued, but it is the spicy, earthy blend you remember from the night he carried you close to his chest.

"I do," you respond, staring ahead at the black screen of the television while attempting to get your bearings.

"Which have you seen, so far?"

You think back to the private jets, to Yoongi and Namjoon, and also to Jimin. Your lips fall to a frown before you school your expression and wet your lips. 

“Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away,” you respond. “And part of Princess Mononoke, but we fell asleep.”

Taehyung shifts beside you excitedly, lifting the remote and clicking through menus as he says, “Princess Mononoke is my favorite.”

This calm, gentle side of Taehyung might just be your favorite. While snarky Taehyung has been entertaining and quite suggestive, mafia Taehyung has been deadly and protective, and doctor Taehyung has been an actual savior to the family and to you so many times, this Taehyung is patient and considerate. This is the same Taehyung who held you gently in his arms to take you to a bath and to check in to make sure you still felt comfortable and safe with everything that had transpired in his sex room. This Taehyung feels like a friend.

"How long will they all be meeting?" you blurt as Taehyung finds the title and presses play. 

He shifts forward to set the remote onto the table and then sits back, placing his hand upright and wiggling his fingers. You take the invitation and slowly lower your hand into his, which he gently caresses with his fingertips. A voiceover introduces the film, but Taehyung does not seem to care about pausing or lowering the volume. 

"Hard to say," he responds softly, eyes on the foggy opening scene. "When I came to get you, they were still pretty deep into their conversation. Things like this can sometimes take all day."

"All day," you mutter unhappily under your breath. Sure, you may worry about seeing Yoongi and Namjoon, but not seeing them fills you with the same amount of angst. 

Taehyung sighs, and rather than continue delicately playing with your hand, he grabs it and twines his fingers between yours. The gesture makes you frown despite how warm your chest becomes. 

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” he says, eyes still on the screen but inattentive. Perhaps this is his way of consoling someone; perhaps, for once, direct eye contact is too much for him. 

You scoff slightly and shrug, looking down at your hands. “I’m not really sure how I’m feeling,” you admit. 

Taehyung shifts beside you, and you turn to look at him. His eyes are wide and caring, and they peer straight into your heart. All at once, you feel shy, and you rip your gaze away, to the wall just below the television as you realize he was likely not avoiding eye contact for his sake but for yours. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, filling you to the brim with sadness. 

You heavy-blink and attempt not to cry, muttering, “I injured someone I love. What’s there to talk about?”

Taehyung is quick to say, "It was an accident," but not in a way that is placating or defensive. 

"Accident or not," you begin, eyes falling to your entwined hands as you imagine all the ways in which you have caused Yoongi harm with one simple accident. With a sigh, you continue, feeling the tremble that works its way through your words. "What if I had blinded him? Or cut him somewhere life-threatening? I could have caused so much harm, I could have—"

"But you didn't," Taehyung interrupts insistently. "You did none of those things. And dwelling on all the what-ifs is not going to do you any good."

Taehyung is correct, and you are thankful for his calm, assuring presence. "I know," you utter, defeated. 

Sure, it does no good to dwell on all the possibilities, but knowing that does not make it any easier not to. 

"You've been through a lot in these past couple of months," Taehyung speaks over the movie, eyes once again watching as characters move across the screen. You see light, movement, and color, but you do not fully register anything taking place. You are not sure you could if you tried. 

As Taehyung's words settle over you, you scoff, muttering, "That's a fucking understatement."

To your surprise, Taehyung chuckles softly. Barely any sound emits, but you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders beside you. Although levity is nice, you cannot ignore the glaring truth. 

"Is it always this way?" you ask. 

This is not the first time you have asked a question like this, but you feel the need to, anyway. And when silence hangs between the two of you, speaking volumes louder than anything Taehyung could offer, unease settles deep. 

With a sigh, you close your eyes, feeling tears build. And when you admit aloud, "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this," you feel the grip on your hand loosen and then tighten.

"Do what?" Taehyung asks, although you cannot imagine he requires prompting; Taehyung knows damn well what about this situation you cannot withstand. He has been present for each moment during which your foundation has been forced to crack little by little. 

"All of this," you respond through another sigh. You pull your hand away from Taehyung's and lift your feet to the cushion, wrapping your arms around your shins and resting your forehead in the valley between your knees. 

"I love Yoongi," you mutter into the small space that warms with each of your exhales. "And Namjoon, and to an extent, all of you. But this lifestyle is killing me, and I can't take it anymore."

"Killing you?" Taehyung asks somewhat teasingly, making you crack a smile over your dramatics. 

You lift your head just enough to turn and face him, returning his fond smile with a weak one. "Emotionally, yes. I feel like I am dying."

Taehyung's smile only dips some, but his eyes remain just as bright. "Trauma tends to make us feel heavy or a little numb, but it will all pass."

"I don't want that," you bite back, feeling a burst of annoyance. "I just want to live a normal fucking life. How hard is that?"

This time, when Taehyung laughs, the sound is deep, playful, and perhaps a little mocking. "What the fuck is a normal life?" he asks, sounding just a bit defensive. 

"I don't know," you admit. "Something that does not involve gunfire and hard drugs. I can't keep watching men die. And I can't keep watching as my loved one get injured."

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes drift up and widen. His posture shifts, sitting up only slightly taller, and you hesitate before turning, scared of who you might find. 

"Knock, knock," Namjoon calls, and your heart kicks up hard and fast between your ribs. 

All trepidation you may have felt about seeing him melts, and you throw your legs to the floor and stand-spin with such a start it makes you dizzy. Namjoon stands in the doorway with a loving smile, wearing a black tee tucked into black jeans—surprisingly casual, considering he seems to have come from an important meeting. His hands, which are in his front pockets, slide out, and he lifts his arms high, asking without words for a hug. 

You run over on bare feet and hop up, throwing yourself into Namjoon's chest as your arms wrap around his neck. He bends and holds you in a tight, firm hug, groaning softly against your forehead as he squeezes and releases. 

"Moments away from you always feel like a lifetime," Namjoon utters softly, tugging at your heart and ripping the air from your lungs. You wish he wouldn't say shit like this. 

"I missed you too," is all you can bring yourself to say, and as he releases from the hug, you slide your hands to his chest, gently grip at his shirt, and bury your face against him, breathing in his scent and blocking out the rest of the world. 

The way Namjoon rubs his hands over your shoulders and arms, giving gentle squeezes, feels like gestures of impatience and makes you think he would like you to stop this sorry attempt at an embrace, but you hold on tight and close your eyes even tighter, silently insisting on just a little while longer. 

"Are you watching Princess Mononoke?" Namjoon asks over your head, resting his chin against you. 

"Watching is a strong word," Taehyung responds in the teasing tone you have come to expect but have not heard from him yet today. "Doll was mostly sitting here being sulky."

"Wow!" you respond defensively, finally releasing your hold on Namjoon to turn and glare at your so-called friend who stares back with a wide, playful grin. 

Gently, Namjoon places the side of his finger under your chin and motions for you to turn to him. "There you are," he utters sweetly as you meet his gaze.

Your heart sinks as you take in his sweet, welcoming expression. Namjoon, standing here like this, is the epitome of love, and all you can think about is how badly you need to get away from the lifestyle he is a part of before you have to watch another one of your closest friends get shot. 

Namjoon's smile falters, and he cocks his head so slightly, it is hardly a movement. Anguish rises, and you swallow it down, then make your best attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," you utter weakly, nibbling on the inside of your lip as you attempt to sort out what exactly you want to apologize for this time. "I, uh…I don't feel very good. I don't want to…I'm scared to…"

See Yoongi. 

No matter how many ways you attempt to formulate precisely how you feel, there is no way to finish that sentence, and you close your eyes in time for tears to break. 

How many more times are you going to feel hopeless and sad over Yoongi? How many times will Namjoon have to console the two of you? You are certain that the two of them—that everyone in this family—would be better off if you were not here. Clearly, this lifestyle does not affect them the way it does you, and there will only be so much that they will be able to tolerate until you become more of a burden than you are worth. 

"Don't want to, what?" Namjoon asks gently, hands rubbing from the tops of your shoulders down to your elbows and back up. 

"What if he hates me?" you mutter, tears becoming hot streams pouring down your cheeks. 

Namjoon chuckles, and you frown; now is not the time for him to be making fun of you. But his voice is soft and kind as he asks, "Sweetheart, how many times are we going to have to go over this?"

Although you know his question comes with good intentions, it only makes you feel worse. Because yes, indeed, how many times are the three of you going to have to go over this? How many times is Yoongi's lifestyle going to cause crushing grief and sadness? How many fucking times are you going to have to fear facing him? 

It's not fair. None of this is fair. 

"Yoongi is not upset with you, or with me," Namjoon insists. "So we gave him a little cut, so what? He already has plenty of scars."

"That's not—" the point, you fail to say. "I don't want—how can I look at him knowing I've given him a scar?"

Bile rises, and you feel sick. All you can picture is blood seeping from between Yoongi's fingers, blood splattering against concrete, blood staining all of your hopes and dreams a deep, menacing red. 

Taking two steps back and spinning to rejoin Taehyung on the couch, the blood seems to leave your head, causing you to wobble on your feet and crash back against Namjoon. The room is stilted and tilts to a fro, and you swallow a lump, closing your eyes tight while two warm hands steady you by the arms.

"Sweetheart?" Namjoon asks, but his voice is too distant, and although you know that he is directly behind you, holding onto you, you fear that if you responded, he would be too far away to hear you. 

Firmly, Taehyung says your first name, hand holding your jaw at an upward angle while your limbs sink heavily into the couch. When did you approach the couch?

"I'm gonna…" you mutter, mouth dry and full of cotton, body feeling a million miles away from your head as you feel the urge to faint. You attempt to look around, but light and shadow only trail and smudge uselessly. You feel like you are going to be sick, and you squeeze your eyes closed.

When you open your eyes again, you are lying on the couch, on your back. Your lower legs are propped up by pillows, and a violent shiver rocks through you.

"Ah, here you are," Taehyung says, and you turn to find him sitting on the floor beside you. His kind, disarming smile returns as he says, "You fainted, buttercup. How are you feeling?"

Sweat covers you from head to toe, making you cold and clammy and uncomfortable. "Shitty," you reply. 

"Hmm, yes, fainting takes a toll on the entire body. But at least you are shitty and alert." Taehyung holds up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Your voice is rough as you croak, "Three."

"Very good," Taehyung responds, reaching to give your cheek a tiny pinch, which you attempt to flinch away from. 

It occurs to you only now that you neither see nor hear Namjoon. When you look around for him, Taehyung softly clears his throat, pulling your attention back to find him frowning. 

"They left the room."

"They…" you begin, watching as Taehyung tongues the inside of his mouth.

"Namjoon seems to think you don't want to see Yoongi. And Yoongi…well, he's not too pleased."

"Oh."

Taehyung sits up a little higher on his knees, and in a rare moment of uncertainty, he knits his brow. "What I mean to say is, his feelings were hurt. But he isn't angry."

"No, no," you mutter, rolling onto your side and pulling your knees as high as they can go. "I get it."

"The thing is," Taehyung continues, "Yoongi has to leave town for a little while."

At this, you flinch, attempting to quickly sit up. "Wait, where? For how long?"

"He didn't say."

Although you know Yoongi is not present in this room, you look around and ask, "Has he left already?"

Taehyung frowns once more. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so."

Everything is happening too quickly, and you brace yourself to get your bearings and steady your pounding heart as you slowly stand from the couch onto your feet. Taehyung raises and holds his hands out as an offer to assist, should you need it. 

"You good?" he asks, and although you do not feel a modicum of anything you would consider good, you nod and slowly turn toward the door. 

And then you run. Your feet are sweaty and they slide against the floor, but you push forward as hard as you can, ignoring the whorl of nausea in your guts. Once at the door, you shove at it with all your strength, and when it flies open, revealing Yoongi and Namjoon standing close, muttering sweetly, you gasp; you were not expecting to find the two of them this easily. 

Namjoon stands to the left, gently cradling Yoongi's chin with both hands, and Yoongi stares up at him, hands lifted to Namjoon's sides. In contrast to Namjoon's more casual attire, Yoongi is in his usual black button-up and black slacks. 

You mutter, "Yoo—" and halt in place when he turns his attention to you, smile faltering as his one visible eye holds you in its gaze. 

Although Yoongi's hair is down and wild, you can see the black eyepatch covering his other eye. Above the patch are little black stitches that rise up to his forehead, and you worry you might faint once more. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, dropping his arms from Namjoon's sides to fully face you. 

Namjoon's hands only fall to Yoongi's shoulders, and the look he gives you is indiscernible and a little cold. You feel childish and small standing before them in Hoseok's pajamas, which are a little too big.

"I'm sorry," is all you can say as your right leg twitches in an attempt to continue forward, held back by the full-body weight of your fear. 

"I'm so glad you're awake," Yoongi says as he smiles. The ends of his mouth flinch twice, and you wonder just how forced his smile is. "Taehyung said you fainted."

You hum and nod in quick, shallow movements. All you want to do, in this moment, is run. Run toward Yoongi, but also run far, far away, and never look back—run and run until your lungs threaten to explode. But you stand paralyzed in the doorway of Yoongi's bedroom, staring at the two men who seem intent on keeping their distance.

"Where are you going?" you manage to ask, swallowing a ball of saliva and anxiety. 

Yoongi hesitates, and as Namjoon drops his arms from his shoulders, Yoongi straightens his posture and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

When was the last time Yoongi has held this much distance? When has Yoongi been this reserved and shut away? You regret not wanting to see him before, and now that he is holding so much space between the two of you, you cannot, for the life of you, move your feet forward. 

"I have important business," Yoongi simply says, licking his lips and saying no more. 

"Ah—are you…will you be gone long?" you try, chest trembling and terrified. 

Yoongi merely shrugs. "Hard to say."

"Oh."

Yoongi stares a moment longer, back tall and straight and hands tucked away. The hair on the left side of his face falls slightly over his eye, encasing the eyepatch in a dark shadow, making him appear far more dangerous than he already is. 

And then, as if a switch is flipped, his shoulders relax, his smile softens, and he pulls his hands from his pockets. You let out a deep, shaky exhale and silently beg him to step toward you. 

"I'll miss you," you try, knitting your brows in desperation. 

Yoongi smiles widely and finally takes a step. "I will miss you, as well," he says as he closes the distance, and all at once, your legs turn to gelatin and wobble beneath you before stepping forward. 

You all but throw yourself into Yoongi's embrace, body sagging and crashing into him as he wraps his arms around you, pinning yours uselessly to your sides. Yoongi's musk is strong and overwhelming, and you nuzzle against his chest and neck, breathing deeply enough to choke on it. 

"I'm sorry," you mutter into him, feeling tears well once more. "I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

Yoongi whispers, "Shhh," as his hands rub over your back, and you lift your hands just enough to let your fingers catch at the fabric around his hips. 

"I'm sorry I have to leave so abruptly," Yoongi says, "but the guys here will take good care of you. I shouldn't be long."

"Please be safe," you beg, horrified of what could happen to him while he is away. 

"I have a team coming along to look after me," Yoongi says. "But I can assure you, I will be fine. I can't say much for now, but I will be meeting with the Hong Kong crew, and we will be working on a deal of sorts so that an attack like that will not happen again."

"A deal? In…in Hong Kong?" 

Yoongi releases the hug and takes a small step back, then lifts one hand to the bottom of your chin. Looking up into his one eye makes your heart squeeze, but even with an eyepatch covering the other, he is the prettiest man alive. 

"Please don't beat yourself up with worry while I'm away," he mutters sweetly. "I'm not upset with you. Had I gotten to that man before you, I would have done far worse to him for hurting one of my best friends. And besides," Yoongi chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side, "this is going to make for an amazing story when Jimin wakes up."

"Stop," you grumble, lifting your hands to shove at Yoongi's sides, but not hard enough to make him do more than sway. 

"You are so brave," Yoongi says, smile widening. "You shot that man right between the eyes. And I know it had to have been traumatic and horrendous, but I'm still proud of you."

As it stands, watching the man who hurt Jimin die by your bullet is so low on the list of traumatic events that play through your mind. Perhaps you have compartmentalized the event, and once the dust settles and Jimin wakes back up, you will begin to fully process the weight of the event. Or, perhaps you are already becoming as numb to being a killer as the rest of the family. 

"Did it hurt?" you ask, feeling the urge to lift the patch and see his wound.

Yoongi shrugs. "Nah, my adrenaline was so high, I didn't feel a thing. I had no idea I was cut until the blood began to cloud my vision."

The thought of Yoongi's beautiful face dripping with blood makes your stomach churn, and you mutter, "Oh my god."

"It only hurt a little while Tae was stitching me up."

"Why the eyepatch?" you ask, despite feeling nervous to know the answer. But you were told that Yoongi's vision had not been altered.

"Taehyung felt that the stitches along my eyebrow and lid would heal faster if my eye remained closed as often as possible."

Again, your stomach tosses. Did he say lid? As in his eyelid?

"Oh."

"And it makes me look cool, right?" Yoongi adds, waggling his one good eye, making you laugh despite how sad the entire situation feels. "Don't worry, darling. I couldn't dream of being upset with you two."

You exhale deeply and wrap your arms around Yoongi's ribs, throwing yourself once more into his chest. Yoongi chuckles deeply and drapes his arms over you, cradling your head and shoulder gently in his large, warm, familiar hands. 

"I won't be gone long," Yoongi insists, pressing a kiss against your temple. "But I will miss you deeply while I am away. So please text me as much as you want to, alright?"

"Alright," you respond, feeling tears build once more. Yoongi insists he will return safely but you fear for the worst; how could you not?

"Seokjin and Hoseok will be coming with me, which leaves Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jeongguk here with you. We have shut down Paradise for the time being, and there will be a strong security detail on the property, but don't feel like you have to stay cooped up inside. The streets of Seoul are safe."

"Hmm," you utter, finding it hard to believe him. But you do not press him. Yoongi said he would reveal more about what deal he has struck once he returns home. 

A single-note ringtone chimes loudly, and Yoongi lets out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

"That's Seokjin," Namjoon says, and you remember that Namjoon has been standing here the entire time, causing guilt to pang within your guts. 

"Time to go," Yoongi mutters sadly against your temple, attempting to pull from the hug, only for you to squeeze tighter. Yoongi chuckles as he adds, "I'll be home before you know it."

"I miss you," you complain, overwhelmed with sadness. You are so sick and fucking tired of crying, but more than that, you are tired of missing Yoongi.

This time, when Yoongi pulls away, you allow it, tilting your head to slot your lips together. Yoongi holds steady against you, kissing slow and sweet and only skirting his tongue across your bottom lip after several long, warm seconds. You sigh, dropping your mouth open, but Yoongi kisses your temple and backs up further, giving your arms a squeeze before releasing you. 

"I love you, darling," he says, and your heart sinks as you all but whisper, "I love you, too."

Yoongi spins on his feet and takes two steps to Namjoon, giving him a chaste kiss and muttering something deep and indiscernible. Namjoon responds with, "Of course, baby," and then Yoongi leaves, taking the steps two at a time without turning back. 

Something feels off, but you are too exhausted to dwell on it, so you turn your attention to the man who is still around, stepping forward and reaching for him. Only Namjoon takes a step back, halting your movements as he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. 

"Sorry," he says, eyes on the floor and not on you. "I just need a moment. I'll be back."

Without another word, Namjoon runs down the stairs, and you watch as he disappears around the banister, toward the front door. Your right arm is slightly lifted, hovering near the empty space Namjoon had just occupied. 

As the seconds tick by, you struggle to fully comprehend what is happening. Clearly, both Yoongi and Namjoon are upset about something, whether that upset is directed at you or not, and they are not doing the best job of convincing you that things are fine. And, truth be told, you do not need everything to be completely fine. But you expect them to be honest with you, or at the very least, to not shut you out. 

Your hand drops to your side, and you spin on the balls of your feet, listlessly allowing your arms to fan out in the motion, making your way back to Yoongi's bedroom. Rather than return to Taehyung and Princess Mononoke, you hang a left toward the large window that overlooks the front driveway. 

Standing forehead to forehead, Namjoon's face is angled just slightly, looking down at Yoongi, whose expression is somewhat unreadable with his eyepatch. He appears to be smiling as they kiss, and the urge to cry increases. You remind yourself that the two of them share a past and that they deserve tender moments without your presence, despite how badly you wish to be included. 

"Everything alright?" Taehyung calls, and you sniffle, blinking away the tears that threaten to break. 

As you turn to face him, you take a deep, fortifying breath and nod, doing your best to smile. Your had been balling your fists inside the long sleeves of the pajama shirt, and you open and close them, wiggling your fingers as if attempting to release tension from your limbs. 

"I guess so," you admit, not fully willing to say yes or no.

"I imagine Namjoon is trying to convince Yoongi that he should go along," Taehyung says. "He always does."

"Ah," you respond; that does make sense.

"The two of them used to be inseparable and now Namjoon seems to get separation anxiety easily."

You begin to return to the couch, feeling somewhat lighter. Of course, Namjoon would want to join Yoongi on whatever this trip is; it sounds like it might be a big deal. "He should go."

Taehyung hums and regards you quietly, then pats the cushion where you had been previously sitting before he returns to watching the movie. With a little more pep in your step, you join him, plopping down on the couch as you sigh and swing your legs up to the left so you can lean your head against his shoulder. 

Although you watch the screen, nothing fully registers. Only Taehyung's warmth and gentle musk hit your senses and linger. Briefly, you even close your eyes. 

Outside, vehicle doors shut, and the metal gate scrapes open. Moments later, two heavy feet stomp up the stairs and into the bedroom. You keep your head on Taehyung's shoulder but open your eyes, watching a confrontation between the two lead characters on screen while Namjoon comes into view in your periphery. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, and you shrug, offering a brief smile while you say, "Sure."

Namjoon walks in front of the television, rounding the small wooden table in front of the sofa, then plops down at Taehyung's right. Although you keep your eyes ahead, gaze barely on the actual movie, you can see and feel Taehyung lifting his arm and shifting his legs to accommodate Namjoon curling up to his side. 

"How did I get stuck with the children?" he teases as his left arm gently wraps around your hip. 

You smile, unable to hold back a little chuckle. "Pure luck, obviously."

"What's the other child up to, today?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung asks, "Jeongguk?" and Namjoon hums. 

"He's become obsessed with working out again."

"He doesn't wanna join us?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung sighs. "He likely will eventually, but I think he's struggling to deal with everything that has happened. With Jimin in a coma and Paradise temporarily closed, he feels directionless. And, of course, he worries about Jimin." Taehyung squeezes your side as he adds, "He also feels guilty for taking his anger out on you that night."

Jeongguk undoubtedly did appear angry, but considering the circumstances, you can hardly say you blame him. You suppose you are willing to accept that Jeongguk may not be upset with you.

"I get it," you mutter, letting your gaze drop to the wall below the television. "I don't think any of us were in our right minds."

Seconds pass, then Taehyung quietly adds, "He will be very happy to know how you feel."

As the three of you sit and watch the film, your eyelids grow heavy, and it takes almost no time at all for you to fall back asleep.

The events of last night play in your mind once more, and as soon as the man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell, you flinch awake, gasping for air. As the room comes into focus, you realize you are lying on the large sofa with Namjoon, who is behind you with his head propped up onto his hand, watching television. You sigh into wakefulness, heavy-blinking and yawning, and Namjoon pauses whatever drama he has put on and gently wraps an arm over your hip. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says just above your ear, and you groan as you stretch your legs out, then begin to wiggle around until you are facing him. 

Namjoon still wears the black tee, and you reach up and gently trace along the exposed skin of his bicep with your fingertips, playing with the hem of his sleeve. 

"What time is it?" you ask, staring up into Namjoon's warm, dark eyes. 

"Evening," he responds, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. "You knocked out."

"Did Taehyung go home?"

Namjoon nods, humming, "Mmhmm. Christopher wanted to meet with him, and check in on Jeongguk."

"Surprised I slept that long," you grumble, feeling another yawn work its way through your chest. "I keep dreaming about last night."

"Taehyung mentioned he would speak with Christopher about sleep aids. I am always happy to supply Xanax if needed."

Although you are unsure whether you want to create a dependence on Xanax to get you through the night, the prospect of getting restful, dreamless sleep is wonderful. 

"That would be nice," you say, burying your face against Namjoon's chest. 

You half expect Namjoon to continue watching his show, but silence hangs as he settles his head down onto a pillow and wraps both arms around you with the bottom one sliding under your neck. 

"Sorry if I seemed a little cold earlier," Namjoon finally says. "Letting Yoongi leave on his own when we are in the midst of a showdown between both families is just…a lot. I know he's a grown adult and can take care of himself, but I also hate not being able to be there."

Just as Taehyung had said.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Namjoon seems to hesitate and then says, “He asked me to stay with you.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mean to suggest that I don’t want to be here with you,” Namjoon adds quickly, and although you believe him, it is clear that he would rather be by Yoongi’s side. 

“I get it,” you say, feeling no need for Namjoon to explain himself. “But you could have gone with him,” you add, feeling Namjoon stiffen. 

The air feels tense and awkward, but you make no move to give either of you space. Even if Namjoon would rather be comforting Yoongi, you still crave his warmth. 

“I guess what I mean to say,” you continue, “is that I have the others here, too. Of course, nobody compares to you and Yoongi, but if you need to be by his side, I’m happy here with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Don’t feel obligated to babysit me.”

Namjoon scoots back, and you look up to find a somewhat angry, sad expression on his face. "Why would you say it like that?"

Without thinking, you roll your eyes, watching as his eyes go wider before you add, "You know what I meant."

"You think that the only reason I am here is because I feel the need to coddle you?"

Your patience is wearing thin, and despite finally getting a little sleep, you feel far too tired to be bickering with him over something like this. 

"Namjoon—"

"No, don't Namjoon me. I'm not your fucking babysitter, I'm your partner. I'm here with you because I enjoy being with you."

"You're here with me because Yoongi asked you to be," you clarify, speaking from his earlier words. "Which is fine, I don't mind that being the case. But if you're going to be miserable with worry, you may as well have joined him."

Namjoon sighs and begins to pull away entirely in an attempt to sit up. Feeling resolved, you slightly roll away, giving him space to do so. You are not, however, willing to let him walk away before you are done speaking your mind. 

"It's fine if you want to go with him, and I don't understand why you chose not to. You and Yoongi have a history, and I get that. Not everything you do will include me."

Namjoon sits sideways with his legs outstretched because you have not bothered to move in any way that will actually allow him to escape easily. You prop your head up on your hand with your elbow bent against the pillow and watch as Namjoon's expression oscillates from frustrated to contemplative. 

Finally, Namjoon speaks up, voice sounding small as he says, "If you don't want me around, just say so."

At this you huff, drop your hand and head to the pillow, and begin to roll away, letting your leg drape over the edge of the couch before you steady yourself enough to sit up. Namjoon has not moved, and you are in no mood to face him. It feels like anything you say will be bent to suit whatever this emotional streak of Namjoon's is, and you do not have the energy to play along. 

But then petulance rises, and you stare at the dark blue fabric of the sofa beneath you as you say, "I wanted you around last night. And Yoongi. But I was shut out, and now he's gone."

"Sweetheart—" Namjoon begins, and you shove what is left of the cream-colored blanket that covers your legs, eager to get it the fuck off you as you stand and disregard him.

"I don't want to talk anymore," you grumble as you make your way to the ensuite. 

You never bothered to wash your face or tend to your hair after last night, and you decide in this moment that you would like to shower. For all you know, the blood of some unknown dead man could be on you. 

To your surprise, Namjoon says nothing. You don't bother closing the door behind you as you begin to strip from your borrowed black pajamas and find a fluffy white towel which you hang on a hook beside the shower door. Not bothering to close this door either, you walk to the back wall of the shower and turn it on, feeling a cold blast of water that quickly turns scathing hot before you turn the nob and make it a more reasonable hot.

Although your movements are slow, you take care of your hair and wash your body, standing still periodically with your face tilted up to let the water rinse over you. You know that whatever this tiff you have with Namjoon is, you will need to talk about it at some point. You just wish that things could be calm and easy, in the meantime. After last night, you desperately need things to be calm and easy. 

Finally, when you are just about to shut the water off and get out, you hear a belt buckle hitting the tile floor, followed by a quieter sound of a soft garment being dropped alongside it. Your pulse quickens, but you do your best to seem unaffected by Namjoon's presence—at least until you are able to gauge what kind of a mood he is in. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft and calm—deep.

You turn just enough to find him standing in the doorway nude, and you rove your eyes down past his pecs and tummy—along the curves and scales of his dragon tattoo—to his glorious thighs and the thick cock that hangs heavy between them.

"Be my guest," you respond with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as you turn back to the stream of water.

Namjoon enters and begins to wash his hair. He uses the tangerine shampoo that reminds you of Yoongi, then he slathers a cloth with the same citrus floral soap that also reminds you of Yoongi. You have no reason to linger in the shower, but Namjoon is close, the steam filling the room leaves you a bit dizzy, and you are touch-starved. 

"Baby," you mutter, turning to lean your back against the cool tile wall and get out of the hot stream of water. 

Namjoon is washing his legs, bent in half, and he looks up with wide eyes. There are so many things you want to say and ask for and command, but all that falls from your lips is, "I miss you."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then he bends further to finish washing his ankles and one foot after the other. And then he straightens out, chucks the cloth to the side, and steps forward, into the stream of water, pausing a moment to rinse. 

"I miss you, too," he says with his eyes closed and face tilted up against the stream, rubbing his hands over his hair and causing a waterfall of suds to cascade over him. 

Feeling overcome with emotion and resolved to put whatever transpired earlier behind you, for the sake of your sanity if nothing more, you reach out toward Namjoon, who is close enough that you are able to graze your fingertips over his tummy. 

"Let's just…not argue, okay?" you practically plead. "We've both been through a lot. We need each other."

Namjoon continues to rinse off a moment longer, then he steps through the stream and looms over you, dripping wet with a blazing fire in his dark eyes. His voice is deep and insistent as he says, "You have me, sweetheart."

"Dizzy," you mutter, reaching to trace your fingertips listlessly over his skin. "Let's get out."

Namjoon nods and shuts the water off, then he leans in close and presses his body against yours, capturing your lips with his. When was the last time you and Namjoon kissed? It feels like a lifetime ago, despite it probably only being last night, and you sigh into the feeling, overcome with a surge of affection. 

His movements are languid and firm, pressing and claiming but in no hurry. You grab Namjoon's ribs with both palms and gently squeeze at his skin and muscle, rubbing slowly, allowing your eyes to flutter closed. 

As soon as all you see is darkness, the images return in quick, nauseating succession. A man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell and another from your bullets, turning into red and brown and greyish-pink mush against concrete. Blood seeps from between Yoongi's fingers, and you gasp, opening your eyes and mouth wide as your hands hover at Namjoon's sides. 

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm sorry," you sob, hot tears pouring from your eyes as the black and gold bathroom returns to view and Namjoon's dripping wet honey skin greets you. "I can't—every time I close my eyes, I see—I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Namjoon whispers, wrapping his arms around your head and shoulders and pulling you close, engulfing you in wet warmth. "It's okay, don't apologize."

"I feel like I'm going insane. I can't keep reliving this."

"Want me to call Christopher?"

You nod as you sob, holding Namjoon close and doing your best to keep your eyes open. 

"Let's get out of here and put some clean clothes on."

Namjoon's hands slowly caress over your back and shoulders, and you allow yourself to breathe into the feeling and relax. You have tensed up so much that your shoulders are raised high, and you inhale deeply, attempting to calm your nerves and work up the energy to leave the bathroom. 

"Okay," you finally breathe, sniffling and taking deep, slow breaths. "Yeah, let's go."

Slowly, steadily, you are able to leave the shower with one of Namjoon's arms holding firmly around your waist. He towels you off, kneeling on the rug and tile floor, making sure to get every last drop, and then he wraps his clean towel over your shoulders and uses yours to very quickly dry himself. 

His phone is sitting on the countertop beside the sink, and he picks it up, thumbs around for a moment, and then takes your hand to lead you out into the bedroom and into Yoongi's closet. By the time the two of you are dressed, the doorbell rings. 

"I'm going to go answer that," Namjoon says, turning his body fully toward you and taking your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, and although you mostly feel emotionally drained, his touch is nice. "Do you want to meet on the couch in here, or the one downstairs?"

"In here," you respond automatically, disinterested in fussing with the stairs or sitting in the huge, empty main hall of Yoongi's home.

"Alright," Namjoon says. "Go have a seat and we'll be right back." 

The world tilts ever so slightly as you move from the closet to the couch. The cream-colored blanket hangs halfway to the floor, and you bend to lift it and drape it over your legs, holding it close to your chest once you sit. Perhaps this is an unprofessional way to meet with the family psychiatrist, but you care more about your comfort than his, if you are being honest. 

Moments later, a man dressed in family blacks enters the room with a bow, greeting you warmly. Although Namjoon enters with him, he leaves almost instantly, insisting that he will be right outside if anyone needs him. 

You feel nervous to talk to Christopher, but he has a kind smile and soft giggle, and he speaks with an accented lilt that reminds you of Felix, instantly easing you into conversation. And even though you are nervous about this process and what it may entail, you do your best, if only for the sake of getting some goddamn sleeping pills. 

Kitten: Landed in Hong Kong. How is my darling?

You: I miss you a lot. It feels like I hardly saw you before you left. 

Kitten: I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I will be home in a few days.

You: I look forward to it. I spoke to Christopher earlier and he recommended an antidepressant to help me sleep.

Kitten: Have you been having nightmares?

You: Yeah, he says it's PTSD. It's been really bad. Even when I close my eyes while fully awake, I see flashes of what happened. I just want to stop remembering. 

Kitten: I know what you mean. I'm glad you are taking healthier steps toward blocking those memories than I have, in the past. 

You: Yeah, well, I have Namjoon's Xanax supply on standby, just in case. 

Kitten: Good, good. Is Namjoon there? I want to give him a call. I would like to hear your voice, too.

You: He's here, watching over my shoulder like a needy little hawk. Please call before he drives me insane. 

Kitten: :] Will do, darling. Just give me a few minutes. 

You are in Seungri's penthouse once again, only as soon as you get into his bedroom with the glass of whiskey in hand, it is Yoongi who slaps you across the face and commands you to get undressed. 

Your empty hand twitches above your thigh, itching to grab for the switchblade, and Yoongi's hand lingers over your cheek, thumb pulling down on your lip. 

“Have I said something to anger you?” you ask, and Yoongi laughs as he drops his hand to his side. 

“You no longer fear me,” he drawls as he turns back to his drink and grabs onto the glass with his lithe, pretty fingers, repeating the words Seungri once said. “Used to be I could put a little scare into you, but now you stand your ground. I like that about you.”

Yoongi skips all the chit-chat that Seungri usually dives into and instead downs his drink and begins to undress. His scars shine brightly when hit by the golden light of the room—his bedroom—and you undress without removing the blade from your thigh or trying to conceal it at all. 

“What a pretty girl,” Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

You step aside and pat the bed—Yoongi's bed—with your hand, purring, “Hop up, sir.”

Yoongi is hard and leaking, cock pointing to the heavens as he settles against his black and gold comforter, and you get up onto the bed and seat yourself in one swift movement, pressing him so deep into you that a shiver works its way along your spine. 

Slowly, you rock your hips, reaching with both hands to drag your fingertips over the scars closest to his heart. "Pretty," you moan as your blunt fingernails turn sharp as talons and catch on the raised skin. 

Then, in a flash, you reach up and slash over Yoongi's eye, quick as a serpent and sharp as glass. Yoongi groans and writhes beneath you, and you—somehow holding your switchblade—continue to fuck him hard and fast while you press the tip of the blade deep into his skin and drag it down over his eyelid, to the apple of his pretty cheek. 

"Mine," you snarl like a beast, thumbing over the pooled blood and smearing it over his face, watching as it mats in his hair. "Forever mine."

You wake up gasping, covered in sweat and stuck in place under warm, heavy limbs. It is still dark outside, and as you pant and attempt to sit up, Namjoon groans and slowly twists away, removing the weight that holds you down. 

"Fuck," you mutter, frustrated. You had taken one of the pills Christopher prescribed and it made you somewhat loopy and very tired—a promising prospect, at the time. 

Namjoon lifts an arm and points to the bedside table to your left, grumbling something incomprehensible before his breathing returns to light snores, and you turn to find two boxes sitting next to a tall glass of water. First, you grab your box of medication and put it back. Then you grab the other, made out to Namjoon, and you pull out a packet and rip it open, freeing one large white pill and gulping it down with a mouthful of water. 

Rather than lying back down to sleep, you roll back toward Namjoon and begin to shimmy down into the sheet, yanking his legs to spread and crawling between them. You can still feel Yoongi inside you from the dream, and you want Namjoon in your mouth now, before you lose your mind. 

Namjoon hums and yawns as you paw at his semi-soft cock, and once he cracks an eye open and moans his consent, you yank his briefs away and swallow him down into your throat, eagerly sucking and stretching your lips, moaning and humming as he trembles and groans beneath you. 

With eager hands, Namjoon yanks at your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside before gripping at your shoulders and arms in what feels like an attempt to get you to stop sucking his cock.

"Fuck me," he begs, and you do as you are told, grinning with drool-slick lips as you crawl and crash into him, needing to be held up while you angle his tip just right and begin to fuck yourself on him. 

The stretch is so intense, you shiver and fall forward, palms sliding against his sweat-slicked chest and gripping onto the pillow beside his head. Namjoon takes your hips in both hands and begins to fuck upward, holding you in place to use as you bob and moan like a marionette built only for pleasure. 

Namjoon changes positions and holds you tight, fucking you from behind while you lie half on your back and half on your side. By the time you cum, you are dizzy and sinking deep into a drug-induced fog, lulled by the feeling of lips and warm breath against your neck. 

"Don't stop," you mutter as you slip from consciousness, just as eager for Namjoon to cum but unable to hold on and see to it that he does. Although you think his movements have halted and he has repositioned you to rest against his chest, you could also be imagining it as everything fades to black. 

"I wonder how Jeongguk is doing," you mutter, holding your steaming cup of tea to your lips and staring out the bedroom's back window. Namjoon has purchased two new chairs that match the couch because last night, you said you wanted to be able to look out at the gardens.

"Ask him," Namjoon responds somewhat flatly. 

When you look at Namjoon, his brow is knit, and he stares out the window as if he is looking at nothing. He spaces out like this from time to time, and although you are curious about what is on his mind, you feel a bit too disconnected to ask. The antidepressants work wonders for your anxiety and post-traumatic stress symptoms, but they are also anti many other things, including happiness and concern. Christopher insists you need a few weeks to a month to adjust. 

"Fine," you respond with a sigh, disinterested in talking to Namjoon if he is going to be so short with you. 

You pick up your phone, which you keep nearby at all times in case Yoongi reaches out, and you dial Jeongguk's number. The last time the two of you spoke was the night you sliced your boyfriend's pretty face open, and although you are somewhat nervous to hear his voice, you try not to overthink it. 

Jeongguk picks up on the second ring, and you can hear him panting as he says, "Doll. Hey."

"Hi," you respond, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, your mouth feels really dry. "Am I interrupting anything?"

There is a pause, and you hear the bubbling sound of him drinking from a water bottle, followed by a low Ahhh. "Nah, just working out. But I could take a break. Do you need something?"

"No," you clear your throat and sit up, repositioning your legs on the large blue chair. To your right, Namjoon sighs and gets up. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't spoken since the—"

"Right," Jeongguk interrupts, voice low and rough. "Listen, I'm sorry for—"

Disinterested in apologies, you mutter, "No, it's fine. I get it."

Silence hangs. You want to see Jeongguk again. You want to ask him to come over, maybe ask whether he would like to take a walk through the garden or drive into town for some ice cream. You miss his smell and the way his eyes brighten up like tiny galaxies when he smiles nice and big.

"Do you—" you begin just as Jeongguk says, "Hey, so, I was thinking—" and you both stop, chuckling and waiting for the other to speak. 

"Go ahead," you urge him. 

Jeongguk hesitates, then says, "I don't even know. If I finish that sentence, I will probably regret it the moment the words come out of my mouth."

You glance over your shoulder when you hear the sound of a belt being buckled and find Namjoon getting dressed in blue jeans and a tan sweatshirt near the closet. He keeps his eyes down as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and does not say a word as he turns and leaves the room. 

"Just tell me," you respond, eyes on Namjoon's retreating form. 

"I was going to say that I think we should spend some time apart," Jeongguk says, voice sounding somewhat sad.

Your chest clenches, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs, returning your gaze to the window. "Oh."

"But even as I say it, I don't believe it. I would sprint over and see you right now if you asked me to. I miss you all the time."

This makes you feel shy, and you nibble your lip. "It's only been a couple days."

"A couple of really shitty days," Jeongguk responds, to which you scoff. "This isn't a conversation to have over the phone, but, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say what you did when Jimin was injured…it was pretty incredible. And mildly horrifying. And really fucking sexy. All accidents aside."

This makes you laugh, and you stare out the window, at the familiar statues, fountains, and trees. You think about how easy it would be for Jeongguk to come see you, and you almost beg him to. 

"I miss you too," you finally say, feeling a lightness in your chest that hasn't been there for days. "I wasn't planning on telling you that, because I didn't want to inflate your ego, but that is the reason I called."

"Come see me tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks, voice high and hopeful.

"What happened to spending time apart?" you tease.

Jeongguk chuckles. "I told you my conviction is shit. I fucking miss you, alright. Don't make me say it again."

You would love to see Jeongguk. "Alright. Any particular time?"

"Nah," he responds easily. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Okay."

The deep, sultry tone you know all too well returns when he says, "Wear something slutty," and your cheeks warm instantly. 

"Jeon Jeongguk!"

"Come on, doll. It's been almost a fucking week. I need that pussy."

How easily Jeongguk cycles through his moods gives you whiplash, and you shake your head, chuckling quietly. "Forget I said I miss you. I take it all back."

"Nah," he teases, "you miss me."

With a sigh and a smile, you mutter, "Thank you," feeling a fuzzy warmth in your chest. 

You think you hear Jeongguk scoff. "For what?"

Namjoon comes into view outside, walking along the rightmost garden path. His steps are slow and meandering, legs swinging and kicking at gravel, and his left hand is in his jeans pocket while he holds his phone to his ear with his right hand. 

"For making me smile," you respond, feeling a sadness that is hard to pinpoint as you watch Namjoon. "It hasn't been easy."

"Namjoon hyung not keeping you company?"

Namjoon turns to the left and crouches down in front of a rosebush, tilting his head and smiling as he speaks into the phone. It is a smile that reaches his eyes and, even from afar, the prettiest you have seen in days. 

"Nah," you sigh. "Namjoon's in his emo era. I think he regrets staying with me while Yoongi is away."

"Don't put it that way," Jeongguk interjects, and you are quick to say, "I get it. It's fine. I can't have the same history they do, especially not overnight. But it's hard, you know? We both have this gaping wound from missing the same person—worrying over the same person. And instead of turning to one another for peace, we're growing sick of each other."

"There is no way in hell the Kim Namjoon I know is sick of you; he loves the shit out of you. But the love he has for Yoongi is going to be a little different. I have definitely seen the way he shuts down when forced to worry from a distance."

You hum, watching as Namjoon glances up to the window. Although you have no idea whether he can see you, you stare back, hoping that he can. And then his eyes squeeze closed as he laughs and spins on his heels, making his way toward the hedge maze. 

"I miss him and I spend every day at his side."

Jeongguk hums. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

"I started medication, too," you continue, rambling somewhat because it is nice to have someone to talk to. "And it's been great to stop feeling so anxious all the time, but I also feel kind of numb."

"How's your sex drive?"

You scoff, shaking your head. "God, why is that your first concern?"

Jeongguk laughs. "Look, I've heard that it can be a side effect!"

"You're so fucking annoying."

"Well?"

"I don't know," you respond somewhat petulantly. "I guess I have an okay sex drive, but it's hard to gauge when the person I would be having sex with is being so distant."

"Fair. Well, we'll have to test it tomorrow if you're up for it."

Another scoff rocks through your chest, and you shake your head at his audacity. "Fine. If I'm up for it, we'll test it."

"Good."

With a sigh, you decide you have nothing more to talk about. You still don't really know Jeongguk very well in terms of his hobbies or interests, and you have no clue what else you could discuss casually as friends. "I'm going to let you go. Maybe I'll see what my emo Joon is doing in the garden."

"Sounds good," Jeongguk says. "Call me whenever you're up for it, and come by tomorrow if you want to."

"Okay," you smile, biting your lip. "I will."

You: I took a nap today and dreamt Namjoon became a forest sprite, and that he lived in a big, sturdy tree. These medications make my dreams super vivid and strange. 

Kitten: That sounds like our Namjoon! :] What about the nightmares? Are they helping with that?

You: For the most part. But sometimes one sneaks in.

Kitten:  Well, I'm glad you are finding at least a little relief, darling.

You: Talk soon? I miss your voice.

Kitten: I'll call tonight. 

Namjoon gives up trying to get you to do anything for the rest of the night, frustrated by how intent you are on keeping your phone clenched in your hand with the ringer turned high. You check the screen periodically to see what time it is, and eventually fall asleep on the couch, clutching your phone to your chest, waiting for Yoongi to call. 

When the morning comes, you wake up and check your phone, feeling an instant surge of sadness from the lack of notification. All you want is to hear his voice for five minutes, but you are afraid to initiate a call in case he is busy. You're afraid of getting in the way or being annoying. So you wait. 

You: You never called. :( I hope to hear from you today, if you have time.

"You should try to eat something."

Slowly, your eyes blink from your phone to the bowl of fruit in front of you, to Namjoon. He sits across from you on the bed cross-legged with a wooden tray of breakfast foods between you. You hardly remember him bringing it into the room or sitting in front of it, and you really have no appetite, but you lift a cube of watermelon to your mouth just to appease him. 

"Not hungry," you mutter as you wrap your lips around the fruit and bite. It is far too sweet, but it is also refreshing, so you chew and swallow, then reach for another. 

Namjoon sighs, making you feel inexplicably worse. "Is it the medication?"

With a shrug, you stare ahead at the various cubes of melon and the plain omelet that has undoubtedly gone cold. "I guess. It's everything."

"Yoongi?"

You hum. "And you. You're distant. It sucks."

"I know," Namjoon responds somberly. "But so are you."

"Yeah."

Slowly, you lift a piece of melon to your mouth, stopping as your phone dings.

Kitten: Sorry, darling. Been busy. Talk soon! 

With a frown, you pop the fruit into your mouth, slowly chewing as you type your response.

You:  Are you coming home soon?

Then you fall back onto the mattress with your legs bent and feet planted. You should probably let Jeongguk know that you aren't in the mood to hang out today. 

You: Namjoon says the meetings are going well and that the deal is looking good. I hope this means you'll be coming home soon. 

More than a few days pass in a fog. The medication has you feeling so disoriented some days, that all you do is sleep. And when you sleep you dream. 

Sometimes, you are in a library, but it bends and twists and becomes shaped like the many mansions you have spent time in over the years. Men who have used and harmed you in the past are there, always attempting to win you back and claim you for themselves, always chasing you through rows and rows of bookshelves, and you are always searching desperately for Yoongi. 

The worst dream that comes is one wherein Yoongi is dead. News breaks that his body has washed up in the Han, and before he can even be buried, Ryujin and Hyungseo are at the front door surrounded by men strapped with guns, pulling heavy suitcases behind them, moving their things into the master bedroom and throwing your belongings out the windows. 

But at least you no longer dream about the night Jimin was shot. You no longer watch Yoongi bleed. At least you can be thankful for a little reprieve. If only Yoongi would answer your messages, maybe you would stop worrying so fucking much about him. Maybe you would stop searching endlessly for him.

You barely register Namjoon's face buried between your thighs as you stare at the ceiling, feeling the Xanax sink in deep. Tonight, you want dreamless sleep for a change. You just want to forget about Yoongi, and about everything else. 

Namjoon's tongue is skilled and brilliant, but it does not make you cum. You warned him going into this that there was a chance it wouldn't happen, and he happily agreed to try, anyway. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, the vastness of the bedroom feels suffocating. It is too big for three people, much less two. It is especially far too big to be in when you are already feeling lonely. 

"Baby, I don't think I'm gonna cum," you groan, reaching for his head and gripping gently with your fingers. 

Namjoon's lips and tongue slow and then stop, sucking loudly at your clit and labia before letting you go with a wet smack. 

"It's alright," he insists. "Just wanted to try."

Without another word, Namjoon shuffles out from between your legs and lies beside you, turning to face away. You sigh, curve toward Namjoon's back, and grip your pillow tight beneath your head, eager for sleep. 

Sitting on the large blue chair by the window, you stare at your phone, trying to decide whether today is the day you finally see your friend. There is no reason to hesitate to call him, and yet, you do. 

"I should see what Jeongguk is up to," you mutter, mostly to yourself. 

Namjoon sighs and snaps the book in his hands shut, then he turns to you with a frown. "All you do is talk about him, so just go see him, already."

His candor surprises you, and you exhale deeply, feeling a heavy weight pressing on your shoulders. "Are you mad that I want to see him?"

"No. I'm just tired of hearing about it."

He definitely sounds mad. 

"Okay," you respond, disappointed. "I won't talk about it anymore."

As you get up from the chair and walk away from the large window and the sunshine it allows in, you have half a mind to go into your room and change into something pretty to go frolic in the gardens by yourself. It has been far too long since you have left the house. 

So you pad out into the mezzanine, doing your best to ignore how huge and quiet and empty the mansion feels, and you make your way to your bedroom. 

Although it is not your intention, you shove the door closed, slamming it rather loudly. Then you spin on the balls of your feet, walk over to the bed, and fling yourself down onto the yellow and white comforter, deciding a nap sounds good. 

You wake up to the sounds of car doors closing outside and the front door opening and shutting, muttering, "Yoongi!" to yourself. 

Unsure how or when you managed to get into bed in the master suite, you toss aside your concern and the black and gold comforter and roll out of bed, feet hitting the soft, light blue rug. Although you are in a regrettable state, unsure when you last showered because you can barely keep your days straight anymore, you are undeterred as you run through the master suite, out into the mezzanine, and down the stairs, bare feet slapping against cold marble. 

As you fling yourself around the banister and continue toward the main hall, all you see are Namjoon and Seokjin standing in the entrance, and you halt, body swaying forward before tensing. 

"Yoongi?" you ask, unable to form a single other coherent thought. 

Seokjin smiles sadly and approaches with his hands in his black slack pockets, and you feel nausea hit your guts like a brick. "Can we have a word?" he asks, holding his arm out, hand extended toward the back door. 

You glance over your shoulder, feeling uncertain; does he mean to go out by the pool?

"S-sure," you say, willing your feet to move but finding you are unable to as your gaze finds Namjoon, dressed once more in blue jeans and a soft sweater, typing into his phone with a frown. 

"Yoongi decided he needed to stay put a little while longer," Seokjin says lowly, still holding his hand out. "Mind if we step outside?"

"Outside," you mutter, nodding your head robotically as you turn and face the back doors. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Seokjin takes the lead and approaches the sliding glass door, unlocking it and pulling it open. It is strange to enter the pool area with it empty of an employee, and you step out onto the rough gunite and pad over to the nearest pool beds. 

The sun is bright, the birds are chirping, and you feel extremely on edge, finding that every minuscule sight and sound has your shoulders lifting higher and higher toward your ears. So when Seokjin sits before you, pulls a flask from his breast pocket, and hands it over, you quickly take it, drinking from it without bothering to ask what is inside and wincing slightly as bitter, semi-sweet whiskey hits your tongue.

You sigh through the intense flavor as you hand the flask back, asking, "Why didn't he come home?"

Seokjin takes a slow swig and says, "That is a question I am not quite sure I have an answer to. I can only surmise the reason based on the behavior I witnessed him exhibiting during our stay."

"Which is…?" you attempt to lead Seokjin to tell you before you lose your cool. Seokjin is far too calm, sitting in his standard black uniform with his outgrown, dark hair pulled delicately off his forehead. 

"Which is that he began quite optimistic, daresay, happy at times, only to self-isolate and become very quiet. We were meant to leave days ago, but he kept stating he wanted to stay and 'figure it out,' whatever that meant. When I decided I could no longer stay, he wished me farewell and refused to explain what was on his mind."

"And the deal?" 

Seokjin stares for a moment, then leans forward, offering you the flask, which you take. "Has he told you anything about it?"

You shake your head, lifting the flask toward your lips, pausing to say, "He said he would tell me about it when he came back."

"Hmm, well, then I suppose I can tell you that the meeting went well."

The whiskey is not entirely unwelcoming, but the headiness is somewhat overwhelming. You hand the flask back to Seokjin, waiting for him to continue. He takes a swig and holds the flask in his grasp, resting his hands against his thigh. 

"Hyungseo has agreed to a truce, and her group will no longer be bothering any of us. Ryujin has also agreed to the truce, since it is still largely her family in charge, even if she has allowed Hyungseo to take over. As far as the details, well…I would rather let Yoongi explain."

Although this is good news, you feel strange about what Seokjin is telling you. Were Hyungseo and Ryujin in Hong Kong, as well? Could they still be there? When you blurt the questions out, Seokjin snickers and shakes his head. 

"The ladies were present for our discussion, but, as far as I know, they both returned home days ago."

You wonder if that could be the reason for Yoongi's sour mood. Perhaps seeing Ryujin still affects him. The prospect makes you feel sick. 

"I feel like there is a lot of context I am missing here," you grumble.

"There is," Seokjin responds simply. Then he sits forward, resting his wrists against his knees. "You know, the offer to work for them in Busan stands. In fact, you could be a huge asset for us, since we need someone there making sure they aren't conspiring in spite of our agreement."

"I…don't know," you say. 

"Well, give it some thought," Seokjin responds in a chipper tone, taking one more sip from his flask and holding it out for you. 

You shake your head and hold your hand up, muttering, "Thanks."

"Seems you could use a bit of a vacation, if I may be so bold as to say so. Six months on the coast might do you some good."

"Just getting accustomed to new medications," you grumble, unsure why you bother telling him any of this, in the first place. 

Seokjin hums. "Yes, that process can be a bit disorienting. Try to remember to drink water and eat, even if it suppresses your appetite. We don't need you withering away."

You nod listlessly, barely listening to Seokjin, asking, "Do you think he's coming home soon?" before you can stop yourself. 

"Likely," Seokjin responds with a sigh as he stands. "It's hard to say with Yoongi. Once he gets in his head, there is no telling when he will come out."

"And if he doesn't?"

The sun is bright behind Seokjin when you look up at him, and you lift your hand to block the rays from your eyes, squinting. 

"If he doesn't come home, then perhaps you and Namjoon will have to go and get him."

If there is anyone in this family willing to get onto a plane and head for Hong Kong at a moment's notice, you are sure it is Namjoon. "Okay," you mutter, dropping your hand and your gaze, feeling tired and a bit empty. 

"Take care little wolf cub," Seokjin says as he turns to return inside, and you nod listlessly as you shift around on the pool bed and curl in on yourself, chasing the urge to sleep.

Tonight, even the Xanax does nothing to keep your nightmares at bay, and when you wake up screaming from the sight of the man's head exploding, you find the bed empty, causing your pulse to spike. 

You glance around, find the room empty, and then reach for your phone. Your heart sinks when you see a notification from Namjoon and none from Yoongi, and you heavy-blink, thumbing over your bright screen to open and read the text.

Joonbug: Sorry if you wake up and I'm not there. I'm having a hard time sleeping and didn't want to keep you up, so I walked home. I'll be back in the morning. <3 Call me if you need anything.

Truthfully, you find it hard to blame Namjoon. Twice, you startled him with your screaming, and he has been complaining lately about struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep. Plus, he has been seeking a lot more alone time. 

You: Woke up screaming again, so you made the right call by leaving. 

You half expect Namjoon to already be asleep, noticing it is just before two in the morning. So when he begins to type, you are surprised. 

Joonbug: Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Want me to come back?

On one hand, you think it would be nice to have someone around. But on the other hand, you are not sure it is Namjoon's attention that you crave. Although you love him dearly, the two of you seem to be on different planes of existence lately. Ships passing quietly in the night, both emotionally and physically. Spending too much time together right now might do more harm than good. 

First, you dial Yoongi. Hearing his voice would do wonders for your emotional state, and he is the first person you want to talk to about what has been on your mind. But the phone rings and rings, and eventually goes to voicemail. "This is Min," the somewhat robotic tone of your boyfriend's voice says—disconnected and not meant solely for you the way you need his voice to sound. "Leave a message."

You hang up and hover your thumbs over your screen, attempting to gather your thoughts. Yoongi is unreachable, and Namjoon is distant, but perhaps Jeongguk is free. 

Jeongguk answers on the third ring, "Hey, doll? Late night booty call?" 

You graze your teeth over your lip, laughing as you say, "Maybe. Would you be into that?"

A scoff followed by, "Fuck yes I would be!" makes you smile widely. Then he adds, "Lemme just run it by Tae, alright?"

"Of course," you respond, realizing you should probably also discuss it with Namjoon. "Otherwise, we could just…I don't know…get fucked up? Even Xanax isn't cutting these nightmares and I just wanna get out of my head for a while."

"I can definitely help you with that," Jeongguk responds happily. "Lemme text you in just a minute, okay? After I speak with Tae?"

"Sounds good."

Jeongguk hangs up, and you smile to yourself, opening your neglected conversation with Namjoon. 

You: Actually, I was thinking about finally hanging out with Jeongguk. Kinda just want to get drunk, maybe get a little high. I need to get out of my head. As long as you don't mind.

Joonbug: Understandable. I hope you don't think you have to ask me for permission. I definitely want you to feel free to go spend time with him and have some fun. 

You: If things get a little heated, though…are you okay with that?

Joonbug: If what you need right now is to fuck Jeongguk, I fully support that.

You: Thanks, Joonbug. <3 I love you!

Joonbug: I love you too, sweetheart.

Gguk: Tae is down with whatever we feel like doing. Come to mine? Do you remember how?

You: Joon gave me his blessing, too. :) I think I remember.

Gguk: On second thought, stay put, and I'll come get you. It's dark out. 

You: Sounds good. I'll put on something slutty in the meantime. 

Gguk: Oh, fuck yeah! Be there soon!

Thankful that you had the energy to shower before your several failed attempts at sleeping earlier, you jump out of bed and run to your bedroom. Hanging amongst the sundresses is a little black satin slip dress with spaghetti straps and lace along the edges, and you peel off Namjoon's oversized dark grey tee and toss it to the floor. 

The dress fits snugly, squeezing your breasts and waist, creating inviting curves and cleavage, and you opt not to wear any panties underneath as you marvel at the high slit up your right thigh. 

You apply a little eye makeup, both because it feels like it has been a lifetime since you have looked in the mirror and liked what you have seen, but also because you like the thought of it streaking down your face later, should Jeongguk find some delicious reason to make you cry.

Once you are satisfied, you begin to make your way out to the mezzanine, and you are surprised to find Jeongguk standing at the foot of the stairs; you didn't hear him come in. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, feeling your heart pound as his lips pull into a hungry grin. He wears a white tee and black basketball shorts, and his short dark hair is unstyled and a little disheveled. You stare at him, unsure whether he is real. How long has it been since the two of you crossed paths? Far too long. 

"Dollface," Jeongguk groans, toying with his lip ring in his teeth. "God damn you look amazing."

As you reach for the railing and begin down the cold marble stairs, you feel a slight tremble in your limbs. Jeongguk watches you like a predator eyeing his prey, and you have forgotten what it feels like to be caught in a stare this hungry. 

"How do you feel about doing some molly?" he asks when you are halfway downstairs, and you hesitate, cocking your head to the side. 

"I don't know. What does it feel like?"

"Euphoric. Calming. Mixed with coke, it'll really wake you up and make you feel alive."

That does sound good, and you smile. "Alright. I'm down."

"I was thinking we could break into the pool bar and chase it down with some champagne, then walk over to my place?"

"Alright," you respond as you reach the last step, standing at eye level with him. 

Jeongguk reaches for your thighs, rubbing his hand up the sides, and you wiggle away in part because his gentle touch tickles, but also to keep him from discovering that you are not wearing any panties. If he finds out this early on, the two of you will never make it back to his place, and you are curious to see how he lives. 

As you side-step and scurry down to the landing, Jeongguk complains but obliges, turning on slippered feet and walking ahead to deal with the glass door. You are barefoot, and you tiptoe on the rough ground as Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and opens a mini fridge. 

"Bingo," he sing-songs, holding up two bottles of champagne with a wide grin, as if the task took any effort at all. Still, you clap excitedly for him as he rounds the bar with both bottles in hand. 

"I bet this dress would look great soaking wet," Jeongguk says, eyeing you once more like a ravenous beast while making his way to the nearest table. 

He plops down sideways on one of the pool beds and sets the bottles down, then pats his leg for you to join him. You make your way over and sit gingerly on his knee, keeping your legs closed and avoiding the urge to straddle him while he works one of the bottle corks open. 

"Let's keep the dress dry, for now," you bargain, reaching up to rub your fingertips along the undercut just above his ear.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip while pulling out the cork, and when it comes loose with a loud pop, he opens his mouth wide, then grins. With one hand, he holds up the bottle and fishes into his pocket with the other. Then he pulls out a little clear baggie with six tiny capsules full of purple dust. 

"They're pretty small portions, so you can get a feel for it," he says as he hands the baggie to you and you begin to work its tiny plastic zipper open. "If it feels good and you want more, we can take more."

"Okay," you mutter somewhat nervously as you reach out and take a tiny capsule in your fingertips. 

"Ahhh," Jeongguk exclaims, and you look up to find his mouth open wide and tongue hanging open. 

Although you know he is asking for a pill, you lean in close and lick the length of his tongue nice and slow, marveling at the way his taste buds feel. Then you lift the pill and place it right in the center, watching as he seems to struggle to comprehend what just happened. 

With a giggle, you say, "Go on…swallow like a good boy," and Jeongguk takes a long swig from the champagne and then fixes you with a curious gaze. 

"Your turn, beautiful," Jeongguk says, making your cheeks blaze. "Be good for me and swallow. Or are you more of a spitter?"

Jeongguk's predictability is a perfect match for how corny he is, but although you roll your eyes, you lean close and ask, "Aren't you eager to find out?"

"Of course I am," he mutters, a hairswidth from your lips, and you turn your head just far enough to the side to pop one of the molly capsules onto your tongue. 

Jeongguk lifts the champagne and says, "Open for me, doll," and you tilt your head and part your lips, nervous but excited for him to pour champagne into your mouth. 

You expect him to make a mess, so when it spills over past your lips, you simply swallow what has been poured into your mouth and roll with it. Jeongguk licks from your chin to the crease of your lips, making an even wetter mess than the dribbled champagne, and you giggle as you attempt to stand from his lap, only to be held in place. 

"Not so fast," he says as he digs through his shorts pocket and holds up his little metal cocaine vial. "It'll take a little bit for the drugs to kick in and I want my senses heightened now."

"Oh?" you ask, cocking your head as you watch him scoop a considerable pile to snort into one nostril, followed by a second pile into the other. Jeongguk sighs and tips his head back, pressing the side of his knuckle against each nostril as he deeply sniffs inward once more, then he fixes you with a wide smile and offers you the cocaine. 

You trade him, handing off the little baggie of molly capsules, and in swift movements, you take the little metal vial with a spoon attached to its cap, and you snort a small pile into each nostril, then hand it back. As you press against the side of each nostril with your knuckle and inhale, Jeongguk watches you with eyes already somewhat glazed over, and you stand from his lap, smoothing out your tiny dress. 

"Eager to get away from here?" Jeongguk asks, gaze downturned slightly. 

With a shrug, you glance around and realize that yes, you really are eager to get away, at least for a little while. "I guess so. I've been cooped up."

"Alright," Jeongguk says, reaching for your hand. You take it, then grab the unopened bottle of champagne in the other. "Let's get out of here."

Jeongguk is careful and meticulous in the way he locks up the back door, then he takes your hand again to walk through the main hall, to the front door. He slides out of Yoongi's slippers and into some sandals, and you put on the pair of black ballet flats. 

Once outside, Jeongguk closes and checks the door, then he takes your hand once again and leads you around to the left, toward Seokjin's place. The night is so quiet you hear the sounds of crickets in the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot. 

Jeongguk sighs and squeezes your hand, and you hum questionably, squeezing his back.

"Nothing," he says, turning to look at you. The path opens near Seokjin's home, and the two of you hang a left and continue along the side of the house to the back, where more trees separate each property. "I guess I'm just surprised sometimes."

"By what?" you ask, turning to look at Jeongguk, who turns to meet your gaze. The cocaine buzzes through your system while a nasty little drip can be tasted at the back of your throat.

"By you."

You scoff, feeling somewhat shy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you did hate me when we first met," Jeongguk begins. 

"Because you were an asshole," you add. 

"And…I don't know. I was surprised when Yoongi and Namjoon were so open to the idea of us. Even tonight, I expected hyung to say no and keep you all to himself."

"Ah," you mutter, eyes on the ground. You begin to walk between more dark trees, enshrouded by their shadows, and you feel grateful that Jeongguk came to get you so that you wouldn't be walking this path alone. "Namjoon and I have been kind of distant, so I'm not surprised."

"Still?" Jeongguk asks.

"Yeah. Still."

"Damn. That sucks."

It does suck, but you feel awkward talking about it. "It's whatever," you lie. "He wants space and went to his house tonight, which is why I called you. Didn't really want to be alone."

"So I'm second place, wow," Jeongguk teases, squeezing your hand.

"Third when Yoongi is around," you tease back, turning to flash a playful grin. 

The rest of the walk is quiet, and when you reach Jeongguk's home, you are a bit surprised by the number of sports cars in his driveway—four, to be exact. His house is a carbon copy of the others, but there is practically no greenery in the yard, only metal workout equipment, including a pull-up bar and some other items that are tough to make out in the dark. 

Jeongguk lets go of your hand as you approach the front entrance, and he punches in a long passcode before opening the door wide and nodding for you to enter. The living room light is already on, and as you toe out of your shoes, you find a scarcely decorated room with a couch pushed far too close to a television, and a punching bag sitting in the center of the space. 

You fail to bite back laughter, and when Jeongguk takes your hand and leads you up the stairs, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," you mutter, eyeing the empty walls that have never been painted from their original white. "Just didn't take you for such a bro."

"Shut up," Jeongguk gripes, yanking on your arm and making you laugh even harder. 

The upstairs hallway is just as plain, and as soon as he releases your hand and switches on the light, illuminating the bright white space, you squint and turn it off.

"I need fucking sunglasses if you're going to do that," you chide.

Jeongguk continues pulling you down to the room at the end of the hallway, making you wonder what might be in the other rooms. Does he have sex dungeons just like Taehyung? Perhaps a matching throne?

Rather than switching on the overhead light in his master suite, he thumbs around his phone and opens an app. "What color would her highness like the bedroom to be?" he asks with a grin, and you get onto your tiptoes to see the screen and then press where the color wheel is purple. 

Slowly, the lights come on in an inviting deep purple glow, and you nod approvingly, then enter the space. At least his bedroom is decorated with dark walls and bedding, and some photos hung here and there. 

The four-poster bed is straight ahead, and to the right are two large leather chairs. Along the far wall, beside a large window, is a big wooden x with leather restraints on each end—two for wrists and two for ankles, you surmise. 

As you step forward, your entire body feels a little off-kilter. It is slight but enough to make you dizzy, and you hold your arms out, clenching the bottle of champagne as you mutter, "Whoa."

"Starting to kick in?" Jeongguk asks as he walks past and sets his bottle on a bedside table. 

"Maybe," you respond, unsure what it feels like for the drug to kick in. 

Jeongguk approaches, takes the bottle from your hand, and you find yourself leaning and swaying slightly with each of his movements as if your body feels desperate for his warmth. 

"Will you kiss me?" you whine, watching as Jeongguk's mouth pulls into a dopey smile and then sharpens into something much cockier. 

He turns away to place the champagne bottle down, then returns in several large steps, taking you gently by the face with both hands and pressing his lips against yours. Jeongguk groans as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp. You let your mouth fall open wide, feeling excitement and arousal simmer through you, and Jeongguk licks across your tongue hungrily, moaning and growling as he tastes and teases. 

"Fuck," he pants as he releases the kiss, pressing his forehead into yours. "You are amazing. And I'm definitely coming up."

You feel tingly and electric, filled to the brim with desire and love and the need to touch and taste and enjoy. Jeongguk is warm and floral but musky, and he tastes like sour cocaine and bittersweet champagne. 

"Thirsty," you mutter as your lips chase after his.

Jeongguk kisses you more but walks you backward, toward the champagne. Rather than reach your target destination, his ass bumps into the edge of his bed, and you giggle into one another's mouths before you peel yourself away and reach for the open bottle. 

Suddenly, you feel as if you have run a marathon, and you have to stop and catch your breath. "I feel kind of overwhelmed," you admit, to which Jeongguk hums and says, "That's normal."

With the champagne in hand, Jeongguk leads you over to the large window at the far end of the room and opens it, letting in a nice cool breeze. The view is a massive, empty expanse of land with the city in the distance, and you stare across the shadows of trees and hills. 

"I feel trapped in limbo," you mutter, unsure why you are saying it aloud. 

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. When he asks, "Why is that?" his voice is soft and sweet. 

"I love Yoongi and Namjoon…and I care a lot about the rest of you," you turn your head, rubbing the tip of your nose against his, "especially you."

"But?"

With a sigh, you turn your gaze back to the dark outdoors. "But I don't feel safe, and I have to be heavily medicated just to sleep, now. I lost several days to the fog of starting a new medication, and both Yoongi and Namjoon are distant. I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers and it scares the shit out of me."

"Maybe you need to get away for a little while. Take a trip."

You hum and consider what he says, pushing out the thought of Seokjin's words from earlier, but then scoff, shaking your head. "Take a vacation just to return to a lifestyle of violence. I don't know, I mean, what's the point?"

"Seokjin hyung says they struck a deal with the girls in Busan. That will drastically cut back on the violence."

"But there are other families in Korea," you say without having too much evidence to back up your statement outside of comments here and there made by the men while in your presence over the many months you have been here. 

"Everyone else is neutral, and we do business with them from time to time. Our only adversaries are overseas, and it is not often that the yakuza comes to fuck with us."

A small comfort considering how quickly things could escalate, should they choose to hop on a ferry and start shit, but you accept it for now. This conversation feels too heavy, and you want to be light.

You do feel somewhat light, made of overcooked noodles, but also heavy and buoyant, and you sway your hips and close your eyes. "We need music."

"What kind of music?" Jeongguk asks, grabbing his phone and holding it out for you. 

"Anything," you mutter, "pick something."

After only a few seconds, soft R&B comes on, and the music surrounds you in a way that feels like speakers are placed along each inch of the room. You dip and sway a little deeper, following the music while dragging your ass over Jeongguk until he begins to hiss and grip at you. 

"Gonna make me hard dancing like this," he groans, nipping somewhat forcefully at your neck. 

"I think the pills have dulled my sex drive, just like you said," you complain as you lift the bottle of champagne and take a drink. The carbonation cloys your senses, but you are thirsty, and you continue drinking until you are forced to stop and take a deep breath. When you turn and hand off the bottle, Jeongguk's pupils are bloodshot, and he looks a bit sleepy. "I haven't been able to cum. It's making me lose my mind."

Jeongguk drops to his knees and sets down the bottle, and you lean back against the window, body angled with your pelvis outward, in his face. As he rubs his hands up your thighs, pushing your short black skirt higher, you watch as his eyes widen and mouth drops open. 

"No panties," Jeongguk muses, looking high as shit and happy as can be. When his gaze lifts and finds you, he shakes his head and heavy-blinks as he mutters, "You are fucking incredible."

Without another word, he sits high on his knees and licks over your cunt, sucking your clit between his lips before absolutely devouring you. The surge of pleasure that rocks through you causes you to tremble and jolt forward, and you splay your hands against the wall in an attempt to hold yourself steady. 

Jeongguk is sloppy yet practiced in the way he eats you, alternating wide, wet laps and quick little flicks of his tongue. He zeroes in on your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave through you, aided by the molly to feel better than anything has felt in days.

Although the pleasure is intense and enrapturing, your high builds and builds, only to plateau at a devastatingly high peak. You want to cum so badly, you begin grinding your pussy against Jeongguk's mouth and moaning loudly. Jeongguk grips onto your thighs and does his best to keep up with your movements, slurping and humming like a man enjoying his first meal after a long fast.

"Finger me, Jeongguk," you beg, desperate for release.

Jeongguk does as he is told, plunging his fingers hard and deep. He finds your sweet spot and fucks into it nice and fast, and that is all it takes to push you over the edge, spraying your release against his face and your thighs. Rather than slow or stop, he continues to finger fuck you while lapping at your clit, forcing you to cum once more, and you scream between deep gasps for air. 

Euphoria drowns you in its tidal wave, and you begin to spiral, suddenly needing to slow down and catch your breath. "Too much," you whimper as your knees buckle, and Jeongguk stops his movements and stands, caging you in against the window. 

"How do you feel?" he asks, pressing his lips against yours and filling your senses with your own tangy, heady taste and scent. 

"Great," you respond against him, then turn your head, still finding it hard to catch your breath. "But a little overwhelmed."

"You're probably still coming up, here," Jeongguk says, taking your hand and pulling you away from the wall while rubbing his mouth and chin clean with his forearm. It feels strange to walk, and you stumble a bit into him, leaning your weight against his chest. 

"Let's just slow dance a little," he suggests with a sweet smile, and you drape your arms around his shoulders, incapable of denying him anything. Jeongguk gently grabs your hips and begins to lead you right to left in a small circle. "How is this?"

"Nice," you sigh with a smile, resting your cheek against his chest. "Thank you."

You are unsure how long the two of you stay like this, but several songs cycle, and your high continues to build until it finally seems to even out. Although you feel less jittery and heavy-light, you still feel somewhat otherworldly, finding you have an overwhelming urge to divulge all your deepest secrets to him. Evidently, he feels the same.

"Do you think you could fall for someone like me?" Jeongguk asks, breaking a long silence and taking you by surprise. 

If you were sober, you would be absolutely panicking—possibly even running for the hills. But being this high, you simply shrug and say, "Of course, I could. Don't ask silly questions."

"Shit," he mutters, nuzzling his face against your neck as he chuckles, and you wonder if Jeon Jeongguk is actually shy? "That was too easy. And probably not something I should have asked."

You laugh as you hum and mutter, "Yeah, probably not. I don't think any good could come of us confessing those types of feelings to one another, all things considered."

"True," Jeongguk says, laughing as he stands straight and looks you in the eye. He is absolutely beaming as he says, "I'll just keep it to myself, then," and pretends to zip his lips shut.

The thought that Jeongguk could be confessing to something so large should horrify you, but all you can do is smile. You are too high and too happy to unpack anything of this magnitude right now. 

After another song, you feel the sudden, aching urge to tie Jeongguk to his bed and make him fall apart. And that is exactly what you ask him with your eyes wide and pleading. 

"Let me tie you to your bed and make you fall apart? Please?"

Jeongguk gasps and grins, nodding as he says, "There is nothing in this world I could want more."

You begin to paw at his shirt, lifting the bottom hem over his head and tossing it to the floor. Your eyes linger on the black shapes etched from his shoulder down to his fingers, then you continue the task at hand and reach for the waistline of his shorts. 

As the garment falls to the floor in a heavy thud, undoubtedly from his cell phone being in his pocket, Jeongguk steps backward, leaving it in a pile, and you realize he also wore nothing underneath his clothing. Jeongguk bends and fishes his coke vial out, then begins slowly backing between the large leather chairs toward his bed. 

"No panties," you tease, closing in on Jeongguk, who continues to walk backward toward his bed. You reach your fingertips out, dancing them over his inviting hip bones. "You are fucking incredible."

Jeongguk chuckles, fixing you with a shy smile that makes your heart melt. When the backs of his legs hit his bed, he lets out a little snort-laugh, and then he begins to unscrew his vial and sniff two piles of cocaine into each nostril. He hands the drugs to you, then he turns and begins to pull a strap out from under his mattress, which you are absolutely unsurprised to see. 

"There's one on each corner," he says, and you snort two little piles into each nostril, then close the vial tightly and toss it onto the comforter. You take the hint and round the end of the bed, fishing around for another strap, and when you find it, you pull it out, and set it on the corner of the mattress. 

As you move to the head of the bed and find the last strap, Jeongguk gets onto the mattress, on his hands and knees and crawls into the center. "Want me lying down or sitting up?" he asks, and you lick your lips before saying, "Lie down."

Jeongguk settles in the center and pulls his hands over his head, and you get onto the bed on your knees and begin to restrain him, starting with one wrist, and then leaning over him with your chest hanging in his face to restrain the other. 

To your surprise, the straps seem to be the perfect length to keep Jeongguk spread without there being much give. Once his ankles are in place, you crawl up to him and settle between his legs, bending close to breathe warmth against his hard, pretty cock. 

Jeongguk whimpers and writhes in his restraints, and you lean to the side, slowly dragging your lips over the soft, supple skin of his thigh. He smells musky and familiar in a way that clenches at your heart, and suddenly, the weight of his confession moments ago begins to sink and settle through you, digging its claws in deep. 

Do you think you could fall for someone like me? Asked so simply and casually, as if one asks about the weather. 

Perhaps it is the combination of substances working their way through your system, but you begin to feel claustrophobic and nauseous, and you squeeze your eyes closed. Something simmers and sticks in the back of your throat, and all you can do is gasp for air. 

"Doll?" Jeongguk asks, voice lilted with worry, and you swallow the lump and plaster on a smile, determined to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. You must do it; you need to.

"Just a little overwhelmed," you mutter, dragging your lips and teeth over the meat of his thigh, toward the musky shaved pubes at the base of his very inviting cock. 

You wet your lips and drag them up and down his shaft, flicking your tongue out to coat it in as much saliva as you can muster, but your mouth is fucking dry from the drugs, and it stresses you out. 

"Need the champagne," you whine as you sit up quickly and turn to hop-slide off the bed. 

But you may as well be landing on the moon as you teeter and sway and stumble. You hold your arms out somewhat for balance and struggle to remember just how gravity works as you get your footing and rush over to the neglected champagne bottle by the window. 

All the while, you attempt to pep talk yourself, chugging the tepid bittersweet liquid that is so heavily carbonated it fills your mouth like a gas, until you have no choice but to burp. And then you return to the bed, repeating in your head that this is something you want to do more than anything, and that it should be okay for you to love Jeongguk, if only for tonight. 

Tomorrow you can unpack it and spiral accordingly, but tonight, you need to just enjoy the ride. You want to enjoy the ride. 

Either Jeongguk can sense that something is off, or it is written clearly on your face, because his brows are knit, and his head is tilted upward as far as it can be with the restraints holding his arms splayed up and out. 

"You're so handsome," you slur as you approach the bed, and set the bottle down on the small table, then you grip onto the comforter with both fists and hoist yourself back up onto the mattress. You mean it when you ask, "How did I get this lucky?"

You straddle Jeongguk's chest and lean forward, giving him an eyeful of a glistening wet pussy that he can't reach with his hands or lips while you lean forward and swallow his cock whole. Your mouth is still a little too dry, so you press him in nice and deep, forcing yourself to slowly gag from lack of oxygen while saliva pools and pools under your tongue. 

"Fuck, holy shit, doll," Jeongguk whimpers from behind you, urging you on further. You suck his cock forcefully, desperate to milk him, and listen to him sob. Jeongguk is vocal, moaning and bleating and begging while he writhes in his restraints, hips bucking and trembling beneath you. 

You stick a finger into your mouth to wet it, then reach under Jeongguk's balls to rub little circles against his rim, and he loses it—yanking on the restraints while singing long, pretty notes of pleasure. 

Without warning, he cums in your mouth, and you gag, letting some of it hit your soft palate before dripping past your lips. But you swallow the rest, sucking on his tip and moaning while he shoots rope after rope onto the back of your tongue. 

"Holy fuck," Jeongguk sobs. "Oh my fucking god!" 

You feel elated and higher than before, humming and pleased with yourself for making him cum in what has felt like mere minutes. 

"Please let me taste you, noona," he begs, and you sit up slightly and back into his face, shoving your pussy and ass against his mouth and only giving him enough room to lick and suck desperately, but not enough room to breathe. 

When you move away, he whimpers, and you decide that you want to be even more high than you already are. The goal was to get fucked up and out of your head, and here you are, lodged so deep in your swirling thoughts that you fear you might just go mad. 

"Mind if I do more coke?" you ask as you crawl forward past Jeongguk's torso and settle haphazardly between his legs. The vial is right where you left it, and you reach for it before he can respond. 

You snort two little piles into each nostril—four total—and then screw the lid back on before tossing it aside and turning to face your prize. Jeongguk is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes blown wide as the heavens, and you reach for his half-hard cock and begin stroking it back to life. 

"Damn, it takes you no time at all to get hard again," you mutter with a smirk, falling slightly forward as you attempt to straddle and crawl up him. 

Jeongguk's expression is a mix of desire and concern, and when you finally have your hands planted on both sides of his head, you lean low and close, breasts spilling from your dress, as you take his bottom lip between his teeth and suck hard enough to make him shout.

"You really fucked me up with what you said," you chuckle against his lips, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. The overwhelm has returned, and you press your forehead against his, fighting for air. "Why did you—" you croak, suddenly overcome with the urge to sob. 

You do not want to fall for Jeongguk. You cannot do something so foolish.

Jeongguk struggles in his restraints, yanking his hands downward and attempting to sit up, but rather than help him, all you can do is lean into him and cry. Everything is so fucking messed up, and you need it to go back to normal. You cannot possibly stay with this family if things do not go back to some semblance of normal; being here and feeling so much worry and heartache is eating you alive. 

"Noona, undo my restraints," Jeongguk urges, yanking his wrists uselessly downward. They are only cloth straps held together by velcro, but the angle and distance of them make it hard for him to reach one hand with the other. 

Jeongguk struggles, and all you can do is sink further, burying your face into his neck while a never-ending stream of sadness pours from you. It feels strange to be this devastated because you also feel an outpouring of love and affection—happiness that is so strong and present, it fucking terrifies you. 

"I can't—" you sob, unsure what you are referring to, just certain that everything is too much and all of it needs to stop. 

"Dollface, hey," Jeongguk pleads before saying your first name, "please let me out of the restraints."

"Jeongguk," you whine, tears and snot coating your face, which smear onto his neck. "I can't do this anymore. I can't stand it."

Jeongguk groans and strains hard as he reaches to undo his wrists, and you cling to him as all the emotion drains from your face with loud heaving breaths and deep, rattling sobs. You hear the tearing of velcro, one after the other, and then Jeongguk wraps his arms tightly around you while sitting the two of you up, cradling you in between his thighs. 

"Oh, baby," he mutters lowly against your temple, hands and arms doing their best to comfort you while he gently rocks back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea the drugs would make you feel this way."

"I'm sorry," you whine, drawing out each syllable, feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed. The sweat on your skin has turned cold, and you shiver in his arms. "I feel really, really fucking happy too, but it just…I'm so scared, Jeongguk. I'm so fucking scared."

 “It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you,” Jeongguk says your name, placing a firm, slow kiss against your temple, making you shudder out a sob. “I’ll hold you until you feel better.”

You know that he is here for you—that he would hold you through absolutely anything. And that just adds to the ineffable pile of terrifying possibilities. 

“I’m too high to sleep,” you whimper, sniffling pathetically as your exhale shakes through your mouth. 

“Me too, baby, don’t worry,” Jeongguk chuckles, squeezing you tightly in his embrace. “I got you, don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

True to his word, Jeongguk does hold you until you feel better. For hours, you sit on his bed, muttering through half-truths about your fears and your loves, your hopes and your dreams. When you shower off the cold sweat, you lean into his chest, and when he dresses you in a sweatshirt and joggers that swallow you whole, he keeps at least one arm around you at all times.

As the sun rises high, you finally stop shivering from the comedown, Jeongguk carries you home on his back, and you smile as the sunlight warms your cheeks. The only time Jeongguk lets go of you is when you find Namjoon standing out by the front door, smoking a joint. 

Namjoon’s smile shines as bright as the early afternoon sun, and as you slide down Jeongguk’s back, setting your feet onto the ground, you run into Namjoon’s arms, throwing yourself into him, catching a whiff of welcoming musk and the skunky stench of weed. 

“Sweetheart, did the two of you have fun?”

You smile brightly and only half-lie when you say yes because, despite all the tears, your heart feels so full. 

“Thanks, Jeongguk,” you say as you release Namjoon and turn around. 

Jeongguk stares at the ground for a beat, then he looks up and smiles. There is an unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and you fight the urge to run back to him. 

“Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface,” he says with a wink, clearly doing his best to cover whatever else is going on in his mind. 

You watch as Jeongguk waves and spins on his heels, walking back to the gravel path. 

“You two are so cute,” Namjoon says sweetly as he engulfs you in a warm, familiar hug. 

"Is that so?" you ask as you spin in Namjoon’s hold and wrap your arms around his middle. 

He seems to have lightened up, and he hums in agreement, making you smile. You feel eager to enjoy your day with him. You have cried rivers in the past several days, and all you want is to breathe easily and feel happy. Even if someone important is missing. 

“I spoke to Yoongi,” Namjoon says, making you gasp and take a step back. His smile is soft and inviting, dimples creasing his cheeks with bloodshot eyes, and you stare expectedly. “What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?”

Frantically, you nod, feeling your heart boom in your chest. Namjoon takes one more drag of his withering joint and flicks it out into the driveway.

“He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person,” Namjoon says, eyes trailing left to right as if reading your face. “Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away.”

You wish you could believe him, but there is physical proof of something you have done to potentially make Yoongi want distance. But you smile and accept this explanation, for now. 

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon asks, releasing his hug, leaving just an arm around your waist. 

“Starving!” you exaggerate, feeling an empty pit grumbling where your stomach should be. 

The front door is propped open, and Namjoon kicks out of his slippers while you leave behind your ballet flats, then he leads you into the kitchen. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so i had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce. Does that sound good to you?”

You glance up with a grin and say, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon digs his fingers into your ribs, making you double over and squeal, grumbling about how he is not that bad of a cook. 

With your hands held high, you shout, “I submit! You’re an amazing cook!” while tears pool in your tired eyes. 

Namjoon halts his attack on your sides and ushers you along on wobbly legs to the kitchen. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" he asks brightly, tugging at the oversized hoodie near your ribs. 

You nod and look up at his bright, smiling face, basking in this moment of happiness. You tell yourself that, above all, you desperately need everything to work out and be okay, if only so that you can continue to have moments like these with the people you love. 

No matter what, things need to be okay. 

It's about time we get it straight Gimme a minute if it ain't too late It sounds about right, this can't be forced, babe 대충 무리였나봐, babe It shouldn't feel like this 애먼 기분만 해친 채 Hurts too much already 버티기가 이만큼 힘든데 Stay with me 'til the end of the day

Maybe we Could be Slow dancing Until the morning We could be romancing The night away

🎵 visit the playlist

a few little side notes: i didn't want to name what drug mc is taking because she's not having the best time, so i didn't want to stigmatize medication that anyone takes irl. like...we all know Xanax is used in wack/recreational ways, so that one feels ok to say by name, i guess?

anyway...the experiences mc has while on a cocktail of medications/drugs may not look the same as how your body may react to these, and that is okay. please do not bother me about how your experiences may differ with xanax and other medications, or molly and medications. (but for the sake of argument, i will say that sometimes when you do antidepressants and molly, the serotonin high hits too hard and fast and it can cause a very fast physical and emotional crash, which is why mc does not experience the pure euphoria that you might come to know and love from that drug.) it feels so weird to me when people hit me up to argue about this kind of stuff because everyone's bodies and brains are different, so please don't. this is a work of fiction above all else.

all that being said, i know i have said it before, but i will keep saying it: this story is sad, sad, sad from here on out. the overall end goal is something happy, but it won't feel that way for a while.

reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this site, but likes are also super appreciated!!! thank you for reading, i love you!!!

a namjoon pov scene takes place between this chapter and the next one, where he devises a plan to get Yoongi back and has a heart-to-heart with mc. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

#yoongi mafia #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts mafia #bts poly #namjoon mafia #jungkook mafia #fic: collateral

[romanarose]

Puzzle Pieces Drabbles part 1

Ben Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're dating Tom, a whirlwind romance that came at a low point in your life. Within months, you live with him and he's not as nice as he was in the begining. Tom does things that upset you, Benny finds a way to make it better.

Warnings: IDK what to call this but it's def shitty behavior throughout. Will progressively get worse during the series but let's start with this. Drinking. Messing up something that you spent time on. Emotional cheating and eventually some kissing cheating. Im not doing full series warnings because I don't know what everything will contain. We'll do it chapter by chapter.

A/N: This will be a short series of comfort drabbles where Tom does something shitty and Ben makes it better. No smut. I'm at a low point rn and just want softness.

*****************

Tom was supposed to text you before he brought people over.

It wasn't that you disliked his friends, they were all very kind and respectful of your home. If one was dropping by or it was a spur of the moment thing it was no big deal, but you didn't like having all of them over without warning. There was laundry on the couch and no snacks ready. You were sure they'd be drunk.

"Hey baby!" Tom greets loudly as he walks in, finding you in the kitchen putting some chips in a bowl. He squeezes your ass as he kisses you. You didn't like when he did that around others, he said he was just showing off his sexy girlfriend.

"Hi!" You kiss him back, so excited he's home early you don't mind the booze on his breath. You turn around and set the bowl at the kitchen island, smiling brightly at Frankie, Will, Santi, Ben and a few friends you only sort of knew. It was Ben your eyes lingered on the longest, he was your favorite, always so much fun when he came over.

Ben grinned at you. "I see you finished the puzzle!"

"I did!" Sliding to the kitchen table, giddy to show off your project, you grab the corners. The puzzle was huge, a giant baby Yoda puzzle you were proud of after all the hours spent on it. Ben was over a few days ago when you were working on it. "Look!" You'd seen it on tin tok, practicing pulling a puzzle off the table and keeping it intact. With pride, you hold it up for Tom and his friends to see, beaming. A few so's and ah's came from the guys.

Tom laughed. "oh, is that what you were doing instead of laundry?" And you catch Will glaring at him.

You mumble an apology, and begin to try and lay it down when Tom insists you hold it up again. For a moment, you're happy he wants to see your hard work.

Until he smacks it down.

You watch in shock as all the pieces tumble to the floor, clattering at the tiles. Heat burns at your face in embaressment, unable to look up to see who is laughing at you, because some people are.

When you hear Frankie shout 'What the fuck, Tom!', Tom retaliates that it's just a stupid puzzle from a stupid show.

You're ashamed at having been excited for something Tom thinks is stupid.

The argument escalates but you can't see, kneeling down to pick up the mess. Fuck, the floors needed to be washed too. Tears burned in your eyes and you willed yourself not to cry. You hear Frankie say he needs to step out, and out of the corner of your eye you see Will taking him outside, being the only one who could match his height and weight.

You're tears blur your vision, you don't even realize someone is helping you clean. Wiping them, to see Ben on the floor with you picking up the last few before standing and putting them in the box. Christ he was tall.

"Thank you." You whisper, sniffling.

"Don't thank me." His voice was deep, a thick southern drawl you liked. He sat at the table. "C'mon, honey, let's get started."

When you stand, you look at him in confusion. "Huh."

Ben smiles at you. "The puzzle. Ain't gonna let you do this without me a second time. I love baby Yoda."

Tentatively, you sit at the table with him and get to work on fixing your puzzle. Chunks were still intact, so it wasn't a complete wash.

By the time the guys came back in, you were smiling and laughing again, halfway through the puzzle once more.

**************

That's it, super simple.

I know I should be doing my DBF Joel fix today but I've had an awful time and just want soft rn

I'll do a separate tag list for this bc it's Garret, not Pedro or Oscar so lmk if you wanna be tagged.

or follow @romana-after-dark for updates

Tagging a few people I know read Benny fics

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction@itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @missdictatorme

#ben miller #benny miller #Benjamin miller #ben miller x reader #benny miller x reader #bejmamin miller x reader #Garrett hedlund #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #ben miller fanfiction #benny miller fanfiction #fem reader

[snowangie]

snow on the beach

a finnick odair x fem!oc series

summary: in the heart of the capitol's glittering deception, Giselle Snow, granddaughter of president coriolanus snow, conceals her true emotions while working to undermine the hunger games. sent to district 4 after the 74th Games, she grapples with forbidden love for district 4's Finnick Odair. Snow on the beach is weird but fucking beautiful - Giselle is the snow, Finnick is the beach, an unexpected yet perfect harmony in the delicate ballet of their existence. as the quarter quell unfolds, panem becomes a battleground for love and rebellion, and Giselle faces a choice that will alter destinies and unravel the threads of her past.

content warnings: swearing, smut, violence, death, torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, violence, hurt/comfort

chapters: 1 - flecks of lights , 2 - life is emotionally abusive , 3 - time cant stop me quite like you did

chapter 3: time can't stop me quite like you did.

The passage of time in District 4 had left an indelible mark on Giselle and Finnick's complex connection. Several weeks had passed since that fateful night at Finnick's house, and the once-intimate moments between them had become scarce. The distance, both emotional and physical, lingered like a palpable ache.

As Giselle carried out her duties in District 4, she could feel Finnick's eyes on her from afar. His watchful gaze spoke volumes – a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that still lingered between them.

One day, amidst her routine, Giselle received a summons from the Capitol. A person from her past life there requested her presence. She left her duties in District 4 to meet the mysterious messenger.

President Snow, in his calculating wisdom, had decided it was time for Giselle to return to the Capitol for good. Her work in the districts was deemed complete, and her presence was required for the upcoming Hunger Games. The announcement, a harbinger of tribulation, loomed in the near future.

The weight of the Capitol's expectations pressed on Giselle's shoulders as she absorbed the news. The delicate balance she had strived to maintain in District 4 was now disrupted, and the impending return to the Capitol held a sense of foreboding.

That night, as Giselle grappled with the implications of her impending departure, Finnick, unable to stay away any longer, appeared at her doorstep. Their eyes met, and a whirlwind of unspoken emotions surged between them.

She hesitated for a moment before inviting him in. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting shadows that mirrored the complexities of their relationship.

In the quiet of Giselle's quarters, they finally spoke. The tension in the air was palpable, and Giselle, with a heavy heart, shared the news of her departure. “I'm leaving tomorrow, Finnick. The Capitol needs me for the Hunger Games. The Capitol is pulling me back. My work in the districts is done.”

Finnick, his gaze fixed on her, his expression revealing a mix of conflict and understanding, muttered, “They always find a way to pull us back in, don't they?”

Giselle nodded, her eyes revealing a mixture of vulnerability and restraint. “It's what I was born into, Finnick. But maybe... maybe it's a chance to change things from within.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and frustration. “And where does that leave us? We were good. But that night at my house... things changed, and it's been hard to find our way back.”

Giselle, tracing patterns on the edge of a table, admitted, “I thought we had something real, something beyond the Capitol's games. But then I questioned it all, and it felt like everything fell apart.”

Finnick, closing the distance between them, spoke with a raw honesty, “That night was a mess, Giselle. I didn't know how to handle what we shared. I thought I was protecting you, but maybe I was just protecting myself.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching for a connection. "We're both products of this system, Finnick. But maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to navigate it together.”

The room held a charged atmosphere as they grappled with the complexities of their connection. Finnick, his frustration evident, questioned, "What are we, Giselle? Are we just part of the Capitol's games too?"

Giselle, meeting his gaze, countered, “We can be more, Finnick. It's not easy, but we can redefine the rules. The Capitol might pull us back, but we have a choice in how we play their game.”

As the night unfolded, their conversation delved into the intricacies of their emotions, the unspoken promises, and the vulnerabilities that lay beneath their poised exteriors. In the quietude of Giselle's quarters, the echoes of their dialogue danced, revealing a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations. In the quiet intimacy of Giselle's living chambers, the air held a palpable tension—a mix of longing and the impending separation that hung between her and Finnick. The room witnessed a passionate interlude as their hearts yearned for a connection that defied the confines of Panem's expectations.

Finnick, his gaze drawn to Giselle like a moth to a flame, found solace in the softness of her presence. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that played upon the contours of Giselle's face, and he couldn't resist the allure any longer. Finnick’s gaze lingered on Giselle, capturing every detail of her presence—the soft curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes that mirrored the starlit ocean. A touch both gentle and fervent, he traced the line of her jaw, his fingers igniting a trail of sensation. In that poignant moment, he couldn’t resist the pull any longer. With a tender urgency, he cupped her face, his lips finding hers in a dance that mirrored the ebb and flow of the sea.

Giselle, acutely aware of the imminent departure that loomed, met Finnick's gaze with a mixture of love and desperation. Their lips collided in a fervent kiss that spoke volumes of the unspoken promises between them. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and they were consumed by the passion that had blossomed in the midst of rebellion and clandestine whispers.

As their kiss deepened, the room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their hearts, entwined in a dance of longing. Giselle's hands found refuge in Finnick's hair, holding onto the fleeting seconds before the inevitable separation. Every touch, every shared breath, echoed a love that had transcended the societal boundaries that sought to tear them apart. Time seemed to pause, allowing them to savor the sweetness of their stolen moment.

When they finally parted, a breathless silence enveloped the room, leaving behind the lingering warmth of their connection. In that sacred space, Giselle and Finnick were bound by a love that refused to be silenced—a love that whispered promises of reunion even as Giselle prepared to return to the heart of the Capitol's machinations.

In the fading twilight, Finnick broached the subject that lingered unspoken, “Giselle, when the quarter quells arrive, and I'm supposed to mentor the tributes, what if we plan to see each other again? Maybe not in the spotlight, but somewhere discreet.”

A flicker of hope danced in Giselle's eyes as she considered the suggestion. “Finnick, that sounds like a risky endeavor. The Capitol's eyes are everywhere. But...”

He interjected with a sly smile, “But isn't that what makes it interesting? We navigate the Capitol's games within their games.”

They shared a quiet laugh, their connection growing stronger amidst the uncertainty. Giselle, feeling the weight of her impending return to the Capitol, nodded in agreement. “Let's plan for it, Finnick. A discreet meeting during the quarter quells. Something that even the Capitol won't suspect.”

Finnick, the corners of his mouth quirking up, responded, “We'll be careful. Just a moment, a stolen breath in the midst of their orchestrated chaos.”

In the quiet hours of the night, Giselle and Finnick found solace in each other's company, away from the tumultuous world that awaited them. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow as they lay side by side, their shared vulnerabilities creating an unspoken bond between them. The promise of a clandestine meeting in the shadow of the Capitol's watchful gaze during the quarter quells became a glimmer of hope in the face of their imminent separation.

The room, adorned with memories of shared moments, became a haven from the harsh realities they faced. Giselle's silhouette was softened by the dim light, and Finnick's eyes traced the contours of her face, a map of both strength and vulnerability.

As they lay together, a delicate silence enveloped them, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of their breaths. The weight of their individual struggles seemed to dissipate in the intimate space they created, a sanctuary where the world's troubles held no sway.

Finnick, his fingers gently tracing patterns on Giselle's hand, spoke in a hushed tone, "In this moment, it feels like the world outside these walls doesn't exist. Just you and me, away from the Capitol's games and the district's strife."

Giselle, her gaze meeting his, whispered, "For a moment, we're free. Free from the expectations, the struggles, and the weight of the roles we play."

The moonlight cast a gentle shimmer upon them, and in that quiet intimacy, their connection deepened. The air was filled with unspoken promises, a silent pact to cherish the stolen moments they found in each other's arms.

As sleep claimed them, the room became a haven of dreams, where the echoes of whispered confessions and shared laughter intertwined. The night, despite its tranquility, carried a bittersweet melody – a reminder that the morning would bring new challenges, and the realities they sought refuge from would once again demand their attention.

In the soft embrace of slumber, The Capitol's Darling and The President's Darling, Giselle and Finnick found a temporary respite, a poetic interlude in the symphony of their intertwined lives. The moon, witness to their shared vulnerability, cast a tender glow upon their forms, creating a canvas of warmth and serenity amidst the complexities that awaited them with the dawn.

During the quiet hours before dawn, Giselle prepared to return to the Capitol, the echoes of their conversation lingered. The unspoken bond between her and Finnick, a fragile thread stretched across the divide, held the weight of an uncertain future as she embarked on a journey back to the heart of the Capitol's machinations with the uncertainty that awaited Giselle there despite the odds.

The morning air in District 4 was crisp, carrying a bittersweet undertone as Giselle prepared to bid farewell to the district she had grown to care for. She was busy packing her stuff and cleaning the house so she didn't notice when Finnick left. In the quiet moments before her public departure, Finnick reappeared at her doorstep, a silent acknowledgment of the private farewell they needed.

Giselle, wearing a somber expression, opened the door to find Finnick standing there, a necklace in his hand. The pendant, a delicate seashell, held a story of survival from his victorious Games, and he spoke with a quiet intensity, “I want you to have this, Giselle. It's been with me through thick and thin. Maybe it'll bring you luck too.”

She took the necklace, the weight of its history mingling with the weight of the moment. “Finnick, I... Thank you.”

He smiled, a mixture of sadness and understanding in his eyes. “Consider it a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's a glimmer of hope. A proof of our time here together once. You're strong, Giselle. Don't forget that.”

As the sun cast its gentle rays, they stood in the quiet embrace of the morning, the world outside oblivious to the intimate exchange. Finnick's gaze lingered on her face again, committing the details to memory.

Giselle, feeling the weight of impending farewells, spoke softly, “Finnick, I don't know what awaits me in the Capitol, but I want you to know that you've been a light in the darkness. Whatever happens, I won't forget you.”

He nodded, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air. “You're not alone, Giselle. Remember that, no matter where you go.”

Their lips met in a lingering kiss, a silent exchange of emotions too complex for words. The taste of both sorrow and longing lingered in the air as they pulled away, their eyes locking in a silent farewell.

As Giselle stepped back, the seashell necklace clasped around her neck, Finnick's hand lingered on hers for a moment. “Go change the Capitol from within, Giselle. I'll be watching, and I'll be waiting for your return.”

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of their connection. With one last glance, Giselle turned away, ready to face the public farewell that awaited her. The echoes of their intimate morning lingered in the air, a testament to a connection that defied the Capitol's expectations and a promise that the unspoken bond between them would endure, even in the face of separation.

As they parted, the sea echoed their unspoken vows, carrying whispers of promises that lingered in the salty breeze. The truth of their love burned bright, an unextinguishable flame that would endure even as Giselle embarked on her journey back to the Capitol.

With a final gaze, Giselle committed Finnick’s features to her memory—the curve of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, and the warmth of his touch. The sea sighed, a melancholic serenade, as the lovers embraced the fleeting seconds before the impending separation, their hearts entangled in a love that refused to be extinguished.

The platform near the trains buzzed with a mixture of gratitude and sadness, Giselle's departure from District 4 drawing a crowd of people eager to bid her farewell. The district's residents, who had come to admire and appreciate Giselle for her kindness, gathered to express their sentiments.

As she walked towards the waiting train, the sea of faces reflected a mix of admiration and genuine affection. The atmosphere was charged with emotion, and Giselle, humbled by the outpouring of support, acknowledged the crowd with a gracious nod. “People of District 4, thank you for taking care of me. You were a wonderful experience.”

However, amidst the heartfelt farewells, the peacemaker leader, Captain Rawlins, harbored resentment. He detested the connection Giselle had forged with the people of District 4, viewing it as a challenge to his authority. Mr. O'Brien, who had initially held reservations about Giselle, raised his hand in a three-finger salute—a symbolic gesture born in District 12 but now adopted by the people of the Districts as a sign of goodbye, admiration, and unity.

The gesture, meant as a farewell and a show of unity, spread like a ripple through the crowd. Others joined Mr. O'Brien in the salute, a silent tribute to Giselle's impact on their lives. However, Captain Rawlins saw it as an act of defiance, a challenge to the Capitol's authority.

In a swift and brutal response, Captain Rawlins approached Giselle with a stern expression. Without warning, he delivered a harsh slap across her face, the sound echoing through the platform. The crowd fell silent, a collective gasp rippling through those gathered.

Undeterred, Mr. O'Brien maintained the three-finger salute, a symbol of solidarity. The others, despite the shock, followed suit. Giselle, recovering from the unexpected blow, raised her hand in the salute as well, a quiet act of defiance against the oppression they faced.

With a forceful push, Captain Rawlins directed Giselle towards the waiting train, his displeasure evident. As the doors closed behind her, the three-finger salute lingered in the air—a symbol of resistance, unity, and the indomitable spirit that persisted even in the face of cruelty. The train pulled away, leaving District 4 behind, but the defiant gesture of the people remained etched in the memory of those who witnessed it, a silent promise that the spirit of rebellion endured.

As the train pulled away from District 4, Giselle found herself alone in a compartment, the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the tracks accompanying her thoughts. The sting of Captain Rawlins' slap still lingered, but Giselle refused to let it define her emotions.

She sat in contemplative silence, the scenery outside the window a blur as her mind churned with reflections on the events that unfolded on the platform. The crowd's supportive gestures, Mr. O'Donnell's salute, and the defiance that rippled through the people brought a sense of pride and purpose.

Giselle traced her fingers over the seashell necklace that hung around her neck, a silent reminder of the connection she had forged in District 4. Despite the confrontation with Captain Rawlins, she didn't shed a tear. There was no regret in her heart. Instead, a steely resolve settled within her.

In her mind, Giselle replayed the moment she raised her hand in the three-finger salute. It wasn't an act of submission; it was a declaration of identity, a testament to her resilience. She knew that Captain Rawlins, despite his hostility, understood the delicate dance he played by showing hostility to President Snow's granddaughter.

President Snow valued his family's image above all, and any display of aggression towards Giselle could lead to dire consequences for Captain Rawlins. This knowledge empowered Giselle. She realized that her actions, far from being a vulnerability, had turned the tables in her favor.

As the train continued its journey towards the Capitol, Giselle's gaze shifted from the passing landscapes to the reflection in the window. A subtle smile played on her lips, a sign of defiance and quiet strength. In this moment of solitude, Giselle embraced the truth that she had revealed to District 4 – that she was not just a Snow, but an individual with the capacity to challenge the Capitol's oppressive norms.

The train's rhythmic journey mirrored the steady beat of her resolute heart. Giselle, undeterred by the challenges ahead, prepared to face the Capitol with a newfound sense of purpose. The defiance that echoed through the platform lingered in her spirit, a flame that illuminated the path forward.

Upon her return to the opulent Snow Residence, Giselle's footsteps echoed through the grand corridors. The air was thick with the scent of privilege and power, a stark contrast to the simplicity she had experienced in District 4.

As she entered her grandfather's study, President Snow looked up from his desk, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Giselle, my dear, welcome back. I trust your visit to District 4 went according to plan?"

Giselle, wearing a mask of composure, nodded. “Yes, Grandfather. I executed your instructions precisely, as you would expect.”

Snow's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of suspicion lingering. “Good, good. The reports from District 4 indicate that you've managed to maintain order exceptionally well. The peacemakers commend your leadership.”

Unbeknownst to President Snow, the truth lay shrouded in the shadows. The peacemakers, recognizing the impact of Giselle's genuine compassion, had covered for her, creating an illusion of her strict enforcement.

With a subtle inclination of her head, Giselle acknowledged his words. “I did what was necessary to ensure the Capitol's interests were upheld in District 4.”

President Snow leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. “You've done well, Giselle. Better than I anticipated. I see that you are learning the capitol way, the right way. In light of your success, I have another task for you.”

Giselle's heart tightened, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “What would you have me do, Grandfather?”

A calculating gleam entered Snow's eyes. “The quarter quells are approaching, and I want you to work closely with the game makers to ensure their success. Your understanding of the Capitol's intricate dynamics will be invaluable.”

Giselle's facade remained unbroken as she replied, “Of course, Grandfather. It is an honour to finally be working with the gamemakers. I will ensure the quarter quells are executed flawlessly.”

As Snow outlined his expectations, Giselle couldn't help but reflect on the irony of her situation. Her acts of kindness in District 4, disguised as strict enforcement, had earned her grandfather's trust, paving the way for her deeper involvement in the machinations of the Hunger Games.

As she left the study, Giselle carried the weight of her dual identity – the granddaughter of President Snow and the compassionate force behind the illusion of order in District 4. The Capitol's games continued, and Giselle found herself entangled in a web of intrigue and deception that she would have to navigate with care to preserve her own humanity.

As Giselle navigated the intricacies of Capitol politics and her newly assigned role working closely with the gamemakers, she found herself in a pivotal meeting with Plutarch Heavensbee. The air in the dimly lit room carried an undercurrent of secrecy, and Giselle, ever perceptive, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Plutarch than met the eye.

Plutarch, known for his cunning strategies, glanced up as Giselle entered the room. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes betrayed a glint of curiosity. Giselle, poised and shrewd, met his gaze with a level of scrutiny that went unnoticed by many in the Capitol.

“Giselle Snow, the granddaughter of President Snow," Plutarch acknowledged with a diplomatic nod. "Word has it that you've just returned from District 4, where your strict leadership has yielded positive results.”

Giselle, choosing her words carefully, replied, “Indeed, I did my duty as instructed. Maintaining order is crucial, especially in these times.”

Plutarch's gaze lingered, and a subtle smile played on his lips. “Order, yes. But sometimes, the Capitol's definition of order can be... restrictive. Wouldn't you agree?”

Giselle, sensing an opportunity to gauge Plutarch's intentions, replied with a measured tone, “Order is necessary, but it should not come at the cost of humanity. The people need to feel a connection, a sense of hope.”

Plutarch raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Giselle's response. “Hope, you say? An interesting perspective, especially in these trying times. The Capitol could use more individuals who understand the importance of hope.”

As the conversation unfolded, both Giselle and Plutarch danced around the unspoken truth. Giselle, suspecting that Plutarch had motives beyond the Capitol's facade, subtly tested the waters. Plutarch, in turn, observed Giselle's reactions, sensing a potential ally in the granddaughter of President Snow.

Little did they know that their paths, entwined by the complexities of the Capitol's political landscape, would lead to an alliance that could play a crucial role in the rebellion against the oppressive regime. In the shadows of secrecy, Giselle and Plutarch began a delicate dance, each harboring their own ambitions for change in a world defined by control and deception.

As Giselle delved into her responsibilities working closely with the gamemakers, her meticulous attention to detail caught the eye of Plutarch Heavensbee. Intrigued, he approached her during a break, something on her neck captured his attention—a delicate necklace with a seashell pendant.

Recognition flickered in Plutarch's eyes. Finnick, a linchpin in his covert plans for the rebellion, had garnered his favor for his potential to sway public opinion. The realization that Giselle possessed a tangible link to Finnick Odair shifted Plutarch's perception of her. He saw beyond the president's darling granddaughter facade; he saw a connection to the rebellion, a vulnerability that could be exploited for the greater cause.

Intrigued by the possibilities, Plutarch subtly approached Giselle during a break in her tasks. “Giselle Snow, a granddaughter of the Capitol, adorned with a piece of District 4's history. What does the seashell represent to you?” he inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and calculated interest.

Giselle, momentarily caught off guard, composed herself. “It's a gift, a token from District 4. A reminder of the relationships we forge in unexpected places.”

Plutarch, maintaining an air of congeniality, pressed further. “District 4, where you executed 'strict leadership' as per President Snow's orders. Interesting choice of words, considering the Capitol's narrative. Is there more to your story, Giselle?”

Giselle, cautious but quick-witted, responded, “Perhaps, but some stories are better left unsaid, don't you think?”

Plutarch, concealing his scheming thoughts behind a diplomatic smile, replied, “Indeed, my dear. Some stories unfold in the most unexpected ways.”

After the surface-level narrative, Plutarch observed Giselle closely over the next few days. He watched her interactions, noted the subtleties in her expressions, and scrutinized the moments when she believed herself unobserved. It was in these unguarded instances that Plutarch sought to uncover the truth behind the Capitol's darling granddaughter.

As he delved deeper into his surveillance, a revelation emerged—Giselle and Finnick Odair had shared more than a symbolic necklace. There was an unspoken history, a connection that transcended the Capitol's expectations. Plutarch, realizing the depth of their association, saw an opportunity to leverage Giselle's personal ties for the rebellion.

In the shadowy corridors of the Capitol, where deception and strategy intertwined, Plutarch Heavensbee, master of manipulation, set his sights on Giselle Snow as a potential asset—a pawn with a hidden history that could influence the unfolding rebellion in ways he had yet to fathom.

The connection between Giselle and Finnick, coupled with her nuanced perspective, presented an opportunity—one that could be manipulated to further the rebellion's cause. In the intricate game of political chess, Giselle became a pawn whose moves could influence the grand design Plutarch had set in motion.

In the midst of the Capitol's dazzling extravagance, Giselle found herself lost in a sea of wealth, the rhythmic pulse of the music reverberating through the grand halls. The air was thick with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the superficial conversations of Capitol elites.

As she moved gracefully through the crowd, her eyes caught the glimmering chandeliers overhead, reminiscent of the stars that adorned the night sky. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the quiet moments beneath the District 4 sky, far, far away from the Capitol's artificial brilliance.

Seeking solace from the overwhelming decadence, Giselle stepped onto a balcony, the cool breeze carrying whispers of distant laughter and the distant hum of the city. The moon, a delicate crescent, hung in the velvet expanse above, casting a soft glow over the Capitol.

In that moment, Giselle’s thoughts drifted to Finnick, the one person who made her feel alive in a world that often felt detached. She wondered if he, too, was looking at the same moon, a silent connection bridging the gap between their separate worlds.

With a wistful sigh, Giselle whispered into the night, “I hope you’re out there, somewhere, under the same moon. No matter the distance, our hearts are still tethered by its gentle glow.”

Her attention shifted to a couple on the dance floor below—a striking resemblance caught her eye. The man's tousled hair echoed the waves of the sea, much like Finnick's, and the woman's locks bore a familiarity to Giselle's own. The couple twirled, immersed in the music, an image that sparked a quiet daydream in Giselle's mind.

In that moment, she allowed herself to envision a future where she and Finnick could openly share their love, much like the couple below. A tender smile played on her lips as she imagined a time when their connection could be celebrated without the constraints of secrecy. While that day seemed distant, Giselle held onto the hope that one day, their love would be free to dance in the open, under the same moon that witnessed their silent promises.

The room Plutarch led Giselle to was dimly lit, casting a subdued atmosphere that matched the gravity of their conversation. As they entered, the heavy door swung shut behind them, shutting out the distant hum of Capitol life. Giselle, her gaze fixed on Plutarch, felt a mixture of anticipation and unease.

"Sit, Giselle," Plutarch gestured towards a plush chair. The air was thick with the weight of the secrets about to be unveiled. Giselle complied, her posture tense yet determined.

"I imagine you have questions, concerns, and perhaps a sense that there's more to the Capitol's narrative than meets the eye," Plutarch began, his tone measured, yet carrying an undertone of sincerity. "The truth is, Giselle, there is a rebellion brewing—a movement to dismantle the Capitol's control over Panem, to end the Hunger Games and the oppression they represent."

Giselle's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and realization. “A rebellion? But how?” Her mind raced with the implications of such a revelation.

Plutarch, choosing his words carefully, continued, “Your connection to District 4's victor, Finnick Odair, is one of the key element in our plan. His influence, combined with your strategic position, can sway public opinion and help us orchestrate the downfall of the Capitol's regime.”

The weight of responsibility settled on Giselle's shoulders. “Finnick... I knew there was more to him, but a rebellion? What's at stake? What are we risking?”

Plutarch leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “Everything is at stake, Giselle. The lives of countless people, the chance for a future free from the Capitol's tyranny. The Quarter Quell is our stage, and you, my dear, are a player in this complex game.”

Giselle's mind raced, torn between the dream of a changed Panem and the realization of the dangers involved. “Finnick... What about him? I can't risk his life.”

Plutarch nodded, acknowledging the weight of her concern. “Finnick is aware, Giselle. He has chosen to be part of this rebellion, understanding the risks. We are working to get Katniss Everdeen to be the leader of the rebellion. Our Mockingjay. There have and will always be risks but the Capitol's oppression won't crumble without taking calculated chances.”

Silence hung in the room, Giselle grappling with the enormity of her role in the rebellion. Plutarch, sensing her internal struggle, spoke with unwavering conviction. “Giselle, you have the chance to be part of something extraordinary—a chance to change the course of history, to bring about a Panem free from the Games. Will you stand with us?”

The room felt charged with the weight of Giselle's decision. Her gaze met Plutarch's, and with a deep breath, she uttered, “Yes, I will stand with you. It's always been my dream to change the Capitol's ways, and if this is the way to do it, then I'm in.”

Plutarch, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, extended his hand. “Welcome to the rebellion, Giselle Snow. Your journey is just beginning, and together, we'll strive for a Panem that is free from the Capitol's chains.”

#finnick odair #hunger games #finnick x reader #thg #the hunger games #sam claflin #tom blyth #tbosas #taylor swift #lana del rey #snow on the beach #young coriolanus snow #corio snow #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick x oc #finnick x you #finnick fanfic

[sfehvn]

the apprentice

Description: AU- An ambitious criminal justice major undertakes an internship at, arguably, the most noteworthy law firm in the country. Things don't go as she plans, as the title of intern to Astarion Ancunin is synonymous with personal assistant, apparently.

A/N: I've been so all over the place with what I'm working on writing-wise, but this has been deep in my drafts and I figured I'd set it loose. I was reading '30 Days' by Astarionhq on A03 and really took inspiration for my own modern twist on an Astarion/Tav love story. I linked their story above; please check it out! Also my obsession with the whole 'enemies to lovers' trope is totally not apparent, psh. There will be a lot of pining and eventual smut. I'll include content warnings in individual chapters if any apply. Enjoy!

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

Word count: 4,595 Characters: au!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

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Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The shrill sound prompted you to pull the heavy comforter over your head, willing away the sunbeams shining obnoxiously through your window. You groan as your hand smacks the wood of the nightstand haphazardly in a desperate attempt to stop the godawful noise coming from the alarm clock. Relief floods your senses as it finally ceases. You close your eyes and are on the precipice of sleep until realization dawns on you. 

Fuck.

You had already snoozed the alarm three times prior. Meaning you were going to be royally late. With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you toss the warm blankets off you and bolt from the bed, barely glancing at the clock's LED. You could make out the emboldened numbers through your sleep-recovering eyes. 

9:54

“Fuck. Fuck.” It was all that you managed as you darted around the room. In a flurry, you pull a black dress from your wardrobe. Making quick work of pulling off your pajamas, you slip it on hastily and step into your bathroom, carelessly sliding toothpaste over the bristles of your toothbrush before brushing your teeth. You pause, clamping down on the toothbrush with your teeth, bracing it as you lean down to secure the black heels to your feet that had been unceremoniously tossed aside on the bathroom floor the night before. Not typically the type to be late, of course the one time you were just so happened to be on the day that could make or break your professional career.

You push aside the self-berating for the time being as you rinse the paste from your mouth. Not having the time to shower now, you pull your long strands of hair into a high pony, carefully leaving out a few whisps of hair to frame your face. You had managed to make it out of your apartment before the clock struck ten, and hope bubbled in your chest at the thought that you may make this interview after all.

The bus you would have caught was long gone, so you jog the entire way. Juggling your purse, papers that included a resume, pages of references, and your phone to observe the time. You’re well aware of the disorganized mess you must look like as you stand in front of the receptionist’s desk. Chest heaving from the jog there, papers in disarray in your hands, the blonde woman behind the desk eyes you with a passing look of judgment, and the need to crawl into a hole and hide flits through your deflated ego. You give the woman your name, and she types it quickly and efficiently into the computer.

“I’m sorry, miss Tav.” The woman starts, “Mr. Ancunin has an eleven o’clock meeting. Your interview was scheduled for ten thirty. You’re nearly fifteen minutes late.” She looks up at you from her screen, and though she tries to appear sympathetic, the emotion is missing from her eyes. You glance at the clock above her head, stomach sinking to your toes.

10:43

“Right, yes. I completely understand. I had car troubles this morning and had to walk here; you know how crowded these sidewalks are.” You let out an awkward laugh, attempting to gain some level of relatability with the woman. She laughs wryly along with you, causing your face to visibly drop. “Listen, I-I really need this interview.” New approach: honesty. “Is there a later slot? I’d be happy to wait here all day if needed.” 

“A lot of people need this interview, miss Tav.” The woman is unfazed by your pleading tone. “Unfortunately, there will be no more slots for this particular internship. The final interviews will occur later today, and Mr. Ancunin is completely booked for six months. It’s safe to say he will have come to a decision by then.” 

Your shoulders drop. The sleepless nights of preparing, the references you had compiled from professors and other dignitaries alike, it didn’t matter. While, yes, you could always strive for another internship, Ancunin Associates was an elite law firm. In any case, you would have been guaranteed a job at any firm post-graduation had you completed this apprenticeship.

The woman is eyeing you expectantly, waiting rather impatiently for you to make your retreat. “Miss Tav, I will have to ask you to leave. Mr. Ancunin-“ 

You can barely hear her anymore as you make out the man passing through the large office. Walking with purpose past the tall, windowed walls overlooking the bustling city many floors below. His unnaturally silver hair is brushed back purposefully, leaving a few curls to swoop and fall over his forehead. Eyes that could only be described as honey pierced forward as if looking right through anyone who stood in his walking path. The finest of tailored suits adorned his figure, a figure you had no doubt was toned to the gods underneath. You recognized him from various news articles; he had been considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, after all.

You brush aside your musings, and adrenaline pumps through your veins. “Mr. Ancunin, my name is Tav. I had a ten-thirty interview for the open internship. I recognize I’m severely late, and I apologize, but I swear it is entirely out of character for me. Is there any possible chance I can fit into your schedule later today?” 

He halts, staring at you with an indistinguishable look from across the office. You nearly regret speaking up to 

him as he scrutinizes you. You can feel those golden eyes of his scanning over you, and you fight the urge to falter under it. You remain unmoving, trying to appear like you belong. His eyes are fixed on your chest for a passing moment, and the need to cover your frame burns through you.

“A bold one, hm?” His tone is teasing, though his face still holds firm. “Late and less than presentable. Does all of your clothing have those stains on them?” He gestures towards your chest, where he had previously been staring. You finally glance down and are met with a small white stain in the center of your chest. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed at this point, but instead of backing down, you shift the papers you held against your bosom, hiding the marred fabric from his eyes. You made a mental note that the next time you found yourself late to an important meeting, perhaps you should ensure toothpaste wasn’t all over you before leaving home.

“Mr. Ancunin, ten minutes of your time is all I need. Please.” He didn’t visibly react to your pleading, and his face remained stone-cold.  The silence was deafening. The only sound you could make out was the thudding of your heart against your ribcage.

“Clear my eleven o’clock.” He says simply without addressing you, looking at the blonde woman you had just spoken to. “Come.” His words were firm. He turns on his heel towards the office he had just emerged from, silently expecting you to follow. You quietly breathe a sigh of relief as you oblige. A sleek black desk with an expensive-looking chair sat behind it in the center of the room. He holds out a hand, gesturing to one of the two armchairs in front of the desk, overlooking the large windows behind his chair. You silently obey his command, crossing your legs over one another as you wait for him to speak once more.

There’s a deafening silence as he eyes you, hands folded and resting in his lap once he’s sat down across from you. Mouth opening to speak, you close it when he holds his hand out in a quiet bid for the papers you had been holding. You wordlessly hand over your resume and references, and he scans the pages with an unreadable expression. The quiet stretches, and you fidget nervously in your seat, wishing you knew what was happening in his mind.

Finally, he looks up, those golden eyes locking onto yours. "Tav, is it?" he asks, his tone revealing nothing.

"Yes, sir. And I apologize again for my tardiness. It's not a reflection of my usual professionalism." You reply, trying to maintain a professional composure.

"Hm." He murmurs, leaning back in his chair. "Your credentials are impressive, Tav. Top of your class, stellar recommendations. But I'm curious—what makes you think you can manage this apprenticeship?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "Mr. Ancunin, I understand punctuality is crucial, and I take full responsibility for my tardiness today. However, my dedication, work ethic, and ability to adapt under pressure make me a valuable candidate for this position. I've faced challenges in the past and have consistently proven my commitment to overcoming them. I'm not one to let a setback define my capabilities."

A white eyebrow quirks in response, a smug look on his features. “Clearly. The tired university student you are, I presume you know how to make one hell of a cup of coffee?”

“I-” You start, feeling yourself shrink under his gaze. “Yes.” You murmur, brows pulling together in confusion.

He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his honey-pooled eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “How about laundry?”

“Mr. Ancunin, no disrespect intended at all, sir-” You start.

“Astarion.” He says flatly.

“What?” Your voice catches in your throat, causing the word to shake as it leaves your lips.

“Call me Astarion.”

“Right, uh, Astarion,” You corrected. “I was hoping for an internship that would assist my legal career in flourishing. I didn’t anticipate I would be a personal assistant.” Your words trail.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “What a shame. I suppose there are many less desirable internships for you to pick from.”

Your mind races as you process the unexpected turn of events. Astarion's gaze remains fixed on you, a challenging glint in his eyes. You weigh your options, considering the potential impact on your career aspirations.

Taking a deep breath, you respond with a measured tone, "Astarion, I appreciate the opportunity to interview for this internship, and I am genuinely passionate about pursuing a legal career. However, I believe my skills and dedication would be best utilized in a legal capacity rather than as a personal assistant. I've worked diligently to excel in my academic pursuits and gain valuable experience in the legal field, and I'm eager to contribute those skills."

He tilts his head, the smirk on his face deepening. "Ambition, I like that. But you see, Tav, I value versatility. A good legal mind is undoubtedly crucial, but navigating the intricacies of the legal world often requires more than just legal acumen. It requires adaptability, resourcefulness, and an understanding of the broader aspects of the business. Consider this a test of your ability to handle the unexpected."

You take a moment to absorb his words, recognizing the challenge he's presenting. The internal debate intensifies within you — compromise for the sake of opportunity or stand firm on your premise. After a brief pause, you choose your words carefully, "I'm eager to prove my versatility and dedication to this role. If this is the path you believe will showcase my abilities, I am open to embracing the challenges it presents."

Astarion's eyes narrow slightly as if assessing the sincerity of your response. "Very well, Tav. We'll start with a trial period. Consider today's events as part of your initiation. Now, as for the legal matters, we'll get to those as the internship progresses. But for now, let's see how you handle some of the more... practical aspects of the job.” 

You nod numbly, and you’re confident you look silly sitting there with your mouth slightly ajar from the whiplash of the situation at hand. 

Astarion leans back, seemingly satisfied with your response. He gestures for you to follow him once again as he stands, leading you through a maze of offices and hallways in the prestigious law firm. As you walk beside him, you can't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and determination. This internship might not be unfolding as you envisioned, but you're determined to prove yourself in whatever capacity necessary.

The two of you eventually arrive at what appears to be a spacious lounge area, complete with an elegant coffee machine. It's clear that Astarion's definition of versatility extends beyond legal matters.

"Now, Tav," he begins, "We'll start with a simple task. Make me a cup of coffee."

You nod, moving towards the coffee machine. While you might be more accustomed to preparing legal briefs, you're not one to shy away from a challenge. As you navigate the machine's buttons, you glance over at Astarion, who has taken a seat in the lounge area.

The machine whirs to life, and you focus on measuring the coffee grounds and water precisely. A sense of determination fuels your movements. Astarion watches you intently, his unreadable expression giving away little.

Once the cup is filled with the scorching liquid, you reach for the creamer and halt your movements as he speaks again. “Black.” You turn to hand him the mug, seemingly awaiting his approval as he sips from the cup. You fidget with your hands in front of you, eyeing him with the same scrutiny he had watched you with earlier in your encounter.

He does not note on the coffee you had readied for him; instead, he is fishing into his pocket. He pulls out a set of keys, handing them to you. “You are aware of the apartments on Oleander, correct?”

Taking the keys into your hands, you gaze down at them in confusion. Of course, you knew that only the most affluent resided in them. There was a sinking suspicion of where this was going deep in your gut.

“Mine is the penthouse at the very top. You will do my laundry and clean it until it is sparkling. Understood?”

There was a new feeling sated into your bones. Anger. Not to mention the fact that he expected you to go into his home when he was not present. “I don’t feel this arrangement would be very professional.” You fire back, trying to hide the malice dripping in your tone. He was toying with you.

Astarion’s eyes still held that teasing gleam as he spoke. “That’s undoubtedly alright. We have many other candidates coming in later today. I’m sure one of them would be up to the task.”

You close your eyes briefly, taking in a large breath of air in order to keep yourself calm. You open them once more, smiling wryly down at him. “I’d be happy to.” You mutter through gritted teeth.

“Brilliant.” Astarion states, standing from his seated position. He sets the mug down on an end table. “Oh, and do try to improve on your coffee-making abilities. That was rather lackluster.” 

How the fuck do you mess up black coffee?

There was no doubt left in your mind about what he was doing. You needed this internship, though, and you were prepared to go to questionable lengths to secure it. “Of course.” You deadpanned, no amusement left on your face. What an arrogant bastard.

“You can keep that set.” Astarion gestured to the keys in your hand. “I expect you’ll be done before I return home. I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.” The smirk never left his smug face as he spoke. He departs the room, surely to whatever big meeting is next on his agenda. Perhaps to terrorize someone else. You’re left standing there, dumbfounded at how wrong this entire day seemed to be going. 

As Astarion strides away, leaving you with the keys and the absurd task ahead, a maelstrom of thoughts swirls through your mind. You glance down at the keys in your hand, a symbolic link to the penthouse on Oleander that you are now responsible for. The weight of the situation settles on your shoulders, mixing with the frustration and determination that courses through your veins.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your composure. This might not be the internship you envisioned, but it's an opportunity nonetheless. You remind yourself of the stakes, the prestige of Ancunin Associates, and the potential doors this internship could open. Swallowing your pride, you decide to tackle the tasks ahead with a professional mindset. Even if he was not.

–

You hadn’t anticipated spending your day cleaning some corporate asshole’s million-dollar penthouse, yet here you were. No doubt, he had to have staff for this. So why was it being made your problem? The penthouse wasn’t anything that you weren’t expecting. It looked like it had been taken straight out of a catalog, and it seemed to be missing any warmth. There was nothing hung on the stark white walls, aside from small discreet security cameras tucked into the corners. You wondered briefly if he was watching you and decided he had to be. You were a complete stranger he had sent into his home by yourself. You mutter an expletive quietly, toeing off your heels by the front door. A few dishes are in the sink, and you figure that to be the best place to start.

As you tackle the dishes, the silence of the penthouse is only broken by the occasional distant hum of city life far below. The gleaming surfaces and pristine environment reflect the meticulous nature of the man who owns this place. You can't shake the feeling that every move you make is being observed by Astarion himself or by the unassuming security cameras.

While you scrub away at the plates, your mind replays the unusual turn of events. How did a promising legal internship morph into a personal assistant role with a side of housekeeping duties? The anger you felt towards the man came back in full force. You were well aware that you were being taken advantage of, but the need to prove yourself to Astarion gnawed at you either way. 

Think of the years of schooling, Tav. Of who you plan to be after graduation. You silently reminded yourself. 

As you navigate the unfamiliar kitchen, you spot a sleek tablet on the countertop. It seems to control various aspects of the penthouse – lights, temperature, and security. You make a mental note to familiarize yourself with it, realizing that understanding the intricacies of Astarion's living space might become essential.

The pristine silence is suddenly interrupted by the chime of an incoming message on the tablet. You approach it cautiously, noting Astarion's name on the notification. With a sense of trepidation, you open the message.

"Ensure you clean the living room thoroughly. I'll be hosting a small gathering there tonight. Impress me."

His words are concise, leaving you with a sense of urgency. The mundane task of washing dishes has evolved into preparing a high-profile space for an event you weren't aware of until now. A twinge of frustration simmers beneath the surface, but you push it aside, noting that you had only a few hours before the sun began to set.

You move from the kitchen to the living room, carefully dusting surfaces and arranging furniture to meet an unspoken standard of perfection. The penthouse, already immaculate, undergoes another level of scrutiny under your watchful eyes. You can't help but feel a sense of absurdity, thinking that a legal intern's day would involve ensuring the alignment of decorative pillows and the spotless shine of a glass coffee table.

As the day progresses, you are caught between bouts of irritation and determination. The controlled environment of Ancunin Associates has given way to the uncharted territory of Astarion's penthouse. The duality of your responsibilities — legal intern and personal assistant — blurs lines, leaving you grappling with the unexpected.

Stumbling into Astarion’s bedroom, you narrow your eyes at the scene before you. It was a change from who you had come to anticipate him as. Clothes were tossed carelessly to the ground, and upon further inspection, you were under the impression that one of these shirts could pay two months of your rent. You huff, gathering the misplaced clothes into your arms and setting them aside to be washed. You made quick work of putting his bed together, fluffing pillows, and tidying the sheets and blankets. 

Stepping into the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom, you prepare to toss out the small trash bin. Your eyes narrow, and you make a sound of disgust at the sight. Two used condoms were the only contents.

There’s no way in hell I’m touching that.

You grumble as you step back out of the bathroom, flicking the light off in your wake. You would settle on simply putting Astarion’s clothes in the washer and heading out. Surely he wouldn’t expect anything more of you? You had already spent hours here.

However, as you return to the living room, the notification chime on the tablet draws your attention again. Another message from Astarion, and the words cut through your plans this time.

"Make sure you check the bedroom and bathroom. Attention to detail is crucial. I trust you won't disappoint."

Your frustration spikes, but you suppress it, realizing that your choices in this matter are limited. Taking a deep breath, you return to the bathroom. You need this apprenticeship, Tav.

You gather the courage to dispose of the used condoms, not allowing yourself to dwell on the

contents of them. The situation's absurdity is not lost on you – an intern scrubbing someone else's bathroom, particularly a man of Astarion's means. You felt as if you were living in a movie.

The sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow through the expansive windows of the penthouse. Your eyes sweep the living room, confirming that it meets the standards Astarion expects for his gathering. Despite the challenging nature of the day, a slight sense of accomplishment settles within you. You may not have expected to play the role of a personal assistant, but you've embraced the challenge and proven your ability to adapt.

As you prepare to leave, the tablet chimes again, signaling a final message from Astarion.

"Lock up behind yourself. Be ready for a full day tomorrow. We have much to discuss."

The weight of the day lingers as you walk home. The anger festers in your chest, though you try not to indulge it. This couldn’t have been the first time Astarion has taken advantage of having a desperate college student under his thumb. You can’t help but think the people who had deemed this to be one of the best internships for criminal justice are full of shit. You grumble in distaste, your feet feeling as if they’re on fire from the miles you were walking back to your shithole apartment on the south side of town, ten miles from Astarion’s penthouse. At this rate, you had been walking for an hour and a half, yet you were only halfway there.

You lean down, slipping the high heels off of your burning feet and cradle them in your arms.

The cool night air hits your face as you continue your journey, heels in hand. The events of the day play over and over in your mind, and the determination to prove yourself mingles with the frustration of the unconventional tasks assigned to you. As you approach your apartment building, a mix of exhaustion and frustration boils deep in your chest. 

Opening the door to your modest apartment, you let out a heavy sigh. The contrast between Astarion's penthouse and your own space is stark, but a sense of resilience fuels your spirit. You toss the heels you had been holding aside and head straight to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Disheveled hair, tired eyes, but an unmistakable fire within them.

“Finally home?” A voice rings out, and you see Shadowheart leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, dangling two empty glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “I figured we could celebrate.” You sigh, leaning against the bathroom sink and turning to face her. She raises her eyebrows, wiggling the bottle in a way that wordlessly says, ‘you know you want to’. You did, but your knees felt weak under your weight and your calves burned to the hells. 

“I’m not even sure if there is anything to celebrate.” You snort in response, shooting her an apologetic look. She finally takes note of just how tired you truly looked, and her shoulders slumped. 

“You didn’t get it? I just assumed since you were gone all day.” Shadowheart furrows her brows. “What happened?”

“No, I did get it. I think.” You huff, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Though it’s not at all what I expected.”

Shadowheart sits on the edge of your bed, listening as you fill her in on the day's events. The arrogance of the one and only Astarion Ancunin. “So he has you cleaning his house? I mean, truthfully, the coffee thing isn’t totally unheard of. But his used condoms?” She makes a sound of distaste deep in her throat, screwing her face up to match her tone of disgust. 

“I’m a mess, Shadow.” You mutter, retreating from the bathroom in a fresh change of pajamas. The thought of spending a second more cleaning up his messes filled you with dread and, after knowing Astarion for only a day, you knew with full certainty that your distaste for the man would only grow.

“Was he as hot as the tabloids make him look?” She asks teasingly.

“Really?” You mutter, accepting the now-filled glass as you sit back into the pillows on your bed.

“What?” Shadowheart chuckles. “I’m just saying it may be more manageable if you’ve got eye candy to look at while you spend your days doing his laundry.” Her tone was teasing, though you knew there was a hint of truth in her tone.

The groan that left your lips was exasperated, bringing the wine glass to your lips and accepting the bitterly sweet liquid as it rolled over your tongue.

As you sip the wine, a mix of exhaustion and frustration settles within you. Shadowheart's attempt to lighten the mood brings a small smile to your face, but the reality of the situation looms large. The taste of the wine is a welcome reprieve, a momentary escape from the days to come with Astarion Ancunin ordering you about.

Nevertheless, the conversation with Shadowheart provides a brief respite. “He looks like a god if I’m being honest.” You finally admit with a slight chuckle. “Like he’s been cut straight from stone. He just so happens to be the biggest asshole I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.” 

You finish your glass and return it to her, smiling gratefully as she takes it. “You just so happen to be the toughest girl I know. It’s, what, a six-month internship? Just keep your eyes on the prize, Tav.” She reassures before letting out a yawn of her own. “That being said, I’ve got to be up early myself. I’ll make sure you’re actually awake before I leave.” Shadowheart says pointedly.

Once she leaves, you relax into your duvet, eyes closing as relaxation settles into your bones for the first time since you’d sprung out of bed that morning. No, nothing had gone particularly how you had hoped. Shadowheart’s words stoked the burning fire of ambition inside of you, and you felt eternally grateful to call her your friend.

Just keep your eyes on the prize, Tav.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #tav #reader #au!astarion x tav #au!astarion x reader #au #au!astarion

[natriae]

Chapter 7: It would make one hell-of-a statement

<prev | next>

masterlist

cw// suggestive, smut, disorientation

"ya good?" a slightly monotoned voice asked from behind the bar. Osamu just closed the restaurant and now the two of you were left to clean and prep for tomorrow. Osamu came back a few minutes after Reina appeared allowing Atsumu to leave with her. No Sumu I'm not fine.

"Yeah, all good. Why?" you questioned, continuing to wipe down the tables. You don't need to know why. You know exactly why he asked. You kept making small errors all day, not new hire errors, like your head wasn't in the right spot, and you definitely were just staring off into space while wiping the table.

"you've been wipin' that table fer like five minutes," he states in a way you can tell he finds in amusing. Turning around you watch as he stacks the metal containers to be cleaned in the back, and there it was, a small smile on his face. His grey eyes glance up at your very unamused face. "Hey, I'm jokin'," is all he says before disappearing behind the beaded curtain.

Of course you're gonna be off. You got laid off and now your here back at a restaurant... working. The one place you vowed to never come back too. And his stupid brother is messing with your heart and head. It's like you're back in middle school. Watching the popular boy flaunt around with everyone, but leaving you in the dust. Stupid Atsumu, with his stupid blond hair, and his stupid smirk that makes your tummy do flips, and his stupid stupidly sexy body. You don't even need to close your eyes to remember the way that compression shirt hugged his torso. The way you were able to see his biceps bulge in the tight short sleeves ever time he served a table. It pisses you off the way everyone seems to know him better than you. Like your just a stranger to him, and yes you've kept him at a distance for a reason but now...what was the point?

Finishing up for the night Osamu bids his goodbyes before locking the front door. Leaving you alone in the dark restaurant. Alone in the dark. Perfect.

"fuck, baby," a dark chuckle leaves the setters lips as his nose brushes along the column of your neck, "always takin' me so well," he moans out. His blonde hair covers the view of his penis pistoning in and out of you rwet pussy. The sounds were so unbelievably pornagraphic. Atsumu's brown eyes gaze back up into yours before stating, "ya better not get attached," His face of ecstacy quickly morfied into a face you've only seen once. His eyes void of any emotion, as he quickly gets off to put his pants back on. "ya better not tell 'er,"--

Rolling around in your bed you finally wake up with heavy breathing and a beating heart. What the fuck was that. Replaying the scene over and over again you can't help but feel the pull at your heart. He was using you. Yes, it was a dream but it still hurts.

Getting out of bed you feel weighted down. Your emotions that built up through the past week finally getting to you. Walking into the small bathroom you really take in your surroundings. The white bathtub with a chip on the side connecting to the wall, the paint chiping on the walls, the small slightly clouded mirror, and the sad toilet with a broken lid. When the twins said they redid the apartment they clearly didn't mean all of it. Looking in the mirror you notice the pimples on your forehead and the bags under your eyes. You can't work today. There's no way you're gonna make it without breaking down. After brushing you teeth you send a quick text to 'Samu and hop back into bed.

You contemplated your response as you snuggle more under the covers. As much as you feel that you can handle everything alone maybe having someone there won't be so bad. 'sure' you type.

Not even 30 mins later there's a knock on your door even though you know he has a key. "coming!" you yell and you run to the door. The younger twin steps in and quickly slips off his shoes. The smile on his face giving you the smallest burst on energy. "why aren't you wearing your uniform?" you question the man. He showed up in jeans and a long sleeve shirt, no Onigiri patch to be found. Not even a hat in sight.

"I closed the shop today" He says like it the most obvious thing in the world. The tall man waltes past you into your livingroom.

"why? Because of me?" You question not believing his rash decision.

"yeah, yer family now," he turns around and smiles his eyes closing for a moment. You move over to him and lift your hand. "ah, no complainin' what's wrong little one?" He says as he wraps his arms around you. Hand on the back of your head forcing you tighter to his chest.

Pushing him away you walk over to the couch and cover yourself with a blanket. Osamu simple follows along and plops down on the cushions next to you. "By the way i wanned ta apologize for 'sumu dressin' likeah slut again," he states, his accent coming out stronger than usual, but still clear enough for you to understand.

"what are you talking about?"

"his shirt, we made Onigiri shirts together when the store first opened 'cause, I mean, I didn't really have the money," he explains shaking his head, " 'tsumu said he'd help, but of course he hadda use one of his workout shirts. Which might I say doesn' fit him anymore." He finishes waving his finger around accusingly.

"ahh, you said again, is he normally a slut?" you question with a small giggle at how angry Osamu is.

"Nah, just fer show. The minute a girl actually wants somethin' from him he hides," The younger twins laughs, "I hava hard time believin' he actually did lose his virginity," The two of you laugh at his antics, and you already feel closer to Osamu. There's something about these twins that just feel like home.

"How long have you guys known Rin and Reina?" you question, wanting to prod more but trying to stay cool.

"hmm, Rin moved here during highschool, so about then. Ten years maybe, but we're better with Rin, or at least I am,"

You hum at his response the mood instantly turning sour at the attention towards Rin. 'Samu noticing this perks up and says, "ion know what exactly happen between y'all, but I'm sure Rin' bein' a douche. I'll let you know if he says anything."

You nod at his clearfication. Is he insinuating that Atsumu is close with Reina? You begin to tuck yourself further into the blanket as you get lost in your thoughts. Osamu getting lost in his as well.

The chef giggles before starting, "ya know when we were little Reina had a big crush on 'Sumu," he laughs again thinking about it, "Rin was just glad it wasn't me but he still put a ban on us." you can clear see osamu getting caught up in remincing his voice drowing out by the beat of your heart. Why is it pounding so hard...

"oh!" Osamu's voice loudens at the thought, "I know it probably isn't the best for ya especially with, ya know," he gestures towards you and attempts to smile, "I really need someone to come with me to the JVA beginning of the season-"

"no," is all you say. He doesn't even need to finish the sentence. If you hadn't been thrown out of the company you probably would have jumped at someone asking you to go with them to the Japan Volleyball Association ceremony, but now it's like putting salt on an open wound.

The day before the beginning of the season starts the Volleyball Association holds an annual ceremony to not only celebrate the start of the season, but also to allow new players to meet members from different teams. A way to build sportsmanship before things get heated. You loved it even though you only got to go once. No matter who you were if you were affiliated with the team a stylist would come with expensive gowns or suits and make you look like royalty.

"please, I don't have anyone else an' it would make one hell-of-a statement" he begs.

Tags: OPEN!

@thisbicc @lovley212 @kyowdani @bubblewordsofsodapop @peppersapro @kuroosluthoe @littlemochi @bai-wuxiangs-mask @anejuuuuoy @shotenvinsoot @msbyomimi @pocketful-ofdaisies @spilled-coffee-cup @briokayama @faumpje

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu imagine #atsumu #atsumu smut #atsumu fic #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya twins #miya atsumu x reader #osamu miya #haikyuu suna rintarou #hq imagines #hq fanfic #hq smut #hq angst #hq #haikyuu angst

[besthimbomachine]

my love when it counted. 01

summary: When Kenny’s ex girlfriend is hired to work at AEW he is forced to face his mistakes, his feelings, and the mess he’d made of something he once treasured. Not an easy thing, but pretending each other don't exist in some backstage cold war really wasn't going to help. (there was no abuse, violence, or cheating in their previous relationship) pairing: kenny omega x reader word count: 3337 warning: none, a little angst if you squint starting off easy in this chapter, this is more of an introduction, we pick up the pace (and the drama) way more in the next one, and you can expect smut later on in this too. Meanwhile, I'm also gonna be working on that smut yall voted for, so keep a watch to see when that comes out! Anyways, here is something that's NOT smut for you to read on this Holy Friday!!

01.

“Shit.”

Kenny’s hushed voice broke through the noise in the food court, his broken half whisper reaching Matt across the table. Looking up, he caught Kenny’s eyes widening in shock, like a deer in headlights. He watched as his friend went from shock to tension in a moment before he sent his gaze scattering down. Shit, and here he thought he’d be able to have a calm, peaceful meal. Just his luck.

By this point, Matt didn’t even need to look back to know the footsteps behind him were yours. Kenny’s reaction was confirmation enough. Just as the man looked down, you passed by Matt on your way, almost as if on cue. You walked in silence, but the sound of your boots cut through the background noise like a dagger. 

Matt knew you were pretending you didn’t see them. Well, pretending you didn't see Kenny. Whenever you saw Matt by himself you were always friendly. On his side, Kenny was - badly - pretending he didn’t see you. That was the unspoken agreement between you two. A cold war that felt terrifying from the outside, but that Matt only saw as sad. He could still remember the days when Kenny and you almost spoke in your own little language. Now he had to watch the two of you act like strangers and just come off being passive aggressive.

Looking up, Matt caught sight of an almost skittish Kenny finishing off his burger in a hurry. There was something unspeakbly weird about watching Kenny fucking Omega looking like some sort of stressed out prey animal. It could be even funny, had he not known that Kenny was more haunted by his own emotions than by you yourself. This was just depressing, tiring, and something Matt had told the man to solve even before his return to the ring. Looking around, he could already see a couple of people looking in his general direction, a sight escaping his lips as he looked back up again.

Kenny turned back to his friend just in time to catch a disapproving expression that he knew all too well by now. Honestly, he wasn’t doing this on purpose. It was just his reaction whenever you entered the room. Just as much as he was sure you weren’t doing the death glare on purpose, you just got on the defensive whenever your eyes crossed. The problem is, it wasn't easy avoiding each other. This situation was an every other show type of thing since Kenny returned to the ring. You’d cross each other for a few seconds and the air would already be tense. 

Shit, sometimes he wondered how he convinced Tony he’d be fine working with his ex.

But there wasn’t much else he could say about it. Kenny genuinely thought he could handle it, but he severely miscalculated your piercing gaze. Besides it’s not like he had anything he could do when Tony personally brought your name up. What would he say? ‘Yeah, no, don’t hire that amazing wrestler at the height of her career because I botched our relationship years and years ago’? Not the most valid of arguments. So, he sucked it up.

Or he tried, at least. God only knew he was trying. When Tony decided he’d hire you, Kenny had still been in recovery. Your name hit him like something out of this world. He felt like the air was infused with your perfume but turned ice cold, freezing his lungs as he tried to draw breath. Like flowers in a graveyard, the bitter sweet beauty of something long gone.

You were good - great actually. So it only made sense. The best business decision. He’d have made the same call in Tony’s place. Besides, far be it from him to stand in the way of your career. So, when the topic of conversation came to that and Tony finally asked if Kenny would be ok with it, he easily agreed. Nodding his head and smiling, assuring himself that it would work. It would have to.

But back then he was still in recovery, stuck at home. This problem would be for another day. But the day always comes. His first two weeks back he hadn’t seen you. No show he was at, you were at. It was a blessing and a curse, living on the edge of a precipice, waiting for the moment he would fall. So, as he waited, he tried to mentally prepare for the inevitable day your paths would cross.

It didn’t work. 

Of course it wouldn’t. How does he even prepare for something like this? You were like a force of nature - at least for him - wrecking his emotions like a fucking tornado. You had that effect on him. The love, the pain, the guilt - just the sight of your eyes stirred them all up in him. Like a storm contained within your gaze.

At first he tried being civil around you, it had been over five years, he was sure you could do it. And you could, playing civility like a good adult, a bit too well even. But the cold politeness of your voice froze his lips and dried his throat. He could feel the burn in his skin, like being dropped in an icy lake. Any deviation from that tone was always aggressive, and Kenny knew your anger was justified, he couldn't really blame you.

It didn’t take him long to decide that speaking was way worse than not speaking. The new plan was to keep his head low and dodge confrontation. He’d avoid pissing you off and maybe, if you were both polite about the whole thing, you’d seem like just strangers. Just leave you to your business and hope you wouldn’t see each other quite so often. Too bad for him, there is only so much space backstage.

“Come on,” Matt’s voice broke Kenny from his thoughts. 

When he looked up again he saw Matt getting up, holding the last of his fries as he signaled for them to go. Kenny could see the same disapproving look still burning in his friend's eyes. Getting up, he followed Matt, though, as he got back to the hallway, he stole another glance before turning around. 

Kenny’s gaze caught yours, just as you were turning back, coffee in hand. The sight was almost nostalgic, like he’d been sent straight back to the past. You had a match in thirty minutes and Kenny remembered this habit of yours pretty well. You’d always get coffee before a match, almost your own good luck charm. For a moment it was like time just hadn’t passed. But the moment soon was gone as he followed Matt into the hallway.

You watched as Matt and Kenny turned a corner, Kenny’s eyes catching yours for a second before they were both gone. There was tension in your muscles and bones as you started making your way to your locker room. You’d been trying to avoid Kenny as much as possible, avoid his gaze like it was the devil. Though, every now and again you’d turn around and find him staring at you. Find his eyes on yours only if just for a moment. And every time you met those baby blues you could feel all the pain you’d pushed down bubbling up to the surface.

Sometimes you wondered if accepting this job had been the right thing to do. Maybe you should have passed it down, thanked Tony for his offer and sent him on his way. Not that you had much of an option though, your time at WWE had finally started wearing you out. The lack of creative freedom making everything  a constant struggle. You almost lost your love for this job all together. 

So, when Tony Khan came forward with an invitation, you had no choice but to accept. What else would you do? Leave wrestling at this point? Not an option. Returning to New Japan was on the table, but you knew that whole place would scream Kenny. You wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without remembering that man. In the end, AEW was the best option. And they offered more money than New Japan, it was easy math.

The only problem was being around the man himself. But you knew that as long as you didn’t have to spend too much time together, you could do it. Be civil, be polite, be professional. You tried that, until he decided to just start pretending you weren’t there all together. And if that was the way he wanted things to be, so be it. Enough of civil and polite, you’d be silent, be curt, be distant. And try not to get caught watching one of Kenny’s matches from one of the backstage monitors. Again.

You couldn’t be sure if Matt knew that you knew, but from the corner of your eye you’d seen him watching you before you moved away. He was courteous enough to not mention anything when he came up to talk to you, and for that you were more than thankful. That was early into Kenny’s return, early into you both seeing each other again. Matt - and Nick - had kept that respectful politeness, never bringing your previous relationship up. You were friendly with the brothers and they were friendly with you. But you could feel in Matt’s eyes that hidden look of sorrow reserved for when you can’t really say what you are thinking.

In all honesty, you were just thankful you weren’t getting this look from anybody else. If Nick had the same feelings he did a better job at hiding them. You weren’t close with Adam Cole so you couldn’t know what he thought, but you didn’t really think he cared this deeply. And Hangman, despite being very friendly and warm since your arrival, never really tried bringing up the topic. Anybody else who’d know the story were also smart enough to keep to themselves. It was better that way. You figured that since Matt was closest to Kenny, he’d be the one most involved in this whole ordeal anyways.

As you arrived at the locker room you convinced yourself that it didn’t matter now. It was all in the past. Kenny, his selfish behavior and any feelings you had for him were now relics that you promised to leave behind when you took that plane in Japan. You were a different person from all those years ago and Kenny could hold you down no longer. And if Matt had anything to say he could speak up or leave it. But now, neither of them mattered, you had a match to fight. A match to win. And win you would.

From his spot backstage Kenny could hear clearly the moment your entrance music started playing. The crescendo of the beat over the booming crowd filling his ears as he made his way around the place. The song now was nothing like the one he had gotten used to associating you with. It was more aggressive and intense than your old New Japan song. It was a good song, great even. But it made his heart heavy with the realization of how much time had passed, and how time can change people.

Before the bell could ring he spotted one of the monitors backstage, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw you on the screen. He’d gotten into this bad habit since he returned, whenever you had a match he’d find the most isolated TV backstage and watch it from there. The first time he did it he said it would be only once, to fill his curiosity, he wouldn’t keep on doing this. Clearly, that didn’t work out.

Truth is, he didn’t watch your fights before you came to AEW. Well, mostly. In the beginning he refused to watch your matches out of pride. But when your absence started gripping at his heart he finally caved. Kenny missed you with him but he missed seeing you in the ring too, New Japan felt emptier without you. So one day he gave in and watched one of your fights.

He tuned in just as you were making your way to the ring, sporting new gear with a bold new song to go with it. The match started and you were beautiful, magnificent even. An exuberant exhibition of power and athleticism, of speed and resilience. You were better than before, stronger, more daring. An unleashed storm that had stayed far too long contained. It had been a few months since you left and you were doing well. You seemed to even be doing better. 

Kenny could feel jealousy and envy gripping at him, tasting like acid in his mouth. He wanted to hate the way you looked in the new gear but he couldn’t deny how it flattered your body in the best ways. When the match ended and your song played he could feel the music sticking in his throat and choking his breath. But the worst part was the voice in the back of his mind whispering a question: had he been holding you back all this time? When he turned off the TV his throat felt sore and his body tense, trying hard to push these thoughts to the back of his mind. 

That cycle would repeat a couple more times. He’d miss you more and want to know about your life and thus, he’d go looking for your matches - you’d blocked him on social media so that's as good as he got. Though, every time he’d feel bad, at first it was jealousy, but soon it morphed into something heavier, duller, and far more contemplative. After watching a couple of your matches, and feeling pain creep into his mind every single time, he just decided to let it go. Let you live your life without him knowing any of it.

And that was how he lived for years, only occasionally hearing any news about you. That is, until the news was that you were joining AEW. Now he sat in an empty corner backstage, watching your fight from a monitor in the wall. Like an addict, he kept coming back, watching every match with glued eyes. It still brought a tinge of pain from the corners of his mind but he just couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t bear being in the same arena as you and not watching you fight. It just felt wrong.

Time had been kind with Kenny though, mellowing his conflicting thoughts and brash nature until he could finally enjoy the show. He watched as you stood on the ropes, facing the crowd in pride as your song died down. The leather in your gear shining under the spotlights, shaping your body as your exposed skin glowed under the bright colors. It was a sight to behold, you were just as beautiful as the day you left New Japan. Maybe even more. 

The bell rang and the match started and Kenny was already leaning forward, wide blue eyes fixed on your image on the screen. You moved with purpose and ferocity, an electric storm taken human form, just as dangerous and grand. Watching you like this was almost like going back to the old days. Like you’d meet after the match and he’d drag you into some dark broom closet to sate the desire you caused on him. Not like he didn’t want that right now. You still had that same effect on him, the sight of your disheveled hair and the way you looked in your gear having his blood rushing down in record time.

But he knew that was then and this was now. He couldn’t keep on feeding a longing that would lead nowhere. Over the time he’d been watching your matches, Kenny couldn’t help but notice the changes. There was more certainty to your step now, doubt like a non existent thought to you. There was more of an edge too, the hunger and fearlessness of an apex predator. 

It was clear you’d gained experience and wisdom but it still was like time hadn’t passed, at least not for you. You kept the same energy and agility from before, maybe even more. Still fast to get back on your feet, and even faster to regain the upper hand. An athlete in peak form. It made Kenny even more conscious of how he’d started feeling time and his injuries weighing down on his bones. Like he’d aged twenty years while you only aged five.

Shaking his head he tried to ignore those thoughts. Focus on the match, on the way your body moved and the magnetism it held over him, like the ocean to the moon. Kenny watched you with bated breath, shaking in his seat whenever a hit landed, tensing whenever you went down. It was like the backstage got warmer as he could feel the sweat gathering on his hands, lip caught between his teeth as he watched you make the crawl to the ropes.

Kenny hated this part, of course he knew you weren’t made of glass - you’d told him that a million times - but he still did. He was fidgeting in place as he watched your hand reach its target, digging his nails into the box under him. You struggled back to your feet and Kenny’s eyes widened with every shot you took, a smile breaking through his grin when you finally landed a hit again. 

Regaining your footing, you made a run for the corner and Kenny felt his chest tighten. Your love of the top rope always had him tense as he watched you climb up with ease and prepare for a jump. He watched with held breath as you wound up before taking flight, body twisting in the air. With a sigh he released the breath from his lungs as you landed a perfect corkscrew moonsault, the crowd outside cheering alongside him. That sealed the fight as you pinned your opponent and soon the three count was done, bell ringing outside as your song started playing.

Kenny sighed in relief, watching as you raised your fists in victory. You’d won, no ugly hits, no bad falls, a beautiful match, perfectly done. He felt lighter knowing his worries had been for nothing, as he always did at the end of your matches - although, in the back of his mind he always knew, all it took was one unlucky moment. Your song started dying down once more as you made your way back, Kenny getting up and stretching to release the stress in his body. When he turned around, he saw Matt in the hallway.

“She is still quite something, isn’t she?” Matt’s voice was soft, a mix of awe and sorrow seeping through his low tone. Kenny couldn’t tell if that was nostalgia or something worse all together.

“Damn,” Kenny paused, hand sliding down his hair as words failed him for a second, “she’s something else already. A whole other beast,” he paused again, hoping his voice didn’t betray the tightness in his throat. “Makes New Japan seem even longer back,” with effort, Kenny looked back at Matt, being met with his friend’s piercing gaze and hoping his eyes didn’t reveal the deep crack in his heart or how heavy it weighed on him.

“Yeah,” Matt smiled, white teeth showing but the expression still not fully reaching his eyes, “come on man, show is gonna end soon, we gotta get ready.”

Walking up to Kenny, he threw his arms over his friend’s shoulder, holding tight as he guided them into the hallway. They both knew what Matt really wanted to say - yet again. Though this time Kenny needed to hear this, he needed to talk about it, for everyone's sake. But this was a conversation to be had in private, alway from the praying eyes backstage. So Matt would save it for when the night was over, and hope this time they could make that leap.

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega #aew imagine #aew fanfiction

[hugmekenobi]

S2: The Bad Batch (9)

Chapter Nine: The Crossing

Gif by @dreamswithghosts

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: Echo leaving your squad is something you all have to deal with. A mission from Cid sees the effects of this change become obvious and tensions rise.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, use of a pet name (sweetheart), mild spicy moment that stops abruptly, familial angst, reader and Tech kinda get into it, reiterating the Force works how I need it to cause it's a more obvious theme in this chapter lol, kissing, reader described as being strong, general emotions (I'm terrible writing them so apologies)

Word Count: 7.6K

Author's notes: Didn't know I'd be releasing this today but I got it done and wanted to share :) Beginning to work on Ch10 too! Enjoy!

“You left pretty soon after Cid briefed us?” Hunter said as he came through the door of the ship to find you sitting in the cockpit.

“It’s getting harder to be in her company.” You provided as an explanation. Cid had been less than sympathetic when you all had told her about Echo and the more days that went by and the more stressed she got about time running out on her operation, the more unpleasant she became.

Hunter knew exactly what you meant. The necessary but minimal financial payoff of sticking around was slowly becoming not worth the shitty jobs or putting up with Cid’s general demeanour. Ideally, he’d have you all leave to do something else, but he kept coming up empty on the latter part of that plan.

“Where are the others?” You asked.

“I sent them to gather supplies before we leave.” Hunter explained. He came to kneel in front of you and traced his hands up and down your thighs, making his ulterior motive for sending the others on an errand run quite clear.

Oh, how you loved a man that planned ahead. It had been quite a long time since the two of you had had any alone time and the frustration had been building for a while now. Lingering looks and innocent touches that threatened to turn not so innocent the more you both did them and it was threatening to boil over so, with jobs from Cid still being scarce, you two had decided to take advantage of an empty Marauder. “So, we have about 30mins give or take.” You said with a suggestive grin.

“Uh huh but we can’t mess about. We’ll have to be quick.” Hunter replied regretfully but he figured a quick moment was better than no moment at all, especially given the recent dry spell.

“Hhmm you have the dirty talk down to an art form.” You breathed as you stood and grabbed his scarf and started leading him back to your bunk.

Hunter’s reply took the form of cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He laid you down without parting his mouth from yours because it had been too fucking long since he’d been able to do this.

You moaned in relief at having him this way again. You tangled your fingers in his hair and kissed him back with fervour.

Hunter kissed his way down your chest, and he reached for the waistband of your leggings, but he paused and grumbled in annoyance.

You propped yourself on your elbows. “Why’d you-” It was then you heard why he’d stopped-Wrecker wasn’t exactly softspoken. “They really have impeccable timing.” You groaned. You pushed him off you with an aggravated huff and fished out both sets of armour so it would look like the two of you were getting prepped for the mission rather than looking like anything improper was about to happen.

“That was quick?” You said casually as Omega came through the door first, hoping any signs of being flustered or caught off guard had left your face.

Omega merely shrugged and set off to her room.

You followed the young girl’s back. You knew she was taking Echo leaving a bit harder than the rest of you and you hoped there’d be opportunity to talk to her about it properly soon.

“We got the supplies but gotta say Sarge, I don’t know where you got the rest of this stuff cause it doesn’t actually exist here.” Wrecker said as he came aboard.

“Not on this planet anyway.” Tech added as he stored some of the food away.

You made stuff up? You turned to Hunter with an affectionate smile.

“Thought it would buy more time. I forgot Tech would be aware that they weren’t available here.” Hunter mumbled as the ship took off.

You chuckled. “Guess your mind was elsewhere huh?”

“It definitely wasn’t on ipsium mining.” Hunter grunted.

You laughed in agreement. “Well, gotta focus up Sergeant, we have a mission to complete.” You said, patting his thigh.

You stood and walked along the hallway before you had to stop. Your lips and body still tingled with remnants of what nearly happened. Yeah, you were not a fan of this whole dry spell situation. You leaned your hand against the wall and released a long, deep breath in order to channel a sense of calm and to get yourself back in mission mode.

“Come on, sweetheart, we have a mission to complete. Can’t be getting distracted now, can we?” Hunter teased as he walked past you to join his two brothers in the cockpit.

You showed him your middle finger with a playful glare before you also went to the cockpit.

--

The location of the mines was utterly depressing. It was a barren wasteland. Nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. You sensed this mission would amount to very little and just be an unnecessary waste of time.

You found yourself having a rare moment of wishing you had a helmet like the other three. You and Omega both had to shield your eyes from the dust that the ship stirred up as it had landed.

You all made your way around the corner and found the entrance to the mine Cid had sent you to.

“According to Cid’s coordinates, this is the mine she purchased.” Tech confirmed as he studied his datapad and walked up to the controls.

“And we’re supposed to do what?” Omega asked monotonously. Cid hadn’t given clear direction in the briefing. She had seemed to think stating that she was sending you all to her ipsium mine was enough information.

“Excavate the site got ispium. It is tremendously valuable when refined.” Tech explained. “However, in its raw state, the mineral is highly combustible, like a primed thermal detonator.” He included in his answer before he wiped some of the grime away from the control panel and inserted the key to open the mine doors.

“Sounds dangerous. I like it.” Wrecker said with a laugh.

The door creaked open, and the entry platform was raised but before any of you made a move to enter, Hunter turned to the sound of thunder in the distance and looked at the clouds on the horizon. He knelt down and ran his hand through the red dust.

“Problem?” You asked him.

He thought for a moment. “The storm’s moving away from us. We should be fine.” Hunter replied as he stood. “Tech, (Y/N), and I will mine the ipsium. Wrecker, Omega, you’re on lookout.”

“Both of us?” Wrecker questioned.

“Without Echo, we are a man down. We need Wrecker to assist with operations in the mine.” Tech mentioned.

The mention of Echo had Omega letting out a sad sigh. “You four go. I’ll be the lookout.” She said flatly.

“I really don’t think we need four people for this. Three should be fine.” You said.

“(Y/N) is right. Two sets of eyes are better out here. Cid warned us about poachers in the area. Keep your eyes peeled and comm us if you see anyone.” Hunter ordered before he picked up the mining gear and the three of you headed inside the mine.

--

The three of you walked through the dark tunnel. The only sound was the rhythmic beeps of Tech’s scanner.

“My scans are not indicating a sizable presence of ipsium.” Tech stated as he stared at his datapad. “Looks like Cid was deceived into purchasing an already depleted mine.” Tech added.

“Gee, there’s a shock.” You muttered but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug at the idea of Cid being ripped off.

“Keep scanning. We’ll extract whatever we can.” Hunter said.

You continued to walk for a short while before Tech’s voice stopped you both.

“Wait. I am getting a faint reading.” He lowered his visor and looked up. “There.” He pointed to a high corner of the mine.

The three of you walked over to the section of wall it was located in.

Tech peered up. “The ipsium is going to be difficult to reach.”

“We’ll need to carve out a bigger opening in the rock to get it.” Hunter figured.

“The mineral is far too unstable.” Tech disputed.

“Or I can just…” You clicked your tongue and gave a small wave of your hands.

Tech shook his head. “Any carelessness or slightest friction around it can cause a destructive chain reaction.”

You bristled at the word carelessness. “I’d be careful.”

“You can’t predict-”

“I can predict my unique skillset better than you can.”

“I’m sure-”

Sensing rising tensions, Hunter interfered. “What do you suggest, Tech?”

You pulled back and reflected on what had just transpired. You couldn’t recall a time you had gotten actually irritated with Tech. And he was right, you could have the best intentions and apply the most care but dealing with a mineral this unpredictable needed something that was designed to get it properly. Evidently you were feeling more frustrated than you realised.

“Someone smaller climbs up.” Tech said simply.

“I’ll sub out.” You offered.

--

Omega moved the small pebbled across her hand before chucked it into the canyon.

Wrecker noticed the irritability in her throw. “Hey. What’s with you?”

“I was thinking about Echo. It’s weird without him around.”

Wrecker had to agree with her there, but it wasn’t really a new feeling for him. “Yeah. But you’ll get used to it.” He said to comfort her.

Omega’s comm beeped and Tech’s voice came through.

“Omega, we require your assistance.”

“On my way.” She replied and stood up with a tired sigh.

--

“How’s it going out here?” You asked as you came out the mine.

“Quiet.” Wrecker replied simply.

“Passed Omega on the way out. You notice anything off with her right now?”

Wrecker nodded. “I think she’s taking Echo leaving a bit harder than we are.”

“Yeah, I figured.” You agreed. “I almost snapped at Tech back there. She’s not the only one feeling the strain.” You said as you came to stand beside him. “How are you doing with it all?”

Wrecker breathed heavily and adjusted his blaster. “Alright, I guess. It definitely feels different but he’s doing what he needs to do.”

You sighed. “Yeah….” You trailed off for a moment before continuing, “Guess I’m just upset another person to provide impulse control has gone.” You added with a teasing nudge of your shoulder.

Wrecker chuckled and the two of you continued to keep watch in comfortable silence whilst you waited for the others.

--

Hunter gave Omega a hand up to where the ipsium was encased in the wall.

Omega got herself settled and took the drill from Hunter before she looked down to Tech. “Now what?”

“Drill into the fossilized quartz until you reach the active ipsium inside. But you must be precise. If the mineral becomes compromised during the retrieval…”

“Chain reaction, explosion. Got it.” Omega interrupted with a roll of her eyes. She started to drill into the blue quartz.

“Be… very… careful.” Hunter said slowly as he watched her.

“I… know.” Omega matched his tone as she focused on her task. When the drill got deep enough, she swapped it out for the syringe and successfully drained the yellow mineral. She passed the tube down to Hunter who passed it to Tech to store safely in the case.

Tech brought out the next tube. “Good. Again.”

--

Despite your talk with Wrecker, you couldn’t help but feel distracted. You understood why Echo had left and you were happy he had found this new path and purpose, but your mind kept wandering to worrying about what he was doing and if he was safe. You weren’t as sharp as you needed to be and that was a problem because it meant your ability to feel into the Force around you for any threats or anything out of place was compromised. As you felt your mind start to distance once more, you shook your head to get back to the current moment, but it was at that time that the others emerged from the mine so your attention was now on them.

“That storm’s changing course.” Wrecker informed as he walked up to join the others.

“The weather patterns on this planet are most irregular.” Tech said to Hunter. It wasn’t often that Hunter was wrong.

“We have what we came for. Let’s get back to Ord Mantell.” Hunter gave the case to Wrecker.

You were about to let yourself relax but when you saw the way Hunter suddenly stood more alert, you felt the unfamiliar presence by your ship, and it was then you knew you had royally messed up. You and Hunter sprinted back in the direction of the ship.

It was then the others heard the sound of an engine firing up.

“That sounds like our ship!” Omega gasped before she, Tech and Wrecker set off after you and Hunter.

You could only watch in despair as the Marauder flew off into the distance. You had fucked up. You had majorly fucked up. You cringed as Hunter whipped round to face you and Wrecker.

“You two were supposed to be on lookout!” He snapped before he turned away with a shake of his head and removed his helmet.

“There was no one there!” Wrecker protested.

“Clearly that was not the case.” Tech said.

“Shut up, Tech. That’s not helpful.” You said harshly before you risked stepping next to Hunter. “Hunter, we couldn’t see anyone.”

“You should have.” Hunter couldn’t help but say to you.

You pulled your mask down. “I know that. I’m sorry.” You didn’t bother explaining that your head hadn’t been present. That would just make things worse, and it was a poor excuse. You were more disciplined than that.

“There has to be a way to get it back, right?” Omega asked Hunter, unable to keep the distress out her voice.

Hunter said nothing, the violent storm ahead was proving to be a more immediate concern right now.

“Tell me, how exactly did you two miss our ship being compromised?” Tech asked you and Wrecker.

You turned to glare at him. “Gee, I don’t know. Could it possibly be because you felt the need to park behind this giant cliff face?”

“Yeah, maybe if you hadn’t docked it out of view, we would’ve seen someone approaching.” Wrecker agreed, his level of frustration matching yours.

“Well, there was no other suitable landing zone. Besides, I thought your particular skillset wouldn’t see such a thing as being an issue.” Tech couldn’t help but quip in your direction.

“Tech, don’t even-”

“I’m merely pointing out a flaw in your previous argument in the mine.”

“Parking a ship out of view in an area known for poachers seems like a pretty big flaw to me too.” You retorted angrily.

Omega’s eyes darted between you all and feelings of distress and concern started to rise within her. A few weeks without Echo and everything seemed to be falling apart.

Hunter sighed and spoke up. “We can’t stay here. Where’s the nearest town?”

Tech examined his datapad. “During our approach, I scanned a spaceport approximately 40 klicks south of here.” He signalled the direction. “Perhaps we can acquire transport there.”

“You know how long that would take?” Wrecker griped.

“Since we do not have access to long-range communications without our ship, it is our only option.”

“Let’s move.” Hunter directed.

You set off towards the canyon, a veil of awkward hostility draped over you all as you made your way down. You didn’t like feeling this tense, but it seemed to be the common theme right now. Clearly, Echo’s loss was being felt more than any of you had anticipated.

--

You’d been walking for a couple hours and there was no end in sight. It was hot and your mouth was dry, and you felt like your face had a layer of dust caked over it. You wiped a hand across your forehead.

“How much further?” Wrecker asked as he took his water back from Omega.

“You will not like the answer.” Tech replied.

“Here.” Hunter handed you his water cannister.

You took a few small sips from it before you handed it back. “Thank you.”

Hunter nodded as he took it back.

“Are we okay?” You asked tentatively.

“Yeah.” Hunter said.

“I know I should’ve done better back there….”

Hunter sighed. Today had been the closest the two of you had gotten to having a falling out and he wasn’t a fan. “I know you do.” He replied. “There’s no sense in me putting you down when I’m sure you’re doing that plenty enough on your own.”

“You’d be right about that.” You said with a grim smile.

“You and Wrecker were both there and the ship was parked in a poor area, so it isn’t your error to carry alone. A mistake was made but if we dwell on what happened, we won’t make it through this. We gotta move on.”

You reflected on that for a moment. “Sometimes I forget that you can be quite the wise leader when you want to be.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes.” Hunter said lightly. “We’re fine.” He confirmed.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Havoc-4, this is Havoc-5. Do you copy?” Omega called into her commlink. “Echo? Are you there?”

He’s too long-range. Echo won’t pick up our signal.” Hunter told her.

“Especially since he disabled his communication device.” Tech informed.

“What? Why?” Omega asked anxiously.

“I assume he’s on a sensitive mission.” Hunter’s raised arm halted any further explanation from Tech.

You all stopped.

The most you could pick up on was the nerves of the people around you. Whatever threat he was sensing, it wasn’t human.

Hunter studied the ground beneath him and saw the vibrations in the ground.

It wasn’t long before the rest of you felt the deep rumble in the canyon and you all turned to look behind you as it grew louder.

“What’s that?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“Run!” Hunter ordered, nudging Omega in front of him.

--

The stampede caught up to you all rapidly and it was now a case of staying on your feet long enough to find cover and not get trampled to death.

Hunter pulled Omega out the way of one of the oncoming deer-like creatures. He glanced up and saw the opportunity to get clear. “There.” He pulled out his grappling hook and threw it to the rocky ledge that formed a thin bridge across the canyon. He let Omega up first before he started to climb with Tech close behind.

You waited until Wrecker secured his, but he had barely attached it before you both got caught up in amongst the stampede.

“Wrecker! (Y/N)!” Omega cried.

Hunter scanned the area anxiously, hoping beyond hoping that you both would reappear quickly.

Tech also looked below for any signs of you but all he could see for the moment was the backs of the animals.

It felt like hours, not a matter of seconds before you both reappeared. You don’t know how you managed to achieve it, but somehow you were both able to scramble up the wire into safety. The only casualty being the case filled with ipsium was left behind.

“You must protect the ipsium case.” Tech shouted to Wrecker.

You knew better than to offer your services. One strike out from an animal as you lifted that case out of there and you’d all definitely be done for. You felt bad for Wrecker though.

“Well, what about protecting me?” Wrecker replied fretfully as he peered down to the intimidating scene below.

“If it explodes, we’ll all be dead.” Tech yelled back.

Wrecker took a few deep breaths before he dropped down and shielded the case with his body.

You all watched on uneasily but within a few moments, the last of the stampede had passed.

You and the others slid back down to the ground.

Hunter helped Omega down before he came over and placed his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?”

You nodded before you indicated over to Wrecker. “It’s really him we should be asking.” How you doing, Wrecker?

“My back.” Wrecker grunted in reply as he shakily stood up and stretched his spine.

“I would advise not dropping it next time.” Tech told him.

“Why don’t you carry it?” Wrecker snapped.

“Fine.” Tech replied simply before he lugged the case over his back.

You stared past them and sighed at the sight of the dark dust clouds approaching with the sounds of thunder in their wake. “Well, that would certainly explain the stampede.”

You all started to run once more.

--

Bit of churned up rock bashed against your back as you ran, and it was the second time in the space of a matter of minutes that you were all swallowed up by a threat of nature.

“We need to find shelter!” Hunter yelled over the wind.

“There is another mine. Thirty metres ahead!” Tech said.

“I see it!” Omega shouted in confirmation.

You all veered off to the left and sprinted for the door but the conditions being what they were and running with a heavy case meant Tech tripped and fell.

You and Wrecker noticed he’d fallen behind and you both dashed back to help him up.

“The case!” Tech protested as you both helped him to his feet.

You squinted through the clouds of dust and took half a step forward to try and retrieve it, but a bolt of lightning struck a bit too close for comfort.

“(Y/N), forget it!” Wrecker bellowed.

You knew he was right, you turned on your heels and the three of you headed for the safety of the mine.

“Where’s the ipsium?” Omega asked loudly over the thunder and lightning.

You all faced the canyon and saw the case be carried up in the wind and struck by another bolt of lightning.

“Get down!” Hunter cried.

You all barely made it down the mine tunnel before the rocks behind you exploded and tumbled to the ground and you were encased in darkness.

--

Hunter lit up his lantern and led the group of you back in the direction of the entrance only to find it was completely sealed off due to the cascade of rocks that had come crumbling down thanks to the ipsium explosion.

“So, now we are trapped.” Tech declared. “And we have lost all of our ipsium.”

You could feel his gaze flicking between you and Wrecker. “And I suppose that’s our fault too?” You said coolly as you kept your eyes from him and stared at the mess ahead of you.

“Well, technically, yes. If you had not let our ship get stolen, we would be aboard it right now with the mineral.”

Hunter saw the challenging stares between the three of you. “None of this is helping. Can you move them?” He asked you.

You regretfully shook your head. You knew your limits and right now, with everything going on, you had reached them. Even when you’d had the proper training and guidance, whenever you reached this point of emotional conflict, you were of little use to anyone in the Force-wielding department. Your head was completely scrambled, and your emotions were all over the place. It had been a long time since you’d felt this undisciplined.

“I thought moving rocks was a simple feat for someone like you.” Tech couldn’t help but say.

“Tech.” Hunter scolded, his voice rising slightly.

You turned to him sharply. “Tech, believe it or not, my ability is something I know more about than you do and I’m telling you right now, it won’t get us anywhere. Now I could wander off or meditate for hours on end to get myself back on top form or I can help move these boulders the same way the rest of you are.”

“Then let’s start digging.” Hunter ordered, not wanting to give Tech a chance to respond for fear of what it could lead to.

“Fine.” Wrecker grumbled as he shouldered past Tech.

--

Helmets had been long since removed and you’d also removed your top layer to be left in your vest top to stay cool.

Omega tapped the datapad and paced anxiously whilst the rest of you continued the laborious process of removing the boulders. “Something’s not right. The Marauder’s transponder isn’t relaying a signal.”

“It was probably disabled by the thief who commandeered it.” Tech theorised with another jagged stare towards you and Wrecker.

The rock you were moving cracked down the middle, but you said nothing as you pushed each half away, and Wrecker just released an irritated growl.

“Well, then how are we gonna track it?” Omega asked.

“The ship’s not important right now. We need to get outta here first.” Hunter said.

“Quite correct.” Tech concurred. “Besides, it is most unlikely that the Marauder will be recovered.” He said plainly started to push against another boulder but made little headway.

“What? Don’t say that. We have to get it back!” Omega said, her distress rising once more.

“We can always acquire another ship. It is merely a mode of transportation.”

“The Marauder’s our home. We already lost Echo. We can’t lose that too.” She said,

You paused what you were doing and looked over at her and the toil Echo leaving had taken on her was evident. Your infighting probably wasn’t helping either.

“Omega, we didn’t lose Echo.” Hunter said as he worked his way down from the boulders towards her. “He’s just… on a different mission.” He tried to explain.

“But he’s not here. He’s- He’s not with us. We’re supposed to be a squad.” She protested.

“This squad existed before Echo was a part of is, and it will exist after. What is your issue?” Tech asked bluntly.

Omega recoiled with a glare at Tech before she chucked his datapad at him.

“Omega-” Hunter called tenderly as he went to reach for her.

“I want to be alone.” She said roughly as she picked up one of the lanterns and walked further down the mine.

You all turned to stare at Tech.

“You really are firing on all cylinders today.” You spat.

“I merely stated the truth.” Tech said.

“She already knows the truth. That’s why she’s upset.” Hunter added, a hint of frustration coming through at his brother’s lack of sensitivity.

Wrecker shook his head at Tech.

Tech said nothing, he merely moved to another boulder.

--

Wrecker groaned as he cleared another boulder. “It’ll take days to clear a path at this rate.”

“Complaining won’t make it go faster.” Hunter said frankly.

“And it may not be days, maybe a few more hours.” You said with a bit more levity in your tone as you moved a couple boulders away with a flick of your wrist. The methodical nature of the task had seen you start to find your centre once more and you were feeling more in tune with the Force again.

“Alternatively, this weapon could use a well-placed detonation.” Tech strained as he leveraged himself on against one boulder and used his legs to try and dislodge the one in front of him. “A small amount of ipsium would be more than enough.”

“It’s like you’re wanting me to stay pissed off.” You said with a roll of your eyes before you moved another boulder away.

“And we had a small amount, but somebody dropped it.” Wrecker said as he took care of the boulder Tech was working on.

“Fine.” Tech said dully. “Since losing the mineral was my mistake, I’ll search for any potential extractions within this mine.”

“That’s not the only mistake you need to fix.” You pointed out. You all may have understood and accepted why Echo had left but the ripple effect of his departure was clear in the dynamics between you all at the minute, but Omega was struggling with the whole thing. You knew the four of you would get past this bump, but you weren’t certain Omega would unless someone had a proper sit down with her. Tech wouldn’t typically be your first choice, but he had seen to heightening Omega’s upset and he needed to learn why it had happened and rectify it too.  

“Yeah, go check on the kid.” Wrecker agreed.

“But she said she wanted to be alone.” Tech argued, confused as to why he should go after her when her intentions had been clear.

“Look, she’s clearly having a hard time adjusting to Echo leaving. Talk to her.” Hunter said.

“Very well.” Tech said with a sigh before he grabbed his pack and helmet and set off in the direction Omega had gone.

--

Tech’s scans brought him to a hole in the wall. He followed the tunnel, and he followed it until he saw through another gap in the wall the tell-tale blue light of the quartz that contained the ipsium and Omega’s stuff was right outside it. He peaked through to see her working diligently on mining the mineral. “Omega?” When she didn’t pay him any attention, he called her name again but removed his helmet and softened his voice, “Omega?”

“I’m busy.” Omega replied stand-offishly as she kept her focus on the drill.

“I can see that. Are you aware that you are surrounded by enough ipsium that, if not handled correctly, could take down this entire cavern?”

“Then you better not distract me.” She said as she extracted the ipsium. She took the vial out and lifted it up towards Tech.  “Thought we could use this to blow our way through the cave-in.”

Tech’s focus was on his datapad. “I came to a similar conclusion myself.”

“Little help?” Omega said grouchily.

Tech reached down and took it. “This vein appears to be much more pure than what we found in Cid’s mine. Perhaps you should extract as much ipsium as you can.”

“You trust me to do that?”

“I am fully aware you are capable of the task.”

Omega glanced away for a moment and shook her head at this typical Tech response, but she couldn’t dwell on it. “Grab the empty vials from my satchel.”

--

Omega handed over another vial. “How many are left?”

Tech shuffled through her bag. “This is the last one.” He revealed as he passed it down to her.

Omega looked to the piece of quartz that was hovering over a chasm in the carvern. It was just out of reach so she went as close to the edge as she could, but her foot slipped. She pulled back and stretched to try again but as she activated the drill, it fell from her hand, and she tumbled over the side. She was able to grab a hold of a rocky outcrop, but she dangled helplessly over the darkness below. “Tech!” She grunted.

Tech looked through the hole and upon seeing Omega’s situation, he instantly took off his pack and started to clamber through. “Hang on!”

Omega tried to hoist herself up, but she wasn’t able to, and her grip loosened, and she fell to another rock handle even further down.

Tech reached for her but could only watch with horror as her hold faltered and she fell into the chasm below with a scream. “Omega!” He didn’t hesitate. He jumped down after her.

--

What was below was a river with strong rapids and a current taking them both away. Tech swam and took a hold of Omega to try and keep her above the water, but they were unable to fight back against the flow and were at the mercy of the water as it took them away. They took a deep breath as they were both pulled under quickly.

--

The three of you all took a moment to rest. You wiped some sweat off your brow, but it was then you felt that familiar sensation you wished you had felt earlier in this shitty day. From the way Hunter’s face turned to a frown and he glanced down the mine, you guessed your instincts were back on side.

Wrecker noticed the look the two of you gave each other. “What is it?”

“Tech, come in.” Hunter said into his comm. “Omega, do you copy?”

When no reply came, you stood and pulled your top layer back over you and swiftly reattached your armour and vambraces turned to Hunter. “Something’s wrong.”

He nodded his agreement.

Wrecker and Hunter grabbed their helmets and the three of you set off to search for the others.

--

Tech and Omega came spilling out into a pool of water set aglow by the ipsium quartz that was beneath them. The water itself kept blue light radiating throughout the cave.

They swam to shore, coughing and spluttering. They both lay on their backs and Tech lifted his goggles to release the water that had leaked in. It was then that their comms chimed, and it was Hunter’s voice they heard.

“Tech, Omega, do you copy?”

Tech exhaled heavily as he pulled out his comm. “Affirmative. We took an unforeseen detour, but we are alive.”

“Where are you?”

“That is a good question. Stand by.”

Omega looked around the cave for any indication of their location. She glanced behind her, and something caught her eye. She got up and walked towards the faint yellow light that was shining through a crack in the cave wall. “Tech. Look.” She whispered.

Tech examined his datapad. “There is a passageway just beyond this wall. We could use the ipsiym you mined to access it.” He said excitedly before he lifted his comm. “Hunter, we found an alternative way out, but you will need to retrieve our gear.”

--

“Found it.” Wrecker said as he led the way through the tunnel.

“All right, Tech. We’ve got the gear and the ipsium.” You said into your comm as you picked up Omega’s stuff.

“Good. Next, you’ll need to carefully scale down the narrow crevasse and descend into the aqueduct below. You will come upon us once the rapids eject you over the waterfall.”

“Cause why would it be a simple case of following a path.” You grumbled to yourself as you climbed through the hole and stared down the crevasse Tech was talking about.

“But you must not compromise the mineral vials, or you will perish.” Tech warned.

It was then that Wrecker saw exactly what Tech was talking about. “You got to be kidding me!”

Hunter followed you in. “Hang tight. We’re on our way.” He told Tech before he signed off.

“I hate this planet.” Wrecker whined before he got ready to join the two of you.

--

Tech sat down next to Omega. “We will be out of this cavern in short order once they arrive with the mineral.”

“Except we still don’t have the Marauder or a way off this planet, and we can’t contact Echo for help.” Omega said miserably as she hugged her knees to her chest.

“We do not need help. We will figure out a solution as we always do.” Tech said simply.

Omega had to take a breath. “Everything is changing, and you don’t even care.”

“I am not sure how I should care about change. It is a fundamental part of life.” Tech said hesitantly, not fully sure if she would grasp what he was trying to say.

He just wasn’t getting it and Omega’s frustration and unhappiness got the better of her. “Echo left. Why doesn’t that bother you?” She snapped.

Tech paused for a moment as he considered his response. He kept his tone as gentle as he could manage. “I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on. That is what soldiers do.”

“We’re more than that. We’re a family. Aren’t we?” Omega asked, her voice quiet but hopeful that she wasn’t misguided in how she felt about all of you, and it was something you all experienced too.

“Well, uh, yes.” Tech stammered, taken aback by the question as he hadn’t given the matter much thought. So much of his life had seen war being a central issue, there hadn’t been much in the way of feeling that true family connection, save for the usual sibling dynamics. They’d seen themselves cast out by many of their fellow brothers and so they only really had each other but the arrival of you and now Omega had seen that dynamic start to change and grow, but it had felt so natural, he hadn’t fully realised how familial things had become. “Yes, of course we are.” He assured her.

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

Tech looked to the space ahead and found himself needing a moment to consider his reply because he didn’t have an immediate answer for her- a rare position for him to be in. He could list of facts and data with no issue but being asked to consider his feelings on a subject, particularly one of this nature, was new territory for him. He released a sigh. “Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair.”

Omega’s eyes widened slightly as she heard Tech use Crosshair’s name. It had been so long since any of you had mentioned him.

“I have to respect their decision.” Tech continued. “Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you.” He told the young girl.

Omega looked at him let his words sink in. What he had said had helped her see a different side to him and the whole situation and she knew talking about such things would have been hard for him, so she appreciated that he’d done it. Before she could say anything, a distant scream interrupted any potential conversation. The two of them watched as you, Hunter and Wrecker came splashing into the pool.

Omega knelt down beside a coughing Wrecker as he lay on his front. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Wrecker could only manage to hold his thumb up.

--

As you climbed ashore, you tossed Omega’s stuff ahead of you and gently put down the ipsium satchel. You risked a glance in Hunter’s direction and immediately regretted it. The way water dripped from his face and his hair- which framed his face perfectly- had you biting your tongue to keep back an appreciative groan. You knew he could feel your eyes on him and saw that he was getting ready to look at you. Don’t look or speak to me until you’ve dried off. To be blunt, I cannot cope with how hot you’re looking right now.

To be honest, that suited him just fine because he was sure that if he focused too much on you right now, he’d be struggling too. The water had certainly helped but he was still trying to cool off after the hours spent next to you as you all had worked to clear the mine. Watching you work without your top layer off earlier had been a trying feat as he’d seen the strength and power you’d exuded. The droplets of sweat that had been dotted around your exposed skin demonstrating your capability and making you all the more enticing.

--

Hunter held onto Omega’s ankles as he boosted her up to place a vial of the ipsium by the fragile point on the cave wall. He carefully put her on her own two feet once she’d done that and the five of you hustled behind a rock.

Realising the others had put their helmets back on, you pulled your hood and mask up as Tech drew his blaster.

“How come he gets to blow it up?” Wrecker grumbled.

“If the shot is not precise it will cause another cave-in.” Tech replied before he fired his shot.

You all laid flat as the explosion sounded and the rocks crashed to the ground, and you were met with the joyous sight of sunlight.

--

As the others moved to leave, you gently touched Tech’s arm. You couldn’t quite get away with the typical sibling dynamic of fighting and then moving on from it a few hours later or at least, not when this situation had felt like a proper fight rather than a minor squabble. You needed to put this matter to rest properly. You didn’t like how on each other’s backs the two of you had been recently, Tech, can we talk for a second?

Tech turned to face you expectantly.

You exhaled deeply. “I know things were kinda tense for a while back there. I certainly didn’t display the best parts of myself and acted poorly. I just wanted to say sorry I was so hostile towards you.”

Tech dipped his head in acceptance. “We all say things and act differently in the heat of the moment, myself included. I’m sorry for my part in things too.”

You pulled your mask down and smiled warmly at him before you both followed the others out of the cave.

--

You shielded your eyes from the sunlight and looked across the horizon to see what you assumed was the spaceport Tech had referred to earlier and his words confirmed that.

“That is the spaceport but there does not appear to be much activity.” Tech revealed.

“Well, there better be some chow there, because I’m sick of rations.” Wrecker said.

Hunter had taken his helmet off again. “Let’s check it out.” He said as he glanced at Omega.

Omega nodded and led the way down.

“Permission to talk and look at you again?” Hunter said humorously as the others stepped past him.

You faced him and grinned. “Ah yes, much better. Permission granted, Sergeant.” You kissed his cheek but before you could walk away, Hunter took a hold of your waist and cradled the side of your jaw as he brought his lips to yours. You placed your hand on the centre of his chest and sighed happily into the kiss.

He couldn’t help it; he acted without really thinking it through. It had been a trying and tiring day and he needed it. It was a brief, sweet moment since you both knew it wasn’t the time nor place for anything more, but it was exactly what was needed.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You murmured as you pulled away and held his gaze. Warmth flooded your veins and your body started to tremble at the adoration is his eyes.

“Like what?” Hunter breathed, although he was sure he already knew given the way his body was reacting and what he was experiencing was reflected in your own eyes.

Before you could form a reply, you were interrupted.

“Hey! You two coming or what?” Wrecker hollered.

You and Hunter laughed quietly before the two of you set off after the others.

--

It was nightfall by the time you reached the port, but it was a disheartening sight. Everything looked old and decrepit. It was desolate. You weren’t going to find help here.

Wrecker let out a dejected groan as he came upon an empty pot.

“Where is everyone?” Omega asked.

“It’s abandoned.” Hunter said heavily. “For a while, by the look of it.”

“We came all this way for nothing!” Wrecker said, his spirit defeated.

“Not nothing.” Tech countered. “I can send out a long-range transmission with that array.” He indicated to the satellite ahead.

--

“No can do, I’m all tied up at the moment. You’ll have to figure it out yourselves.” The holographic image of Cid said.

The sheer lack of concern and casual way she dismissed your predicament shouldn’t have surprised you, but you still found yourself getting aggravated. “Are you fu- are you serious?” You caught yourself as Omega had half-turned to face you.

“Cid, you sent us on this mission.” Hunter argued.

“Well, I didn’t tell you to get your ship stolen, did I?” She retorted.

You scoffed and had to withhold the flurry of insults that threatened to leave your mouth.

“Cid, we need your help.” Omega implored.

“Just like we helped you regain control of your parlour from Roland Durand, and when we cleared your sizable debt with Millegi-”

“I didn’t ask for a recap, Goggles.” Cid said crossly. She looked at Omega once more and the pleading look behind the girl’s eyes got her to reluctantly back down. She groaned. “All right. Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”

“We don’t have enough rations to last a few-” Any protest from Hunter died as Cid immediately signed off.

“What do we do now?” Wrecker asked him as he munched on his ration bar.

Hunter just stared at the piece of food in Wrecker’s hand.

“We’ll figure it out, like we always do.” Omega said optimistically as she shared a nod of understanding with Tech.

The rumble of thunder got Hunter’s attention. He stared at the storm in the distance and looked around him as his squad fell in line behind him. He felt your hand intertwine with his.

We’ll get out of this.

“Never knew you were such an optimist.” He whispered.

I can find it when I need to. You said as you gave his hand a comforting squeeze. You knew you guys would figure something out, you were nothing if not resourceful.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @starwarsnerd111

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch s2 #hunter x reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #angst

[chloeangelic]

😭Why am I crying in the club rn?😭

Listed by author in alphabetical order cause I'm an organized bitch, here are the fics that made me Sit And Think™️ (or cry) in 2023, or

✨ my top 5 gut wrenching authors selection ✨

featuring @atinylittlepain @cherubispunk @macfrog @netherfeildren and @5oh5 🤍🤍🤍

Everyone knows I love angst, I love terrible gut wrenching pain and suffering and then I love it when my tears are drying on my cheeks and they fuck nasty, hell yeah 😎

So if you're like me, here are some recommendations!!

💙 @atinylittlepain

Deliver Me From Nowhere

Read the whole thing in one night and cried repeatedly during. I had it looming in the back of my mind for weeks but didn't feel like I was in the right headspace until I suddenly was, and it hit differently. I love Dolores, I love Joel, I love how he sees her, their dynamic, the exploration of her emotions and headspace, her body language. Fantastic. Want to cry just thinking about it so I'm gonna STOP.

June

Sat and stared at the wall for a long time after this one, then worked up the courage to post TMWH which I seriously don't think I would've had the guts to post had it not been for June. I love how it handles a sensitive, painful, and very real subject, I love that it doesn't paint Joel as a fixer or savior but rather a realistic, kind partner. Again, his understanding of her and how he makes space for her is something I appreciate so much in DMFN and June.

💗 @cherubispunk

Cherub

This one is an excruciating Sit And Think - I didn't cry but I sat there paralyzed for 48 hrs with a thousand yard stare, just thinking intensely about it, after my second read through. Two chapters and I'm already messed tf up over it!! I read them in the middle of the night and then during the day and I have never been this messed up over something labeled PWP before. The passion, the ominous vibes, Cherub being so soft and Joel having this strange dark vibe... I literally just thought about it constantly for two days and I still can't fully put my finger on why. It just slithered into my brain and I still think about it often and go back to read bits and pieces like a little treat.

💚 @macfrog

All Three Dogs

Max posted this on my most depressed day of 2023 so like fuck you ??? I'm sorry like this is phenomenally written and stunning but like what the fuck is wrong with u i'm not even giving u any more compliments on this one bruv sorry you made me like a DBF series and that's a mortal sin so YOU'RE DONE !!! Fucking dead mackerel eyes speak into the mic bitch chicago sunroof 1 after magna carta i am not crazy squat cobbler jesus christ marie lookin ass

Sweet Child O' Mine - particularly pt ii

This one is so cute and yet it hurts so much. It's so real, the MC is so... I don't even know what to say, she's so on her own and she seems so kind and selfless and it just hurts to think about her cause you can feel her love for her child and for Joel and ugh. She tries so hard to be the best person she can be for everyone and it's one of those situations where nobody is doing anything wrong and yet everyone either is already hurt or gonna get hurt, and I think it's that oscillation between love and hurt that really gets me. I also read this in the middle of the night and all I had to say in my RB was like "thanks for making me cry asshole" (I'm known for my profound commentary).

💜 @netherfeildren

Fear of God - particularly the epilogue

Fear of God is my all-time fav Joel series, the best Joel characterization I've come across and it generally set the tone for my taste in fic. It was the second series I started reading on here when I came back to Tumblr, and it's the first piece of writing that has ever truly moved me. His character arc is absolutely INSANE !! I made the mistake of reading the epilogue while listening to Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish, and for months I couldn't listen to it without crying. The day before my graduation, I kept listening to it on repeat in some strange form of self-torture and I had to explain to my bf why I was sobbing. Try to explain all of FoG in a coherent way through tears, I dare u ! I can't say much without spoiling but basically when I think back on getting into fanfic, FoG is what marks the beginning for me and I will never ever forget this piece of writing ever in my life. (Shoutout to when I got caught getting a nut off to one of the FoG extras - I can't really talk about the series without mentioning that)

The Cassandra Complex - particularly ch I, ch IV, and ch VIII

I didn't give much of a fuck about Din before TCC cause i saw him as like a taller hotter R2D2 and now here I am... Eating my words like a ration pack. I have to do a big girthy throbbing TCC reblog cause I have a lot to say about my fav series in the world but basically I can't read ch 4 without crying and even though this is a Star Wars fic and it makes no sense for me to relate to it the most out of anything on Vic's ML, sith girly is the most relatable MC thanks to her constantly feeling haunted by her past, feeling like she's hiding, feeling unworthy, torpedoing herself, and seeing so much beauty in others but struggling to see it in herself. I'll save the rest of my thoughts for the big RB but basically I've even cried at the fucking SMUT in this series like I'm on another planet when I read it (haha get it?? cause Star Wars??)

🧡 @5oh5

From Eden

Staring At The Wall Saturdays again - I hate how much I see my younger self in little sunflower girlie, I hate that I recognize how trapped she feels in her marriage. It's such an accurate portrayal of feeling chained to a man who doesn't deserve you, and of how guilty you feel for not even acting on feelings for someone else yet but just recognizing within yourself that you deserve better, like that pain of accepting that you're not treated right and that visceral feeling of unfairness that comes with being in the wrong relationship. The guilt you feel for even just thinking it, you know? And having to recognize how you've been treated. Ugh. Also this Joel is... His mannerisms are... I.... I'll be right back-

And now, for the most important award ever. The winner of

🏆Biggest Chloe Tear Jerker 2023🏆 is...

🎉 @netherfeildren 🎉 and this is her 24/7

#chloe recs

[to-thelakes]

built to fall (3)

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

series summary; after having a rough month, the feelings that you had been harbouring for your co-worker finally come to the surface

series warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (later on), mutual pining, discussions of mental health, reader gets drunk, vomiting, suggestive themes, sexual tension, cases that the bau work are also mentioned so the usual warnings for the show apply

warnings for this part; slight miscommunication trope, tooth-rotting fluff, luke is a consent king, kisses <3

notes; luke is my consent king, love that man till the ends of the earth, also, just realised i didn't say but none of this fic has been beta-read, just proof-read (once) by me so i'm sorry if it's a complete fucking mess

tags; @smurfenijsje12 @xoxomoonlightbabe

ao3 / masterlist

previous chapter

Back-to-back cases swept up the next few weeks of your life and you and Luke hadn’t really had time to talk about what had happened. You were avoiding it and you were frankly embarrassed. You didn’t want to think about it and so if he ever tried to bring it up, you’d just change the topic. It was easier that way and you frankly didn’t think he needed to explain himself.

The two of you worked amicably. You tried your best to act like nothing had happened but that was a little harder than you had initially expected. Luke kept trying to get you to talk about it but you had been purposefully avoiding it. You were on cases and you didn’t want to possibly impair your judgment by becoming too emotional about Luke.

But the case you had been assigned to currently hit a little too close to home. So, frankly, you were already emotional. A little girl had lost her parents due to the unsub and you were finding it hard to keep it together. You were still a little fragile over your own parents and everyone could tell that you were off. Emily had tried to talk to you but you had reassured her that you were fine.

Luke could tell that something was wrong but whenever he tried to approach you, you shut him down before he could ask if you were okay. It was obvious to everyone that something had happened between you and Luke and it was beginning to affect the both of you. None of them really knew what was going on and Matt had tried to ask Luke but he brushed it off, acting as if it didn’t matter but it clearly did.

However, the longer this case went on the worse you were beginning to feel and the more you avoided Luke. You barely even looked in Luke’s direction anymore. The thought of making eye contact with him terrified you because you knew that if he spoke to you, you would break down into his arms. But you couldn’t do that to him, not again. 

The text that you hadn’t replied to weeks ago had reassured you that he didn’t mind looking after you that night but it didn’t mean you wanted him to see it again. Especially not after you had continued to spill your guts over the phone. Now that some time had passed since the conversation over the phone, you knew that he probably wasn’t rejecting you.

But you didn’t know how to approach him anymore. So, you just avoided him. But as the third evening of the case rolled around, Emily decided that enough was enough and grabbed you to take you to one side. You hadn’t expected to be ambushed and when she asked you what was wrong, you floundered.

“Did something happen with Alvez? If something bad happened, you need to tell me and I will sort it out,” She said sternly. You stared at the floor, caught off-guard and completely floundering. Emily could see the way that you were fighting internally with yourself. She let out a sigh before she stepped towards you, “I need to know if something happened.”

“Nothing bad happened,” You said after a moment.

“You don’t have to lie. Nobody has to know,” She said softly. You shook your head, lifting your head up to look at Emily. You weren’t sure exactly what she thought had gone on but you couldn’t let her think badly of Luke. This was all on you. You were emotional, you were avoiding him. It was all your fault.

“I mean it. I just, you remember when Luke took me home?” You asked, Emily nodded, “Well, I was really drunk and I spilt my guts out and sobbed. It was ugly and I made some comments that were far from professional. I just can’t get him off my mind and then I spoke to him on the phone and… and I told him that I’ve been thinking about him a lot. And I just don’t know how to talk to him now because… I like him, a lot more than I should and I don’t know what to do about it and I can’t just pretend and talk to him like normal. And I’m fucking 30 and acting like a teenager. Like, this is ridiculous.” Emily nodded along to your words, listening to you and the tension in her shoulders seemed to drop.

“Okay,” Emily began but she seemed to pause, not entirely sure where to go. She was your friend but she was also your Unit Chief and she couldn’t have conflict in the unit. It would cause too many issues and so, she glanced over at Luke, “Let me speak to him. Why don’t you go back to the hotel? Get some sleep. You need it and it’s getting late.” You nodded. Part of you wanted to stay and work but you couldn’t. Emily wouldn’t let you and with the emotional toll the case was taking on you, you could barely think straight and so, you wiped your cheeks and nodded.

“Thanks, Em,” You mumbled. She nodded and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly.

“Get some rest.” The two of you then separated and you slipped away out the back door of the police station. It was a short drive to the hotel and you managed to hitch a ride with one of the officers that was heading out that way. You thanked them and once you were back in your hotel room, you curled up on the bed.

Then the tears started and you couldn’t stop them. You were sobbing violently as you wrapped your arms around a pillow. The past few cases had been hard and you were so tired. Everything was just getting pent up and you couldn’t escape the thoughts of Luke. It was driving you mad and you just wanted everything to go back to how it was before you had spilt your guts out to him.

The tears and snot didn’t seem to let up and you had to trudge to the bathroom after a while to try and clean your face up. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you cried harder. Your eyes were red, tears blurring your vision. It was too much. This case was too much and you just wanted Luke to hug you but you were terrified of that. What if it went too far? What if it just made it all worse and you couldn’t get over him like you knew that you had to.

After a moment, you heard a knock on your hotel door. You assumed it was Emily so didn’t even think before you opened the door. Instead, you were faced with Luke. There was a frown on his face when he took in your disheveled appearance and seeing him just made you cry harder. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Woah, woah, hey,” He said softly, stepping into your room. He closed the door behind him as you looked down at the floor, “Emily said that something was wrong. What is it?” He asked softly as he stepped towards you. Your shoulders shook and tears continued to drip down your face. You didn’t know how to tell him what was going on. It was too hard, “Talk to me, what’s going on?” He asked as he closed the space between the two of you. You wiped the snot from your nose as you stared down at the carpet. Luke’s face was pinched together as he watched you. Part of him wondered if this was his fault but he didn’t want to assume.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You choked out, trying desperately to control your sobs but every time you remembered he was there, it just got worse. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not leaving. You’re upset, I’m not walking away,” He insisted. That just made it harder and you had to hold yourself as you cried harder. You weren’t even sure how you still had tears left to cry but you did, “Talk to me, please, carina,” He begged as his hands moved to rest on your shoulders. You shook your head.

“I don’t know how to talk to you, that’s the problem,” You practically wailed as you covered your face with your hands. His face fell and he pulled you into a hug, “I keep getting drunk and saying stupid things and you make me feel so safe but I can’t just keep crying to you. You’re my friend but I just- it’s not fair on you.” You continued to blubber as you tried to control your breathing. Luke sighed. He knew what this was about now and so, he cupped the back of your head, pulling you against him. His other arm wrapped around you.

“I told you that it’s okay. I care about you, okay?” He said soothingly. That made you want to roll your eyes but it honestly just made you cry harder.

“I can’t keep saying those things to you. You, you clearly feel differently,” You stammered out, tears still streaming down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut. He let out a heavy sigh at your words, putting together what else was bothering you.

“Carina, you were drunk,” He stated, “I didn’t know how much you meant it and I didn’t want to assume. I have more respect for you than to take advantage of you like that” He explained. Your breathing had evened out a little now as he held you against him. He sighed against your hair before he grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks between his hands, “Look at me,” He insisted. You did, although it was very reluctantly.

“I was sober enough to know what I was saying,” You mumbled to him. He nodded and forced your face to tilt up so he could look into your eyes properly.

“But you weren’t sober,” He reminded you, “I can’t ever stop thinking about you and I wasn’t going to take advantage of you in a moment like that. Not over the phone, not in person, not ever. Do you understand me?” You forced yourself to meet his unrelenting gaze before swallowing and nodding. He nudged your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” You muttered. He nodded and then he moved one hand behind your head, pulling you into a hug again, “I’m not drunk now,” You added after a moment. Luke chuckled as you snaked your arms around his waist, snuggling into his warmth.

“No, you’re not, but you’re clearly upset and if I’m gonna do this, I’ll do it properly,” He said. You let out a heavy sigh and he chuckled softly at your dramatic reaction, “But, I feel the same way. I can’t… stop thinking about you. Do you know how distracting that is?” The soft chuckle that accompanied your words made your shoulders relax against him, “Couldn’t look at you without thinking about how gorgeous you are.” You began to grin. It was ridiculous how much you adored this man and he was telling you everything you needed to hear.

“Can you stay with me, then?” You muttered. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you ‘okay’ softly before his hands trailed down from your back to your thighs. He gently lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips. The new position meant you could bury your face in his neck as he carried you both over to the bed.

All he wanted was to make sure you got some sleep and you knew that you were cared for. He hated to admit it but he had fallen for you completely.

-

By the time the case was over, it was getting late but you all wanted to get home. So as midnight drew in, you had boarded the jet. And by the time you landed back at home, it was nearing 3am. You were honestly exhausted. Though, you and Luke had spent most of the flight home talking while everyone else slept so you really only had yourself to blame. 

You hadn’t intended to spend the whole flight talking with him but the case was done and the air was cleared. So, you wanted to speak to him. You wanted to stay close to him. He had already been sleeping in your bed at the hotel as the case dragged on. And as you flew back, the thought that you would be sleeping alone lingered in the back of your mind.

So, you did your best to just enjoy his presence. 

Once the team returned back to the office, Emily told everyone to go home and just finish the reports on Monday. That was a relief to everyone’s ears and with a few tired goodbyes, everyone began to filter out until it was just Emily, you and Luke. Emily was in her office and you could see her through the blinds. She was always staying late at the moment and you could see her writing up something at her desk. It made you frown but you didn’t have a chance to think about it too much before Luke had spoken.

“You heading home?” He asked as he walked over to you. You nodded, rubbing your eyes to try and keep the sleepiness at bay, “Need me to drive you?” You thought for a moment before you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine,” You said softly. He nodded and adjusted his to-go bag over his shoulder.  Luke’s presence made it so much easier to sleep and part of you wanted to ask him to come and stay over but you didn’t know how to. You hadn’t even kissed yet. You didn’t know what to do and it seemed he felt the same way.

The silence dragged out between the two of you before you said, “I just hope I can sleep.” Luke’s face contorted and you looked at him, cocking your head to the side.

“Why don’t you stay over with me? Then you can meet Roxy in the morning ‘cause I gotta pick her up from the dog-sitter,” He suggested. You didn’t even need to consider it. The thought of being able to stay with Luke for another day made you feel better. It was so much easier to fall asleep when you were next to him. Also, it meant that you might be able to work out what you were without the pressure of the case - or the team.

“Yeah, okay,” You said softly. Luke began to smile and he glanced over at Emily. She had been watching the two of you but when Luke looked up, she was quick to avert her gaze. You grabbed your to-go bag from your desk and pulled it over your shoulder, “Do you think she noticed?” You asked as you glanced back at Emily.

“Probably,” Luke shrugged. You rolled your eyes and then he took a hold of your hand, pulling you towards the elevator. His hand was so warm and you honestly felt like you could have fallen asleep against him in the elevator.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you debated what to do about the cars before you agreed that you would drop your car - and to-go bag - off at your apartment. Then you could grab a change of clothes and then Luke would drive the both of you the rest of the way to his house. 

By the time that you had arrived at Luke’s house, 3am had ticked into 4am and you were both exhausted. In your sleep-deprived state, you didn’t really give Luke’s house much of a look. You were more interested in getting in bed and curling up against his side. 

Neither of you really thought about much as he dragged you to the ensuite so that you could both brush your teeth. You then changed into pajamas which consisted of stripping and putting on pajama pants on and a comfy bra. Luke found it hard not to stare at you, admiring you as you trudged back into the bedroom.

His bed looked incredibly comfy. And he also looked incredibly domestic. He had stripped his shirt off and jeans off, leaving him in just his boxers as he got under the covers. You found yourself admiring his ass as he shuffled under the covers and when he noticed, he sent you a look, cocking his eyebrow.

“You have a nice ass,” You shrugged before he grabbed your hips and dragged you into bed with him. A giggly shriek escaped your lips as he pulled you against him. With a little bit of shuffling, you were curled up on his chest.

The warmth that radiated off his skin made you sleepy which made it easy to fall asleep. So, within a few minutes, you were dragged into the blissfulness of it. It took a little longer but with you against him, Luke also managed to fall asleep.

-

The blare of an alarm woke both you and Luke up and you let out a soft groan, leaning over and trying to switch your alarm off. Before you realized that it wasn’t yours. It was Luke’s. He muttered an apology as he switched it off before dropping back into bed. 

Your eyes blinked open for a moment, taking him in in the morning light. He looked so pretty and you couldn’t help the lazy smile that spread across your face before your eyes closed again. Part of you couldn’t believe that you were sleeping in his bed, in his house. It was ridiculous especially considering that you hadn’t even kissed yet.

“If I didn’t have morning breath, I’d kiss you,” You mumbled under your breath as you shuffled back towards the man beside you. You heard Luke let out a sleepy laugh before he rolled towards you. The two of you had slipped away from each other in your sleep and he frankly, was not happy with that. So, he grabbed you and tugged you into him. Your head slotted underneath his chin while his arm wrapped around your back.

“Mhm, that’s better,” He hummed out. You couldn’t help but chuckle against his chest. Your breath fanned across his skin and he nuzzled his head into your hair. Then you pressed a soft kiss to the column of his neck where you were cuddled up. 

Despite your best intentions, you were slipping back into sleep again. The feeling of Luke’s fingers running patterns across your back lulled you back into it and it wasn’t until an hour or two later that you woke up again.

But rather than being cuddled up to Luke, he was sitting up in bed, reading a book. You rolled over to take a look at him, still sleepy but more awake than you had been when his alarm had rudely awakened the both of you.

“Morning,” You mumbled softly. The two of you had fallen into an easy routine the last few days of the case. The feelings that bubbled to the surface were there but neither of you had actually done anything about them. But you were going to change that this morning. You were determined to finally get that kiss you had been craving.

“Hi,” He said softly, putting his bookmark in so he could put all his focus on you, “How you feeling?” He asked. You snuggled up to the pillow, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. It was hard to hide it which made him chuckle.

“It was a pretty good sleep,” You muttered. He moved to lie down, turning over onto his side to face you. He reached out to cup your jaw and you melted into him. It was nice. The routine that the two of you had fallen into was easy. It was like you were meant to be together and it soothed something in your soul that you didn’t know needed healing.

“Want some breakfast before I pick up Roxy?” He asked. You nodded against his hand, forcing your eyes back open to look up at him. He grinned and slid out from under the covers.

“It better be good. I’ve heard some… things about your cooking,” You added, teasing him with a sleepy grin. Luke looked back at you, tutting before he headed into the bathroom. You whined softly at the loss of him before deciding you needed to get up too. Realistically, you wanted to stay in Luke’s bed. His mattress was so soft and you felt like you were lying on a cloud. But you wanted to be around him as much as you could.

So, the two of you brushed your teeth together before you headed downstairs. This time you took the time to look through his house. His living room looked so comfortable. The couch looked like something you could sink into and never want to get out of. He had a big TV and a collection of different video games. They looked mainly like RPGs and there was a VR headset abandoned on the coffee table. 

You schmoozed a little longer, clocking the blanket on the back of the sofa that looked very soft and comfortable before you turned around and wandered into the kitchen where he was already cooking up a storm.

You could get used to this. He looked so domestic. He had put some pajama pants on before he left the bedroom but you still had a beautiful look at his bare chest and built shoulders. He was built like a Greek God and you loved it. 

As he was cooking on the stove, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He smiled, glancing back at you before he returned back to the pan. You stayed there for a moment before Luke needed to move. 

So, you reluctantly stepped back and walked over to the fridge. He had mentioned something about loving OJ with his breakfast and when you spotted it in the fridge, you scooped it up before searching the cupboards for his glasses. Luke watched in mild amusement as he continued to cook, not bothering to end your suffering as you searched.

It took a moment before you found two glasses and then you poured a healthy dose of OJ out before you put it back in the fridge. You grabbed your glass and took a sip. It tasted so good and the sugar gave your system a kick that you didn’t even realize that it needed.

Once you were satisfied, you moved to sit up on the counter. Luke placed the lid over the frying pan before he turned around to you. The two glasses of OJ were placed beside you and so he picked up his as an excuse to get close to you.

He slotted himself between your thighs, taking the untouched glass of juice. He took a drink before placing it down. You met his gaze and couldn’t help but smile. Between his body between your legs, the warmth of him so close and the domesticity of all of this, you were giddy. You had missed this kind of comfort.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” You said softly. He shrugged and let his hands slide up your thighs  to rest against your waist. He took you in, adoring every feature on your face. The way your eyes shone in the morning light and the relaxed way you smiled up at him.

“I couldn’t say no to this face,” He admitted as one of his hands moved to gently run his fingers across your jaw. You chuckled, shaking your head at his comment. The eye contact was a little too intense so you grabbed your glass and took another sip of the juice, avoiding it for a moment. When you placed the glass down, Luke was still there and admiring you.

“What?” You giggled, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. He shrugged and let his hand rest against your jaw.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. You were a little dumbfounded by the question. In reality, it was obvious that’s what he wanted. He was so close to you, breath fanning across your cheeks and his hands caressing any part of your skin he could reach. You should have expected it and yet you still stammered over your words.

“Please,” You managed to get out. He chuckled and moved his other hand to rest against your cheek. He was cupping your face and he pulled you forward on the counter so you were pressed against him. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours. The first kiss was soft. There was a gentleness to the way he connected your lips and it made you weak at the knees.

Nobody you had ever dated had ever kissed you like this. It felt like you were floating and then he pulled back. His forehead rested against yours as you breathed in each other. Your brain took a moment to catch up before you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

It was passionate this time. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as closely as physicall possible against you as you moved your mouth against his. Your fingers moved to run through his hair, combing through his curls as you gently ran your tongue across his bottom lip. He didn’t waste a second letting your tongue in and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of OJ lingered on both of your lips as you desperately clung to each other.

His head tilted to the side, hands gripping your hips and tugging you closer. There was a longing in the way he kissed you and it made you completely breathless, heart pumping against your ribcage. You could have kissed him forever as your lips met over and over again, barely giving either of you time to breathe.

Your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair and he let out a groan against your mouth. His hands then trailed under the back of your shirt, fingertips running across your spine. You arched into him and he pulled back, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. The whimper that left your lips was completely involuntarily and it made him smirk as he pressed wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers stayed buried in his hair, gripping onto the roots as he searched for the spot on your neck that would make you keen.

“Luke,” You whimpered softly as his teeth nipped at your skin. He grinned against you, happy to have found the spot he was looking for. He then began sucking the skin into his mouth, “Fuck,” Your hands tugged at his hair as you bit your lip. It felt so good. Luke felt so good and you were pretty sure that you would do anything he asked in that moment. The quiet groan he let out as you pulled on his hair just made it all that much more erotic.

But, even though you loved the feeling of his lips against you neck, you wanted his lips on yours again so you were quick to tug his hair, pulling him away from your neck before you connected your lips again. The kiss didn’t last long though. Both of you were completely breathless, panting as he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were closed as you breathed each other in.

A giggle fell from your lips as you finally let your eyes reopen, “Jesus,” You mumbled. Luke’s eyes opened and he looked into your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” He teased. You pecked his lips again before you pulled back a little more.

“Nothing, just, fuck,” You responded. He couldn’t help but grin as he moved his hand to cup your cheek. His thumb ran circles across your cheekbone before he leant up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Fuck, you could get used to that.

“Ready for breakfast?” He asked softly. You nodded, biting your lip to try and stop the smile from completely taking over your face. You were so fucking smitten for him and you loved it but also couldn’t believe it.

<3

next chapter

#luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez fluff #luke alvez fic #luke alvez smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #reader-insert #built to fall

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

2023 Fic Round Up (Part 2: Fic Quotes)

For favorite lines, I tried to choose quotes that may have less visibility—maybe they haven't made it into a tumblr post or the summary, but I love them all the same. To make this easier for myself, I'm limiting this to quotes from my three published works that I'm the most proud of, plus the two WIPs that I've worked on the most recently.

Presented in reverse chronological order, I present fic quotes:

Unnamed Porn Star x Filmmaker AU

I literally wrote both of these as I outlined two days ago, so they have not reached their Final Form. Also, Smut Warning.

Alex is jealous of the wax. An inanimate object. For being spread across another man’s body. He’s pretty sure he’s completely lost his mind.

Moments later, Henry comes all over Basil’s hand as he uses it to stroke Henry, coating the deep blue wax that’s slowly hardening on his dick. A completely fucking mess. Alex wants to get his mouth on it.

Honey, You're Familiar (From My Mirror Years Ago) aka the Dads Fic

I've shared a lot of my favorites, but I don't know if I've shared this—pretty prose has never been a strength of mine, so I'm pretty proud of this:

June glances up at Henry, studying him for a moment. He wonders what she sees, if she can tell that he’s a crystal vase filled with a bouquet of emotions—absolutely transparent and if nudged too hard, the carefully crafted container might just crack apart, contents spilling out, shattering all remnants of what might have once been construed as beautiful.  An unavoidable mess. The hyacinths, taking up most of the space, for regret and remorse. Tulips, a bit hopeful, for forgiveness. Purple lilac, stubbornly wedged in the mix from the first moment Alex flashed his smile at Henry, for love at first sight. He thinks maybe June does catch a glimpse of the blossoms, because the next thing he knows, her eyes face softens a bit, and she’s turning back to face her cousins with her hand pressed against Henry’s back. It’s not the touch of the Claremont-Díaz sibling he craves, but it still settles him somehow, even before she speaks.

(Dil)Do It Yourself 

Chapter 1

“Pez, like the candy?” Alex blurts out. He doesn’t have much of a filter on a good day, but hot people make his porous coffee filter turn into a goddamn colander.

Also Chapter 1

"If I find that you have somehow managed to muck it up, how should I plan to contact you?” Alex grins back at Henry. He has no fucking clue why this British elf who speaks like a Victorian orphan and looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot has him thinking about getting a second apartment key made, but here he is. Mentally googling routes to his nearest hardware store. “Well, usually, when it’s for business I just give out my fax,” he drawls, unable to contain his smile as he gets to the second half of his sentence. “But since I’m fairly interested in mixing this with pleasure, I guess I can share my cell number.”

Soft stuff before the less soft stuff in Chapter 3

What he’s absolutely not prepared for is the look on Henry’s face when he spots Alex entering the shop—like Alex just saved babies from a burning building or cured cancer or something. It’s way too fucking much when Henry doesn’t even know about Alex’s coffee addiction or the way he incessantly taps his foot when he’s focused or how Alex accidentally interrupts people when he starts getting really passionate in a debate. Maybe Alex can accept that Henry’s into his jokes or his smile or his dick. But basically, Henry hasn’t learned about all the other stuff that comes with spending an extended period of time around Alex. He’s not getting his hopes up. Except when Henry smiles, and softly greets him with “I missed you,” Alex absolutely gets his hopes up.

Claremont 2008 

Both of these are from the final chapter of the fic:

Henry’s sitting at his desk, a heavily annotated Norton’s Anthology of Poetry propped open to his left, a notebook full of beautiful, neat cursive laid open to his right. The soft glow of his lamp warms the small space, coupled with the changing light from the window as the early sunset fills the room with an orangey light that makes Henry appear golden, like he’s been blessed by Apollo, or Helios, or some other sun god.

Finally arriving at their door, Henry unlocks it for the first time, the movers having finished up while the two of them went over to pick up a nametag for their new roommate. After taking a few steps down the hall, they enter into a cozy living room already filled with both their book collections and their family photos all jumbled together. The Lightning Thief sits next to Pride and Prejudice like they’re two puzzle pieces aligning, a photo of Henry and Arthur on a sailboat hangs next to one of Alex sitting on his abuela’s lap: two homes side by side. 

Freaky Friday (I woke up in my enemy's body) 

Alex waxing poetic about Shaan's ass

“You can, er , go,” Alex directs him, though it comes out like more of a question. Apparently it was effective enough, though, because the guy exits, and the phrase “hate to see you go, love to watch you leave” pops into his mind when he gets a view of his ass strutting out of the room in that suit.

The Great Dick Soliloquy

Eventually, and to Alex’s great shame, he gives in. He just has to know, okay? It’ll just be a brief glimpse, he assures himself. Alex is not kidding when he says that he took one glance at Henry’s dick and it changed his life. He really did intend on it being a brief glimpse.

Thank you to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @firenati0n @anincompletelist for the tags!

Sorry if I missed one of y'all doing this, tagging @littlemisskittentoes @ssmtskw @affectionatelyrs @read-and-write- @matherines @rockyroadkylers!

To see all my 2023 fics in Part 1, click here.

#rwrb fanfic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb #favorite lines #happinessofthepursuit writes

[snickerdoodlles]

say hello to my current wip, making assumptions, aka the fic about chay's truly impressive collection of monsterfucker sex toys. i'm banging my head against my desk as i work on one of the emotional scenes, so here's a ~1k preview of the first chapter because i like validation 😂

The thing about fucking up a lot is that you get really good at identifying the little voice in your head yelling hey moron amongst all the alarm bells. It’s just that, if you’re Kim, the little voice can scream as loud as it likes, but it won’t change the fact that the stupid decision is so often the only decision available.

I, Kim thinks as he picks the lock on Chay’s door, am very bad at lying to myself.

It’s just, Kim is nosy. He doesn’t know how not to be, not with a childhood of secrets that kill and a father who lies more than he cares. So, when Kim had snooped through the family’s finance accounts and happened upon Chay’s bank statements, which showed no activity beyond Papa adding an allowance for months and then abruptly incurred multiple pages of mysterious payments totalling to several thousand baht in less than two weeks, which transactions could only be less obvious if they were plastered in neon DRUGS HERE! signs, well. What was Kim supposed to do?

…Not break into Chay’s room and scour the place for secret drug stashes is the correct answer, but Kim is so far past that now. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he finds the stashes of drugs--probably throw them out, except then he’d have to tell Chay, because people rearranging your rooms and throwing out your stuff behind your back is the worst, and he won’t do that to Chay. But he’s also been trying to respect Chay’s fuck off boundary line, no matter how much it hurts, so Chay’s going to hate him twice as much for this, fuck, he’s really thrown himself into a right pickle this time--

He should turn back now. Before he makes this worse.

Then Kim thinks of Chay collapsed in his own pile of vomit, or passed out with blood dripping from his nose, or pale with a needle still sticking out of his arm, because Kim knows the shit dealers cut their products with, because Papa had wanted him to take over the gritty side of the business, and then Kim’s inside Chay’s rooms without a second’s hesitation.

Chay’s room is a mess. Not the type of mess Kim had liked to drop in on, back when he’d surprise Chay at home and get treated to Chay frantically tidying the place while making half a dozen excuses for why Kim couldn’t come over, despite knowing Kim was watching him clean through the front window, and then finally invite Kim in and pout at him until he did something nice to make up for his bullying. This mess isn’t small piles of debris and laundry and dirty dishes--it’s several unpacked boxes growing dust in a corner, a small hamper of clean clothes infront of an empty closet, a collection of dirty glasses atop a stack of textbooks before the nightstand. If Kim hadn’t known this is Chay’s room, hadn’t secretly triple checked the security of this wing and Chay’s position to it obsessively when Chay had first moved in, he might’ve thought this the room for one of Papa’s infrequent guests. It’s…unsettling, to see a space Chay spends so much time in be so empty of his presence.

…He’s wasting time.

The rooms in this wing are all outfitted with the same basic setup: bed in the middle, oversized nightstand between it and the corner, lamp and chair in another, entrance to a full bath and toilet in the last. Usually, long term guests customize their rooms into anything besides a soulless box, but Chay hasn’t even tacked up so much as a postcard on the wall. The only thing unique is the large wooden chest with a well-loved blanket tossed over it, so that’s where Kim starts. It’s too obvious as a hiding place, and Kim almost wants to scold Chay or give him lessons on how to hide shit he wants to stay hidden, but…it’s the one piece Chay’s chosen in this room. Chay could just grab a backpack and this chest and disappear--anything he wants safe will be in it.

…The chest isn’t even locked, and Kim returns to the urge to go find and grab Chay by his shoulders and shake him until he remembers something about situational awareness, or keeping secrets, or distrusting people, or a lot of other basic caution measures, except Kim’s one of the things Chay’s currently keeping himself safe from, so that definitely won’t do him any favors. Kim settles for closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose.

Then he opens the chest to reveal…tentacles. Literally dozens of plastic tentacles.

What?

Kim stares down at the chest full of…plastic octopus legs? Or, at least, the tips of several of them, in all varieties of colors, from coral pink to a deep, shimmery blue. Kim even grabs one that glistens like oil slick when he moves it in the dim sunlight. They all vary in shape too, some are more sleek with just tiny bumps and ridges in different patterns, some with thick bases and thin tips and others with thin bodies and flared heads, others with strangely realistic suckers that yield under his finger tips, and then even more underneath those that look far too strange to be called proper tentacles. Kim pulls out a deep green one with a cute flower at the base and a body that curls aggressively, another that’s mostly straight but has the look of chewed bubble gum, and yet another that’s shorter than the rest but twice as thick and covered in bulging bumps.

It’s not until Kim finally pulls out a toy covered in flared ridges, scales, and other alarming geometry, but also distinctly phallic, does his brain finally accept that all of these are dildos.

Chay…Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Chay has a chest of sex toys in his room.

Kim’s brain gives up. His face is too hot for him to think, his ears are ringing with what he’s quite sure is literal steam coming directly off his brain. He keeps pulling out more new toys, unable to stop. There’s one that looks like a tongue, with twice as many veins and a bumpy texture that is much too real for the scraps of his sanity. An alarmingly long and bendy tube with a pretty rainbow gradient and a disturbing number of knobs. A dark blue dildo that seems strangely plain until it lights up with half a dozen glittery rings when he accidentally squeezes the base too hard.

Pretty, Kim thinks, then is so startled by the sound of his own thoughts he misses the sound of the door clicking open behind him.

“Kim?”

Kim actually startles, whacking his knee on the chest of sex toys, and comes face-to-face with Chay.

…While sitting in a half-circle of monster dicks.

Chay’s eyes dart from him, to the toys on the floor, to the chest, and blushes all the way to his ears. “Kim?”

#kinnporsche #fic: making assumptions #kimchay #me: i'll write this if i think it'll stay under 10k #first chapter alone: is ~7k #draft: is well over 20k already #me: am not anywhere near done #hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha #who thought this was a good idea #anyways please wish me luck as i work thru this emotional hurdle aaaaaaaa #if i get enough of the beginning done ima start posting at the end of the month #fingers crossedddddd

[sighonaraa]

🛏️💥🍄

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

i think................ i would like to explore some physical whump stuff. i'm planning on dabbling with some daredevil fics, and if you've watched even two seconds of that show, you'll understand what i mean when i say Whump Is Inevitable. i feel like i typically stick with emotional whump, but physical whump is so............. ough. very much my jam.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

INDEED!! i talked about the bare bones of it yesterday, but my new wip the ending where you finally find your way home (wherein a fucker of the universe occurs and 23-year-old jamie is suddenly standing in place of 33-year-old jamie) is something i am INCREDIBLY excited about. here's a small wippet!

“Jamie,” said Roy, because Roy was suddenly at Jamie’s elbow, and he wrenched his head up, determined to snap back, certain that Roy was here to tell him to quit fucking around and read off the goddamn cards. Except— Except this wasn’t a Roy that Jamie recognized. This was a Roy that had grey streaked through his black curls, grown out longer than he’d seen them before; this was a Roy that had deep crow’s feet around his eyes; this was a Roy who looked at Jamie with a softness that made Jamie recoil. And recoil he did, flinching on instinct from the palm that cupped his arm and almost tripping over his feet in the process. Weird, actually-old Roy lifted his hands in surrender. “You’re all right, Jamie,” he said. He sounded the same. “It’s me. It’s Roy.” Jamie opened his mouth. He meant to say something witty, something that would cut through all the bullshit and leave him with a clear way out of this mess, but all that came spilling out of his mouth was, “I shouldn’t be wearing a shirt.” And then he collapsed onto the floor.

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try?

in line with the first question: daredevil! i also am working on a the last of us fic, and i've been dabbling with an outlander fic about Siblings so! definitely all of those! and i'm sure i'll somehow fumble my way into writing a percy jackson fic if the way the brainrot has been going is any indication.

ask me about my 2024 writing goals!

#ask #readwing #thank youu for the ask <3 #ted lasso #fic: the ending where you finally find your way home #daredevil #the last of us #pjo #outlander #sid speaks

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Part Seven

Hello All!

Here is the last part (part seven) of what is the first quarter of Silver In Her Eyes. I've hoped you've enjoyed it so far!

I'm taking a break from Silver as life is getting in the way, I don't know when I will be picking this back up. I do hope it won't be too long.

Please show this some love on Tumblr or Ao3!

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter 7 - writinginthedust - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas [Archive of Our Own]#

For the first time in her life, Feyre wanted Nesta.

Mor would have once been her first choice but there was an ache at the thought of her friends knowing and conferring, conspiring about her life. She’d saved them, but they hadn’t given her the option to save herself.

Elain was in Spring. Not, as Feyre had first been told to build a relationship with Lucien under Rhys’ cautious eye, but to be used as bribery. To get Lucien to convince Tamlin to ally with the Night Court.

Feyre wouldn’t have wanted her anyway. Elain would have been too distraught, too emotional.

Rhys...

Feyre couldn’t think about Rhys.

This wasn’t a case of love. Rhys loved Feyre. This was because Nesta respected Feyre enough to tell her the truth, she who understood that Feyre had a right to her own life, her own choices.

Something newly uncomfortable now lived in Feyre.

Her eldest sister had been torn from her bed, thrown into the Cauldron and then subjected to war after war in a newly formed body. Then, when all was over and Nesta was a shaking mess drinking and fucking her way through Velaris, Feyre had made decisions on her behalf.

They’d worked out, hadn’t they? In the end?

Like a worm in an apple, doubts niggled in Feyre’s mind.

Nesta came when called.

“I’ll do it in here,” Feyre said, as they stood amongst the too white, too bright marble of the bathroom. “There may be blood. I don’t know if there will be blood, there may be lots of-”

Nesta’s fingers pushed between hers as she rambled, Nesta’s cool dry palm against Feyre’s hot slick one and her sister gave her hand a squeeze. Firm but gentle, saying I am here without words.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Nesta said, her voice quiet. She held no rage anymore, just an infinite sadness.

“I need to do this,” Feyre said. “I swore an oath to protect the people of the Night Court. Love takes many forms.”

If she didn’t try to shift into Illyrian form, then her inevitable last breath would start a chain of disaster and death for everyone, including her son if he survived beyond her. If she lived while Nyx died then part of Feyre would be dead anyway. Of all the sacrifices she’d made, this was the one which tore through her.

As though she was in a dream, Feyre stepped into the bathroom, insider her body and strangely outside it too. Her feet were bare and cold against the stone, the fortresses up in her mind lest Rhys discovered what she was doing and tried to stop her.

Feyre sat on the floor on a sheet with Nesta opposite, waiting and watchful. Before she closed her eyes, she saw Nesta’s mouth move as she uttered a prayer.

Then nothing else. Her own breath, Nyx fluttering inside her, as though he was remembering all the words she had spoken to him the previous evening. She held onto the love she had for him, hoping she could wrap him tight in a blanket of it, to protect him from what might happen next.

That will never go my darling. That love will always be for you.

Feyre nudged her body until her bones cracked and her skin stretched, until wings unfurled on her back and her stomach changed shape, shifting and accommodating the small body within. Feyre expected pain but none came, just a sharp discomfort of talons pressing against an organ and then – nothing. No agony, no tangy scent, or trickle of blood.

Had he disappeared from the world like a whisper? Never existing until one second after conception but now in the reverse. Gone like a raindrop in the ocean.

Her hands hovered before her, too scared to touch her own belly to feel flatness.

“Feyre,” said Nesta, her voice light, hopeful. “Look.”

Feyre’s eyes opened and she glanced down. Her belly was the same, round and protruding, the fabric straining over the burgeoning shape. She pushed down and there it was, the press of Nyx’s foot, at first gentle and then more belligerent, kicking against his own mother’s hand.

I am here.

The pinch of continual pain Feyre had felt throughout the pregnancy and believed normal was now absent, leaving behind only comfort.

A sob from her throat turned into a peel of laughter as Nyx’s kicks grew with enthusiasm at the new space he found himself in. Feyre splayed her palms over her stomach, calling out his name over and over before she called out another.

“Rhys,” she exclaimed with joy, “I need to tell Rhys.” But Nesta must have slipped from the room because when Feyre looked up, her sister was gone.

***

Amren had folded in on herself; hunched over, skin pale. There were more streaks of silver in her hair than black and lines were deeply etched on her face. When Rhys arrived, she was sat in a chair facing a window overlooking the brilliant turquoise sea of Summer, a thick blanket wrapped around her legs despite the heat.

Rhys wondered if her hearing had diminished, that she hadn’t heard his name being announced. Even when he drew closer, she didn’t greet him, her eyes remaining transfixed ahead. Only when he stepped into view did she glance up.

“I’m glad Feyre is safe,” she told him, “I will forever live with the guilt that I couldn’t break the pact. I’m glad you’re safe too.”

“Thank you,” he said, setting into the chair placed beside her. “Though it’s not how I wanted things to go.” His words grew clipped, “I’m not pleased that Nes-”

There was a noise from Amren. “It’s done now,” she held up her hand, cutting him off. “Look to the future and be happy.”

Rhys bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood into his mouth. “Yes, well," he gritted out, "I came to see how you are, and ask when you’d be returning to Velaris. We miss you.”

Amren’s laugh was brittle and her chest rattled. “Who’s left to miss me? Don’t you have everyone scattered about?”

Rhys’ turned to look at Amren, irritated that she refused to look back at him, that she stared straight ahead at the landscape beyond. “They will return. The battle may be over but I need to win the war.”

“Well, you will. With your allies and Illyrian soldiers. And the Made weapons of course - if you decide to share them.”

His heart leapt in his chest; he didn’t recall discussing the blades with Amren. “How do you know about those?”

“I still have ears in Night.”

“Cassian then,” Rhys said, curling his lip. “He’s become very loose lipped in recent weeks.”

“No. Not Cassian.”

“Who?”

Amren waved her hand again, discarding his question. She closed her eyes and settled back down into her chair, drawing her blanket closer to her chest. “Doesn’t matter. I may be weak but I’m not without any power.”

Rhys breathed air in through his nose willing his jaw to loosen. Pressing Amren and coming close to losing his temper with her in Summer of all Courts was a sure way to break some allies. It had taken long enough to secure Tamlin and, in the end, he was only swayed by Lucien’s pleas.

Lucien himself had to be cowed by Elain’s doe eyed presence when Rhys carted her before him.

“Come back to the city,” he said, keeping his voice jovial, “bring those astute ears back home.”

Amren shook her head. “My bones hurt and Night is too dark, too cold. Varian ensures I’m well looked after and Summer is providing the restorative effect I need. I crave the light.”

“Plenty of light in the House of Wind.” The sun glinted across the waves in their view. “You’ll find it emptier these days. You could move Varian in.”

Amren turned her head to look at him, slow and cautious, eyes narrowed. “And where have all the occupants gone?”

So, her ears only went so far. That was good to know. Now it was Rhys’ turn to wave his hand. “That doesn’t matter. Say you’ll return.”

Amren took a breath in, her hands curling on the armrest of her chair belying the tension even though she casually rested her head back and closed her eyes. Rhys noted four missing fingers. “No, I don’t want to.”

The hold on his temper was loosening. “You’re a member of the Night Court,” he spat, “a sworn member of the Inner Circle and my second in command, so I command you to come back.”

“You think demands will call me back?” She laughed. “I know why you want me back and its nothing to do with missing me. Feyre will live, as will Nyx - thank the Mother - but the death pact between you and her leaves them vulnerable. Feyre could still be a target for enemies who want to wipe you out.”

"You’re wrong,” Rhys said, knowing Amren saw through his lie. “I’m moving to the final stage of our plan. We will destroy Keir and his allies. He’s secured less Illyrian camps then he thinks and though he has Beron, Eris is now ours.”

Amren raised an eyebrow. “And you think the male who would betray his father wouldn’t betray you?”

“He won’t. He had demands. Demands which can now be met.”

A frown creased over Amren’s face making her look as ancient as she was. An eye opened, a glint of silver glaring at him. “If you mean Nesta, I would advise you exhibit caution in handing her over like some winning prize. No one knows what she can do-”

“What she could do. She’s a candle burnt to the end.” He tucked what Amren had said away. Only Mor knew Eris’ request regarding  Nesta. Between this and Amren knowing about the Made weapons, Rhys would have to look closer at his cousin.

Amren shook her head. “If that is the case, then let her live in peace. She once wanted a cottage outside the city where she could be alone. Allow her to have that life. Allow Cassian to have it with her.”

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? It would lose you Eris, is that what you think? We can convince him to take a different route, one that doesn’t involve trading the future of another.”

Rhys clutched his fist to his chest. “Is that what you think of me? That I would treat my mate’s sister in such a way? It would be dangerous for Nesta to live outside the city. If something were to happen, how could I look Feyre in the eye and tell her harm had befallen her sister?”

Footsteps sounded across the marble floor. Rhys could see Varian approach, either to remove Rhys or take Amren away.

Amren looked past Rhys; her face softening a fraction as she saw who was coming towards her. When she looked back to Rhys, it had hardened again and for a moment she was the Amren of before – young and sharp and dangerous.

“It’s easy of course,” she said with a false sweetness, “clutch her hands, put on your most pathetic expression and tell her there is no danger and never will be. After all, you’re the most brilliant High Lord, the most trustworthy. She’ll believe you in everything.”

Varian breezed past Rhys without acknowledgement, his hands going to two handles on the back of Amren’s chair Rhys hadn’t previously noticed.

Varian said nothing, neither did Amren, as they left the room leaving Rhys alone with the endless bright blue sky.

#nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta and cassian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #I wrote something #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessian fan fic #anti rhysand #sjm critical #neris #nesta x eris #eris vanserra #silver in her eyes