#time to pull myself out of this daydream i can mull over my thoughts again later. now it's time to move and be fucking productive

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #aaron hotchner x gn reader #hotch x gn reader #request

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 3: Lust, Actually

Links to: Chpt. 1, Chpt. 2 Chpt. 4

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Jealous!Din, swearing, sexual arousal, mixed signals

Word Count: ~6300

Summary: Din starts to be more aware of his attraction and maybe feelings for you. Also, he takes you and the child to a lake for a few days of relaxation.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Din’s perspective. Just to clarify my writing in general, when I use Din it means it’s his thoughts, but when I use Mando, it’s your thoughts. Also, I hope you like Din being a bit of an exhibitionist here, because I think, given the chance, he’d enjoy showing off for you.

“Welcome back, Mando!” Din feels his heartbeat skip at your cheerful greeting. You always seem so happy to see him when he returns, giving him that wide smile, your eyes lighting up. You’re holding the child and you come over to him, saying “Somebody missed you while you were gone!”

Din knows you mean the kid, but he’d like to know that you missed him too, even though he knows he shouldn’t be thinking like that. He doesn’t want to admit to himself how much he’s been looking forward to seeing your pretty face again. He pushes his thoughts about you aside as you hand him the little one and he focuses his attention on greeting his foundling instead. “Did you have a good time here in Cloud City, buddy?”

“I’d say he had a great time,” you reply, “He loved playing in the big indoor park with all of the other children.” You and the child have been staying in Cloud City for about a week, while Din tracked down a bounty. It had been a particularly tricky job, but at least it was well paying, which meant he was looking forward to being able to take a break for a few days. He tickles the child under his chin getting him to giggle. Maybe he’ll take you all to Crucival, he remembers it has some pretty grasslands that you’ll both probably enjoy. Should be nice, give everyone a chance for some fresh air.

“I have all our things ready to go, but we just need to stop in at the café a few doors down to collect our dinner and say goodbye.” You tell Din, gesturing to your small pile of bags.

“Say goodbye to who?” He asks.

“Riva, the owner of the café,” you explain, “The green bean here just loves the meat pies from there. We’ve been there every day. I ordered a few to take with us.”

Din nods in response and hands the child back to you so he can collect the bags. He shakes his head at your protests that you can carry something and just gestures for you to go ahead. You’re so cute when you think he needs help. Din follows you to the aforementioned café and sees a handsome man greet you and the child enthusiastically. Apparently, this is Riva. Din feels his jaw clench involuntarily and his stomach feels hot. He tries to ignore it though as you’re turning toward him with a hand extended as you say, “Mando, come meet Riva.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mando.” Riva reaches out his hand in greeting. Din gives it a brief shake but saying nothing in response. It doesn’t seem to bother Riva, as he can’t keep his eyes off you and he turns back to say, “I’ll miss you two around here. You’ve been a real bright spot in my day.”

“Thank you,” you respond with a smile, “It’s been nice getting to know you. Oh, and thank you for the recipe, I know it will keep the little guy happy.” Din wonders if the meat pies are the only reason you’ve been coming to this café every day. He tries not to thinks about how much time you’ve probably spent visiting with Riva. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, you’re leaving now with him, and besides, why should he care who you spend your time with as long as the child is taken care of and safe.

“We should get going,” Din says and he decides to reach forward and place a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course.” You respond, “Wave bye-bye,” you tell the baby and you making waving motions to prompt him. Din moves his hand down to the small of your back and presses lightly in a gesture meant to get you to turn and walk with him. He’s pleased when you follow his movements; he likes that it shows you’re in sync with him.

“Have a safe journey! Maybe I’ll see you again soon?” Riva says hopefully.

“Maybe,” you reply with a small glance back.

“Not if I can help it,” Din says under his breath. You turn your head towards Din and for a moment, he thinks you heard his comment. But you say nothing and just continue on, letting him lead you towards the landing platform where the Razor Crest is parked. He keeps his hand on your lower back as you walk, knowing that it’s a small excuse to touch you without raising any questions.

Maker! He shouldn’t look forward to it as much as he does, but he really enjoys it when he has an excuse to touch you. Maybe you’ll be interested in practicing more self-defense techniques these next few days. Not only will it be a valuable skill for you to have, but also, he knows it means you’ll be in close proximity to him and there’s a good chance he’ll get to feel your body against his again. He’s embarrassed to admit even to himself the number of daydreams he’s had about being free to touch you without an excuse. Many of these daydreams are so innocent, things like running his fingers over your hair, holding your hand while you’re seated next to him, or embracing you when he returns from a hunt. Din sighs as he mulls over these thoughts. I am being pathetic and probably creepy too.

It doesn’t help things that the lines between being your employer and being your friend seem to be blurring every day. He chalks it up to living with you and the casual intimacy that comes with it. Something as simple as seeing you in your pajamas or knowing the exact scent of your soap has allowed him to know more about you than a typical employer might. Then there’s the odd sense of pride from knowing that he provides for you, and not just that he pays your salary, but that he provides you with a home and food. It’s similar to the feeling he had when he protected you from that creep in the marketplace a few weeks ago. Not that he had needed to do much, but the satisfaction he had from showing you how capable he was at keeping you safe was a new emotion that he didn’t quite recognize but was eager to feel again.  

“So, what’s the next stop?” Your question brings Din out of his reverie. You’ve settled into the co-pilot’s chair after securing the child in his own seat.

“Crucival. I have some time to take a break for the next few days, and I figured you’d like one too.” Din tells you of his plan.

“Oh good! I know the kiddo will be happy to get to spend some time with you. Plus, I’d love a few hours to myself.” You sound eager for the opportunity. “Not that I don’t adore you, buddy,” you look over and reassure the child.

“I also thought I could teach you some additional self-defense tactics,” Din mentions casually, “If you’d like.”

“Oh, uh, sure, if you think so,” you say, “But, um, we don’t have to practice shooting moving targets, do we?”

“I was thinking more hand-to-hand fighting. Nothing too strenuous, just some key moves to help you get out of a bad situation.” He explains. Din can tell the idea of shooting a moving target really bothers you and he knows he’ll need to think of a clever way to help you become more comfortable with the idea.

“Ok, yeah, that would be good.” You offer him a small shrug. It’s not the enthusiastic response he was hoping for but at least you didn’t say no.

“There’s also a nice lake there I thought we could visit.” Din tells you thinking of another place that you and the child might enjoy seeing.

“Ooh! Do you think we can go swimming?” Now your tone is full of enthusiasm and you’re smiling at the prospect of a lake visit.

“Sure, if the weather is nice.” He’s pleased you sound so excited. Din’s not sure why he feels this need to make you happy, but each time he does, he knows he wants to do it again. Perhaps it’s just the way you seem to appreciate everything that he does, even trivial actions can bring a smile to your face and a warm ‘thank you’ from your lips. It’s not like other people don’t appreciate his work, but there’s something that feels different when you thank him, like it means so much to you.

“Tell me more about what you two did in Bespin.” Din likes hearing you talk about your time with the child.

“Well, I told you we went to the park; he liked going down the slide and playing in the sandbox there. Plus, he made lots of friends. There was this one little girl, Lisel, that he really liked and he loved holding her hand and walking around with her. They were so cute together.” You chuckle a little at the memory. “They became such good friends that her father invited us to dinner one evening.”

“Her father?” Din asks, wondering if you spent all your time meeting men while you were in Cloud City.

“Yes, he’s a single father, like you. Mostly Lisel was with her nanny at the park too, but one day her father brought her. He’d heard so much about the green boy, as Lisel called him, that he wanted to meet us.”

“How was it?” Din asks politely, although he’d rather not hear about your dinner date.

“It was fun, the little guy had a great time at dinner. He even shared his dessert with Lisel, so you know she was a very special friend.” Your voice teases the little one, as you know his fondness for sweet treats.

“Oh wait, I forgot, I took some holos to show you.” You pull out your holopad from your pocket and show him several of the child with a little girl who looks to be about 4 years old. Din has to admit, the kid does look like he’s having a great time. When you get to a holo with an attractive man and the little girl, he feels his interest wane.

“That’s Lisel’s father, he was friendly; it was nice of him to open his home to us.” You explain, a bit unnecessarily in Din’s opinion.

“Hmm” is all Din can think to say in response to that. Sure, this guy invited over his kid’s new friend because he’s just that nice, it had nothing to do with the beautiful woman caring for him. He’s thankful his expression is hidden from you by his helmet. He knows it’s stupid, because you’ll probably never see the man again, and he himself has no claim on you, but he can’t help a flare of jealousy at the thought of you sharing a meal with another man. It’s compounded by the fact that Din can’t ever share a meal with you without breaking his creed. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to hear any more about Lisel’s father, because you appear to be out of holos and decide to change the subject.

“How was your hunt? I mean, I’m sure you caught him, but how did it go?” You ask him. You’ve never inquired about his bounties in the past and he wonders what made you think to ask him now.

“It was successful, that’s the important part.” He responds.

“Will you tell me about it? I’d like to hear more about what you do.” You sound genuinely curious. He isn’t usually one to share tales of his work. He always saw it as outrageous bragging after hearing stories from other bounty hunters back on Navarro. But there’s something about your expression, an eagerness to know more about him, that makes him feel like talking about it.

“This one was difficult, because the guy was a lot craftier than most quarries.” He explains. “Normally, they just run to some place over-populated thinking they can blend in or they head somewhere remote and try to hide. But this guy managed to pull off a really good identity switch and he discovered a way to fool the bio data for the tracking fob.”

“What did he do? Surgically alter his face or something?” It sounds like something a villain from a bad holoprogram would do.

Din chuckles, “Yes, he’s human but he had some type of skin treatment to make him look like he was Chiss, even had these special lens in his eyes that glowed red. I had to run DNA samples to verify it was him since he looked nothing like the puck.”

“How did you ever find him?” You sound impressed.

“His mother was receiving regular payments from a mining consortium on Bespin. Each month it looked like the money was coming from different accounts but it was always the same amount and it rotated perfectly between the accounts. It was too regular to not be a pattern. Besides the mother had no prior connection to Bespin nor mining, there was no reason for her to be receiving money unless he was sending it to her.”

“It’s like something out of a crime drama, ‘always follow the money’, right?” You’re clearly entertained by his story.

“Yeah, well, that got me to the mine, but then I still had to figure out who he was pretending to be.” Din explains, “I had it narrowed down to a few guys but still had to track them down and then each one ran from me, making me chase them all over the mine, I was constantly trying to avoid dangerous machinery. I guess mining attracts men who have bounties on their heads.”

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Your concern for his well-being is sweet.

“Nah, I’m fine. Maybe a few bruises.” He shrugs, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“You’re sure? Do you need bacta or anything?” You offer.

“I’m good.” Din replies, “But, um, if you felt like cooking dinner, I wouldn’t say no to that. Only if you feel like it. All I’ve had are ration bars the last few days.” He admits this sheepishly to you. Din doesn’t want to take advantage of your kindness but you really are a much better cook than he is and he does enjoy the way you fuss over him about eating healthy.

“Of course,” you say pleasantly and head down to the galley.

When you return, you have a tray with a bowl of soup, one of the meat pies, a salad, some sliced fruit and a cup of tea for him. It’s way more than he needs, but he appreciates your thoughtfulness and worry that he hasn’t eaten enough. He notes that you even made him the tea that he likes but that you don’t seem to care for, which means you must have made it special just for him. That thought alone is enough to make him smile and, after you’ve set down the tray on the console, he finds himself reaching out to take your hand. You seem a bit startled by this but you don’t say anything.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Din tries to make his voice sound as warm as he can through the modulator, “for all that you do for me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mando,” you tell him, your own voice sounding warm and sincere.

He gives your hand a little squeeze, and tells you, “You’re such a good friend.” He watches your face falter a bit at those words and you release his hand.

“I hope you enjoy your dinner.” You smile at him again, but this smile doesn’t reach your eyes. He barely has a chance to register it though because you’re already moving past him, scooping up the kid, and heading back down the ladder swiftly.

Shit, what did I do wrong? Din can’t figure out what could have changed your demeanor. Maybe squeezing her hand was too much? He sighs to himself and hopes he hasn’t upset you in some way. He listens for a moment and he can hear you chatting happily to the child so it can’t be too bad. His stomach growls and remembering his hunger, he turns back to the feast you’ve brought him. He hates to admit it but the meat pie is good even if it did come from stupid handsome Riva.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crucival may be considered a backwater, but it has its own beauty in soft rolling hills and small wooded areas, and even several wild flowers, if Din remembers correctly. After yesterday evening though, he knows he wants to see a real smile on your face again and so he decides to head straight for the lake, knowing it’s the best feature this little break has to offer. Turns out that was the smart move because as soon as he lowers the Crest’s ramp, your entire face lights up with delight at the sparkling water. It’s a sunny day and warm without being too hot, a perfect day to spend at the lake. He chuckles as, just like the kid, you race down the ramp straight for the little sandy beach. Before he’s even off the ship, you two are already wading at the water’s edge. He watches as you help the kid get his robe off, allowing the little guy to splash around in the buff. He feels a wide smile break out on his face at how much fun the kid’s having. There’s a small group of shady trees at the water’s edge and Din settles himself underneath them where he can watch the two of you. He’s surprised though when you suddenly bring the child back to him.

“The water’s so warm, I going to go put on my swim suit.” You tell him excitedly. “The kiddo can be a nudist, but that’s not my style.” You give him a wink and jog back to the ship.

The little guy squirms in Din’s arms and makes small whining sounds indicating that he wants to be back in the water. Din looks down at himself and he feels a little out of place in all of his armor and protective layers.

“Give me a couple minutes, pal,” he tells the child as begins to remove his armor and strip down to his base layers. After a bit, he’s down to just his helmet, trousers, and undershirt, and he’s finally ready to take the kid back to the lake when Din sees you coming back. All his movements come to a grinding halt as he watches you saunter over to him. Your swimsuit shows off your all your curves beautifully and you look so gorgeously sexy that all he can do is stare at you. He watches you dumbly as you reach for the squirming child who is getting increasingly impatient and he sees your mouth moving, but it’s as if there’s a short circuit in his brain and he has no idea what you’re saying.

“Mando?” You must have asked him something.

“Yes” He just agrees blindly hoping that’s the right answer. It seems to be, because you’re giving him that incredibly bright smile of yours and saying, “Alright, let’s go.”

You tug his arm to make him move and head back to the water. He follows after you and the child, but stops to wade in the shallow water at the shore, while you swim out a bit further, holding onto the child. He watches as the two of you float and swim, laughing in delight.

“Well, aren’t you coming in?” You call out to him.

“I’m still in my clothes.” Din doesn’t own a swimsuit, never has.

“So? They can get wet. Or I guess you could take them off.” Your voice has a playfulness he hasn’t heard before. You’re teasing him, and it’s clear you don’t think he’ll ever take off his clothes to come swimming.

Din might spend most of his time with his skin fully covered, but he’s not shy about his body. In fact, your teasing tone makes him want to rise to your challenge, and so he reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it off. When he glances back at you, he can see he has your complete attention and your mouth has fallen open a bit. Good, Din wants you to look, he likes the idea of you watching him undress. He moves to unbutton and unzip his trousers next, before pushing them down and letting them fall to the sand. He heads into the water now only in his black boxer briefs and his helmet. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, at least until the child sends a large splash of water into your face.

“He got you good,” Din chuckles at the sight of your face dripping with water as he swims up to you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out. It appears you’re rather flustered from his impromptu strip tease on the shore and you seem to be trying very hard to keep your eyes on his visor, but he sees you taking little peeks down at his naked chest.

“It’s alright, you can look.” Din tells you cheekily and loves it when you gasp in response. He looks down at your chest too where he’s rewarded with the sight of your cleavage, enhanced by the glistening water running down your skin. Teasing you a bit further, he says, “Besides, I’m certainly enjoying the view myself.”

“Mando!” You’re trying to make it sound like you’re scandalized, but the way your eyes are shining and the fact that you’re still smiling tell him you’re enjoying this as much as he is. Not wanting to push too far though, he turns his attention to the child.

“C’mon pal, let’s practice kicking.” Din holds the little one’s arms as he floats on his tummy and you both watch as he kicks his little legs hard churning up the water. Din moves through the water helping the child gain momentum as he kicks. The child grins up at him in delight and Din’s glad he decided to come swimming.

The three of you have a delightful time in the lake and you stay in the water until your fingers and toes are pruney, only finally coming out because you can tell the child will need to eat soon or you’ll be dealing with a cranky toddler instead of a giggling one.

“Oh, I forgot to grab towels.” You’re saying as you make your way back onto the little beach.

“That’s ok,” Din replies, “You can just use my cape to dry off and the kid and I will air dry.” He’s already stretching out in the sun. You glance down at him, but then suddenly turn away with your hand to your mouth and hurry over to find his cape. Din looks down at himself and realizes that now that his boxer briefs are wet, everything is more on display than before. He chuckles to himself and hopes you weren’t too shocked, but also, he can’t help himself from thinking, I hope she liked what she saw.  

When you return you’re carrying some towels, a blanket and bag that looks to be full of food. Din watches as you demurely keep your head turned and toss him a towel before helping the child dry off more. Then you spread out a blanket and proceed to set up a huge picnic for the three of you. He notices you’re dividing up the food so that it’s on two opposite edges of the blanket.

“I thought maybe if we sat back-to-back it would be OK for us to eat together. I’ll keep the child on my lap and there’s no one else around who could see you, so it should be safe. What do you think?” You ask him.

“Yeah, that will work.” Din’s touched that you’ve thought of a way for the three of you to share a meal together in some fashion. He knows there aren’t many settlements around, so he figures he can push the helmet up and leave it atop his head while he eats. It will be easy enough to drop it back down quickly if necessary.

He waits until you get settled on the blanket with the kid, and then sits down behind you. He leans back against your body, forgetting that your swimsuit has left your back almost entirely bare and now he can feel your warm skin from your hips to your shoulders pressed against his. The sensation is so incredible for him that he feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t remember the last time someone touched this much of his skin. What he told you before was true, he has had lovers, but it’s been a very long time since he’s taken off more than what was absolutely necessary for those encounters. And despite the fact that there’s nothing truly sexual about the way that you’re touching him now, it’s intimate for him. He tries to eat but each time one of you moves all he can focus on is the feeling of your skin brushing his. He knows you’re trying to have a conversation with him, but he keeps losing track of the topic.

“Is everything OK, Mando?” You seem to have noticed how quiet he’s being.

“Yeah, just, uh, enjoying the sound of your voice.” In trying not to saying anything about how much he likes touching you, he lets that admission slip out unwarranted.

“Oh, thank you. I hope I haven’t been too chatty.” You sound pleased but a little self-conscious from his compliment. “I know you must be used to silence when you eat, and I hope I didn’t bother you.”

“Of course not. It’s been interesting.” He figures that’s safe enough for him to say so he doesn’t have to admit that he’s been too physically distracted to really pay attention to your words.

“I am starting to get a bit tired though, how about we take a nap, little guy?” You’re addressing the child now. The kid is not pleased with this proposal, however, and he lets out an unhappy, whiny sound.

“I can take him back in the water if you’d like to rest,” Din suggests. He knows you’ve been on full-blown caregiver duty for days now and he did intend for this little sojourn to be a rest for you.

“Would you? That sounds great.” He can hear the relief in your voice. Slipping his helmet back on, he cleans up his side of the picnic before coming around to pick up the kid, and he notices the grateful look in your eyes. Din leaves you to your nap, only glancing back once to see you bunching up his cape to use as a pillow. The gesture makes him chuckle and he’s glad he could give you some time to yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, the weather has turned somewhat and there’s a cooler breeze blowing. It’s not a great day for swimming, but, Din thinks with a smile, it will be perfect for self-defense training with you. When he tells you this plan after breakfast, he’s hoping you’re up for it.

“Yes, I think it’s a good idea,” you respond to his suggestion, “Thank you for offering, Mando, I would like to learn some more moves.”

“Good” He doesn’t try to hide his enthusiasm at sharing some of his knowledge with you. Din knows he can’t be with you at all times and the more you can protect yourself the less he will worry. In anticipation of you agreeing to training, he’s forgone his armor today, save the helmet of course.

After a careful explanation to the child about how you’ll both be pretend fighting and a warning that he is to stay in your sight at all times, Din and you are ready to begin. He starts by explaining four main areas of weakness that can allow you to inflict damage with minimal effort: the stomach, the instep, the nose, and the groin. He also points out other areas, like knees and ankles, that can be weakened fairly quickly allowing you to escape. Then he takes you through some basic movements that are easy but effective. He’s sure to teach moves that will work with either your arms or your legs in case your attacker has incapacitated one or the other.

“What if I can’t move my arms or my legs?” You ask in a worried voice.

“Well, then use that big brain of yours to try and talk your way out of things.” Din knows that wasn’t the answer you were looking to get, but he hopes the teasing compliment will distract you from any worse case scenarios you can imagine.

“Gee, thanks,” you respond, but you’re smirking at him so he knows it was a good tactic.

“Let’s try it all out now. I’ll pretend to attack you and you try to escape. But uh, maybe don’t try any of the nose moves because the beskar will just hurt your hand.” Din says.

“Got it, nose off-limits for this.” You nod, but then give him a sassy look, “What about the groin?”

“Look, do what you need to, but I would appreciate it if that’s not your primary target every time,” he says. You just laugh in response to that, and before you realize it, Din is attacking you head on.

“Hey, wait, I wasn’t ready,” you protest as Din’s arms grab yours tightly.

“I know, so what’re you gonna do about it?” He’s smirking at you until you manage to kick his shin hard and then his ankle. It’s not enough to make him let go, but it does hurt. “Alright, good, keep trying.”

It takes you a few attempts, but eventually you manage to break free from his hold. He makes you practice several times, changing up his angle of attack as he goes to keep the element of surprise. After each little session, he gives you advice to help you improve and he praises you for the good hits you managed to land. Finally, you’re pleading with him for a break and some water. He gives in and you walk over to the child to check on him. The little one has been amazingly good this whole time, playing with a couple of his toys and looking up every so often to watch the entertainment you’re both providing.

Din has been enjoying himself immensely. Although you’ve probably given him a few new bruises, he’s proud of how well you listened to his teaching and genuinely pleased by the quick progress you’ve made. Plus, he’s thankful you’ve tactfully avoided hitting him in the groin thus far. Although he’s given you permission to use what he’s taught you, he’d rather not have any bruising there. As you turn to head back over to the patch of grass where you’ve been training, Din realizes your guard is still down, so it’s a perfect opportunity for him to surprise you again. Only this time he misjudges his speed and strength as he’s a little too excited at the idea of catching you unaware and he ends up tackling you to the ground.

“Mando!” You let out a surprised yelp as you scramble in the grass with Din on top of you. He pushes himself up on his arms, but all this serves to do is make him more aware of your position as now he’s looking down at you, under him. It sends a hot feeling of pure lust through his chest and stomach, which ends up right between his legs at the precise moment you choose to arch your back and brush your hips up against his. So much for avoiding his groin. Your move is purely instinctual, Din thinks, an attempt to try to move him off of you. But the friction feels too good and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes his throat. Without thinking, he pushes his hips into yours, grinding himself against you. It isn’t until he sees your eyes widen and you let out a gasp, that he finally comes to his senses and jumps off of you as fast as he can. His face heats up under the helmet, as embarrassment washes over him. He knows you must have felt how hard he is for you right now, how could you not? He’d almost rather you had punched him there instead.

“I- I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to uh knock you down.” Din is stumbling over his words as he’s trying to regain control over himself. He realizes too late that you’re still sprawled on the ground and that if he were any type of gentleman he should offer to help you up. Awkwardly he reaches out a hand to you and helps you to your feet, but he’s afraid of touching you for too long so he drops your hand the second you’re upright, terrified that he’ll do or say something else stupid. Shit! What did I just do? I should apologize more, right? But what the hell do I say?

“Are you OK? Did I hurt you? I’m really sorry, really, that was stupid of me, I-” Din is babbling now but he can’t think of the right words to say. I’m sorry for rutting into you like a horny jerk?

“It’s ok, Mando, I’m alright. I’m not hurt.” You’re laughing it off and brushing some grass out of your hair. “You just surprised the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to come at you that hard-” Din tries to explain but then realizes that your eyes flick down just for a second at the word hard. He’s still very obviously aroused and clearly, you’re aware of that. All of his bravado from yesterday is gone and he doesn’t care if you like what you see, he just wants you to not despise him.

“Mando, really, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. But maybe that’s enough training for the day.” You’re being very magnanimous about the situation, in his opinion. You have every right to be angry with him, but instead you give him a reassuring smile and a little pat on the arm. “I learned a lot, and again, I appreciate you teaching me.”

You turn toward the child and head over to him, saying “Hey buddy, feel like going for a walk?” The baby coos up at you in delight and reaches his arms up to you indicating that he wants to be carried for this ‘walk’.

Great, she can’t wait to get away from me. Din lets a new wave of shame wash over him, but he can’t blame you for wanted some space right now.

You surprise him though when you say, “C’mon Mando, let’s go explore this place a bit more.”

“You want me to come along?” He doesn’t believe he heard you correctly.

“Yes, of course,” you say warmly, “Unless you’re too worn out from my excellent new defensive moves to walk?” You voice has a teasing lilt to it again, and he’s relieved to know you don’t seem to be mad at him. He feels better and is thankful you seem to accept his apology.

“You’re going to have to do a lot more to me than that before I’m too tired to walk.” He responds smugly as he comes over to join you.

You turn to face him, and with a gleam in your eye and a little smirk on your lips, you say, “Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few things I could do that would tire you out.”

Once again, Din is thankful for his helmet as there is no way to hide the utter shock on his face at your words. Are you flirting with him? Could it be possible that you’re interested in him in that way? He tells himself that he’s being ridiculous and that he needs to get a grip on his hormones. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down.

You’re too busy laughing to notice his inner turmoil, and when you finally catch your breath, you say, “I couldn’t resist saying that, you set me up so perfectly.”

He laughs with you letting it break the tension he’s feeling, telling you, “Yeah, you’re hilarious.” So you were only joking. That’s good to know. You’re probably just trying to put him at ease and smooth over any awkwardness.

“Let’s head this way,” you gesture with a point of your finger and give him another smile.

Din walks with you and the child along the lakeshore following a small path that leads up a hill. When you reach the top, you’re rewarded with a view of a field of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze on one side and a view of the soft blue waters of the lake on the other. The clouds have thinned out leaving a bright blue sky with the sun streaming down; all together, it’s a picturesque sight.  

“Oh this is so pretty,” you sigh happily, “I’m so glad you brought us here, Mando.” The child also makes a contented cooing sound.

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying it.” Din tells you softly. As pretty as the view is, he only has eyes for your face. The evident joy you have in seeing this simple landscape pulls at his heart and he wishes there were a way for him to give you this feeling every day. The emotion he’s feeling grows when he feels you slip your hand into his. You don’t say anything at first, you just remain there holding his hand and looking out at the view for a moment.

You squeeze his hand before you let go and say, “Thank you for this, bringing me to Crucival. It’s a lovely place. You’re a good friend to me too, Mando.”

Your words echo his from a few nights ago, but there’s something about hearing you call him a friend that disappoints him. It’s not enough, he realizes, he wants to be more than a friend to you. It’s a dangerous thought.

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Thank you for reading! Keep reading: Chapter 4: A Fairly Indecent Proposal 

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[writing-in-april]

Surprise Pretty Boy

Spencer x Female Reader

Summary- You haven’t had sex in a while, because of your job and your infatuation with Spencer Reid. You proposition him for sex and have a big surprise waiting for him.

Warnings- Smut, soft sub Spencer/ dom reader, nipple piercings (female), oral (male receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

A/n- this is my first smut, I’m a little nervous to post tbh. This is edited but only a bit and also my requests are open! Some of the formatting is weird too I’m on mobile sorry!

Masterlist

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I needed to fuck the shit out of someone, it’s been too long at this point. I couldn’t even remember the last fuck I had, I think it was 8 months ago at a bar. It didn’t help that I rarely got out of the house because of my job, the BAU never slept so neither did I.

We had just gotten home from a stressful case that almost ended in disaster. All I wanted to do at this point was unwind by having a mind blowing orgasm but there were no men or women in sight. Unless I went for Spencer who I had a massive crush on, he was honestly the reason I stopped getting laid. I just couldn’t get railed by a one night stand without thinking of him, it got too weird and I just wanted the real thing.

I was so desperate tonight that I might shoot my shot, we just happened to be the last ones in the office doing paperwork. My horny mind had been preventing me from being fully productive all day, but I had finally finished my massive stack of reports. Spencer often took on the slack of everyone else when it came to paperwork, something that I’ll never understand, but he did look cute when his eyebrows furrowed in concentration trying to write as fast as he could. God I just wanted to break him. Maybe I would deny him orgasms all night or ride him into the sunset and watch his whimpering face as he begs me to stop after making him cum multiple times.

Spencer has noticed that I was unashamedly staring and he shot me an inquisitive look.

“You ok?” His voice snapped me out of my x-rated daydream.

“Yeah just thinking.”

“About?” He scrunched his nose in typical Spencer fashion. Fuck it, I’ll be honest with him, he was too cute for me to not at least attempt to make a move.

“How much I want to fuck you” I stated bluntly, a look of shock spread across his face.

“Y-you want to w-what?” His voice started to raise a few octaves, getting to that squeaky pitch that made me want him even more.

I slowly sauntered over to his desk chair and swung my legs around him so I was straddling him. His big brown eyes had become as wide as saucers and he started stuttering, his hands betrayed his nervous persona as they immediately sat above my ass.

“I. Want. To. Fuck. You. Spencer” I said with conviction, he gulped hard and sighed deeply mulling over the thoughts racing through his head.

“I-I want y-you to fuc-ck me, can we go back to your place?”

I nodded a yes to him “Only one rule tonight Spencer, I’m in charge. Is that ok with you?” He bobbed his head back in a yes, then we both got our things and raced to the elevator.

I pulled Spencer into my car with a promise of giving him a ride to work tomorrow, and probably broke 50 traffic laws on the ride home.

We both bolted out of the car and stumbled through my doorway in a heated make out session once I finally got the door to open. I pushed him against my closed front door and slipped my tongue into Spencer’s mouth fully dominating the kiss. My arms fully enveloped his larger frame and I started to tug him over to my couch so I could fully enjoy him.My legs swung over his lap straddling him for the second time that night. We continued to make out on the couch like horny teenagers for what felt like bourse until Spencer started to paw at my blouse. I leaned in to start kissing and biting on his collarbone that was peaking out from under his button up. My lips slowly worked their way up the column of his throat and I bit on the shell of his ear, which let me hear a gorgeous moan.

“I have a surprise for you pretty boy” I breathily whispered into his ear as I dragged my palm across his jaw. He let out a gorgeous whine and rutted his hips up into me. He was in for a shock, I had gotten my nipples pierced when I was younger to make them more sensitive. I hope Spencer would appreciate as much as I did.

I slowly peeled my shirt off my figure, I had no bra on and my pierced nipples hardened as the cool air hit them. Spencer’s eyes widened and he let out a little beautiful squeak at the sight.

“You like what you see?” I smirked and batted my eyelashes. All he could do was nod eagerly in response, he greedily leaned forward and almost immediately wrapped his mouth around my nipple. I moaned at the sudden contact and I started to grind on his hard crotch again. His mouth continued to suckle on my bud combined with the hard metal as his other hand came to pinch my other nipple.

Was it possible to orgasm from nipple stimulation? Normally I’d say no, but the way Spencer’s mouth sucked on my bud was getting me off better then most guys with their hand down my pants. Plus the way his bulge was hitting right at my clothed clit was almost enough to push me over the edge. Spencer must have sensed how close I was and snuck one of his hands in my pants. He deftly worked his finger on my clit which pushed me over the cliff.

“Oh my god Spencer” I moaned out as I rode out my first high of the night. His eyes raked over my form in awe, I had no doubt that he was enjoying this just as much as I was.

After I had come down I slowly slid down onto my hard wood floors not really caring for the pain from being on my knees.

“Thank you Spencer, you were such a good boy” Even though I was the one down on my knees I was still in full control.

Spencer’s pupils were blown wide in lust as I undid his belt buckle and pulled his boxers and slacks down all at once.

I bit my lip as I got a good look at what Spencer was packing not to thick but god was it long. I moaned in anticipation of how good the stretch would feel but for now I just wanted my mouth to work its magic.

He was already painfully hard but I wanted to tease him a bit more so I slowly started to move my hand up and down his shaft. I was purposely barely gripping him, I wanted to see how desperate I could make him. His eyes had shut at this point, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he let out a breathy moan.

“Please do something” he gasped out, so I slowly leaned forward and took his head in my mouth but I still barely gave him the relief he was looking for. He hadn’t begged enough yet.

He tried to apply pressure on my head, I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the couch.

“Holy shit y/n please!” His raspy voice was raised to an octave I didn’t think was possible. So I finally relented taking him back as far as possible into my throat and precum filled my mouth as an indicator of his desire. The sounds that Spencer was making were music to my ears, he moaned loud each time I took him to the back of my throat. I could tell that he was about to cum so I suddenly pulled my mouth off of him with a soft pop.

He whined at the loss of contact, he almost looked like a baby that had gotten his candy taken away.

“Don’t worry baby boy I want you to cum inside me instead. Is that alright with you?” He seemed to enjoy the nickname and bit his lip nodding his head once more.

“Y/n please fuck me.” I loved hearing him beg like the good boy he was. I crawled up into his lap again and slowly sunk down onto his length letting myself feel every ridge of his cock. Spencer moaned the loudest he had all night, which I didn’t even think was possible. His breath was shaky and I could tell it was taking all of his will not to thrust up into me, he was being a good boy by waiting patiently.

Once I adjusted to his length I started to bounce on him making him even more breathless then before. Then Spencer pulled me closer to him and started to play with my nipples again, I could tell he fully appreciated my piercings.

“Your such a good boy Spencer always taking care of me.” I gasped out, my hands wound through his hair and pulled his head back hard. His blissed our state was an amazing sight to see, his mouth was open in a gasp, his eyes were barely open and in a glassy state.

“I’m so close y/n” he whimpers our pitifully

“I’m close to baby boy help me get there with you” My words barely escaped coherently but he understood bringing one of his hands off of my ass to my clit. His large dexterous fingers rubbed tight circles on my clit and suddenly my vision turned white.

After I rode out my high my focus was back on Spencer.My lips sucked beautiful hickies onto his neck that would be a pain to cover up, I honestly didn’t care at this point.

“C’mon baby boy cum for me” I gently coaxed him to his release in a few last hard bounces. His strangled moans accompanied with the ropes he shot into me helped me into another small orgasm that I barely registered was on the brink.

“Holy shit” I gasped out after I had somewhat caught my breath. I started to get up to go to the bathroom, so I’d prevent a UTI when Spencer’s arms wrapped around my frame.

“Stay” he breathlessly whispered.

“I’ll come back and cuddle but I really don’t want a UTI Spencer. You’d be the first one to remind me of that.” He relented and let go, my feet padded through my apartment everything else quiet as I made my way to the bathroom. After I had relieved myself I grabbed a washcloth to clean him up as well. I made my way back to his sleepy form cleaning him up and I let him envelope me again after I was done. We cuddled naked in silence for a while waiting for someone to bring up the awkwardness that would surely come up after a night like this.

I knew that Spencer would never be the one to make the first move, just like with my request to fuck him so I decided to take another leap of faith tonight.

“Spencer”I quietly whispered bringing him out of his thoughts “I don’t think of you as a one night stand or a friends with benefits I truly like you. I-I’d like to go on a date if you want to?” He looked a little surprised also mixed with relief? I couldn’t tell as I waited in bated breath for his answer.

“I’d like that to y/n, I was honestly scared you’d only want this to be a one time thing” he admitted meekly, I basically lunged at him kissing his beautiful lips.

“Round 2?” I asked between kisses

“Only if this time I can be in charge?” He cheekily asked.

“Oh definitely Sir”

----------------------

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #mgg #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #smut

[stargazing-enby]

Trans Fest fic claim

Thank you so much to the @hptransfest​​ mods for organising this wonderful fest once again, and to @april-thelightfury115, @secretlycrazyhummingbird ​and @drarryruinedme7 for the encouragement and help!

Luna-centric (with a dash of Luna/Ginny/Neville) | 800 words | General Audiences | Trans, Asexual, Polyamorous Luna, Advice Columnist Luna, Fluff, Feel-Good, Gender Euphoria

Summary: Advice columnist Luna Lovegood receives a question from a trans teenager: what does home feel like?

Read Dear Luna on AO3 or below the cut:

THE QUIBBLER

31st March 2014

Q:

Dear Luna,

Thank you so much for running this column. Your advice to others has been eye-opening to me in the last few months, and I think I’m finally ready to ask you a question I’ve been asking myself for years. I’m 17, trans, and I live with my parents at the moment. I wouldn’t say they’re bad parents—they love me dearly, and I love them too—but I don’t think they quite understand me. I don’t think I can be myself in their house: not fully, not without justifying myself to them. So I often find myself wondering about the idea of home. What does it feel like? How do you know you’ve finally found a place you can call home? Is it even possible to find one if you’re incapable of feeling at home around your own parents? I’m kind of terrified that I’ll always feel like a stranger around the people I love.

Thank you in advance!

Bee

A:

My dear Bee,

What a beautiful, wonderful question to ask. Home is arguably the most simple and yet convoluted concept humanity has ever come up with: it is as plain and as universal as a feeling of belonging, and yet so intricate, so abstract, that no two people would define it the same way: often not even the people You share a home with, or who feel like home to You.

Home can be a place: your parents’ house, or Hogwarts, or the treehouse You hide in when You want to forget the world; home can be a person—a parent, a lover, a friend—or a group of people, or the place where You get to spend time with them. Home can be multiple and singular, tangible and ineffable all at once: home can be a memory, a hope, or a daydream. It can be a cheap hair clip or an invaluable family heirloom. Home can be You, too: your mind, your body; a means through which You radically love and accept yourself despite it all.

I would say, for me and at this moment of my life, home is the gardens of my beautiful house in the hills, where I get to spend time with my partners and with myself: where I help Neville tend to his plants and watch Ginny practice her Quidditch manoeuvres, and where I lie on my hammock and mull over my thoughts about questions like yours while I listen to the birds. Home is our kitchen, bathed by the sun rays during golden hours and smelling of homemade muffins; it’s my favourite wrinkles on Ginny’s face when she can’t stop laughing and the way Neville pulls me closer when he’s about to fall asleep. Home is having our friends over, and knowing that they, too, call our house their home, because they feel welcome, safe and happy when we’re together.

Home is my favourite dress that I own right now: it’s a vibrant red and it caresses my legs with the wind and has enough pockets to collect every rock on the river shore, and it makes me feel like I’m walking over the clouds instead of underneath them. Home is my body, too: the joy I experience through it, and the beauty of being able to exist in the world as myself and nobody else.

But, most importantly, home is all the things, people, and places that have been home for me throughout different moments of my life, and which I carry close to my heart even if I’ve outgrown them: the small clearing in Hogwarts’ Forbidden Forest where the Thestrals used to nap after their afternoon meal. The first flower I ever tucked behind my ear, long before I felt at ease within my body or mind. The names I tried out for myself before I fell in love with Luna, and the people I shared heated kisses with before I learned to love the fact that the only kisses I truly want to give are of the domestic, and not the passionate kind.

And this is because home, dear Bee, isn’t one single thing we must hope and wish for all our lives: home is not final, nor is it immutable. It’s all the big and little ways in which we fall in love with life and with ourselves. It is that which makes us feel whole, understood, embraced, and at ease at any given moment of our lives, no matter how lost, stranded, or hopeless we might feel. Home is so overwhelmingly universal, even in its ephemerality, that there is no one person incapable of experiencing it, because how could a human never come across anything that makes them feel whole, even if only for a fraction of a second?

Or at least that’s what home is for me. You might find, with time, that home to You is something entirely different. But isn’t that the best part, after all—to know that You get to discover all the things that are home to You?

Love,

Luna

(Reblogs are incredibly appreciated!)

#OTPshipper98 #hp trans fest 2021 #Trans HP #trans luna lovegood #Asexual luna Lovegood #Polyamorous Luna Lovegood #Luna x Ginny x Neville #Luna x Neville x Ginny #Ginny x Luna x Neville

[professorbcampbell]

Seeds of Change || Solo

Timing: March 28th, 2021

Location: The Common

Tagging: @professorbcampbell

Description: Ben decides to see what the Spring Festival has to offer beyond the garden variety flowers and hedges. He finds something rather unique.

When Ben had first caught sight of the spring festival during his run-in—he smirked to himself at that little joke—with Irene, he had initially brushed it off as nothing more than something his mother would probably enjoy. Prize rose judging, people attempting to chop down bushes and call it art, that sort of silly thing. But, he’d chosen to venture deeper into the depths of the festival on the weekend. He couldn’t remember the last time they had a spring festival of this… botanical in nature. And he had an impeccable memory. Ben had always made a point of being involved in the periphery of as many social gatherings and events as he could, keeping an eye out for whatever wandering soul might happen upon him.

Hands stuck in the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers, Ben meandered through the stalls. Tulips, gardenias, orchids—there was no rhyme or reason to the types of flowers that were sprouting up from the stalls. But, he wasn’t looking for flowers.

No, he was interested in something… worthy of his Lord. His monthly ritual was fast approaching and it had been quite some time since he’d gifted his Lord with something beyond the usual offerings of blood and bone. Strolling along the grass, Ben spotted a man smoking away at a pipe—a disgusting habit—at a stand with some rather… unusual wares. The stall was shrouded in dark cloth hangings, with chests tucked away in the back. Meanwhile, the front of the stand was lined with sturdy, barred wooden boxes that held… watermelons? Normally, such a stand wouldn’t have interested him at all, but there was something drawing him in, something seemed to be pulling him towards it.

As he made his way towards the stall, he stared first at the strange fruit on display. All of them seemed to be rustling with an energy Ben was most familiar with. Intent. Dark intent. Looking down at the boxes, Ben noticed there was a strange gap in the watermelon rind, as though they’d already been sliced into. But, as he peered closer, he could see the ruby red flesh was darkened with a glossy sheen that Ben had seen so many times before. Blood.

“Interesting product you have there.” He said to the man, offering a smile. “Do you sell other items?”

The man regarded him for a moment, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth as he stared at Ben from behind bored, dark eyes. “Nothing you’d be interested in.” The man said gruffly. “I don’t think you’d even want one of these. They’re a bit more trouble than they’re worth. Well. They are for some.”

Irritation bubbled in Ben at the implication, but he let out a laugh, “Ah, appearances can be deceiving. I’m more than familiar with things like this.”

“You’re in over your head. Go look at some tulips, pretty boy. Get some flowers for your lady.” The man said, grasping the end of his pipe to point the stem dismissively at Ben. As he did so, Ben could see a hint of silver flashing between his teeth—oh, how very interesting. He was familiar with the stories, had spent so many hours listening to his parents and his grandparents, passing along the stories that their parents and grandparents had told about the creatures that lived in this town. He had heard about the men with silver tongues, with smoke billowing from their noses. Never seen one, not as far as he could tell. But here was one, right in front of him.

Ben knew he had to make the right impression.

With a rueful shake of his head, Ben glanced down at the strange watermelons again. “I’d really love to get a better look at these.” He said and his fingers went for the wooden clasps of the box. The man behind the stand let out a strangled swear and reached out to slap his hands away. Immediately, Ben grasped the man’s hand tightly in his own. The man tried to squirm away, but the moment he did, Ben could feel the ancient signet ring he wore on his left-hand press against the vendor’s flesh. It was an old heirloom, passed from father to son for generations, and he had always worn it with pride. The dark, heavy metal was worn and looked distinctly shabby in comparison to the well-kept suits he favored, but it was a piece of Campbell tradition. A piece of history and ancient power. A gift, granted to them directly by an acolyte of their Lord, hundreds of years ago.

And that power, it was with him today. The smell of charring flesh filled the air between them as the man tried to wrench his hand free, but Ben’s hands were a vice grip around him. He could feel the man’s skin sizzling against him, knew that a deep, burning “C” was being branded into his palm. Leaning forward, Ben held the man’s gaze and said in a pleasant, warm voice. “Now. Vampiric watermelons are a bit banal, don’t you think? I’m looking for something unique,” a worthy offering to his Lord, something that he could gift him at the coming ritual, “Something worthy of a higher power. What can you offer me?”

The man let out a halting, stuttering, “L-Lots. Lots to offer. Just—just let me go.” He pleaded. Ben tilted his head with a growing smile, not releasing the man’s hand.

“Oh? But I thought I was in over my head,” He squeezed tighter, driving the ring deeper into the burning flesh. Blood was beginning to drip through their interlocked hands, sizzling as it made contact with the metal around his finger. “I thought I was just a pretty boy. You’d really give something like that to me?”

“Yes.” The man choked out as Ben gripped his hand. He could feel the center of the ring begin to burn and sear its way towards the bone of his hand. “Yes, anything, anything you want. Just let me go, let me go!”

Triumphant, Ben released the man’s hand and pulled back to look at the stand with a thoughtful expression. Meanwhile, the vendor was swearing, tears running down his face as he wrapped his charred and bleeding hand in the hem of his shirt. Ben paid no mind, eyes too busy greedily taking in the items before him. Boxes filled with unknown contents, bottles with strange, glowing liquids, bones strung up into mysterious charms, feathers with a luster he’d never seen before—so much to choose from. So much, too much.

“You know,” Ben said, voice light and conversational, “I’d hardly call myself an expert on things of this nature. I’m sure you’d agree. No, you sir, are far wiser than I.” He said with a toothy smile before leaning forward, the blood slicked surface of his ring glinting in the light. The man recoiled visibly, backing away into one of the stacked boxes kept behind him.

“I want your most valuable item.” Ben said. The vendor’s face paled and, for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to protest. But, even as the thought crossed his face, Ben watched with interest as the man doubled over, as though stricken by a wave of pain. Was it because of the power of the ring? Was it compelling him to obedience? Or was it something else? Ben didn’t know, but he watched with growing fascination as the man jerkily turned around.

His movements were stiff and halting as he pulled a strange, curving key that seemed to be made of… woven twigs? No, Ben realized as the man fumbled to push it into the latch of a dark, oaken chest. It was a single piece of wood that had been grown into the shape of a skeleton key, dark green leaves sprouting from the handle.

With some difficulty, the man extricated a small velvet pouch from the box and tossed it across the stand at Ben. He caught it easily, undoing the draw strings with growing curiosity. What could be in it? Some kind of magical elixir? An ancient treasure, with incredible power? He emptied the contents into the palm of his hand and blinked. Seeds. Three plain, dusty looking seeds sat in his hand.

“This? This is the best you have?” He said in disbelief, shaking his head as he dropped the seeds back into the bag. He tucked the little pouch into the pocket of his jacket, resting above his heart. The man stared at him with spiteful eyes.

“Get away from me and away from my stall.” The man spat, “I’ve done as I said, and you’ll not get another word out of me.”

With a self-satisfied shrug, Ben wiped his bloody hand clean on the cloth banner of the stand before backing away. He wasn’t sure what he’d been given, but if that… creature considered it his most valuable possession, it would be more than satisfactory to gift to Lord Hrvsht’ooooor. Ben could see it now—he could see himself dressed in his robes, the scent of fresh blood in the crisp midnight air, surrounded by the others of his order. He could picture himself, drinking deeply from the dark chalice that sat at their altar, presenting his humble offerings to his Lord. And his Lord, He would be pleased. He would know of the power of these seeds, know that his servant had proved himself.

He would reward him, finally grant Ben everything he’d ever wanted—

A stumbling man careened into Ben, wrenching him from his pleasant daydream. The man—at least a foot shorter than him—did his best to right himself, grasping onto Ben’s suit with a filthy, dirt covered hand.

“Sorry, sorry.” The man giggled, steadying himself before offering an almost drunken head bobble.

“Get off me,” Ben said with disgust, yanking his arm away from the man’s grasp. He’d already lost his suits to horned rats, he was not interested in having another one ruined by filth. “Get out of here.”

“Already gone!” The man sang as he darted away, stumbling into the crowd of people.

With an irritated frown, Ben made his way through the Common towards the parking lot. He’d had rather enough of this little festival. It was high time he returned home and prepare for the coming ritual. He had an offering to prepare, invitations to send out, he needed to get wine—probably a cheese platter for the celebration after. As he mulled over these details, his hands went to the pocket of his jacket for his car keys. His fingers closed around his key ring but…

Swearing, Ben patted his jacket furiously. It was all in vain, the pouch had disappeared. It was nowhere to be found. The seeds, that were rightfully his, they had been stolen. It must have been that disgusting little man, the one who’d fallen into him. How had he not noticed? How had he not felt it? How could he have just let them be taken like that?

As Ben continued to search his pockets with increasing desperation, a sinking feeling of realization filled the pit of his stomach. Of course. Of course.

The man had stolen his wallet, too.

#p: soc #solo #wickedswriting

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: Set before the series Texts with times in front of them and no name or initials in front of them indicate reader’s texts

Warnings: Eventual infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you. Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Summary: Laurie was where my communication with the Barber family started and stopped for about two weeks.

I learned that Laurie was one of those people that texted an upside-down smiley face to mean things like ‘no problem!’ and not ‘I’m dying inside!’ like the rest of the world. She and I had promised to keep in touch-- right before I’d had nearly forty uninterrupted minutes with Andy. Forty minutes that I had absolutely tried not to dwell on but had definitely spent way too much of my downtime dissecting. Laurie and I didn’t text one another constantly. Now and again she’d send me an article that she thought I might find interesting, or I’d link her to a podcast that I thought might suit her tastes. But Laurie was where my communication with the Barber family started and stopped for about two weeks. That is, until I got a call on my cell phone at 8:06 pm on Thursday from a number I didn’t know. I hesitated in picking it up -- it was rare that a client or a source called me that late unless it was an emergency. I was still at the office, and I was dreading the prospect of what had become a late night becoming an even later one. “Hello?” I answered it, grimacing. “You hungry?” Andy’s voice crackled over the line. My brow furrowed. “How did you get my number?” I asked. “From Laurie’s phone,” was his easy answer, “You hungry?” “Is this part of some kind of town-wide survey I don’t know about? Like is this where my tax-payer dollars are going?” “Yes or no, c’mon, I‘m getting cold out here.” I frowned, pushing myself up from my desk and walking over to the window. I looked outside to see Andy there, leaning against my car and looking up at the building. Why was he here this late? Shouldn’t he be getting home? Why was he even calling me-- “Give me five minutes,” I said. That talk that I’d given myself about boundaries hadn’t exactly sunk in.

-- “I don’t know,” Andy shook his head as he loosened his tie, “I mean on the one hand I’ve sort of mentored the guy, but... He’s been more outwardly ambitious lately. Not gunning for our boss’ job, but talking about what he’d do differently if he was in her position.”  “I mean, that’s not the worst thing in the world. I don’t always agree with Nora, sometimes there are things that I think she could be doing differently.” “Yeah, but do you go around to your coworkers and discuss them?” Andy asked. I shook my head. “Exactly,” He muttered before he picked his water up for a drink. I considered this for a moment. “Well... I think you have to decide what’s more important to you: your interpersonal relationships or office politics. You say you’ve mentored the guy-- ‘sort of’ mentored the guy, but he’s been vocal about disagreeing with you boss. If you stick too close to him, that could signal to your boss that you’re not on her side, even if you are,” I offered, “And it doesn’t mean that you can’t be friends with the guy, but sometimes that bit of distance is important.” God, did I sound like a fucking hypocrite or what? Our conversation was interrupted by our food arriving. “Alright, the fact that you have a ‘late-night usual’ here is making me a little worried,” Andy commented, watching as I picked up one of my fries. We’d wound up at Harvey’s Diner around the corner from my office building - which was only a few blocks from the court house. “We’re a small firm, sometimes things are all-hands-deck. And sometimes it’s not even work related, sometimes I just want a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato and like, ten o’clock,” I shrugged, “I have to call to get it delivered, they’re not on Seamless or anything. They know me.” "Well, that only makes me slightly less worried,” Andy said. I snorted. “Which is pretty hypocritical, considering the fact that you’re here right now,” I pointed out. “I mean, yeah, but I at least had to look at the menu,” Andy argued. “Whatever,” I waved it off, “What’s got you here so late, anyway?” “I had a conference call with a witness that’s in LA right now. They had to take a trip, family business,” Andy said. We both went quiet as we tucked into our food, I into my grilled cheese, and Andy into his burger. “How often would you say you stay at work late?” He asked. I folded my arms on the table, raising a brow. “Why do you ask?” “Just...Ballpark, how often would you say you’ve stayed late over the last couple of weeks?” I narrowed my eyes at him. This felt like a trap. “Ballpark? Three times.” “Eight,” Andy corrected. “Have you been spying on me? Weirdo,” I accused, pointing at him with a fry. “I drive past your office on my way home. Once I realized it was your car...” He trailed off, “I’m just saying, if I’m heading home before you do that often, there might be a problem.”  "We’ve been busy, is all. We’re in the process of hiring new people, but until we’re able to, the work still has to get done,” I excused. Andy’s leg brushed against mine under the table before it settled there, his foot hooking around the back of my ankle. I frowned at him, curious. “You’re too young to start burning out,” He chided softly. “I’m not burnt out yet. You can’t have this conversation with me for at least another week,” I teased, knocking my knee against his gently. He smiled, but he shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’d rather not worry about you the entire drive home for another week,” He said. I dropped my eyes to my plate, picking up another fry and swirling it around my little splodge of ketchup. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I absolved him. "Logically, no, I don’t. That doesn’t stop me from worrying, though,” He murmured. I chanced a glance at his face, and immediately realized I shouldn’t have - he was watching me with this almost nervous care, like he’d frighten me off if he spoke any louder or leaned in too close. And maybe he would. I was already alarmed by my rekindled interest in the guy. It was as hopeless as it was when I was younger. Nothing was going to happen between the two of us, no matter how much I thought about it. I shook my head. “You’ve got more important shit to worry about,” I passed it off before nodding to his burger, “Like your food getting cold.” “We need to have a serious talk about your self-esteem if you think you rank below a burger on my list of priorities,” Andy raised a brow. I shouldn’t even be on your list of priorities, I thought, and I was itching to say it, but instead I shrugged. “I just know my own worth and how good the burgers are here,” I said. Andy looked like he was preparing to wind up for another pass at whatever this conversation was. “What’d you wind up doing with that pro-bono case?” I asked, diverting him before he could say anything else. He cut me a look that told me that he knew exactly what I was doing, but he didn’t call me out on it. “I managed to talk my boss into taking the legalese case, backed it with the reasoning you and I talked about.” "Wow,” I said, brows raising, “She went for that?” "It was solid reasoning,” Andy defended, shifting in his seat and leaning back in the booth, “Besides, when we win, we can point back to the firm that gave us the defense.” “When, huh?” I repeated, “Someone’s feeling good about it.” ”Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing,” Andy said firmly. I shook my head at the cocky smile that had overtaken his face. “And that confidence, that’s never bitten you in the ass?” I asked. “Nope,” Andy said, popping the ‘p’ as he leaned forward, picking his water up. “Maybe I should’ve included the definition of ‘hubris’ somewhere in those slides,” I sighed, then gasped when Andy flicked the cold condensation from his glass at me. “Rude, Barber!” -- “What’d you forget?” Andy’s voice was close behind me as I pulled my ID badge out to swipe into my office building. I turned around to face him, frowning. “Ah...Nothing?” “Cause your car is right there,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I folded my arms over my chest, giving him a stern look. “I still have work to do,” I reminded him. Andy sighed, lowering his eyes and shaking his head. “You should go home,” He argued. "I will, yeah, once I’m finished,” I agreed. I took another step back toward my building, adding, “Thank you dinner.” I watched Andy lift his eyes to mine before he sucked that plush lower lip between his teeth, clearly wanting to say something else. “Sure,” He said finally. He stepped closer, arms open, and I let myself be drawn into a hug, my face pressed into the collar of his peacoat. "Please don’t stay too late,” He urged quietly, breath ruffling my hair. “I won’t,” I mumbled, “It’s just some finishing touches on a few slides-- But if I tell myself I’ll do it in the morning, I’ll be up all night thinking about it.” Andy stepped back, looking down at me. He gave my arm a light squeeze before letting go. “Text me when you get home,” He said. I nodded, watching him walk away and immediately missing his warmth. -- (6:21 AM) AB: I never got a text and I’m hoping that’s not because you slept at your office. I had woken up to that text and had been almost stunned by it. Some part of me had almost thought that the night before had been some kind of ridiculous daydream, but there was Andy’s text, on my screen, chastising me for not keeping my promise. (7:39 AM) My desk chair actually folds out.

I’d sent the text off and gotten up, going about my morning routine. When I picked my phone up, I saw that I’d gotten a response, but I put off reading it. I didn’t want to get too used to this, this contact. It was better if my Barber interactions went through Laurie. I had spent far too long at my office last night mulling over our dinner, over Andy’s comment about his priorities, over the feeling of his leg resting against mine. I waited until I was back at my desk at nearly 9 to see what he’d texted me. (8:02 AM) AB: You’re kidding, but I wouldn’t put it past you. (8:33 AM) AB: ... You are kidding, right?

I held off answering until I’d settled in, checked my emails, gotten a few things sorted. (9:34 AM) Thanks again for dinner.

(9:36 AM) AB: You didn’t answer about the desk chair and now I’m really worried that you weren’t kidding. (9:46 AM) Shouldn’t you be in court? (9:47 AM) AB: Who says I’m not? (9:59 AM) Common sense, mostly.

(10:04 AM) AB: I’m in my office. (10:39 AM) AB: Hungry? (10:52 AM) Is that all you think about? Food? (11:03 AM) AB: We could grab lunch. I bet you have a regular lunch order at Harvey’s that I don’t know about. What was he doing? There was no way he was this worried about whether or not I was taking care of myself. A moment later, my phone buzzed again with a text from Laurie - a link to an upcoming exhibit at the Gardner Museum. And then a far more logical Andy-related conclusion popped into my head: maybe Laurie had mentioned that I seemed lonely (not having plans on a Friday night, learning that I worked late most nights if Andy had mentioned it to her), or had voiced some other concern, and this way his way of assuaging that. It seemed like something he’d do to make her happy. I sent Laurie a quick ‘thanks’ before I opened Andy’s the text, finally answering: (11:18 AM) Slammed with meetings today, brought my own. Thanks, though

(11:19 AM) AB: Maybe next time. (11:19 AM) AB: Don’t work too hard. I scoffed, setting my phone down with a mumble of, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

#andy barber x reader #andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #I Could Be Your Sometimes

[lemonietrinket]

Dreams Come True ||| Johnny x MakeupArtist!Reader

summary: johnny is kind to all the members of staff, and so you believe that he thinks no differently of you genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst but you have to squint, some more heated elements its john warning(s): slightly more inferred heated elements than i usually make, but otherwise none word count: 2189  song(s): ambience an: sorry anon for the wait! this really wasnt supposed to be long, i literally wrote it in my drabble format, and throughout it genuinely felt like it was only 1k words but... yeah. im not changing the format tho no sir. i havent the patience lmao

fem!reader

~~~

the beat of the bass bounced from wall to wall, thumping over the air at the stage and all the way through to the small room you and easily twenty others were mulling around in. a long time ago, the inability to see around the throngs of people—no matter if you knew them or not—would have unnerved you. but now, despite the way you had to curl over the counter of a vanity to make space for the other stylists, you felt at home. because even with your back to the wall, the vibrations running their unnatural fingers along your spine, the gentle smile of an even gentler giant was mere inches from your own, and it left you no option but to be enthralled by nothing but him.

he was grinning despite your repetitive comments asking him not to, as you extended the brush towards his cheeks—probably because you’d said them through small giggles of your own. it wasn’t your fault that his jokes were funny. he had the comedic timing of a god, teasing the others in such a way that it was impossible not to smile... right? he was too gorgeous to block out, but there was no way in hell you would admit that. 

“what?” he enquired teasingly, eyebrows raising beneath the fluttering fingers of the hair stylist stood behind him.

you rolled your eyes, applying more colour to your brush just so you had an excuse to avoid his gaze. you knew full well he stared at people intentionally to make them nervous. you had no idea why he did it to you though. it made you take longer with his make-up and you were already falling behind—you didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know, the fact that you were working at the same time as another stylist was enough. you prayed the smooth breeze from the window was enough to cool the blush off your face as you attempted to focus upon your work, smoothing the rouge across his skin. but it was inevitable that he would capture your attention once again, and he did so with spending barely any effort. his chin tilted upwards for you to get a better view of your canvas, leaving you able to make sure everything was blended properly, but also very nearly unable to breathe.

johnny, the only man you were practically assigned to now after you’d proven your skills during a comeback late last year, was known for caring for the staff. holding doors, giving them space, sitting down so they can reach easier because it was his responsibility that he was a damn tree. since you were practically his personal make-up artist, it was thus no surprise that you were the focus of his caring nature. however, even you were beginning to question how far his gestures went. like now—now was one of those times.

“y/n,” he began, and you immediately caught onto that tone of mischief he always had when he was about to try and catch you off guard.

you sighed, biting your lip to try and remain serious in the face of what you knew would inevitably follow. “yes, john?”

he took that as his cue. “do you mind making my lips a little more red?”

glancing away from his eyes before you could get trapped in them, you stared intently at your handiwork instead. regarding his lips, you felt your eyes narrow. they were plenty bright enough, exactly how you’d done last time. ‘you sneak,’ you thought, ‘does he just find joy out of other people’s embarrassment?’ though you had to question yourself if you were really embarrassed, as a part of you was perfectly happy to bask in the opportunity of touching his plush lips. they were so full and soft that you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander whenever you looked at them. 

when you peered up, searching for the clock on the wall, you caught the hair stylist’s stare. she’d slowed her ministrations, and was now eyeing you blankly. only below the surface was there a glint of warning.  you quickly glanced away, only to accidentally to meet johnny face on. he’d cocked his head on one side, brow creased in that way that threw your heart in a loop. 

“pretty please?”

caught up in his handsome features you could feel the heat rising to your face once again. as much as you willed it away, deep down you knew it was no use. you cursed at yourself in your head, why do you take everything he says so seriously. there’s no way you actually mean anything more to him than just friendly coworker. 

you swallowed with a nod, letting your fingers run aimlessly through your kit while you focused primarily on thinking about something else. dwelling on the impossible would do nothing but lower your mood and you knew that. still, it didn’t mean the tiny spools of daydreams didn’t occasionally slip through. they left you dazed when you came back to the real world, as if their tiny pinpricks of imaginary light grew to the size of blinding headlights in the pitch of night. upon your return you found that your gaze had barely left him at all—as soon as your eyes trickled away, they absently fled right back to him. a circumstance that he always looked so damn happy about. dreams don’t come true, y/n.

you hadn’t registered that the hair stylist had stalked away until johnny spoke up and his words left you fumbling in the mix of your own crush and the fear that someone had overheard.

“you look so cute when you’re focused,” he’d said, grin a hair-width from a knowing smirk, eyes curved in that gentle enticement. it was as if he wanted you to fall. had you not been reeling you perhaps would have scowled. you already had fallen, you didn’t need him to turn up the anti any more than he head—otherwise there would come a stutter that your heart didn’t recover from.   

“sh-shut up,” you stammered, trying to hide the jump of your heartbeat behind a smile. but as his plush lips parted into a chuckle, your mind just trundled straight back to the dreamscape it always visited when you thought of them. 

truly, no one would blame you, because kissing a man like that would be one of the true wonders of the world. the flashes of a possible time, where your lips melded with his and he held you close and safe, away from the rest of the world, where no crowd could ever hurt you, were tantalising to say the least. you bravely gulped them down. 

it would not last however, as johnny was on a mission, it seemed, to make you blush as much as possible. so much for feeling calm.

when you poised your hand by his lips again, he merely insisted, “how can i? with someone like you right here... i just can’t help myself.”

you very nearly choked on those threads of dreams as well as the corniness, whilst he underlined all his words with a sweet smile. the one that made you want to cup his cheeks and feel the gravity of such a person before you. 

you shook your head, to abandon the thoughts as well as shake him off. he’s just trying to make you laugh. “bleghh, now shush,” you managed, praying he’d take your simple response as a sign to quit.

alas, your poor heart, he did not.

“what? do you not believe me?” you didn’t peer up and instead took advantage of the tiny pause to brush more scarlet around the corner of his lips. it was short-lived however, as they then opened in exaggerated surprise, and you only just managed to pull away before you accidentally painted a faded gash across his chin. “you don’t believe me!” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, johnny,” you uttered, hesitantly peeking over at the clock to see the minute hand way too close to the hour for your liking.

he sighed, and had you actually regarded the entirety of his expression, you would have spotted how saddened he looked. “you don’t...? ah, y/n, how could you not realise just how beautiful you are?”

“johnny...” you tapered off. you had expected to come out in more of a warning tone, but with the seconds ticking by at an alarming rate, the elation at his words combined with the nerves and irritation at how you couldn’t do your job all combined to make it sound a lot more emotionless than its nature truly was.

“with your gorgeous smile, pretty eyes, adorable laugh, impeccable fashion sense...” he paused and you could have sworn his breath hitched in his throat, “really, it’s enough to ruin even the strongest of people around here, i w—”

in a desperate attempt to get your job done, without a single thought you raised your hand to grip his chin gently between your thumb and finger. and instantly, all the words he had been suddenly desperate to ramble in that moment were stolen off his tongue, the flirty smirk stilled. 

for a few seconds you were stunned too, before the two minute call rose throughout the room like a game of chinese whispers. in a moment of sheer reflex, you attended to a minuscule patch of faded vermilion and further highlighted an extra line of shadow that in all honesty didn’t need renovation, all while your head span as you interrogated yourself and the world on as to what the hell johnny was playing at. 

“there you’re done.” 

your hand jumped away as if shocked by static, and you began to clean up your cramped workspace. you didn’t give a final look over your masterpiece, you knew the man could pull off pretty much anything thrown at, or in this case upon him. but he didn’t respond, and it was the uncharacteristic silence that brought out just enough confidence within you to turn your head towards him once again. 

you find his honey eyes wide and a small and silent gasp upon those very lips that had said all those confident, sly things. his fingers were tentatively brushing against where yours had been, as if tracing the petals of a rose.

“i-i would know,” he finished out of the blue, expression still in his stupor.

“sorry?”

johnny’s pout was truly something to behold, and it was now different now. as the light in his eyes softened, he murmured just loud enough to be heard only by you over the chatter of staff and bandmates alike, “weren’t you listening?”

tracing backwards through the amalgamation of chaos that had been the past five minutes felt like it would take hours. somehow though, as in the peculiar nature of all thoughts and memories, you managed to trace back just far enough, for enough to fall into place piece by piece. and as soon as a part of the jigsaw was revealed, the wider picture came into focus. despite your own sheer disbelief.

“i... ruined you?” 

he laughed sheepishly then, hand finally moving from his jaw to the back of his neck, the consideration of not ruining his hair style clearly skipping his mind. “well... in all the best terms of the word, yeah.”

silence filled the space between you, leaving the ruckus beyond to only grow and seep into your ears, like the cold of autumn through a forgotten window when the music stopped playing. instinct drew you forward then, as if it were pulling upon strings of fate. your hand twitched in your lap, ready to lift and hold him again, and it was as if both of you forgot where you were—johnny moved forwards in his seat much like you did. 

but then came the frantic yell from the doorway. “johnny, what are you doing?! you’re on stage in literally thirty seconds—!”

the man swept to his feet, making sure to draw his face as close to your ear as he could get away with under the suspicious eyes of the staff surrounding you. you would argue that there was no way that could ever be construed as meaningless, but in the moment there was no way you could care. 

“you’ll help me get this all off, right? after?” he asked, before he leant back. 

you had offered him nothing but a smile, but he knew the gleam in your eyes. it was one of intrigue, one of excitement. with a final glance down to your lips, your crush strode off and out of the room, leaving you with a dozen pairs of eyes all focused intently on you and the bright grin on your face. 

you cleared your throat, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you nodded an apology to them, you hadn’t meant to make him late after all. but nothing could quell the joy that pulsed through your veins, and so you excused yourself for a small break outside to gather your breath in the cool night air. 

maybe dreams do come true after all. 

~~~

an: i dont like this. not one bit. i really struggled to write it bc creativity hates me so im really sorry :((  i hope ill edit it soon, for the benefit of everyone :/

also... im aware that the ambience isnt specific to the scenario right here, but—as much as i love the idea of the videos og scenario—this is the closest thing i could find to what i was after :(( please imagine more chatter with it 

also can you tell i know nothing about makeup? ha

Masterlist

~~~

#nct #johnny nct #nct fluff #johnny fluff #johnny x reader #johnny x reader fluff #nct x reader #nct x reader fluff #johnny imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 johnny #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct oneshot #johnny oneshot #johnny seo #nct johnny #nct 127 oneshot

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

The Funeral

The Curtis parents’ funeral, from Darry’s perspective. Enjoy :)

- 

Frozen. That’s the word. That’s how I’ve felt for the past eight days, five hours, and fourteen minutes. 

In some ways, I don’t think my brain can access the place where it keeps sadness and grief. Growing up like I did, you just don’t let your mind go there. You have to be brave. No crying. No weakness. I have to be strong for my brothers. I can’t let them know I’m suffering and want to fall apart every second of every day since this nightmare began. I have to let them know we’ll be okay. Even if I don’t quite believe it myself.

We got the phone call less than forty-eight hours after we learned mom and dad were gone. As if things couldn’t get harder for us. An apathetic voice on the other end explained to me that they’d be sending over a representative from the state of Oklahoma to assess our familial situation now that there were two minors living parentless in the home. We had less than a week to gather our bearings, then our fate would be decided by an asshole who knew nothing about us.

Before I could even process that my mom and dad were gone, I had the weight of the world dropped on my shoulders. A bitter realization that life as we knew it was about to change forever. Sodapop and Ponyboy couldn’t even mention the subject without anxiety burning through my body. 

It seemed they had a million questions that I couldn’t answer. What would happen to them? What would I do to handle the situation? Could the courts really take them out of our home? They knew there was a chance that they’d be sent off to a boys’ home for orphaned kids and we’d never see each other again. I told them that was impossible. That there was no way in Hell I’d let that happen. I couldn’t lose my entire family in the span of a few weeks. I just didn’t know how I could stop it. 

“They can’t just take us, can they, Darry?” Sodapop had asked. “Don’t we have any say?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “They’re going to do what they think is best for you two.”

“Bullshit. They don’t know what’s best for us.”

But today isn’t about that. Like everything else, I’ve trained my brain to ignore the pressing issues before us. Store them in a place where the truth can’t hurt me too badly. Today is about saying goodbye to mom and dad. 

I stare at the two dark oak caskets sitting at the front of the altar. They’re closed. The harm caused by the accident was unfathomable. I had to identify their bodies at the city morgue. It was a task that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. When I saw the damage that was inflicted to my poor parents, I got sick all over the linoleum floors. That was the first and last time I’ve broken into tears this week. 

I forbade my brothers from seeing our parents in their final state. They begged, but I couldn’t let their last memories of our mom and dad be such a gruesome sight. One that has haunted me every second of every single day since. I want Sodapop and Ponyboy’s memories of our parents to be warm, loving, and happy. Something to mend the heartbreak.

At the funeral home, my brothers asked if they could leave a few things with our parents before burying them. Ponyboy wrote two long letters, both a few pages long. He mulled over what to write for hours, sitting at the desk in his room crumpling up papers and getting frustrated with himself when he couldn’t get his thoughts out. He folded them up tightly and handed them to a man named John, who was in charge of everything. He give him strict instructions on who to give each letter to, seeming resistant to trust a stranger with what I imagined were intimate, emotional messages to our mom and dad. Sodapop handed over a photo of the three of us on Christmas last year, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and smiling, giddy with holiday spirit. He wanted mom to have it. It was her favorite picture. 

I’m torn out of my daydream when Sodapop starts walking to the front of the church. The turnout is small, with just a few of my parents’ friends peppered throughout the pews. We’ve never had a big family, which is all too apparent at a time like this. Mom was an only child, and dad only had a younger brother who died in the Korean War over a decade ago. All we had was each other. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Steve sit together a few rows behind the three of us. Dallas sits by himself in the last row in the corner of the small church, his head down low. I nod at him when I catch his eye, letting him know how grateful my mother would be knowing that he came to say his final goodbyes. 

I see Sodapop’s hands shaking as he situates himself in front of the podium. Neither mom nor dad had any funeral plans designated for us to follow, so we had to choose how to honor them. Two whole lifetimes summed up a few hours. Mom was always religious and enjoyed going to church, so I decided that she would want a formal service. Sodapop insisted that he wanted to speak. I decided I would, too. Ponyboy said that he wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t think he’d be strong enough. Though I told him that mom and dad would have liked him to share a few words in their honor, he implored me to not bring it up again.

“I don’t even know what I’d say, Dar,” Ponyboy had said quietly. “And I don’t think I could get through it without blubbering like a baby.”

I knew that Ponyboy, like me, would grieve our parents silently. These past few days, he hadn’t mentioned them at all. I saw him lose it when he saw dad’s old flannel draped over the couch the other day and again when he opened the fridge a few days ago and found a chocolate cake that mom had baked the day she died. I acted like I hadn’t noticed him rush into his room and close the door quickly, but pressed my ear to the door to make sure he was alright. I could hear him crying heavily in his room, trying to catch his breath in between sobs. But I knew that this was natural and necessary, and that I’d be less than comforting if I barged in on him. 

“Hi, everyone,” Soda says in a small, defeated voice that is so unlike his usually charismatic demeanor. His voice quivers and I can see his eyes well up with tears before he’s even begun. I want to run up there and pull him into a tight hug, but I know that he needs to do this. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt. “I’m sorry, I swore up and down that I wouldn’t cry.” 

He looks at me and Pony for reassurance and continues, pausing to gain composure. 

“My mom and dad were the best parents a kid could have. There’s nothing that my ma wouldn’t do for anyone. She always said that being our mom was her favorite thing to be. Well, being her son was my favorite thing to be. Mom and I were one and the same. It was like we had the same exact personality. We were the goofballs… the crazy ones in the crowd. She loved a good time and loved music, just like me. 

She was funny, but not in the way most moms are. She could joke with the best of us, even our friends. And she always knew how to make you feel like you were the most important person in the world. Because when you were with her, you were. She knew how to make everyone feel special and cared about. Gosh, am I going to miss that about her… She was the best. There will never be another person like my ma."

I look over at Ponyboy, whose eyes are inquisitive and burning holes in the side of my head as we listen to Soda speak. His face is swollen from crying so much, the tip of his nose red. He gives me a look that says, Why aren’t you upset? Don’t you care? But I’m petrified. Frozen. There’s that word again. My face is stoic but my heart is cracking with pain and each memory Soda recalls is deepening the weak spots. I want to be a pillar of strength for my brothers. I don’t want to fall apart in front of them.

"When I think of my dad, I think of someone who wanted the best for us. The day of the accident, he was celebrating a promotion at work, which he worked hard to get. But he loved to goof off like mom, too. He loved to play football in the front yard with all of us. Nobody could hike a football like him, no matter that he was twice our age. And he loved sweets, like me. I would always sneak into the kitchen at midnight to grab a piece of whatever mom had baked that day, and dad would have already beaten me there. And, usually, had a plate out for me already. I used to love talking with him in the middle of the night, just dad and me. 

Nobody worked harder than dad, either. He worked his whole life to make sure we never wanted for anything. He never wanted us to go without. I know now that that’s what makes a good man. I wish he could’ve lived to see it all pay off. And I wish I had gotten the chance to tell him that. I don’t know how we’re going to survive without them. I love them both. So much. And I hope they rest in peace. Thank you.”

He wipes his eyes again and makes his way back to our pew. When he sits, I squeeze his shoulder and wrap my arm around him. I feel his body tremble with tears and rub his back until he calms down. 

The priest ushers me to come up and speak, and I hesitantly stand, adjusting my suit jacket. Making my way up to the podium, I look out to the forlorn faces in the crowd. I look at Sodapop and Ponyboy, whose faces are contorted with sadness. I swallow the dry lump in my throat.

“Thank you all for coming,” I say bleakly. “My mother and father would appreciate you all being here to support us and remember them today.” 

I reach into my pocket and pull out a worn piece of paper that I’ve been hanging onto the past few days. I’ve been scribbling notes here and there about what I wanted to speak about. No matter what I would write, it never seemed sufficient to describe the enormity of what my parents meant to the three of us. I didn’t know where to begin. 

“As you all know, we lost my parents over a week ago unexpectedly. There was no time for my brothers and I to say goodbye or tell them how much we loved them. We never got the chance to thank them for everything they’ve ever done for us or tell them how hard it would be to live the rest of our lives without them…” I trail off, feeling the sadness creep in. 

I want to keep it formal. Just say the typical things everyone says when someone dies and get back to my seat as soon as possible. But I want Ponyboy and Sodapop to know that I’m hurting, too. And I want to honor my parents the best I can. So I continue.

“My mom always used to say to us, ‘If we always have each other, we having nothing to lose’… I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately,” I say. “Because now we’re separated. We’ve lost the two people we love most in the world. And I don’t really know how we’re going to go on. But then I’m reminded of so many things about our mom and dad and what they taught us. How to love each other and to stick together, no matter what. How to make a lot out of a little and to be grateful for what you do have rather than focus on what you don’t. And even if they’re gone now, I believe they’re looking down on us, right by our side like they’ve always been. So, really, we’re still all together. It just may look a little different now.” I look at my brothers again, who have small smiles on their faces.

“My mom was the nicest woman you would ever meet. She loved anybody who walked through our front door, no exceptions. She’s the reason why we have friends who became family,” I say, nodding to the gang in the pews. “And dad was the perfect example of a role model. He raised us to be strong, humble, and hard-working. He pushed us hard but loved us well. I’ll miss them both incredibly. We all will.”

I look at the two caskets below me and acknowledge that my parents are in them. A few feet away from me, but it feels like thousands of miles. I’m overcome with grief and I can’t stand it. I almost lose my composure when I feel the tears fill my eyes.

“That’s all I have...” I say. “Thank you all for coming.” I rush off the stage as the tears start coming. Ponyboy and Sodapop stand up from the pew and rush over to me as I make my way back to the pew, joining together for a hug. They push their faces into my chest and I put my face on the top of their heads, letting the tears fall. 

I wish more than anything that we weren’t here right now. That life had some other plan for us. But, then, I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Everyone shuffles out of their pews and out of the church at the announcement of the priest, congregating by the front door. I don’t know how long we stand there hugging, weeping quietly on each other. 

We pull away and look at each other, then chuckle a bit at how distraught we all look. 

“I love you guys,” I say to them, sniffling. “We’ll be okay.... we’ll be okay.”

-

I love you all and your support of my writing lifts me up so much, you couldn’t even imagine. Thank you for enjoying my writing the way you do 🥺

#the outsiders #my writing #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #curtis brothers #ponyboy #sodapop #ponyboy sodapop #steve randle #two bit mathews #two bit matthews #dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders imagines

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 2//

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10)

Maybe I was sick.

As a high fae, I had never actually been sick before. In fact, I hadn’t been sick since before that fateful day in the woods; when I shot an arrow and killed Andras in his beast form. I cringed, my stomach churning at the reminder of Tamlin and his court. The memories of my past human life, of my life at the Spring Court, were only going to make me feel worse just as I was beginning to feel better. A few days had passed since I jolted awake and puked my guts up in the middle of the night. At first, I thought it was a one-off. A recurring nightmare that reared its ugly head, and my negative reaction to it. However, the next day my nausea spell returned with a vengeance in the middle of a painting lesson at my studio in the Rainbow. I barely had enough time to excuse myself and leave Ressina in charge before winnowing back into my bathing room at the estate before hugging the toilet again for the rest of the hour. By that evening, I had miraculously been able to eat a light dinner, but after a fitful couple hours of sleep that was plagued by another nightmare, I was in the bathing room once again.

I managed to hide my illness from the others that day, but I knew Mor was suspicious the next when I showed up to breakfast and only nibbled on a piece of bread with butter. She was the first to theorize I had the flu, and both Elain and Nesta prompted the question on whether fae could actually get sick. Elain was more curious than Nesta, who simply snorted a remark about how she thought fae were too powerful for common viruses. While it was meant to be more of a snarky comment than an actual question, I couldn’t blame her for it. After learning about how terrorizing a female's cycle was during my first year after being Made, I had also been curious regarding what other ailments fae experienced.

Such powerful immortal beings, like myself, aren’t so vulnerable to the common cold like humans are Feyre darling, Rhys had remarked with an amused grin when I asked him about it. But there are times we do fall prey to it on occasion. Although, it's more like a nasty, lingering flu since our symptoms are more severe than humans.

It made sense; as immortal beings with magical abilities, we wouldn’t experience the same ailments our human counterparts would. When we did, it would be more enhanced; just like a female's cycle was more exaggerated than a humans. I supposed as a more powerful and stronger being than a human, dramatic ailments were the trade-off. The more I thought about it, I figured Mor had probably been right, because as the next day and a half passed, my nausea spells lingered along with some body-aches and fatigue. I also noted a strange and faint glimmer in the pit of my stomach. It had been there for the last couple of days, and it felt strangely instinctual--intuitive, rather than a symptom of my illness. I thought of it even now, as I sat in the library with Mor and Elain; finalizing details for the party we were throwing on Starfall in a couple of weeks.

For the most part, my symptoms had subsided today. The nausea still lingered through most of the morning, but now as lunch was approaching, I was confident I would be able to eat and keep a meal down. The nightmares had stopped as well, and I was finally able to get a full-night's rest. After the night they began, I made sure to keep my wall of adamant up for Rhys. My stupid illness was the least of his worries while he was in the Illyrian mountains, and the least of mine as well.

 “Feyre, what do you think?” Elain asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turned to her, “About what? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening,” I admitted, reminding myself that now wasn’t the time to be drifting away in thought.

Mor giggled, amused. “I told you she wasn’t listening to anything we were just talking about. She’s too busy daydreaming and worrying about things she shouldn’t be worrying about.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well excuse me, Mor, but as High Lady I think I do have plenty to worry about,” I argued, but she merely waved it away.

“Leave the Illyrian camps to Rhys. He, Cassian, and Az can handle whatever situation might be brewing,” she reasoned.

I tried not to notice the way Elain’s face seemed to redden at the mention of the shadowsinger. While it was no secret that she and Azriel spent more time together since moving into the estate, I knew Elain still tried to avoid any conflict with Mor; despite the secret Mor still hadn’t revealed in the last decade. She had centuries at hiding her closeted feelings, and just as I had promised her during the war, I wasn’t about to reveal a thing. Despite wanting to ease Elain’s nerves in regards to the Cassian-Mor-Azriel situation, I knew it wasn’t my place. We had plenty of time to see things worked out as they should.

Nesta, on the other hand, had little regard for their delicate circumstance. On the rare occasion that she would join us for dinner, she frequently bit out any remark she could when she noticed any connection between Azriel and Elain. In the last decade, her hard edge did not soften a bit. Some years ago, I realized that would probably never change, and although she seemed in a better place now than she previously had been after the war, I was glad to know she was at least slowly allowing us back into her life. Things had been tense after I banished her from Velaris at the beginning of the decade, but after her period at Cassian’s cabin in the Illyrian mountains, I saw a flicker of hope on the horizon. She returned with Cassian after a year, and while I had been expecting nothing but contempt in those grey-blue eyes we shared, instead there was...an understanding. Our reunion was uneventful, but at least tensions were beginning to ease.

After learning Elain and I were working on the estate, she outright refused to have a room, but Elain insisted we include one anyway. She somehow managed to figure out a way to connect their quarters together, so at least when Nesta deigned to visit her, she would see she had a place of refuge from the rest of us. Amren and Elain were still the only ones she allowed closest to her; though from time to time I could hear her and Cassian with their usual verbal sparring matches in the library. She never discussed what happened in that cabin, at least not with me. I had an inkling she discussed it with Amren, but after her return I thought it best not to ask any questions. I was happy with our current standing, because at least she was here now and the rest could wait.

“I guess you’re right,” I amended, trying not to dwell on the Illyrian mountains and the tension Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel had to face in the camps.

“I’m sure they’re alright,” Elain added, “I’ve heard Cassian and Azriel talk about the Blood Rite. I bet they’re enjoying the final ceremonies right now.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I nodded in agreement, noting how quickly she threw in Cassian’s name before Azriel’s.

“And they’ll be home in a couple of days, which means we have to finish up this work now before Rhys gets back and holes you up in that suite of yours for Cauldron knows how long” Mor shot me a knowing grin as she rolled her eyes in mock disgust.

Elain’s face flushed again, but I merely shrugged, “I can’t help it if my mate finds me irresistible.”

“Does he know you’ve been sick?”

I sneered, turning to the paperwork laid out in front of me, “Let’s get back to party planning, shall we?”

Mor grinned again, knowing she had made it under my skin but said nothing else about it as we spent the rest of the afternoon finalizing our plans. Since moving into the estate seven years ago, we moved our Starfall celebrations from the House of Wind here. Elain had been the one to suggest we hold a grand party for all of Velaris; knowing full well our expanse of land allowed for such an occasion. I had been so happy to see that she was finally starting to return to her old self; to see just a bit of the person she was before she was Made, that I couldn’t argue. Even Rhys and the rest of the inner circle approved of the idea, and it became an annual tradition for us.

To my relief, I was able to eat lunch and an early dinner without experiencing any more nausea. After my meeting with Mor and Elain, Mor whisked her away for a shopping trip at the Palace of Thread and Jewels. I opted out, happy to wear my traditional Starfall gown Rhys’s mother created for me. Well over a decade later, and I never tired of wearing the same gown every year; it bore too much sentimental value to wear anything else. After the first couple of years, I tried playing with the look by adding different pieces of jewelry, but after trying and failing at several attempts to match a jewelry set with the gown, I now let Nuala and Cerridwen style it to their heart's content. They were better at dressing me anyway.

I sighed, eyes drifting from the paperwork on my desk to my office around me. The wall of windows to my right allowed the natural light in; accenting my off-white furniture and the pale lilac rug in the center of the room. After the nightmares of darkness and closed-in walls, I wanted nothing but open air and light. I wanted our estate to allow us to view the city at night as it was intended; bright and colorful lights in the distance as well as mirroring off the river. I wanted to allow the elements and natural cycle of the day to reflect inside and for everything to simply breathe comfort and home. After everything we had been through, we all deserved this bit of peace--and the estate served as that peace. I smiled to myself as I reminisced over the furniture pieces Rhys and I mulled over; after noticing the off-white color scheme I was planning, his argument had been that since this was the Night Court after all, we should-

I bolted upright in my seat; startled by the sudden flicker in my abdomen that ripped me from my thoughts; that same instinctual flicker I noticed a few days ago. I paused as it fluttered for a few seconds, like a miniscule heartbeat pulsing through my core. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it vanished. I remained unmoving, scared that the nausea would return along with it. When I felt nothing, I slowly reclined in my seat, loosing the breath I held throughout the ordeal. I had been feeling that flutter for days and related it to my symptoms; now that I was on the mend, I expected that to have gone away as well. It was such a strange and foreign sensation. It wasn't outright physical, more like a gut feeling personified. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact way to describe it, the only thing I could relate it to was the bond Rhysand and I shared.

Perhaps it was the bond letting him know I was sick, because not even a second later I felt Rhys run a delicate finger along my shields. I willed my heart to slow before lowering them just enough to allow us to communicate.

I felt that, you know

Felt what? Innocent. Just play dumb.

He wasn’t falling for it. Felt whatever it was that just rattled inside of you. Did you have another nightmare?

I was silent for a minute. He didn’t know what it was either; probably assuming it had something to do with the other night. No, I wasn’t asleep.

Have you been sleeping?

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide the last few days from him forever. On and off, I’ve had a few nightmares here and there.

I could feel his dark shadows roiling and gathering from here; concern immediately taking over my mate. Do you need me to come home?

My heart fluttered at the thought, knowing deep down I did want him here. It didn’t matter how long we were apart, a few hours, days, weeks; I would always want my mate at my side, but the rational part of me knew we had our obligations to attend to. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t like that period of weeks I had infiltrated the Spring Court before the war with Hybern.

No. You’ll be home in a couple of days. I’m fine now, I had a couple of bad nights but last night was actually good. No nightmares, and no puking. Not a total lie, but I felt like I could omit the suspected illness I had been experiencing. For now. 

Those dark shadows lingered, as if trying to create a protective and calm aura around me. It was rare that Rhys had felt so possessive, and I knew it was an innate male-bonded reaction more than anything. Still, I felt his reluctance before he said anything else.

After this week is over, it's going to be a long time before I leave your side again

I smiled, part of me still finding it amusing when his feral male-bonded instincts took over. He still cringed and apologized whenever his overprotective behavior became too much and leaked out, but I knew it came from those primitive, feral ways of our ancestors. 

I wouldn’t complain. 

His shadows began to dissipate as he chuckled. The sound immediately filled me with want for him and I had to sigh deeply to quell it. I miss you.

I know

I could feel his smug grin as I sent him an image of my vulgar gesture. Prick

Always. I could almost see that grin on his handsome face as I moved from my seat behind my desk to an armchair on my attached balcony.

I’ll be back before you know it, my love, and we can resume our nightly attempts. Maybe this time apart is what we needed.

I looked out towards the city from my seat on the balcony, willing my heart not to ache at what he implied. The sun was setting on the horizon; its amber glow bathing me in its warmth as the image of my would-be son plagued my thoughts. I thought of the way those bright blue eyes sparkled, so like Rhys’s always did when the light caught them at a certain angle. He would be so beautiful.

Yes, he will be

I smiled, and closed my eyes as I leaned my head back. Just come back to me and we’ll see if we can actually make that happen 

Oh, I have every intention of making sure that we do

I had to bite my bottom lip in an attempt to once again repress my desire. I pictured his suggestive grin, throwing my shields up once again in response and as a goodbye.

That night, I dreamt of those bright near-violet eyes as I had pictured earlier. Only this time, they belonged to a young Illyrian male that greatly resembled the High Lord of the Night Court as said High Lord led him through the camps he would one day train in.

(tags: @df3ndyr @judexcardanxgreenbriar @emikadreams )

#feysand #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #feyre darling #high lady feyre #high lady of the night court #rhysand #high lord rhysand #high lord of the night court #illyrian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #sjm fandom #feysand babies #velaris #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of war and ruin #a court of dreams #a court of nightmares

[mhdiaries]

Freaky Fusion Hybrids Sirena Von Boo Diary

6.4

I filled out my Monster High application today (*gulp*). I’m trying not to get my hopes up – I mean, why would they accept me? What makes me so special? My only hope is that my unusual scaritage will help me stand out (it usually does – just not in a good way!). What other monster do you know who can say her parents met at the bottom of the ocean? You see, my mom was a huge bass-ketball (it’s kind like underwater casketball) star back in the day. She could dive deeper and faster than anyone else, which is really important when you need to retrieve the ball. One day during practice, she dived down farther than she’d ever been before, and she found this amazing old shipwreck… and who should be frightseeing around that wreck than the most drop-dead gorgeous ghost she’d ever seen. To hear my mom tell it, the ship wasn’t the only thing that was wrecked – so was her heart (*gag*). That drop-dead gorgeous ghost (otherwise known as Dad) couldn’t believe he finally found someone who matched his spirit. Who cared that she was a mermaid and couldn’t swim through things? He fell so hard in love that he never went back to the ghost world again. Fast forward about 20 years, and here we are today.

I got my love of anshrieking – you know, finding ordinary items from the past that have survived long enough to they’re now special, from my Dad. We can spend hours in them, mulling over faboolous finds and imagining their history. Next to the ocean, anshriek stores are my favorite place to drift off in. Even though Dad can get on my nerves sometimes (he has a tendency to hover), he’s usually pretty great company.

As for mom… sometimes I’m not so sure I belong to her! We get along fine and all, but if it wasn’t for our matching tails, I might wonder. My mom still operates at tur-boo speed, whether she’s planning cruises (her job) or shopping with sand dollars (her hobby). Me, on the other hand… well, I just like to coast along and take things as they come and lose myself in my imagination. Mom and I spend a lot of time swimming together, though, and she thinks I’m fast enough to swim competitively if I wanted to. Maybe, if I’m ever at the same high school long enough, I’ll try out for the team.

6.12

Head in the clouds, tail in the water: that’s pretty much how I feel most days. Half in, half out. Today I had to stop at the ghostery store for my dad, and this little vampire was all like, “Mommy, is that a ghoul, a ghost or a mermaid?!” (*cringe*) Poor little chomper looked totally confused.

Sometimes I think if I was just one thing I wouldn’t feel so divided all the time. But which would I choose??? I daydream about that a lot (mainly because I’d love to rock a pair of boo-jeans, and that’s really hard to do with a tail). But honestly, what would I do if I could only be on the land OR in the sea? It would be so boring to be chained to just one of them – like watching barnacles grow boring.

The only people who really get how I feel are by best friends Avea, Neighthan and Bonita. You would think we’d have nothing common, all being such different types of hybrid monsters, but they get what it’s like to be two things at once. I’m so glad they applied to Monster High, too. We made a pact that if one of us doesn’t get in, NONE of us are going. Fins crossed we all get the same news, one way or another.

6.29

One of the freaky coolest things about the summer is treasure hunting in the sea. I pretty much treasure hunt year-round, but the water is so much warmer in the summer, and I’ll take any oppor-tuna-ty I can to lurk around collecting. One of my favorite treasures to collect is pearls (diamonds are SO out with the tide, you know). I like to turn them into charms or weave them around my chains for extra-special occasions. I also string them up around my room so I can lay on my waterbed and listen to them softly chiming in the breeze (and when your dad is a ghost, there is ALWAYS a breeze). One of the great side effects of treasure hunting is I get totally lost in my thoughts down there – watching the sun sparkle through the water, wrapping myself up in the warm silence… just me, the water, and some otherworldly sea creatures. Today I woke up really worried that I hadn’t heard back from Monster High yet. I think I know what this means (and I’m not surprised), but all my worries were gone once I was a few fathoms below water. I saw this adorable family of sea horses, and I started thinking about how cool it would be to have a seahorse of my own… or maybe a whole litter of them, so they could pull me out to the sandbar… is “litter” the right word for a group of seahorses? Why are they called seahorses, anyway? They don’t neigh… hey, do sea horses make any sound at all?! (*head spinning*)

7.2

I was checking my email today at the Coffin Bean, and I suddenly realized I was the only monster there without a pet! My dad tends to creep out most animals, and my mom can’t stand the smell of wet fur, so they just refuse to let me have a pet. Sometimes my parents are so shellfish – don’t they understand how much this means to me?! The first thing I’m going to do when I graduate from high school is get a pet (well, after I find my own place, since I’d be in deep water if I brought one home!).

I spend a lot of time daydreaming about what kind of pet I’m going to get. One day I’m convinced an electric eel is the pet for me (we’d certainly light up the night together!)… and the next day all I can think about is getting a starfish (how cute would a periwinkle starfish look in my hair?! *squeee*) in fact, deciding which one to get might be the most stressful part about having a pet. I guess the only answer will be to get more than one!

7.10

I was on my way to meet Avea, Bonita and Neightan for a move (in sea-D!) this afternoon, when I decided to stop off at the catacombs to cool off from the blazing sun. the catacombs are the perfect summer hideaway. I can let myself – and my thoughts – wander without much chance of interruption. Today, however, I had a surprise. I ran through a ghost named Spectra! AND Spectra had a pet – a ferret named Rhuen! Spectra is a student at Monster High, and she writes a column for the school paper. She’s also a ghost, which automatically gave us something in common. I’m not entirely sure we’d be ghostly good friends – she asked a TON of questions – but it was scary cool to say I now know somebody who actually goes to Monster High (not that I’m getting in or anything). We talked about meeting up again, when all of a sudden, I noticed my shell phone flashing. I totally missed calls from Avea and Bonita – and, as it turns out, I missed the movie as well! It all ended up working out, though. I found everyone at the die-ner after the movie, and I had a gill-licious ice scream shake and fries. That’s what I love about my friends. They don’t take my drifting off personally.

8.1

Did this really just happen, or is this another one of my daydreams?! It started out like any other day… I was in the kitchen warming up a bowl of float-meal when my dad rattled over with mom and asked f we’d gotten anything interesting in the mail. Right away I knew something was up – I mean, you can see right through him. Dad handed me a letter, and before I even had a chance to read the first line, shrieked “Honey, you’ve been accepted to Monster High!” I rolled my eyes like, “Whatever”, but then I flew back to my bedroom and re-read the letter about fifty times. It was true… I would be starting Monster High in less than a month! I’ve been drifting around from school to school for so long. Maybe, this is just one more place to unfit in, but at the same time… maybe, it’s a chance to really make a splash.

I guess the worst thing that can happen is that Monster High will be like every other school I’ve tried… I’ll go there, hate it, then drift off to another school next year. And I guess the best thing that can happen is that I’ll love it. Avea, Bonita and Neighthan all got in, so I’ll get to see them every day. Maybe I’ll make some more clawsome friends, learn some deadly cool new things, and even try out for the swim team. Then again… I don’t want to make a specter out of myself on the first day. As my dad is fond of saying, what ghost up must come down. Maybe the reverse is true. If I keep my expectations down, then they can only go up from there!

Just take a deep breath and dip your toe in, Von Boo. You can do it!

#monster high #monster high diary #freaky fusion #sirena von boo

[fantasydaydreamers]

"Spiderverse Pt. 2" Spiderman Au! Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Continuation of PART 1

Word Count: 3,061

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Nothing like a lil bromance. Also...HAPPY SEASON 4 BABBBBYYYY!!!!!

The next morning, Bakugou woke up before his alarm with a smile on his face, the memories from last night still lingering in his head. The adrenaline he felt coming home took a while to fade, but even then he had trouble falling asleep. Plus the overall reality of his night kept replaying in his head like a broken record player, making it hard for him to unwind. When he finally fell asleep, it was brief, but restful, which was why he was up so early now.

He blinked the blurriness away from his eyes and laid in bed for a minute immediately thinking back to the secret kiss shared in the alley, his lips tingling with the thought. The small gasp you made when his tongue entered your mouth accompanied by the loose strands of your hair blowing in the wind tickling his face, he was shocked it wasn't a dream. Not only that, but the robbery he had stopped at the cafe, thankfully saving everyone from danger, made him feel complete.

Bakugou yawned as he stretched, cracking his joints, before flinging himself out of bed. Opening his blinds to the waking streets of Toyko, the sunlight poured in his room, golden streaks of light being created by the blinds in the way. Making his way over to the stereo he had in his room, he put on some of his favorite rock music as he got ready. Today is going to be a good ass day. He flung open his closet and began to dig through his clothes, throwing the items on the ground.

He paused, holding a random shirt in his hand. Wait...why do I care? It's just another day at this dumbass school. It wasn't like (Y/n) would know it was me, anyway. Rubbing the cotton between his fingers, he mulled over his thoughts briefly. Fuck it. I can have a good day once in a while. He threw on his favorite t-shirt and jeans before grabbing his backpack to head downstairs. Reaching the bottom, Bakugou waltzed into the kitchen.

"You're up early." Aunt May eyed him cautiously, looking up from the paper she was reading while sipping a cup of coffee at the dining table. Bakugou's signature scowl returned as he shrugged his shoulders, grabbing one of the pieces of toast on her plate. "Hey, brat! At least ask if you can have one!" Aunt May rolled up the newspaper and smacked him on the head. "Watch it!" Bakugou retorts, moving away from her reach.

"You look like you're in a good mood today." Aunt May changes the topic as she reaches over for the remote, switching on the TV. Ignoring her, Bakugou takes a bite of the toast.

"Breaking news this morning, a cafe robbery happened in the heart of downtown Tokyo late last night. When authorities arrived on the scene, the robbers were stuck to the ground by some sort of webbing. Witnesses say that a person by the name of 'Spiderman' had taken care of the situation, saving everyone inside."

Bakugou slowed his chewing and swallowed, his attention focusing on the TV. The camera cuts to a clip of a witness at the scene last night being interviewed with a blanket wrapped around them. "He came through the window that was already broken by the robbers and fought them off, making sure they didn't hurt us. It all happened so quickly, I'm just glad he was able to come to the rescue."

The camera then cuts to a little boy sitting next to his mother with tear-stained cheeks wrapped up in a blanket. "Hwe-hic-was so cool. Thank you, Spiderman."

Bakugou's chest swells at the words being said about him as he tunes out the rest of the reporter's details of the aftermath. "Recently, it seems like the crime in the city has increased lately. You better start coming home earlier, Bakugou. I don't want you getting caught up in these situations." Aunt May's eyes cut to him sharply her words holding a warning. "Do you understand me?"

He knew why she was paranoid, but he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. For all he knew, the spider bite could've been poisonous and he could've died. This way, he felt as if he had a second chance at life; turning it into something positive. "Yeah." He nods his head once, looking at her briefly and grips his backpack tighter. I'm sorry Aunt May. I need too. I want too.

Aunt May was still glancing over at Bakugou while finishing her coffee. Awkwardly, Bakugou checks the clock on the wall thankfully finding an excuse to leave. "Well...I'm off to school." Backing out of the room, Bakugou walks to the front door to put his shoes on.

"It's still kind of early..." Aunt May's voice trails after him suspiciously. "Kirishima asked me to meet him early and help with the homework we had last night," he calls back, the lie flowing smoothly through Bakugou's teeth as he finishes lacing his shoes. "Be safe." Aunt May's stern yet worried tone was now heard clearly.

Bakugou stood with his hand on the door, silently thinking over his response. After the events that happened in the past, it didn't just affect him. Not only the spider bite but everything that occurred before that, leaving permanent damage on the two of them making them both lose important people in their lives. He didn't want her to worry about him when she has already done so much for him.

His secret was something he was determined to not let Aunt May know. 

"I promise."

~*~*~*~*

Arriving at school, he was relieved not many people had shown up yet. Bakugou yawned feeling the exhaustion catch up to him. Where did all my energy from this morning go? He walks slowly through the courtyard, the crisp dewy grass crunching under his feet. Another yawn threatened to escape his mouth but he suppressed it, his eyes tearing up. Maybe I should've had some coffee to help myself wake up.

Since the doors weren't opened yet, the few who were already present were scattered around the front of the school, sitting on benches or the staircase, idly chatting together or waiting for their friends to show up. Bakugou hopped up on the ledge surrounding the statue of the school's founder in the center of the courtyard just at the end of the stairs. He leaned his head back and squinted his eyes, looking up at the sun still rising above the school. A sudden chilled autumn breeze ran through the courtyard making Bakugou close his eyes.

In that moment, he was once again teleported back to last night. The feeling of the wind brushing your hair against his cheek just as the kiss was deepening, your hand on the side of his face holding him still-

"Morning, Bakugou!" Bakugou was jolted out of his daydream, his eyes snapping open as he whipped his head to the side seeing Kirishima walking around the statue towards him. He scowled and glared at the red-headed boy who was way too cheerful for this time of day. "You're here early," Kirishima observes cautiously as he comes to a stop in front of Bakugou. His brows were furrowed looking up at his friend until an excited grin crossed his features. "Oh! Dude! You were on TV-"

"Shut up!" Bakugou hissed, throwing a hand over Kirishima's mouth before his voice could echo to everyone else. Kirishima didn't seem to mind as he stared back at Bakugou in awe. Slowly, Bakugou removed his hand and gave Kirishima a pointed look. "I know," he murmured, his hand landing behind his head feeling embarrassed.

"You looked so manly, dude! Tell me the whole story. Did you really knock a guy out? What's with the 'itsy-bitsy spider' thing? Hey, do you think (Y/n) saw?!" Kirishima bounced on the balls of his feet as he hounded Bakugou with questions. (Y/n). Remembering that he needed to tell Kirishima just how 'impressed' she was, Bakugou suddenly smirked which made Kirishima stop and stare. "Don't do that dude. It's creepy."

Bakugou scowled again and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you want me to tell you what happened or not, Shitty Hair?" Kirishima nodded enthusiastically and made the 'zipping' motion over his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou went into a brief--but badass--detail of the encounter, rushing to get to what he considered the 'good part.' "So! Here's where it gets good...(Y/n) was the one standing with the brick in her hand."

Kirishima let out a serious, but dramatic, gasp and threw his hand over his mouth. Up until that point, he was fully engrossed in the story, hanging on to Bakugou's every word. "No, she wasn't!"

"Dude! I'm fucking serious!" Bakugou would never admit it, but he felt giddy talking about his experience with Kirishima. He was someone who actually gave a damn about what Bakugou does and even offered to help in some cases in which Bakugou would scoff and turn away, not knowing how to react. He had told him, 'maybe one day,' and Kirishima forced him to pinky promise, pissing Bakugou off in the process.

"I grabbed her hand and took off down the street pulling her into an alley-"

As the story got more unexpected, Kirishima kept interrupting. "You were ALONE with her?!" He exclaimed his hands flying up to grip Bakugou's shoulders. "Please tell me you didn't mess up. You didn't tell her, did you? Is she going to keep the secret too? Wait...I thought this was bro-code-"

Bakugou shoved Kirishima's hands off, anxious to finish the story since more people were starting to show up. "Bro-co-? Let me finish! No, she doesn't know!" As the courtyard was filling up with people, the chatter became louder and school busses were arriving from the outskirts of Tokyo to drop students off. 

You were walking up to the school, gripping the strap to your bag, trying to shake yourself from drowsiness. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Bakugou grinning while talking to Kirishima in a hushed voice. "(Y/n)!" You hear your friends call out to you from the staircase as they wave you over. Smiling back, you motion to them you'll be over there in a minute and walk toward the two boys.

"You kissed-?!" Bakugou's hand flew over Kirishima's mouth again when he absently saw you approaching from his peripheral. This sixth sense thing can be fucking useful when it wants to be. Seeing the movement, you stop next to Kirishima and grin at them. "What are you two boys gossiping about?"

Bakugou gaped at you, not knowing what to say. Kirishima also looked shocked by your sudden appearance and glanced at Bakugou, only to see his dumbfounded expression. Noticing his panic, Kirishima gave you a wide-tooth grin. "He-hey, (Y/n)! Good morning!"

You smiled back at Kirishima warmly, his personality contagious. "Morning! Did I hear that someone kissed someone else?" Excided, you shoot Bakugou a glance, your hands coming up to cup your ear. "Tell me the tea! I want to know!"

Bakugou's eyes widened as he felt an embarrassed flush radiate off his skin. "Uh-" Kirishima stepped in front of Bakugou defensively. "He kissed me! The other night-uh-it was an accident though. Like one of those slip and fall situations, you know?"

You stare at Kirishima speechless. Suddenly, Bakugou's fist comes flying down on Kirishima's head. "He's lying. Right, Kirishima? Tell her you're lying. Now." If you squinted, you were sure you could see steam coming from Bakugou's ears as he grit out his words menacingly. Kirishima winced as the fist dug harder into his skull, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah-pfft-I'm lying. I can't tell you. Bro-code, (Y/n)." The answer does little to nothing in seizing Bakugou's fumes as his other hand comes to pull at Kirishima's hair. "You dumbass! What the fuck did you just do?!" Shock by the excuse and watching the two boys bicker in front of you, laughter bubbles up in your throat escaping leaves your lips, the sound making the boys stop.

"Is this one of those no-homo jokes? You teenage boys think you're so funny, huh? It's too bad you won't tell me what really happened then..." You begin to walk away from them, Bakugou hanging on to your every word, hoping Kirishima didn't fuck everything up. Halfway to your friends who were waiting on you, you turn around with a sly smile on your face and put your finger to your lips.

"I kissed someone too."

With that, the two boys watch you turn back around and jog over to your friends excitedly. Bakugou's grip had loosened on Kirishima and he took that opportunity to escape and fix his hair, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "Wow. You really did it, didn't you?" Kirishima let out a low whistle watching Bakugou stare after you longingly, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Hello? Dude...please tell me you weren't acting that slow last night when you were talking with her. You didn't even say a word to her just now, so how in the world did you kiss her?" Fixing his hair, Kirishima pulled out his phone to check his reflection, making sure he looked presentable.

The comment made Bakugou snap out of his trance as he pushed himself off the ledge, stretching once he stood up straight. "Shut up, Shitty Hair." He paused in his stretching when he realized he really didn't say anything to you. "I guess it was easier to talk to her because I knew she wouldn't know who it really was under the mask, you know?"

Kirishima put his phone away and looked at Bakugou confused. "Is that supposed to be a tongue twister? Well, I guess you did some tongue twisters last night too-OUCH!"

Bakugou gripped Kirishima's hair again, pushing and pulling his head around as he tried to stutter out a response. All that managed to leave his mouth were curses and insults as Kirishima laughed and complained about his hair. "Also, Shitty Hair, what the fuck were you thinking when you made that comment earlier?! Are you trying to fuck this up for me?! Do you need to tell me something?"

Now Kirishima was the one being asked the questions as he chuckled and shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Seeing you panic made me panic a little so I had to think fast. Besides, you heard (Y/n), we're just two teenage boys," Kirishima stopped the movement of his head and put his hand on Bakugou's shoulders staring at him in the eyes, "no homo, bro."

That's it. "Don't touch me! I'll fucking web you to the front of the school in your sleep." Bakugou threated, shoving Kirishima's hands off of him. It pissed him off that Kirishima knew just how to get under Bakugou's skin. Especially when it came to (Y/n).

Kirishima held up his hands in defense, smirking. "I'm messing with you, Bakubro! Besides, I sleep in my boxers. I don't think that'll help your case." He said thoughtfully, once again fixing his hair.

Bakugou leaned in and smirked. "Actually, it just might help. How embarrassing would it be to wake up to the whole school laughing at you?" Kirishima gulped and backed away as Bakugou followed him threateningly. 

"Okay fine, you win! I'm sorry I said that and I won't do it again!" Kirishima was the first one to break, making Bakugou laugh in victory. They often pushed each other around just to see who could break the act. Bakugou was just upset that Kirishima decided to play the game around (Y/n). The school bell finally rang and Kirishima sighed in relief walking next to his friend to the staircase. "I guess you can say I'm saved by the bell."

"I hate you."

~*~*~*~*

A while later, Bakugou and Kirishima met up again because they both had P.E. together. You also happened to be in this class, although you spent most of the time sitting on the bleachers talking to your friends. Bakugou was currently doing sit-ups as Kirishima held his legs, ranting on about a pop-quiz he had first-period.

Sudden gasps sounded from the bleachers, making the boys turn their attention to the girls. "Shhh!" You giggled trying to hush the girls, noticing all the boys looking. "Yes! I swear!" Some boys turn their attention away, but Bakugou and Kirishima were closest to the group, having perfect hearing.

"It felt so surreal. I couldn't fall asleep last night because I kept thinking about him. He was so funny and sweet...giving him a kiss was the only thing I could think of to say thank you because I wasn't sure if I would see him again. He's my hero." You sigh dreamily and Bakugou curses that he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying before. However, a small blush crossed his cheeks as him and Kirishima switched places. Her hero...

The group erupted in questions as your eyes met Bakugou's. You offered him a little smile looking embarrassed from all the attention and Bakugou nodded his head, turning away. She caught me staring. Fuck.

Suddenly the school's announcement speakers sounded as a panicked voice spoke out. "Attention all students, faculty, and staff: we need to evacuate the school as there has been an emergency broadcast that some vortex had opened up above the city. There are calls being sent out to Stark Towers-"

No sooner than hearing the news, student screams were heard throughout the building as everyone hurriedly ran out the doors, pushing and shoving each other along the way. Kirishima and Bakugou grabbed their bags and ran out the gym doors, stopping on the football field staring up at the darkened sky. The black and purple vortex was visibly where they were and Bakugou could faintly see lightning surrounding the edge of it.

As he looked up at the sky in disbelief as his fingers itched to go help take care of the situation, feeling the hairs on his arms and neck stand up. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out while still deciding if he should ditch the evacuation and see what's going on. He looked down and smirked, seeing the message. Of course, old man.

Mr. Stark: Come on, kid. We need you.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #mha imagines #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine

[song-fox]

"You're A Dork."

.

Roman's P.O.V.

This is it, I thought gleefully to myself. I'm finally gonna know my soulmate's first words to me!

Well, at least for after I get my soulmark.

I closed my eyes excitedly as everyone began the countdown to midnight. It was my sixteenth birthday, and it was tradition for everyone to stay up until 12 o'clock for when the words appeared on the person's wrist. After years of daydreaming and wondering, I was finally about to find out what they would say to me. But even still, I had so many questions. What would he look like? How would he act? Would I already know him, or would it be a complete stranger? Would he like Disney as much as me? Would he even be a he? I desperately hoped so, otherwise all those years of denial and coming out would have been pretty useless.

"Three..."

I took in a couple of breaths, balancing on the balls of my feet.

"Two..."

I tugged at my sleeve. What would my wrist say?

"One...!"

I immediately opened my eyes and pulled down the sleeve of my red hoodie, revealing the black letters that stood out against my pale skin. My eyes scanned over them frantically.

You're a dork.

I almost laughed out loud at that. It certainly wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't exactly an unpleasant surprise, either.

"Ooh! What'd you get?" Patton asked, bouncing around and looking just as excited as I was, if not more. Right. He couldn't see the writing on my arm. No one could. Soulmates are supposed to be personal and should be your own choice to pursue them, so nobody can ever see the writing on someone's wrist.

Unlike me, Patton had already found his soulmate, on the same day as his birthday, in fact. Of course it had been Logan, our mutual friend who seemed to have been dropping incredibly obvious hints that he was crushing on the boy, at least by Logan's standards.

I grinned at them both. "It says You're a dork."

Logan snorted. "Fitting," he remarked, earning an elbow from me.

Patton, however, seemed ecstatic. "Aw! That's really cute!"

I put down my arm, still smiling. "Yeah, it is."

*****************

Over the next few days, I was waaayyyy too confident on finding my soulmate soon, if not right away. If Patton could do it, why not me?

"'Sup, dork!" a kid yelled out one morning on the bus. We were on our way to school, so he could have been talking to anyone, but still I pulled down my sleeves and quickly read over the words.

No match. It was probably for the best, anyway. The guy was straight, and also kind of a jerk. He wasn't even talking to me, either.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

Months later. I walked into the local bookstore, looking over the list that Patton had given me. Logan's birthday was coming up, and Patton had suggested gifting him some books and gave me a list of specific ones. Patton himself was making Logan a scarf, since it was nearly winter and the nerd got cold easily.

I walked over to the checkout counter a few minutes later with a stack of books in my arms. I placed them in front of the cashier, surprised at their weight. Those books were heavy.

The cashier hummed as he grabbed the books and scanned them, reading over their titles.

"Encyclopedia, A Brief History of Time, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd... wow, you're a nerd," he teased. I paused, then quickly glanced at my upturned wrist whilst the cashier bagged the books. No match.

Of course.

"Oh, uh, they're just for my friend. But he is a nerd. I'll tell him that you acknowledged it too," I remarked. The guy smiled, handing over the books.

"Have a nice day."

A few more months passed. I tried hard to forget that I had a soulmate and to stop constantly checking my wrist every time someone said anything similar to my soulmark. It worked, for the most part. I spent most of my time at school, anyway, and the rest of my days were mainly hanging out or talking to Logan and Patton.

I also spent a lot of my time drawing and painting, although that didn't really have much to do with the whole soulmate thing. I just really enjoyed it. I even posted a lot of it online, along with some picture of my friends and I just hanging out and goofing around.

One day while I was drawing, I heard a faint vibration from my phone, signalling a notification. I dropped my pencil and grabbed it, scrolling through all the random notifications from weird group chats until I found one from a comment on one of the pictures I had posted.

I tapped on it. The picture was one that Logan had taken, with him looking disappointedly into the camera whilst Patton and I goofed off in the background.

I kept scrolling until I found the comment.

PurpleDinosaur123: Lmao youre such a dork

For a second I felt my heart stop, and I scrambled to look at my wrist.

No match.

I sighed, instead opting to type out a reply.

Royal_arts: Lol thanks for noticing, I really do try

I put my phone on silent and tucked it away.

Almost a full year had passed since my sixteenth birthday, and although it was irrational, I was starting to lose hope. I know, it was dumb to expect a soulmate in just one year, but still. I couldn't really force myself to feel any different.

I pulled out my phone and texted to a group chat with Logan and Patton.

Me: i'm sad :(((((

DadPat: Is this about me eating the last cupcake?? if so I'm sorry <333

Me: wait you ate my last cupcake

Me: nvm it doesnt matter,, i'm just being angsty over the whole soulmate thing

DadPat: Aww, chin up kiddo, you'll meet him someday

Nerd: It's true. My parents didn't even meet until they were nearly thirty

Me: but what if i never meet him :(((

DadPat: Of course you will!! you're destined to, remember? it's basically set in stone :)

Nerd: Well, actually

Me: stfu logan i'm trying to cheer up here

Nerd: Right. My apologies

Me: s'cool

DadPat: Ah well, just get some sleep kiddo, maybe you'll feel better in the morning. love ya!! gnight!

Nerd: Indeed, perhaps some rest will benefit you. Goodnight

Me: goodnight ya nerd, ily2 patt

With that, I turned off my phone and let sleep overtake me.

I haven't seen him in a while, and it's a pleasure to see him again.

"Do you think I'll ever meet my soulmate?" I ask, staring into the dark, nightmarish atmosphere. He sits with me too, a warm and comforting presence beside me. He laughs and shakes his head, although it isn't a negative sign.

"You're a dork."

I tilt my head. "What do you mean?"

"Roman, you're a brilliant and amazing and creative person. Don't doubt yourself. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

I mull it over, before pausing. "Wait, what did you say?"

"I said that anyone would be lucky to have you."

I shake my head frantically. "No, no before that!"

"I said 'You're a dork'."

I feel like my breathing has stopped for a second. I stand up, backing away.

"No, no, no," I say breathlessly, running a hand through my hair. I nearly trip over my own feet.

"What? You don't want me?"

"No, I- I, but.." I'm stumbling over my words. Tears are threatening to spill out.

"Not you... not you... please, not you," I plead to deaf ears. The threat is now a battle with my emotions. My cheeks are wet with bitter tears and I'm gulping back breaths.

"Please..."

I jolted awake, my mouth ajar and sucking in precious oxygen. My eyes stung with fresh tears.

I grabbed my phone off the table and texted the group chat again.

Me: hey patt?? i'm gonna need a ride later

DadPat: Oh? what for?

DadPat: Are you meeting someone??

Me: kind of

DadPat: ??  ',:/

Me: i need to have breakfast, i'll just text you the location later, k?

DadPat: Okie kiddo, I'll pick you up at noon <33

Me: thx, ly

As he said, Patton was waiting outside my house by lunchtime. I stood anxiously outside my house, holding tightly onto a bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, hyacinths and lilacs, all varying shades of purple.

Patton waved me over, and I noticed Logan was sitting with him in the front seat.

"Hey, kiddo! I hope you don't mind that Logan came along; he saw your texts and wanted to make sure you were okay." Logan waved awkwardly at me.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes. "Thanks. It means a lot."

Logan tilted his head. "Roman, are you okay? You seem upset."

I let out a deep breath. "I met him."

They both perked up at this.

"Wait, really? Roman, that's amazing! Who is he?" Patton piped up, eyes glimmering excitedly. I kept silent and simply looked at him, watching his misty blue eyes scanning my face.

Logan realized it first. He stifled a gasp and his eyes widened, before softening sympathetically. Then it clicked for Patton. He gasped, and his hands flew to his mouth.

"Oh my gosh, Roman, I'm so sorry, that must be terrible," he rambled, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

Logan nodded, then gestured to the flowers. "Are those...?"

"Yeah," I muttered simply. Logan stayed quiet, knowing better than to press on.

The ride was agonising. Patton had tried putting on some Disney songs, but I insisted no music. The day was beautiful, otherwise; the sunlight glinted on the morning dew of the bright, crisp grass. The trees were lush and full of life, and daisies poked out of the masses of summer foliage.

We arrived after twenty minutes of almost complete silence. The only time it was broken was whenever Patton tried to crack a joke, or when he saw a sign that said ROAD WORK AHEAD and muttered, "Yeah, I sure hope it does," under his breath.

I got out of the car, the gentle breeze stinging my watery eyes. I gripped the bouquet with both hands, as if I were scared that it might have disappeared or suddenly died.

Just like he did.

"Would you like us to accompany you?" Logan asked tentatively. I shook my head slowly, my gaze trained on the ground.

"No, I-I'd like to be alone with him. You can join me later."

Logan nodded and stepped back to join Patton.

Walking through the maze of stone slabs was painful, as it always had been. Even the grass that had been bright and lively just a few minutes before seemed limp and dull.

I kept walking, each step slower than the other, but I kept going. I needed this. I needed to see him again.

I kneeled down in front of the grey stone slab in the ground. Letters were etched neatly into the grave, chipped away with time but still legible.

Here lies Virgil Emory

2004 ~ 2019

Gone, but not forgotten.

I took one more look at the writing on my wrist. The familiar curving lines and dark ink contrasting against my skin.

You're a dork.

I placed down the bouquet, a faint smile on my lips.

"So," I said, choking back a sob. "You're my soulmate."

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #prinxiety #one shot #fic #angst #tw death mention #royal writes

[mokonalikescake]

Our Love Was Foretold in the Stars! (WIP)

Shallura Week Day 7: WIP

A big thank you to @shalluraweek for organizing a successful event, and for all the wonderful writers and artists who flooded the tag! It was wonderful!

Here’s a snippet of chapter 4 from my Tanabata-inspired fic:

The air was cool in the early morning. Allura had stayed up the night before, mulling over the flaws of her quintessence battery; her device was able to hold quintessence for a full day now, but with the amount of quintessence it absorbed, what came out of it was barely a trickle.

Allura woke up on her bed, barely remembering making the trip from the lab to her bedroom. The bags under her eyes were deep and dark, belying the few hours of sleep the princess was able to muster. Her mind was filled to the brim with calculations, models, and static.

The princess begrudgingly got out of bed, mentally cursing her internal body clock for waking her up at this hour. She pulled a deep burgundy dress with golden accents over her body and sat in front of her vanity. She looked at her face in the mirror and cringed. Her dark circles could be hidden under a few swipes of makeup, but she couldn't erase the ring of pink lining her tired eyes; however, it was the best she could do right now.

Allura snuck into the kitchens, swiping a pastry. The lone baker in the room happened to catch her and bowed, a little amusement in his eyes. The princess blushed and gave a nod back. She took a bite, immediately immersed in the sugary sweetness of juniberry jam bursting out of the flaky crust. 

Allura hummed. She definitely needed the treat after the rough night she had.

“This is delicious!” she exclaimed,”Wonderful as always, Fraylen.”

The baker smiled at the princess's approval.

Allura quietly walked her empty hallways as she finished her breakfast. The first traces of sunlight started peeking through the windows, slowly growing bigger and brighter as she went to the training grounds. 

The grass squelched under her feet, dew still coating each blade. The grounds were peaceful and quiet, a rare but welcome sensation. 

The kingdom was in the midst of a week-long festival honoring the creation of the world by the goddess. King Alfor had suspended court, and he permitted many of the servants to go back home during the holiday. Even the knights had suspended their training. Very few people would be up this early.

Captain Shirogane just happened to be one of the few who were.

His shirt, a rag, and a flask of water were placed carefully on the grass. Allura picked them up and watched. The man was without his shirt, and the princess admired the view.

The man’s body was pure muscle, sculpted through years of discipline and training. He moved gracefully and deftly around the training grounds, and Allura committed every part of his body to memory, for future daydreaming.

The captain finished all of his drills, his stance wide and his sword pointing towards his sole audience member. His eyes grew wide. 

“Princess!” He quickly sheathed his sword. Allura could see him flush a deep red all the way down the column of his neck. The man stood stock still as she approached him.

“Captain, please,” she teasingly reproached him, “we are alone. I told you before that you can call me Allura.”

Those words seemed to appease the captain, who immediately relaxed and gave her a small smile.

“If that’s the case then, Allura, you can call me Shiro.”

“Shi-ro,” Allura tested the way it sounded, “Shortened from your last name, I presume?”

Shiro gave her a nod. “Everyone but my commanding officer has called me Shiro since I was training.”

The princess hummed in understanding. She was still holding the items he left on the grass, and she offered them back to him. Shiro thanked her as he took the rag. He quickly wiped the sweat off his face and neck, once more pulling Allura’s attention back to his body. 

From the moment she saw them during the drills, Allura’s attention was most captured by Shiro’s scars. They varied in size and color; some were faded scratches, while others were more angry looking, swathes of pink scar tissue on his chest from wounds that haven’t completely healed yet. Some might feel repulsed by the marks on his body, but the princess felt fascination and appreciation, twinged with a pinch of sadness. Her father said Shiro had went through a lot to become the Captain of the Black Lion Forces, but she could hardly imagine what he had to face. 

Her eyes quickly mapped the contours and ridges of his body before looking back up to his face, only to meet his onyx-colored eyes, Her face felt warm again. Allura quickly looked away while shaking her arm holding his shirt.

The captain grabbed the shirt, one again murmuring his thanks,  and put it on. Allura silently thanked the Goddess for Shiro not commenting on her ogling. 

He then took the flask out of her hands. Their fingers brushed each other for a moment. Allura felt as if someone zapped her with quintessence, and she wondered if Shiro felt the same. If he did, he had no reaction; instead, he hastily opened the flask and gulped the water down. A drop of water escaped his lips, sliding down his jaw. Allura traced the droplet with her eyes as it moved down his neck. She noticed that the scratches there were, thankfully, few and faint in color.

Quickly realizing she was ogling again, the blushing princess stared at the grass, trying to gain her composure. 

“Given how my father suspended training, I thought you would be taking a break,” Allura remarked.

“The best time for me to train is when I have no one else to teach. Besides, this is how I relieve stress from breaking up these two knights who keep bickering,” Shiro groaned at the mention of his two worst students.

Allura knew the two whom Shiro was referring to. They were skilled, and they were pretty good when paired together, but eventually one of them would turn a simple drill into a contest. 

“I can only imagine,” the princess replied, “You must have all the patience in the world.”

Shiro shrugged, “Patience yields focus. There’s a time and a place to release my frustration, and it’s never when I’m training others. How would I get my men to trust me if I yell without thinking?”

The pair lapsed into silence as Shiro wiped his brow.

“Are you finished with your training for the day?” the princess inquired. 

“I am. I’m going to take a bath and then go down to the village for the festival.”

“Perfect! I have to make an appearance there myself. Would you be my escort?” Allura asked, hope quickly morphing into horror that she brazenly asked the Captain of the Black Lion Forces to be with her on his sole day off. 

“N-not that you have to! You’re off duty today and you should enjoy it however you like -”

Shiro cut her off by giving her a bow. She noticed the small smile gracing his handsome face.

“It would be an honor.”

#shallura #shalluraweek2020 #shallura week #I read a lot of romance novels #can't you tell? #stay thirsty my friends

[redbone135]

Fake Dating AU

(I’m posting this here for Swanfire week because it bothers me to have unfinished fics on my AO3 account. It’s the set-up for a fake dating AU that I’m fairly certain will never actually get written. Strap in, it’s a long post.)

“Wait in the car,” Rumple hissed as sheriff Humbert let go of Neal’s shoulder with a resigned shake of his head, disappearing into his back office and leaving the front desk clerk to deal with this mess. The recurring shenanigans of Neal Gold had become way below his pay-grade.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Neal insisted with a pout.

“I said. Wait. In. The. Car!” His father managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Neal shouted, kicking at the front desk as he passed, causing a heap of papers to fall over onto the floor. 

“CAR!”

“FINE!”

“Can I see his emergency contact form,” Rumple asked with a grimace, “I’d like to add Milah Cassidy to it - that’s Cassidy with two Ss and an I. If you could give her a call first next time-”

“You know,” the front desk woman - who the Gold family was on quite intimate terms with at this point - began while eyeing her stack of toppled papers on the floor, “There’s a juvenile support group for young offenders. Their rehabilitation program is said to work wonders.”

“I’m not an ‘offender’!” they heard Neal shout from the front entryway of the county sheriff’s office before slamming the door behind him. 

Rumple shook his head. His son would never agree to that. And honestly, he knew where Neal got it from. He wouldn’t want to sit in a room with a bunch of other bad decision makers and share stories of his failure while people plied him with cliche platitudes, assuring him he was still, deep down, a good person. He waved the flier away politely.

“We don’t need that.”

She shrugged, “You know, you’re going to run out of bail money eventually, right?”

“Bail money only runs out when he does.”

They both cast a thoughtful glance back to the front window, Neal visibly sulking in the passenger seat of his dad’s car. He’d somehow managed to find a sharpie in the immaculately clean car and was adding to the permanent collection of his ‘artwork’ on the car’s dashboard.

The front desk clerk raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, fine, give me the flier,” Rumple sighed.

*

Rumple had been right, Neal did not want to go to the group meetings. In fact, he had been so vehemently opposed that he had threatened to pack his bags and run away, and that had been the end of that conversation. So they hadn’t talked about it, or his community service, or the fact that he hadn’t seemed to learn his lesson at all. In fact, his family had stayed suspiciously quiet about it up until the day they had decided to all go out for a family lunch at Granny’s diner and Belle’s minivan had pulled up to a stop in front of the little church advertised on the flier. And even though Neal begged them to talk about it then, they hadn’t had much in the way of a discussion as his little brother undid his seatbelt, and his stepsister pushed him out of the car, slamming the door behind him, while his father waved spitefully and Belle promised they’d be back to pick him up in an hour. 

And he had never planned on walking into that church, he’d hitchhike to his mom’s and it would serve them right, but just in that moment a woman had walked by with a box of doughnuts and they had smelled really, really good. So maybe he had time to grab a snack before he booked it to the relative freedom of the Cassidy-Jones houseboat. 

Yes, the plan had been simple. Get a free cup of coffee and doughnut, sneak out the back before anyone noticed, get to his mom’s, and then when stepdad started to irk him - probably around day three - he’d come back to his dad’s and they would have all been so worried about him there would be no more talk about him having to go to these stupid meetings. 

Flawless plan.

And then he saw her.

She was slouched over in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, flanked on either side by two other girls that looked about as terrifying as Neal’s stepsister, picking at the loose threads in a hole in her leggings. She had thick, black-rimmed glasses that made her bright blue eyes look seductively large, and red lipstick that wasn’t her shade but definitely proved her point. 

And a homemade tattoo on her wrist. Intriguing. Neal had done enough homemade tattoos on his friends to recognize talent. His mind began to swim with daydreams of the two of them, stretched out across his bed with a bottle of India ink between them as he added intricate details to the daisy, transforming it into a work of art befitting the masterpiece of a canvas it had been painted on.

New plan.

So he stayed for the meeting, taking carefully timed sips of coffee so that he wouldn’t have to share anything with the group. She didn’t share either, he noticed. Perfect. She also didn’t want to be here.

So he waited for her by the snack table afterwards, watching her put extra doughnuts wrapped in napkins into her purse - like anyone would have cared if she’d just taken the whole box. 

“Neal Cassidy,” he said, extending his hand and startling her into jumping and dropping the doughnut she was holding.

She glared. “You don’t need to know my name.”

“I like your tattoo,” he offered, turning to follow her as she walked away toward the front door. “I have one myself, want to see it?”

“Not if it involves you taking off any articles of clothing,” she said, offering him a smug grin.

“Maybe later then,” he said, speeding up his pace to step in front of her and stop cold, blocking the only door, much to her obvious annoyance. “So, why are you here?”

“Stole a car.”

“Wow! Same, we’re twins!” he exclaimed with a grin, and he thought if he wasn’t mistaken he saw the tiniest hint of a grin on her face. “So why’d you do it?”

“Why did you?” she shot back a little too aggressively.

“My mommy didn’t love me enough,” he laughed, “It’s this whole tragic backstory thing, if only I’d had someone to be proud of me, maybe then I wouldn’t be living this life of petty juvenile crime. I was just one caring parent away from being a scholar and a gentleman. You?”

She definitely chuckled at that, her shoulders letting go of some of the tension as she placed a hand on her hips and shot back with equal glibness, “No excuse. I just enjoy pure, mindless vandalism.”

That was kinda hot.

“Really?” he asked, “No tragic backstory? No evil step mom, followed by one who is way too young for your dad? No little half-sibling that gets all the attention and an aggressive step sister who is just staying with you until her mom gets out of jail? No creepy step dad who hits on your friends and takes money out of your wallet when you’re not looking?”

“Nope. My parents are perfect.”

And the way she said the word perfect told Neal everything he needed to know about her family. There was her reason, beyond enjoying the random chaos of destruction, the slight inflection on the word perfect was her reason. And so Neal adjusted his plan slightly.

“Oh, wow. Well you want any of those things? You can have mine, I wouldn't mind sharing.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks,” she laughed, pushing him lightly out of the way to walk to the church parking lot where a lot of the other teens were climbing into family cars. Of course his family wasn’t here yet. 

“Listen, Anna,” he said, “I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I. What if there was a way we could help each other with that?”

“It’s Emma,” she corrected before realizing the trap she had fallen into. “And if you’re suggesting some sort of murder-suicide pact then you should know I’m already pretty close to murdering the creepy stalker who just tricked me into giving him my name.”

He grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waited for her to finish surveying the parking lot. Her parents weren’t here, either. What a shame.

“Listen, you need someone to help you convince your parents you’re rehabilitated. It’s not a question. With your attitude, they aren’t gonna buy it without some outside assurance. I’d be excellent at that. What says ‘walking the straight and narrow’ better than a polite boyfriend who also happens to be really good and drawing up fake reports cards and providing alibis. I swear, I’ll have you out of this thing in under a month.”

She turned to look at him skeptically, “You think you can charm my parents? My mom literally calls my dad Prince Charming and you think you can charm them?”

“I know I can.”

She mulled it over, not seeming to hate the idea as he had anticipated. 

“And in exchange? I’m what? The sweet girl next door in a floral sundress who promises your parents she’ll take you to church and make you normal again?”

“Nah. Dad’s on his third wife and mom lives on a boat. They have no idea what normal even looks like. No, I want you to convince them this whole group thing is hurting more than it’s helping. And you look like exactly the kind of girl who can scare the daylights out of my dad. Tell me, how good are you at faking a pregnancy scare?”

“Who’s faking?” she laughed, rubbing her stomach sarcastically.

“Perfect!” he ginned, pulling a pen out of his bag and scribbling his number on a napkin for her. “I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow - wouldn’t want to have you out past dark. Oh, and one more thing, when you finally do meet my dad, I need you to mention how cute it is that he and my stepmom have matching British accents. That will make more sense when you meet them.”

“Goodbye, fake boyfriend!” she waved, as a rusty blue pick-up pulled into the parking lot, jogging over to climb into the cab.

Neal waited another thirty minutes for his family to arrive.

“How was your meeting?” Belle asked over her shoulder as Neal shoved Regina out of the way to get to the back seat. 

“Start any fights yet?” Regina asked, reaching into the back to punch him in the knee, “Light any fires? Get anyone pregnant?”

“Regina!” Belle scolded, “Don’t talk to your brother like that.”

“Step brother!” She and Neal chimed as one.

“And in the spirit of fairness, dearie,” Rumple mumbled from the passenger seat, “Those are all very good questions.”

Neal hoped Emma was as great as acting as he was. Because if his family thought he was trouble now, it was about to get a lot worse.

#sfweek2020 #fake dating au #neal cassidy #emma swan #ouat #sorry it's so long #no graphic today cause adobe is driving me crazy

[thesilverdragoon]

The Cabinet of Curiosity

Previous: The Inn at Journey’s Head

"Word's come in that Holminster Switch is requesting a refreshing and a bolstering of the guard for a little while."

"Are they now?"

It had been fairly quiet for the better part of the day. Only a handful of soldiers had come in to be treated, leaving everyone at the Spagyrics with a little more free time on their hands than they were used to.

Not that there weren’t things to do still. Like cleaning (Chessamile would use the word ‘spotless’ most often, even knowing this was nearly impossible.)

"There've been reports of eaters coming closer and closer to the fields where their animals graze. The townsfolk are starting to get rather worried, I assume." Chessamile continued, brushing a stray lock of hair way from her face after wiping off her glasses.

Hanameen hummed aloud as she thought about the news. "And you're telling me this...why? It’s not as though I can go rushing out there to defend the town all by myself."

Chessamile had this almost wry looking grin about her as Hanameen went back to dusting the shelves. "Well, for starters, I've been seeing you eye those tomes as of late."

"And? What of it?" She paused, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

It had to have been months since she last picked up any book of incantations, much less practiced them. It was a frequent enough occurrence. Life kept her and everyone else nearly scrambling all the time to make end’s meet as it was. She simply hadn’t the time.

"Aaand there's a good chance Gennar will probably be sent there as well,"

Just the thought of it made Hanameen's mouth crumple into a squiggle. She knew better than to get her hopes up.

But she just couldn't help it.

"I'm no good at throwing spells and what have you Chessamile, you know that. They need actually skilled people. You know. Skilled in fighting??"

"Well it would be as good as any a time to practice wouldn't it?"

Feather duster still in hand, she turned to face her, "Even if I did go, purely on your insistence, then who will watch the boys? I can't just leave-"

"Why I'd be delighted to watch them in your absence!" The old woman offered very dramatically, clapping her hands together. "They'll be so busy helping me they wouldn't have any time to wonder about much else. And far too tired to fight, certainly."

Hanameen chuckled a little at that, before turning away again. "Still… they'd be heartbroken if I-"

"Come now, they're not babes anymore Hanameen. They can survive several weeks without you.

With Gennar and the others there, the town will be relatively well-defended. Large scale attacks out that far north are rare, if they happen at all.”

Again Hanameen hummed with indecision as she mulled it over in her head.

It was true. With work and the boys, she hardly had any time to herself to practice magic, or do much of anything else.

While she held little interest in the more offensive side of magic-casting, she found the healing aspects of it to be far more useful to her own needs (as well as others.)

When was the last time she'd tried to cast any sort of spell? Well- months of course, but she hardly remembered anything that she did at the time.

Letting out a breath she cleared her head, searched for a target and then closed her eyes. Slowly she raised her hands and focused on a nearby flower pot, willing a barrier to form around it.

The air shimmered brightly and distorted, as though the pot were caught in a soap bubble that engulfed it entirely. But she couldn't hold it there for long.

With a sharp exhale, the magic barrier shattered and faded away.

Hanameen looked dismayed as Chessamile came and patted her encouragingly on the shoulder.

"So,"

"I don't know,"

She clapped both hands on Hanameen’s shoulders and bobbed her back and forth in a teasing way. "Geennnnn will be theeerree~"

Hanameen couldn't even stifle a laugh. "Oh stop! I would just get in the way and distract him,"

"Trust me, that boy NEEDS to be distracted by his own family if that's what it'll take for him to realize he needs to come home more often. It's ridiculous. Twelve years of this nonsense, running around out and about saving the world, doesn’t even remember to come home to care for his own children! Or falls right asleep the minute he does!"

"I know...but… well, he has an important job- they all do out there."

"Bah, men's all time famous excuse. Important job or no, he has children that need their father, and a partner who needs him.

...Or at the very least you could start scouting out someone else!"

Hanameen snorted rather hard as they both broke out into laughter. "Wicked white- Chessamile! Why don't you go instead? So you can look for someone you fancy yourself?"

"Ohh you know I would, if we didn't have so many of our own running in here covered in bumps and bruises and anything else they can think of, begging me to kiss them better.

Though, I could just wait for the Exarch's new companion to come back. Now he's quite a handsome looking fellow with those adorably round ears of his,"

Hanameen wiped at her eye. "Goodness, you'll scare him away with that devilish side of yours."

"I don't make it easy for them, it's true." Chessamile nodded with all the wisdom of a sage.

"I should go find the boys, see what they think about all this." The last thing Hanameen wanted to do was upset them by suddenly leaving without any warning.

Fenick wouldn't have it. And Arval? She didn't even want to think about it (and no doubt all the crying and blubbering that would ensue.)

"They might be more willing if their father is involved." Chessamile suggested, sifting through a crate of clinking, colorful medicinal bottles. "You know how much they miss him. Even Arval, despite him never saying so."

"I know," Hanameen nodded in agreement. "...I'll speak to them after supper.

You'll be all right here on your own this evening?"

"Of course!" Chessamile waved her off. "Go on now! And let me know when I need to start preparing a spot for them in my apartment! We'll have a wonderful time!"

"I will. See you tomorrow."

As Hanameen left the Spagyrics, she couldn’t help but feel that tinge of worry, tainting every other thing that would come to mind.

To just up and leave like that...

What if something went awry? That was always the danger of going out into the field. What if something happened to Gennar if she didn’t go? What if something happened to her if she did? As much as she trusted Chessamile and Fae-Hann and the others… well…

Fenick and Arval needed her.

But, Chessamile was right too, in that they weren’t as little anymore… And how would she ever find time to practice her own magic in order to build her own skills?

There were no easy answers. And she was loathe to bring it up to either Fenick or Arval to begin with.

As the Rotunda came within view, Hanameen sighed loudly, drooping with the sound as she frowned at the aetheryte swirling around in the center. It was quite mesmerizing. But she willed herself to stay focused.

Rather than head off towards the marketplace as initially intended, she turned and walked the other way, to the lower levels of the Crystarium.

It had been quite some time since she paid the towering vault that was the Cabinet of Curiosity a proper visit.

________

The library tower in the Trivium had always been something of a marvel unique to the Crystarium. Hundred- no, thousands upon thousands of books sat there in shelves that went all around the room in a circle. Ones that had survived the disaster of the time after the Flood from ages long past, all meticulously cared for by a handful of archivists and scribes who worked relentlessly to protect them. Not even the gilded halls of Eulmore held such a collection.

Or perhaps they did. But Hanameen wasn't sure if they had had their own library to begin with (would there be any time to read? Living a life of luxury? Surely there would.)

The place almost echoed as she pushed the massive doors shut, once again sealing the relative silence back within the library's walls.

The Cabinet of Curiosity it had been dubbed by the residents from long ago, back during the beginnings of the city when it had first been built.

And what a fitting name it was.

In the center stood a column with stairs that spiraled all around it and up to the very top, sectioning off different levels with even more books along the way.

Hanameen took a few slow and aimless steps, merely enjoying the feeling of being able to have a leisurely look around at all.

Inevitably, several tomes caught her attention during her browsing, and she pulled one off of its shelf. A dark blue book with gilded letters and gold on the pages, and a well loved ribbon-bookmark dangling limply from the top.

She remembered the book. It had been one of her favorites growing up.

Flipping through it brought back memories of palaces in faraway lands with magical gardens and lords and their knights- not unlike the stories she had read to Fenick and Arval a hundred times over.

Gennar had been somewhat of a gentleman back then. Somewhat. What with the holding doors open for her, laying his coat on puddles for her to walk over, inviting her to dance in that funny way he would try… The memories made her practically swoon. And she would have done so aloud, had she not shaken herself out of the daydream and back into reality.

That's right...incantations… spell books.

Clearing her throat awkwardly (it wasn't like anyone was watching,) she climbed the column stairs to the top level. "Moren! There you are!" Only to startle the hume librarian with short green hair in even greener-robes into dropping a whole stack of books he'd been carrying. "Oh! Sorry-"

"Hanameen! Wh- I didn't even hear anyone coming up the stairs! You haven't been back in some time," He scrambled to pick everything up, only to offer a sigh of thanks as she stooped down to help him. "Is Fenick growing bored of the same stories? I might have a few he may be interested in-"

"Oh, no it's nothing like that." She dusted off her skirt folds once Moren had righted himself. "I'd actually come to see what your selection of spell books was. I still have that beginner's guide that you let me borrow months ago, though I'm afraid I haven't had much of an opportunity to study it all that closely."

Once Moren had set down the stack of books onto a nearby surface, he put a hand to his chin, gazing upwards as he thought. "Other spell books? Well… I can tell you that all of the knowledge builds upon itself. If you haven't mastered the basics you might have a harder time with the others…

N-not that I would know! My skills lie in the preservation of antiques and old literature!! Not casting spells to send eaters to oblivion!

I assume that's what you were aiming to learn anyway?"

"Not exactly…

Holminster Switch calls for aid and Chessamile recommended I test my skills out in the actual field. Which...would be a much quicker and more effective way to learn but-"

"Learn on the job with eaters about?! She's mad that one!! That's dangerous!

And besides, who would care for Fenick and Arval??"

Hanameen let out a light sigh as she rolled her eyes. "I know- I'm in agreement with you there...but," Chessamile did have a point still.

"And she did offer to watch them while I was gone."

Moren looked slightly dismayed by the answer but held his objections nonetheless. "Well, if I were you, I would plan on studying every minute of the day just to even hope I stood a chance out there. For one minute even!

Let me see what I have…"

"I haven't decided yet, I was going to think about it tonight." She added as he motioned for her to follow him back down the steps to the floor below them.

There he perused through the shelves, plucking out tome after tome until he had another armful of books with him, letting them practically drop onto another nearby studying table (weren't you supposed to be delicate with old books?)

"You could branch off into these, from the one I gave you… If I'm remembering it correctly that is. I think I am."

Hanameen came forward, picking each book up and scanning through random pages.

"I think this will do. Thank you Moren."

"You're not going to lug all those out there with you? I suggest these, if you plan on it," He held two up out of the bunch and offered them to her, which she took.

"Well now if I wanted to be a big bumbling target I'd just tie a sign to my head. These two?"

"Yes, they review the basics well enough and delve into the more advanced aspects of barriers and such."

"Perfect! Just what I needed."

Moren looked relieved, at the very least. "Excellent then. Just...please try not to damage them, you know how finding copies is a nightmare."

"And since when have I ever not been careful with books?" Hanameen smiled innocently.

"Since Arval…" Moren muttered before hiding the comment with a cough. As if he could, from an elf. "A-anyway you'd probably best be on your way! You're going to have a lot of studying to do tonight!"

With renewed confidence Hanameen gave a firm nod as she turned to go back downstairs. "Oh won't I. Thanks again Moren, I'll be sure to bring these two back safe and sound! I promise!"

The hume nodded in return and gave a small wave as she left through the large doors and back out into the Trivium. Only after she was gone did he stop hiding the concerned look about his face.

#dovah writing #hana gets a turn now! #im actually really enjoying writing her #im also still getting over the trope of 'girl charas are only interesting when theyre masculine' cuz thats simply not true

[phoenix-downer]

Temptation

For SoKai Week Day 5 - Light and Darkness OR Nightmares and Daydreams (kind of a mix of both). 

Alright, so this is a continuation of the fic I posted yesterday, and it is still not finished, whoops. This story is really starting to become its own thing. My guess is that there will be three parts total, and this is 2/3. It’ll get posted to FFN and AO3 when the whole thing is done. Enjoy!

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A single raindrop fell on Sora’s hand, and he sighed deeply. Another reminder that Kairi was sad. And worse, he was powerless to fix it.

Wandering around late at night in a place as big and mysterious as the afterlife was probably not the best idea, but it sure beat sitting down and thinking too hard. All the neon lights and dark alleys were a good way to get his mind off everything.

Except when Kairi dreamed. He found his heart drawn to hers, and her flickering image haunted him when she slept. This time it had found him in a side alley as he’d searched for some clue as to how to get out of here.

He was about to tuck her lucky charm back in his pocket when he realized it was gone. Heart pounding, he reached into his pocket. Not there. He checked his other pocket. Not there, either. It wasn’t in any of his pockets, and it wasn’t on the ground. It wasn’t anywhere at all.

He raked his hand through his hair as his stomach did flips. How could he have lost it? What would he tell her when—

“Looking for something?” came a mysterious voice.

Sora whipped around, his Keyblade appearing in his hand by instinct. In the alley behind him was a figure wearing a black coat. Eyes narrowing, Sora moved into a battle stance. He’d had enough black coats to last him a lifetime.

“Woah woah woah!” the man said as he held his arms out. “Put that thing away!”

“And why should I?” Sora asked, raising his eyebrow. “Who are you?”

The man tossed something in the air, and with a gasp, Sora realized it was Kairi’s charm.

“Hey, give that back to me!” he said as he reached for it. The stranger evaded him easily, holding the charm just out of his reach. He shook his head and made an annoying clicking noise with his tongue as Sora kept trying to grab it without any luck.

“Where are your manners, man? Didn’t your mom ever teach you how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you?’”

Sora glared at him. “You stole something from me and now you want me to say ‘please’ to get it back? No way. That’s mine, now hand it over.”

The man looked at it more closely. “It’s from your girlfriend, isn’t it? Better get it back soon, or you’ll be in hot water.”

“G-Girlfriend? Kairi’s not my girlfriend, she’s my—”

Sora hesitated. Was she his girlfriend? Yeah, they’d shared the paopu fruit, but was that the same as dating? The exact label to slap on their relationship had seemed kinda unimportant compared to all the other stuff they’d had to deal with lately, so he hadn’t really thought about it that much.

“Your what, Sora?” the man said.

“I—” Sora’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on, how do you know my name?”

The man chuckled. “I know a lot about you. I’ve been watching you for a long time now.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better because…”

The man put his hand on Sora’s shoulder. “Seriously, man, you need to chill out,” he drawled. “You’re all tense, all wound up.”

“You would be too if some random stranger had just taken something important from you!”

The man gasped and lifted a gloved man to his mouth. “Oh how rude of me! I never introduced myself.” He offered his hand. “Call me Ken.”

Sora just looked at the man’s offered hand. “Ken? Really?”

He waved his hands and laughed, a loud guffaw that echoed off the walls of the alley. “Nah, I’m just messing with you.”

The laughing just kept going on and on, and Sora shifted uncomfortably. Seriously, what was with this guy?

The man cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full height. “Alright, enough of the jokes. You at least deserve to know my name. I am… the Master of Masters.”

Sora raised his eyebrow. “The Master of Masters? Yeah right. That sounds even faker than Ken.”

“Believe it or not, Sora, that is my real name. Well, my real name now. It’s not like my parents named me that! Can you imagine, naming your kid something like that? You’d have to have an ego bigger than Kingdom Hearts!”

Sora’s heart caught in his throat. “Kingdom Hearts? You know what that is?”

“Sure do.” The Master of Masters looked around. “You know what else I know?” he said, beckoning for Sora to come closer.

“What?”

The Master of Masters beckoned again, more impatiently this time, and Sora sighed and took a step closer.

He cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered, “A way for you to get back to your girlfriend.”

Sora’s heart pounded in his chest as the Master of Masters placed the lucky charm in his hand.

“No snap decisions,” The Master of Masters said as Sora tucked the charm into his pocket. “I’ll give you some time to mull it over. If you want to see your girlfriend again, who is no doubt a lovely individual, seeing as how you changed places with her so she’d end up up there,” he said, pointing up, “and you’d end up down here,” he continued, pointing down, “you can meet me again here tomorrow night.”

Sora considered this, but before he could answer, the Master of Masters continued.

“Buuuuut, if you don’t care about her and want her to die of old age, alone, never married because she never got over her jerk of a boyfriend who abandoned her and kept stringing her along with the hope that he’d come back someday—”

“Enough!” Sora snapped as he pushed the Master of Masters against the wall and pinned him there.

The Master of Masters let out a low whistle. “Ho ho ho, look at that! Have you got a lot of darkness inside of you!”

Sora froze and looked at his arm. Darkness was wafting off of it. His eyes snapped back to the Master of Masters. “You wanted that to happen, didn’t you? You goaded me into it!”

“Just testing your control. You’re gonna need it if you want to get home.”

Sora opened his mouth to answer, but the Master of Masters put a finger over his lip. “Shhhh, you don’t have to give me your answer just yet. Think it over first.”

With that he was gone. How he’d disappeared so quickly, Sora had no idea. Sighing and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Kairi’s charm to look at it again.

“What if this really is the only way to get back to her?”

He was running out of options. He hadn’t had any luck with anything he’d tried so far. Hadn’t found any clues that hadn’t fizzled out. Playing the game hadn’t worked. He was still stuck down here with nothing to show for it.

In his mind he could picture Kairi’s face, see her crying because of him. Knowing he was the one making her sad was too much to bear. No more tears. He’d had enough of that. He wanted to see her smile again, more than anything. And the only way to do that was to make it home like he’d promised.

“Hey, Master of Masters?”

Just like that, the Master of Masters was back, casually lounging against the wall. “Yeah?”

“We don’t have to wait till tomorrow. Tell me how to get home. Please.”

He patted Sora on the head. “Atta boy. I’ll have you home in no time.”

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The next time Kairi dreamed, Sora was the one who met her at the shore.

“Sora?” she asked as she waded into the shallow surf, the water and sand tickling her toes.

His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled as he lifted his hand to the barrier. “Kairi.”

A lump built in her throat as she lifted her hand to meet his. The barrier was still between them, but hearing his voice for the first time since he’d— since he’d—

She swallowed the lump and smiled. “You can talk.”

His face lit up. “Wait, you can hear me now?”

“Yes,” she said, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Yes, I can.”

“Kairi,” he said again, his smile getting bigger. “Kairi. Kairi.”

She giggled, her face flushing. “Is my name the only thing you know how to say anymore?”

“Gosh, it’s the only thing I want to say.” He rested his forehead against the barrier and sighed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to talk to you.”

She ducked her head and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to talk to you, too.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then glanced down at his hands. They were already fading again.

He looked up, an anguished expression in her eyes, and the lump returned to her throat. “Sora—” she said, reaching for him only to feel the barrier again.

He put his hand against the barrier near hers. “I won’t give up, Kairi. Whatever it takes to reach you, I’ll do it.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I know you will. And you know what else I know?”

“What?”

“I’m looking for you too. All of us are.”

He smiled at that. “I know. See you soon, Kairi.”

“See you soon.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Kairi alone again.

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“I did it! Kairi can hear me now!” Sora said as soon as he ducked into their usual alley.

The Master of Masters was waiting for him there as always, lounging on a bunch of crates. At Sora’s words he straightened and clapped. “Well done, Sora! Anything else to report?”

Sora hesitated. “Well, the barrier’s still there, but… Kairi hearing my voice is progress, right?”

“Sure is. But you have to figure out how to get that barrier down, or you won’t be able to cross back over into the Realm of Light.”

Sora sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m stumped. How am I supposed to do it? The Power of Waking doesn’t work. Kairi’s light magic doesn’t work, either, and she’s a Princess of Heart. I don’t know what to do.”

“Soooo, what you’re telling me is, you’ve tried light,” the Master of Masters said, holding up his right hand, “and you’ve tried the power that killed you in the first place…” he added, holding up his left. He brought his hands together in the middle and looked at Sora. “Now... why haven’t you tried darkness yet?”

Sora jerked back. “Darkness? I can’t use the darkness.”

The Master of Masters shrugged. “Why not? You used it all the time when you were alive.”

“Yeah, but… only when I was really angry. It sort of took over and I lost control when that happened. I’m not like Riku, I can’t use it safely.”

“Listen to yourself. ‘I’m not like Riku, I can’t do what he can,’” the Master of Masters said, imitating Sora’s voice.

Sora raised his eyebrow, and the Master of Masters sighed dramatically. “Sora, come on. You saved all of your friends. You brought your girlfriend back from the dead. You’ve saved the worlds over and over again. If you’re not a hero, then I don’t know who is.”

Sora frowned. “Sure, I guess, but that doesn’t mean I’m like Riku.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re a Master like Riku, you mean,” the Master of Masters corrected, holding one finger in the air. “Man, Sora, don’t you ever think it’s all a little… unfair?”

Sora tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

The Master of Masters just shook his head. “Sheesh, they’ve got you brainwashed. You sacrificed everything for your friends, and this is your reward? Death?”

“My… reward?”

Xigbar’s words echoed through his mind. Had he known all along that death lay ahead of Sora? Had he been trying to warn him?

“I’m telling you, Sora, a guy like you is a hero,” the Master of Masters said, really emphasizing the last words. “You deserve to be a Master.”

“Maybe, but I failed my Mark of Mastery.”

“Yeah, you failed because you didn’t have control of your darkness. But this is the perfect chance to learn how! I can help you.”

Sora crossed his arms. “I don’t see how. I failed because my heart almost fell to darkness. I can’t risk that happening again. I’ve gotta stay in control.”

“Don’t see how?” The Master of Masters sighed again, this time sounding irritated. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kinda dense, sorry.”

Sora bristled at that, but the Master of Masters just held his hand up. “Think about Riku for a second. He got his Mark of Mastery because he got control of his darkness. He didn’t run from it. He didn’t lock it up. He channeled it into something better and turned it into light. Who says you can’t do the same?”

“I mean… I guess I could try, I just don’t see how this will help me get out of here.”

He just didn’t see the connection between using darkness and getting home. He’d never been able to traverse realms by using darkness, only light.

The Master of Masters patted the spot next to him, and Sora sat down. The crates were kinda soggy from the rain, but it couldn’t really be helped.

“Sora, think back to your final battle with Xehanort. What happened when he stole your light?”

“I… I turned into a Heartless. Well, kinda. I wasn’t a Heartless exactly. I was more like… a human Heartless.”

“And how did you fight in that form?”

“With my Keyblade.”

“And before that?”

Sora scratched his cheek. “Well… I couldn’t fight with my Keyblade at first in that form. I was more like a wild animal, just scratching and clawing and kicking at stuff. It wasn’t until later that I could use my Keyblade.”

The Master of Masters slapped him on the back. “See? You’re improving. You’re evolving. You’re getting better control. First you fought like a monster, and now you’re fighting like a man. What do you think the next step will be?”

“A hero?”

“Wrong!” the Master of Masters said, making a loud buzzing noise afterwards like they were on a game show and he was the host. “The next step is…” he paused and stretched his hands out. “...A god.”

Sora laughed at that. “A god? Really?”

The Master of Masters nodded, and Sora gave him a weird look. “You can’t be serious. My friend Hercules is a god. I’m just an ordinary guy. There’s nothing special about me. Without my friends, I’m nothing.”

“Wrong again! You are the most powerful Keyblade Wielder of your age. Destined for greatness.”

“I… I am?”

“Yup.” The Master of Masters rested his chin on his hands. “Tell me, Sora, have you ever heard a little voice speak to you?”

Sora frowned. “Like… my conscience?”

The Master of Masters waved his hands. “No no no, during your awakenings.”

“Oh.” Sora thought long and hard. The memories from his awakenings were always sort of blurry, but…

Wait. There was a voice. There was always a voice. It helped him and guided him. Reassured him and eased his fears.

“I guess I have, actually,” he said.

“And what did it say?”

Sora thought again. “That I’ll... open some kind of door?”

“A-ha! There it is!” The Master of Masters jumped to his feet and let out a whoop like it was Christmas morning. It echoed throughout the alley, and it was a wonder no one else found them with all the racket he was making.

Sora sighed and rested his face on his hands. “I don’t get it.”

The Master of Masters whirled around. “You don’t get it? Haven’t you heard all the legends about the person who will open the door?”

“No? Should I have?”

“Sora, the one who will open the door will be reborn as something greater than human! He, or she, will have the power to remake the worlds!”

“Remake the worlds?”

With that kind of power, Sora could get home, easily. No, better than that. He could… he could make it so that the Heartless all became people again. The Nobodies could all get their hearts back, too. And then… with the threat gone, he could finally go home. He could be with Kairi again. With Riku. With all his friends.

“You really think… I’m the one who will open the door?”

“I do. But to get to the door, you have to be in control of your darkness. You have to be the best version of you.”

The Master of Masters gently poked his heart, and Sora thought. Thought about all the people he could help if he got power like that. Thought about seeing all his friends again. Thought about making Kairi smile.

“Show me how, then. Show me how to control my darkness.”

“Gladly.”

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Thanks for reading! I’m hoping to have Part 3 done soon but we’ll see. This story is inspired by several people - @teganberry, for coming up with the original headcanon, @chachacharlieco, for building on said headcanon and drawing art for it, @violetstar-writes for also adding to the idea, and @rapis-razuri for letting me bounce ideas off of her. @angel-with-a-pipette also gave me some good advice. A big thanks to all of you!

I have to say, writing the Master of Masters is a lot of fun. I don’t know why I didn’t do it before now. He surprises me sometimes even with what he does. Never a dull moment with that guy.

The plot bunnies have been multiplying rapidly lately it would seem... back to work for me!

#sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2019 #sora #kairi #master of masters #the master of masters #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix downer #manipulation #temptation #light and darkness #kh3 spoilers #kingdom hearts 3 spoilers