#getting something out of his suit jacket and then we were gone. strange choice of location to ask ur boyf to marry u king

[commander-krios]

Wherever You Lead

Fandom: Andromeda Six Pairing: Calderon Lynch/Traveler Rating: Teen Summary: Goldis is back in the hands of the Peg'asi monarchy, but big changes are coming to the planet and the rest of Seleota. At least Calderon gets one night of peace with the princess he's fallen head over heels for. Words: 4882 Additional Tags: Royalty, Politics, Ballroom Dancing, Sexual Tension, Romance, Kitalphan Traveler, Post-Game, Post-Canon, Game Spoilers

Read on AO3

~~~~

The hallways in the south wing were quiet, the damage nearly gone thanks to the servants and artisans who had cleaned and reconstructed anything destroyed in the fighting. The war to take the throne from Zovack was won nearly a month ago, a tense peace brokered between those who still stood. Now, it was time to decide what the future held for them all.

Calderon Lynch stood outside of one of the royal suites, staring out of the window at the gardens below. The palace was another world entirely, gold and glittering and its people ignorant of the struggles of those in the districts. At least, it had been. He hoped with Nerissa as the figurehead, something would change. That the blood he and the rest of his crew had given would mean something.

The suite’s ornate door opened to reveal a tiny person with greying dark hair, a beautiful face lined with slight wrinkles, but they wore their age with dignity and grace. Fleur was always radiant, even when Calderon was a child, but there was something humbling about seeing his mother against the ruined backdrop of palace walls. The knowledge that despite the horrible circumstances that brought them here, they were safe and that they were here. His past collided with the present in a strange limbo that still made him feel small and insignificant. That made him feel unworthy of the life he’d been given.

Fleur stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them with a click, only to throw their arms around his middle, hugging him with as much strength as their small form allowed. He didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, pulling them tight against his chest. 

“Calderon, there are no words to describe how happy I am to see you.” They whispered, pulling away slightly to smile at him, tears sparkling in their eyes. They brushed a hand down the elaborate navy jacket he wore, gold embroidery reflecting the light. “I knew you would look so handsome in this.”

“You’re never wrong.” He replied, a soft grin crossing his lips. 

They sniffed, taking another step back, examining the rest of his attire with a critical eye. Clearing their throat, they straightened his cape, smiling through their emotions. “I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, Calderon. You’ve come a long way from the young boy who ran wild through the streets.”

He snorted, remembering those days with Jasper, back when they were nothing but Gold District kids who had big dreams. “I expect you never imagined I’d end up here. Especially after joining the Guard.”

Fleur smiled fondly, meeting his gaze with a love that he missed on his darkest days while on the run. “Considering how you got on with little Nira as children…”

“You mean how we nearly came to blows as often as she did with her twin?”

“Arlo.” Fleur chuckled, running a hand over their hair, taming a few stray strands, memories dancing in their eyes. “He was always a shit, but you had her back when he took things too far.”

“I didn’t even remember who she was when she walked on my bridge.” Calderon admitted with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “She… hasn’t let me live it down.”

Fleur laughed in that soft way they always managed. “She wouldn’t, would she? Princess Daianira was always a handful. But seeing you so happy… It’s what I always wanted. What your mother and I always wanted. No matter what choices you made in the past, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

Daianira had told him, back on Tilaarin, that he deserved more than he thought he did. For the first time since Jasper’s betrayal, he actually believed it.

“Now,” Fleur began, smoothing their hands over their own attire, mind clearly elsewhere. “The coronation starts in an hour. The princess should be nearly ready, but she’s a bundle of nerves.”

Calderon raised an eyebrow, concerned for the first time since stepping foot in the palace that morning. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine. It’s been a while since she’s attending anything more formal than tea with her mother. She’ll get back into the swing of it, I’m sure. Besides, she’ll have a handsome guard to escort her.” Fleur winked at him and he knew his blush was fierce in response.

“I don’t think I can be considered a guard anymore.” He sighed, the fluttering in his chest at the thought of being on Daianira’s arm too tempting. It was dangerous territory to explore when the future was so uncertain. “But I’ll do my best to help.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow, barely hiding their suspicion as they watched him. “Of course you will.” They paused briefly before pointing a finger into his chest. “You better not be late, Calderon.”

“I’m not going to ruin Daianira’s evening, mother.” 

“It’s not her evening I’m worried about. It’s mine.” They teased him. “I’ve worked hard on the gowns for the coronation and I do not intend to let one of them waste away on the floor.”

Calderon didn’t get embarrassed often, but the way his mother was staring at him, he couldn’t help but glance away with a nervous laugh, face heating at the thought of skipping the entire ceremony to spend the night locked in Daianira’s private suite. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Mhm. You haven’t seen her yet.” 

He managed to swallow around the lump that’d appeared in his throat, giving his mother a tight smile. “We’ll be there.”

Fleur smiled, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll see you soon then.”

The sound of their heels echoed down the hall as they made their exit. Calderon took a deep breath, filling his lungs until they felt like they’d explode before releasing it through his nose, trying to find a calm amongst his turbulent emotions. The anticipation over the coronations, his nerves concerning seeing Daianira dressed like a real princess for the first time, and the fact that they were finally free: from Zovack, from running. Once they made it past Nerissa’s coronation, they could work towards a better future for the entirety of Seleota. 

When he finally managed to get the courage, Calderon knocked against the door to Daianira’s suite, the sound reverberating in the quiet. It took only a few seconds before she called out for him to enter. Taking another quick breath, hoping it would calm him, he pushed the door open.

The room appeared empty, the sun pouring through the open windows, birds singing as they flew past, a beautiful Goldis summer day that he never expected to see again. He’d never been in many of the palace’s suites before. Only on the rare occasion when Fleur was requested to dress the Stellar Queen for a royal function and he tagged along.

The room was designed like many other sections of the palace, in burgundy and gold, chestnut moulding and furniture, the entire scheme too dark for his tastes. The carpet beneath his feet was plush, muffling his steps as he walked in, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The sun did little to brighten the interior, but the room still had some charm. Roses in shades of cream and pink sat on the table in front of a sofa, their fragrance mixing with the warm breeze.

A pair of pearl combs sat on a dresser, discarded amongst other items: A silver handled brush, a pink sequined scarf that glittered in the sunlight, a clearly loved book with a tattered leather cover. He trailed a finger over the cover, reading the title and not recognizing it.

“Calderon?” Daianira’s voice was small and he nearly missed it.

“I’m here. Are you ready to leave?”

“I…don’t know.” Her voice trailed off, catching his attention. She never lacked confidence. It was inspiring though it exhausted him at times, the two of them butting heads over the stupidest things, but he always loved how she knew who she was, what she wanted, and had no hesitation in making decisions. But this wasn’t the Daianira he was used to hearing: this one sounded terrified.

“Is something wrong?”

A sigh met his ears and he had to stop from smiling. She sounded so frustrated that he could already see the scrunched nose, the slanted eyes, the downturn of her lips. “Just… don’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

Stepping from behind the dressing curtain, Daianira faced him, her hands clutched nervously in front of her, eyes downcast, tracing the patterns in the carpet with her gaze. It was odd to see her so quiet, so unsure of herself, but he couldn’t find the words to speak. Not when she looked like that in a dark gold gown that spilled in soft waves around her, a sweetheart neckline that plunged low enough to see the top of her breasts. A cuffed choker dripped diamonds across her collarbone, sparkling as she moved into the sunbeams. Her rose gold hair was pulled up into a simple tucked bun, a few pieces of hair curling around her face, framing the beautiful turquoise eyes now lined in gold and burgundy.

Calderon lost the ability to breathe at the sight of her standing there, looking every bit the princess that she was born to be. “You…”

She sighed, fingers itching her nose as she tried to hide her irritation. “I look ridiculous. Like a goddamned porcelain doll.”

With three quick strides, he crossed the distance between them, afraid to touch her but his hands twitched with the need to. He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face so that she met his eyes. “You look bewitching, Daia.”

She scrunched her face at him and he almost laughed at how disgruntled she looked. “Is that some new kind of insult?”

Calderon shook his head, fingers trailing across her throat, brushing gently over the necklace. She tensed at his touch and he felt like he was touching fire. She burned every part of him, whether she realized it or not. “I don’t need a fancy way to insult you, smartass.”

She swatted at him, a smile twitching her lips. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist before she could make contact, lifting her hand slowly and pressing a kiss against her palm. Her cheeks flushed slightly, biting her lip as she met his gaze. “You know…”

“Don’t even think about it.” He chided her, huffing a laugh. “We don’t have the time.”

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t think about it for a second.” Daianira rested her free hand against his chest, eyes burning with a passion she only looked at him with. A passion that he returned a thousand fold. “You want to rip this dress off of me and I won’t stop you.”

Calderon scoffed, pressing a kiss to her hair, the smell of her favorite cinnamon tea lingering between them. His fingers trailed down her arm, leaving goosebumps behind, and she trembled against him. “I’m not going to risk the wrath of my mother. Or your sister.”

She sighed, toying with the fringe on his cape. “Coward.”

He stilled her fingers, squeezing them affectionately before dropping their hands to his side, entwining his fingers with hers. When she met his gaze again, her eyes had softened, affection shining so brightly there, the walls she usually kept built high crumbling the moment he smiled at her.

“Fine. But you better make it up to me later.” She stood on her toes, brushing a kiss over his jaw. He tensed slightly, his hands sliding around her waist, squeezing her sides gently, possessively. Her breath warmed his skin when she lingered, lips tempting him to turn his face and claim them. Somehow, he managed to beat down the desire to a simmering flame.

When she dropped back to her heels, Daianira searched his expression, a grin tilting her lips at whatever she saw. “Good boy.”

His hands dropped away as she turned her back on him, but Calderon refused to yield just yet. He reached out to circle his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from moving more than a few steps. When she glanced back, he could see the laughter in her eyes, a teasing smirk aimed at him. He pulled her closer until she collided with his chest, letting out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling in his jacket.

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against her gill scars, feeling her melt against him, her hands slipping into his hair, gripping the strands hard and he had to bite back a moan. “This isn’t over, stowaway. Not by a long shot.”

“Sounds like a threat.” It came out as a whisper, her voice straining with the passion she felt. 

“A promise, sweetheart. One I’m happy to keep.” As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to step back, breaking the hold he had on her hips. Offering his arm instead, Calderon sighed, his smile lighter, happier. It was the happiest he’d been in a long time. “May I escort you?”

Daianira laughed again and his heart soared on the sound. She slipped her arm into his, tilting her head so she was resting against his shoulder. “I’d be honored.”

~~~~~

The coronation had been long and dull, like he’d expected, although there was a decent distraction in the form of a princess sitting in the front row. She’d pretend to inspect the stained glass windows and statues that surrounded the throne room, only for her eyes to land on him, a devious smile curling her lips. Once she turned away, eyes focused on her sister taking her vows, he thought he’d imagined it.

After the third time, Ayame nudged him in the arm, drawing his attention. He was met with the sight of her wagging her eyebrows at him, a conspiratorial grin on her face. 

“What?” He muttered, trying to concentrate on the ceremony, but Aya laughed quietly next to him, her giggles shaking her tiny body. “Shut up.”

Ayame leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

Aya laid a hand on his arm, smiling at him with sincerity. Or as much sincerity as she could muster while still laughing at him. “It’s nice to see you happy, Calderon. I didn’t think you were capable of smiling so much.”

He swallowed nervously, ignoring the obvious jab at his normal grumpy countenance, but knowing he should say something. “Thank you, Aya. The same goes for you and Khadar. You two seem to be keeping each other company a lot lately.”

She flushed, shifting closer to Ryona on her other side, refusing to look at him again. He felt a laugh in his chest, but he stifled it when Daianira glanced at him again. His skin itched, the desire to skip the rest of the night and take her back to her suite making him tense, but he knew it wasn't an option. So he tried not to fidget as he sat next to his crew, watching Nerissa Peg’asi be made Queen.

After the coronation concluded, they were whisked away to a ballroom where Daianira and Nerissa were immediately swept onto the dance floor, twirling with the rest of the nobility of Goldis. With a sigh, he situated himself in a quiet corner away from prying eyes, content to watch as his princess enjoyed her evening.

Calderon wasn’t one for small talk so he avoided most of the guests, especially those he wasn’t particularly fond of, nursing a glass of wine and keeping out of the eyeline of his mothers. The last thing he needed was either one of them getting on his case about being a spoilsport.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to keep hidden for the entire night.

“Why are you sulking over here while my sister is dancing with one of your crewmates?”

Calderon froze, the gentle sound of Nerissa’s voice jarring him from his thoughts. He glanced to the side, not surprised to see she’d somehow sneaked up on him. He’d been distracted all evening, mostly by Daianira and her habit of making him smile despite his surroundings. She’d even managed to drag Damon out onto the dance floor and after a few minutes, he was dipping her and making her laugh. 

At the moment, June had her in his arms, an enormous grin on his face before he spun her, that golden dress that his mother sewed billowing out around her, glittering under the lights. She was gorgeous, always had been even in the crew’s second hand clothes when she’d first come aboard the Andromeda Six. But now, seeing her in her old life, he felt a twinge of regret at how nothing would ever be the same again. They’d both lost so much and he wasn’t entirely sure what was next.

Rubbing his neck, he sighed, eyes sliding to Daianira again of their own free will. “She’s having fun and I… am not a fan of dancing.”

Nerissa made a noise that he swore was a sigh but it was too soft to tell. She stood next to him, her eerily violet gaze on the scene as well, watching with affection as her youngest sister laughed. “She’s right. You’re stubborn as hell.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “I’d like to think I’m the least stubborn out of the two of us.”

Nerissa laughed quietly, as reserved as ever. “Considering she finally got her wish, I’d say you have a point in your favor.” She trailed off, her smile disappearing, eyes turning sad as she watched June dip Daianira, her hair nearly touching the ground. “I’m going to miss her.”

Calderon glanced at her, his attention diverted completely now. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“She’s withdrawn from the line of succession. After tonight, she’s no longer a princess.” 

When his eyes found Daianira again, she was standing off by the refreshment table, chatting with Ryona and Bash, an excruciatingly beautiful smile on her face. He felt peaceful seeing her so at ease, so free from the pain that crushed only her months ago. “She didn’t tell me.”

“We only decided on the details this morning. She’ll represent the throne as an ambassador to Cursa for the time being. Working with Alisa and Zane to establish an alliance, trade routes, and the planet’s future. Which includes independence. In time.” Nerissa sighed, glancing at her hands, lost in thought for a moment. “She wants to be free from the burden of the throne and I envy that. She deserves to be happy.”

On that point, Calderon could agree with her.

“So, since you didn’t answer my earlier question, I’ll ask you again: Are you going to stay in the corner all night or are you going to ask Nira to dance?” 

Nerissa nodded her head at where he’d been staring, only to see that Damon had whisked Daianira onto the dance floor again, looking strangely at ease with the movements. Calderon huffed through his nose, realizing how much it irritated him to see Damon make her laugh. It should be him there with her. 

Nerissa laid a hand on his arm briefly, but he found he couldn’t bother looking at her. Not with the way Daianira was smiling, like the sun on a hot afternoon: altogether too bright and beautiful. “It’s her last night here. It should be one to remember.”

The new queen walked away after that, her heels clicking in a steady rhythm as she began to mingle with the uppercrust of Goldis. Smoothing the jacket he wore, he made his way across the dance floor, somehow dodging the waltzing dancers with quick steps, only to come face to face with Daianira and her dance partner.

Damon smirked at his appearance, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, look who decided to take those difficult ten steps over here. Jealous?”

Calderon’s jaw tensed, but he managed to keep a lid on his anger. “You’re delusional.”

Damon’s grin widened, stepping away from Daianira. Calderon expected him to return to whatever the hell he was doing before the dance, but he bowed over her hand instead, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. When he spoke, it was clearly to Daianira, but his eyes were on Calderon. “Let me know when you want to go for round three, sweetheart.”

“Keep flirting and I’ll let Alisa know where you keep that damned cat.” She crossed her arms over her chest and Calderon thought it was the sexiest thing to witness whenever she handed Damon his ass. “And don’t go crying to Zane. He’s just as much Alisa’s bitch as you are.”

“You’re no fun.” He muttered, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “Good night, Princess. Cal.”

Damon disappeared into the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, probably to find some unsuspecting idiot to badger. Calderon grinned as he watched him leave, feeling like a battle had been won, but when he turned to speak to Daianira, she was watching with a cold expression.

“What is this?” Her arms were still crossed over her chest and he only noticed in the light of the lanterns overhead that there was glitter dusted across her collarbone and breasts, sparkling each time she caught the light at the right angle.

His mouth went dry, tongue useless in his mouth as he stared at her, mesmerized by the anger scrunching her nose, her full lips pulled tight, the fire in her turquoise gaze. She was ablaze on that dance floor, pink and gold and glittering. Beautiful and dangerous, a woman whose only fear was losing him to the war they’d fought. She was giving up her life of safety and comfort to make sure her friends, the people she cared for more than any riches in all of Seleota, got their fair chance.

The woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

“Who threatened you? Because I know you didn’t come to dance of your own free will.” She glanced into the crowd, looking for Nerissa or perhaps one of his moms. It didn’t matter because she wouldn’t find them. They were too smart for that. “It was N, wasn’t it?”

Calderon sighed with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into his arms before twirling her along with the music. She gasped, but fell in sync quickly, the dance coming as naturally to her as breathing. She clutched at his shoulder, her hand tightening against his almost painfully, but he could handle her rage as long as she’d let him kiss her breathlessly after.

His hand flexed against her waist, feeling ridiculous as he moved around the dance floor, even if it was with her. He could feel eyes on them, burning a hole in the back of his head, and he flushed, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. Clearing his throat, an uneasiness settling over him, he met Daianira’s turquoise gaze, feeling his heart stutter in his chest at her smile, all hints of anger gone.

“I need to talk to you.”

She tilted her head, face softening as her hand slid from his shoulder to settle against his neck. “I’m not stopping you.”

A sudden, breathless laugh left his mouth. “I meant somewhere that doesn’t include your sister, my moms, our entire crew, and half of Goldis staring at us.”

A sly grin curled her lips. “Why? Is this talk actually code for something else?”

“If you want it to be.” He promised, resting his forehead against hers, the press of her body along his promising a passion that he always happily fell victim to. “But I do want to talk first.”

“I’m listening, Calderon.”

And she was, her attention solely on him, the other dancers and guests only background noise to what went on between them. She squeezed his hand softly, waiting for him to speak.

“So… Ambassador?”

She flinched slightly, such a small thing that he was certain no one else noticed it but him. He shifted closer to her, her chest pressing against his, and he was certain she could feel his heartbeat through his jacket. “Nerissa told you.”

It wasn’t a question, but if it wasn’t public knowledge, very few people knew about it which meant her guess was going to be correct. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daianira glanced away, biting her lip. After a few moments, she sighed. “You were so happy about being back home, I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Her selflessness never ceased to amaze him. “Daia-”

“This isn’t my life anymore, Calderon.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze and it hurt to see that even now, she was afraid of failing everyone else. “I was never good at it to begin with.”

Taking her chin between his fingers, he forced her to look at him. “Whatever you choose, I know you’ll be amazing at it.”

Her hand left his neck to rest against his chest above his heart. “Flatterer.”

It didn’t take much more prompting to get her to finally leave the dance floor and wander out into the gardens, the scent of thousands of blooms in the air. The moon lit their path as they walked in silence, Daianira on his arm, heels clicking softly on the pavers. It felt like a fairytale, being outside after the stifling air in the ballroom, with the princess on his arm, but nothing in their lives had been so simple.

They paused near one of the fountains that King Fenris had built for the Lunar Queen, Nikolle. One of Daianira’s favorite places in the palace. Or at least, it used to be. Her arm was still snugly tucked into his, her eyes on the glow of the moon overhead. His gaze was only for her, the golden beauty that somehow broke down the walls that guarded his heart.

She still managed to shock him after all of the time they’d spent together. Even with all of her discussions about removing herself from the line of succession, Calderon never expected her to follow through. Not with how convincing Nerissa was.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” 

Daianira leaned her head on his shoulder, hair brushing his neck as she sighed softly, a happy sound. “You are? You don’t think I need to do what’s best for Goldis?”

“The last few months helped you figure out who you are. And who you’re meant to be. Not what other people wanted for you. If that means you aren’t royalty anymore, it doesn’t change what I think of you.” 

It didn’t change how he felt.

“And being an ambassador is important. There are so many people out there that need you.”

She was quiet, glancing at the fountain in front of them. The water poured from the sculpture of a mermaid holding a vase, her eyes fixed on them as they stood there in the darkness. 

“And what about you?” She turned to face him with worry and something else lingering in her gaze. Something that he’d be able to read even if he didn’t know her so well.

Do you need me?

Entwining his hand with hers, he tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Who is going to keep you out of trouble on Cursa? Damon? We both know he’s the cause of most of it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She said, wrinkling her nose in irritation, stubborn to the end. “I thought Nerissa offered you the command of the entire guard.”

Calderon shook his head, this woman driving him insane every day of his life. But, despite how much she might get under his skin, he would still choose her after everything. “I’m not a guard anymore, Daia. I haven’t been in a long time and I can’t go back.” Not after everything he’d been through. “Besides, being an ambassador means you’ll need transportation. Luckily, I know a Captain who will take a stowaway.” 

His heart felt like it was in his throat, but he managed a smile. She stared at him, expression clear, and he found for the first time since they met he didn’t know what was going through her mind. And that scared him to death.

What Calderon wasn’t expecting was for her to throw her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that scorched him down to his soul. His fingers curled into the folds of her dress, getting lost in the feel of her heat against him, her mouth dancing against his, the slide of her tongue between his lips. He drank everything she gave him and he wanted more.

Somehow, Calderon managed to break contact, forehead falling against hers, their breaths intermingling in the space between them. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She laughed, fingers brushing the nape of his neck, sending shivers through his body. “Well, I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, something primal, needy and brushed his lips against her neck, feeling her fingers tighten in his hair. “Did you want to test that claim?”

Daianira opened her eyes, blinking briefly before meeting his gaze. “I’ll go wherever you lead, Captain.”

#my writing #andromeda six #a6 #a6 fanfiction #a6 traveler #kitalphan traveler #oc: daianira #calderon lynch #traveler x calderon #daianira x calderon #nerissa peg'asi #damon reznor #ayame ikeda

[lobotomycas]

I think I saw a guy propose to his bf on the side of the highway today. strange choice of location and I'm not sure that that's what was going on bc it was a highway and we were there and gone pretty fast but if that's what was going on I hope they're doing well

#they were both in suits. I thought one of them was upset like he had his hands up against his forehead #we drove past #I turned around to keep looking bc I'm nosy and the other guy lowered to the ground and I saw movement like he was #getting something out of his suit jacket and then we were gone. strange choice of location to ask ur boyf to marry u king #but ig u know what ure doing #the suits???? are what makes me think something important was going on #for all I know they weren't even both guys #but I saw suits and short hair??

[angry-geese]

OSHA Non Compliance

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. shameless smut. fingering, oral (fem and masc receiving), face riding, praise kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, mutual pining. gojo slander. a little dub con due to the sex pollen stuff. afab reader

Notes: some sex pollen smut with Nanami. i have a post thats pretty similar to this thats a gojo x reader which you can read here

Word Count: 3.3k

If there's one thing you two can agree on, it's how this is all Gojo’s fault.

The job was supposed to be simple; get in, exorcise the curse, get out. It wasn't a particularly deadly one, but it was proving to be difficult for lower grade sorcerers. Anyone who had come into contact with it fell violently ill, suffering effects that lasted between hours to days. The symptoms themselves varied from person to person. Nobody seemed to give a straight answer.

In response, you two were sent out.

As odd as it was, you didn't question it. Curses are odd, things like this happen. Two grade one sorcerers should have been enough to take this thing out. One alone should have been enough, not to mention the army of sorcerers sent after it before. Gojo wanted you to take backup just in case, shrugging you off when you asked why he couldn’t do it himself. You were certain you could take this alone, but he was insistent.

Reluctantly you dragged Nanami along.

The two of you weren't officially partners, but most of your jobs were done together. It was a mutual agreement. He found you much less annoying than Gojo. That's not to say he didn't find you annoying at first, but you were more tolerable. Nanami wasn’t much older than you—only by a few years—but he acted as a mentor when you first started out. You quickly improved, nearly rivaling him in strength. It wasn't long before you became a grade one sorcerer, same as him. On that day he was there to celebrate with you.

He likes to think you’ve turned out to be a semi-functional human being. Maybe he’s gotten sentimental as he’s grown older. He hated for his work life to cross over into his home life, but he’s made an exception for you. Any time you’d call, he’d come running.

The curse had taken up residence in an abandoned school, only being discovered when the building was being surveyed for possible reuse. You’re not sure why nobody had noticed it sooner, but you’ve learned not to question a curse’s behavior.

It’s attack had a strange area of effect. You've never seen anything like it. The fact that such a non-lethal curse was considered such a high grade should have tipped you off in the first place. The curse released some strange sort of fumes. Or spores. You really weren't certain what they were. It was airborne and you knew that you needed to stay far away.

While the direct hit missed you, you were still affected. You took in a lung-full of the stuff before you managed to get away.

If it weren't for Nanami…

You barely make it back to the car. You’re not injured, so much as you’re lightheaded, and nauseous.

“I’m not going to make it back to the school.” You say.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

Slowly you shake your head. It's not wrong, per se, but it's not right either. This is a strange type of hurt.

Your apartment is closer. The drive was twenty minutes on the way there; you make it back in about eight.

You’re not sure what to do once you get inside other than contemplate your life choices. You toss your keys and bag aside. There's not much you can do aside from flop down on your couch and pray. Not that you’re the praying type normally, but what could it hurt?

The effects of the pollen seem to hit you all at once. The sickly sweet taste in your mouth makes you gag. You fall to your hands and knees and retch, but nothing comes up. If you thought you felt bad before, you definitely do now. Sweat beads on your forehead. You feel jittery, yet lethargic. Heat radiates off your skin like a furnace. Your mouth has gone dry. Your clothes feel too tight. You’d claw them off your body if your partner wasn't sitting a few feet away.

You swallow hard as heat begins to pool between your legs. You shift uncomfortably, trying to get some relief.

While you’re slowly losing it, Nanami looks fine. As calm and collected as ever.

Nanami didn't seem to get the brunt of that attack. Or maybe he's better at hiding it than you.

He is.

He’s been dealing with an aching cock since you two left that building. He was all-too aware of every corner and bump on the ride home. You were too busy trying to escape with your dignity to notice him, and the tent that grows in his pants. He covers his lap with his suit jacket. You think nothing of it.

He studies every dip and curve of your clothed body. They cling to your skin with sweat in a way that makes his cock throb. Nanami knows how wrong it is. He shouldn't feel this way. You're his damn partner! Looking at you this feels so wrong.

In an attempt to comfort you, he smooths a hand across your back, gently squeezing your shoulder. Sweat beads in your hairline. Your chest heaves.

“I don't think it’s something we can wait out,” you say, swallowing hard.

“What are we-” it’s as if he didn't realize what he was asking. His eyes go wide, before his gaze shoots straight to the ground.

“‘Ken-” You say, hoping he can't hear the way your voice trembles, “I feel like I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

It's with a sinking, horrifying feeling that he agrees. Slowly you climb into his lap. It feels wrong. But your body fits perfectly against his. He’s your partner—your friend—you shouldn't be wanting him this way. He’s pliant against your touch, moving with you, paying close attention to each and every one of your movements. Every cell of your being wants him to fuck you.

“I know.” He says. “Me too.”

He hauls you into his arms, setting you down on the couch back-first. The sudden weightlessness you feel makes you gasp. There's nothing gentle behind his touch. Your hands work to undo the buttons of his shirt, but they tremble so bad it's hard to do.

“Don't worry about that.” He coos. "Let me take care of you."

With shaky hands he undoes the buttons on your pants, sliding them down your legs. His face heats up at the way your panties are already soaked through. All this just for him?

He tries not to stare too long. If you were the only thing he looked at for the rest of his life, he'd be content.

He strokes at your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He almost seems afraid to touch you. For a moment he is, but that quickly wears off when you moan. He can't help but watch the way you squirm and writhe under his touch. How the delicate fabric clings to your skin from how wet you are. He hates how much he enjoys seeing you like this. It feels wrong.

“Please,” there’s a hazy look in your eyes.

He swallows hard. You’re not thinking straight, he thinks, this is so wrong.

He pulls down your panties, throwing them aside with your pants. You tug off your shirt, quickly tossing it aside. His hands come up to palm at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He gently tugs the fabric down, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air. As wrong as it feels, you would be lying if you said your partner wasn't attractive. Not only is he handsome, and one of the most powerful sorcerers you have met, he was a close—if not your closest—friend.

Nanami’s touches are feather-light. It's not that he's worried about hurting you—though the fear of that is there—he doesn't want this to ruin your friendship. He doesn't want you to view him differently because of this. The two of you have gone through much together; he doesn't want this to make things awkward. He’s just wanted you for so long.

He never intended for his work life to cross over into his home life. That was until you came along. Nanami can't imagine a life without you around.

Two of his fingers press against your entrance, his thumb circling your clit. His fingers are long, and fairly thick. Only one enters you at first, but you’re wet enough he adds a second one not long after. His fingers curl, stroking against your g-spot. His touch feels like too much yet not enough. You desperately grind against his hand, chasing your own release.

If he can just get you to finish, maybe he can wait it out. You’ve clearly got it worse than him. Right?

He pulls you up into a kiss. His lips taste sweet. Your lips part, allowing his tongue into your mouth. His chest presses against yours. Your thighs tighten around his hand, though not in an attempt to stop him.

Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. You moan into Nanami's mouth. You're reduced to a whining, whimpering mess under his hand.

His free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze meets his. A sleepy grin spreads across your face. The pad of his thumb brushes over your glossy lips. In a moment of lucidity you wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around the digit.

Nanami almost forgets how to breathe. Nobody can get him nearly as flustered as you can.

The coil in your stomach snaps. If you knew how much you gushed around Nanami's fingers, you'd be blushing. Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm on his hand.

Your first orgasm provides no relief. In a matter of seconds—probably less time than that if you're being honest—you're ready for another round.

You work the last few buttons of his shirt open before he gets impatient and pulls the thing over his head. You let out an audible “oh!” at the sight of his chest. It's more toned than you expected; not that you’ve given it much thought.

“Like what you see?” He says in a sudden moment of boldness that it surprises both of you.

You nod. Now really isn't the time to be shy, but you can't help it.

He's painfully hard, his erect cock leaking precum against his thigh. The tent in his pants is impressive to say the least. You get on your knees, tugging his pants down his hips. You were right to notice his bulge. He's huge. Long and thick. Uncut too. The hairs towards the base of his cock are light—a similar sandy blonde as the hair on his head—and neatly trimmed. He always takes care of himself. A prominent vein runs up the bottom. A small pang of guilt hits you when you realize how needy his cock looks. His chest, the tips of his nose and ears, and the head of his cock are all dusted with pink. He looks at you with such adoration it makes your chest flutter.

You slide off the couch, getting on your knees. Nanami parts his legs just enough for you to kneel between them.

His eyes go wide the moment your lips touch his cock. You press kitten licks to the tip, watching the way his lip twitches in frustration. Nanami’s hands bury in your hair. The feeling of his nails raking against your scalp makes goosebumps raise along your skin. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you stroke with your hands. Saliva runs down your chin in streams, tears stained black with eyeliner streaming down your cheeks.

The only sign that he’s about to orgasm is the way he tilts his head back, cursing.

When he cums, he cums a lot. It's thick, but runny, and has almost no taste to it at all. His cum spills out the corners of your mouth when you pull off of him, releasing him with a pop!

Without thinking, you swallow.

With how long he stares down at you, it almost seems like you’ve done something wrong.

You can't stop the squeak you let out as he hauls you into his lap. He lays back, guiding your hips so you’re kneeling above his face.

“What are you-”

“It’s only fair that I return the favor,” he says.

No matter how hard you try, he doesn't let you wriggle out of his grasp.

“I- I don't want to suffocate you.” You say.

The amount of his testicles Nanami would cut off just to get a taste of your cunt… He’ll give you a hint, it's more than one and less than three.

“You won't.” He said. Even if you could—which you couldn't, he’s stronger than he looks—he’d die happy.

Your thighs cradle his head in an almost perfect way. There's almost no better feeling. His tongue dips between your folds, circling your clit. You taste sweet, he notes. A kiss is pressed to your clit before long, slow strokes of a hot tongue lavish it in affection. He kneads your thighs gently all while alternating between licking and sucking on your bundle of nerves.

He wants nothing more than to take his time with you. After all, he’s got years to make up for.

You can feel and hear him panting against your dripping sex. He can do little to hide the way he grinds his bulge against the couch. He grunts when you tug his hair, guiding him to where you need him most.

There's a feeling of emptiness as you cum, your walls contracting around nothing where something should be. You ride out your orgasm with a series of short, high pitched moans, rocking your cunt against his mouth. Nanami takes all of it in stride, lewdly slurping at your sex. Your thighs shake, your cunt spasming as he continues to press kitten licks to your clit.

And god- the sight of his face; his lips wet and slick from your cunt, eyes hazy with lust, his hair a mess.

"It's no use." You say. It's in-between whimpers and moans. Even as your second orgasm approaches, you feel no sense of relief. "I need your cock."

He feels himself twitch with need. His cock barely went soft the first time he came. Nanami wants nothing more than to sink his length into your warm, wet cunt.

He doesn't bother carrying you to your room. He would have fucked you in the car if you asked. He’d fuck you on every flat surface of your apartment if you wanted him too.

His cock presses against your entrance, rubbing at your folds. He doesn't mean to tease you, he just wants to drag this out as long as he can. You're so wet you take his cock with no resistance. He groans at the feeling of your cunt as you sink onto him.

Cumming on his tongue is intoxicating, but it feels like nothing in comparison to his cock. Nothing substitutes for the hot, full sensation of his cock inside of you. You string together words in some desperate attempt to make a sentence. Being completely filled is making you woozy. Nanami fits just so well inside of you. It's like you were made for this. You're not sure if it's the pollen, or just him, but you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

"Can't believe-" he huffs, "can't believe you got tighter after cumming twice."

"Please Ken," you whimper.

It hurts, but it feels too nice to stop. Nanami can't tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as you ride him. The sounds of skin slapping on skin echo through the room, mingling with his grunts and your moans, creating a lewd cacophony.

"Fuck," he says, his seemingly calm demeanor fading, "you're so fucking pretty."

Gojo would give him shit about this for weeks if he knew…

You're starting to think he meant to do this.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, although it's hard to stay mad for long.

“Me too,” he says.

Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, throwing you around and spitting you back out, leaving you an absolute mess. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Eyeliner runs down your face in streams, leaving black trails across your skin. It's the first time you've cum from g-spot stimulation alone. But it's also the same as the other two times you've cum: you're ready for another round instantly.

At some point in time Nanami gets on top. Your legs lock around his back, pulling him in. Maybe you blacked out. Exhaustion creeps into your limbs, leaving them sore and wobbly.

Nanami thrusts harder, trying to quell the fire that pits in his stomach. He doesn't warn you that he's coming. If he's being honest, he didn't know he was either. You just feel hot ropes of his cum fill you, spilling out, staining your couch. When he cums, his cock doesn't even go soft. If anything he’s harder. Almost instantly he’s ready for another round. He's never felt anything quite like this.

The sensation of his cum dripping out of you, running down your thighs in streams is bizarre. There's so much of it. You don't want him to stop. He brings a hand down to give your ignored clit some attention. His spare hand wipes your tears away, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek.

Even as he's made you cum for the nth time tonight he doesn't stop. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you're no longer sure where your body ends and his begins. It doesn't feel like enough. You’ve never been so full. He wants to cum in you and breed you until your womb is swollen with his child.

At some point he collapses from exhaustion—he thinks—and he's certain the two of you are going to die. No human can survive this, he thinks, that's impossible.

Neither of you died.

It could be minutes, it could be hours; by the time you wake up the sun has set completely. You're not sure what time it is, but judging by how long the sky's been dark, it must have been a while. Nanami snores softly, his drool pooling in the valley between your breasts. You card a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. One of his eyes cracks open. He can't tell if he’s dreaming or not. If he is, then this is too good to be true.

"You still with me?" You ask.

He nods.

You're cradled chest to chest, his heartbeat as steady and alive as ever. He pulls out slowly, admiring the mess between your thighs. Even in his sobering state he finds you truly beautiful. From the way your skin glints with sweat to the way you run your tongue over your parched lips. You stretch out, trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs. You’re certain you’ll be sore in the morning.

Nanami disappears into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water. What you could really use is a shower.

If you want, he'll never mention this again. He's starstruck by your naked form, his cum dripping down your thighs. Part of him wants to see you like this every night. But that might still be the pollen talking.

He's sputtering out an apology; stringing words together in hopes of begging for your forgiveness.

"I didn't think that's how it'd happen," you say, shrugging, "but…"

You really can't complain. Everyone but Nanami seemed to realize how head over heels you were for each other.

"You… liked it?" He asks.

If you didn't like it, he would know. Nanami can't believe it.

"Minus the nearly dying part." You say. "I've spent the past year and a half trying to get in your pants. So yeah."

Instantly his face turns red. How has he not noticed? He's both mortified, and relieved that you feel the same—or at least similar to him. Then the embarrassment hits him. He didn't think he could be more embarrassed than he was standing naked in your living room.

"I'm gonna go shower." You say. He gives a nod in response, stopping dead in his tracks when you say: "join me."

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #nanami kento #not sfw #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #cw sex pollen #cw dub con #i know im posting this kinda early but im impatient and i just want to post this now

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story Pt 19 - Sci Fi

The new part is here. I've struggled with this story a little bit recently, but I wanted to continue this, to share it with you.

Master Post linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

“Bel…”

“BEL!”

The world around me was pitch black, empty except for voices I didn't recognize, shouting a name I couldn't remember. I blinked, trying to clear my vision without success.

“Hello?” My anxious shout faded into the nothingness around me.

“I have to do it, Bel. It’s how the story goes.” A blurry figure stood in front of me, his facial features unclear behind his blond hair, but his tone contained frustration and regret. “You know what happens to a world when the story is incomplete. Sacrifices have to made.”

“Who are you…?”

“That’s our fate, we just have to accept that.” He faded away into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

“Come back! Explain what you meant!” I screamed at the disappearing figure. “WHAT SACRIFICE? WHAT FATE?!”

"YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE."

“Are you lost?” A new voice spoke up, strange, yet completely and utterly familiar.

I spun around, but there was no one behind me. “I’m… I’m lost.”

“No matter where you go, who you become… I’ll find you, Bel. I promise.” The voice was a whisper in my ear. “Fate can’t tear us apart. I won’t let it. Even if I have to destroy fate itself.”

“But I can’t find you. I don’t remember who you are!” I was crying, my tears disappearing into the surrounding mist.

“I’ll find you.” The words were quieter, as if the owner of the voice was fading away.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!”

“I promise.”

“NOT AGAIN!”

"You must accept your fate."

"Bel..."

"You must.."

“…I promise…”

_________________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up, screaming a name that disappeared from my mind as soon as the sound as faded, tears and sweat staining my cheeks.

I curled up into a ball, my head resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

Who am I?

Finding no answers, I eventually steadied my nerves, getting up, showering and changing. I looked up at the clock on the wall, wincing as I realized that I was running late for class.

Great, now I’m going to miss breakfast, and I'm starving.

I put on my uniform jacket, lamenting silently my lack of time to fill my empty stomach. As I left my dorm, however, my eye caught something sitting on the floor right outside my door. It was a small plate with a peeled apple and a note with Alaira’s name on it.

I thought Alaira was supposed to be loner… This has to be a trap, right?

It had been several weeks since I woke up in this strange world. It couldn’t be more obvious that she didn’t have any true friends or allies. No one who would care enough to send breakfast, definitely.

Maybe it’s from whoever has been following me around?

Since the second day, I had noticed a shadowy presence following me at a distance. Whoever it was, they never attempted to try to speak to me, or interfere with me in ay way. But it was always nearby, always watching.

So now they’ve upgraded to leaving me food?

I picked up the apple, looking around, and scanned it with the personal computer on my wrist, which showed no drugs or other abnormalities.

Well… I am hungry, which outweighs the possible grim outcome of death by poison, I suppose.

Shrugging mentally, I took a bite. The taste was sweet. I sighed with satisfaction and took another bite. As I chewed, a thought occurred to me, confusing me all the more.

How did they know I like peeled apples?

As far as I could remember, Alaira had never liked apples. It was considered an ancient fruit, more of an oddity than a dietary staple. She had tried it once or twice and hadn’t been impressed.

But I liked it…

I liked apples a lot… but only peeled ones. It was something almost instinctive I had felt whenever I thought about the fruit. But… I hadn’t eaten any apples since I woke up as Alaira.

So how do they know? Does this sci fi story come with mind readers?

I took another bite, feeling confused.

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?”

The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

I shrugged, taking a bite. “You try living as a princess in a lower fantasy realm. I bit into a poisoned apple once and the inside was glowing green.” I shuddered. “Ever since then I can’t stand to bite into an apple with the peel still on.”

The man had already started peeling another fruit, and paused in his actions. “Did the prince have to kiss you to break the spell?”

“Why, are you jealous?” I grinned.

“N-no… I’m just asking.” His head hung down, as he seemed to stare intently into the apple in his hands.

I patted his head. “I took an antidote ahead of time. Didn’t fall asleep. Instead, I beat the crap out of the witch.”

He laughed at that. “Didn’t you get in trouble for changing things?”

“Of course. But it was so worth it.”

_________________________

I stared down at the partially eaten fruit in my hands, feeling overwhelmed at the memories surging through my mind.

I keep seeing these memories, but I can’t connect them to anything. What are these lower realms? Is that what I’m in right now? Who is this person I keep seeing?

I felt incomplete, a large part of my memories, my emotions, were missing. What was worse, I wasn’t even sure what was gone, what I should be sad about losing.

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

“Alaira.” A voice called out, stopping me in my tracks. Turning, I sighed with odd sense of disappointment at the person standing before me.

Who was I expecting?

I forced a grin and made a rude gesture. “Hey Chris, how awful to see you this morning! Terrible of you to stop by.” I checked my personal communicator and shrugged. “Fortunately for me, I’m running late and have no time for your nonsense. So we’ll save your annoying ranting and raving for a later date, okay?”

He ignored my words, stepping closer with an excited look. “Have you heard the news?”

“Even if I say yes, you’re still going to tell me, right?”

“Don’t pretend, it’s not fooling anyone!” He glared at me. “You’ve been hoping to trap me as your Connector since the match results came back!”

I sighed. “At this point, it’s not even funny anymore. What can I say that will possibly convince you that that is NOT the case?”

“You won’t be able to stop my dreams, Alaira! Next time I’m going to win!”

“Yes, you’re the absolute greatest.” I rolled my eyes. “I cry myself to sleep each night over the fact that we aren’t partners, and I will never feel anything in this life but anguish and despair… now can I go to class?”

He looked ever angrier at my sarcasm. “Just wait until the next match. You’ll see that I’m good enough to be a Guardian. Because I’ve got…”

“Okay, buddy. Sounds good.” I interrupted, walking away.

“Wait, you didn’t finish listening…”

“Yep. See you next match.”

I left him behind, ignoring his rage induced sputtering.

Met an idiot first thing... but hey, at least I'm not hungry anymore!

_________________________

A few days later, the next round of mock Mech battles began.

As the winner of the prior fight, I was slated to go first, completing the first four battles with relative ease. As the day wore on, however, the drain on my body from using the Mech was increasing exponentially. Fortunately I was on my last scheduled fight of the day… even if this was the hardest so far.

A light headache was throbbing at my temples as I scanned the field around me. The arena stood as a large stadium, featuring a high-class barrier shield that extended up to twenty stories in the air. Hundreds of seats surrounded the fighting field, all equipped with holo screens that played the footage taken by the referee bots floating around the fight.

The excited screams from the audience were slightly muffled by the protective screen, and the remaining noise was filtered out as I focused on the fight ahead of me.

My opponent this time was a third year A level Guardian, an experienced fighter, who fought along side a D level Connector. Alaira had faced off with them multiple times in the past, and she had always struggled to win despite the difference in strength of abilities.

There was no denying the advantage that a Connector brought to the fight.

I grinned, ignoring the draining sensation of operating my Mech, the headache and weakness that quickly came on each time I made the Connection. The pain was severe, like a knife stabbing through my eye, but I forced myself to ignore it. As I fought, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a Connector.

Each day I went to the Matching Center. Each day I endured the laughter, the stares, the whispers and pointing. Each day I was faced with the same words: “No match available.”

Do I need to come up with a different plan? But I can’t fight the Hive without a Mech, and I can’t operate a Mech without a Connector… unless I want to slowly destroy my mind like Alaira did.

I sighed, not seeing any easy answers, and focused on the fight ahead of me. Although I had Alaira’s memories, and operating the Mech came as almost second nature with my S level alpha waves, I had run into an unexpected obstacle:

Alaira’s weapon of choice had been dual wielding energy pistols.

What a waste of the cool looking sword on my back. My physical body was suspended in the Connection chamber, a shielded globe filled with suspension gel. Although the Mech was controlled through alpha brain waves and the Connection, the closer I was to the Mech, the easier that control was. Thus the space for the Guardian was always in the center of the Mech.

I wore helmeted mask monitoring my vitals such as oxygen saturation and heart rate, adjusting the air composition and breath volume to accommodate my body’s stress reaction during battle. A skintight silver suit covered me, interacting with the gel to provide me physical feedback that the Mech would feel. My vision was shared with my Mech’s video system; I looked down and saw the pistols resting in the robotic hands. It was strange, I was obviously inside the robot, but the sensation of the ground beneath my feet, the guns in my hands, was all too real.

The physical sensation made it easier to fight, but it had an obvious drawback, which was that I felt any blows that my Mech sustained. During the fight I was the Mech, and it was a part of me. I tightened my grip around the energy weapons, feeling tired.

Something felt off about using these as my weapons.

I still had no memories about my past, but as I had practiced with the Mech these past few weeks, I had noticed a familiarity with fighting and battles, even more than what Alaira had in my memories after a lifetime of training at home with her father and then in the academy.

Am I some kind of warrior or something?

It didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t explain the comfortable sensation of judging my opponent and fighting with them. But that comfort and familiarity did not extend to dual wielding pistols.

I just wasn’t a great shot.

We had already been fighting for ten minutes. My headache had worsened and I felt tired, but I had only managed to score a few hits on non-vital areas. The only benefit was that the opposing Mech had only been able to strike me twice with the energy-enhanced spear he carried.

“You seem a little off today, Alaira, everything all right?” My opponent’s voice came over his speaker, shocking me. It was technically considered bad etiquette to talk during battle, but it was hard to fault him, as he seemed genuinely concerned about my less than ideal fighting state.

I shook my head, raising my pistols once more. “I’m fine, let’s continue.”

I rushed forward, taking advantage of my superior speed and maneuverability to get closer, trying to make it harder to miss my shots. The opposing Mech jumped backwards, but it was too late. Its hand was within my grasp. Turning and using its significant weight to my advantage, I flipped the robot over my own’s shoulder put the barrel of my gun against the metal head.

My final shot through its temple destroyed the key mechanisms within it, rendering it immobile and finishing the fight.

That was too close… I’ve been practicing with the pistols since I’ve woken up in this strange world, and seen no improvement… what am I doing wrong?

As the referee called out my victory, I backed away, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been a harder fight than it should have been, but at least it was over.

I need a nap.

“I WANT TO CHALLENGE ALAIRA!”

An extremely annoying voice spoke up, causing my already bad headache to worsen.

... Why me?

I turned towards the speaker. “Chris. Didn’t we agree that we were going to avoid each other? … Or was that just my wishful thinking?”

His all white Mech landed in front of my own, holding a large, oversized sword. He swung it back and forth, and although I couldn’t see his facial expressions, the smug tone of his voice through the Mech’s speakers were enough to make me wish I could make my Mech roll its eyes.

“Surely the legendary S level Guardian Alaira isn’t SCARED to fight with a mere D level Guardian such as myself, right?”

“Guardian Chris, please retract your challenge. Guardian Alaira has already finished five consecutive mock battles, and needs time to recover.” The instructor’s face was stern on the holographic screens around us, leaving no room for disagreement.

Chris laughed mockingly. “Oh, I thought she said that even with all the advantages and luck she could still beat me? I guess it was just empty arrogance.” His Mech shook its head. “With such a weak personality, no wonder you can’t find a Connector to match you. Who would want to endure such a woman?”

“…”

CLANG!

My Mech’s foot connected with the other’s crotch, and I heard a high-pitched squeal of pain. Ha, shared sensation with the Mech comes in handy sometimes.

“How dare you?!” His pained shout made me grin.

“Less talking, more fighting. I accept your challenge, Chris.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of my head splitting apart, as well as the light ringing in my ears. I had reached the limit of how long I could safely operate the Mech.

But the sound of his smug satisfaction infuriated me.

Every night, I was haunted by nightmares. Sometimes it was fragments of memories of unfamiliar worlds and people. Most nights, however, I dreamt of Alaira’s end. Alone, broken, terrified, a horrific death for a lonely girl.

And this idiot had watched it happen.

It might not be smart, but I just really want to beat him up. I took a stance, brandishing the pistols, feeling off kilter once more at the light weight in both of my hands.

In the meantime Chris had recovered from his inconvenience, and had resumed his taunting. “Oh, yeah, you ran away so fast the other day, I never got to share with you the good news:” He paused for what I assumed was dramatic effect. “I matched with a Connector earlier last week.”

He obviously meant this to be a huge blow to me, but Alaira’s memories had already warned me this would happen. A beautiful young woman, one of the many who competed for Chis’s affection. This one is a princess… Ilene, I think?

Unbidden, my mind was filled with the thought of the serious, quiet Prince William. I hadn’t seen him since that first day in front of the matching center. So he would be her brother?

I felt a moment of concern at his absence, and then confused, I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I had no reason to see him. Why would I worry about a stranger? Shrugging, I waved casually to Chris’s Mech.

“I welcome the princess to the battle. Sorry you’re on the losing team!”

“…”

There was a moment of shocked silence. “You already know?!”

I winced at Chris’s ear piercing shriek. “Know and don’t care.”

“But… I have a Connector.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“So I won’t be YOUR Connector!”

I sighed. “We’ve long established that. Look, buddy, it’s been a long day and I’m really tired, are you gonna keep talking about your boring personal life, or are we gonna try to crush each other with massive robots?”

“... Fine then! Keep pretending you don’t care!” Chris seemed really upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction from me, but fortunately turned his attention to the battle as well.

As the hologram around us signaled the start to the fight, he raised his sword and moved towards me, but I had already moved behind him.

BAM!

A shot hit his shoulder, blowing large metallic pieces into the air. I frowned, frustrated. I was faster and stronger than him, but my shots just weren’t going where I wanted them to.

Chris ‘s Mech turned around to face, me, the oversized sword’s momentum swaying the robot from side to side. His movement accuracy and speed had tripled from our last encounter. Clearly, he and his Connector were well matched, well over the required 50%.

But I was still faster.

I ducked under his blow, aiming upwards at his elbow and firing another couple shots.

BAM! BAM!

I missed. Cursing, I recovered, dodging another blow as I increased the distance between us.

Stupid guns.

_________________________

A young man threw up his hands, clearly frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn? Every single world you insist on using a sword. We were in a laser battle for goodness sake!”

“Swords are more dependable.”

“Oh come on…”

“Plus I’m a terrible shot.”

He sighed. “Fine. But what if one day you don’t have me watching your back?”

“It will be fine.” I grinned. “Don’t you love saying that everything is according to fate? Maybe a sword is just mine?”

“... It doesn’t work like that.”

_________________________

A brief memory flashed in my mind, confusing me.

During my distraction, Chris’s Mech tried to strike again. With no time to dodge, I raised my gun, blocking the blow with the barrel. The weapon cracked under the edge of the sword. I pushed him back, relying on my superior strength and jumped backwards, throwing away the broken weapon in my hand. Glancing down at the remaining gun I had, I felt a warm liquid drip from my nose. It was bleeding, a sign of the increasing strain of the Connection.

I was breaking down. I wouldn't last the rest of the fight.

I had to surrender.

Screw that!

I holstered my remaining gun, drawing the large sword on my Mech’s back. As I held it in front of me, I suddenly felt at home, completely comfortable, as if I had held a sword many times before. I stared at Chris’s Mech, feeling excited.

Now, this feels like a fight!

I raced forward, swinging my sword in a horizontal strike.

_________________________

I was standing in a group of zombies, my sword cutting through the neck of the closest monster.

_________________________

Chris dodged, stumbling backwards. I used the momentum of my first swing to smoothly transition into a downward slash.

_________________________

I was an elf, dancing in the forest, my blade striking down shadowy creatures in the midst of a large battle.

_________________________

THUD!

A robotic hand fell to the ground as I cut it off at the wrist. Chris let out a moan of pain, cut short as I controlled my Mech to kick him in the face, knocking him on his back.

_________________________

I was a vampire, holding a sword made of darkness, fighting humans with elegance and grace.

_________________________

Chris tried to stand up but my foot on his chest prevented the movement. I rested the tip of my sword at his Mech’s throat.

“Do you surrender?”

_________________________

“Surrender?” I smiled as I spoke, staring down at the man on the ground. I couldn’t see his face clearly except for his dark blue eyes, which stared at me without a hint of embarrassment despite his defeated position.

“I surrender.” His voice was warm. “You’re pretty amazing with a sword.”

“After all the realms I’ve fought through? I would have to be.” I shook my head. “Don’t you use swords when you travel?”

“I’m not permitted to travel anymore.” He grinned. “I keep refusing to play my role.”

_________________________

I blinked, focusing on the partially destroyed Mech in front of me. Not hearing his answer, I dug the tip into his neck slightly, only stopping when he let out a groan.

“Do. You. Surrender?”

“I surrender.” His answer sounded like it was forced through gritted teeth.

I could hear muted cheers from the crowd behind the shield as the holographic screens around us displayed my name as the victor.

“Good.” I moved my sword and turned away. My body felt drained, every muscle screaming in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my head hurting worse with each passing second.

“I’LL BEAT YOU ONE DAY!” Chris called out behind me. “I’LL GET STRONGER, AND I’LL SHOW YOU!”

“Tell it to someone who cares.” I didn’t turn around, and left the arena.

At least I won. Now if my head would just stop hurting...

As soon as I reached the docking area, my legs crumpled beneath me, and my world faded into darkness.

_________________________

Where am I?

I woke up in a white room, on a plain, clean bed, wearing a hospital gown.

This isn’t a different world, is it?

I carefully searched my memories, but didn’t feel anything different. I sighed, realizing I must be in the school infirmary. In my memories of her life, Alaira had helped bring her fellow students there in the past, but had never stayed to be examined. Deep down she had known that without a Connector she was breaking down, and was afraid the school would prevent her from fighting.

It might have saved her life if she had.

I sat up, rubbing my forehead tiredly. It was still throbbing.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke up, startling me.

I jumped, looking to the chair beside my bed, where a dark haired young man sat. His dark blue eyes studied me carefully, his face expressionless.

“…Prince William?”

“…” After a long silence, he nodded slowly.

“What are you doing here?”

He stared down at the floor silently, and just when I thought he might not respond, he reached out, handing me a peeled apple.

I took it, feeling dazed. “Umm… thanks.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, asked the question on my mind. “Were you the one leaving food outside my dorm room then?”

“…hmm.” His gaze never left the ground.

What the heck kind of answer is “hmm”?!!

“How did you know I like peeled apples?”

“…” A look of genuine confusion crossed his face, but quickly disappeared as he shrugged silently.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” I pushed myself up, trying to swing my legs to the side of the bed.

He stood up, his face concerned. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my head hurts, but otherwise I feel great.”

“…You should rest.” He frowned as he looked me over.

“It’s just strain from a prolonged connection.” I sighed. “I’m used to it.”

“You haven’t matched?” He seemed mixed, as if happy and disappointed at the same time.

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though. ” I looked him over. “Are you a Connector? Have you matched yet?”

“I…” A look of agony distorted his features.

“He can’t. He’s broken.”

A young woman stood at the door of the infirmary, a mocking smile on her face.

I studied the newcomer carefully. She had long black curls framing a heart shaped face, and large blue eyes that looked down on me with pride. Given the similarities in features to Prince William next to me, it wasn’t difficult to figure out her identity.

“I’m assuming you’re Princess Ilene?”

She ignored my words, walking closer to her brother, whose face had become expressionless once again.

“He can’t Connect. His mental barrier is too strong.” She stopped a few feet away from him and raised her hand, knocking on what looked to be empty air. It made a solid noise, her hand stopping at the same invisible point. “He can’t put it down even if he wants to.”

I thought back to the first time I met him, remembering people being pushed aside.

“A useless Connector who can’t make the connection. A Guardian who can’t match. Two failures together.” She smiled at me. “Sorry I took away your only possible chance at matching Chris, but you needed to see the reality of the situation. He’s a better Guardian than you.”

“…Remind me again who ended up flat on their back at the end of the last fight?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at my comeback. “At least he will be around a long time to help fight the Hive. You, on the other hand.” Ilene pointed at her head and turned her finger in a circle. “You have no future. But on the bright side, at least my useless brother can keep you company while your mind slowly breaks apart.”

BAM

William stood up, angry, and with the loud sound of an impact, Ilene was pushed by an invisible barrier out of the room. Her face enraged, she slammed her fists against it while her mouth made motions as if she was shouting. I stared at her, confused as to why I couldn’t hear her.

“…I sealed her out of the barrier.” William whispered. “Her voice can't make it through either.”

“Oh.” I nodded with satisfaction, watching her shout silently outside the doorway. “Thanks.”

“I can expand the barrier… but she’s right… I can’t drop it.” His eyes dropped down to the floor again. “I can’t Connect… I can’t help Guardians… useless…” His voice slowly dropped in volume, until it was barely a whisper.

“Well, you’re helping me out right now, and I’m a Guardian. So I’d say you’re a pretty useful guy.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I know that not hearing her is already making my day better.”

He stared at me silently for a few moments. “… Are you hungry?”

“Kind of. Why? Do you have more apples or something?”

William shook his head. “No… cake.”

“Please tell me you are serious.”

He solemnly set a container with a piece of cake on the table next to me, along with a napkin and utensils.

I stared at it in shock, motionless.

“… Do you not like it?” His nervous tone broke me out of my stupor. I quickly reached out and held the container close, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

“Oh, this is amazing… totally worth passing out after my fight.” I took a few more bites, noting him relaxing visibly as I showed my enjoyment. “…Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?”

“Why?” William blinked, looking shocked as if he hadn’t considered it before.

“Yeah. As far as I can tell, I haven’t met you outside of running into you in the hallway once. Why go out of your way to leave me food and sit by me in the infirmary?”

He finally looked up, his dark blue eyes staring into my own. “…I’m not sure. “ He shrugged. “Whenever I see you, I feel happy. I want to help you.”

I leaned back against the backboard of the infirmary bed. “Well… I guess I could always use a friend.”

“Friends?” A trace of a smile crossed his face, before it disappeared into expressionless once more. “Really?”

“Yeah. So let me introduce myself officially, Prince William.” I started to reach out a hand to shake, but remembering his barrier, I pulled it back. “I’m Alaira. Level S Guardian but unable to match, and your new friend.”

He stared at my hand with a look of regret before looking back up. “I’m a Level S Connector… but can’t connect. I’m your new friend… “ He hesitated. “Can you call me a nickname instead?”

“Sure.”

“Then call me… Liam.”

_________________________

“Are you lost?” I woke up in a strange world to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, laying on my back, confused.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes, smiling despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam.”

_________________________

I blinked away the memory, smiling at the timid young man in front of me. “Nice to meet you… Liam.”

#writing #please fix the story #sci fi #world hopping #memory loss #giant robots #aliens #more memories #call back to the peeled apples from the zombie arc if anyone remembers that far back #so happy to post this part finally. #weight off my chest

[brekkerism]

Strange Addiction(Spencer Reid One-Shot)

A/n: So, this is my fic for the lovely @andiebeaword in the swap fics event that my lovely @imagining-in-the-margins hosted, and it was a blast writing it. Pom also was my beta, as always, and also the sweet @definitelynotkatesblog. This was super fun to write, and I hope y’all like it!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Rating: 18+

Content warning: hinted age gap, smut, cunnilingus, professor!Spencer, angst, misunderstandings and fluff. I think that’s all.

******

I don’t know much about addiction, but if I had to guess, I thought it would feel something like this.

When his hair falls in his face, and his hands are so warm they manage to stop me from shaking.

When his lips taste like coffee and the way he insists on sleeping over, even if we both know he’ll never hold me until the morning.

Craving something that is slowly killing you, refusing to give it up.

It’s an addiction. It has to be.

Or maybe I’ve gone mad. ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.’ ’ I could hear it in his voice, telling me that “actually the quote was never linked to Einstein formally, but-“

I had to stop it. I had to stop myself, and put an end to it. It’s been weeks since we saw each other, it’s the perfect time to end-

Ding.

“I miss you. Can we see each other today?”

A few words on a text.

That’s all it took.

Well. It’s supposed to be bad to stop cold turkey right?

******

He spilled coffee on me the first time we met. It was on one of the campus coffee stands and I was already having a shitty day. I would have been furious if I had the strength for it.

“FUCK!” Burning. Hot coffee burning it’s way down my chest.

“Are you okay?” The stranger that had spilled his unnecessarily hot cup of coffee in me said.

“Dude?! It’s fucking hot!” I tried to pull my dress away from my body, to try and stop the burning in some way.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just saw this bird and it reminded me of someone and I got distracted and-“

“Please get me some napkins.” I cut him off promptly.

He did, and tried to help me clean up before realizing it was all over my breasts, and it really wouldn’t help his situation to touch me there.

“Again I’m so sorry. Uhm, whats your name? I can pay for your dress or if you’re hurt I can take you to the infirmary.”

“My name is girl you burned the tits of.” I snapped. “And I’m fine, don’t worry that much.” I finally looked up at him, with his suit, his fluffy hair and the scruff. Cute. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” A professor then? Hot, older, professor. Wait, didn’t I hear something about this?

“Well doctor, you can just buy me a coffee and some pastries and, we’ll be even. Then you can go on your merry way and forget about the totally embarrassing afternoon that you spilled coffee all over a girl.” And maybe you can be so sorry that you slide me your number or something. A girl can hope.

I could have forgotten the whole thing. But he was himself: totally apologetic and cute, so tall and handsome, and his eyes-

I accepted his apology, and the coffee he bought me to make up for it, and we parted ways.

And if I went to my dorm and immediately tried to find out who he really was, it wasn’t completely weird right?

And yeah, maybe I sneaked into one of his classes, just to see what all the gossip and fuss was about (like I didn’t already know) but it didn’t start because of that.

******

It started way later at a bar. It’s not like I sought him out, maybe I had been going out a lil more than I used to in hopes that maybe, just maybe...

And then it happened. He was there, sitting at the corner of the bar sipping from his glass. Freshly out of class and all alone. The fucking universe. A chance to talk to him.

He was up from his seat, going for a refill at the bar when I rose from my seat before I even had time to come up with a plan or say goodbye to my friends, making a beeline to his direction.

Maybe it was the universe conspiring against us, or for us, because before I could tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, someone bumped into me sending me with force so that I would collide directly into him.

I luckily grabbed onto his suit jacket, stabilizing myself before I could do something stupid like fall to the floor and make a spectacle of myself.

He turned towards me, finally looking at who shoved him forward, and the recognition on his face was like relief washing over me.

“So, are you just gonna stare at me or will you buy me another apology-drink?” I tried my best to be charming and pretty, to keep his attention on me.

“Well this time I didn’t spill on you, so I don’t think I owe you one.” His smile. Fuck. He had a great smile.

“Okay. I’ll buy you one then.” I called over the bartender, getting him his scotch refill and something for me. Before he had the chance to do anything, I was taking the drinks back to his table. We wordlessly sat down and drank from our glasses.

“Should I ask why you went to one of my classes?”

Oh. oh. He saw that.

“Should I ask why you didn’t kick me out?”

“I asked first.”

“And I still don’t want to answer.” I pretended to inspect my shoes, racking my brain for ways to keep him here, talking to me. “Why are you drinking tonight?”

“You know, you ask a lot of questions for someone who won’t answer any of mine.”

“It’s part of my charm. So, what’s the reason?”

“What?” He did this cute thing with his nose, kinda scrunching it up, and he never stopped licking his damn lips, and maybe it was the alcohol in my system but I wanted to see how he tasted.

“There’s not that many reasons to be drinking alone at a sad college bar. You either have a problem with booze, can’t get a date, are drowning your sorrows, or trying to forget something.”

“Why don’t you try to guess?”

“Hm.” I leaned back on my seat to study him, using it as an excuse to look him head to toe. ”You’re both too put together and uncomfortable enough in this setting to have a problem. You’re too hot and have like, a billion college girls trying to get in your pants, so it’s not the date thing. You don’t look melancholic enough to be drowning your sorrows, especially with that choice of drink. So, who are you trying to forget, then?”

“Can’t a man just want to get a drink?” He chuckled.

“But that option would be no fun.” I could feel myself pouting and my cheeks getting warmer. Maybe it was the alcohol catching up to me.

“Well, it’s suiting, since I’m no fun.”

“That’s a lie. I’m talking to you and I’m having a blast” it was a joke on his part, but the way he said it sounded upset. Truthful. I wanted to make it go away.

“Kinda sad if this is your definition of a blast.” It sounded like a joke, but the way he said it... he sounded upset. I wanted to make it go away.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re hot. Who knows.”

“That's the second time you called me that.” He said it suspiciously, like he doubted that I really thought that.

“Can’t help it if it’s true.” I’m ridiculously attracted to you, I thought. Can you please realize that soon?

“What about you. What are you doing here?”

“Same reason as you.” Lies. Little liar. I’m here because I have been waiting and hoping to see you again, somewhere, anywhere.

“To drink cheap scotch?”

“To forget.” I’m so fucked up. I’m lying to the guy for what? So he can relate? That’s so stupid.

“Who is he?”

“Who is she?”

“She’s... A friend.” Oh. So there was a she. Shit. But that meant... was he looking for a rebound? A shoulder to cry on?

“Some guy I met at college.” You.

“Wow, an answer from you.”

“Wild, right? Next you’ll ask me my name and I’ll actually give it to you.”

“Your name isn’t actually ‘girl you burned the tits of’? Shocking.”

“No, I could only hope to be named something as elegant as that.” He laughed at that. If I could bottle up the sound, I would. Hell, I wanted it as my new ringtone. “C’mon, that’s what you laugh at?”

The night kept moving, and I learned little things, like that he worked for the FBI, his socks were mismatched, he didn’t blush at my dirty jokes after a while, and he was exceptionally bad at taking shots, but exceptionally good at magic tricks. It was nice. It was more than nice. It caused my face to flush and made my knees go weak.

“You should tell me your name now.” The seriousness in his voice made something inside me tremble, and warmth rose up deep in my guts.

“W-why?”

“Because I won’t fuck you if I don’t know your name.” Finally. Fucking finally.

He was giving me a out. If I wanted, I could just say ‘no, thanks.’ and walk away.

Jokes on him if he thought I would give up that easy.

“(Y/n). My name is (y/n).” He took a shuddering breath in, lowered his hands down to my upper thigh and squeezed.

“Go to the second to last stall in the bathroom and wait.” There was no room in his voice for questioning. I did it anyways.

“Here?”

“Here.” He confirmed with a firm nod, his eyes never leaving mine.

We were both too desperate for it.

And it happened. In the second to last stall of a dirty bathroom, with him fucking me against the door and whispering dirty things in my ear. It was perfect, it was fucking heaven. It made me crave.

It happened again in my dorm room. Again and again. And then in his apartment. In his empty office. In my car. In his car. Not as frequently as I like, with his job at the FBI and teaching, but more than it should be for what we had. We weren’t in a relationship. We were just fuck buddies. And yeah, maybe he also gave me his time with the sex, with the sweet words, the occasional lunches and the not-dates to his favorite bookstore, but it didn’t mean anything. Six months in, and he didn’t seem any more over the mysterious girl he had loved for decades.

He was just using me to get over the woman he truly loved. The young college girl who he thought was also in love with someone else was the easiest choice. The least messy.

But it was messy. Because there was nobody else. There was just him. He was the one I was in love with.

I was trying to get over Spencer Reid, by sleeping with Spencer Reid.

Funny, right?

******

I didn’t have to knock twice at his door.

He hugged me as soon as he opened it. I melted into him, like I always did. He smelled like coffee and home to me.

“Rough day?” I asked.

“Rough week. Rough month.” Yeah, I think I know the feeling.

“Can I help?”

“Always. You always help.” He said softly.

Stop saying things like that. Stop making me feel like this.

“Come here little girl.” He led us to his bedroom, sitting on the bed and guiding me to his lap. It felt safe. Felt loving. “You’re always so pretty for me. So good. You don’t even know how much I.... how much I want you.”

He took my dress off with ease, kissing a wet trail from my face, to my neck, to my tits. I wanted his hands everywhere, I wanted him to touch me, to make me forget why I ever considered stopping this.

“You’re gonna be good for me right? You’ll be a perfect girl?” Always. Just for you.

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl.”

His girl. I was his. I will always be his.

He just wasn’t mine.

I swallowed back the tears and tried to push down the lump in my throat. He needed me and I wanted to please him, to be good, to show him how much I loved him with this.

He always knew how to work my body, and this moment was no exception. Always knew how to make me go crazy with a swipe of his tongue on my pussy, a finger curling inside me, a thumb circling my clit. Sometimes I thought he was the only one that knew me at all. I was probably right.

The orgasm built and built and built, and I couldn’t do anything but hold on to his hair and smother him between my thighs while I rode it out. He was perfect. It was perfect.

I wanted it forever.

Tears. Pooling on the corners of my eyes, rolling down, no matter how hard I tried to blink them away.

It was killing me.

I loved him. Three little words. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you-

“I love you.” It felt natural rolling off my tongue. It felt okay. The world would still spin if he knew I love him. I might not have him anymore, but it would be okay.

“W-what did you just say?” He rose from his place between my legs, the frown on his forehead and his shaking hands making me just as nervous as he was.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re... Why are you sorry?” That was the part he was worried about?

“Because I didn’t mean to. I know you can’t love me back. I’m sorry.” I retreated from him, bracing myself as tight as I could. Maybe I could use his shock to my advantage; dress quickly and leave. There wouldn’t be any awkwardness or tears or rejection-

He was kissing me. He was kissing me, coaxing my mouth open with his tongue, holding on to me like I would disappear if he didn’t ground me to him.

“We’re so stupid. I’m so, so stupid.” He was saying the words in between kisses, like he couldn’t take the time to pull away from me and actually talk.

What was happening?

“How can you not know? I thought you knew, I thought that was the whole reason-“ more kisses now, all over my face and my mouth.

“Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Listen to me. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now.” He was holding my face in his hands.

I must have gotten into a car accident on the way to his apartment. I was dead, or dreaming, or hallucinating.

He loved me?

He loved me.

“I thought the reason you were pulling away from me is because you knew, because I’m a shitty liar when it comes to you, and I don’t know how to hide how desperately in love with you I am.” He continued to ramble and I almost couldn’t keep up. I felt like I was inside a dream. “I was so sure you still loved the guy from your school, and I didn’t want to risk losing you, losing us, so I didn’t tell you. I’m so dumb.”

“But... but what about her? The woman you love? Your friend?”

“She’s just that: a friend. I think because we never had a shot at having a romantic relationship, I idealized it for so long. I thought that it was love. But I met you. I got to know you. I got to love you. This is love. Whatever I felt for her doesn’t come close.“

Blissful. I felt blissful. I felt like the universe gave me everything I wanted all at once.

“I love you. I’ve loved you since I met you.” I get to say it. I get to say it, I get to love him, and have him.

I needed him. Now. I needed to make love to him, needed to be his.

We kissed for too long, slow and sweet and perfect. When he drove himself inside my body, he looked into my eyes and told me how good I was for him, how much he loved me. When I came, it was with his name on my lips. It was everything. It was impossible for someone to be so right for me. He was everything.

We laid next to each other, too needy to not be touching every moment possible. My legs tangled between his, my hand in his.

Everything was out in the open, and we were together.

Except…

“Spence…”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the guy at college that I liked? The one I was trying to get over?”

“Yes” his tone was tentative, like he halfway expected me to take back all that was said between us.

“He... kinda doesn’t exist. Well, he also kinda does, but I think it might be you.” He was silent, and for a moment I thought he fell asleep and didn’t hear me.

“…Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised” there wasn’t any anger in his tone whatsoever, and the last of my worries was gone.

“Still love me?”

“Always, pretty girl.”

And I guess that was more than okay.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid one shor

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Epilogue)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3498 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: This is it 🥺🥺 I’m so sad we’re at the end but I couldn’t be happier by all of your reactions, even when things weren’t at their best I loved hearing your screams. Now we can all cry together as we say goodbye. Thank you so much for reading their story. Btw I started a Patreon for those who would like to support me. 

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 25 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Breath fogs the window as you stare out of it, a grey haze has rolled over the city, the sky a sunless landscape of thick clouds and cold winds. It snowed the other day and what remains on the streets has become soot covered or murky slush. It’s nicer to stare at the white dusting on the branches of the trees below, taking in the soft peace of the afternoon.

The world has grown quieter over the past few weeks, your world at least. You can’t say the same for the hoards of people in Times Square, packed like sardines as they count down the hours for the ball to drop.

Graduation was behind you. Nearly two weeks ago you finally crossed that stage to receive your diploma. Technically the real one was still coming in the mail but it’s the symbolism that counted. All of your friends cheered as your name was called, tears of joy and relief welling up in your eyes as you did it– you finally did it!

Wanda hugged you tight afterwards, both of you letting your tears fall. She adjusted your graduation cap, decorated with a lightning bolt for Pietro. It was the first thing you did when you received your garments, to make sure a part of him was with you on such an important day. You left her arms for Peggy and Steve’s, then Sam, Natasha and Clint and then there was Bucky.

He grabbed his crutches, lifting himself up from the chair though you didn’t make him walk. A few steps closed the gap between you and you held him, your arms securing around him as a precaution as he balanced on one leg.

His smile was so beautiful as he murmured, “I’m so proud of you,” holding his gaze before you kissed tenderly, humming against his lips.

You’ve been dating ever since that day in the hospital and life couldn’t be better, especially since you and Bucky laid out some terms. From now on you would always be honest with each other, never holding back your feelings. You were a team who loved and respected each other to talk and more importantly listen.

Bucky managed well on crutches but there were still things he couldn’t do, taking for granted days he could have gone outside for a walk. Sure he had muscles, but his arms were killing him, especially on the days he had to go to the doctor for a checkup. He started physical therapy too, to keep up with strength and flexibility for the rest of his body.

It was exhausting but you were there to help him almost every step of the way. Showering was a pain though Bucky insisted on some independence, wrapping up his cast as he sat on a cold plastic chair that extended over the tub. It made him feel like he had aged 80 years but he got over it.

You did what you could to help him heal but the greatest comfort Bucky found was when you were cuddling together. He cherished those moments the most, when you held him, resting your head against his chest, or when his head was in your lap as he stretched across his couch, your fingers lazily combing through his hair.

It was the quiet moments together, crossing the threshold of intimacy in new ways. This was the slowest Bucky has ever gone since he was in middle school, swallowing a nervous gulp before asking if it was okay to hold a girl’s hand.

Life after had been a blur; his guard up, women in and out, no chance to settle, in and out, no connection, faces blend together, names are nothing more than letters on his phone for a good time, in and out. It was all noise, a constant buzzing in his head until you came into his life.

You’ve opened Bucky’s ears and the noise became sweet music. You’ve opened his heart, the melody it sings is a love song and he’s soaring. He doesn’t waste time on regrets, instead he spends each and every day getting to know you and love you in new ways.  

You celebrated Thanksgiving together, with his parents coming to your apartment so Bucky didn’t have to travel. George brought most of the food over, it wasn’t barbecue but it was just as delicious. And this year you had the time to bake a pumpkin pie.

Your days were spent working at The September Foundation up until graduation. Elena hired you for Metro-General and you start there on the first Monday of the new year. Ideally, you’d like to still volunteer when you can and knowing Tony it’s something he fully supported. Things couldn’t be better.

“Doll, are you ready?”

Bucky’s voice pulled you away from the window and you climb off his bed and into his waiting arms. The basketball shorts he wears reveals his skinny left leg, paler than the other thanks to the dry flakiness he’s still working on remedying. He was in a cast for almost three months and just got it off a few days ago. You went with him, holding his hand as he beared weight on his weak muscle after so long.

He just finished the strengthening exercises he was supposed to do every day and now he needed to shower. You both did actually since tonight was Natasha and Clint’s annual New Year’s Eve party. You pull your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind you and Bucky follows you to the bathroom. He can shower without his seat now but it doesn’t mean he didn’t want help and you happily obliged. The water ran cold by the time you actually finished and you really didn’t mind at all. Now that Bucky’s cast was off you were looking forward to getting even more physical again.

Though you showered at his place you finished getting ready at yours since you could. Living next door to your boyfriend was obviously convenient. You were able to be together and still have the space you needed. For now it worked though you can see yourself moving in together. A smile stretches across your face when you think of it, Bucky playing his music, no walls in between, a far cry from how things began.

You open your closet to find a dress that would work for the theme of this year’s party which they claimed was winter except they asked all their guests to wear either red or green. You bit your tongue, thinking that sounded more Christmas than winter but you didn’t argue, it wasn’t your party. You pulled out a crimson colored dress that had a beautiful lace overlay. The back was sheer and though it was a little short you felt it was seasonally appropriate with its long sleeves. You finished your hair and makeup, finishing off with gold chandelier earrings and peep-toe heels.

A rhythmic knock rapped at your door and you knew it was Bucky. Opening the door your jaw dropped. Maybe it was the fact that you had mostly seen him in shorts and sweatpants over the last three months, and not that he didn’t make those look good, but the outfit he was wearing now looked incredible. He looked sharp in a juniper green suit with a soft tartan design, a brighter green patterned tie stood out against his light shirt. His shoes were dark brown with a hint of mahogany that reflected in the light and even though he looked amazing you were surprised he didn’t opt for sneakers to be more comfortable with his leg.

“Fuck, you look beautiful,” he spoke first, biting his lip as he looked at you up and down.

He shaved since you left him and your hands went to cup the smooth skin of his cheek. “Not more beautiful than you.”

You pressed your lips to Bucky’s, deepening the kiss with your tongue which was probably a bad idea since it only increased your urge to rip Bucky’s suit off and take him right there. You forced yourself back from him, walking towards your couch to grab your bag.

Bucky followed you as quickly as he could considering walking still felt a little strange. His arms went around your waist pulling you closer to him as his lips began to kiss your cheek, trailing down your neck. You hummed in delight, exhaling stuttered breaths, almost losing yourself to his touch before you pulled yourself out of it.

“We can’t,” you stressed, reluctantly. “We’re gonna be late, come on.”

He sighed acceptingly, waiting for you to unplug your phone and grab your keys. Just before you were ready to leave his arms wrapped around your waist one more time and Bucky spoke before you could say anything.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The swell of your heart reached your lips as you gazed into Bucky’s eyes repeating the same words you’ve known and felt for so long. After another sweet kiss you locked up your place to take the long trip up one flight.

Clint greeted you at the door, his arms pulling you and Bucky into warm welcoming hugs. Unlike his guests, Clint was dressed in a white suit jacket, with black pants and a matching bow tie. He welcomed you into the apartment that was not filled with as many people as you expected.

There were familiar faces in your friends, including Sam who was able to take off this year. Right away Bucky teased him about his red suit calling him Elmo.

“Yeah whatever Kermit. And what about this one?” Sam teased, pointing at Steve. “That’s all you had?”

Steve blushed pink, feeling insecure about his outfit choice, a cozy forest green cable-knit sweater. “Like I’m supposed to have a fruit punch suit in my closet?”

“It’s cranberry and I look good,” Sam declared, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket.

You let the boys continue to have fun as you said hello to Wanda and Peggy, both looking beautiful in their dresses. “Where’s Natasha?”

They shook their heads. “Haven’t seen her,” Wanda said, heading towards their marble island to grab a drink.

It was decorated with a row of mason jars, each filled a quarter of the way with coarse sugar mimicking crystal snow, with a candle in every other one and a chunk of bright red cranberries and sprays of cedar leaves sticking out of the others.

“But we just got here, so I dunno,” she finished.

You were looking around for familiar guests, surely the partners of her law firm would be coming again. An older woman sat on the couch talking to another unfamiliar face, the back of their heads glowing thanks to the curtain of twinkle lights that decorated the large walls of the living room. In the corner was their Christmas tree, a tall spruce decorated with frosted pine cone garland, matte red ornaments and thick burlap ribbon.

Clint brushed passed you, kneeling in front of the older woman who looked curiously familiar. Nervous energy was pouring off of him, from the way he kept chewing his nails to the constant tremble of his leg. He smiled as he passed you again standing near the door. With Natasha still not in sight you decided to do a little digging, by way of introducing yourself.

You walked over to the woman Clint had been speaking to, standing in front of her and the two people she was mid-conversation with. The man was big, his Santa-like belly was testing the buttons of his red shirt as it stretched across the material. His eyebrows were bushy and his brown hair was long in the front, looking a little messy as if it had been brushed through with only his fingers. He had a long beard that matched the color of his hair though it had a lot more grey in it.

The woman was beautiful. The emerald top she wore brought out the green flecks of her hazel eyes and her red lips drew you right into her beautiful smile. Her dark hair was braided with a crown, the rest of the locks falling onto her shoulders.

You caught their attention, extending your hand with a smile as you introduced yourself. The older woman spoke first, her voice as soft as a songbird as she told you her name, Edith, followed by the fact that she was Clint’s mother. Well, that explains it. You see the similarities now, the glasses she wore didn’t hide the fact that they shared the same eyes. Even her mouth was the same, thin lips that grew into the same beaming smile.

“I’m Melina,” the beautiful woman said with a Russian accent. “This is Alexei.” She pointed to the man who smiled at you. His grip was strong as he took your hand in his meaty paw. “We’re like family to Natalia,” he grinned proudly.

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” you said, sitting beside them to talk all while in the back of your mind your brain was working to put together why they were here. Sure it’s a holiday but family members have never come to Clint and Natasha’s for New Years before. In fact, Natasha doesn’t even have family. The only “family” you knew of would have to come from Russia to–

Holy shit.

You find an acceptable way out of the conversation, rushing over to Bucky and pulling him away from his conversation. Your hands are jittering with excited energy, eyes as wide as your mouth is open.

“Bucky, don’t you see what this is?!”

He looks confused for a moment before his attention is diverted. Bucky looks past you to another unfamiliar person that walked in. It’s a man with brown skin dressed in all black. A dark goatee framed his face and the straps of an eye patch secure comfortably around his hairless head. Though Bucky tried not to stare he couldn’t help but notice the veining of scars stretching out across his temple and cheek. He stands tall and silent with his arms clasped behind his back waiting.

Clint cleared his throat, a nervous smile settling on his face. “Now that everyone’s here I’d like to welcome you to… our wedding.”

Gasps of surprise fill the room with everyone rushing up towards Clint as he tries to field questions, hoping no one was truly mad at the abrupt announcement. “I knew it,” you whispered under your breath, gently slapping at Bucky’s arm.

The man in black walked towards the front of the living room, clearly the officiate who asked everyone to get settled as they were about to begin. Clint knocked once on his bedroom door, before taking his place beside the man who introduced himself as Nick.

A young woman with blonde hair slipped out of the door. She nodded to him, cracking a hint of a smile before she settled next to Melina. A moment later everyone’s eyes were drawn to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open again.

Natasha stepped out looking like a dream, in a floor length shimmering ivory gown that showed off her well sculpted shoulders with its high halter neckline, embellished with beautiful beading. She clutched a delicate bouquet of white roses and winter greens with cranberry sprigs woven throughout. Natasha walked up to Clint without fanfare, just the audible sighs of those around her admiring the back of her dress, dazzling and tasteful cut outs that showed off more of her toned body. The fabric cinched above the small of her back, a small train sweeping around her feet.

She handed her bouquet off to the blonde girl, her “sister” you presumed, remembering an old conversation with Clint. Brushing back a loose tendril from her face, Natasha smiled widely as she stared at Clint, bringing her hands forward to connect with his.

Nick began speaking and you took out your phone to capture a quick picture as the impromptu ceremony began. Bucky’s hand found yours, lacing your fingers together as you watched your friends exchange their vows.

Clint’s hands communicated his words in sync as he spoke them. “Natasha, what more can I say to the person that knows me better than I know myself. Because of you the sun shines a little brighter each day, flowers have a sweeter fragrance and my heart is filled with treasured memories. Even the not so great ones like that time in Budapest that I know we remember very differently.”

A chuckle simmers amongst the small crowd and Natasha dips her head down to laugh.

“Because of you my heart found a home, and like my stomach, it will never be empty...” Clint smiled, taking Natasha’s hands in his. “...because it will always be filled with your love, a love that I promise you I will never let go.”

Natasha sniffs, brushing aside a tear as she gathers her thoughts. “Clint, you’ve given me a second chance in life, you’ve shown me what friendship and love truly mean. I promise to trust and respect you and give you the best of myself. I promise to always fight for you, never against you, to be by your side through whatever life brings. I promise to make sure we always have snacks in the house and to clean up all the stains from your shirts when you drop food on them.”

Clint’s shoulders shrugged with acceptance as he chuckled under his breath, “It happens a lot.”

“Yes it does,” Natasha repeated, smiling wider. She exhaled a deep breath before continuing. “I promise to love you through the good times and bad and to choose our love every single day. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I'm the luckiest person on Earth to be able to call you mine.”

You felt Bucky press a kiss to your temple, leaning his head against you as the ceremony continued. When it was time Alexei dug into his pocket, pulling out the rings. With Nick’s concluding words Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck, and his held her waist; their love sealed with a kiss as everyone cheered in celebration.

They pulled back from each other, Clint resting his forehead against Natasha’s. He brought his hand up, bending his middle and ring finger into his palm. Natasha did the same, their fingertips touching as they signed “I love you” before turning to face their friends and family.

Edith was the first to hug the newly married couple who made their way through everyone until they got to you. Bucky and Clint hugged as he congratulated them. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can.” Natasha laughed, pressing her cheek to Bucky’s as they hugged. She moved to you and you wrapped your arms around her tightly. “We’ve been planning this wedding for so long it was never going to happen unless we did it this way.”

“It was perfect,” you said, pulling back from your hug with a huge smile. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both.”

As the night went on you formally met Yelena, the blonde who Natasha grew up with, and learned about her exciting work. You were in similar fields as she worked to free people of human trafficking, mostly young girls that were to be indoctrinated into radical terrorist groups for forced marriage or even espionage.

Her work was more hands-on as she physically raided underground bunkers or warehouses. It made you feel like you weren’t doing enough even though you knew that wasn’t true. All the years spent working towards your goal reaffirmed that, and in just a few days you’ll officially move into your office in Metro-General, across from Elena’s as you begin doing what you’ve always wanted to do, help people.

You’re lost in a comfortable stare as you look at the Christmas tree, realizing the countdown to midnight had begun.

Ten! Nine! Eight! ...

You turn around, looking for Bucky in the small room that was crowded with everyone standing so close together, huddled around the TV that showed the view from Times Square.

Seven! Six ...

The shimmering ball was descending and you were alone until….

Five! Four! ...

“Hey neighbor…” A voice called and you spun around relieved. Bucky smiled, bringing you close into his arms.

Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

He leaned in, his lips hovering above yours, pausing as you spoke above the roar of cheers. “Have I ever told you how happy I am that you moved in here?” you purred.

“Every day. It’s like music to my ears.”

Bucky smiled tenderly, sealing the small gap between you, kissing you softly as he poured all the love from his heart out and into yours. Your hearts beat to the rhythm of your own symphony, a song that had a rocky beginning of notes that stretched high and low, but now it was a steady ballad you would continue to create together with your love.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff

[retvenkos]

sprinting through cobblestone streets |

The Dragon Prince - Callum, Rayla, and Ezra, x Platonic!Reader, slight fluff requested by @biqherosix​​

tw: a mob, feelings of inadequacy

word count: 2.3k

prompt: “have you always been this idiotic?”

A/N: alright, so i know the request just said callum,,,, and i was going for that originally,,,, but then this happened. i hope you don’t mind? i was going to rewrite it but then it was 2k words and i couldn’t part with it.

Summary: Being half-elf, half-human, there was nowhere that (Y/n) truly belonged. But perhaps their luck would change, when they run into a group of idiotic travelers about to be run down by an angry mob...

Being half-elf in the Human Kingdoms was risky living. (Y/n) had been born on the human side of the Breach, and yet, every day was a danger - a possibility that fear would threaten their very existence. (Y/n) had known very early on how to live as an outsider; they knew how to hide their more telling attributes and how to stay away from towns. They lived in secret, away from everyone else and only stopping into town when necessity called for it, but there was always a low level of risk, to their existence. Not a day passed where (Y/n) wasn't constantly looking over their shoulder; there were always on edge, even in the comfort of their own home.

(Y/n) had been to Xadia once, when their elven parent begged their Queen to take mercy on (Y/n), for they were just a child and a victim to their parent's whims. It wasn't their choice to be half anything - all they had ever wanted was a place to be whole. The Lux Aureans turned them away, and before (Y/n) could return home, they tried to run away.

They had foolishly thought that other elves would take them in - that perhaps Xadia was a more just place than their family had feared.

They had made it far, but not far enough. 

(Y/n) was brought back to the Human Kingdoms with their hood pulled over their head to hide their pointed ears. In Lux Aurea, it had been a horror that they did not have any horns. Here, in this place they would learn to call home, it was a blessing that there was less of them to hide.

(Y/n) had learned long ago to make no friends, to keep their head down and work hard, praying that perhaps, one day, they would be allowed into Lux Aurea as something other than the child of a traitor.

One day, (Y/n)'s parents had woken them in the middle of the night, pressing coin into their hand and telling them that it happened - they had been found, and they had to split up. They had kissed (Y/n) on their forehead, and it was the last they had seen of a friendly face for a year.

(Y/n) had run, only settling down to create roots when they had made it to Katolis - far from where each parent would be. They were careful, in this strange, new kingdom, settling in the thick of a wood where men rarely traveled, preferring to stick to the wider roads. For months, they lived without incident, only visiting villages for supplies twice - walking for days at a time so they weren't seen in the same place twice, and not coming from the same direction.

When supplies were running low once more, (Y/n) took the last of their coin and headed toward a new village - one further away, where no one would know their face. It had been a week's walk, but the burn in their thighs would be worth the protection. They slipped in amongst the crowd easily enough - the day was cold, the seasons changing to something with more of a bite and everyone had a thick cloak on, most of them with a hood pulled up, barely above the eyes. (Y/n) had found a villager to barter with easily enough, and it was when they had almost secured a reasonable deal that they heard the shouts that plagued their worst nightmares.

"You're an elf!"

Their blood ran cold.

(Y/n) had spun on their heel faster than lightning, their hand flying to the dagger they kept strapped to their side. Their heart was pounding with enough force to knock out any attacker they came up against, and despite the fear that struck their heart, (Y/n) kept a cool head. In a crowded marketplace like this, it wouldn't be long until innocent farmers became an angry mob, their ranks full of pitchforks and butcher knives. They expected to worst to greet them, but when (Y/n) turned, the horde of villagers wasn't looking at them at all, but three other travelers, one of which was unmistakably an elf.

"An elf? No way!" One of the travelers - a young boy with messy brown hair, chuckled nervously, projecting his voice in an almost comedic way, trying to wave off the villagers as the group slowly backed up, edging themselves towards the mouth of the street, where they might find a chance of escaping. "We're all very much human, here..."

(Y/n) slipped their bag of coin into their pocket, ducking and weaving through the crowd to edge their way closer to the ostracised group. If (Y/n) could find an outlet, maybe they could sneak off and save their own skin. But if they could create a distraction of some sort and pull the elf and her friends to safety, maybe they could be given some type of reward...

A reward that might earn them a place in Xadia.

 "My human friend is wearing an elven costume! Y'know, for... a play?"

(Y/n) sighed at the lame excuse before pushing over a street cart.

The villagers were startled, caught off guard by the loud crash and apparent destruction, and it was just enough time for (Y/n) to rush forward, seizing the elf's arm and dragging her forward out of the crowd. The boys followed in suit, and together they got a head start, sprinting through the cobblestone streets.

"Hey!"

The villagers got their bearings quick enough and were only more enraged by the idea of a chase. (Y/n) took a sharp turn down the narrow street that they had originally entered into town from, ushering the group forth. A hay cart stood in the middle of the street, and (Y/n) picked up the young boy that held a glow toad by the back of his jacket to help him vault over the obstacle. The other boy from earlier - the one with the terrible excuse, jumped over with a fair amount of success -  the adrenaline mixed with some quick thinking leading him to step on boxes nearby like makeshift steps, making the jump easier to handle. The elf jumped over with remarkable agility and (Y/n) followed in suit, the sudden movement pushing their cloak back, revealing their best-kept secret - their elven shaped ears. 

(Y/n) cursed but didn't have time to scramble for the hood, instead choosing to press forth, leading their new allies into the woods, where they had just enough time to find a hiding place from the mob, the hay cart having been the perfect barrier.

Only half of the villagers passed by their hideout, judging by the cacophony of footfalls and heavy breathing, accompanied by the gruff voice of one villager, who decided to round everyone up and wait by the main road - they would have to get out, somehow.

The group had managed to stay exceptionally still, while their pursuers cleared out of the wood, but (Y/n) could feel three pairs of eyes watching them, their level of scrutiny unsettling.

When all was quiet, (Y/n) dared to venture forth, and they found the woods uninhabited. The three that (Y/n) had saved were slower to exit their hiding spot, and when they did, they turned on (Y/n) quickly - the elf already whipping out her swords.

"Who are you?"

"You mean other than your savior?" (Y/n) said, putting their hand on the hilt of their dagger - just in case.

"What are you, then?" The elf took a step forward, her accent punctuating her every word. "You're not human, but you're not elf either."

"I'm both."

And the revelation was just enough to stun the elf, allowing the idiotic boy from earlier to step up. "Well, thank you for your help back there. Right, Rayla?" —he shot a glance at the elf and she pushed her lips together, clearly still on edge— "I'm Callum and this is Ezran with Bait. And you are...?"

"(Y/n)." They crossed their arms against their chest, narrowing their eyes.

"(Y/n)," Callum repeated, nodding his head slowly as he shot wayward glances back at his friends, who were still assessing the situation. Ezran peered up at (Y/n) with a trepidatious kind of respect while Rayla still held her swords out, her brow furrowed, mirroring (Y/n). 

"What were you doing in a human village, (Y/n)?" Rayla all but spat, tightening her grip.

"Apparently being smarter than you - have you always been this idiotic?" (Y/n) turned to look at Callum and he reeled backward, offended. "Going into a village market with an elf is a death sentence! You could have been caught."

"You went in there!"

"Because I had to! You are a human traveling with an elf - you could have easily gone without her."

Callum blinked, tilting his head to the side. Little Ezran walked up, tugging on his brother's sleeve. "(Y/n) has a point, y'know."

"Yeah, well, we just didn't think of it," Callum mumbled, earning a scoff from (Y/n), which elicited a glare from Rayla. "But in our defense, things were going smoothly until I tripped and pushed Rayla's hood back."

(Y/n) chuckled darkly, rolling their eyes, and Rayla took the opportunity to press forth. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be in Xadia?"

(Y/n) took a step closer, as though daring Rayla to make a move. "Shouldn't you?"

"Whoa!" Callum stepped between the two, gingerly pushing them apart. "Shouldn't we all be?"

(Y/n) shot him a suspicious look - one that they had been saddled with their whole life. It felt odd, almost, giving it to someone else. "Why would you be heading to Xadia? Why are you traveling with an elf, anyway?"

Callum chuckled nervously again, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and pointing at (Y/n) with the other. "I mean, no better place than Xadia - right? The magic, the elves, the dragons..."

"Callum doesn't know what he's talking about," Rayla recovered, but there was a slight shake to her voice - a tell. "He's taking me to the Moonshadow Path - we're friends. He's not coming with me. Humans don't belong in Xadia."

But Callum winced at that, and Ezran looked down, his feelings hurt. If Rayla noticed, she found no point in disputing her statement, choosing instead to press forth.

"Do you?"

And (Y/n) thought of why they had saved this group of idiots in the first place... in the hopes that they would get the recognition needed to belong in Xadia. For a couple of humans, a glow toad, and a Moonshadow elf, they seemed pretty intent on making it to the magical world beyond the Breach. Whatever their reason, it must have been good, seeing as they banded together, despite the hatred that ran between their races. (Y/n)'s immediate reaction was to leave and never look back - face the consequences of saving these odd travelers and find a new village to buy grain from, continuing to live the way they always had - but they couldn't. For a reason that was beyond what (Y/n) had always thought to be true, a feeling that went beyond their mantra to make no friends and keep their head down, they felt the urge to stay.

Ignoring the voice in their head that screamed at them to not make such a stupid mistake, (Y/n) lifted their hand and pushed away Rayla's sword with the tip of their gloved finger.

"I don't belong anywhere. But I hoped that by saving you, maybe I could." 

Ezran took a sympathetic step forward, coming out from behind his friends, and looking (Y/n) deep in the eye. There was something in his gaze that made (Y/n) feel like he understood them, despite their lives being so different. Callum put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder and (Y/n) noticed it was in his eyes, too. They turned to Rayla, and she looked away, but there was a fury in her eyes - a familiar wave of anger that had to be righteously earned from being cast out, from being an outsider in a place that should have been home. 

Suddenly, it dawned on (Y/n) that this ragtag group of wanderers didn't belong anywhere, at least, not anymore, and were walking to Xadia with a hope that (Y/n) had lost long ago.

"You can belong with us if you want," Ezran spoke up, and his words seemed to have the conviction of one twice his age, as though he had been born to royalty. (Y/n) entertained the idea as they considered his words. He certainly held the air of a royal, and he had nice enough clothes to be in the nobility.

"Ezran." Rayla fixed him with a look, one that implied they had secrets to keep.

"They saved our lives, Rayla, we can't just leave them."

The elf hesitated, but Callum stepped forward, a bit of suspicion still swimming in his eyes, but something more hidden beneath. "What Ez means to say is that you can journey with us if you want."

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure Rayla isn't going to kill me when my back is turned?"

"Not if you don't give me a reason to," Rayla said, and Callum turned to her with a poignant stare.

"We need all the help we can get, Rayla. We need to be safe if we're going to make it back to Xadia"

"Do you trust them with our cargo?"

(Y/n) cocked their head, and Rayla looked at them with a harsh glance. Callum sighed. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

"Alright, then," Rayla sighed, taking a step forward and extending her hand. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment before pulling off their glove, exposing their lack of a fifth finger, and clasping it with hers.

"You'll take me to Xadia?"

And Callum was the one to answer, shaking (Y/n)'s other hand with his own. "You can walk with us as long as you'd like."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#the dragon prince #tdp #callum #callum tdp #ezran tdp #rayla tdp #rayla #ezran #callum x reader #rayla x reader #reader insert #platonic reader #one shot #imagine #tdp imagine #the dragon prince imagine #fluff #the idiot squad is here but is short one (1) member which is soren. he just steals the braincells #i blame this on seeing a headcanon set about a half-human half-elf character and craving angst backstories

[ready-to-obeyme]

starlight (Lucifer/MC)

For @dazatsu for the Obey Me Secret Santa for 2020. I hope this fic of mine makes you smile at least once! :) I loved thinking up of the prompt for your secret santa, so I hope I did your aesthetics and preferences justice! I tried including both of your faves and ended up focusing on one. 

Feel free to message me on discord or on my personal @epiphyllous.

Happy Holidays! :)

Summary: It’s been a few days or so since you’ve returned to the human world to attend your university classes. Missing you, Lucifer decides to give you a visit, (with Belphie tagging along) hopefully without being seen, just to check up on you. 

Or so he planned. He never could have anticipated how much he actually misses you. 

notes: gn!reader, College Student MC, sfw, (sorta) established relationship, pining

--

Be patient, Lucifer tells himself. One semester: four months, or even better, fifteen weeks. Lucifer would never admit it to anyone else, but he counts the days until you come back to the House of Lamentations, occupy the room that is now too quiet for comfort, and sit at your seat at the dining table and laugh with all of them again.

The first week after you leave to attend university classes, he keeps his brothers in line, making sure they keep on going to RAD classes instead of spending the entire day moping over your absence. Not that he didn’t miss you, because, of course, he did. At the best of times you were like a buoy in a stormy night, and at others, you were a comforting presence at his side who taught him how to laugh again.

But you had promised to come back, and he had promised that they would be waiting for you when you did. Lucifer prides himself on control, so in control he would be.

Or so he would have been if he had not already planned to ‘check-up’ on you in the human world at the end of this week. 

(He tries not to think about the fact he has caved in only one week after you’ve been gone, but demons are weak to temptation-- so he forgives himself, just this once, because it is to see you.)

To anyone else, especially his brothers, he’s visiting the human realm to take care of human exchange student documents. Only Diavolo, and Barbatos by association, knows why he’s actually settling the last piece of his paperwork prior to his trip. Diavolo had only given him a wide smile, but he is embarrassed to be so evidently transparent to his old friend. (It would have been even more embarrassing had Barbatos had been there to receive the news, so Lucifer is thankful for that at least.) 

With everything in order, his brothers threatened to do well in class while he was gone and too distracted to notice the real reason he’s so eagerly planning a trip away, Lucifer heads out the door.

Belphie is waiting for him in the doorway. 

“You aren’t planning to go by yourself, are you?” Belphie says with a leisurely smile, and Lucifer can only sigh.

.

.

“Oh, sorry-- er, Pro-Professor…”

Lucifer watches as another student meekly ducks past him, skittering away with their head ducked low until they merge with their group. He can hear snippets of what they’re saying, and he isn’t sure what to think when all the comments have been on his attire. It didn’t dawn on him when he first walked onto campus grounds with Belphie in tow, but with the glances he’s been given and the attention he’s been garnering despite his attempts to stay hidden, he realizes how strange his outfit must be when compared to the rest of the population. 

He sighs and crosses his leg on the wooden bench they’ve perched themselves on, turning towards his youngest brother when he hears him laugh. Belphie gives him a sleepy smile that does not hide any of the amusement behind it. “Those people think you’re a cosplayer,” he says to Lucifer, pointing to a group of students who were looking at the two of them. “From an anime about vampires or butlers.” 

Lucifer looks down at his fur-collared coat on his shoulders and gives it a slight tug. “Ah, I suppose the coat is a little bit ill-suited for the weather, isn’t it?” He huffs when Belphie gives him a deadpan. “I jest, Belphie,” he says, crossing his arms (regally, in a way that only convinces everyone who watched him that he was playing in-character). “I understand clearly now that my ‘casual’ attire is not the norm for this university campus.”

“Or any other campus,” Belphie mutters. “People have been saying your vest makes you look like you part-time at Olive Garden… wherever that is. You should have just dressed like me today.” And Lucifer cannot argue with that sentiment, considering how well Belphie fits in with the university atmosphere and environment with his long jacket worn over his tee. If he ignores the comments on his own attire, Lucifer can hear the whispers of awe and even admiration at the cow-printed pillow that Belphie has brought along with him today to ‘comfortably sleep in class while he waits for you,’ or so he has explained to Lucifer.

“I’m not sure how I would pull off the university-look you so excel at,” Lucifer says exasperatedly. “I doubt it would…” Just as quickly as he cut his sentence off, Lucifer jumps to his feet, quickly dragging Belphie by the pillow (much to his complaints) to hide behind a particularly bushy shrub. 

“Ugh, let go of my pillow, you’re going to stretch it out--”

“Shh, be quiet,” Lucifer snaps, glaring at his brother who only stubbornly looks back. “I’d rather not be caught sneaking around on campus when we’re not supposed to.”

“Wait, what? Aren’t we here to see them?” Belphie retorts, “Isn’t this the whole point? Wait, unless…”

Lucifer can feel the tell-tale heat on his ears as warnings of an oncoming blush and wills it away with a scowl, daring Belphie to finish his thought. As expected from his free-spirited and equally willful brother, Belphie does anyway.

“You didn’t tell MC you were coming, did you?” Belphie says, and as much as Lucifer is happy to have such a cunning brother, he wished Belphie were otherwise at the moment. “That’s why we’ve been hiding around trying to find them rather than just having them ditch class--”

“I would not make them ditch class--”

“--and spend time with us.” Belphie pauses. “Why didn’t you just tell them we were coming?” 

In the corner of his eyes, Lucifer sees you walk down the crackling pavement-- backpack on your shoulders, skin a healthy glow (thank Diavolo), and eyes as bright as ever-- and Lucifer’s thoughts trail to a stop. His gaze follows you as you walk past them without notice, and he thinks to himself that a human like you truly does belong to a place with the sun, because you are as radiant as starlight.  

Lucifer looks back towards Belphie who had fallen silent, only to fight back another bout of embarrassment as Belphie stares back at him with a knowing, mischievous gleam. 

“Let’s grab a seat in their class,” Belphie says, standing up easily and walking the same direction Lucifer watched you disappear into. Just when Lucifer thinks the gleam is only from the sun, Belphie continues, his voice dripping with saccharine, “Just so you can watch them a little more closely.”

Lucifer sighs, less inclined to argue when they have little time to catch up with you. (Though even if he did have time, there was not much to say when nothing Belphie said was wrong.)

.

.

Looking back at the conversation now, Lucifer wishes he did argue, just a little, because maybe then he would feel better upon watching in horror as Belphie sleeps beside him in class only five minutes into lecture. 

After following you, they had picked inconspicuous seats in the back row of the lecture hall (with these tiny, little tables-- Lucifer doesn’t understand how anyone could write on these), hoping to remain unseen by you who sat a few rows up in the middle. Based off the scattered, quiet laughter that surrounds them, Lucifer thinks that their choice in seats was a moot point now. 

“Belphie. Belphie,” Lucifer hisses, nudging his brother’s leg in hopes of stirring him awake. “Lecture just began. How are you asleep already?” 

“S’fine,” Belphie mumbles, waving a flippant hand. “We don’t even take this class.” 

From behind them, Lucifer hears someone quietly whisper ‘legend’, and it takes everything in him to not bury his face into his hands and make themselves even more noticeable. He sighs, but regardless, he looks forward, spotting the back of your head almost immediately in a sea of students. Ever so often, he would see your head dip down to look at your laptop and up again to read the slides that were presented. The movement is repetitive, most likely reminiscent to how you would also be in a Devildom RAD class, but for some reason, watching you focus and intently study in your university classes makes it very evident how often he finds himself proud of you. 

And he almost feels guilty for following you on campus. After all, he did make a promise to be there when you came back after waiting patiently for you, and it was not as if you left happily. If anything, you had hoped to stay-- but your future awaits, and so you promised to work hard to get back to them as soon as possible. Perhaps he should keep to the promise you had made to each other-- oh. 

Lucifer watches as you lean down to rummage through your backpack, and he almost feels his heart stop when he sees your D.D.D in your hand. Your fingers scroll through something: Past texts? Your gallery, perhaps? Regardless of what the reason is, Lucifer feels something warm spread within his chest as he thinks that maybe you had missed them (hopefully even him?) just as much as they missed you. 

What he does not expect is to have his phone vibrate with a text from you. 

>> Are you busy right now?

Lucifer is thankful that Belphie is asleep because he does not see the way Lucifer fumbles to get his D.D.D out and text with his heart at his throat. 

<< Not at the moment. 

He pauses. 

<< Is something the matter?

The response is quick.

>> No, nothing is wrong! 

>> I’m just in class right now and ngl it’s kind of boring.

Lucifer buries his chuckle into his fist.

<< And here I thought you had an emergency.

>> :crying emoji: This IS an emergency. I’m DYING

>> of BOREDOM

>> Save me, Lucifer!!

<< I will not be an accomplice to distracting you during class. 

He’s already enabling you by responding, so it’s not exactly the truth, he admits. But he does like the way you tilt your head as you are wont to do when you find something amusing. 

>> Darn, okay I tried

>> I just

Lucifer watches as the text bubbles stay on screen, and he waits for your upcoming message when the people around them stand up, putting their laptops into their backpacks at the end of the lecture.

>> I miss you guys

He looks up to see you standing up, D.D.D. in hand, head down and fingers still over the screen. After a moment, you type something else and lock the phone, putting it into your backpack before heading down the aisle to leave the class. 

Your last few messages pop up.

>> Class just ended so I’ll have to go study at the library but

>> I just wanted to say I really miss you

>> Hope you’re doing well

>> Love you. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Lucifer turns toward Belphie, whose violet eyes are still bleary from sleep but whose words are as clear and succinct as ever. He yawns before continuing, “Go after them. Let me know when their classes are done so we can actually do something together.” 

At this, Lucifer feels his gaze soften. “Yes, I’ll let you know,” he says, standing up and walking down the path to the door. “And, ah, Belphie…” He waits until his youngest brother looks up from his pillow before telling him with a small, wry smile, “Be sure not to get locked inside the classroom when all the lectures finish.” 

.

.

After a few mishaps, Lucifer manages to ask for the directions to the library most commonly used by the student body. The first few times he tried, his language was too formal for anyone to truly believe he was asking for direction. “Who are you cosplaying? Can I take a picture with you?” was thrown at him numerous times. “Am I being pranked right now? Are you a youtuber?” was also asked at him twice-- which was not often, but it was strange that it happened that many times. 

Eventually, someone had, after watching him cross his arms indignantly, given him the instructions to the library. It was only when he was walking up the steps to the building that he thought that everything would have gone much faster if he had only demanded directions and hypnotized a random student into telling him. But he imagined that if you ever found out, you would not be pleased, and that-- if anything-- was the one reason why he resisted the urge to. 

Lucifer walks into the air-conditioned building and searches for you. It does not take him long until he sees you, sitting at one of the desks in the library, laying your head on your arms, fast asleep.

It is around three in the afternoon, the sunshine filters through the ceiling windows and scatters across your desk, showering you in a flurry of light, and Lucifer thinks he was a fool to ever think he could bear to not see you for a moment longer. 

The seat beside you is open, so he sits there, watching the moving sunlight dance across the hand you placed near your face. Your chest rises and falls evenly, and for a moment, you clench your hands but do not wake, seeming to dream of holding onto something instead. It takes all the self-control Lucifer could muster to not take your hand in his. Instead, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, careful not to let it fall off, and watches as students filter in and out of the library in the hustle of academic life. 

Lucifer isn’t sure how long he waited, surrounded by tall shelves of books and aisles of encyclopedias, but you start to stir, waking up and wincing at the sun in your eyes in a way that has him smiling in amusement. You first grab onto the jacket that had started to fall off your shoulders, and upon realizing that it did not belong to you, you look up to see Lucifer, smiling fondly. 

“Lucifer?” 

Lucifer can feel the side of his eyes crinkle at the sound of your voice still raspy from sleep. He sweeps away the lint on your shoulder as you sleepily gather up his jacket into your lap. “Whatever happened to ‘studying in the library’ as you told me?” He says teasingly, smile widening when you fluster and laugh nervously. 

“I-- you know… I was taking a break and,” you start to say, pausing only to look at him accusingly, much to his amusement. “Wait, forget about that! How are you here? Why are you here?” 

“I’m the vice-president of the student council-- I’m able to be wherever I please,” he tells you, and you huff at how smug he sounds. “As for why I’m here, it’s to check up on one of our human exchange students, of course… is what I would say.” Lucifer leans forward and gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, unable to push the affection that bubbles forth as he sees your hand press over his. “But I also just wanted to see you.”

Lucifer hears a cough from behind him and feels heat rushing into his cheeks at the (quite frankly) polite reminder that he was in a public space. He retracts his gloved hand and clears his throat, hoping that the moment is enough to clear away the pink that has undoubtedly found its way onto his face. He expects you to tease him, as you often do whenever you have the chance. When it does not come, he glances back to you, only to feel his heart squeeze at the way you look at him: your eyes softened, lips upturned gently, and gaze adoring in a way that made it seem like you believed he had hung the stars.

(If there were any more ‘coughing’ to remind Lucifer that they were, in fact, still in the library instead of their own world, neither of you take notice.)

“I missed you too,” you say, summing up his feelings in the simplest way that only you could do. You take his hand into yours and gently sway it back and forth. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”

It had been a good idea, after all, he thinks, to indulge himself for once and come see you if it meant he could hold your hand like this again. “Belphie was hoping you would give us a tour of your university,” Lucifer says softly, sweeping his thumb over your hand. “If you were done with classes.”

He feels you squeeze his hand in response to his affection, and his heart soars even as he listens to you speak. “Belphie is here?” You ask, surprised. When he nods in confirmation, you laugh. “Did he catch you when you were leaving or something? Threaten to tell your brothers if you didn’t take him along?” 

Lucifer doesn’t answer you, preferring to huff instead, though he can’t deny that he is pleased that you can know his brothers’ behavior well enough to hit it right on the money. “He opted to sleep in the last lecture hall you were in rather than go on the wild goose chase I had to find this library. Is nobody at your university unable to fathom that someone would wear something slightly more formal to class?”

“Yup,” you reply easily, grinning at him. “But it’s okay, I like your outfit. It’s very you.” You pause. “Also, we can always go shopping later, though, so people can stop staring at you. And also to buy some souvenirs for your brothers!” Your eyes brighten as you think, and his heart melts at the fact that his brothers are in your thoughts. (For as much as he wants to have your attention, he finds that the love you can give to his brothers is as equally enjoyable to witness.) 

You hum thoughtfully, “I think Beel might appreciate some food from this new restaurant that opened up last week. Maybe Levi would like something from the cute Japanese store down the road? Oh, and face masks for Asmo!”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy with anything you purchase for them,” Lucifer says, making you look up at him with a smile. And he wants to reach out to cup your face again.

Ring ring!

The both of you glance at your phone when it plays a tune, and as quickly as the alarm goes off, your hand is there to turn it off. Lucifer looks at you questioningly before you sigh.  “I have class in about ten minutes,” you say apologetically.

“Is that so?” Lucifer says, standing up from his seat. “Then I shall accompany you.” He extends a hand in askance for his jacket, only to give a huff of laughter when you only stare at him incredulously. “Is it that much of a surprise that I would like to escort you to your classes? Unless, of course, you would prefer me not to--”

“No!” You duck your head down, looking around quickly, much to Lucifer’s amusement, before lowering your volume. ‘No, I mean,” you fluster, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Oh, how Lucifer wants to press a kiss to your forehead, but to save you (and himself, though he thinks he no longer has anything to lose) the embarrassment, he settles for easy laughter as he wraps his jacket around himself. You follow after him, pushing in your chair and lugging up your backpack, your laptop securely inside. 

“Shall we go then?” he asks, holding out an elbow for you to hook your arms with his. When you slide yourself close to him and walk down the steps outside the library, he realizes that this is the many things he has missed since you've been gone. Your hand is a comfortable presence on his arm and your footsteps are aligned with his as you walk in tandem to your next class. He briefly thinks about his brothers, most particularly how Mammon would bluster about their proximity, or how one of the romance novels Satan would have described this very situation he was in: walking alongside someone dear to him on a campus that does not seem as big when you are together.

Your hand squeezes his arm gently before you guide him through hallways and pathways. When a crowd of students bustles past them at the end of lecture, he feels you inch closer to him. 

“It’s a lecture hall, not a discussion class,” you start to tell him, much to his confusion. You laugh. “They won’t notice you’re not part of the class, so you can sit next to me.” You lower your hand and take his hand in yours.

Lucifer squeezes your hand comfortingly as the last of the previous class files out. “Try not to be too distracted by my presence,” he comments and cannot help the upturn of his lips when you shoot him a withering look he does not have to see to know it has no heat behind it.

Among other glances and subtle affection that you provide him the rest of the day convinces him fully that there has never been a better decision than to visit you. When the two of you finally meet up with Belphie, who had been asleep on a nearby bench, the night is spent out following you as you guide them around campus and at the nearest hub of entertainment. 

In the end, you do collect enough gifts for all his brothers, even sneaking a small present into his hands with a sly smile on your face.

And when he returns to the Devildom after a long, long farewell where no one wanted to leave, he provides his brothers with their souvenirs (after they stopped complaining to him about going off to the human world with only Belphie). He tugs off the coat that now lingers with your scent and places the gift you had purchased him onto his desk-- a little trinket that he can now look at and remind himself of you, with eyes of starlight and laughter as warm as the sun.

He thinks of the last message that you sent him and sends you a response.

<< I love you too.

<< Until next time. 

#happy holidays!! i hope you like the fic! #ObeyMeSecretSanta2020 #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #lucifer/mc #fasdfksafdhaskjfd surprise i am alive

[bangtanbetchfics]

friction | iii - knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 4.5k suggested listening: better - boa | up no more - twice | temptations - boa | mmmh - KAI | playlist warnings: explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers, light bondage, light dom/sub, sex toys summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: this is one of my favorite pieces i've written! i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. content is too hot to put above the fold, so go ahead & dive in. ;) finale & last chapter coming next week. encouragement favs & kudos help! :') navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

“Namjoon...what kind of game are we playing?”

You smile through the question -- because no, it couldn’t be true that Namjoon tied you to his bed and left you there. The vibrator in your underwear suddenly changes speeds, and your mind is immediately drawn away from the thought.

“N-Namjoon?”

Your nipples stand up from the stimulation below, and your wrists twiddle around in your restraints. Your toes press into the bed and you gasp as the vibration grows a tick more intense.

You groan at the fact that you’re unable to control your pleasure, and you wriggle around the mattress trying to find some form of release.

The vibrator slows down for the first time and you whine as you toss your head side-to-side out of frustration.

Your eyes are shrouded in black -- still no sense of time or space around you. Your interview with Yoongi was definitely today, and you gasp as you recall.

Suddenly, it dawns on you that Namjoon removed your smartwatch before he tied your wrists to the bedpost.

“Okay Google, f-fuck,” You groan, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that.” Your watch responds, and you continue to whine and tug at your restraints -- nearing the peak of your release.

“Okay Google, what time is the event: my interview with Yoongi?” You plead, gritting the question through your teeth.

“The event: your interview with Yoongi was at nine A.M.”

“What time is it now?” You ask, feeling your underwear start to dampen.

“It’s nine forty-five A.M. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Google inquires. You whine before the watch shuts back off from a lack of response.

Just as you’re at the tip of release, the vibrator cycles through a variety of speeds repeatedly, and you feel a gloss of tears form over your eyes.

Your desire for relief causes you to hump the air, but you yelp when the vibrator kicks to top speed -- erupting your body into a bright, white heat.

The sounds of your frantic breaths start to fill your skull -- your throat running dry from your moans. The vibrator was still going, and you whine, knowing that it meant you were at rock bottom again before you could reach another release.

Despite this, your senses now seemed to be heightened -- your body aware of every neuron within and around it. You could now sense the earthy breeze coming in through the bedroom’s slightly ajar balcony door; your body slick from the heat you formed working your way up to an orgasmic release.

You could feel sweat droplets trickle down your skin -- and you notice the remnants of Namjoon’s cologne in the space.

After a moment you realize Namjoon really is gone.

The smell of his cologne floating in the air was always the last step in his routine before he left for work.

✹✹✹

Namjoon waits outside of Yoongi’s office, looking down and studying his phone.

The screen has a choice of three buttons to press: low, medium and high -- and he toggles between the three quickly. He looks up and sees Yoongi approaching him, and Namjoon’s fingers hesitate over a final button. His thumb settles on high and he presses it, his lips curling into a slight smirk.

“I’m ready. You comin’ in?” Yoongi asks, hanging out from his glass doorframe.

“Yeah, totally. I’m all set.” Namjoon replies, clicking his phone off and slipping the device into the front pocket of his slacks. He grabs his leather portfolio and stands up, making his way into Yoongi’s office.

Namjoon sits down and crosses one leg over another, looking over a few notes in his portfolio.

“So, before we get started...do you know where your Vegas partner in crime is? Haven’t heard from her today. It’s so unlike her.” Yoongi states, looking at his watch.

“She was actually supposed to be my first CEO interview this morning.” He mentions, sucking his teeth in disappointment.

“That is strange. I’m not sure. She just might be tied up with something at the moment, I suppose?” Namjoon shrugs as he responds before looking up at Yoongi.

“Maybe...” Yoongi’s eyes drift into his head to think, but he shakes his head and focuses back on Namjoon.

✹✹✹

Your ears perk up as you hear footsteps in the hall and you start to gently tug at your silky binds.

“Namjoon...?” You inquire in a low, scratchy voice -- nearly breathless. You feel his weight compress the bed and you press your head back into the pillow.

Another wave of warmth starts to fill your body as his finger traces a straight line from the top of your abdomen to your bellybutton. You quickly heave as you try to anticipate where his fingers will land, and you moan as he reaches into your underwear.

“You’re soaked,” Namjoon comments, pushing the vibrator closer to your clit, causing you to arch your back off the bed.

“Let me g-“ Before you’re able to protest, you let out a pleasurable cry as the speed increases on the vibrator. You bite your lip as more moans try to escape your lips.

The sensations coursing through your body send you into an elusive wave of pleasure that washes over you for the sixth time that afternoon. You hum before your body jerks up furiously from the overstimulation and ends in a tremble.

After your comedown you’re only able to lay still as your chest heaves, and Namjoon slips the silk ties from your wrists.

You groan at the relief, your wrists tender from the restraints. You feel his lips tenderly kiss and soothe your wrists, and you use your now-free hands to lead him down toward your lips.

You kiss him passionately, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You feel him remove his wool coat and toss it to the ground, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he climbs on top of you.

“Ow-” He suddenly feels a hard nip at his lip and he looks down at you, watching you remove your blindfold.

“Are you happy you made me miss my interview?” You snap as you glare up at him, shoving his chest away from you. You reach into your underwear and slam the vibrator onto the night table.

“Classic asshole move,” You grumble, reaching to the floor and slipping your body into your skirt.

“Fuck, baby. Please,” Namjoon dabs at his lip with his finger, looking at the slight blood on his fingertip.

You throw your suit jacket on followed by your coat and heels as he sits up on the edge of the bed. He tries to grab your wrist, but you whip around to look at him.

“You used me. You’re insane. Let me go.” You grit through your teeth.

Namjoon looks at you in shock, his eyes wide.

“You made me miss something I’ve been working for my entire life. Endless nights -- alone to get where I am. I can’t believe I let a few nights with you rob me of that.” You scoff as you think about it, loosening your wrist from his grip.

“God. Don’t speak to me ever again.” You say firmly before you leave the room. He reaches his hand out in vain behind you, watching you walk away.

“You know what? I’m the insane one...” You mumble to yourself, your heels clicking across the wood floor as you head toward the front door.

✹✹✹

The next night, your eyes focus on your computer screen -- the familiar blue light illuminating your tired eyes. You couldn’t move or blink, feeling imprisoned by the thoughts from the copious amount of interactions for the last nine hours.

Taehyung’s typing outside of your door finally comes into focus, and you sigh -- inhaling first, and then blowing out air from your mouth to release some of the tension from the day.

You throw your head back in your chair and it leans back halfway, a slight release occurring in your tight muscles.

You lick your lips and it brings the slightest twinge of arousal to the top of your thoughts.

Normally, Namjoon’s lips would be buried between your thighs right now -- but not tonight. If you couldn’t have Namjoon by night, it was before work or for a quick afternoon romp. That of course wasn’t the case anymore, and you sigh.

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the thought, and Taehyung raps on the glass of your door.

“Excuse me...sorry to interrupt. Your meeting with Yoongi is in about five minutes, so you might want to head up.” Taehyung looks at you, and you can tell he’s forlorn at your situation.

“Great, thanks Tae.” You nod as you sit up, refusing to hold eye contact with him to avoid feeling any further regret than you already did.

You shut down your computer and gather your things, throwing your coat over your forearm.

“Have a good night.” You say quietly, and Taehyung waves at you as you slowly walk off, head hung low.

✹✹✹

As you wait for Yoongi to return, your eyes scan the glimmering cityscape. You look down and swallow, the appeal of this office -- this view -- not as glamorous as it seemed a few months ago.

“Sorry about that. Had to use the men’s room really quickly.” Yoongi mentions as he closes his door, and circles back around to his desk.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” He sits and stares at you as he awaits a response.

You twiddle with your fingers in your hands, a nail depressing into the flesh of your skin.

“I...” You bite your lip as you feel tears well into your eyes.

“It’s just so unlike you to throw an opportunity like this away.” Yoongi prods, and you look up at him.

“I know. I’m so ashamed.” You respond, your voice trembling.

Yoongi sighs in disappointment, his fingers drumming the table.

“I-I was hoping for another-“ You start, and Yoongi shakes his head.

“You know I can’t do that. Don’t put me in that position. There are so many qualified people applying for this role.” He says, shaking his head again. “You were my top choice and you just didn’t show up. That tells me that you’re just not ready to handle the pressures of this position -- that you’re not taking it seriously. You can never have an off day leading a company of this size and scale. Do you understand that?” He says firmly and you nod, swallowing your tears down your throat.

“No. I do understand, Sir. Thank you for your time.” You stand up and collect your things and bow deeply to him.

Yoongi lets out a deep sigh in disappointment as you walk out.

You take large strides as you make your way to the elevator bank.

As soon as you hear the ding of a car, silent, hot tears flow down your face and you sob.

✹✹✹

The next morning you head toward the kitchen in your office, the sound of your heels echoing throughout the silent hall.

You open a drawer and reach for a Keurig cup -- choosing an Irish coffee flavor. You purse your lips, figuring its the closest you’ll get to alcohol this early in the morning.

You press the cup into the coffee maker, and you hear the machine pierce the plastic container. You hear the coffee start to flow into the paper cup, and you make your way to look at the city from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

You hear another set of footsteps, and you turn around to see Jimin. You knew he was Namjoon’s assistant, but he seemed to dress sharply for his role despite that.

Jimin stops in his tracks as he notices you staring at him, and he approaches the other coffee maker cautiously.

“Uhm, good morning,” Jimin says, his voice rising at the end of his greeting. He pulls a cup from a stack, looking at you.

“You’re Namjoon’s assistant, right?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest.

Your eyes were somehow incredibly intimidating in the moment, and it causes Jimin to shrink in your presence.

“Can you deliver a message to your boss for me?” You ask, raising an eyebrow and grabbing your cup.

Jimin gives you a silent nod as he stands frozen in position.

“Tell your boss he’s a fucking asshole.” You say cooly, blowing the steam from your cup as you stomp off.

The air returns to Jimin’s lungs, and he sighs as he rests his hands on the cool counter.

✹✹✹

“Sir, I have a message for you,” Jimin says, rapping at Namjoon’s office door.

“Not now Jimin.” Namjoon says curtly, continuing to write on the piece of paper in front of him.

“It’s an important message. It cannot wait.” Jimin says firmly.

“Fine, go ahead.” Namjoon sighs, sitting back in his chair.

“The CMO asked me to let you know...” Namjoon perks up, his eyes growing wide. “She asked me to let you know...”

Namjoon’s eyes grow dark, his stare turning into a cold impatience.

“Just say it, Jimin.” Namjoon demands, tossing his gold pen onto the table.

“Uhm,” Jimin hesitates, but bites his lip once he sees the look on Namjoon’s face. “She said to tell you that...um, and I quote: you’re a fucking asshole.” Jimin cringes as he says it, running back to his seat.

Namjoon sighs and clenches his jaw before he runs his hands through his hair. He chuckles out of frustration as he leans back, looking around his office.

✹✹✹

Taehyung’s phone rings, and he immediately picks up the line.

“God Taehyungie, it’s really bad over here,” Jimin whispers at the other side of the line.

“No, I know. I had to stay until eight last night helping her. She seemed pretty upset.” Taehyung sighs.

“Same here. She told me to tell him that he was a fucking asshole,” Taehyung gasps on the other end. “Normally they’re together, but now they’re both pushing themselves into overdrive at the office instead.” Jimin groans.

One of Taehyung’s vacant phone lines starts to blink.

“Hold on a sec Jiminie,” Taehyung presses the line and he nods as he hears the voice on the other end.

“Okay, yes. 63rd floor. Sure.” He smiles a bit and a glimmer of hope swells in his heart.

“I have to go.” He tells Jimin, hanging up the phone.

“Uhm, miss. Looks like someone is really sorry,” Taehyung says, watching a delivery man hand you a bouquet.

The bouquet screams sorry, the vase filled to the brim with a dizzying array of roses, tulips, lilies and orchards.

You roll your eyes as you see a small card tucked into the flowers: From Namjoon, and set the glass vase on your desk. You toss the card into the trash before diving back into your work, but Taehyung holds his hand up.

The delivery man enters again, this time with two large, differing bouquets: one of one hundred decadent red roses -- the exact number of days you’d been together with Namjoon before you split.

Another bouquet arrives of one hundred pink, white and yellow roses, and you inhale the scent of the flowers as its set in front of you.

You’re unable to process the moment as the man brings in seven more bouquets -- your office filled to the brim with a floral aroma. You close your eyes and inhale the scent of the flowers once more, the look in your eyes forlorn.

Taehyung looks at you with a soft smile, but he watches you quickly come to -- returning yourself to a state of anger.

“The monthly board meeting is in about three minutes as well,” Taehyung’s voice registers in your head, and you look up at him and nod.

You tippytoe and step over the array of flowers lining the floor to leave your office -- making your way down the hall.

✹✹✹

You lean against a wall outside of the conference room, and you check your watch as you wait for people to arrive.

A man in a crisp grey and white checked suit walks down the hall. His black hair is slicked back over his head, and a small wisp of carefully placed hair sits over one of his eyes.

“Excuse me? Jackson?” You squeal, approaching the man.

Jackson turns his head your way and a smile envelops his face.

“My god, look at you?” You bite your lip, slicking your fingers over the fabric of his suit. “You’ve fucking made it to the big leagues, Wang.” You giggle, continuing to look him over.

“Look at you,” He throws the phrase back your way, his bright black eyes scanning your curves. He’d been after you for years and was fully basking in your attention.

Namjoon finally arrives, staring directly at you as he walks past the two of you. He watches people leave the room from the previous meeting, but his eyes dart back over to focus on you and Jackson.

Your giggles fill the hall as you and Jackson interact, and Namjoon feels jealously boil in his blood. After all, you were tied to his bed -- fully his, just a few weeks ago. You weren’t his anymore, but the sexy visions of all of the moments you shared were overtaking his thoughts: your silhouette in the shower, the water trickling from your body underneath the searing Vegas sun, the two of you hooking up repeatedly -- unable to get enough of each other.

The memories of your moans were tangible enough to feel on his lips, and he clenches his jaw as he watches the two of you.

Your eyes float over to Namjoon, and Jackson notices as he follows your eyes.

“Ah, trying to make him jealous?” Jackson smiles as you look at him quickly, and then back to Namjoon. “It can be our little secret.” He whispers, nudging you in the arm before you shake your head.

You glare at Namjoon and roll your eyes before you focus a smile back at Jackson. Jackson pats you on your lower back, lightly guiding you into the conference room.

✹✹✹

As you enter, you pick a seat near the front of the room, and you subtly watch Namjoon hesitate to pick a seat. He exhales from his nose before he gets the gusto to sit across the table from you. You glower at him, and he smirks, satisfied with himself.

“So, the agenda was established previous to this meeting. Let’s just hop right in.” Yoongi starts, flipping through a few papers before him.

“First thing’s first. As you all know, we’re looking to lock a new CEO by the end of the year. That’s going to be challenging with the holidays, but I promise you we’re close,” He slams his fist on the table.

“God dammit, the next person could very well be right here in this room.” He points around the room and smiles, looking everyone over as the room erupts in a light chuckle.

Namjoon leans back in his chair with an air of arrogance, his fingers drumming on the table.

You angrily squeeze the pen in your hand, and look up with a smile -- trying to seem indifferent, but it was hard to be at the moment; indifferent that you were too busy chasing love and lost the biggest opportunity of your lifetime.

Your eyes catch Namjoon’s drumming fingers and you glare at him.

“Now, moving into updates from our CTO,” Yoongi points at Namjoon and he nods in response.

“So, earlier this year I attended the TechX conference to represent the product...”

Halfway through Namjoon speaking, you find your thoughts drifting to what’s happening below you.

You catch yourself hanging onto Namjoon’s lips: his plushy bottom one, the thick Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat, the deep valleys of his voice making you wet.

You find that your eyes shoot up to meet his, and then move to a brow that raises on his forehead.

You clear your throat and try not to look at him, but at the papers in front of you instead. The bundle of nerves between your legs were betraying you in the current moment and you weren’t sure what to do to quench your thirst. 

Your eyes float back up to Namjoon’s again, and this time you can’t help but lace them with lust. Your head falls into your hand as you watch him intently, tripping him up on his words.

After he finishes speaking you stare each other down, a storm swirling in both of your gazes. He swipes his tongue on the inside of his cheek as you stare each other down further, the tension tangible between the two of you.

“Lunch will be served momentarily. We’ll reconvene in ten minutes to finish up what’s left on the agenda.” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the taut revulsion that bounds the two of you.

You immediately stand and head toward the exit -- looking over your shoulder at Namjoon before you leave.

Namjoon stands, buttoning his suit jacket taut over his body.

Yoongi is about to call Namjoon over, but notices him follow you instead. Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, and a series of thoughts finally click together in his head.

✹✹✹

You saunter down the hall and you give Namjoon a look before you enter a small phone room.

The door is frosted and there’s only enough room for a floating desk and chair, and you slide back on the desk.

You raise your brows as you hear the door click open, and your fingers clench the edges of the table as Namjoon enters the room and locks it.

Your eyes scan the breadth of his frame, and you watch him slowly approach you -- his body landing to tower over yours.

He tosses his leather portfolio onto the desk, and your heart starts to race as your lungs fill with the spicy, sinful scent of his cologne.

Namjoon’s thumb and forefinger align with the edge of your jaw, his fingers tensing around the bone as he tilts your head up to meet his. His lips hover over yours in a hot hesitation as he hones his eyes on your dark, unwavering gaze.

His nose grazes over your neck to inhale your scent, now laced with notes from the flowers in your office. His eyes laser in on your lips, and your glare at him intensifies.

“Did you get my flowers?” He asks, still looking down at you.

“No. Not a single one.” You answer curtly, your nostrils flaring as you clench your jaw.

Namjoon blows a hint of annoyance from his nose, your loathing gaze only growing more penetrating.

“Why’d you follow me?” You ask, your voice thick with desire as you look from his lips up to the smoking lust in his eyes.

“You really don’t know?” You’re nearly breathless as his lips draw closer. You try not to let it affect you, but your toes curl up in your heels — your nails sinking into the wood grooves of the desk.

“No, I don’t know,” You breathe in. “Tell me.” You say with a deep exhale, an achy desire coating your throat.

You heart is ready to burst how much you craved him in this moment -- but you refused to give into him first.

“I’m here because I saw you looking at me with those hungry eyes like the very first day I met you,” His voice is rich and velvety, sending chills down your frame.

His lips brush yours, and it makes your own lips vibrate with heat -- the sensation knotting your core.

“Yeah...and what about it?” You breathe out.

He hums before your lips crash together, the room nothing but feathery moans and sucking sounds.

You pull your lips from his, licking the notes of sugar from his morning coffee from your lips as you roll his tie around your wrist. He collapses down and his hands fall to the desk on either side of you.

“I saw you looking at Jackson and I. Were you jealous?” You tease breathily into his mouth, jerking him closer to you by his tie. His nose grazes yours and he smirks.

“No...because you still want me,” He responds, his hands in your hair as he moves in to slip his tongue in your mouth.

“No I, mmh-“ you protest as you come up for air before both of your lips come together again.

“If you wanted him, he’d be here with you right now.” You let out a moan into his mouth at how right he is, grabbing the lapels of his jacket as your tongues intertwine.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” He whispers, his breath hot in your ear after he pulls his lips from yours.

“I don’t...this is just a one time thing,” You lie, your head falling back as he kisses your neck -- the stubble on his chin scraping your flesh. You let out light moans as he sucks your neck, and his hands move to squeeze your waist.

“Be quiet...do you want the entire office to know how much you want me?” He demands, your breaths shuddering.

Namjoon’s hands press into your lower back and it makes you stand up, his hands wandering to your ass. His lips and hands were like magma, leaving fire in its wake wherever it went.

His desire makes you moan, his tongue swiping under yours as your arms reach around his neck to massage his hair.

“Liar,” He whispers as he backs you up against the wall, his hands gliding over your ass and landing in a smack. You gasp, the tail end of it a whimper that he captures with his tongue.

“Hush.” Namjoon whispers in your ear before he grabs a handful of your ass and smacks it again. You mewl, your hands wandering his firm, broad chest.

“You’re making me so hard right now,” His voice vibrates in the shell of your ear and you gasp as your hand wanders to the warmth of his cock, feeling how hard he is in your palm.

“Stop talking, we have five minutes,” You say breathlessly, and he pins both of your wrists to the wall. He pulls your skirt up to your waist -- sliding his hand into your underwear.

He dips his finger inside of your warmth, and he drags your taste down his tongue.

“Mmm fuck, I could take you right now,” He breathes out.

“Right now?” You ask, breathless. “No...” You say as his lips envelop yours again and you pull away for air.

“I think I’d rather have you tie me up in your room again because you’re threatened by me.” You state, and it makes him growl as he dives back into an open-mouthed kiss.

“Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” He moans into your ear as his fingers slip inside of you. You groan at how wet you are, and you can feel yourself drip down his fingers.

“How many times did you imagine this?” He whispers, and you clench around his fingers as a burning heat fills your cheeks.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your fingertips crinkle the fabric of his suit as you near your peak. His fingers drag against your cushiony g-spot, and it triggers your release. He seals his lips to yours to hold your moans, and he pulls you close to keep you upright.

He licks his fingers clean and you kiss him, tasting your essence on his lips.

After a moment you pull your lips from his and he grazes his nose across yours a few times to try and recapture your lips.

Your hand smooths from his arm up to his shoulder, and you trail kisses up his neck. You use your free hand to palm him, and you tug at his ear with your teeth before you speak.

“I hope the job was worth throwing all of this away,” You whisper, removing your hand from his bulge as Namjoon gasps.

Your hands move to snap your skirt back down your hips, and you pull your hair from its updo to cover the blooming love bites all over your neck. You smooth the lapels of his jacket back down before you look up and relish in the flabbergasted look on his face.

Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, his cock still rock hard as you leave the room.

“Fuck.” Namjoon grabs the portfolio from earlier on the desk, using it to cover himself as he exits the room.

✹✹✹

After you return to the conference room, you dig in your bag and pull out a compact. You bite your lip as you adjust your hair -- making sure no dark spots on your neck are visible.

You reapply your lip gloss, and Jackson kicks you underneath the table. He mouths “Did you...?” to you and you widen your eyes with an innocent look on your face. You steal a quick glance at Namjoon as he enters, looking down at the portfolio over his pants and back up to his eyes.

Namjoon sits, putting his elbow on the table. His fingers subtly meet his nose, and you watch him inhale the remnants of your sweet scent on his fingertips.

He tightens his jaw and you smirk, clamping your compact shut.

navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | finale | m.list | ao3

#btsbookclub #btssmutclub #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bangtanidx

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 6 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: A Walk on the Other Side

Summary: Bilbo is a FBI profiler and rather enjoys his desk job when a strange case comes across his desk hinting towards the FBI's most wanted: Smaug. As soon as he makes this connection, he is approached by notorious crime lord, Oakenshield, in an attempt to get him to work for him. Bilbo’s world gets flipped upside down by the suave man, and he may not be a dirty cop, but he does have a personal investment in making sure Smaug is put behind bars.

Bilbo Baggins was not exactly the first person you pictured when you heard the acronym “FBI”. He was a little too short, a little too pudgy, and enjoyed his sweater vests immensely. Yet, he’s been his department’s top analyst for the last fourteen years. He may not be one of the showy field officers (messy, nasty work that), but what Bilbo did was not any less important. In fact, if it wasn’t for analysts like Bilbo, a lot of times the “gunslinging action” wouldn’t take place at all. A rather unpopular opinion but true.

It was shaping into a relatively normal Thursday for Bilbo. They had just finished up a debrief over their latest embezzlement case. He was starting to suspect they were dealing with a serial embezzler. It was different locations, different methods, and different amounts, but there was something about the case that clicked in Bilbo’s mind. He was almost to his desk when he noticed a large manila envelope was draped over his keyboard. He raised an eyebrow as he carefully lifted the sticky note attached to it.

Have a look at these files for me? I know I’m missing something. Call me when you figure it out. -GG

Bilbo plopped into his uncomfortable rolling chair with a sigh. Gandalf was his old AD before he switched departments. And unfortunately, anything with Gandalf’s name on it was usually trouble for Bilbo. He tapped his fingers on the desk and spun back and forth in his chair for a bit when his eyes landed on his mother’s picture on his desk. She was in uniform hugging him at his college graduation. He knew exactly what she would want him to do. Heaving a groan, he pulled the damn envelope towards him and started looking over the files.

Arsons? Those didn’t usually fall under Gandalf’s jurisdiction. His eyes skimmed the reports, not sure exactly what Gandalf was expecting him to do. The evidence was fairly cut and dry. What’s more is the local police caught a suspect that seemed substantially to blame. Case closed. However, if Gandalf thought there was more, he should probably check it twice. It was actually the third time that he caught it. The papers hit his desk as his mind reeled. No...surely it wasn’t? Now he really needed to make sure.

He laid the photos out side by side circling the origin of the fires in each picture. His hand was shaking when he was done. This was big. This was FBI’s most wanted big. He didn’t even bother writing up a report. He immediately got on the server and sent a one-word email to Gandalf.

Smaug.

It was thirty after six when Bilbo finally packed up his work to head back home. His mind had been racing all afternoon, and all he wanted was to be put on the arson case. However, Gandalf never replied to his email, never called, nothing. First thing he was going to do when he got home after feeding Myrtle was grab a beer from the fridge and call the older man. Even if Gandalf wouldn’t let him be part of the team, he deserved to know what happened with that bastard.

Bilbo’s townhouse wasn’t exactly what you would call grand, but he enjoyed it greatly. It had the cosy atmosphere of his childhood cottage while still being rent efficient in a quiet neighborhood. It was a slight commute to work, but well worth it. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights to the front room as he toed off his shoes and set his messenger bag down. He was just getting ready to move into the kitchen to get some cat food down for Myrtle when he froze. There was a man in his house.

“So you’re Mr. Baggins.” His low voice purred in amusement as he looked him up and down. “You look more like a grocer than an agent.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to scream when the man whipped out a Sig Sauer.

“Don’t.” He ordered calmly. “I only want to talk.”

Bilbo’s eyes hardened as he quickly took in details for a sketch artist. Tall, likely over six foot. Lean, except for he’s slightly broader in the shoulders. Tailored suit. Slicked back dark hair but graying at the sides, hooded blue eyes, well-trimmed beard and mustache. Almost as if he knew exactly what Bilbo was doing, the man smirked before nodding towards the sitting room. Bilbo moved slowly and deliberately as he sank down onto his armchair. The man unbuttoned his jacket before taking the spot on the couch. He set the gun down in front of him on the coffee table. A peace offering, but also a signal that it was within reach if he needed it. Bilbo’s blood was pounding as he forced his dry throat to work.

“What do you want?”

“Gandalf told me you have the information I need.”

Bilbo cocked his head in confusion as his mind raced to process the loaded answer. This man knew Gandalf. He talked to him recently. He knew Smaug.

“What kind of information?” Bilbo played dumb.

“A file came across your desk, and you gave Gandalf a name. I want to know why? What did you see that made you so sure it was him?”

There was almost a maniac gleam in those bright blue eyes. It was something Bilbo related to well. 

“I can show you. I just need to get to my bag.” Bilbo stated, slowly standing up.

The man’s hand twitched towards his gun, but he didn’t pick it up as he nodded his consent. He didn’t take Bilbo as a threat. His mistake. Bilbo grabbed his bag and slid the pistol and cell phone out of the front pocket whirling around on the man. He sighed but put his hands up as he leaned back into the couch. Bilbo’s left hand was shaking as he searched for Gandalf’s number, but his gun hand remained steady and in control. He put the call on speaker so he could watch the man’s face for any slip. However, his expression never changed from slightly bored and exasperated.

“My dear Bilbo, I do hope you haven’t shot our guest yet.”

Bilbo could just kill the AD. He really could. As it was, his posture relaxed just slightly.

“Who is he?” He demanded of Gandalf.

“Someone who has hunted Smaug longer than you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the dramatics and lack of a real answer which seemed to amuse the other man somewhat. This didn’t feel right. Every instinct in Bilbo’s body said to arrest the man across from him if nothing else than because he was dangerous.

“Do you trust him?” Bilbo finally asked, his voice wavering just slightly.

There was a long pause before Gandalf answered.

“I do.” 

Being of no real use, Bilbo hung up the phone after that. He had two choices before him. He could trust Gandalf’s judgement, or he could go with his instincts. He kept the gun trained on the man for a moment longer before lowering it with a sigh. He flipped the safety back on as he stuck it in his waistband, because he wasn’t a total naive idiot, before picking up his bag like he said he was going to initially. When he looked back over, the man’s gun was gone. Bilbo sat stiffly next to him and pulled out the file Gandalf had sent over earlier.

“It was where these fires originated that tipped me off. Here, what do you notice?” Bilbo questioned.

The man furrowed his eyebrows studying the images before he shrugged with a grunt of irritation.

“Placement.” Bilbo pointed out. “There were no traces of accelerant so how do you start a natural fire? Well, very easily. Gas range stove, covered radiator, electrical outlets, but look. Where the spot is most charred we can assume is the start of the fire. It’s nowhere near anything like that. It couldn’t possibly have started naturally. So what set off the fire? Smaug has a very specific MO. He kills using highly concentrated nitroglycerin tablets, smuggable due to their heart relieving counterparts, that when combined with human stomach acid will cause an explosion. And judging by the shape of the darker burn, it’s not a huge leap to assume that there was a human body there.”

“But all of the owners were alive to file insurance claims.” The man pointed out, looking more curious than anything else.

Forgetting that he was a stranger that had a gun trained on him not even ten minutes ago, Bilbo found himself getting more animated at the chance to finally explain his theories.

“So I looked into that after I sent the email to Gandalf. Somehow, every owner was conveniently out of town before the fire happened, and afterwards were able to afford a building or home way above their pay scale. Which even if you take insurance money into account still shouldn’t be possible. I think Smaug was paying them off for access to conduct his dirty work somewhere he couldn’t be tracked. What’s more, all the buildings being used by the same money laundering cleaning service made an easy target for the police.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he seemed to be appraising Bilbo. He smirked before standing.

“Very well, I’ll talk to Gandalf about getting you transferred.”

Bilbo jumped to his feet.

“Transferred? Where? For what purpose?”

“I want you working for me.”

“Now wait just a minute here!” Bilbo demanded as he stomped back into the entry hall. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I won’t be a dirty cop! And don’t try to convince me anything about what we did was legal. Nobody breaks into an FBI agent’s home and holds a gun on him unless they work outside the law.”

The man shook his head with a snort. “Well aren’t you just perceptive.”

“Hang on!”

Bilbo reached out for the man’s arm at the same time he reached for the doorknob. In less than a second, the man had Bilbo’s arm pinned above his head in the wall out of view of the window with Bilbo’s own gun placed under his chin. Bilbo glared into the ice blue eyes inches away from his own as he tried to keep a cool head in an uncomfortable situation.

“Let’s get a couple of things straight.” The man whispered, his breath hot on Bilbo’s face. “One, I don’t answer to anyone, especially not you. Two, you’ll be whatever I want you to be or you don’t get the revenge you so clearly desire. Yeah, I can see in your eyes how badly you want Smaug. Work for me or get the hell out of my way. I don’t really care one way or the other, but Smaug is mine.”

He gave Bilbo one last smirk before shoving the gun in Bilbo’s pocket and stepping away. Without so much as a ‘good evening’, he was gone in the night. Adrenaline shot, Bilbo slid down the wall until his butt met the floor painfully. He let his head lightly bang into the wall behind him a few times as he just focused on breathing. A ‘meow’ alerted him to his company before Myrtle stepped over his legs to rub her head against his arms and stomach.

“And where have you been?” He croaked.

He didn’t get an answer back aside from another ‘meow’ as she seemed rather insistent on getting her dinner. Bilbo closed his eyes and counted to twenty before getting up to finally go to the kitchen. That beer sounded more prevalent than ever.

***

First thing he did the next day was go straight to Gandalf’s office, slamming the door behind him. The older man looked up and gave the analyst a wide smile. 

“Bilbo! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Who the hell was that last night?!”

“Well…” Gandalf huffed.

“Tell me.” Bilbo seethed. “Or I’ll go straight to the top and tell Saruman everything.”

Gandalf pouted. “No need to get testy. Please have a seat. Do you want some tea? Coffee?”

Bilbo let his face fall into his hands. “What I want…” His muffled voice stressed. “Is some answers. What have I just been exposed to?”

Gandalf sighed. “Very well. I believe you are familiar with Oakenshield?”

Bilbo slowly lifted his head to pierce Gandalf with a baffled glare.

“Oakenshield...the crime family? Oakenshield...who got into it with the Orcs several years back and cut off the hand of their boss? That Oakenshield?” 

“The very one.” Gandalf snapped, pleased. “Well that was Thorin.”

“Thorin? As in the head of Oakenshield, Thorin Durin?!” Bilbo’s voice had risen in pitch at this point.

“Of course.” Gandalf nodded as if Bilbo having a conversation in his living room with a dangerous mob boss was akin to making a friend at preschool.

Bilbo collapsed in the chair across from Gandalf as spots danced in his eyes. He white-knuckle gripped the arms as if physically trying to tether himself to the conscious world. I’m not going to pass out. I’m not going to pass out. Bilbo was an analyst! There was a reason he didn’t go out and meet people...well like that. And Gandalf knew Durin. Even worse, Gandalf leaked FBI intel to him. Slowly he lifted his head.

“Did my mother know?” He demanded hoarsely.

“Did she know what?” Gandalf asked, genuinely baffled.

“Did she know you worked for the mafia?”

“Bilbo…”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION, GANDALF!”

The wizened face hardened, reminding Bilbo of the reason why he had yet to retire.

“She suspected...but I never told her, no.”

Bilbo rubbed his jaw as he chuckled on the verge of hysterics.

“She always told me I had to get in your command. Said it was her best days on the force. That you were a good AD. Tell me. What’s your ratio? How many do you let slip off the hook for every one you put behind bars?”

“Now see here, Bilbo Baggins! I will not let you undermine me or my division! Contrary to your belief system, there is more at work here than what you can comprehend.”

“My belief system?” Bilbo scoffed. “You mean THE LAW?”

“Yes.” Gandalf grumped. “The law. The law which can dictate that a pickpocket is guilty but a corporation stealing hours from their underpaid workers is innocent.”

“I’m not going to sit here and debate...politics with you!” Bilbo laughed. “My job is to arrest people like Thorin Durin and there’s nothing you can say that’s ever going to make me think working with the lunatic is a good idea!”

“Not even if he’s your only chance to take down Smaug?”

Bilbo’s face fell into an emotionless mask, except for his eyes burning holes into Gandalf. Without another word, he stood and left the office. If he slammed the door closed with more force than necessary, well that was no one’s business but his own. Luckily, his black mood seemed to engulf him like a siren warning everyone off. He made it to his desk with no distractions ready to pick up where he left off with the embezzlement cases. Only, he couldn’t move as he stared blankly at the wall of his cubicle.

Understandably, his focus was a little off. He figured he should turn Gandalf in, but for the love of his mother’s memory and nothing more, he deemed it best to leave that stone unturned. His decision was immediately questioned when he got a text twenty minutes later from an unknown number with a time and a location and a charming little warning at the end.

Come alone.

Bilbo snorted as he tossed his phone on his desk. Absolutely not. An hour later, he found himself procrastinating the embezzlement case again to pull up the bureau's database on Smaug, Dracon. It was all information Bilbo had practically memorized at this point. His eyes drifted towards his phone with the text he had already committed to memory before shaking his head and exiting out of his search. Bilbo was an analyst for the FBI. He had his integrity and moral responsibility to ignore psychopathic crime bosses who wanted to use him for a turf war. He wasn’t so single-mindedly driven by revenge regardless of what Gandalf or Oakenshield said. His phone buzzed again.

Belladonna Took’s son was meant for more than sitting behind a desk for the rest of his life. Thorin was impressed. At least hear him out tonight, and if you absolutely feel like you can’t join the team, we won’t bother you ever again.

Bilbo threw his phone with a string of curses that had everyone around him staring with wide eyes. Bilbo dragged his hands down his face. This was such an easy decision. He just had to say no! No, no, no, no. Why couldn’t he say no?

Because you’ve never felt more excited about any case before? Because you trained for months to be a field agent before making an abstaining promise to your father at your mother’s grave? Because you’ve never felt closer to getting your mother’s killer, and that’s a sweet taste that just won’t go away?

Bilbo cursed himself with every swear in the book when the cab pulled up outside the restaurant that was texted to him. His nerves were singing. Everything about this felt wrong and dirty. And yet...he opened the door to let himself in.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #i've been binging a lot of 99 and blacklist #that's not terribly obvious #right?

[athenasbloodyspear]

The Viper: Chapter Two

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Find this fic on Ao3.

This fic is 18+ for violence and eventual sexual content. Please read at your own risk.

Master list

“I know where to find her.” Nat pipes up from her spot at the table. 

No one had moved since the Viper had shot out the security camera. 

Tony whipped his head to look at her and scoffed. “Oh? Are you an omnipresent God who knows all? Because if Friday can’t find her, I think we’re fucked.” 

“I know a place in the city where someone like her could disappear. Where I would disappear if I were her. It’s a hunch, but I have a feeling it’s where she is.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Care to enlighten us?” 

“The Mist.” Nat said simply. 

“Okay that just sounds fake.” Sam scoffed. 

“It’s not.” Nat snapped, “It’s an underground nightclub in Brooklyn. Famously has no cameras anywhere. The name is a nod to the fact that it’s a blind spot in the city. It’s filled with people in similarly seedy professions and rich and powerful people looking for illegal fun.” 

“Alrighty then. Sounds like my kinda place.” Tony rubbed his palms together. Steve just groaned. 

“You’re telling me this woman would hide out in a nightclub full of people who potentially know there’s a bounty on her head?” Bruce chimed in. 

“Yes. It’s highly frowned upon for outside business to interfere with the fun inside, so if anyone is hoping to make the hit they would have to wait for her to leave. Hence why I bet she waits there a long time.” 

“How do you know about this place Nat?” Steve countered. 

“How do you think I know about this place, Rogers?” She spat back. 

“Whatever, you two. Suit up for an evening at the club and meet us all back here in an hour.” Tony interrupted before Steve could stick his foot in his mouth. “Banner, you’re excused.” 

“Thank god.” Bruce sighed. 

“The rest of you are going. I’m staying here to monitor cameras with Friday and see if I can scrounge up any more interesting tidbits on our new friend.” 

“Great.” Bucky muttered to himself. A club. His favorite thing in the world. 

Not.

--

After a particularly complicated series of sneaking into various clothing stores in Manhattan you’d finally stolen something acceptable to wear for your evening of fun. 

You could feel the adrenaline pumping through you still. This whole thing was a massive gamble and you knew that. 

At any moment it could all come crashing down. In a lot of ways. 

You hadn’t been this out of control in a very long time. It was terrifying. 

But you would gamble with your life if you had to. It didn’t matter to you anymore. There was only one thing that did and you would give everything for it. 

So you’d continue to spiral out of control. To rely on others' choices. 

You didn’t have any other options. 

--

Bucky was relieved to discover that while this underground club was a club it at least wasn’t deafeningly loud. At least not in every section of the club. 

He was horrified to discover that the “underground” descriptor wasn’t only figurative. The club space was in the basement of a non descript warehouse that screamed Hydra wannabe. Everything in the club was a shade of black.  There was an upper floor, where the team was currently spread out, with many lush couches and smaller tables. It was more reminiscent of jazz bar’s he’d been to in the 40’s. The upper level had a metal railing that looked over into what could only be described as a pit. There was a large black marble bar along one wall of the lower floor and the rest was a dance floor. Or at least that’s what Nat had said, all he could see was a sea of bodies smashed together writhing. Apparently that was dancing. 

Even more horrifying was the fact that there were no windows. Not a single one. And the only exit that anyone knew of was the single door they came in. It was eating his skin alive. He felt so suffocated. Trapped in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

He knew if he voiced this to Steve, he would immediately tell him to go home and the rest of them would probably be fine on their own. However, there was something keeping him here. He felt a pull towards this enigma of a woman and he needed to see her with his own eyes. Something in his gut told him she needed his help. He didn’t really know how or why, but his instincts were rarely wrong and he was tired of ignoring them. 

Even if his instincts were fighting within him at the moment. 

“Anything?” Nat questioned through the coms from where she sat on a sofa, pretending to chat with some diplomat from a country Bucky couldn’t think of right now. 

“No one who looks like what I think I’m looking for.” Steve replied. He’d been the only one who had offered to venture downstairs surprisingly. Bucky didn’t know how he could do it. 

“Sam?” Nat prompted. Sam had taken to exploring some of the strange and windy back hallways of the upper floor that lead to restrooms and stock rooms and who-knew-what-else rooms. Again, Bucky didn’t know how he willingly ventured into this creepy hell hole. 

“Nada.” Sam mumbled, “Have seen lots of faces I recognize from front pages of magazines. Most in compromising positions. Gonna be hard to forget.” 

“Gross.” Bucky muttered. He heard Nat’s soft laugh filter through the com. “I haven’t…” Bucky started. His thought cut off abruptly. 

He was standing at a railing, looking down on the pit from an aerial view, when he saw her. 

She was stunning, even though he knew she was trying to keep a low profile. It wasn’t anything in the way she looked necessarily, even though she looked amazing in her slim black velvet suit. When she shifted he noted that she wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the blazer and he hoped that there was some sort of tape involved to keep the lapels in place on her chest. The smooth expanse of skin he could see between the jacket was nearly too much to handle already. 

No, it wasn’t the outfit that made her stunning. She simply was so commanding and present that her energy was intoxicating, even from his perch a floor above. He didn’t understand how everyone around her wasn’t staring at her. He couldn’t really remember what he was supposed to do now that he was faced with her. 

She was the new him, he realized. Her hair fell to her shoulders, almost a direct replica of the mop of tousled locks on his head, only darker. He noticed she didn’t look nearly as robotic in this space compared to the videos he’d seen of her. 

I knew it. He thought. This is the real her. 

“Care to finish that thought big guy?” Sam chuckled through the coms, snapping Bucky out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. 

“I uh…” Bucky started again. “I’m lookin at her.” 

He heard voices come through the coms, asking where the hell he was and where she was but he couldn’t speak.

He watched her, you, toss back a shot of some dark liquid. 

As he stared, your eyes shifted up and locked with his. 

Every sound in the world disappeared for him. Bucky couldn’t hear a thing but the pounding of his own heart. There was a string between the two of you that went taught as you stared at each other. 

Some part of his brain registered his increasingly frustrated friends trying to get his attention through the coms but he didn’t even dare blink, let alone speak. He was convinced that if he even twitched you would disappear into the smoky haze of the room. 

“I see her.” He heard suddenly through the com. Steve must have spotted you across the room from him downstairs. “I’m closing in.” 

Bucky watched the corners of your mouth peel into a tiny little smirk. His dry eyes forced him to blink and when his lids opened again, you were gone. 

Fuck. He thought. 

“What the hell was that, Buck?” Steve snapped through the coms. “I lost her. Anyone else still see her?” 

“The only way out is the front door.” Nat breathed. Everyone shifted instantly to beeline for the front. Even if you snuck out before them, Bucky knew you couldn’t have gone very far. 

--

You careened out the front, gasping in fresh breaths of air as you peeled to the left and down the sidewalk at a quick pace. You felt grateful you’d forgone the heels for high top sneakers tonight as you needed to haul ass. Fast. You didn’t really know why you suddenly felt the need to flee. Your intention had been to attempt to speak to them inside, where you had the upper hand.  

But every well laid plan had flown out the window when you’d locked eyes with the Winter Soldier. Or Bucky as he was now called. 

He looked the same. 

He looked different in every way possible. 

It ripped a hole in your chest. 

So you ran. 

You paused briefly to stuff your fingers to the back of your throat, forcing the liquor you’d nervously pounded out of your stomach. You were gonna need every bit of your cunning. They were all there, and you were vulnerable out on the street now. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

Why had you run? Why did you run from him? 

You heard the door crash open a half a block behind you. 

--

Bucky was the first one out the door. Sam had to wind out from the back of the building, Nat had to disentangle herself from conversation and Steve had to make his way up from the bottom floor. He was at an advantage. 

His instincts were telling him that he needed to be the first one to intercept you. He felt territorial about it. He didn’t know why, but something shifted while you had stared at each other. It was a glimmer, nearly lost in the recesses of his mind, but he knew you. Somehow. 

When he looked to his left, he captured the image of you, curled over your knees, emptying your stomach onto the curb. 

What the fuck? 

“Please don’t run.” Bucky yelled. “Please I swear we don’t want to kill you.”  

He watched you straighten yourself up, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth. 

“That sounds exactly like something someone who wanted to kill me would say.” You chuckle. 

Your voice. It’s… exactly like he imagined it. 

It’s nothing like he imagined it. 

Before he can process the whirlwind of emotions in his head, you’ve taken off. He bolts after you. After a few strides he hears the door blow open behind him as the rest of the team flies out of the establishment. 

He has to get to you first. 

--

You sprint as hard as you ever have. It hurts more, now that you’re fully in control. You hate it. 

You love it. 

It makes you furious.

You careen around corners and slip between crowds of people, trying your damnedest to throw them off their trail. Eventually you skid to a halt next to an older BMW parallel parked on a busy street, slamming your elbow into the corner of the back window, shattering the glass. You reach through the now open hole and manually unlock the drivers door, not caring that the remaining glass catches and opens your skin. 

“Wait!” A voice calls across the street. It’s him. You fight the urge to cover your ears. That voice. 

You scramble into the front seat, reaching under the dash to rip the wires of the starter out of the plastic covering. As you fumble with your hands you glance up, watching the Winter Soldier fling himself expertly through moving traffic towards you. 

“Shit shit shit.” You mutter to yourself. You finally free the wires,  ripping the ends open and tapping them together until they spark and the engine roars to life. 

Thank god. 

You shift into drive, rip up the E-brake and prepare to step on the gas. You glance once behind you to monitor the traffic roaring down the one way street. There’s an opening. 

When you shift your body back forward to grab the wheel, he’s almost to you. His eyes are wild. 

Pleading. 

What are you doing? 

I’m holding your hand. 

Why? 

I don’t know. 

The pain in your chest is nearly unbearable now. You force your facial features to shift into a wide smirk and flip him off before slamming on the gas as hard as you can. 

The e-brake holds the front wheels in place as the back wheels squeal on the ground, spinning the vehicle around in place until you’re facing the wrong way down the one-way. 

Finally. 

You punch it. 

--

Bucky watches you tear off in the stolen car, panting for breath. 

There was a moment. Just a moment where he’d seen something in your face and then a mask had locked down over your features. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. The agony in your eyes when you saw him just now. 

He must know you. 

How? 

“I lost her.” Bucky pants into the coms. “I… lost her.” 

Nat and Steve came sprinting up behind Bucky, placing her hands on her knees to suck in hair. 

“I’ll tail her.” Sam called. Swooping up in the skies and taking off in the direction where Bucky’s eyes were trained. 

“I don’t understand.” Nat pants. “She would never have been found if she didn’t want to be.” 

“Why did she run?” Steve questioned. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky murmured. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the last place he’d seen your car. 

“What happened in there Bucky?” Steve turned to look at him. 

“I… don’t know.” He murmured again. 

“I’m gonna need more than that pal.” Steve prompted, placing his hands on his hips. 

“She… She looked at me.” He choked out. Steve guffawed, dropping his head back to look at the sky. Beside him, Nat eyed him curiously. “I can’t explain it, but it felt… like I knew her. Like we were connected somehow.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Bucky?” Steve clipped. “You just stood there while she ran.”  

“Shut the fuck up Steve.” Nat snapped. 

“What?” Steve turned to her then. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he was basically paralyzed in there?” 

“No.” She snapped. “I think that there’s some deeper story here we don’t understand and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a part of it.” 

Steve looked to Bucky then, a little more sobered now, and murmured. “You know her?” 

“No.” Bucky said immediately. “At least, not really. But there’s something. She looked at me like…” 

Like you did when I was falling from that train. 

Just then Sam dropped out of the sky and landed next to them. 

“She must have noticed me and ditched the car a few blocks over. Went into a subway station.” Sam sighed. “Needless to say, I lost her.” 

The whole group stands together, panting staring down the street where they’d last seen you. 

Bucky finally breaks his silence.

“I need to find her.”

--

His damned voice.

TAGLIST:

@maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky x Female Reader

[amyscascadingtabs]

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

She realizes Jake and Amy have never gotten to keep anything about their relationship secret; not their pining, not becoming a couple, not getting engaged, or even trying for a baby. She supposes they deserve to keep something to themselves for once, even if they’re worthless at it.

Or, Rosa has always been strangely involved in Jake and Amy's relationship, and the two of them becoming parents doesn't appear to change this.

read on ao3 ✨

...

“You’re really not going to drink that?”

Amy gives the glass of Shaw’s finest - and only - charbonnay a look like she's worried it will bite her.

They’re having a celebration, Holt has announced, to one month without Madeline Wuntch. Then he’d seemed teary by those words, telling the squad it was also to honor her memory. No one’s certain what's going on, but no one minds the free alcohol either.

Except, it seems, Amy.

 “I’m driving.”

“Don't you and Jake always take an Uber home?”

“We’re trying to save money.”

“For what?”

“Fertility treatments are expensive,” she says, too quickly and too comfortably. “I don't want to talk about it, Rosa.”

  Rosa knows she’s being rude, but she can't help it. She had to be sure. She’s both a detective and a master of secret-keeping, skilled enough to sense from fifty feet away when someone else is guarding them, and she's had a feeling about this particular secret for weeks.

  She’d give herself credit, but it’s not like it’s been difficult to figure out. Amy literally told Rosa the day after she and Jake decided to start trying, whispering the words to her with a giddy smile as soon as they were alone in the break room. It became public knowledge rather quickly, and it’s not like the couple was working hard on keeping it a secret when they got wasted during Hitchcock’s wedding, high-fived after Amy’s drunken toast, and proceeded to try and fuck in the guinea pig-closet.

(Honestly? Rosa was impressed.)

  They took a break from it shortly after that. Then, Amy started eating some kind of hormonal stimulation medication and morphed into one of the most emotional, irritable Amy-s Rosa had ever seen. Then she got weird.

  It started with her and Jake avoiding Shaw’s. Sometimes Jake would show up to have a drink or two with Charles, but he'd never stay longer than half an hour. Terry asked about it once, joking that he wondered whether Amy just didn't like the squad anymore, at which point Jake laughed nervously and changed the topic.

Now, Rosa’s noticed that Amy’s coffee intake has gone down from three or four cups a day to one and a half at max. She makes a point of sitting as far away from Boyle and his lunches as possible. She’s begun to seem distant, always slightly distracted in conversation, and she gravitates towards Jake even more than usual. Several times now, Rosa’s found them in a corner of the corridor, whispering together and stopping the moment they notice her.

  So yeah, she’s figured their secret out alright, and no, she doesn’t believe they’re planning to adopt a monitor lizard and that’s why Jake was searching baby names on his computer the other day.

  What Rosa doesn’t understand is why Amy doesn’t tell her. She can keep a secret. She was the one who bought every kind of pregnancy test she could find in the bodega when Amy was freaking out at the manhunt, and the one who listened when she finally admitted that trying to conceive was starting to stress her out. If Amy can share something so personal with her, venting her little heart out over a drink in a lone corner of Shaw’s late one evening, Rosa doesn't get why she can't share this.

  “So you're doing the treatments, then?”

“I just said I don't want to talk about it,” Amy snaps, then sighs and leans her head in one hand. “Sorry. Tired.”

“You’ve taken a bunch of days off recently, haven't you?”

“I had a family emergency,” she says, and Rosa knows she's lying through her teeth. No one ever uses that line when they're really having a family emergency. “Hey, why are you interrogating me?”

“Just making conversation,” Rosa shrugs. If Amy can lie, so can she. “You want a soda or something instead?”

“I’m good. Thanks for the gesture, though.” She lifts the wine glass in her hand, still looking at it warily. “I’ll just... give this to Jake. Talk to you later?”

“Sure. Later.”

Amy gives her a careful smile, sliding off the barstool and heading towards the table where Jake has joined Terry, Sharon, and the Captain. Rosa watches as Jake makes space for her, his whole demeanor lighting up when he sees her. She places the glass next to his beer, whispering something underneath her breath, and Jake nods before taking it from her and swallowing half of it in quick sips. It’s not even subtle, Rosa thinks.

  She's just about to wonder where Charles is and why he isn’t in that same booth asking overly invasive questions when he joins her on the same barstool Amy just left.

“Hey, Ro-ro.” He must’ve had a few drinks already, she deduces from the nickname.

“I’ve told you never to call me that unless you want your tires slashed.”

Charles ignores her. “You're noticing it too, right? With Amy?”

“You mean her acting even weirder than normal? Yep. Pretty sure everyone’s noticed.”

An elated grin appears on Charles’ face, so wide it shows his teeth. Rosa scrunches her nose. “I think I know why.”

“It’s really not hard to guess.”

“That's not why I know!” The shrill, drunken voice earns them a confused glance from Jake, and Rosa shoots Charles a warning glare to make him lower his volume. “Sorry,” he whispers. “It's just - I woke up one night, and I knew.”

“That you're unhealthily obsessed with your best friend's marriage and it's creepy?”

“Pfft. No. I already knew that. I woke up, and I could feel it. Amy’s -”

“Pregnant, yeah. We all figured it out.”

“I can sense it, Rosa.” He gives her a serious nod, the eye contact almost unnerving. “This is not about some groundless guess, some circumstantial evidence… this is real.”

“... yeah. So?”

“So? So! We have to tell them we know! I don't understand why they're keeping this to themselves!”

  Rosa bites her lip. She knows where Charles is coming from. She was thinking it too, watching her best friend get nervous just from holding a glass of wine and scrambling to come up with a fake excuse to avoid it. She doesn't get why this has to be a secret. Everybody knows they've been trying, and it's so obvious something is up that even Hitchcock and Scully seem to be taking notice at this point. She could walk over to that table right now and tell Jake and Amy she knows, everyone knows, and they don’t have to pretend or keep this a secret when everyone is happy for their sake.

And yet Rosa stays where she is, because while she laughs at their futile attempts of keeping it on the down-low, she knows why.

  It feels like it’s never going to happen at this point, Amy had whispered to her just two months ago. Like it’s not meant to be.

That’s bullshit, Rosa replied, but Amy shook her head.

  She knows this has been a long journey for Jake and Amy. She also knows the fear that comes with gaining something you’ve spent a long time fighting for, then worrying that the universe is messing with you, and you’ll wake up tomorrow finding it was all a dream. There’s a reason Rosa’s kept nearly all her relationships secret until her partners have been begging to meet the squad, and it goes beyond her just being a private person.

  She realizes Jake and Amy have never gotten to keep anything about their relationship secret; not their pining, not becoming a couple, not getting engaged, or even trying for a baby. She supposes they deserve to keep something to themselves for once, even if they’re worthless at it.

  “We can’t tell them we know,” she decides. Charles opens his mouth to protest, but Rosa hushes him.

“But -”

“Nope, Boyle. Look, I get that it's obvious, but it's their choice. Just because you told everyone the moment you decided to adopt doesn't mean Jake has to tell every perp he arrests that he's going to be a dad.”

Charles looks down at his shoes and swallows the last of his free wine. “I just want to celebrate with them. Seven years I’ve waited for this - ”

“You’ll get to celebrate with them. They can't keep it a secret forever. Maybe they're just waiting until the twelve-week mark or something.” Rosa takes a swig of her whiskey. “It can't be that much longer anyway. She's going to start showing at some point, right? Makes no sense to hide it from us after that. I mean, what’s she going to do? Wear a hazmat suit?”

Charles sighs. “Yeah, yeah. You're right.”

  He gives Jake and Amy a longing look. Jake has his arm around Amy now, and she’s resting her head on his shoulder, eyes closed like she’s moments from falling asleep. Jake whispers something to her, lips brushing against her forehead, and she blinks before mumbling something back. Small, tender gestures of affection, the kind that would drive Rosa crazy if it was anyone else, but ones she’s gotten used to with them. After the stress and lack of romance Amy described to her during the months they were trying, it even makes her happy to see.

  It must be making Charles happy, too, because he’s tearing up.

“Anyway,” he says before Rosa can tell him to stop crying. “I’m going to go vent about this over the phone to Genevieve so I don’t go crazy. Good talk, Ro-ro.”

“Don’t”, she warns him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

  Jake and Amy stand up only a minute after, grabbing their jackets and saying their goodbyes. Amy meets eyes with Rosa for a second, mouthing a quick bye, and Rosa nods in return. She watches them as they make their way out of the bar, arms still around each other, and hides a smile when she sees Jake’s hand rest softly against Amy’s stomach through her sweater. It's only a second before Amy moves it away, looking around in fear that someone will have noticed, but it’s enough for Rosa to know.

She might be a good detective, but Jake and Amy also happen to be the world’s worst secret-keepers.

          ...

 There was more than one reason as to why Rosa Diaz dropped out of medical school, but right now, as she’s flipping through the pages of the very detailed and very graphic book she found on Jake’s desk, she can only remember the one.

  It was the second day on her final rotation in third year - obstetrics and gynecology - and for some reason, her supervisor thought it’d be a useful and educational experience for her to be part of a birth. She wouldn't have to do anything, just observe and learn. Not one to complain, Rosa had accepted, put on her gloves, and entered the delivery room with a forced upbeat smile on her face.

  At the end of the day, that smile had since long been wiped off, as had what felt like a bucket of blood, goo, and other equally gross, slimy stuff. Also, Rosa had dropped out of medical school.

She’d observed during surgeries, been puked on by sick and screaming children, and once met a patient with a broken arm where the bone was sticking out, but childbirth had been the final straw. Three years of medical school and thousands of dollars in student debt went down the drain. She applied to business school in hopes of making up the money and told herself she hadn’t been that crazy about med school in the end. Having to put on a smile and be polite to needy patients wasn’t her thing anyway, and at least in business school, people were upfront about being jerks.

  Sixteen years had passed since the day Rosa almost threw up from watching the so-called miracle of life. Tonight, it seemed she was about to unwillingly witness it again.

  A drawn-out, pained moan brings Rosa back to reality, where Amy has since long given up all attempts of hiding her contractions. She glances at her watch, grimacing as she realizes it's the third contraction in five minutes coming to an end. Amy's started leaning with her elbows on the pool table for the duration of them, muttering a creative string of curses in mixed English and Spanish, and it might have looked funny if it wasn't seeming like this baby was about to be born in the break room.

  “Fuck this shit,” Amy mumbles, and Rosa can only agree. “Fuck everything about this. This wasn't how it was supposed to - fuck.” She goes down on her elbows again, swaying from side to side. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Well worded.”

“Shut up.”

“They're getting worse?”

“Mm-hmm.”

All traces of the confident sergeant that insisted she didn’t need to go to the hospital, who’s spent the blackout answering every offer to help with a razor-sharp remark about how they could help her best by following her orders, seem to have disappeared. When Amy exhales, Rosa can see tears in her eyes, a reserved expression of panic amid the frustration.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” she repeats as she sits down on the well-stained couch. “Look. I wasn’t even that picky, okay? I didn’t need a super wholesome and peaceful dream experience or anything. As long as everything went well, the baby was okay and I was okay. But I wanted a hospital,” she sniffles. “And I wanted Jake there. I didn’t think that was too much to a-aa…”

She leans against the side of the couch this time, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth through another contraction. Rosa feels helpless. It’s not a feeling she has often, and it’s not one she's a fan of. She reaches out to gently pat Amy’s back, but it feels awkward, so she stops.

  “It wasn’t too much to ask,” she says. “But you’re not going to make it to the hospital. So we're going to need another plan.”

“The firefighters.” Amy blushes. “I know we hate them, but…”

“They’re basically a bunch of glorified EMTs who sleep in bunk beds. Meaning, they can deliver a baby in an emergency.”

Amy nods, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing her hand against the top of her stomach. “I don’t want to do this to him, Rosa.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if this doesn’t go well? What if he won’t be okay? What if something happens and it’s my fault because I couldn’t go to the hospital? What if this makes me a terrible mom?”

Amy’s eyes are wide and she’s chewing on her lip, and Rosa thinks she would start braiding her hair if it wasn't already in a messy ponytail. Most of her worries sound like straight-up insanity to Rosa’s ears, but she supposes that wouldn’t be the right thing to tell Amy at this moment.

“You think you’re the first woman ever to give birth outside of a hospital?” She asks instead. “Because you’re not. That baby’s going to be fine. He’ll probably plop right out onto the floor -”

“Oh my god, don't let him touch the floor!”

“Fine. No floor. Whatever. But you can do this.” She stares right back at Amy and channels all the persuasion she has inside of her. “Okay?”

Amy hiccups. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.”

  Amy groans and stands up to lean against the pool table again, doing the same rhythmic swaying with her hips. A uniformed officer gives her a curious look as he walks past.

“It’s what we’re doing, though. So get it together.” Rosa regrets it the moment she says it and Amy freezes. For a split second, Rosa wonders if she’s going to punch her, or at the very least yell something, but Amy just looks surprised before letting out a noise sounding vaguely like a cackle.

“Did you just tell me to get it together?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Rosa shakes her head. “Just - stay here while I go get a firefighter. Try not to give birth while I’m gone.”

  Three firefighters are still hanging around the bullpen, drinking coffee from paper cups and laughing at some anecdote. Rosa scrunches her nose at them from a distance. She wonders why she didn't force Amy into a car to the hospital hours ago, but it's too late now. No matter how much she hates the fire department and how humiliating she finds it to have to ask for their help twice in one day, she loves her friend just that little bit more. Marginally, but still more.

In an ideal world, Rosa would have wished a luxurious birthing suite with a wide range of pain relief, some nerdy relaxing music like the Harry Potter soundtrack, skillful doctors, and Jake there for her best friend to go through something as terrible as labor with - but since none of that seems to be in the realm of possibility anymore, the least she can do is make sure there’s some kind of a medical professional there. She owes Amy that much.

  Rosa grabs the arm of the firefighter standing closest to her. He’s short but muscular with a beard that reminds her of a childhood best friend’s stay-at-home dad, giving out a caring and reliable energy in the midst of the precinct’s inferno. He feels safe, and although Rosa’s never given birth herself, she imagines that’s a valuable trait for the situation.

“Need any help?” Even his smile is like taken out of a pamphlet for parent cooperatives and terrace-houses with collective barbeques.

“I do. Have you ever delivered a baby before?”

“Oh, that's a funny story!” He chuckles. “I’ve actually delivered three. They're great stories, you should hear -”

“Cool, cool, cool, don't have time, don't care. Wanna deliver a fourth? Like, tonight? Right now?”

Without waiting for a reply, she drags him to the break room.

  Judging from the strained expression and eyes clenched shut, Amy’s in the middle of a contraction when they return.

“I found a firefighter.” Rosa points to their new companion. “This is, uhm -”

“Curt.”

“Huh. Anyway, he's delivered three babies before, and they're all fine. Well, I think. He can help. Right?”

“Absolutely!” Curt nods. “You’re Amy, right? Tell me where we're at.”

“Contractions at one to one and a half minute apart, lasting about thirty to forty seconds,” Rosa fills in for her friend, pointing to her watch.

“Can you talk through them?” Curt looks to Amy, who shakes her head with her lips pressed together before exhaling.

“Not anymore. There's -” She screws up her face. “Ouf. Pressure.”

“Pressure like you need to push?” Curt’s voice is calm, even though Rosa can't for the life of her understand how. Amy nods shortly.

Rosa stares at her. “Are you sure?”

Amy stares back with a death glare, and Rosa holds up her hands in retreat.

“Okay, not going to question you on that. Cool.”

“Well, that answers my question,” says Curt, the most cheerful one in the room by far. “I’ll get my emergency kit and we'll make some space on the couch. Let's do this!”

  “I'm scared,” Amy whispers once they're alone again. Her timid voice is a sharp contrast to her earlier groans and screams. Rosa looks at her and sees the same Amy she comforted during long nights when Jake was in Florida, the Amy that shines through every time her husband's in danger again, no matter how hard she tries to suppress it. Rosa's never been great at comforting, but she could never leave her best friend like this. That instinct is just enough to overpower some of her hate for the situation.

“I know,” she says, stroking away a few pearls of sweat from Amy’s forehead. “But you’re going to be okay.”

“You really think so?”

She nods, and it seems to be a relief to Amy, who manages a tentative smile in return. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  In the end, it’s probably Hitchcock and Scully - and maybe Lieutenant Peanut Butter - who end up being the most unlikely heroes of the day, but when the ambulance finally arrives to relieve her of her duties, Rosa’s still pretty damn proud of herself.

  If only Dr. Mervin could have seen me now, she thinks as she burns the afterbirth-covered outfit, remembering the snarky supervisor who had simply nodded and shut the office door in her face when Rosa told her she would be dropping out.

  She’s never, ever, delivering a baby again, though.

        ...

        Rosa’s not crazy, so she waits a few days after Jake and Amy come home from the hospital before she asks to visit.

Even then, she’s careful. She remembers how militant Gina was with her minimal-visitors policy after Iggy was born, how she demanded everyone who came brought food and offered to clean up because she ‘sure as hell wasn’t doing any of that crap five days after pushing a living human out of her vagina’, and the last thing she wants is to be a nuisance to two new parents who are probably exhausted as is.

  Mac is a week old the day Rosa texts Jake and Amy to ask if she can come over. She assures them that it's okay if they're too tired, that she can bring food if they want, but it's only ten minutes before Amy's replied Not necessary, you're always welcome and Jake's added Mac misses his auntie Ro-Ro. The nickname makes her touched, and she wonders briefly who she's become.

  She brings food anyway, a hearty chicken stew made from a family recipe, plus a batch of oatmeal cookies; she’s got manners, and, well, she's not an animal.

  It's Jake who opens. He looks surprised to see her, even though they were just texting hours ago.

“Hey, Diaz.” He can't have washed his hair in a while. It looks crazy, curls and tufts sticking up in random patterns, it doesn't look like he's shaved and his outfit seems taken from the days when they worked that apartment murder that drove them both insane. At least he’s wearing pants this time. Sweatpants, but Rosa supposes he's got an excuse.

“Amy's in the bedroom with Mac,” he explains before she can ask. “They were napping, but I just heard him start crying and instantly go quiet again, so now I’m guessing they’re nursing. They’ll be out soon.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I came to see you, too.”

  She’d expected their apartment to be way messier, but it looks surprisingly neat. The dining table has been taken over by flowers and greeting cards, there are bottles drying next to the sink and a baby swing next to the armchair, but the space is still tidy. Rosa’s impressed, and a little worried about Amy.

“I brought food,” she says, putting the first container on the kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, you did? I’m sure it's even edible!” Jake lights up. “Charles has given us loads too, but, y’know. I love him, but he's Charles, and anything he cooks is also… Charles.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.” He gives the chicken stew a closer look, poking at the plastic lid. “This looks great. Thanks, Rosa.”

“You're welcome.”

He smiles, a yawn following suit that he makes no effort to hide. Rosa feels bad for him, but it looks pretty funny, like his mouth is about to stretch into an abyss before he's done.

“Tired?”

“I’ll be real with you, I have not slept in a while. You want coffee?”

“Dude, it's 8 p.m.”

“Excellent observation, Diaz. Would you mind explaining that to my son?” Something in his expression changes when he says the word son. There’s a pride in his voice as he pronounces it, weighing the syllable like he can’t get enough. “I love him more than anything, but wow, he’s a shit sleeper. You want tea instead?” Jake's already digging in a cabinet. “We have, uhm… Earl Grey, lemon, and something called lactation tea. Maybe you don’t want that.” He sniffs the jar. “Smells pretty good, though. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it?”

“Lemon’s fine. Oh, and I’ve got cookies, too.”

“Who are you?”

  “I gotta say, I thought your place would be chaos.” They’ve brought their cups to the couch, where Jake is already on his third cookie and getting crumbs all over the blue flannel. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, my wife is a superhero.” Rosa raises a brow, and he quickly adds, “fine, I’ve done most of this, just so she doesn’t have to stress over it. And my mom was here yesterday. The first thing still stands, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being there with her,” he says, and the gravity in his tone takes her by surprise.

“I did nothing,” she mumbles. “You would have done a much better job. Maybe she would have even listened to you if you’d told her to go to the hospital.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that. She can be pretty…”

“Obstinate?”

“I was going to say determined, but sure. Sometimes.” Jake shakes his head. “I say that with love. Anyway, I’m glad it was you. Can you imagine if it had been Charles? She might have killed the man, which would have put such a damper on the whole night, don’t you think? Nah. You were great.”

He meets her eyes again as he says it, and Rosa looks away. She’s rarely one to appreciate flattery, but after the intensity of the situation and the slight guilt she felt afterward over not being the source of calm medical school taught her she should be - some of it’s welcomed.

“Sorry your son had to be delivered by a firefighter.”

“Yeah, that’s tragic, isn’t it?” Jake laughs. “But you helped, too. That’s a pretty cool story to tell Mac about his aunt Rosa one day. I know you hated it, but thank you for staying with her.”

“I wouldn’t have left her.”

“I know.”

  Neither of them says anything else in response. She can tell what he means anyway, and knows he can do the same with her. She forgets, sometimes, how long she’s known him; longer than she’s known anyone else at the precinct. She still remembers the goofy student who was restless in a classroom but always sharp as a knife during practical training, the guy she met her first day at the Academy and immediately took a liking to; not just because he seemed like the type who didn’t care about her past or personal life, but also because he was passionate. About Die Hard, taking down bad guys, and about making the people around him feel better, not that he would have confessed the last part.

  She still remembers one morning during their second month of the Academy, when she’d arrived at training red-eyed after a bad fight with her boyfriend at the time. Without asking what had happened, Jake spent the entire day pointing out every detail he thought had a chance of making her snicker, and by the end of the day, she’d forgotten about the fight. He’s still the same, she thinks. A few years older, more emotionally mature, and less insistent on dying a heroic death while saving the city from a terrorist attack - but the thoughtfulness and the need to make sure the people he loves are safe and taken care of remains the same.

  Rosa hears steps in the hallway, accompanied by what sounds like the shy whining Arlo does when he’s hiding after doing something naughty, and looks up to see Amy. She’s holding Mac against her chest and stroking his back through the baby pink blanket, but he’s still fussing a little. Jake jumps up faster than Rosa knew the man could move, and she watches as the couple exchanges the infant between their arms with so much carefulness. They look practiced, but in a way where they don’t trust it about themselves, where the confidence doesn’t yet match the skill.

“Diaper change?” Jake asks, and Amy nods. “Amazing. Dad duty calls,” he grins, disappearing with Mac to the nursery.

“You make him do all the diaper changes?” Rosa asks as Amy joins her on the couch.

“Almost. I did the hard work, he’s gotta catch up.” She reaches for Jake’s cup, swallowing the last of the lukewarm coffee. “And he offers.”

  Amy looks far more exhausted now than when Rosa last saw her in the hospital, the bags under her eyes not even hidden by makeup and her ponytail frizzy. She's wearing sweatpants again and the same flannel and shirt-combo as Jake, only hers is pink and not blue. Rosa wonders if their coordination is intentional or simple habit.

“So… how are you doing?”

It's not a question she asks often, but this time, she cares about the answer.

“I’m so tired,” Amy fires back the second Rosa finishes her sentence, like she's been bursting to complain over it. “Sore. Crying at everything. We’re just trying to figure it out.” She sighs, and then she gets a smile on her lips. “But it’s good. He's objectively the best, most wonderful baby ever.”

“Worth it?”

“Yeah, but that was never a question.”

  Jake returns from the diaper change with Mac, who still doesn't quite seem content where he squirms in his father's arms, instantly gaining Amy's attention.

“Clean baby, still not happy,” Jake reports. “Maybe he didn't finish eating?”

“Could be,” Amy says, stretching out her arms to take him. “I’ll see if he's still hungry. You can go take a shower if you want. I’ve got Rosa.”

“Do I need to shower?”

“Yes, babe, you do.”

Jake grimaces, but he's off to the bathroom as soon as Amy returns her focus to the baby in her arms. Mac’s turning his whole body against her chest like it couldn't be clearer what he's after, and Amy sighs as she starts unbuttoning the flannel.

“You don't mind, right?”

“Why would I mind? You're feeding your baby,” Rosa shrugs. “I’ve seen a lot worse, if you remember. I think I can handle accidentally catching a glimpse of your boob.”

Amy blushes. “Guess you’ve got a point.”

  It takes them a minute, Amy talking to her son in a low, soothing voice as he keeps tensing and fussing before he catches on. Rosa looks away, wanting to give them some privacy, but she can hear the moment Mac starts suckling and the sigh of relief that follows from Amy.

“There you go,” she says. “We just need to relax, and we’re good.”

  There’s a tenderness even to the way she speaks to him, like love is packed into each word. Rosa thinks of the way Amy hid her pregnancy for months in fear that something would go wrong, and how scared she was that giving birth under less than ideal circumstances would somehow make her a bad mom. She doesn’t seem as scared anymore. Rather, there’s an air of quiet confidence over her when she’s holding him, and it’s moving to see.

“Slow down, McClane,” she whispers, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know you’re hungry, but if you keep going like that, you’re going to puke, okay? We’ve been through this.”

“I’m proud of you,” the words spill out of Rosa, and Amy blinks.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you.” A shy smile flutters across Amy’s lips. “But if you ever have another kid, I’m not going near you a month before you’re due, okay? I’ll transfer precincts or something. Never again.”

Amy laughs, but Rosa just stares at her, and she goes silent. “Got it. Cool. That’s fair.”

  “Do you want to hold him?” The question takes Rosa by surprise. Mac has finished eating and burped Amy in the face - babies are charming - and seems content again with his head on Amy’s shoulder. “He’s clean and wearing clothes.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Rosa tries to remember when she last held a baby. It was probably Iggy, but Gina’s daughter is three years old now, and she hasn’t wanted to cuddle with Rosa for at least two. “Okay.”

  Her heart is beating fast as she holds out her arms and Amy gently transfers him to them, but then he’s there, and it’s not as scary. Mac looks up at her with his big, brown eyes, like he's trying to figure out who this new person is that's holding him, but he doesn't seem too bothered by the change.

“Hi,” says Rosa, tracing one of the rainbows on his onesie. “We’ve met before.”

The fact that she saw this baby be born is something she most of all wants to forget. She won't for a second pretend he looked cute then, all purple and slimy and half-Cuban Jimmy Neutron-like, but now she can actually distinguish some of his features. Dark hair that won’t quite lie flat, a pointy little nose, the sweetest round cheeks, and a curious expression when she meets his eyes with equal focus. There’s some resemblance to both of his parents, something she imagines Charles has probably talked their ears off about already, but he looks like himself, too.

  Mac opens his mouth like he’s trying to communicate, and Rosa makes the same face back at him. He closes it, pursing his lips, and she mimics him again. He’s pretty cool, she decides, as long as she doesn’t think about how fragile he is or how soft his head is. He’s this unscarred and innocent, brand new little person with his whole life ahead of him to be filled with successes and mistakes, heartbreaks and dreams, and now that he’s not seconds-out of a womb anymore, Rosa can’t deny that he’s adorable.

“He’s perfect, right?” Amy’s voice is just above a whisper.

“He’s so cute, it’s fucked up.”

Amy laughs. “It is fucked up,” she nods, and then she gets a far more serious look in her eyes. “Thanks again for being there. I know you hated it, but... I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Rosa finds herself lying, but Amy shakes her head.

“No, it was. I’m happy it was you.”

She thinks of Jake’s comment earlier, that Amy might have killed Charles if he’d been the one to try and coach her through contractions, and smirks. “It was worth it.”

Amy smiles. “Auntie Ro-Ro.”

“I get to say that. You don’t get to say that. It’s different.”

“Fine. Can I take a picture of you two? Just to have for him? I won’t ever show it to anyone else, I promise.”

“Sure.” Mac’s started moving a little in her arms again, scrunching his face and looking worried, but he’s not crying, so Rosa raises him slightly anyway and angles him so Amy can get a better picture.

“Adorable,” she says, about to snap the first shot, and right then Mac squirms and spits up. Right over Rosa’s leather jacket. Then he smiles, like everything just became so much better.

“Oh no!” Amy peeps, reaching for a washcloth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ll take him off your hands if you want -”

“It’s fine,” she hurries to say. “It wipes off.”

“Are you -”

“I said it’s fine.” Rosa gives her a look, as if to say don’t you dare take this baby from me.

Amy looks nervous, but she takes a couple of pictures anyway. Rosa thinks that they’re probably from her bad side, but she doesn’t care to protest. It’s for Mac, anyway, and maybe a little bit for Amy and Jake. She can look ugly in a couple of iPhone pictures if it means she gets to hold this perfect baby for a few minutes more.

“So cute.” Amy sounds teary as she looks at the pictures before putting her phone away, and then it's as if she's been reading Rosa’s mind, because she asks,

“Are you okay to hold him for five minutes? Just while I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

  Rosa has got this, at first. Mac has gripped her index finger and is holding on tight to it while she tickles his chin, boops his nose, and even sticks out her tongue to entertain him. He seems happy, watching her with the same wide eyes and intense eye contact, but then, something suddenly comes over him. He scrunches his forehead, making a face like a sad kitten, and the next second he’s crying.

  It takes Rosa by surprise. She's got no idea what to do with a crying baby - she's always just given them back to the parents - but Jake’s nowhere to be seen and breaking into the bathroom to place a screaming baby in Amy’s arms seems rude, although she definitely considers it. Rosa stands up instead, swaying from side to side while bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Shh, shh,” she tries, to no effect. “It's okay.”

Mac lets out another wail like something is making him well and truly heartbroken, and the sound tugs at her heartstrings.

“Where are your parents?” She asks him then, like he's not wondering the same thing. “I’m sorry, Mac, I don’t know what to do -”

An idea hits her. Babies like music, right? She could sing to him. Babies probably don’t like aggressive German rap, but that’s fine, Rosa knows other songs, somewhere down deep -

“The itsy bitsy spider, went up the water spout,” she sings the first song that pops into her head. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out…”

  She's not prepared for it to work, but then, as suddenly as the screaming started, Mac calms down again. He lets out the sweetest snuffling noise, and then he goes quiet.

“Out came the sun, and washed up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again…”

Rosa doesn't dare stop. She keeps rocking and singing, rocking and singing, all the while staring at this baby who has such a grip on her somehow. When did a baby last make her sing? He's still staring at her with wide eyes, and she doesn’t want him to start crying again, so she sings the song from the top.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout..”

  When she finishes the song for the second time, Mac’s closed his eyes and is slowly waving a tiny fist, so she holds it in her hand and lets his grip close around her thumb.

“If you ever get an enemy in the future,” she whispers, “you text me, okay? I’ll beat them up for you.”

“Aww.” Rosa flinches, noticing Jake a few feet away. “You guys are adorable. How are things going?”

“He started crying, so I, uh, sang to him? He's fine now. I think.”

“Yeah, I heard the singing.” Jake steps closer to her so she can slide Mac over to his arms. “Truly beautiful.”

“Never tell anyone about this.”

He winks. “Our secret.”

Mac lets out another whimper, and Rosa tenses, but Jake just lifts him so he's resting against his chest, like a little frog with his head resting on Jake’s shoulder. Then he pops the pacifier he was holding into Mac’s mouth, and as if through a stroke of magic, the baby relaxes. Jake buries his nose in Mac’s hair and kisses the top of his head, and Rosa can't hide a smile.

  He looks so grown up like this, so in love as he holds his son. She’s proud of him.

  Amy returns from the bathroom with a stressed-out look in her eyes, but once she sees Mac with Jake, it melts right off her. She stands on the tip of her toes, kissing Mac’s cheeks first and then Jake’s.

Rosa feels like she’s lurking, spying on this intimate family moment, but then she remembers she literally saw this kid be born. This family has nestled its way into her life from the very beginning. She’s earned the right to be here.

  She still excuses herself after a moment, but she doesn’t leave before she’s stolen a final dose of baby snuggles. How this baby has got her so wrapped around his tiny little finger already is a mystery, but at the same time, it makes all the sense in the world.

“Be nice to your parents,” she whispers to Mac as he gets a final turn in her arms. “They’re a little crazy, I know, but they really love you a lot. So do I,” she adds, under her breath, “but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Mac blinks, like he understands.

  ~

#OKAY FOLKS I FINALLY DID IT #my writing #b99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #amy santiago #rosa diaz #mac peralta #b99

[ecoamerica]

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[multibug]

Passion Fruit Lip Gloss

AO3

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U SO MUCH @emsylcatac

tags: identity reveal, fluff, kissing, aged-up characters, slight crack

Marinette adjusts the bedazzled party hat atop her head, the bright gold a stark contrast to her jet black hair. It doesn’t exactly go with her outfit of choice, though she’s not necessarily angry at it. 

It was either that or the bedazzled green tiny cowboy hat.-

(“Green?!” she had asked Alya, when she was showing Marinette ideas about what to do for the hats.

“For our school colors, silly. We probably won’t use them anyway.” 

Alya did end up using them in the end.) 

Marinette’s wearing a peach-colored long-sleeve silk button up with thin red and white stripes vertically lining it. It’s tucked into a pair of black shorts with a leather belt. 

In a moment of pure hastiness, she had chosen her tallest thigh high black heels, with a heel that raised her three full inches over her normal height. 

A small beret keeps one side of her hair pinned back so her ear is exposed. She tied a thin choker around her neck to complete the look and a small touch of makeup with glossy lips. 

It’s passion fruit flavor. 

The clock hanging on the wall reads 23h00, giving Marinette a good hour and a half before she can beg off feigning tiredness as her excuse so Alya doesn’t call her a party pooper. It’s not that Marinette doesn’t like to party per say, it’s that she’s not exactly the third wheel type. 

She’s had more than enough of it the last few days, thank you very much. 

All of their friends are paired up with someone, whether it’s platonic or not. Alya and Nino, Kim and Ondine, Luka and XY—a big shocker to all of their friends with how much Luka despised him back in the day. There’s the obvious Juleka and Rose still holding strong, Kagami and Chloé, another eye-opener when they revealed it to their friends earlier last month. 

Ivan and Mylène, who endured a long-distance relationship for a while before Ivan and his family moved back to Paris in August. Nathaniel and Marc, who sadly weren’t around a lot to cause Marinette much of a heartache, but enough nonetheless. 

Even Alix and Max, two entirely platonic friends, were enough to make Marinette feel like she was third wheeling. 

They aren’t doing it on purpose, at least Marinette thinks they aren’t, yet the longing to have someone on this chilly New Years Eve is almost unbearable. Almost. 

A mix of something fruity and strong loiters in her hand long enough to help kick the feeling. 

“Girl, what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Alya gently bumps her hip into Marinette’s, eyeing her over the top of her straw as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’ve been off all night!” 

Alya’s cowboy hat is nearly slipping off her head at this point, though it looks as though the redhead hasn’t noticed. 

Marinette stifles a giggle, shoving her half-filled drink into Alya’s free hand. She watches in bemusement as part of the drink sloshes to the floor and goes about fixing the small hat on top of Alya’s head. “There! All fixed.” 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to avoid my question,” Alya remarks with a sharply raised eyebrow. 

“Me? Trying to avoid your question? Alya, you must be drunker than you think!” Marinette quickly takes the drink back from Alya’s hand and downs the rest of it, throwing an overly enthusiastic thumbs up in its wake. 

“I’m on my first drink, M,” Alya deadpans. 

Pursing her lips together, Marinette shrugs her shoulder sheepishly. “Sorry?” 

The song changes from a slower song to a more upbeat one, the accompanying lights Nino installed in his and Alya’s apartment changing to the tune of it. 

Alya knocks back the rest of her drink and slams the cup onto a nearby counter, a devious glint in her eyes. 

Oh no. 

“Come dance with me, M!” Her hand encircles Marinette’s wrist, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor whether Marinette wants to or not. 

Marinette nearly trips over her heels in an attempt to keep up with Alya’s longer legs, knowing it's fruitless to argue with Alya when she has her mind set to something. 

Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar tall blond squeezes past them with relative ease, Marinette briefly making eye contact with them. Time feels as though it slows down, Marinette’s lips parting slightly as she peers into the bright eyes of Adrien, who she hasn’t seen since Nino threw him a spectacular 19th birthday party in September. 

A birthday party that Marinette still can’t remember to this day. 

All she recalls is getting extremely plastered after seeing Adrien pictured with a girl in his newest edition of Vogue Paris. He hadn’t spoken about whether the girl was his girlfriend at the time, yet seeing them together had her feeling as though she was on fire. 

Months of Marinette working towards getting over him just for her to realize it’s seemingly useless. 

He’s always going to have a special place in her heart, she suspects. 

His eyes soften as soon as he realizes it's her, his lips curving into a beautiful smile that outperforms all of his photoshoot pictures by a landslide. His hair’s grown slightly longer since she’s last seen him, curling around the back of his ear—a bit reminiscent of their collège days. 

Adrien’s still just as gorgeous as she remembers. 

“You look good,” she squeaks out over the bass of the music, inwardly screaming at herself to shut up. 

“Thank you—” he cuts himself off as Alya drags Marinette across the room, his hand outstretched in reaching towards her. 

Gosh, how she yearns to see if it’s as soft as it looks, even in the dim multi-colored lighting. 

“Honey, I think the liquor is getting to you,” Alya whisper-yells into her ear, a tiny smirk lingering on her face. 

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the party hat sliding with the movement. “No way, Al! I haven’t been drinking like that. Only enough for some liquid courage, you know?” 

Just then, she trips over the heel of her boot and nearly forces them to the floor from using Alya as leverage. Thankfully, Alya was standing close enough to the wall to support them before that happened. 

“Sure, babe. I’ll make sure either Nino or I take you home later.” 

Sticking her tongue out at Alya, she sets her empty drink onto the nearest flat surface and throws her arms around Alya’s neck, losing herself to the beat of the music. Her hips move in time with the songs, some she faintly remembers, and others she’s never heard of. 

Alya’s close enough to her that she begins to feel a bit sweaty as the songs pass. 

At some point while Hot in Herre by Nelly is playing, Nino saddles up to them with drinks in his hands. 

“Babe, I think she’s had enough,”Alya all but snaps.

Nino shoots her a look that says relax without actually saying it. 

“Thanks, Nino! You’re a real pal.” Marinette loops her arm through his and leans her head against his bicep, taking a sip from the drink he gives her. “Yuck, water.” 

“Yeah, you are a real pal,” Alya says with a fond grin, pressing a slightly sweaty kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, love.” 

Marinette huffs. “I take it back. You’re not my pal.” She ruins this statement by tightening her grip on his arm. 

“Ooh, she’s clingy tonight. Are you drunk, Nette?” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m just abnormally tipsy is all! I think it might just be hitting me now. Oh dear, maybe the water is a good idea.” Frowning, she sips at the water with her nose scrunched, a small pout forming on her face. 

Raising her arm up to stare at the watch on her hand, she squints her eyes and is barely able to make out the time: 23h50. 

Another New Years Eve, another kissless year. 

“Hey guys! Kim is looking for you two. He said something about a major spill in the kitchen?” 

It’s Adrien, dressed in a light blue—is that Givenchy?!—cotton button-up with yellow and green flowers scattered on it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the shirt itself is tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of brown chelsea boots. 

It suits him well, so much so that she clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

Snap out of it. 

Marinette blinks owlishly at Adrien, the liquor causing her head to feel fuzzy. 

“I don’t want to leave Nette alone—”

Adrien laughs softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he interrupts, “Nino, I can take care of Mar while you guys go help Kim, yeah?” 

“I am not a child.” Marinette detaches herself from Nino and stands proudly, chin held high. “I can take care of myself!” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adrien replies gently, as to not spook her. “I’ll just be around to make sure you’re okay in the process, is that cool?” 

He’s so nice. It warms her heart. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Cool, let’s go.” He slings an arm over her shoulder languidly and smiles down at her. 

Her heart races. 

“Do you want to go onto the balcony to watch the fireworks? Nino and Alya said it’s off limits, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us, right guys?” 

Alya winks over at Marinette as Adrien’s head turns away to glance at Nino, and she replies, “Yeah, go for it.” 

A blush rises on her cheeks, heat stinging her face. She’s going to kill Alya. 

“C’mon, Mar, we’re out this bitch.” Adrien steers them over to the balcony and easily has them through the sliding doors within seconds.

It drowns out the party lingering behind them. 

Glancing down at her wrist, Marinette notes that her watch reads 23h55. Five minutes until midnight. Time feels as though it’s gone so fast yet so slow, strangely enough. 

She shivers, though the sensation is mostly coming from her stockings as her shirt’s fairly thick. She’s surprised when she feels a weight on her shoulders. 

Out of thin air, Adrien produces a heavy bomber jacket that warms her to the core immediately. Maybe he grabbed it on their way out without her realizing it? Whatever the case may be, she’s very grateful for the heat seeping into her body while they’re out in the frigid Parisian air. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, her arms crossing to grab either side of the jacket and hold it around her body. 

“Of course,” he replies, shooting her the same smile from earlier. 

It warms her more than the jacket does. 

“You know,” he starts, hands twitching on the balcony railing, as he glances from the beautiful city view to her face. “I have so much to talk to you about. So much to say. Now isn’t the right time obviously, as you’ve been drinking—”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m perfectly coherent, Adrien.” 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he defends easily, his arm groping her elbow to ground her. “I’m just saying that I think this is a conversation where both of us should be completely sober and open to hearing the topic at hand.” 

What does he mean by that? She’s not sure where she should be confused and worried or elated that he wants to talk to her about something serious. Either way, it’s puzzling her already fuzzy brain to the point where she bites down on her lower lip and lets out a huff unknowingly. 

“Is it bad?” she finally asks, eyes flickering to her watch. 

23h58. 

“No, no! It’s not bad at all.” He squeezes her elbow reassuringly and smiles warmly at her, eyes glittering even in the dim light that shines above them. “I’m hoping it’ll be a good conversation, though I want you to remember it. That’s why I’m waiting.” 

Waiting. Good. it’s good. For a good conversation. Ugh. Her brain hurts. 

“Okay,” Marinette murmurs, blinking up at him slightly confused. She returns the smile once she notices his, it being too contagious for her not to. “Okay, I believe you.” 

He hasn’t removed his hand from her elbow. She hasn’t shaken him off either. 

Beyond them, miles and miles away, in the sea of twinkling lights and crowds of people, fireworks explode into the night sky as bright sensations. They light up the dark with their vibrant colors and intoxicating patterns, making it irresistibly hard to look away. 

The second she does, her eyes are drawn to another light, this one alive. 

Adrien, who is watching the fireworks with an expression of wonder. A tilt to his eyebrows and a small drop of his jaw, cheekbones dipping high with the shadow of the night. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks, rather than wishing him a Happy New Years. Rather than stare at the beautiful swirls and patterns happening adjacent to her. She’s too focused on the beautiful boy in front of her, whether he knows she’s talking about him or not. 

It has to be said.

He lets out a small chuckle and nods his head, free hand rubbing at the back of his head as he whispers, “Yeah, it sure is.” 

“Bonne Année, Adrien, “ she whispers, so gently that she’s unsure as to if he’s heard it. 

Wonder-filled eyes flickering over to her helps in answering her question.. He grins impossibly wide, all of his teeth showing so it’s nearly comical, yet it’s so unabashedly Adrien that she can’t help but return it for a second time tonight.

Adrien leans in, and for a second, Marinette truly thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her heart starts stuttering and the color the cold had ripped from her returns to her body so fast it feels like whiplash. 

He doesn’t kiss her. 

And yet, that isn’t the exact truth either, is it?

Lips brush against the apple of her cheek, so light that the touch feels both hot and cold simultaneously. It sends shivers throughout her body and the spot on her skin that his lips linger on burns hotter than the temperature of the sun. 

She can’t think. Her brain is complete mush.

The tip of his cold nose nudges against her cheek afterwards briefly as he leans in to whisper into her ear, “Bonne Année to you as well, Marinette.” 

Her heart continues to flutter until she falls asleep minutes later, curled up in his jacket all while leaning on him.

---

Daylight shines in through the slits of her blinds faster than Marinette would’ve liked, considering the horrible ache in her head. Except, she can’t exactly remember how she made it back to her apartment, which is a weird feat for her. 

She rarely drinks enough to where she doesn’t remember what’s happening—Adrien’s birthday party being an anomaly. 

How did she make it home yesterday? 

Hm, maybe it was Alya or Nino? They aren’t the type to abandon one another in their times of need. even in times of absolute peril. There’s no way they didn’t have some part in getting her home, even if it meant physically seeing that she made it into her apartment building before leaving.

The thought makes her feel all fuzzy inside. 

It could’ve been any of their friends at the party, if she’s honest. She doesn’t remember anything after Hot in Herre played on the dancefloor; hopefully bits and pieces come back as time goes on. 

Oh well, it mustn’t be that important.

Peeling open an eye has her glancing over at her nightstand, a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water sitting neatly on her otherwise messy cupboard. She makes a move to grab the bottle and water when movement near her balcony door has her freezing in place. 

Chat Noir is standing there, back turned to her—she can even recognize him in horribly-taken photographs—as though he’s trying to sneak out. He turns to glance back at her and she soundly slips her eyes shut, feigning sleep. 

As her balcony door creaks, her eyes open and she watches Chat shut the door and bounce off the balcony with his staff. 

“Tikki?” 

Her small, red friend flies out from her little nest. “Yes, Marinette?” 

“Was Chat Noir just in my room?” Her voice is thick with sleep and slightly hoarse. 

Tikki’s eyes widen and she glances around the room nervously. “No? Were you dreaming? Chat Noir was most definitely not in here!” 

Marinette’s eyes squint up at her. “Don’t lie to me. I just saw him!” 

“Well, then why did you ask me?” Tikki whines, deflating a bit as she floats closer to Marinette. “Yes, Chat Noir was here. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you as you are the Guardian and it’s your decision, but if you don’t, I won’t utter a word.” 

“Will it jeopardize me knowing his identity? I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Marinette worries, using her thumb and forefinger to toy with her lower lip. 

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Tikki shrugs. “It may. I can’t say yes or no for sure. It would have to be a risk you’re willing to take.” 

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair.” Marinette sighs, finally opening the bottle of paracetamol and downing two with large gulps of water. “Though I am curious.” 

“As they say, curiosity killed the cat!” Tikki replies with a giggle. 

Face-palming, Marinette groans aloud. “Oh no. He’s rubbing off on you too!” 

---

“Girl, I’m surprised you haven’t called me,” Alya tells her, a few days later, when the New Years resolution goals have already lost their momentum. “I figured I’d get a phone call as soon as you got home.” 

“What are you talking about, Als? Sorry, hold on.” Marinette pauses, readjusting the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her classes haven’t let back in for the semester, yet she’s trying to get a headstart on pinning a new design she’s working on so she doesn’t fall behind. “Okay, go on. I have my brain screwed in now.” 

Things aren’t going according to plan, obviously. 

Alya snorts. “With you and Adrien, duh! Do you seriously not remember it? I thought you weren’t plastered.” 

“I wasn’t plastered! I guess I was just more tipsy than I thought I was.” 

“So, you were drunk?” 

“Shut up.” 

Letting out another round of laughter, Alya says, “Well, I can fill you in if you’d like. It’s pretty juicy.” 

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Marinette groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over her face. 

“Oh come on! It’s not even bad! You did pretty well considering the circumstances!” 

A pin falls to the floor at Alya’s word, forcing Marinette to tell her friend to hold on again. Three minutes later, she successfully finds the pin that somehow hid under the mannequin stand where she couldn’t see it. 

Lucky? Pft. Not Marinette.

“You were saying?” Marinette asks.

Alya fills her in on all of the details rather quickly, from Adrien whisking her away while still being a gentleman about it to them having alone time on the balcony. The story lasts all of a minute, even with Alya’s expertise in story-telling, and it has Marinette’s heart fluttering. 

The puzzle pieces start to connect. 

“Als, I just remembered what happened on the balcony,” Marinette says, eyes slightly wide. 

“Bitch, you better tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to come over to your apartment and sit on you.” 

“You say that as if it’s a threat.” 

“Marinette!” 

Marinette lets out a snort and slaps her knee. She sets the last pin before rolling the mannequin back into its temporary home for the night. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just playing around, Als!” 

“I love you, babe, but you’re killing me here.” 

“Sorry,” she replies, though she’s really not. 

“.....Marinette?” 

“Oh! Right!” Marinette can hear Alya face-palming over the phone. “Well, all I remember is us talking and him telling me that he has to talk to me about something important. I don’t really remember much else but he kissed me on the cheek, Alya.”

Alya squeals—a sound Marinette’s never heard come from her mouth—and a jostling noise comes from her end. “Holy fuck, M! That’s amazing!” 

“Right? At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but a cheek kiss is just as good nonetheless!” 

“Babe, you were drunk. It’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you. That means he respects you, regardless of whether there’s any feelings or not there.” 

Marinette lets out a small laugh, her heart swelling at Alya’s words. “You always know how to make situations better, don’t you?” 

“It’s kind of my job,” Alya replies. 

“And I love you for it.” 

Alya blows a smooch over the phone. “Mwah! Right back at you.” She pauses, then quickly continues, “Oh! Did he say anything when he left your apartment after he dropped you off?” 

Wait, what? 

Marinette has no recollection of this happening whatsoever. She faintly remembers falling asleep against him—he was just so warm, okay?—but him taking her home? Alya has to be mistaken.

“He took me home? Are you sure? I don’t remember that.” 

“Yeah, he specifically told Nino and I that he’d take you home and then sent us a picture of you tucked in bed that night to ease my worrying. You know how much of a motherly hen I can be sometimes.” 

None of it makes sense. Even if he did take her home that night, why was Chat Noir in her room early in the morning? 

Unless…

No. There’s no way. Absolutely no way that she’s been this blind. No way that Marinette’s this lucky. 

She’d know if her two favorite people in the world—excluding Alya and Nino—were the same person, right? There’s no way that the miraculous could’ve hidden it that well from her that she wouldn’t have noticed.

Except maybe... It had? 

It comes together like whiplash. All of their mannerisms. From the way both Chat and Adrien rub their necks when they’re nervous, or when they make jokes but immediately retract them so as to not hurt the person’s feelings. Both of them having a rough home life and awful dads. 

Piercing green eyes that remind Marinete of a home away from home. 

It reminds her of those times in collège and lycée when Adrien would disappear and reappear whenever she would. She had attributed it to him being afraid of the akumas and finding somewhere safe to hide that entire time. It’s not like it was her place to judge anyone’s ways to cope with what was happening!

The quirks that the both of them share. Two halves of a whole. They merge together beautifully in her mind, filling a void she hadn’t known existed until now. 

Her heart is so, so full. 

“Als. I think I just had the world’s biggest revelation,” she breathes out, sounding absolutely lovesick. 

“What is it?” Nino’s yelling about something incoherent in the background, and Marinette can just faintly hear Adrien’s voice.

“I think I’m in love with Adrien.” Her stomach flutters at her words. 

Alya splutters out a hearty laugh. “Oh, M. We’ve been knew.” 

---

Three days. Marinette’s lived with her secret for three whole days and she’s losing it. 

She begged off spending time with Alya, Nino, and Adrien to try and gather her thoughts. Adrien being Chat is the best possible outcome for a partner she could’ve ever dreamed of, but she wants to tell him how much he means to her without fumbling over her words too much. 

It’ll probably still happen. He is Adrien, for crying out loud.  

Earlier, Marinette transformed so she could write some notes down in her compact in case she gets too flustered. Adrien’s nice enough that he won’t judge her for it, so she’s not too worried.

After a quick application of her favorite passion fruit flavor lip gloss, she sets off for their patrol meetup point. 

“Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she says. 

No response. Yes,. Marinette’s aware that her kwami can’t hear her or speak to her while she’s suited up, yet the hope still lingers for some absurd reason. 

Marinette wholeheartedly blames the nerves.

Spotting Chat—Adrien is difficult. He blends into the shadows so easily that Marinette nearly falls off the building when he blinks his eyes open. She’s lucky that he has fast reflexes to catch her by the waist, because with how out of it she’s been today, she might’ve forgotten to use her yo-yo. 

“Bug! It’s so nice of you to drop in.” 

Oh no. His jokes just make him more attractive. She’s fucked.

Marinette’s hands fall to his biceps, and she’s unsure as to if she wants to tug him closer or push him away at that awful joke that has her heart racing. A look of surprise crosses his face and she squeaks, ducking out of his grip. 

“Thanks,” she replies quietly. 

“You didn’t make fun of my joke. Are you okay?” Concern etches its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees his fingers twitch in her direction. He stops himself as soon as he notices, choosing instead to idly twist the ring on his finger. 

Taking a deep breath, she places her hand over his restless one. “Relax, kitty. I’m okay. Just nervous, because I have to talk to you about something.” 

His eyes widen at her words, lips parting as he exhales a breath. She faintly feels it on her face as he says, “I have something to tell you too. It’s kind of urgent.” 

“You can go first, okay? I can wait a little while longer.” 

Adrien nods, tilting his head to the side with a cute smile on his face. “How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Marinette responds instantly. 

It isn’t a lie, either. She genuinely trusts him with her life. Transformed, detransformed, heck, she trusts him blindfolded at this point. 

He nods his head at her words and starts towards her, arms outstretched. Even as he scoops her up into his arms, her trust in him is unabated. “Hold onto me tight and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, alright?”

“Alright,” she echoes. 

Then, Adrien’s off, running over rooftops at speeds that seem unimaginable when it isn't of her own doing. Her ponytail whips about in the frigid air, Marinette using his neck as a shield from the harsh wind. 

She’s thrown back to Glaciator, where she and Adrien spoke about misfortunes and missed opportunities. He ended up showing her a beautiful scene atop a nearby rooftop, as both Ladybug and Marinette. Thinking back, her racing heart should’ve been a sign that her feelings for Chat weren’t platonic, yet it took years of walking on eggshells for one of them to finally crack. 

“We’re almost there. You good down there?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, laughing into his suit. “This isn’t where I find out you’re going to drop me off a building as a prank, is it?” 

He scoffs, softly landing on what she assumes to be another rooftop. “Hardy har har, Bugaboo.” 

The sound of a door opening and closing lets her know they’ve arrived—apparently it wasn’t a rooftop—and the temptation to look around is higher than she expected. She waits for his approval, wanting him to trust her as much as she trusts him. 

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?” 

Marinette nods into his neck, extending her legs so she can place them on the floor as he lowers her. Her arms stay wrapped around his neck, while her eyes continue to stay closed. 

“I’m going to step back and then you can look.” Adrien lingers for a brief moment, breath fanning over Marinette’s face. 

As he shifts away from her, her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes blink open seconds later and she peers around the bright room a little dazedly. 

They’re in her shared apartment with Alya—in her room. 

Younger Marinette would be freaking out about having Adrien Agreste in her room. 

(Older Marinette isn’t faring much better.) 

For some strange reason, Adrien knowing her identity never popped into her head when he said he had to talk to her. She had no clue as to what it could’ve been—especially not that.

“Oh,” Marinette breathes. 

“Please don’t be mad,” he rushes out, hands shaking about in front of him in a nervous manner. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I know. And I didn’t mean to find out! I swear! It kind of just happened? I can’t even tell you how I found out unless you’re willing to know my identity too—gosh, I’m going to stop talking now.” 

Seeing him so jittery helps to calm the rattling of her heart.

Marinette wordlessly grabs his hand and brings him over to the fluffy rug in the center of her room. She flops on top of it and criss-crosses her legs so he has enough room to do the same opposite her. 

He follows, albeit a confused expression lingers on his face. 

Their hands stay joined together, a nice weight resting on her knee. The tip of his claw is rubbing small circles into her palm, whether he notices it or not. 

“I’m not mad,” she says, the softest of smiles spreading onto her cheeks. “I could never be mad at you, kitty.” 

Adrien lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand, her heart flipping at the fond look he gives her. “Good, good.” 

They stare at one another for a moment too long, before Marinette murmurs fuck it under her breath and detarnsforms. 

His suit is oddly cool against her bare knee, his eyes flickering to their hands then back up to her face. He licks at his lips and breathes out, “Oh.” 

“Hi,” she greets, with a small wave of her free hand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts out. 

Marinette lets out a surprised laugh, red peeking out under the dip of his mask. Her voice is teasing as she says,“Thank you, I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me blush or not.” 

“Marinette, please.” 

Hearing him say her name has her heart fluttering, and she detangles their hands to push up onto her knees, crawling towards him. She nudges his legs apart so she can fit between them, arms wrapping around his neck. Her cheek presses against his, the cool material of his suit helping to soothe her burning cheeks. 

Even with the suit protecting him, she can feel the thumping of his heart against her chest. 

“You wanna know my secret?” she asks faintly, as his hands move to settle on her back. 

“Yes, tell me.” His claws rest lightly against the fabric of her shirt. 

Her nose brushes against the tip of his ear and she feels him shudder. “I think you’re really, really cute, Adrien.” 

“Plagg, claws off.” The transformation light has her eyes slipping shut briefly. When she reopens them, Adrien’s sat in front of her with a blinding smile on his face. “Hi.” 

For some reason, she’s brought to tears by the situation. She holds them back the best she can. “Hey.” 

She’s just so happy. 

“I’m so glad it’s you, by the way,” Adrien professes, blinking back his own set of tears. “Like I know I’ve known for a while and all, but this still feels like finding out for the first time.”

“Are you trying to make me cry? You asshole,” she whines, tears sliding down her face.

Before she can reach up and wipe them away on her own, Adrien’s hand is there to do it for her. His touch is so gentle, and instead of returning to its previous position on her back, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. You mean so much to me. And to know that two of my favorite people are the same person? How could I be so lucky?” 

“Two of your favorite people?” His head tilts to the side cutely, his hand idly stroking her jaw. 

A blush returns to her face as she replies, “Yeah, I’m shocked you didn’t know, if I’m honest. I was so obvious about it! I’ve liked you as Adrien for so long, and then as soon as I realized that you’re Chat, all of my feelings for Chat were brought to light.” 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, licking at his lips. 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t tease me!” 

“I’m not teasing you, Mar! You’re just really cute!” 

Oh god. Her face hides in his shoulder as she emits a small groan, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’m going to pass out if you keep talking about me like this.” 

Adrien lets out a laugh that vibrates against her chest. “Well, I don’t want you to pass out, but I need you to know how much I like you.” 

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks, face digging into his shoulder. 

“Marinette,” Adrien echoes. 

Slowly, she raises her head to shoot a pouty look in his direction. “You’re mean.” 

“You don’t think I’m mean,” he starts, a devious glint in his eyes. Uh oh. “You like me.” 

Marinette’s heart flips as his words, her lip only jutting out further. She tries to maneuver out of his arms, yet he doesn’t budge,  his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. “I take it back.” 

“No, you’re not allowed to do that. I will cry again!” He widens his slightly bloodshot eyes to prove his point.

“How did you even find out?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject.

“You told me. At my birthday party. You were drunk, so I sat with you for a while and you started rambling about things that didn’t really make sense—”

“Oh no.” 

He sends her a small smile, then says, “Yeah, I hadn’t really believed that you were Ladybug at that point because you were really drunk, yet you mentioned our patrol meeting spot for the week and called ‘Chat’ your annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass and it clicked.” 

“That’s it. I’m leaving and never coming back. Why am I so embarrassing? Annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass? I could’ve lived without knowing I said that to you!” Her forehead drops to lean against his cheek. 

“It was cute! You’re cute and I like you so much, yeah?” His head turns so he can make eye contact with her, their noises brushing with how close they are to one another. 

Marinette really wants to kiss him. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she awaits his response.

“Of course. You really didn’t have to ask, because I’d let you kiss me any day of the week, but I think it’s really nice that you did ask—”

She cuts off his nervous rambling by kissing him, her hand sliding up into his hair at the base of his neck. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. 

He tastes like flavored lip balm, hand moving from the dip of her back to her hip to hold her steady. 

He tastes familiar. 

It’s weird to think of. She kissed him when Kim became akumatized. According to the picture Alya showed her after hers and Nino’s joint akumatization, they had kissed for whatever reason. 

Their almost kisses come to mind and she feels a different type of heat rise on her cheeks. 

Marinette pulls back with a groan, nearly squeaking as Adrien follows her blindly to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. He lets her slip out of his arms and shove her face into the carpet, a hand trailing gently over her back. 

“Was it that bad?” he jokes, sifting his other hand through her hair. 

“No, oh my gosh. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed of! Your lips are really soft! I just thought of how I tried to kiss you when you faked being a statue all those years ago and now I’m embarrassed!” 

“You’re the cutest ever,” he says, flopping onto his side to lay next to her. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear and nudges at her cheek with his nose. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’ve said and done so many things in front of you that could be considered embarrassing, but because it’s you, I don’t care.” 

She turns her head and shoots him a look. “You never tried kissing a statue version of me!” 

“And I like you even more for that! Look at us, Mar! We’re 18 and 19 respectively, and we’re laying on your fluffy rug around midnight! Everything about this could be considered embarrassing, except it’s not! Because it’s us.” 

Adrien’s words only make Marinette more attracted to him at this point.

“We’re allowed to be embarrassing, but only when it’s us?” she asks.

He nods, lips quirking into a big smile. “Yes, exactly. I won’t be embarrassing with anyone else but you. You’re my embarrassing person, Marinette.” 

“My heart shouldn’t be fluttering at you calling us embarrassing,” she whines, laying her hand on his chest. 

“Embarrassingly in love idiots?” he whispers, finding her hand to tangle their fingers together so he can bring them up to his lips and brush his mouth over the back of her hand.

Marinette exhales a quiet laugh and says, “Very embarrassingly in love.” 

They fall asleep like that, his arm wrapped around her waist while she lays her head on his chest, breaths mingling together. 

It’s the best sleep she’s had in ages.

---

Marinette’s phone buzzing wakes her up the next morning. 

She fumbles around for the device, letting out a small aha as her fingers grip the electronic. It’s hard for her to open her and stare at the small screen, yet when she notices it’s a message from Adrien, her eyes snap open.

Wait, when did she get in her own bed?

Quickly opening the message, she reads it with increasing vigor as the message goes on.

Adrien: Hey, Mar. I couldn’t stay long after you fell asleep because I had a photoshoot this morning and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you. I feel like I did a poor job at letting you know how I felt yesterday, so I’m going to say it here so it’s clear and you know, okay? (Don’t judge me!!!) 

I like you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You have such amazing qualities that I admire and adore. You’re a leader who isn’t afraid to stick up for what she believes in, whether you’re in the suit or out of it! You make the world a better place just by being you. I couldn’t think of a better person being Ladybug, and it makes me so happy that it’s you.

I’d love to get to know you more. I think we both know that we click really well at this point, but I want to do this right with you. We’re a team, Bug. You and me. So, what do you say? 

Her hand groggily slaps the call button, wiping back a few tears that slide down her cheeks from his works. 

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey, Mar. Did you get my message—”

“You stupid cat! I’m sitting here at eight in the morning crying because of you! I loved every second of it.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “So does that mean it’s a yes?” 

“We should go to the museum and reenact our statue scene as our date,” Marinette suggests, a large grin making its way onto her face. 

Adrien nearly chokes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way, little bug.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #adrienette #ladynoir #i don't know whether to tag theo thers so ill just kepe it at them OKKOHGDKAOYERAO #IHOPE U LIKE IT EMSY I LOVE U

[thedeaconj]

Career Guidance

Alex receives some enlightening career guidance from Doctor Summers, upon the recommendations of a friend. 

           Alex was seemingly at a dead end in her life, her last job having gone down the toilet due to the lockdown. It was a boring office job anyways, and she didn’t particularly enjoy it, but there were still bills to pay. She was stuck in her apartment, fresh out of university with no direction, no goal or job in mind, and it was only through the recommendation of a close friend that she had one possible way to turn. She was an old university friend, who messaged Alex about a recent session with someone called Dr Summers, who helped her realise the career for her. She did mention that he’s a little unorthodox, even using a crystal ball and putting on a psychic act, but apparently that was all just a bit of fun. With no clear options left, she agreed to do a video session with him. Her friend told her that if she weren’t completely satisfied by the end of it, the session would be free, so the way Alex saw it, she couldn’t really go wrong.

         Alex wasn’t exactly sure how to dress for such a thing, on one hand this was a somewhat professional meeting regarding her future career choices, but on the other hand, this was a guy who acted like a psychic, so she wasn’t going full pants suit regardless. In the end, she decided to go for a more casual ensemble, she wasn’t one for stuffy office wear anyways. Alex opted for a sensible blue top, and some jeans. They said dress for the job you want, and hey a job where she could wear what she wanted would be ideal. Alex also decided to forgo any makeup, figuring that it didn’t really matter. She’d emailed Dr Summers to arrange the call for around five, he asked a few preliminary questions on her educational background, what she hoped to get out of this, and if she was going to be disturbed for any reason during their talk. She replied with how she’d done an English degree, more out of uncertainty on what to do career wise. She hoped to get some career guidance and find something right for her, and while the last question seemed a little odd, she confirmed there was no risk of her being disturbed.

         When five o’clock came, she booted up her laptop, ready for the call. Alex sat in her room on a comfortable chair, the laptop on her desk in front of her, she turned her webcam on, and was greeted with Dr Summers himself. He was an older gentleman, wearing a tweed jacket but a t shirt underneath and jeans himself, something that Alex took small comfort in, that she’d been right to dress so casually. In front of him was that infamous crystal ball, but she first noticed his face and head. He was bald with a thick beard and glasses. Alex could see how he’d be able to play up the psychic bit, as it was quite an unusual look.

‘Ah hello Alex, it is nice to finally meet you, or well talk to you at least. I usually do sessions at my office, but this will have to do for now. I have to say you’re coming through very clearly; do you have a good internet provider?’ he asked.

         His voice was rich, deep, comforting, something she was quite happy about. This was already a little uncomfortable to Alex, telling a stranger about her career ambitions, being judged on them. The voice however helped alleviate some of that discomfort.

‘Thank you, and same to you! Yeah I’ve got a great internet provider, it’s been really handy lately,’ she replied.

‘That’s good to hear Alex, a lot of people are choosing careers that largely rely on an online space these days, so that may be something to keep in mind. I’m glad you’ve dressed comfortably as well, I find a lot of people I talk to can be very uptight or stuffy, which can prevent them for being able to find the right career for them,’ Dr Summers said.

There was something strangely pleasant about his praise, Alex felt it was quite nurturing. She’d never considered herself uptight or stuffy in anyway, more preferring to go with the flow.

‘Yeah that would be interesting, I do like being able to dress casually just around the apartment you know. Well I’m not uptight about much, I think it was a little harmful at my old job. I get that I don’t look like, you know, the model office woman but I felt suffocated there,’

         Alex was always more considered cute than she was anything else. Her strawberry blonde hair with slight curling, her fresh face with dimples and a healthy glow. She was short, although did her exercise, so her body overall was quite lean and trimmed. Still, it made looking professional in work outfits a little more difficult, as she was always the youngest looking one in the office. As Alex replied, the doctor nodded his head, a smile on his face. It was nice for her to have someone listen so earnestly, although something was bugging her.

‘Sorry, I have to ask, the crystal ball. Are you really some sort of psychic, or is that more for show?’ Alex asked.

Dr Summers chuckled, he placed one hand on the crystal ball and began to rub it. A blue glow came from the centre of the ball, that seemed to spin and twirl in place.

‘This is actually a little pet project of mine, I made it myself. Pretty neat how I can move the light, right Alex?’ he asked.

Alex stared into the crystal ball, watching the light twirl and dance. It was really quite beautiful, how he did it she couldn’t work out, but she did enjoy how it sparkled before her.

‘Yes, it’s really pretty, how does it work?’

‘My psychic powers of course,’ Dr Summers chuckled again. ‘No, I kid, it’s quite a sophisticated science. Truth be told, I’m not a psychic, but I can have some superstitious clients who like to believe that. I started using it with regular clients though as I’ve had an incredible response rate, for some reason people stare into it and find themselves coming up with ideas on what to do with their careers,’

Alex couldn’t help but keep staring, even without hearing what the doctor had to say about people finding their careers from this light. The way it sparkled and danced, how the light twisted and turned around and around. She felt as if it beckoned to her, the world around Alex seemed so dull, so muted, compared to the light in the crystal ball. It pulsed, and she could feel that pulse in her own mind, in her own body.

‘You seem quite taken by it Alex, please stare closely into it, I’m sure you’ll soon start to have some realisations,’ the Doctor said.

         Alex leaned further in, the crystal ball consumed her vision, as her eyes grew wider. Her jaw went slack, as the rest of the world faded away. The Doctor kept talking but his words seemed quiet, far away. There was only the light, the light that pulsed with warmth and bliss in her mind. She would follow that light to wherever it led her. It made her feel like she was on the right path, but she knew soon the light would fade away. It would leave her for a little while, just so she could receive some further guidance. Alex blinked a few times as she reopened her eyes, seeing the doctor and his crystal ball were still there on the call.

‘Oh, wow sorry, I must have got caught up in that light, I see now how it’s so effective!’ she said.

‘That’s perfectly alright Alex, now I believe we were talking about features of your ideal career, you mentioned about comfort,’

Alex couldn’t help but be a little distracted, her socks were so itchy and uncomfortable. So, to get comfortable, she took them off, then plopped her feet right up onto her desk, soles facing the webcam. She’d always taken quite good care of her feet; a red polish made every one of her toes look so elegant. To her, this was only normal relaxation, simply propping her feet up like this.

‘Yes, a career where I can be comfortable in is definitely for me,’ she said.

‘Then something where you can work from home would be ideal, although I have to say Alex it would be a shame to keep yourself locked away from the world,’

She couldn’t help but blush a little at this. Sure, it might have been inappropriate to the session, but there was something about the Doctors voice that made it sound so pleasant. Alex smiled and wiggled her toes when she heard his compliment.

‘Well thank you, maybe something with more face to face work, like you do?’ Alex said.

The Doctor smiled at her, so she smiled even wider.

‘That would be perfect for you, tell me Alex, do you know much about making videos, or video editing?’ he asked.

‘A little bit yeah but I could learn, do you think I should make videos? If so what should they be about? To be honest I don’t do anything that interesting’

         He explained to her how the videos could just be about her daily life, or show herself relaxing, that a lot of people would enjoy seeing her as she is now. Alex beamed her approval of this, although still wasn’t sure how she’d make much money from that.

‘It feels like a lot of people could do that though, people with more interesting lives than me,’ she replied.

‘Of course, that would just be one aspect of it, perhaps you could also model, why you have the looks for it,’ Doctor Summers said.

Alex shifted in her seat, a quizzical look on her face. She wasn’t all that confident in the idea of modelling for people she knew, let alone strangers seeing her on the internet.

‘Well, it’s um, you see, I’m not all that confident to be honest. Thank you for the thought, but the confidence thing would be a major barrier, I mean what if people who knew me saw and were cruel about it?’ she asked.

Doctor Summers placed his hand once again on the crystal ball, except this time he simply kept the light pulsing fast. It was almost imperceptible; Alex didn’t notice anyways as the flashes began to trickle into her mind.

‘That’s a shame, well there are other options of course, you seem to take quite good care of your feet, you could always foot model,’ he replied.

         There was something strange about the doctor telling her to foot model, but Alex’s brain felt like it was tired, like it was slowing down.

‘I don’t know, umm, isn’t that you know, more for perverts?’ she said.

The Doctor chuckled at this, as he made the pulsing light just a little more noticeable, just enough to begin beguiling Alex once again.

‘You could do it anonymously, and simply not think about the people enjoying your content. Please, think it over,’

Alex nodded her head, she looked down at her own feet, focusing on them as the light flickered in the background. There was something strangely compelling about it, she could do the work from home, and whose to say she couldn’t enjoy it just a little?

‘Yes Doctor, I’ll think it over, although full on modelling I may need a confidence boost for,’ she said.

The Doctor smiled at her, he told her of course that’s what he was there for.

‘Many find themselves more confident after looking into the light, so how about you stare again for a little while dear?’ he said.

         Alex didn’t need to be told twice, she leaned into the screen, as the pulses of light grew quicker. They captivated her. Entranced her. Made her world fade away. It wasn’t just that, it was how good it felt. This pleasant tingling sensation, through her whole body. This time it was even more powerful. This time, a low moan even escaped her lips.

‘There’s a good girl, stare into the light, and become the beautiful, sexy model you’ve always dreamed of being,’ Doctor Summers said.

Alex repeated the words beautiful, sexy, and always dreamed back to him, as the light caused them to penetrate deep into her mind. Yes, this was what she’d always dreamed of, to be admired for her beauty. That’s why she didn’t like her old job, she couldn’t dress to show off, she couldn’t act sexy or seductive in anyway. The light made all this so clear to her as each flash made her feel better and better. She was in bliss; the Doctor’s words overtook her own thoughts and began to hollow out her brain. She wouldn’t know what he put inside, as the light kept her complete, utter attention. When Alex next came to, she found herself looking quite different.

‘Alex? I thought I’d lost you there, you seemed awfully sleepy,’ Dr Summers said.

         Alex yawned and stretched, her breasts jiggling in her crop top as she did. She wore a short skirt too now, and a face full of makeup. It was totally normal to her, she always liked to dress pretty and comfortable like this. Alex plopped her feet up on the desk again, legs spread wide, panties on full display. Not that she noticed or cared.

‘Oh, hey Doc! Yeah guess I was feeling a little sleepy, sorry about that. Now what were we talking about?’ she asked.

‘You were saying about modelling, how maybe we could do a quick test shoot here. I’ve got some good screen capture software, and with your internet we should get some clear, good pictures from it,’ he replied.

Alex nodded her head, of course, she’d agreed to model for him. Before she could say anymore, there was a flash from the screen. One similar to that of the light. Alex couldn’t help but cross her eyes as it came in, and a wide smile spread across her face.

‘Apologies, I was just testing the software. Please stand up Alex so we may begin,’ Dr summers said.

         Alex did as she was told, taking a pose as the first flash came in. Her face did the same thing again, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver down her spine. There was something about doing this that felt so right, so good, so pleasurable. She took up a new pose, another flash. Then a new pose again, another flash, another moment of bliss.

‘That’s very good Alex, you’re doing so well. I’ll be using some words of encouragement with you, the kind you may expect in your modelling shoots, so please listen and understand them,’

         Alex nodded, as she took up a new pose. He encouraged her, called her beautiful, asked her to bare all for the camera. It didn’t take too many more flashes before Alex felt a damp spot between her legs. The Doctor’s encouragement didn’t help, as it seemed to grow more sexual in nature. This was normal though; this was what she could expect in her modelling shoots.

‘That’s a good girl, bend over for the camera,’ he said.

Alex bent over, her ass peaking out of her skirt. She didn’t even need to see the flashes now to feel that bliss. She found her hands drifting without realising, one lifted her skirt up, showing herself off further. The other stroked between her legs.

‘Good, show off that ass, you’re a naughty slut aren’t you Alex?’

‘I am?’ she asked, a little disorientated, was this normal modelling?

         Then came the flash.

‘Yes, you are Alex, a naughty, sexy slut,’ Dr summers replied.

Alex spanked herself, she moaned how she was a such a naughty slut, she needed punishment. The flashes continued in her mind as she began to envision the light, without even needing to see it. Another flash, another sexy, degrading pose. Another flash, and her tits were out on display. Another flash, and she was back in the chair, fingers rubbing herself furiously. Another flash, she played with her nipples, and offered herself to the Doctor. Another flash, and her mind was gone.

She sat there for a while, tits out, panties pulled to the side. Drool running down her face, eyes rolled up, a blissed-out grin on her face as she lazily rubbed between her legs. Alex was lost in the light now, even when the Doctor woke her up, it was always in her mind now, pulsing, teasing her, making her follow its will. She didn’t have a choice anymore, the light guided her, and she let herself be guided.

‘Well it’s getting late Alex, I have to go, I hope you’re completely satisfied with today’s session,’ Dr Summers said.

         Alex nodded, still blissed out, only regaining a semblance of consciousness as the Doctor left the call. She stayed online only for a few more minutes to order a few things, then stripped off. It was so late now; she must have been on the call for longer than she realised. Alex slid into bed naked, in her sleep the light would cleanse her mind of the last remnants of free will. Deep in her mind, Alex could envision a version of herself, her old self. The one that now struggled futilely against the lights power. It already engulfed most of her, binding her in place. She begged her mind to realise what the light had done, realise what Doctor Summers had done to her.

‘Please wake up Alex, please,’ she pleaded with herself.

She didn’t wake up, instead the light flashed in that Alex’s eyes, and she began to realise what she always knew.

‘I have always been under the control of the light,’ she said, monotone, eyes now glowing from the light.

Soon, it would be a fundamental truth in her mind, as the light remade Alex as it saw fit.

         She awoke the next day totally naked, as per usual. All she had to do today was await her deliveries, and then conduct a follow up session with Doctor Summers. Just thinking about him made her excited, aroused, wet. Soon enough, her deliveries were there, she opened the door naked, the delivery man stumbling back. Alex simply smiled at him, taking her packages, and signing for them. She went back into the apartment, thinking how he looked like he had a nice cock, as she opened up her deliveries. One was a red, crotchless, open cup teddy. It was her new work uniform. She put it on, admiring herself in the mirror. She squeezed her firm tits, thinking about a boob job in her future. Her ass though was already looking good, although squatting would definitely be part of her daily exercise routine. In the second package was a brand-new makeup set, one that made her eyes dark and dusky. Her lips red and full. Then last, but most certainly not least, was the eight-inch dildo, one of the tools of her new trade. Her phone buzzed; it was a message from the Doctor. It was time for her follow up session.

         Alex turned on her laptop, got comfy in her chair with her legs spread, one hand stroking her pussy, the other setting up the call.

‘Hello Lexxi, I have to say you look extra slutty, did you enjoy yourself yesterday?’ Dr Summers said.

‘Mmm, hey Doc, of course I did. I’m so happy you made me realise what the right career was for me,’ she replied.

         That’s what they’d discussed yesterday of course, her perfect career. She could dress comfortable and casually, do it from her own home, and enjoy herself while working. She was to be a camgirl. She would play with herself on cam, pleasure herself and do whatever her attentive viewers asked her to. More toys would be bought in time, and the light would see to it that any fetish she needed engrained in her mind would be. Of course, once the lockdown lifted, she could pleasure her clients in person. Doctor Summers included, him for free, as she was so thankful for his help.

‘Well it’s not just me you should thank, is it?’ he said.

         A third caller joined, her friend who’d recommended his career guidance. She too sat in the same lingerie, the same dolled up look, the same brainwashed mind.

‘Now girls, stare on into the light again, as the Doctor gives you the career guidance you need,’

They replied in a monotone synchronicity, moaning out “Yes Doctor, the light knows whats best” as their hands sped up between their legs.

Eyes crossed, drool running down their faces and from between their legs. They were good little camwhores, blissfully happy in their new careers.

#hypnosis #erotichypnosis #hypnotized #brainwashing #mind control #adult fiction #oc #hypnokink

[mca-attack21]

The Sacrifice

Hi guys, this was an interesting concept that I thought I would try out. I haven’t quite decided if I want to leave it as a stand-alone or add a second part. Anyways, grab your bow-ties and enjoy!

You had gone on so many incredible adventures with The Doctor. As a side-effect, you had often been placed in dangerous situations, but you were never truly scared because you always knew that the Doctor would come for you. You knew that at the end of the day, everything was going to be okay because that was who he was, the man who saved the universe. You loved him with all of your heart and you chose willingly to put your faith in him. 

But this time was different. This time you were absolutely terrified.

The Doctor and you had traveled to a planet to waste some time as Amy and Rory were ‘honeymooning’ in Amsterduke. You would never pass up a chance for one on one time with the Doctor and were excited to see what the day would bring.

And everything was going great, at least until the two of you were captured. When you woke up, you were being held in some type of pod. You couldn’t move to even begin to try to get out. You saw that across the room the Doctor was strapped down to some sort of table, the aliens were hovering over his seemingly unconscious body.

“Why are you doing this?” you yelled gaining their attention.

“We have been waiting for centuries to find someone with time vortex energy to use as a stabilizer. He refused us, so we are going to take away his option to disagree with us by making him autonomous,” one of the creatures said bluntly.

“What does that mean?” you asked already afraid of the answer.

“We will end his independent brain function, and put his body in a permanent state of homeostasis. But don’t worry, he won’t feel it.”

“You’re going to kill him!” you yelled.

“We have no other choice. But don’t worry, as he stabilizes the ruptures in time, his existence will be rewritten, you will not remember him,” the creature tried to reason.

Your mind rushed as you realized what it had just said and with complete confidence you said, “Use me.”

“What?” the creature, who you later learned was the leader, asked.

“I am covered with vortex energy, and am entirely willing, let me take his place,” you pleaded.

“Stop, what you are doing,” he order those that were working on the Doctor. He then turned back towards you. “You would be erased from time like you never existed.”

“I know, please, just let me take his place.” 

“Why would you do that?”

“Because he is the most important man, the last of his kind, the savior of the universe. Killing him would devastate the world, but me? It wouldn’t even leave a mark.”

“Do you love him?” he asked.

“More than anything in this world,” you answered sincerely.

“Okay, we will test you, if you are compatible we will make the trade and let him go free, you have my word.”

With that, you were escorted to another room where a female came in and ran tests.

“You are very brave,” she said.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry, we can make it to where you will never feel it.”

“What if you don’t? What if I want to stay cognizant? To be able to remember everything?”

“You would be in agonizing pain, why would you want that?”

“Because then I wouldn’t lose him.”

“It would ultimately be up to you, though I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The tests came back and it was confirmed that you were compatible. The leader came back in and said that it was the most honorable thing to make a sacrifice for love. He asked if there was anything that you wanted to do before they put you in the capsule. You asked him for the chance to say goodbye to the Doctor and the ability to make a phone call to assure he’d be taken care of afterward. He agreed.

As you were led back to the room, you tried to prepare yourself. You knew that you could never tell him what you were about to do. He would try to talk you out of it, but the leader had been clear that it was you or the Doctor. If you tried to escape, he would kill you both and after what you witnessed earlier, you knew that he could. You took comfort in the fact that the Doctor wouldn’t remember any of this. You knew that if he did he would blame himself and it would absolutely tear him apart. But it was okay because he never would.

You put a brave face on and pushed the door open. The doctor was now sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He still looked awful, but managed to shoot you a weak smile as you entered.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you saved me, they are letting us go,” the Doctor said.

“Well, I figured it was my turn. You’re always saving me,” you replied taking a seat beside him. ‘But not this time’ you thought.

“I just need about an hour to recover and then we can go back to the TARDIS and forget any of this ever existed.”

Those words hurt you and you hadn’t really realized that you’d started crying until the Doctor reached up to wipe your tears.

“Y/n? What’s the matter?” 

“It’s nothing, I’m just glad that you’re okay. I was scared for a minute there,” you answered.

‘Even if that means that I will never see you again’ 

“Come on Y/n, I’ll always be okay as long as I’ve got you,” he promised.

This sentence brought more tears, which caused him to pull you into his arms with a painful inhale. You had to remind yourself that this was the only way. It was either you or him. And he would be fine, he wouldn’t remember you, he’d still have the Ponds and River. He would still be the Doctor, alive to fight another day. 

Without really thinking, you whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n,” he whispered into your hair.

The two of you stayed like that until there was a knock on the door signaling that your time was up. You felt like it wasn’t enough time, but you knew deep down that no amount of time could have ever felt like it was enough.

“That’s my cue, I have to go check on something. Just stay here and rest up,” you faked a reassuring smile.

“Oh, okay,” the Doctor said with confusion in his voice. He could tell that something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

You gave him a tight squeeze and in a moment of weakness you kissed him. You hadn’t even really meant to do it, but something inside of you took over. The Doctor was slightly caught off guard, but happy nonetheless. Another knock was heard at the door and you pulled away, leaving the Doctor with a slight pout.

You walked towards the door, knowing better than to turn around and look at him again. He mistakenly took this for embarrassment over the kiss.

“Was I that bad?” he joked, longing for you to smile over your shoulder and laugh.

But as you refused to look at him, he realized that it was something else. You hesitated for a moment as you reached the door and said, “Goodbye Doctor, thanks for the adventures,” and without missing a beat exited the room.

“Wait? What do you mean goodbye? Y/n?” he asked trying to push himself to his feet ignoring the aching in his muscles and the fire in his lungs. He watched as the door shut behind you and tried to force it open. His hearts sank as he realized that his feeling that something was wrong was being confirmed. He forced himself over to his suit jacket to get his sonic, knowing deep down that he was running out of time. But it wasn’t there, someone must’ve taken it. 

He was starting to panic, he was trapped in here while you were out there. He wasn’t there to protect you. He was also incredibly frustrated as he now knew that you were hiding something from him, him. That could only mean that you were about to do something incredibly stupid, something that you didn’t think he’d be able to fix, something you didn’t want him to see. A tear rolled down his cheek, that wasn’t your decision to make. He forced himself back over to the door, and tried to open it. The exertion eventually came to much and he sunk down with his back against the wall. He felt so helpless, this was all his fault. And for the first time in a very long time, the Doctor cried. But even as the tears fell, he started to forget why he was crying.

By the time the door opened, he was surprised to see who entered. For it was the woman who perplexed him endlessly. The one he was pretty sure that he was going to marry someday.

“Hello Sweetie,” River said with a smile, though he saw the sadness in her eyes, but, he knew better than to ask. Spoilers.

“River? What happened? Where am I? Where are the Ponds?”

“Amy and Rory are on a honeymoon adventure in Amsterduke. You decided to come here and waste some time, but bit off a little more than you could chew. Your captors almost killed you, but it’s okay, everything has been handled. Should we go find the TARDIS?” she asked pitching him his sonic.

“Of course,” he said, though he had this strange feeling that something was missing.

River grabbed his coat, which he gratefully accepted. Something was missing, where was his bow-tie? Oh well, he had plenty more in the TARDIS. Though he couldn’t help but feel a bit out of sorts. The two of them made their way back to the TARDIS and the Doctor made himself some tea to help his body rebalance itself. When he returned to the console room, he was surprised at River’s unusually quiet demeanor. 

“So, aren’t you going to ask where we are this time? Pull out our diaries, do the whole nine yards?” the Doctor asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, of course,” she said smile brightening her face. River knew how to put on an act for him. She was practically the only person alive who knew what had actually happened that day. But she could never tell him, time didn’t work like that. If there was any chance of getting you back, the Doctor would have to remember you for himself.

#doctor who #11th Doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #eleven #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor imagines #eleventh doctor x you #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #dw #dw fandom #DW fanfic