#every time I want to send an image I make like six wrong moves
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𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 🦢 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄?
Hello, lovelies! I hope you're doing well. I bring you another romance topic today, found from the vault, forgotten in my Google Docs folder! Let me know how it resonates. If you liked this reading, please consider booking a paid reading or tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo. ♡
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how to choose your pile. take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.
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disclaimer. this is a general reading for entertainment purposes. tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.
amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.
PILE 01. 🕊️
who is this person?
page of wands, the sun rx, seven of pentacles rx.
This person is very, very impatient. They tend to be more immature and on the feistier side, I definitely think they’re an extrovert or someone with Leo, Sagittarius or Aries in their big three. They might rush into things and have a bit of a self-sabotaging energy to them. Honestly, I think this person underestimates themselves and act out of passion and desire, so they’re not the most careful in love. They tend to be pessimistic because they wonder why their relationships go wrong, but they can rush into situations before they’re even ready and not always be willing to put the effort and time required for things to develop. Since they’re also being represented by the Page of Wands, you might question their feelings and motives towards you because they might seem fickle, even a bit childish for some of you. They have a lot of young energy, it could be in age or simply in their nature. By the way, this is definitely a new person, not someone from your past. I’m also getting more of a masculine vibe, but it doesn’t necessarily correlate to any specific gender.
how are they truly feeling?
six of pentacles, two of wands, the sun.
They see a lot of potential in your relationship with them. Like I said, this person tends to rush into things, so they aren’t super in their feelings about it, but they’re feeling very positive and they’re already wanting to make a move. This person could simply have a crush on you at first, since I don’t get any deeper feelings involved here. However, this person enjoys your presence a lot! You might have started out as friends and they love being in your presence, it turns their frown upside down. Since we also got The Sun card in the last question but in reverse, I think you make them feel more positive, happier and lighter in general. They are imagining a lot of things in their head for your future, but they feel that this connection is balanced and it could go somewhere much better than where it’s at. That’s also why they’re rushing, because they don’t want to waste any time.
what are the circumstances regarding this confession?
ten of swords rx, king of wands rx, two of cups.
They’re resisting these feelings. This person might be exhausted of all their thinking and imagining before they confess to you - they can’t wait any longer. They’re going to feel restricted and that’s why they’ll take action, so they’ll be super impulsive towards you. It might come out of the blue, at a totally random moment and it could shock you, but they’ll want to make sure to make it up to you later somehow. Maybe they’ll be venting to you and at one point they might kiss you recklessly or send a risky text. They’ll probably invite you to a date (especially dinner date) later on so that they can show you they’re interested and it’s not something that they told you just for the sake of it. They might be naturally flirty towards others, which is also why they’ll want to take you out, so you know that their feelings are romantic indeed, even if they’re at a very initial stage. They’ll be very, very nervous and fidgety (lol), might also stutter a bit and seem kind of random towards you. Honestly, there’s a lot of passion and you’ll seem even more attractive in their eyes. I can’t help but feel that they’ll try and plan everything out, only to be super hasty and clumsy with their confession (aw).
additional messages: summer breeze, “easy like sunday morning,” frat party, college roommates, sapphic/wlw, silk chiffon by muna & phoebe bridgers, 6:66, 222, light blue, hazy, champagne bubbles.
PILE 02. 🐇
who is this person?
five of swords, the lovers, knight of cups.
This is someone whom you might have had a disagreement with. The intensity of this confrontation likely wasn’t anything light, so you could’ve had a falling out of sorts. They have a lot of air and Gemini energy, so there’s a duality to them that can be confusing and contradicting to you, because of their sharp wit and their spontaneous nature. This person seems like a lot! Not in a bad way, but they have a very proud and stubborn personality as well. With the Knight of Cups, this is someone who had and still has romantic feelings for you, whether you’ve known it or not. Even if you didn’t have any romantic involvement with this person, they nurse something very romantic and dreamy for you. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an ex of yours, someone whom you were in a relationship with and ended things very badly. However, they’re not over you and no matter how difficult this situation must’ve been, they still love you very much.
how are they truly feeling?
five of pentacles, nine of pentacles rx, strength.
It’s surprising to me that this Strength card came out upright, because they’re not actually feeling strong at all. This person might be putting up a front, honestly. They could have some significant Leo placements and they might have turned this thing into a competition of “who cares less.” Which is immature, of course, but they feel left out in the cold, like all the future they had with you was lost. Even if they’re determined to make it back to you somehow, they feel that all of their chances and options were wasted and in vain. However, since we’re talking about their feelings, I don’t think it’s true that there are no options left here. They could be stuck in a self pitying mentality and that’s also what’s making them so miserable, even if they want to make things right again so badly. This person could type it out their feelings in a billion unsent texts and still be too proud to make a move.
what are the circumstances regarding this confession?
judgement, eight of wands rx, wheel of fortune rx.
Enough time will have passed you by and the dust will have settled. They’ll make this choice because I can almost hear them saying to themselves “enough is enough.” Things will feel stagnant and for some of you, you might have even forgotten or let go of this person after this time of silence. They’re going to make this call after a very long time because they’ll realize that they’ve wasted too much time agonizing over these feelings and their pain instead of solving it. I pulled another card for clarification and got the Knight of Cups again, so they’ll probably realize they’re still not over you and that’s something they need to get off their chest. Honestly, I think they’ll be much more humble and loving the next time you speak to them, not only because they want to tell you how they truly feel and show their vulnerable side, but also because they don’t really expect much out of you. They could feel that they’re out of luck and out of chances to be with you, so you’ll have to be really clear about your feelings with this person, pile two, because they’re very fearful, but they’re pouring their heart out into this confession because it’ll be anything but easy to them. Also, the Universe might have nudged them a little to make this call.
additional messages: broken strings by james morrison & nelly furtado, “i know i was wrong but i regret it now,” “i’ve been a fool,” leo, sagittarius, capricorn, gemini, “i regret what i said,” “our fight was really triggering,” sorry by justin bieber, 888, 999, 10:10, february, aquarius mars.
PILE 03. 🐻❄️
who is this person?
the tower, two of swords, six of pentacles.
This is someone who’s been through a lot, pile three. I think they can come across as insecure or even indecisive. They may be hard to read or someone who isn’t quite your type, but since they’re your next/first partner, it’ll be a welcomed surprise. They may struggle with making decisions, especially when it comes to confessing their feelings for you, because they might’ve been through a lot of difficult moments - like I said, this Tower also makes me wonder if they’re resisting some sort of change or feeling towards you because of their own fears. However, they try their best to be balanced. I think they’re very generous, very giving and caring towards people, but they may be harsh on themselves at times. This person could be a Libra, a Taurus or a Capricorn. I feel like they’re quite stubborn and they don’t actually like to take many risks. Perhaps being in love with you is something they found quite shocking, so it might take them some time to understand it.
how are they truly feeling?
king of swords, queen of cups, the hanged one.
So, I think after meditating on it for a little while, they’ll eventually evolve into a more mature, self-assured and calm energy. It may take them a while, as I said, but they’ll want to do this the right way, looking very steady and confident. This King of Swords is very logical and quite upfront, but they may be hiding their softer and more emotional side by the time they come forward. I think that the moment they confess to you, it won’t sound very emotional, but they’ll definitely be hiding this Queen of Cups underneath the King of Swords. The Hanged Man makes me think they’ll be patient with you, instead of demanding an answer right away, this person will want you to think about it, to really ponder over how you feel as well. But it also gives me the energy of someone who’s done enough contemplation over their feelings, hence why this King of Swords will come on strongly. They may seem more confident than what they actually feel, perhaps colder than intended, but they do have very strong feelings, they just don’t want to come off as too vulnerable or too emotional by the time they come clean about this.
what are the circumstances regarding this confession?
page of pentacles, the high priestess, six of swords.
There’s some healing coming from this person’s end. I cannot help but wonder if this person is someone you study or work with, but in whichever case, their offer will be something small, but significant to them. It may not be a “full blown date”, like something super luxurious, but they may offer to grab a cup of coffee with you to talk about these feelings. Something more subtle rather than super out there. Even the High Priestess itself has a more lowkey energy, so it’s possible they’ll try to do it in a more private or secluded space. I think this person will want to have a more quiet one on one with you, so it doesn’t seem like it’ll be a grand gesture. You likely won’t see this coming, so by the time they confess, you’ll have to use your intuition in order to see through that King of Swords energy I mentioned. They truly just want to let you know - I don’t think they have any high expectations over this, because the Six of Swords here gives me the idea that they’ll want to heal and move forward in case you reject them. With or without you, they’ll want to embark on a healing journey and keep going either way. They might feel a sense of relief or calm afterwards, like they have finally let these feelings and secret thoughts of you out. It’s going to be something very revealing for the both of you, something which will help them progress, whether this connection progresses or not. Of course, since this is your next partner, it’ll help the both of you move forward with your relationship and develop something from there.
additional messages: libra/7th house stellium, “i’ve made up my mind”, throw it on the fire by jon mclaughlin, “my life without you is just time”, somewhere only we know by keane, “i just want to know how you feel,” “take your time.”
PILE 04. 🦢
who is this person?
nine of swords, ten of wands, judgment.
I think this is someone who is always looking for “the light at the end of the tunnel.” It’s worth mentioning I am using the Vice Versa deck for your pile, so the imagery here is a little different than the original A.E. Waite deck. They’re likely a very hardworking and fierce person, but they’re also afraid of relying on others and asking for help. A little too proud, maybe? They could be an Aries or a Leo, but I’m more specifically getting Leo from this person. They’ve been through a lot, but still, they feel like life keeps throwing curveballs at them. Honestly, this person may suffer from burnout by the time you meet them, they may be a workaholic or someone very ambitious who wants to carve their own path in life. They may have had to start all over many times and have had a hard time finding their true calling in life, but they’ve begun to overcome these issues. This person can be very stubborn as well, maybe they don’t like hearing advice or asking for it somehow. I think you’ll recognize them by the way they try to tackle everything on their own and are a bit too proud to admit when something isn’t working or when they’re in the wrong, but they do mean well.
how are they truly feeling?
three of cups, knight of cups, the emperor.
They might be friends with you, but the feelings are too strong for them to deny it. However, with The Emperor, it kind of confirms the fire energy for me, especially Aries as well. So they’re a little bit ashamed of how soft they truly feel for you. It’s interesting because despite wanting to look and feel in power, they just want to give you the world, even if you might reject them. This person is hopeful, though. They’ll want to look very confident and may even show off a little bit, but they want to impress you and that’s also why this Emperor is coming through. They can (and want to) give you everything you want, to be the kind of partner who honors you, someone you’re proud of. They’ve got great intentions, even though they’re not very good at communicating or explaining their feelings, they may have a little bit of a “rough edge” to them or have a very, very rational and inflexible approach about the way they feel. It’s almost like they’ll try to be very self-controlled and tough not to seem vulnerable, but deep down, these feelings are very real and they truly cherish your company. Again, I think this person will be friends with you - or at least try to remain friends before moving forward with their confession.
what are the circumstances regarding this confession?
the star, queen of pentacles, two of pentacles.
They’re very hopeful! They may want to take you out somewhere fancy, give you the best of the best treatment and make you feel like a royal by their side. You may even find them to be a bit foolish? They’ll be so eager to please you, honestly. I even feel like the man in this Two of Pentacles card is juggling all things at once so he looks impressive or busy, when in fact, he’s struggling to keep up. I think this will be a very important and fancy date, something more.. official? Not something casual or anything you may take for granted. They want to make sure you’re comfortable and may even gawk at you a little bit. They find you really beautiful, pile four, that’s undeniable. There’s a lot of hope - they’re one hundred percent confident you’ll want them back (lol). I think both of you will be dressed up nicely, likely going somewhere to dine or walk? They think you’ve got everything, like you’re the full package, baby! It’s interesting that they’ll try to come off as The Emperor, but deep down I think they’ll try to find all of the ways in which they can “woo” you and make you theirs.
additional messages: “i’m worth it,” solar plexus chakra, if you want somebody by jon mclaughlin, poker face, “please notice”, the way you look tonight (cover) by shawn mendes, “can i kiss you?", fire signs, leo or aries venus/mars.
amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.
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Pale 10.4
oooh, I wasn't sure we'd get a Verona chapter this arc
“Can’t show you this one, Tash.”
Tashlit, lounging on a beach towel, reached toward her waist and gestured.
“No, this one isn’t rude."
I like the unstated "gesture"
Tashlit held up a finger. One. Then the ‘what?’ gesture.
“The first most recent email is a reminder from Ding Phones that my prepaid phone account is almost out of funds, please visit the site to top up.”
I'm reminded of a great bit from Bloom Into You where the protagonist is eagerly awaiting a response from love interest, and when her phone pings it's an automated version update notification
“My mom tried to give me the dumbed down explanations but it felt a lot like I was in the way. So I gave the excuse I had to get stuff sorted out. And then we left a couple days after and we stopped in for a visit with her artist friend and I think that was meant for me. Like, she thought I would be receptive and I’d get it and stuff, and it was cool to see the guy’s studio and stuff but like, I’m here and that guy’s alllll the way over there.”
I got to avoid this as a kid: if the people coming over for dinner were family friends who would want to talk with me I would stay, if not I could eat early and then just hang out elsewhere instead of having to stay at the table while conversations went over my head.
“Oh. Disappointed, but not disappointed in me. Maybe.”
disappointed in her own parenting skills?
Verona grabbed her book, flipped back a few pages, and found the image she’d drawn after Tashlit had insisted she would take every art critique seriously. It was rude: a crude and rude drawing of a guy hugging a two-foot-wide boner that came up to the top of his head.
well if all else fails you have a career path on furry twitter
Jeremy replied. I don’t know how to respond except pic just made my week. Have some pics of Sir.
oh big mood, I also start messages with "I don't know how to respond" or something similar. If I wait to try and find words for a good response I just never send it.
“Is my dad going to jail?”
The words left her lips before she realized she’d asked.
“Is that another priority, Verona? That your dad be punished?”
It was subtle. The tone a little cooler than before, less warm.
Oh. She’d fucked it. She’d thoroughly fucked it, hadn’t she? Because now the idea was in David’s head. That she’d had an argument with her dad and things had gone wrong and now she was a manipulator or she was trying to get back at him and he was a tool for her to do that.
I can't tell if the child protective services guy is geniunely disapproving, or if Verona is panicking and reading too much into it. Because tone cooling here could mean a lot of things (ie David worrying that things were worse than he thought). If it is that says bad things about him! Honestly my first thought in this scenario (especially Verona was talking about not wanting to move) would be that she was scared of hr life getting completely disrupted by her dad getting arrested.
It's also sad that Verona's first thought on getting a (possibly) negative reaction to a genuine emotion is worrying that it makes her look manipulative or petty, because that is 100% what her dad has been telling her
The way he looked off to one side here and there made her wonder if he felt like his time was being wasted, now. Or misused. He kept taking notes when there wasn’t anything to take notes on.
I think "kid in a protective meeting visibly panics when told their parent won't be arrested" is something to take notes on!
“Sits in bed and sobs and tells me everything I’m doing wrong and everything he’s doing wrong and stuff about my mom.”
“Okay. How often is that?”
“Two to six nights a week, except when I’m away, or like, not nights but in the kitchen after he gets home from work, he’ll start telling me I didn’t mow the lawn or whatever and then it gets into how much his coworkers suck.”
... that is more often than I thought it was. Six nights a week at max, gods.
“Exacerbated by life circumstances?” he asked. He started to take a note.
“Not- no,” she said. She watched him continue to take the note, ignoring the ‘no’. She could imagine that penned down ‘life circumstances’ taking all the heat out of what she was saying.
I cannot tell if Verona is reading this accurately and this guy is going to be useless or not. Leaning towards not because I want to be optimistic.
“The third was- we went shopping and I got on his case, called him a bad dad and stuff. I pushed his buttons on purpose, because I could. And he freaked and stopped the car in the middle lane of a three lane road and made me get out. Cars were honking their horns and passing on the left and right. And I had icecream I’d bought for myself I was too full to eat and it melted while I walked home. I guess that doesn’t count when I think about it.”
I MEAN YOU'RE RIGHT THAT ISN'T TECHNICALLY BREAKING YOUR THINGS BUT IT IS IN FACT MORE WORRYING FOR DIFFERENT REASONS
“When was this?”
“Christmas.”
winter in Canada? Admittedly I don't know that much about the weather but that seems hazardous
How could she even put it into words? It was pressure and pressure over years. It was telling her dad about her problems and it never mattering because he always one-upped her, and that added up little by little.
fascinated to see what people have done for Worm-style powers for Verona based on this as a trigger event
“Are you and your dad close?”
“No. I think he wants us to be.”
“How does he want you to be close?”
“Hanging out, watching movies. He’d rather I didn’t see my friends and instead went with him. I think he’s lonely.”
I normally think of this as a red flag in romantic relationships, but it's even more one in a familial relationship
It felt like every time he was making notes, he was taking down the statements or arguments she felt were weakest and most unimportant. Or stuff that made her dad seem more okay than he was.
Dad’s lonely, wants to bond with shitty daughter.
I really don't think that's why he's taking a note of it!
And also wow does Verona place the blame on herself all the time. No wonder she has self-esteem issues as part of the Kennet Trio, if this is how her dad has taught her to think of herself
…She wasn’t even sure what she wanted. She wanted to land this entire thing in the zone where she left her dad’s and went to Jas’s. That was the perfect outcome. It’s bad, gotta take this girl out of there, it’s crushing her and making her feel small and broken. So we pick her up and take her… no, that’s too far. Where’s a place we can put her that’s out of the house but not that super far away… Jas’s house!
yesyesyesyesyes. The guy mentioned temporary custody earlier, could that be this?
And even if it wasn’t impossible she couldn’t burden Jas like that, especially if Jas had a job she wanted and no time or money.
this has also been my concern with what is otherwise the perfect solution. Would the government provide a stipend for caring for Verona? It's not like she takes a lot of maintenance time-wise
“Almost died? Tell me about that.”
“At this thing I went to at the start of summer. I don’t want to get into it, it…
I think that's the kind of thing he has to follow up on, actually. Verona's dad not wanting more info on this was a red flag, and I don't think Verona recognizes how weird that was
I mean, she can probably pass it off as like an outdoors accident at summer camp (storm while hiking, bridge broke, etc etc) but she should have to at least come up with a story!
“Right now we’re in a middle stage, deciding what the immediate needs are. It doesn’t sound like you need to be removed from the home, and it doesn’t sound like you want to be removed from the home.”
:(
“I want to leave that house. I don’t want to go back,” Verona said. “But can’t I go to Jasmine’s, instead? Can’t- isn’t there a way to-” Breath hitched. She was aware her mom was sitting next to her. “Can’t we- you guys give money to foster parents, right? So couldn’t I go there, and couldn’t, um, you could give her money and I wouldn’t be a burden, and she’s a really good mom to Lucy and she’s lovely.”
the degree to which Verona is breaking down in this conversation is distressing
Verona didn’t know what to say when what she’d already said and how she’d reacted had probably hurt her mom, and her mom didn’t say anything.
eh, deserved
“Is it possible? To give Verona what she wants? I don’t imagine the money from the system going to her would be possible, like she suggested, but if we could divert child support, maybe?”
surprising W from Verona's mom! I mean, it means she doesn't have to change her life at all to accommodate her own child, so low bar, but this is also what Verona wants
“We’d be looking at… the schedule’s tight. This looks like, hm, three at-home visits over three months. During those visits, I or someone else with access to the file would be checking in to make sure that all course participation is maintained, that the house is safe. I would check in with Verona.”
“Only three visits? She’s so upset right now.”
“Resources are stretched thin.”
“You’re sending her back to that house?”
well fuck.
Lowering my estimation of CAS right back down.
Guess it's time to see if we can get Verona set up with a Demesne she can live in?
“I finished talking with David Williams. Then I called Jasmine, and I called your dad, and I called Jasmine again.”
Verona looked up.
“She’ll take you until the end of summer. Your dad agreed to it.”
oh fuck yes
And one way or another, by the end of summer things will be different
She was going to Jasmine’s. What came after could be saved for after.
The headache was gradually easing.
:)
“So he gave my mom a preliminary plan of three visits from CAS over three months, right?” Verona told Tashlit.
Nod.
“And that’s now going to be twelve over six.”
Double nod.
“And originally, anger management classes and parenting classes. Now it’s anger management classes and parenting and therapy.”
on the one hand, bleak that it took the drawing to get this boosted. On the other, good that this is happening, and specifically that when Verona felt she couldn't get meaning across in words, she was able to use her art to communicate
“I hate that we go off and do our own things and we don’t cross paths. And it is entirely my fault as the mom that I let it happen. A part of me hoped my situation would change or we’d grow into new interests that did have those overlaps… I did with my mom. It took until I was seventeen or eighteen before I could talk to her, adult to adult. But I screwed up.”
Yeah you did! I mean I also didn't have a lot of shared interests with my mother as a teenager, and I still tease her about saying "You know, I actually like you as a person" when I was ~22 (liking the person I was as an independent adult, as opposed to just loving me as her daughter) (english is my mother's fourth language so phrasing is sometimes off). But she still did her best to understand my interests, and was always engaged in my life. Adult to adult is not the only way to have a strong relationship with your child!
“Call. Anytime, any reason. I would move heaven or earth for you.”
“But you wouldn’t move,” Verona said
ouch
“Want to turn in earl-” her mom said, at the same time Verona said, “Want to look at my art?”
“I would love to,” her mom replied.
baby steps :)
“Boyfriend material?”
“Blegh. No. Not what I’m after.”
“A boyfriend? Are you-?”
“Nope. No, I wish. It’d be nice. No, it’s not the boyfriend part of that. It’s the material part of that. I’m immaterial. Maybe I’ll get there, maybe I won’t, but not right now. Lucy and Avery keep saying stuff like ‘uh oh’, poor Jeremy.”
“That doesn’t sound friendly.”
“It’s sorta accurate. Because we’re hanging out and he likes me and I don’t like anyone like that, so…”
aro Verona rights
A figure stepped out of darkness, and it wasn’t the local Others come to check in with her or welcome her to the area.
UHM?
“You tell me. Look what I found, or well, look who found me while I was out there!”
At that cue, Miss stepped out from behind the power pole. Wind picked up and dust from the roadside hid her face.
oh fuck yes
“A good one,” Miss said, walking past the girls. She walked up to Rook, and the two of them hugged. “Hello, it’s been some time.”
huh! Didn't see that coming, but potentially very useful if they have Miss bridging the gap between them and Crooked Rook
“I asked Rook to make sure you three were more or less alright until I could find my way back. She has, I hope.”
“She said she didn’t want to associate with us.”
“Maintaining that position let Matthew, Edith, and the rest draw their own conclusions about my intents and goals,” Rook said. “And it helps keep this secret right here.”
clever clever clever! This completly changes the balance of power in Kennet. Miss back, Crooked Rook as an ally, by extension Nibble and Chloe...
“Rook,” Miss said, sounding more than a little upset. She turned her head Rook’s way, and Rook adjusted the position of the mask perfectly, in accordance with that.
this is cute
“As long as Montague could seize control of the diagram at any time, on Matthew and Edith’s request… Miss can’t come into Kennet.”
good counter for Miss, but I think Montague might be recruitable? something to work on
“I’m thinking back to a few nights ago. At the factory. Edith pretty much sent Chloe right at us. She was aggressive with the furs, she’s been testing the rules. What if we dealt with her, like, right away?”
“Let’s,” Rook answered.
OwO
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You’re The Mystery I Need To Solve (Doctor/Reader) Part Eight END
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Drama, angst, fluff, language, brief mentions of blood and needles, minor moment of negative self talk but nothing too serious
Key: 🎭💣😋❤☂️
Pairings: Eleventh Doctor/Reader
Summary: You've had several dreams about a madman with a box and when you finally meet him in real life, you realize that something is very wrong. For some reason, the TARDIS doesn't react well around you. In fact, it seems to completely stop working and turns into a regular police box. The Doctor is terrified yet fascinated, and completely determined to solve this mystery.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight (you are here)
Taglist: @iloveangstposts
A/N: AHHHH!!!! IT’S FINALLY DONE!!!!! And I’m posting a little early as a special treat. I’m so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I’ve really enjoyed writing this story. I might come back and edit these parts eventually, just to make the syntax and grammer better, but no promises. Thank you so much for reading this far and for all your support! I hope you enjoy reading this part as much as I enjoyed writing it! Sending you lots of love! (P.S. I will start working on the last requests I got now that this story is finished. I still won’t be taking any new requests for the time being, but I will work on the ones I was sent.)
You toss and turn. Vivid, nightmarish images greet your eyelids each time you close them. Terrifying creatures, big needles, excessive amounts of blood, and all other kinds of violent things are all that you see. Sleep will be nearly impossible at this rate.
With a defeated sigh, you move to get up, only to realize that you are still in massive pain. A silent whimper escapes your throat as you realize how helpless you truly are. You want to call out for someone, but you’re afraid the Doctor will show up, and that would be way too awkward right now.
Seeing no other viable option, you decide to take a chance and call out for Amy, hoping she is somewhere nearby. Lady luck must be smiling down upon you, because no more than 30 seconds later, she comes running into the room.
“Is everything alright?” she looks a bit frantic, obviously concerned for your wellbeing, and you smile. It’s nice to be cared about.
“Yes and no,” you reply, as Amy moves to take a seat next to your bed.
“How so?” she asks.
You explain the troubling images that you see every time you try to rest your eyes, and the way your whole body still hurts like hell. You purposefully leave out your conversation with the Doctor, not wanting to think about that at the moment.
She listens intently and nods, thinking hard, before an idea seems to pop into her head. Her eyes light up and she stands quickly, saying she’ll be right back. She exits the room in a hurry and you’re left sitting there, completely dumbfounded.
She returns a few minutes later with a small glass bottle, filled with a strange liquid. She pushes the bottle into your hands and you take it, examining it curiously.
“What is it?”
“It’s this incredible medicine the Doctor bought for me at an alien market. It doesn’t heal you instantly, but it speeds up the recovery process a lot. I had forgotten about it until now. I once broke my wrist during one of our trips. I drank a bit of this and I was completely healed in a week! It was amazing!” she grins with excitement, clearly wanting you to give it a try as well.
“How much do I need to drink?”
“Just a small sip will do,”
You unscrew the lid and sniff the contents. It smells surprisingly fruity.
You glance at Amy, who is still smiling encouragingly, before taking a small swig. It’s sweet, with just a hint of bitterness at the end. It’s not bad, for a supposed medicine.
Almost instantly, you feel some of the tension melt away. You still have some pain, but it seems a bit duller than before. You also notice how much more relaxed you feel.
“Wow, I feel…”
“Really chill, right?”
“Yeah, super chill,”
“That’s one of the side effects. It makes you relaxed. Also, some people have good dreams as well. I thought it’d be worth a shot,”
“Thank you,”
“Of course! Anything for a friend,”
A warm feeling builds in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s the medicine or just knowing that you have a friend as amazing as Amy, but it feels almost euphoric.
You smile at her and she returns the gesture, before suddenly, you feel very sleepy. Amy seems to notice and gently takes the bottle from your hands, says goodnight, and leaves the room, just as you fall into a pleasant dream.
***
You wake feeling happy and refreshed. You’re not nearly as sore as you were last night and your thoughts are in a much better place. In fact, you don’t feel any pain at all. You make a mental reminder to thank Amy again when you see her.
You get up without any hindrance, a huge smile on your face. Throwing on a light sweater, you make your way down to the console room. There is a definite pep in your step, so much so, that you’re almost skipping. You feel incredible!
“Good morning!” you exclaim, greeting both the Doctor and Amy, your smile still ever present.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Amy says, walking over to you. The Doctor gives you a passing side glance but remains silent.
“Yeah, that medicine you gave me is wonderful! I feel completely fine! No more soreness or pain anywhere,” you bounce happily before the Doctor is suddenly in front of you.
“May I?” he asks, reaching out for the bandage on your neck. You are slightly surprised at his abrupt appearance, but you nod your head in confirmation. He avoids your gaze, instead choosing to focus intently on studying your neck.
He tenderly removes the bandage and examines the area, his eyes widening in shock. He moves back slightly before coming closer and running his fingers gently along where your wound was. You shiver involuntarily at his touch, causing the Doctor to briefly meet your eyes. He looks away just as quickly and steps back, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You’re healed. Completely. No trace of the wound at all,” he makes his way back to the console and continues working on whatever it is he was working on when you entered the room.
“What? But how is that possible? I mean, I know the medicine I gave them is powerful, but there’s no way they could’ve healed that fast,” Amy is astonished (as are you) but the Doctor seems mostly unfazed.
“I don’t know. I’m guessing it has something to do with their extraordinary abilities,” he turns to look at you as he continues with,
“You keep finding new ways to surprise me,” his expression is almost melancholic, but he looks away before you can get a good read on him.
The next few days pass rather uneventfully. The Doctor monitors your condition and you spend time with Amy, reading, talking, and drinking lots of tea.
You’ve just finished having a ‘tea talk’ moment with Amy, when the Doctor calls out your name, beckoning you to the console room. As soon as you enter, he starts rambling like mad, still refusing to look you in the eye.
“And so basically, I think I’ve created a way to keep you off the radar,” you really weren’t listening to anything he said, but his last line catches your attention.
“Off the radar?” you repeat and the Doctor nods his head, grabbing something from the console and making his way over to you.
“Yes. I still don’t fully understand your powers, but I think I’ve learned enough to create a dampener of sorts that will prevent other ‘interested parties’ from tracking you down,” he looks up at you for a brief moment while simultaneously reaching for your hand, as if silently asking for permission. You nod in approval and he delicately slips a silver band on your ring finger.
“Oh,” is all you can say, heat rising to your cheeks at the implications of him putting a ring on your finger.
“And I’m sure now,” he continues, meeting your gaze, “I’m in love with you,” his words make you draw in a sharp breath. You’re certain your face is as red as a tomato at this point.
“Oh,”
Is that really all your brain can muster up? He just confessed his love for you and all you can say is ‘Oh’? You want to smack yourself.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, seeming to sense your shock. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings, I just wanted you to know,”
You simply nod your head, not trusting your own voice. The Doctor gives you a small smile before returning to the console to work on… whatever it is he does at the console.
For a moment, you’re frozen in place, unsure what to do next. Bless the stars that Amy decides to make an appearance at this very moment.
“So,” she says, as soon as she walks in, “where are we going next?”
***
For the next three weeks, you train intensely to hone and manage your powers. The Doctor works with you to make a specialized training routine and it’s actually helping a lot. You have a lot more control than you did when you started. Now, you can do almost anything with ease. You’ve even traveled in time on your own and navigated your way back safely.
You’ve also discovered a number of other things you can do, from teleportation to creating new matter from nothing. You can even manipulate objects with your mind. On top of all that, you have a ridiculous amount of stamina and you’ve become extremely agile, strong, and incredibly fast. You’ve discovered that you can lift up to 230kg and run up to 96 kph. Basically, you can do just about anything. If you can think of it, you can probably do it.
It’s another full day of training, this time back on Earth, and things are going well. To be honest, you really don’t need to do any more, but you like the routine and the way it distracts your mind.
“997, 998, 999, 1000!” you finish the last push up and collapse onto the ground, feeling accomplished, yet hardly tired. You’ve barely broken a sweat.
“Wow, you broke your time record too. 1000 pushups in 30 minutes. Good job!” Amy congratulates you as she hands you a water bottle.
“Where’s the Doctor?” you ask, before taking a long drink.
“He went to get snacks. He should be back any-” Amy is cut off by the sound of an explosion nearby. The ground shakes, causing both of you to momentarily lose your balance. You share a look with her for only a moment before you take off running, telling her to stay put.
You round the corner just in time to see the Doctor being forcefully taken away by some strange looking creatures. He struggles in their hold, trying to assure them that it’s all just a big misunderstanding, but they pay him no mind. You hide behind a nearby wall, watching as they load him into the back of what looks like a military truck, with a dull green canopy stretched over the trailer.
You close your eyes and imagine all four tires popping, all the air quickly being sucked out of them. Not even a second later, you hear the sound of rubber bursting and you open your eyes to see that your manifestation was successful. You smirk as you watch the aliens scramble to figure out what happened, using the opportunity to sneak over to the back of the truck.
Just as you are about to look inside, the Doctor pops his head out. You both shriek in surprise before shushing each other. You stare at one another for a moment before suddenly bursting out in quiet laughter, giggling in glee as you make your escape.
You are able to find your way back to the field undetected, and you all decide to call it a day. You head back to the TARDIS, ready to kick your feet up and relax.
“Well, I’m gonna go catch some Z’s,” Amy says and yawns. You say goodnight and she retreats to her room, leaving you and the Doctor alone in the console room.
The two of you sit in heavy silence for a long while. You haven’t really been alone with him at all since… well, since he put that ring on your finger.
Your emotions have been all over the place since then and you’ve thrown yourself into training to avoid thinking about it. Honestly, you think you feel the same, and that terrifies you. You’ve never really been in love. Not like this, at least. This love is overwhelming and all consuming. It’s almost too much to bear.
“You alright, love?” the Doctor’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you jump slightly at his close proximity. He is standing right in front of you. When did that happen?
“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you try to brush him off, but he doesn’t move away.
“You sure? Because you seem on edge lately. I’m worried about you,” he reaches out to gently caress your face. Without even thinking, you lean into his touch, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
You meet his eyes and suddenly, something comes over you. You reach out, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him down into a passionate kiss. He seems a bit surprised at first, but quickly melts into you.
By the time you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Neither of you says anything for a while, simply enjoying each other’s warmth. Finally, the Doctor breaks the silence.
“Where did that come from?” he asks, still slightly out of breath.
You struggle for a moment to find the right words, simply gazing at him in awe.
“I- I think- no- I know that,” you start, stumbling over yourself. You pause and take a deep breath before blurting out:
“I love you,”
The Doctor just stares at you like a deer in headlights before a smile slowly spreads on his face.
“Do you mean it?” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.
“Yes,” you whisper back, and this time it’s his turn to capture you in a kiss.
The two of you kiss for what feels like an eternity, before he finally pulls away to look at you.
“Say it again,” he says softly, and you instantly know what he means. Even still, you want to tease him a little.
“It again,” you smile and stick your tongue out at him, causing a small laugh to bubble up in his chest.
“No, you know what I mean,” he lightly pinches your sides and you giggle, deciding that you like this game.
“You say it first,” you swear you see a blush rise to his face, but his smile never falters.
“I love you,” he says it with ease and you feel your heart soar. You resolve to let him get what he wants, just this once.
“I love you, too,” you say and his smile grows, shining as bright as the sun.
You and the Doctor. Your Doctor. Forever and always.
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#eleventh doctor x reader#doctor who#doctor who x reader#eleventh doctor#11th doctor#11th doctor x reader#fanfiction#reader insert#angst#drama#eventual romance#gender neutral reader#original work
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Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. EMT, this one is for you. Hope you enjoy. It is a quick one, but I tried to make it a little humourous…
(PS - as a total aside, I love Léo Ferré, so definitely consider this light persuasion to move him up your list, EMT. “Avec le temps” is one of the best songs ever written, in my humble opinion. Its lyrics are literal poetry. But I confess, I’m probably closer to Brigitte’s taste, based on what we know, than Emmanuel’s. I more of a pop/rock/electronic kinda gal. If people really care so they can judge my taste, I’ll share my favorite French artist with my next story.)
He had disappeared into the kitchen over two hours ago now, and it was the silence that was starting to worry her. Him, silent? That could never be good.
He had come home, carrying six or seven bags completely full of ingredients, struggling to make it through the door into the kitchen, protesting with a gentle - “No! This is supposed to be a treat for you! Go, sit on the couch, drink some wine, and relax.”
“Okay, but I’m right out here if you need me,” she offered, wary of how this would turn out, knowing his track record was full of well intentioned gestures that somehow ended up as messes such that she finds flour behind an upper cabinet’s door three days later.
“I always need you, but not for this. I want to treat you -“
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to! Now. Sit!”
“Yes, sir,” she teased, leaving him to his own devices.
And now, two hours and almost two full glasses of her favorite merlot later, he still was fiddling with something.
She was debating if she should go check on him. The rational part of her knew one, it was probably a disaster zone by now, and two, he would be mad that she would think so little of his skills she’d check up on him; but the irrational, panicky part of her, the one that knows when they leave for the Élysée in the morning if this place isn’t spotless they would be inviting every ant in Touquet into their kitchen, her control freak need to make sure everything was ok won out.
“Chéri,” she said gently, warning him she was encroaching on his space. “What the hell?” she asked when she finally was able to see the kitchen.
He turned around to face her, his sweet face covered in white powder like the rest of the countertop around him, hair sticking up from where he had hurriedly run his hands through it as he is wont to do when he is stressed, and what could only be charitably described as an industrial sized accident on the floor.
“I, uh, ran into some issues.”
“I can see that.”
“I bought the wrong kind of flour, so I substituted what we had for what I bought and that turned out weird, so I decided to scratch that, but then I dropped the first batch on the floor, and the cornstarch I was using as a thickener kinda exploded when I opened it -“
“Chéri, maybe it’s time to call it quits on this.”
“No! I wanted to treat you to a nice, homemade, romantic dinner. I wanted to make you feel special.”
“Mon cœur, every time you look at me, I feel special. You don’t need to cook for me.”
“Well, what are we going to do, then, because I refuse to have you cook.”
“How about take out? You pick the menu, even order the dishes. But if you really want to treat me -“
“Yes?”
“You’re cleaning up the mess this time.”
Helloooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️
Léo Férre is on my “to check next” list, don’t worry hahaha And I will check it, whenever the mood sends me to it 🤭
Thank you for writhing my piece 🥰❤️
Oh I’m so melting at the idea of an Emmanuel with his face covered in white powder and hair all over the place... and for now, this is my new fave mental image of him! 😻🤏🏻🥰🤤
Hahahaha having said that, I probably would have a little heart heart if I ever found my guy “destroying” the kitchen 😅🫣 hahahaha but making him clean it all up would also be the only possible way for me 😂
Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️
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there's something distinctly embarrassing about falling apart in someones arms, having them see the raw, misshapen parts of you, have every scar on your body bared like a sacred museum, every fractured thought spoken aloud to their ears -
something so bitterly repulsive about believing they saw you -
and then less than 24 hours later, have them disown you, spit on you, call you a traitor and a villian.
i hadn't meant to hurt you, im so sorry, you know me, i wish you'd told me how you were feeling in the moment but nevermind, i hurt you anyway, i demonstrated shitty thinking processes, i wish you hadn't lied to my face when i asked but i was a bad friend, i made the wrong move, i've learned to never to it again, dies on my tongue.
what do those words matter, in the grand scheme of things. what difference will they make, when you have already conjured this image of me in your head.
the truth is, i had the foresight to acknowledge the separation would hurt less if it were cleaner, abrupt. a ripping of a band-aid. you wanted us to experience an ugly unwraveling. you wanted me cut loose. you wanted me to make a fool of myself, to go on a rampage, perhaps - and i nearly did.
im proud of the way i handled things. but im so angry at myself for it getting to this point. how could you do this. how could you hurt me so deeply when you've known me for six years. sometimes i think you acted on impulse - i know of your temper; you were rash and regret how you jumped to conclusions and vollied insults at my face. you were rash when you agreed we should never speak again. but other times im not so sure. i never really learned to read you. seven years and you are still an enigma to me. you are still so good at lying.
maybe you were always just too broken and jagged to be friends long. maybe i was always too much of a people pleaser to tell someone when they were hurting me - but i at least never pushed them against the wall and bared a knife to their throat for their inability to read my mind.
im so tired. i think that i am over it and suddenly im about to send you a funny reel, or like a post on your story, or grin at you across the cafeteria, and then i remember. and the bruise aches fresh.
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*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*
summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.
pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer
content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!
word count: 5.4k
A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.
request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌
can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?
masterlist
"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.
"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.
"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.
it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.
"you should bring one of your other friends."
"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.
"I thought that was just me." he says.
"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."
you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.
"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"
Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.
you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.
he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.
you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.
eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.
"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.
"yeah?"
"go to bed."
"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.
"I could hear your breathing change."
"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.
"I wanted to say goodnight."
it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.
"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.
"now I can't because you made it weird."
"how did I make it weird?"
"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.
"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"
"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.
"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.
a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."
"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.
he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.
Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.
the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.
which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.
as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.
you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.
your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.
you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.
you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.
you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.
you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.
you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.
...
Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.
he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.
every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.
truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.
there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.
after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.
and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.
he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.
"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.
he definitely has a concussion.
"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.
"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."
Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.
he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.
he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.
he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.
Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.
it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.
"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"
...
you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.
"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.
"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.
of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.
when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.
"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.
"hi."
"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.
"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."
you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.
"Y/N, I'm really fine."
"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.
"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.
"sounds like a nightmare."
"it is." he cracks up.
"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"
"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."
"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.
"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."
"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.
"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."
"oof." you wince.
"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"
"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.
"yeah." he avoids your gaze.
"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.
"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.
you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.
Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.
"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.
"you already said that."
"shut up."
"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.
"whatever. you care about me, too."
he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."
your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"
"mhmm." he hums.
"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.
"I'd hope not."
"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.
"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.
"were you thinking about anything in particular?"
"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.
"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.
"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."
"like?" now you're intrigued.
"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.
"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"
Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."
you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.
"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."
it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.
"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.
"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."
it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.
your heart swells.
"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.
"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.
"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.
when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.
"I'm in love with you, too."
his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"
"yes." you nod.
he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.
"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.
"I'd say so, yeah."
he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.
"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.
you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.
there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.
never like this.
one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.
the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.
you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.
"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.
"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.
"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."
"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."
his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.
soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.
"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.
you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.
your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."
you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.
Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.
"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.
you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.
"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."
you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.
he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.
before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.
"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.
"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."
he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.
"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."
"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."
"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.
"mhmm."
"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."
"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.
"I'm a virgin." you say.
Spencer frowns. "really?"
"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."
"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"
"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.
"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.
"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"
"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.
"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.
"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.
"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.
"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.
you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.
"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.
"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.
"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."
"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.
"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.
he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.
his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.
"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.
"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."
you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."
Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."
you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.
"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.
"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.
it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.
you collapse fully, him still inside.
neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.
"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.
"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.
"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.
"we should try multiple times."
he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"
he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"
"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.
"yeah."
“good.”
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Draw your swords, pt. 10
Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.
Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos
Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine
=================================
A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.
Until now.
There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.
A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again.
This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.
When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.
"I sense some...hostility."
Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."
"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"
"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"
Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."
Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"
Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"
"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.
"Immensely."
With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"
Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."
Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of.
"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"
"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.
"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.
Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.
“I’ve discovered I love you.”
Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.
“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”
Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”
Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”
Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.
“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”
Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”
He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.
Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?
Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?
She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.
She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.
His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.
While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.
Once on the road, she took the reins once again.
Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.
Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.
How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?
“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.
Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection.
She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.
“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”
“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.”
She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?
Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.
“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.
“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.
“Of the black heretic?”
Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”
“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”
Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?
“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.
Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.
“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”
Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.
There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.
It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions.
“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”
Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.
When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.
“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.
She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.
Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”
Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her.
If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall?
What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?
She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.
Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.
Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created.
She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.
In that moment, she smiled.
Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.
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A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.
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PART 11
#the darkling#the darkling x reader#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova#general kirigan#general kirigan x reader#shadown and bone
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[𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙘] (001)
Jujutsu Kaisen x Male reader
Warning: Mentions of su!cide, gore, violence, and strong themes
"𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙣, 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨."
A smooth honey like voice dripped with interest of the vessel that stood before him. The male's eyes casted down before traveling back up the first year's torso. He licked his lip at the sight with a smirk.
"Oya? Oya? N/n-Chan where did you come from? You were supposed to be in Hyogo." A blindfolded sensei questioned. N/n, or better known as M/n sent a small wave at his underclassmen, who gaped at both his sensei and senpai with wide eyes. "Oh the other second-years would love this." M/n took out his phone and and started taking an array of photos of Megumi.
"Anyways, I was, heard there was a SGP (special grade problem) going on. Thought I'd check it out. You too?" He lazily draped himself against the older.
"The elders complained about putting my abilities to good use." Gojo chuckled remembering the annoying email from the secretary. "Anyways, who's this?"
"Yuji Itadori sir!" The pinkette quickly bowed. A hearty laugh bubbled in M/n's throat at the formal honorific. "Get up no need for that, cause a nice senpai like me cares for underclassman." The male proudly pointed to himself.
"M/n L/n. Say where is the cursed object anyways?" Itadori sweat dropped. "Well I ate it." "Damn the kid has balls." M/n bluntly stated making a certain raven haired sorcerer flustered at the vulgar statement.
"So how's Sukuna, or whatever his face is?" The (e/c) orbs analyzed Itadori looking for any sign of the curse. "He's annoying, he keeps on talking." Tapping his head with his palm signaling the telepathic link. "10 seconds."
"Huh?" "Come on back after 10 seconds." Gojo reiterated. "I dunno about this." "Don't worry I'm the strongest." M/n playfully rolling his eyes. "And if it gets out of hand, I'm stronger."
"Megumi, hold onto this will ya." Gojo tossed a paper bag towards him. "Can you also hold onto this? It's killing my back." The second-year threw a heavy duffel bag Fushiguro's way, almost knocking him out. "What's this?" Megumi's eyes lingered on the white bag. "Kikufuku Mochi." His eyebrow twitched at the information. 'He was buying souvenirs, while people were dying?!'
"Aww Megumi they're not souvenirs. They're for the bullet train back." Sukuna was suddenly in the air about to pounce on the 'unsuspecting' male. "Behind you!" Fushiguro yelled worriedly. Gojo dodged getting close to the curse's ear. "Two of my students are watching so, I hope you don't mind me showing off." He turned sending a blow towards Sukuna's back, making him stumble.
'He's unbelievably fast. Not only that-.'
"It doesn't matter what era it is, you guys are always a pain you stupid Jujutsu sorcerer! He dryly laughed. "But that doesn't matter to me." With a flick of his wrist chunks of concrete flew towards Gojo. Who when the dust cleared stood unscathed holding the rubble as nothing. "Should be about time." M/n clicked his tongue, while filing his nails next to Fushiguro. The markings on Itadori's body disappearing. "What a surprise! You can control it!" He yelled. "He's kind of annoying though." Itadori repeated.
"It's a miracle that's the only side effect." With that, the older tapped his head knocking the first-year out. "Aww booooo I was looking forward to annoying Sasuki more." The M/n whined like a toddler throwing away his file. "What did you do?" Fushiguro asked ignoring his senpai. "He's knocked out." Gojo stated holding onto the passed out male.
"I though you were smarter then that Megumiii." The two once again ignored the manic (h/c-ette). "If he wakes up and isn't possessed...he might have potential as a vessel." He reasoned. "Quick question what do I do with him?" M/n sweat dropped. "Even if he has potential, under Jujutsu regulations he must be executed..." He drawled off. "But I don't want to let him die!" Fushiguro finished with a determined look.
"Is that a personal opinion?" M/n playfully teased. "Yes, a personal opinion. Please do something about it." "Hmm a precious student's request." Gojo scratched his chin in 'thought'. "Leave it to me, and your senpai!" He exclaimed.
"So with that, let me reiterate...you're gonna be executed." The blindfolded teacher waved his hands around in finger guns. "This story doesn't make sense so far." Itadori grumbled. "Hey, Man, I tried. An execution is an execution, but I managed to suspend the sentencing."
"A suspended sentencing? So it's on hold now?" The pinkette questioned. "Yup. Let me explain from the top." Gojo went to grab something out of his pocket realizing it was gone. "Looking for this?" M/n's form came out of the shadows, holding up the shriveled appendage. "This look familiar?" Itadori raised a brow. "Another finger?" "Ding ding ding. You want a cookie or something?" M/n leaned on his sensei's shoulder aggravating him even more. "Its the same cursed object you so voluntarily consumed. There's 20 total, we're in possession of six."
"Twenty? Oh, including both arms and legs." Nodding his head in understanding. "Wrong, Sukuna has four arms." M/n stated nonchalantly tossing the finger up for Gojo to blast towards the wall creating a small crater like hole. The finger looked unscathed. "As you can see, you can't destroy it. It's that powerful of a curse.
With every passing day it gets even stronger." The (h/c-ette) moved from his place wandering behind Itadori, the hot breath on his neck made himself shutter. "That's where you come in. You die, the curse in you dies as well." M/n moved back rocking back on his heels. "The Elders have a stick up their ass and wanted to kill you right away. My dear Gojo and I thought it be a waste for a pretty face like you to offed yet."
A small pink flush dusted against Itadori's cheeks. "There's no guarantee that another vessel able of controlling of Sukuna will ever come around again. So... our proposal was, "if we're gonna kill him, why not after he takes in the rest of Sukuna". Killing two birds with one stone really. Your two choices right now are either to die now or wait to find the rest of Sukuna and die then." An intimidating aura surrounding M/n.
The next day
"Who died?" M/n asked picking at his nails, feeling oddly uncomfortable around the place heavy with death and sadness. "My Grandpa,he was more of a dad I guess though." Itadori hung his head. "I see, sorry to bother you at a time like this." Gojo apologized sitting himself next to the male. "Are there a lot of casualties with curses like this?"
"This is a pretty uncommon circumstance...But if you're talking about potential damage, yes." In the corner of Gojo's eyes he could see M/n's hand start to tremor. "...Let's just say, you're lucky to die normally after an encounter with a curse. Finding a body torn in two is still a light death compared to the others..."
M/n stare burned into the bench a few feet in front of them. Walking off as flashes of blood painting the walls continued replaying in his head. "What's wrong with him?" Itadori asked looking off towards where the male went off to.
"Not many things are known about M/n. Supposedly during a special grade case, they had found a witness around the age of 7 standing in the middle of what was assumed his family. The report was hard to read not much about the kid except the crazed look in his eyes and the astronomical amounts of cursed energy spilling from his body.
The case was left unfinished because they couldn't understand what exactly happened. The one account from the boy saying that it was a monster who killed his family. Of course when they checked there wasn't a sign of a curse. The elders shut the case down and took in the kid in, fear of his powers haunting them. From what I know, he was taught by the principal himself how to control his cursed abilities.
When I was in my last year, I heard about an incident including the boy with a special grade. It had changed him from an outgoing and friendly person to a husk of one. He distanced himself and gained the liking of inducing pain on himself. He's strange that's for sure." A vision of a preteen M/n slitting his arms for an 'experiment'.
He claimed the experiment was to figure out how many cuts he could endure before passing out. Itadori stared at the older with an opened mouth. An image of the bandaged male popped into his head. 'Bandages'. "When I saw him pass in the hallways smiling like no tomorrow, made me think if the incident had never happened to him..."
"...He would have a normal life" he finished the other's sentence. "But that kind of thinking is common when you first get into the game. You learn how to ignore those thoughts. Those thoughts alone could drive a man insane.
If you start investigating the remains of Sukuna, you'd probably some gruesome scenes, every sorcerer has their case that changes them wether it be for the best or the worst. Pick your hell."
"If Sukuna is eliminated, will there be fewer people killed by curses?" Itadori's grandpa's words rung in his head. "Of course." Gojo nodded his head. "You got that other finger?" "Yeah." Gojo placed the object in his hand. Itadori took a second to study it. "Now that I look at it it is pretty disgusting." He said tossing the appendage into his mouth absent mindedly swallowing it with a gross gulp.
'That's one tenth of Sukuna, how will that sit?' Black marks appeared on his body before leaving as quickly as they came. "Blaughhh, that was so gross." The male wrapped a hand around his throat at the taste. 'He's able to control Sukuna without a problem, heh.' Gojo thought. "I take it you're prepared for what's to come?" "Not at all. I am wondering why I have to be executed though. But I know I can't leave this curse alone. It's final, I'm gonna eat the rest of Sukuna. That's all"
"Yahooo! I'm back!" An overly enthusiastic voice emerged. M/n ran over waving his hands around. A bag slung around his shoulders. Something seemed off. An evident bruise starting to form around his neck peeking out from the loosely wrapped bandages. A cut lip and a few more scrapes littering his face. "What happened?" M/n shrugged still smiling.
"Just a fight, this delinquent looking guy said he had a bone to pick with me, he had his fun....and so did I~" He took out his phone, shoving it into both of their faces. Sure enough a buff looking male was in tears, tied up. "The old wasabi and mustard up the nose always works like a charm." M/n shoved the device back into his coat, before handing the paper bag over to Gojo who quirked his brow.
"I went on a little trip into town and got you this~" The male's hands roamed around the bag pulling out a box. "I saw this delectable Mochi stand and turns out their family were from Sendai. What's the chance they made kikufuku? I got them for free since the owner was an old friend. Told 'em it was a gift for someone special." He winked at the end. Sukuna lowly growled barely loud enough for Itadori to hear. 'What's your problem?' 'Shut it brat.' Sukuna coldly snapped.
"This is why you're my favorite second-year." Gojo chuckled as if he were a grade school girl. "Looks like it's shaping up to be a fun hell. Get your belongings together by the end of the day." He turned towards Itadori, Megumi now standing behind him. "We goin' somewhere?"
"Tokyo." Fushiguro answered with a battered face. "Ah! My little Meg-Chan is back!" M/n attacked the poor male in a tackle like hug. Snuggling his face further into the first-year's chest. A red hue danced acrossed the ravenette's face, as Gojo secretly took pictures.
Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School
The walk to the school was quiet, the only noise being the light chatter being shared between the two with occasional comments from M/n, who's interest was glued to a small book in his hands. The quietness of the curse had caught Itadori off guard, causing questions to form about his weird behavior. Sukuna seemed to keep his gaze fixed onto the object held by the other. 'The book he's holding..' Itadori's eyes flickered over to the small piece of literature questioning it's importance. "What are you reading?"
"Just an old book I'm rereading." The male had answered turning to the next page. "If you have already read it why are you reading it again?" His curiosity had gotten the better of him. "A good book never gets old no matter how many times you read it." What confused Itadori, is why Sukuna was so fixated on the older. A soft thud sounded out as M/n closed the book, placing it back into his pocket. "Anyways, you're about to have an interview with the principal."
"The principal?!" He exclaimed confused.
"There's a high probability he could reject you so make sure you go all out." M/n said once again picking at his nails in amusement. "What then! Immediate execution?" He snapped making the former quirk a brow at his statement. A small mouth formed onto his cheek.
"So you're not the boss? Pathetic, a hierarchy that isn't based off of strength is worthless." Itadori slapped a hand over his cheek, keeping Sukuna from further speaking. "I'm sorry about him, he pops out." "You have quite the amusing body now." M/n cheekily said.
Another small mouth popped out, this time located on his hand. "I owe you a favor you know."
"Not again!"
"Once I make this brat's body my own, you'll be the first one I kill. The male next to you will once again be my king when I take my crown back." M/n crossed his arms in confusion.
"It's an honor to be targeted by Sukuna himself, but what do you mean 'your king once again'?
"Have you ever wondered what caused the incident ten years ago? And why the Elders were so keen on raising him?" The mouth disappeared leaving both Gojo and M/n astounded at the new information.
'How does Sukuna know about that, and why did the elders drop the case as if it were nothing.'
"You wouldn't do that would you senpai?" A hopeful smile painted on Itadori's face. "...." The words couldn't form as M/n stood wide-eyed at the curse's words.
'I wouldn't, would I?...'
Next
#jujutsu kaisen#seme male reader#gojo satoru x male reader#itadori yuji x top male reader#jjk itadori#jjk fushiguro#jjk nobara#zenin#inumaki#sukuna ryomen x male reader#dazai osamu#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#top male reader#suicidal maniac#jjk
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By Its Cover - F.W.
Fred Weasley x fem!reader
Word count: 3k
Summary: fred knows he’s quick to act and to judge, but what happens when it backfires with the pretty healer he meets at st. mungo’s?
Warnings: malfoy!reader, mentions of hospitals, mentions of light injury, being estranged from one’s family, found family, adoption, insecurity
A/N: this is for @theweasleysredhair‘s 9k writing challenge! my prompt was ‘i love you, but stop talking.’ so sorry i took this long to churn it out, but i hope you like it 💕
prompt is in bold
–
St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was always full of healers rushing through the halls and patients with the strangest afflictions.
Y/N Malfoy donned her healer robes and walked confidently through one of the wards, on her way to deal with her newest patient. Some sort of accidental explosion. According to the file, he was a male, 23 years old, and had a history of finding himself in the emergency wing of St. Mungo’s. It was Y/N’s first time treating him, though.
Pushing aside one of the curtains to the correct cubicle, she was met with the sight of a long and lanky redheaded man, lying on the hospital bed with patches of purple across his neck and exposed chest. Other than the fact that his skin was discolored, he seemed perfectly okay.
His eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement as the nurse on duty made sure he was comfortable. Clearly, he was in no pain at all, or if he was, it wasn’t enough to stop him from sending flirty comments in her direction. Used to this kind of behaviour, the nurse simply rolled her eyes playfully and continued her routine checks.
“Ah,” she noted when she saw Y/N walk in, “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Healer Malfoy now, alright?”
With a soft pat on the patient’s non-purple shoulder, she gave Y/N a tentative smile and nod before exiting the small cubicle and closing the curtains on her way out.
Y/N, however, didn’t miss the way her patient’s shoulders tensed as he heard her last name. Her heart sank slightly as she saw the playfulness in his eyes dim, but she refused to let her feelings get the better of her professionalism. After all, she was quite used to this treatment from patients and colleagues alike.
“Hello mister,” she paused to check her clipboard, “Weasley. Now what can I help you with today? Could you tell me exactly what happened with the potion you were brewing?”
“Added the wrong amount of aconite,” came his curt reply.
“Right,” she said, noting it down on his file, “And what other ingredients were mixed in the potion?”
“Look, I’m completely fine. Things like this happen all the time at my workplace, the patches of color will fade away eventually. I just need you to sign the release form.”
Y/N’s brows furrowed and her smile slipped into a small frown. This was going to be a tough one. She had recognized his last name and she knew he was a pureblood. There was no doubt in her mind that the moment he realized she was a Malfoy, he created an image in his mind that was the furthest thing from what she truly was.
With a soft sigh, she prepared herself to deal with the resistance that would come from her reply, “I’m sorry Mr. Weasley, but I can’t let you go until–”
“Healer Malfoy, there you are!” said a little girl who was dressed in her own small hospital gown as she burst through the curtains.
For a moment, both adults in the small space gaped at her as if she were a ghost.
“Mattie!” Y/N said, surprised. “What are you doing all the way here, silly? You’re meant to be resting after the round of potions you took this afternoon.”
Currently preoccupied by her small ward, Healer Malfoy didn’t notice the way Fred Weasley was staring at her. As if she had grown a second head.
“But I missed you,” whined Mattie, wrapping her arms around one of Y/N’s legs. “You said you’d visit again to read books!”
A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips, “Yes, but I said I’d come read books after my rounds and after you napped! Nurse Thomas must be looking all over for you.”
The pout that the small child sent up at her nearly made it past Y/N’s strongholds.
“But I want to stay with you, Healer Malfoy!” she whined, “Please!”
With a bright eyed, stubborn toddler clutching onto her legs, she couldn’t possibly say no to the request. However, her keen awareness of the other critical pair of eyes on her gave her pause.
“Oh alright,” she caved, taking a moment to glance back at her patient, “But you’ve got to be good while I just finish up with my patient here okay? He’s gotten into a bit of an accident and I have to help him out. We don’t usually have purple skin, right?”
“Right!”
For the first time since she barged into the room, Mattie seemed to notice the redhead on the hospital bed.
“How’ve you got purple skin?” she asked confidently. Fred’s eyebrows shot up towards his forehead at the direct question before a large grin spread across his face.
Working at Wheezes gave him loads of experience when it came to curious little kids, and he was quick with his response, “I was making a secret experiment and it exploded all over me!”
His tone was conspiratorial and just enough for the little girl to move away from her position clutching Y/N’s legs and to inch closer to him.
“Yes, Mr. Weasley was just about to tell me what other ingredients were in his secret experiment so that I can help put his skin back to normal.”
Fortunately for the healer, Mattie’s presence aided in softening the redhead’s attitude towards her. With the little girl firing question after question for Fred to answer, he was much more calm and receptive to whatever Y/N needed to ask or know.
Unknown to her, the reason why Fred was more compliant this time around was because he was busy trying to alter the image he had conjured in his head about what a Malfoy was, and the scene he had just witnessed. He hadn’t known any Malfoy to be as patient, considerate, and overall just kind to someone who was not their own. Yet here she was, perfectly balancing a needy-child and a patient who judged her too quickly.
“Alright Mr. Weasley, I’m just going to pop out to get you the right potions to take for this and I’ve got to get Ms. Mattie over here back to her room,” said Y/N, “I’ll be right back.”
“Bye Mr. Weasel! I hope you get to finish your secret experiment!” Mattie waved enthusiastically, turning from her position holding Y/N’s hand to get one last look at the redhead.
When Y/N returned, Fred was sitting quietly on the bed, twirling his wand absentmindedly. The sound of her pushing back the curtains drew his eyes upwards towards her figure, and he sent her a tentative smile.
Well that’s an improvement, she thought, returning the gesture slightly.
“Alright,” she said, placing a box down next to him, “Here are the potions to take, there are two, you’ll have to drink them twice a day for the next three to four days or so. Your skin should return to normal by then.”
Y/N watched as her patient’s eyes darted from the box of potions to her face then down to his hands. He seemed hesitant now, a far cry from the ease and calm that he donned the first time she saw him.
Still, her job was done. She had equipped him with what he needed to heal and she had no jurisdiction over his temperament.
“If you don’t have any questions–”
“How are you related to Draco Malfoy?”
Fred’s question came out of the blue and it took Y/N off guard. Her heart clenched at the mention of her younger brother, the one she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Still, the question is much too complicated and there’s so much history behind it that he doesn’t know about, she shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she began, clutching her clipboard close to her body, “But that is a very personal question and I don’t like to share that kind of information with patients.”
She noticed him visibly swallow, “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Mr. Weasley. Don’t forget to take your potions, twice a day, for the next four days.”
Y/N’s back is turned and she’s about to pull the curtain of the cubicle aside when she hears a faint, “Wait.”
When she turned on her heel to face the redhead once more, there’s a sheepish expression on his face. He was rubbing the back of his neck slowly and the tips of his ears were tinged pink, “I-er, I’m sorry about how cold I was being towards you earlier. Is there a chance that I can make a better impression over coffee or something?”
–
It’s a little awkward, Y/N had to admit. They were seated across from each other, clutching warm cups of coffee and taking sips periodically.
She didn’t know what made her agree to meet Fred on one of her days off. Maybe it was the sincerity in his request, how he seemed eager to make a plan and see her outside her place of work. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the better of her, knowing that he was a pureblood and what her father would call a blood traitor.
Y/N had spent so many years hiding away from this part of wizard society, she didn’t know if she wanted to integrate herself back in.
“So, er,” Fred started, “Where’d you go to school? I don’t think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, and you seem to be around my age.”
That elicited a small smile from Y/N, “I went to Beauxbatons actually. Went all six years then got a healer apprenticeship at Mungo’s.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Do you know Fleur then? Fleur Delacour? Or well, she’s Fleur Weasley now.”
“Of course I know Fleur,” she gushed, “We shared a dorm. One of the sweetest and strongest witches I know.”
At long last they had a common denominator. After the stilted small talk was out of the way, conversation between them flowed freely.
Fred, Y/N found out, was wit and cleverness all rolled up into a 6 foot frame. He seemed to have a sarcastic comeback to every quip she made. They made laughs tumble from her mouth and stitches appear in her sides. It was every bit exhilarating and charming.
Y/N, Fred found out, was absolutely brilliant. Her mind seemed to be running a mile a minute but somehow she was able to put all of her thoughts into carefully worded sentences. He was caught off guard every time she let out a laugh, entranced by the effortless beauty that radiated from her smile.
Sooner than they had liked, their coffee cups were emptied and they were both glancing at the clock.
“I, uh, I really enjoyed myself, Fred.” Y/N smiled and gathered her things.
He sent her a grin in reply, “Me too.”
She could tell he was hesitant to say something, but she knew not to pry too much. Instead, she simply hoisted her bag over her shoulder.
The next day, Y/N walked into St. Mungo’s to find Fred nervously shuffling around clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. When he caught sight of her, a smile stretched across his lips and he silently placed the warm cup in her hand. Without saying a word, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, blushed profusely, and waved.
He had gone through the Floo before Y/N could say anything. When she took a sip, she was pleasantly surprised to note that it had been her exact order from the previous day.
Slowly, Fred Weasley inched his way into Healer Malfoy’s daily routine. It didn’t surprise her anymore when she would spot him making small talk with the receptionist as she clocked into work.
Like the first day, the first thing he would do was to hand her the cup of coffee. Some days he would stay and chat for a few minutes before he had to get to work, others he would have to leave right away. What always stayed constant, though, was the kiss on the cheek he would give her before leaving.
–
“Alright, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.” Y/N sipped her drink.
She and Fred had gone out to dinner after weeks of him showing up at Mungo’s every morning. When he finally had the guts to ask her out, she took one look at him before saying ‘took you long enough.’
He had been the perfect gentleman the whole time, showing up at her flat with a bundle of flowers in hand, opening doors for her, asking if she was comfortable. Y/N found it extremely endearing to see the cheeky, witty wizard trying so hard to make sure she had a good time.
Fred sent her a confused look, “What?”
“How I’m related to Draco,” she explained, “Remember? You asked me the first day we met.”
“Right. Right, yeah.”
Despite him trying to appear as if his curiosity hadn’t peaked, Y/N could see the spark of recognition in his eyes. She knew it was time to finally tell him everything.
She took a deep breath, “He’s my brother.”
Fred, who was in the process of taking a sip of his own drink, choked on the liquid and began to violently cough.
“I-what?!” he exclaimed, “How are you Draco Malfoy’s sister? How did I not know he had a sister?”
The absolute disbelief in her boyfriend’s face elicited a small laugh from Y/N, “Because I never went to Hogwarts. Ran away from home when I was pretty young, ended up living with Andy.”
“Andy…” Fred mumbled, mulling over the information, “You mean Andromeda? Tonks?”
She nodded, “Yeah. My house was actually a safe house during the last bit of the war, I don’t know if you remember.”
“Godric now I feel like even more of a huge dumbass for treating you the way I did when I first heard your last name.”
Y/N’s hand reached over the table and squeezed Fred’s. Her warm smile and kind eyes told him everything he needed to know. He had definitely apologized enough for how quickly he had judged her when she was introduced to him at Mungo’s. She knew that he knew who she really was, and not what her family name meant.
–
Fred watched as his girlfriend paced nervously. He wasn’t even quite sure that she knew what she was doing, but as she strode across the room, her bottom lip remained caught under her teeth and her hands were fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.
“Sweetheart,” he sighed after letting her walk back and forth for long enough, “You’ve got to calm down.”
“I’m totally calm!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to face him. The volume of her statement startled the both of them and Fred sent her a look that definitely said I-told-you-so.
She sat down next to her boyfriend with a huff and instead of the sarcastic comment she expected to come from him, he took her hand in his. The two of them said nothing as their eyes concentrated on the way he traced her small and nimble fingers with his larger ones.
“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Fred asked eventually.
At Y/N’s hesitation, he squeezed her hand gently. She gave in with a sigh, “I’m just nervous about meeting your family. I know you’ve talked to them about me, but they don’t exactly know I’m a Malfoy.”
Before Fred could even open his mouth to reply, she cut him off, “And I know, I know. Your family is wonderful and the complete opposite of mine. I’m just so used to bad first introductions–”
“Y/N, I love you, but stop talking.”
Y/N let out a nervous laugh at what Fred said, despite how unnerved she felt at the sensation of the bubbles of anxiety in her chest. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the tips of her cheeks and the back of her neck heat up as well. One would think after months of dating the cheeky redhead she would be used to his ways, but hearing him say ‘I love you’ always made her heart flutter.
Fred shifted, his body turning to face her fully, “Love, my mom would adore you even if you were a hippogriff with anger issues. The fact that you make me happy and that you love me is more than enough for her. You are more than enough.”
Then, he wrapped her up in his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. She could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart, and in the calming presence of her boyfriend, Y/N was able to settle some of her nerves. She could do this.
“I love you so much, Freddie.”
“I love you more.”
–
“Mum, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N Malfoy.”
Y/N knew that to have raised seven children and look great doing it, Molly Weasley had to have been some sort of super hero. What she didn’t know, and what she wasn’t prepared for, was how tightly the Weasley matriarch hugged and how gently she dragged her hand up and down backs as she was doing so.
It nearly made Y/N cry.
“Oh I am so happy to meet you dear,” gushed Molly once she eased away from the hug.
“Me too, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N smiled, “Fred’s been keeping me from you and your wonderful cooking for much too long.”
“Please dear, call me Molly.”
Before she could respond, Y/N was ushered into the kitchen where all of the food was waiting for her under a few well placed preservation charms. Y/N turned to look back at where Fred was standing, and he had a smug smile on his face.
“Told you so,” he mouthed at her.
–
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Investigations (Part 7): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader
wc: 1.6k
tw: NSFW is you squint
masterlist
song recommendation:
You try your best to shuffle around the kitchen surreptitiously, clicking the espresso pod into the machine with a soft 'snap'.
The machine begins its duty, whirring to life before the liquid is deposited into the cup below.
Success.
Your fingers wrap around the mug and take it to the counter, where you've already prepared your milk and syrup for a quick and easy cup of coffee.
Lately, you've had to sneak and make coffee (all futile attempts ruined by Kai or Ran), but you consider today full of promise. You'd gotten the formula down so far.
"I thought I said no coffee."
Your hands hover over the cup, the steam caressing your fingers like a warm invitation. Your eyes don't move to look at Ran, but they do watch his fingers snatch the cup away from you - full of warm milk and espresso.
"Y/n, it's not good for the baby."
"Okay, but..." Your feet carry you to the sink, where Ran is pouring the concoction down the drain. "Just a taste?"
"No."
"A sip?"
"No."
"I'll make it and just stick my tongue in it once."
"No."
Ran stands firm on his opinions at all times. Especially now. Arms cross over your chest and you huff, turning away from him.
"So strict." Ran fingers slide down your neck, resting around your full hips.
"It's not just about you," he begins, kissing the space between your neck and shoulder. "I'm looking out for our child, too. You know that."
"I do," you groan.
"Now, we have a baby shower to host. Let's get ready."
_____________________________________________________________
"We thought you were gone forever!" The three women come around you and huddle close, cooing, and crying, spewing lamentations and satisfied praises that you've returned.
Sanzu - out of the kindness of his heart - planned the baby shower, and you're at his house, eating cake with your friends and consuming hors d'oeuvres. But when you find a free moment, you corner Ran in the kitchen.
"Did you tell the others?"
"Tell them what?" Ran tilts his head at you and leans onto the counter, frowning. Your face smoothes out into an expression of disappointment, and you sigh.
Of course, he hadn't.
It's still your job to carry this terrible secret. It's still your job to bury your deepest, darkest knowing, all while the other girls are parading about like their husbands aren't killers and extortionists.
"Hey, y/n! It's time to open the presents!"
_____________________________________________________________
The water surrounding your figure is warm, full of bubbles and Epsom salt, as well as a little bath bomb that Ran bought - well, he bought sixteen, but that's beside the point.
"Feeling okay? Is it too hot?" You look over to the man sitting on the toilet seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes you pour water over your belly.
"It's fine," you murmur, blinking slowly. "Feels good."
"Want to turn on the jets or--"
"I want to join Bonten." Ran's face drops, his violet eyes clouding with confusion.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me." You stare at him, fully intent on getting your desired response. "I want to be a part of what you do."
"Babe, no." Ran leans his head forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"You haven't even listened to me," you whisper, looking down at the ten toes poking out of the water. "You always do this. You tell me 'no' because that's the way you want things. I can't even drink coffee without your permission."
"Listen, I'll let you do whatever you want, but Bonten is out of the question. You're pregnant --"
"Then I can wait until I have the baby."
"Even after that, I'm going to say no. This is a dangerous business." He emphasizes his words with a shake of his head, pressing his lips together.
"You act like I wasn't an investigative journalist for ten years."
"This shit could get you killed, y/n."
"Yes," you begin. "But you do it every day. I want to be a part of it."
"Why?" Ran finally asks, and your lips curl into a smile.
"I know things you don't know. The media follows you very closely, and you need a good image if you ever run into a problem with... say, law enforcement. What better way to prove that this is a harmless organization than hiring a woman - your wife?" Ran quirks his lips, looking at the door of the bathroom with consideration.
"Is there any particular skill you'll avail to us other than just public relations? I mean, I could get someone to do that who isn't my wife."
"I have connections that will divert attention away from Bonten, if necessary." You think of the little group you and the other wives have created, and send a mental apology their way. "You can use me to get the word out about any other suspicious groups who might be involved. Aid and abet, like a good wife."
Ran stands from the toilet, sighing deeply. "I'll ask Mikey. But don't expect me to attempt to sway him with my loyalty. If anything, I'll ask him to really think about it before he makes a choice."
"That's all I want," you breathe, taking Ran's hand and pressing your lips against the back of it. "You're too good to me."
"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart."
_____________________________________________________________
Convincing Ran to part with his old-fashioned ways is something you're very skilled at. All you need to do is get on your knees... and be as sweet as you can be.
"Babe," you mutter, sucking Ran's thick cock from the side. "You're such a good husband."
"Buttering me up for Mikey, huh?" Fingers cup the back of your head and push you down slightly. "Why am I not surprised?"
And every single time, Ran sees straight through your little act. But he enjoys it nonetheless. He loves seeing you like this - giving him the attention he missed so much while you were gone.
"Because you know me so well. And that's why you married me."
That's why you married me. Ran's eyes close as he re-imagines himself the first time he decided to visit you, hands full of shit he didn't have to buy, and eyes full of stars at the sight of you answering the door in a tank top and shorts with a cast on your leg. That's when he knew that he wanted to marry you. Not because you're good at anything in particular, but because you were so ordinary... So normal. He needed someone like you then, and he needs you now.
"Stop."
"Am I doing something wrong?" you murmur, but Ran shakes his head, strands of his black and white hair flopping back and forth.
"You're perfect," he whispers. "You're always so perfect." He brings you off your knees and face to face with him, holding you by the arms. "Let me make love to you. I'll do the work," Ran promises. "You just enjoy yourself."
"But--"
"I've already told you what I'm going to do. Just let me give you what you deserve." Ran angles forward, leaning into a gentle kiss that makes your knees weak and your head spin.
Ran spoons you from behind on the bed, holding your leg up and sliding in and out of you with care. The other arm is holding you against him - wrapped around your chest - as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
"I love the way you moan my name," he breathes. "You always know how to make me feel like the only man in the world."
"You are," you reply honestly. "You're the only man for me."
_____________________________________________________________
"Why do you want to join Bonten?"
The dead eyes of the man across from you are unyielding, and part of you feels nervous that he's staring at you so intensely.
"I want to help you all out. I want to make sure that not only do my children have something to rely on when they grow up, but that my husband is taken care of in all ways."
"Your children and your husband?" You think of Ran, who is just outside of the door, probably pacing with his hands in his pockets. "Your husband just spent three hours arguing with me."
"About?"
"You." The man stands, and Sanzu looks over at him with blank eyes. He wants to chime in, but he can't say anything right now. Not when Mikey was supposed to handle this himself. "Your presence here will be controversial. Especially since you're... in the state you're in."
"Pregnancy isn't a fatal disease."
"No, but being in Bonten could be fatal. And I don't know if both ran and I would be willing to accept the consequences of two deaths on our hand."
"But--" Sanzu raises a finger to his lips, warning you to be quiet.
"However," the man murmurs, rolling his neck around. "Sanzu, Rindou, and Kakucho have vouched for you and your connections." Your shoulders slacken, and you lean back in the chair, somewhat relieved. "I will put it to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever the outcome is, we'll both accept it."
A blind vote.
Thirty-six hours.
"Thank you, sir." You stand and bow slightly, hands clasped together. When you leave the room, Ran is waiting for you in the hallway, eyes wide.
"Well?"
"It'll be put to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever happens, happens."
Ran's face is anything but pleased as you drive home, but you don't worry about that too much. You have one and a half days to wait for the results, and you'd make the best of it either way.
#ran haitani x reader#ran haitani smut#ran haitani#tokyorev smut#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers smut#Spotify
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commercial break ; SIX
this is part of my netflix & chill series
this is foreshadowing for the next fic 👀
summary; Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out.
warnings; smut in the forms of riding, penetration, soft sex
rating; mature (18+)
misceallenous; jungkook thinks a lot.... and they're not always pg things...
word count; 1.8k
notes; i have been neglecting my og jk dream team couple so here we are! anyway please look [ here ] and remember this face ....
He’s never minded taking the reins before, but there’s something distinctly carnal that flashes in Jungkook’s chest when you ask to ride him that morning. The sun filtering in through the window beside him captures the entirety of your beauty on top of him, endless expanses of soft skin and dips and curves. “Pretty,” he sighs, hands on your hips. You’re so tired but so gorgeous, supple breasts bouncing in his face, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with each sleepy blink. Rarely do you push him down like this, hands on his chest as you whimper and grind yourself to completion, but Jungkook certainly wasn’t complaining.
In all the time he’s known you, Jungkook’s become quite familiar with your sexual prowess. You liked to play the opposite game with him, seduce him and push him until he snapped and took you over a table or cuffed you to a bed, all blessed experiences that he treasures very much. He loved how you sounded bent over the kitchen counter, or shoved against the sheets. If Jungkook had to pinpoint the exact moment his horniness skyrocketed, it was definitely the second his name left your lips in a breathy little whimper. He adored you and your body, liked taking care of you.
But every now and then… he liked to be pampered.
Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. Blindfolding you and having you cum on a riding crop was definitely the highest on the list and that was done; after that incident he’s woken many a night with a rock hard cock in his sleep shorts like some dorky teenager fantasizing about his girlfriend. And on the nights you didn’t sleep over, he was forced to fend for himself, the tape recorder in his brain recalling every single thing that had happened that night.
But now it was time to move onto the next, and that next bullet point on his imaginary list was letting you fuck yourself on his cock with no help at all.
Most times you rode him you tended to give up halfway through. You started off strong, overexcited glint in your eyes as you rabidly fucked yourself on him. But your natural pillow princess tendencies (no shade) always won over, always had you softly begging him to help. He’s always been more than happy to, especially if it meant coming sooner, but sometimes Jungkook just wanted to be used. Wanted to be pushed down and taken advantage of, especially if that was at your hands. It was a concept that probably went against everything your sexual relationship was built upon; him being the submissive one was about as rare as you not play-fighting back. And still, Jungkook wanted more than anything in the world to see that side of you, that femdom, as Doyeon had so meanly teased him about once.
So here he is, partially living that fantasy as you slide up and down on his cock. You’ve got one hand on his lower abdomen, the other on the top of a thigh, working yourself against him lazily. It’s not at the intensity of Jungkook’s dreams, but it sure is a sight. “B-Bend your knee for me, honey,” you pant, and Jungkook does, pulling his leg up until you’re sloppily using it as leverage to bounce on him. “G-Good boy,” you rasp.
It’s that word, that wretched word that makes something in Jungkook go soft, throw the past year of training out the window. He likes to think he’s in charge— he is —but every now and then you use that word against Jungkook and it’s like everything is reversed and always has been. Like it’s always been you leading sex, you telling him how good he is, and not the other way around.
He groans, tightens his hands on your hips as you continue bouncing away. Every glide of your warm folds around his cock makes his heart lurch, makes him want to bury himself inside of you and never leave. Jungkook would never admit it to your or anyone, but there was this rather clingy side of him that reared its ugly head when you were involved. He never wants anyone else to see you like this, never wants anyone else to feel you like this, which is where his spiraling begins.
You see, below that being-pushed-down-by-my-girlfriend point was another, slightly overlooked point, that entrenched upon dangerous, almost taboo territory. And that was stuffing you full of his cum— off birth control —and watching you swell and swell until there was no way you couldn’t be pregnant. And Jungkook, for some odd reason, wanted that really badly.
A soft groan above him, a lazy smile on your face as you reach down to idly toy with your clit, pussy flush against the base of his cock now. He knows better than to tell you to move because it’ll break this tender moment, this unique experience of you using him like some glorified dildo like he so desperately wanted sometimes. So he shuts his lips, goes back to that other fantasy that is only fueled by the soft swell of your tits when you move.
God, they would get so big, he thinks. Would be so round, just like the rest of you, and bursting with milk. It’s for the baby, for the baby, he tells himself, but there’s image in his head, this so terribly wrong image, of him suckling your breasts, holding your waist as the milk drips down his chin and over your skin, senses overwhelmed as he does something he’s definitely not supposed to. But you’d be so sweet, his mind says, would be so sweet and... full of life.
Above him, you giggle deliriously, sweat dripping down the slope of your neck. For a second he wonders if you’ve somehow tapped into his thoughts, seen all his perverted fantasies, but then you’re looking at him with that adoring gaze that makes his heart burst. “Pretty boy,” you tease, rolling your hips forward until that cute little button above your slit is grinding against him.
Yes, he certainly was your pretty boy, your good boy— he was whatever boy you wanted him to be. Why? Because he was so in love with you that the mere thought of you not being his and him not being yours made him gag. He just wanted you, so soft and warm around him, for the rest of his life. Maybe a belly? Maybe a child? Jungkook wanted it all, and his dick throbs at the mere idea of you possibly giving him that and more.
He was completely lost in his thoughts, never to be seen again.
A muffled whimper, so airy that it takes Jungkook a moment to realize it came from him. He’s too riled up to feel embarrassed, simply rolls his head from side to side as you clench those puffy walls around him. “C-Cum inside?” he pants, “can I— can I cum inside?” You lean forward; the tip of his engorged cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside of you, pulling a sinful moan from your lips. “P- Please?”
You smile, so pretty and sweet, it makes his dick twitch. “Of course,” you murmur, small hand on the side of his face, hips rolling rhythmically. “Wh- what’s that thing you said the other day?” you shiver, sleek skin catching the rays of the sun perfectly. A glittering highlight decorates your body, and that only tightens the coil in his stomach until it’s springing up with insane force. “Baby?”
“Yes?” he grunts, every muscle fiber in his body needed to hold even the smallest semblance of self control.
A giggle from you as he dazedly looks up. “Not you,” you chuckle, leaning down to sweetly peck him on the lips. It’s so soft and gentle, just like everything else about you. It takes everything in his body to keep him stable. “Remember?” you purr, hot breathe flush against his skin. “You wanted to put a baby in me.”
His hips jerk, a moan spilling from his lips that he doesn’t catch fast enough. “N-No,” he mewls, turning his face away from you like maybe it’ll prolong his orgasm, maybe it’ll lessen the aching heat around his cock. He can’t possibly hear those words from your lips, not when he knows you’re on birth control and that that notion is physically impossible right now. It’ll plant a terrible seed in his head, ruin Jungkook for weeks.
But you’re nothing if not persistent, forcing yourself down against him as he begins violently blushing, trying to mask his excitement. “Baby?” you repeat, as if he’s a puppy hearing the words ‘outside;’ fuck it, Jungkook thinks, he was whatever you wanted him to be. “Wanna fuck a baby into me, Jungkookie?” you exhale, hot breath against his ear. His hips spasm a second time, send you rolling down his cock with those perky nipples flush against his chest. “Mmmh, come on, honey… need you to work for it.”
And work Jungkook does.
His hands wrap around your frame, pull you flush against his body. Feet against the bed, thighs tense, he begins rapidly thrusting up into the warm entrance of your pussy, where yours and his cum seep out together. It’s slippery and wet, but not wet enough — he wants to feel his cum around himself, feel it bulge inside your stomach until you physically can’t hold anymore. “G-Good boy,” you whine, lips raining down featherlight smooches along his jawline. “Doing so good for me, honey—“
You’re cut off by the earth-shattering orgasm that consumes Jungkook, an almost feral groan that tears itself from his throat. “Mine, mine,” he sobs, doesn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. “Gonna be mine.”
A stuttered reply as your juices join his, leak down his softening cock until the sticky sweet fluid makes him feel dirty. It’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already covered in cum. But it’s worth it when you lean back with that pretty smile, push his damp hair away from his sweaty face with the practiced touch of an angel. “Did you like that?” you ask softly, not making to move off of him. In fact, Jungkook swears you squeeze around his quickly limpening cock.
Any other woman he thinks he might have been embarrassed, die from humiliation of presenting her with a soft dick. But with you, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet and soft, your silky folds milking the last of his cum straight out of his cock. Jungkook whimpers, head bobbing at your question. You cup his face in your hands, fingers like butterflies against his skin. He swears he could transcend right now.
Another languid kiss, tongue lazily toying with his until his mouth feels heavy from the saliva you push down his throat. The light filtering in through the window paints your skin in soft colors, makes him feel so warm and loved; he could die like this and not feel an inch of remorse.
Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#goldenclosetnet#networkbangtan#bangtanhq#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook fic#bts smut#mine
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dance me to the end of love (v)
word count: 4.6k
warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of poor parenting and damaged familial relationships
series masterpost: here
a/n: and just like that we're halfway through!!! it's crazy to think about it. however, lots happens in this chapter so buckle up peeps
Soon Magdalene’s feelings are going to get the better of her.
She knows she’s heading down a dangerous path but she can’t help it. Ryan is like a drug she can’t get enough of even though she knows it will hurt her in the long run. Living with him has opened her up to the laid back, intelligent, incredibly funny man he is and Magdalene doesn’t know how she’s ever going to function in her own space ever again. They complement each other like two peas in a pod, and everyone else is starting to catch on to the shift in their relationship.
“When are you going to fess up to Ryan about your feelings?” Bette asks as the two of them sit on the lawn across from the university library. It’s mid October, but the weather is still warm enough that Magdalene eats her lunch outside. Her best friend decided to join her today, no doubt knowing that she’s feeling a little lonely. The Avalanche are in the middle of their season opening road trip and have been gone for nearly five days. Ryan’s condo feels empty without him in it, and Magdalene misses him an unfathomable amount.
“Never, if I can help it,” she replies casually, taking a bite of the turkey wrap that Bette brought her from Barn Owl.
The blonde scoffs. “Fuck off. You have to. What are you going to do when he gets back from Florida and you tackle him as soon as he steps through the door.”
“Caligula will get there first,” Magdalene shrugs. “Those two are thick as thieves.”
Truthfully, Magdalene wasn’t sure what she was going to do. This is the longest they’ve been separated since she moved in and it’s proving to be a harder adjustment than she thought. Magdalene feels a little silly missing him so much – she went nearly twenty-six years without knowing Ryan but now he’s imprinted on her soul for the rest of eternity. Living without him seems impossible.
Bette drops the conversation then, almost as if she knows Magdalene is in her own world thinking about what to do. She mentions the upcoming home opener and her plans to attend with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends. “We’re going out beforehand and you should join us! I really think you’d like most of them.”
The bell in the clock tower rings, signalling the start of another hour, and Magdalene promises she’ll consider the offer as they pack up the picnic and say goodbye. It’s a short walk back to the building she works in, seeing as they were only across the street, but it takes a while for the elevator to come around. Magdalene could have taken the stairs down to the basement but they scare her a lot more than she’d like to admit. Hopefully June won’t mind her being a few minutes late.
Her boss doesn’t look too pleased when Magdalene strolls through the door almost seven minutes later then she should have, but as soon as she tosses the cookie Bette brought her in June’s direction all is forgiven. They work in near silence all afternoon, background noise provided by the small stereo in the corner and their respective grunts of frustration when an image doesn’t digitize properly. The university has finally decided to undertake the massive project of making all their school records available to the public online, and Magdalene and June are in charge of getting all the files ready before sending them to IT for installation into the website. It’s a huge task and is going to take them the better part of a month and a half to finish. Magdalene spends the rest of her work day finishing up a box of graduation records from the 1870s and leaves smelling of very old paper.
On the drive home she considers the invitation Bette extended to her. Magdalene knows she’ll be attending the game, having promised Ryan before he left that she’d be there, but she doesn’t know how to feel about going out for dinner and drink beforehand – especially with people so involved with the team. She isn’t like them, in nearly every sense of the phrase, and doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan for people to assume they’re together in case he ever does want to bring someone around, but Magdalene can’t help thinking that the speculation wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it would be the clue that shows him how she feels.
The invite stays in the back of her brain while she heats up leftovers and eats quickly, knowing that Ryan will call soon. He’s like clockwork with his precise game day routine, and he always calls shortly after four o’clock when out east. Magdalene’s phone buzzes from the spot beside her on the couch and she quickly scoops it up and accepts the call.
“Hey,” she says, a little breathless because she’s so excited to talk to him.
“Hey yourself. How was work?” Magdalene can tell Ryan’s got a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. She indulges the question, telling him all about the stuff she digitized and what’s next. Though she always tries to get out of talking about work, fearing it will bore the daylights out of him, Ryan insists on hearing every detail Magdalene wants to share. He finds it all fascinating and tells her so every chance he gets. During her monologue Caligula wanders over and becomes extremely invested after he hears Ryan laugh at something Magdalene said. The small white cat jumps onto Magdalene’s lap and tries to paw the phone away from her ear.
“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Little boots would like to talk.”
At the sound of Ryan’s greeting, Caligula starts meowing up a storm. It’s as though he’s actually holding a conversation with the man, waiting for Ryan to say something before he continues to make noise. Magdalene laughs through what could barely classify as a conversation until the cat gives her space to talk again.
“So,” she says, drawing out the word in an attempt to make Ryan laugh. “Bette asked me to join her and some of the other girls for drinks before Friday’s game.”
Ryan’s responding before Magdalene has finished uttering the last words. “That’s great! I think you should go.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, “It would be nice for you to know someone other than Bette.”
Magdalene is surprised at the response, but tries her hardest to keep her tone light and teasing. “Why, you plan on keeping me around Mr. Graves?” She can tell Ryan is struggling to come up with an answer because there’s a fair amount of sputtering on the other end of the line.
“I’d be stupid to let you go.”
All the breath in Magdalene’s lungs escapes her. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, and it sends her mind reeling. What does he mean? Unable to process the comment, Magdalene makes up an excuse and hangs up as quickly as possible. She spends the rest of the night wondering if Ryan was trying to make a move and deciding how she should handle his homecoming in a few days.
☼☼☼☼
When Ryan gets home Thursday morning Magdalene is at work. Caligula is happy to see him, practically pouncing on him and purring so loud Ryan’s sure the neighbours heard the cat. For an animal so small, Caligula can make a lot of noise if he wants.
“Hi boy,” Ryan coos, adjusting his grip on the cat so he doesn’t get dropped while the two of them move around the house. “Did your mom talk about me while I was gone? Been thinking about her a lot lately.”
The cat doesn’t respond, of course, but Ryan finds comfort in vocalizing his emotions. Multiple times on the road trip Tyson made fun of him for the silent pining he’s found himself participating in since Magdalene moved in, and hinted that she might have said something to Bette. Neither of them are great at keeping secrets, but Ryan also knows they want him and Magdalene to get together and aren’t above manipulation to achieve their goals. He doesn’t know how Magdalene actually feels, but Ryan isn’t willing to risk losing their friendship. Just a couple of months ago she sat on the deck of the lake house and told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship – he has to assume that’s still her position because if he doesn’t Ryan isn’t quite sure what he’ll unleash. Though the two of them are close, closer than most friends, Magdalene stills keeps a lot of things to herself and Ryan doesn’t want to pry. When, and if, she’s ready he knows she’ll come to him.
Exhausted from the countless hours of travel he’s endured over the past few days and the pains that come along with being a professional athlete, Ryan falls back onto the couch cushions. He hurts in places he didn’t know existed and wants to do nothing but sleep. Caligula settles into his stomach, purring contently, and though he knows he should unpack his gear, Ryan can’t find the energy to move himself or the cat. Everything will still be there when he wakes up, and hopefully Magdalene will be on her way home. She texted Ryan earlier in the morning, no doubt just before she headed out the door, to say that she was taking some holidays to have a long weekend and would be home around noon. Sleep comes easy with Caligula nestled against his body, and Ryan dreams of Magdalene as he frequently does.
☼☼☼☼
Despite Bette telling her countless times she shouldn’t be, Magdalene is nervous. The significant others of the Colorado Avalanche are a tight knit group and are very particular with who they let in. Magdalene is a nothing, has no true connections to the team besides being Tyson’s girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s worried she won’t make the cut. If it wasn’t for Bette picking her up in the morning Magdalene would have found a way to get out of drinks, but the blonde made sure she couldn’t make a run for it.
Sitting in the elevated booth, she not-so-casually sips her glass of wine while Bette tries to calm her down. “They’re going to hate me,” she groans, lowering her head to rest it on the table.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bette counters. “You literally know most of them, and Livy will be here if you get too uncomfortable, but most of them were at EJ’s back in May.”
Magdalene can’t argue with the truth, so she rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. By the time she flags down the waiter for a refill the other girls have arrived. They take turns hugging Bette and shuffling into their seats. Magdalene feels awkward with no one acknowledging her, but she does her best to buck up and deal with it. It means a lot to Bette, and Ryan, that she’s here trying to make friends so she’ll at least make an effort.
A blonde who looks a little older than the rest addresses her first. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Mel. I think we met last season at a game.”
It takes Magdalene a second to recall the face, but then she recognizes Mel as the person who alerted her to the fight Ryan got into to defend Tyson. “Oh yeah,” she chuckles, though it’s still got a nervous quality, “You’re the one who was yelling about Ryan’s fight.”
Everyone looks at her like Magdalene had confessed to seeing a ghost. “What’s the matter?”
“No one ever calls him that,” a petite girl with tight curls explains. “We all just call him Gravy.”
“Oh.”
Magdalene isn’t sure what the comment is supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all, but she does her best to push it aside because Livy is trying to catch up with her. The rest of the outing goes well – Magdalene keeps quiet until someone gives an inaccurate analogy about Rome and she has to correct them. It may make her seem stuck up, but she really hates when people spread misinformation. Everyone laughs, and after that it’s hard for Magdalene to stay silent. She talks about work and college, but when someone asks about home she shuts down. Bette notices the shift in her behaviour before Magdalene’s face has even dropped, and shifts the conversation in another direction. Soon it’s a respectable time to head to the arena and they all pay their tabs, Magdalene going first and then ducking out of the bar that became crowded while they were sitting down.
The fresh air feels good against her skin, and she takes the time alone to regulate her thoughts. There’s still several hours until she can return home and cry in the shower over the mention of her family so it’s important to present a calm facade. Bette comes out slightly ahead of the other girls and checks in with her friend, but Magdalene assures her she’s okay. It was a bit of a spook, but the other girls have no idea about how fucked up her familial situation is so Magdalene can’t hold it against them. The arena is a few blocks over, so the group walks towards it at a brisk pace. Magdalene’s mind is still churning from the bar when they step inside, so she peels off from the rest of the group. Warm ups are about to start and she knows that seeing Ryan will help to calm her down, at least until they can go home and she can sequester herself away from the rest of the world.
She finds a space against the glass and strains her eyes for her new favourite number. Ryan hasn’t made it out on the ice yet, but Tyson gives her a big wave when he skates past. It takes a few seconds, though it feels like years, but Ryan eventually steps out, all long limbs and hair and dazzling smile as his teammates give him big hi-fives. Magdalene doesn’t want to intrude but she needs to spend a few moments with him to feel completely present. When he skates by she waves shyly, and Ryan doubles back once he realizes who it is.
“There’s my favourite girl!” he shouts over the crowd, making sure Magdalene can hear.
The phrase brings a smile to her face, which in turn makes Ryan light up more. “Hi Ry,” she yells back. “I just wanted to come and say hi.”
Ryan’s heart warms at her words, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He’s lived with her long enough to know that something is bothering her but he isn’t going to push. There isn’t much time to have a conversation, so Ryan takes the time to make plans for after the game. “You riding home with me?”
Magdalene nods. “Yeah. Bette picked me up this morning so I didn’t drive.”
The loud sound of sticks clapping against the ice startles them both, and it’s Ryan’s teammate’s way of getting him to refocus. Magdalene says goodbye and before Ryan heads back to the bench he flips a puck over the glass for her. She smiles brightly, and watches him skate away. On her way up the stairs she hands it to a little girl wearing a much too big Graves jersey. It makes her night, and Magdalene returns to the private box she’s watching the game from feeling much lighter than when she entered the arena.
☼☼☼☼
Later, much later, after all of Ryan’s post game media and sitting through the traffic of downtown, Magdalene opens up about what was bothering her at the arena. The two of them are curled up in Ryan’s bed buried under a mass of blankets with several pillows strewn about. It’s become a frequent place for them to spend time, and every time they lay down Magdalene rests her head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps her in place with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Magdalene’s clutching his hoodie tighter than usual, her voice small as she speaks into the darkness of the room.
“I didn’t just want to say hi earlier.”
Ryan isn’t surprised by her confession, but wants to know what caused the surprise visit. “No? What was it?”
Magdalene lift head and shifts to face him, propping herself up with an open palm. “It’s kind of stupid,” she mumbles, feeling dumb for even bringing it up. Ryan doesn’t want to know the sob story that is her past life. “But it’s mostly okay now.”
“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t want to push, but I think getting it off your chest will help,” he whispers, feeling like talking in a normal voice could startle the girl in front of him.
He’s right – Magdalene knows it. Telling someone the truth, as much of the truth as she can share, other than Bette would do her some good. Her therapist once said Magdalene needed to work on letting people in, and she figures there’s no one better than Ryan. “One of the girls asked me about home when we were getting drinks, and it’s just a really sore subject for me. I shut down and just needed to see you to ground myself.” Ryan goes to talk, but Magdalene continues. “No one really knows, but I left for Denver as soon as I graduated high school. My parents weren’t the greatest, and I suffered a lot emotionally at home. When I told them I was leaving, they told me never to come back and we haven’t spoken since. So yeah, that’s pretty much it. And I just needed to see you to remind myself that I’m okay without my family. You’re part of my family now, the one that really matters.”
Ryan is speechless. “Oh bug,” he sighs, heart hurting for all the pain Magdalene has experienced in her life. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to scream for her, maybe even break something, but all his anger dissipates when he looks down and sees her crying. Silently, Ryan wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and holds Magdalene until she stops trembling. They lay in silence for a while, sitting with the weight of the confession she just made. At some point Caligula shuffles in and finds a spot at Ryan’s side that isn’t occupied by Magdalene. The three of them feel like a little family, and it’s too good for Magdalene not to do something about.
“Can I kiss you?”
She’s never been so confident while asking a question. Magdalene knows he wants to kiss Ryan, has known for a while, and after baring her soul to him it seems like an appropriate time to take the plunge. They’ve never truly been just friends and everyone around them, including themselves, knows it.
“Mags,” Ryan says in a gentle yet stern voice, “I’m not gonna kiss you. You’ve just been very vulnerable with me, which I appreciate, and though I really really want to fucking kiss you I’m going to take advantage of you like that.”
If it were possible, Magdalene’s heart would expand so much it would be close to bursting. “I promise this is what I want and that I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. So please shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”
She leans forward to connect their lips, and it feels like a fire has been ignited in her veins. Ryan is soft and gentle with the right amount of grit to make Magdalene weak in the knees. They move in tandem, giving and taking where necessary, and by the time they pull apart for air Magdalene thinks she’ll never be able to kiss anyone other than Ryan. When he looks at her, eyes kind and glimmering with light, Magdalene is certain kissing other people is off the table.
Neither of them make an effort to talk about what just happened or what it means. Instead, Magdalene kisses him again, and again, and keeps going until she’s completely out of breath. There’s no protest from Ryan, and he looks as blissful as Magdalene feels. She rests her head on his chest again and he cards his fingers through her hair as they sit in the comfortable silence that surrounds them.
☼☼☼☼
Magdalene keeps kissing Ryan, and he keeps kissing her. It’s always in the safety of his apartment, oftentimes with Caligula in the way, but wholesome and loving and warm. They haven’t defined their relationship, and truthfully Magdalene is glad. She likes being friends with Ryan and doesn’t know how the added pressures of dating would affect them – though she might like kissing him more than just being friends.
It becomes routine for either of them to reach for a kiss before heading to the door. Magdalene gets one every time she leaves for work, and if she’s there before Ryan has to leave for games he’s pulled into her lips by his tie. It’s fun and it’s new and Magdalene never wants it to end. She keeps the secret for a couple weeks, but eventually it becomes too much to hold in and she tells Bette one Saturday when they meet for brunch at Barn Owl because the boys are away.
“I kissed Ryan.” It’s out of her mouth like a bullet, cutting through the air and ringing out. Bette is shocked, jaw dropping, only to open further when Magdalene corrects herself. “Been kissing Ryan, actually.”
“You’re fucking joking,” Bette laughs, still not one hundred percent sure Magdalene is being serious. When the brunette nods her head, she squeals in what can only be presumed as delight. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”
Magdalene indulges her friend, and spills every detail she’s willing to share. Part of her wants to keep a bit of her life with Ryan a secret so she does, but Bette is more than willing to work with the information given. She listens carefully while Magdalene talks and waits until there’s nothing more to say before diving into a long list of reasons why kissing Ryan is the best thing that’s ever happened to her friend. Magdalene isn’t sure that it’s great because Bette will always have someone to go to games with, but she is in agreement that it is one of the best choices she’s ever made. They spend the rest of the morning giggling like school girls over potential love and Magdalene heads back to Ryan’s place feeling light and airy.
☼☼☼☼
The first thing Ryan does when he comes home is kisses Magdalene. She’s sitting on the couch with Caligula on her lap reading a book, and he doesn’t even bother to drop his bags on the floor before leaning over the worn leather and connecting their lips. It feels heavenly after the days-long absence and Magdalene chases his lips when Ryan pulls away.
“I missed you.”
They’re three words that shouldn’t mean much, but coming from him they send Magdalene spiralling. He missed her? The girl who spends her days geeking out over old documents and talks to her cat? Regardless of how true the statement is she appreciates it, because Magdalene missed Ryan more than she could ever explain.
“How was the flight home?” she asks, twirling a lock of his hair around her index finger and pulling him down for another kiss. Ryan happily obliges, and kisses her until Caligula begins to meow for attention. The cat practically launches himself into Ryan’s arms as he rounds the corner to sit down next to Magdalene, and purrs loudly at being reunited with the tall man.
Ryan laughs at the animal’s antics before wrapping his spare arm around Magdalene and pulling her close. “It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence that made it hard to sleep but I managed,” he replies, and reaches for the television remote. Magdalene hums in response, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder and returning her attention to the book in her hands. It’s silent except for the low buzz of the television as Ryan reviews tape, but neither of them mind. Co-existing is enough for both of them, and it’s peaceful and easy. The occasional conversation occurs but they mostly do their own thing, enjoying the feeling of being together again. More than a few kisses are shared, and Magdalene eventually pries herself away from Ryan long enough to make dinner.
They stayed glued to each other until Magdalene falls asleep. Ryan doesn’t even notice when it happens, but eventually he tries to leave the couch to get a glass of water and finds dead weight on top of him in the shape of the girl he just might love. Magdalene’s snoring softly, and he’s positive there is nothing more adorable in the entire world. A glance at the clock on the wall alerts Ryan to the fact that he should go to bed too, and he begins to brainstorm how to get Magdalene into bed without waking her. She’s been exhausted lately, working extended hours, and he knows she needs all the rest she can get.
It takes a few moments to coordinate, but Ryan gets himself upright without Magdalene realizing she’s no longer using him as a pillow. Gently he scoops her into his arms and pads down the hallway, careful not to hit her ankles on the walls or door frames. Once inside her room, Ryan tucks Magdalene into bed and makes sure her phone is on the nightstand just where she likes it. She looks so content in sleep that he can’t help but lean down and press a shirt kiss to her forehead.
“Night Mags,” he whispers into the dark, wondering if she’ll wake and hear all the adoration his voice holds.
Magdalene stirs at the noise, and opens her eyes to see Ryan’s retreating figure. “Night Ry.”
It’s late, approaching two in the morning, when Magdalene’s phone starts ringing off the hook. Though Ryan has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to turn her sound on before she goes to bed, she can never find it in her to heed his words. What if there’s an emergency somewhere and some hospital has to get a hold of her? Magdalene would never be able to forgive herself if she was too late because she slept through the incoming calls.
Despite her underlying fears of missing something important, Magdalene considers letting it go to voicemail. She’s exhausted, between the high maintenance projects at work and trying her hardest to go to every Avalanche home game she can, and if it’s urgent she’s sure the person will call again if they need her. It rings three more times before Magdalene decides to pick it up – if only to stop the incessant noise.
Not bothering to even see who’s calling at such an ungodly hour, Magdalene speaks in a sleep-laden voice that betrays what she was doing not even a minute prior. “Hello?”
Bette answers her, offering a quick but sincere apology for the time but explaining that it couldn’t wait. Magdalene groans in contempt, thinking that it most certainly could have waited a few more hours. She doesn’t voice her opinion however, instead waiting for her friend to spill whatever news was making her bounce up and down on the other side of the line.
She’s about to hang up when Bette utters a sentence Magdalene’s been waiting for but never thought she’d hear at one fifty-seven am. “I’m getting married!”
☼☼☼☼
taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlouisbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster @rapidfever @bb-nhlqueen7 (add yourself to the taglist!)
#ryan graves imagine#ryan graves x oc#ryan graves fic#colorado avalanche imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey imagine#hockey fic#cwrites#dmtteol
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jjk; off-league
summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.
pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader
genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity
w.c; 6.2k
a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write!
“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.”
“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach.
It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason.
You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs.
It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy.
You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache.
“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud.
Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long?
Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?”
“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly.
“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong.
But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon.
The most recent message is to a person named John Kook.
You scream.
Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—”
“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!”
“Well… is he at least cute?”
“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!”
“Tasteful nudes.”
“I’m gonna die.”
“He’s gonna die, of happiness.”
Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates.
Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM.
“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?”
“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.”
Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot.
You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram.
Of course, he’s stupid hot.
He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well.
To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more.
Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend.
Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league.
By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on.
“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen.
Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen.
Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.
“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?”
You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot.
“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?”
“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?”
“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.”
“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”
“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!”
The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”
“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.”
“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”
“—interrupting something?”
You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance.
And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing.
“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.”
Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures.
“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.”
You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something.
“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie.
Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.”
“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”
“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.”
Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy.
You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really.
Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing.
“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”
It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.”
Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment.
“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film.
You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic.
“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?”
He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.”
“You think right.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair.
“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?”
You frown, “At least put some thought into it.”
“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier.
His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot.
You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud.
Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes.
After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container.
“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?”
Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display.
“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”
The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?”
“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.”
Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation.
“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.”
You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking.
“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.”
Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.”
“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.”
For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.
“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize.
“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.”
“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.”
If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?”
Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.”
“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.”
You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you.
The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down.
When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks.
Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts.
Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed.
[March 12th, 3:53AM]
You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…
John Kook: ???
John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it
John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?
[March 12th, 12:02 PM]
John Kook: are u mad
John Kook: you’re mad
John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you
John Kook: im making it weird.
[March 31st, 6:24 PM]
John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…
You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture.
John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today.
Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring.
“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.”
You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.”
“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.”
“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.”
“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?”
"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.”
You choke on your saliva.
“You okay?”
“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?”
“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.”
“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?”
“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!”
“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”
“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.”
You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.”
“I’ll throw up on you, try me.”
Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off.
“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?”
“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?”
Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.”
Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.”
He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens.
Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists.
“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger.
You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine.
Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.”
He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.”
You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?”
“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.”
If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag.
Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin.
“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio.
“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”
You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony.
“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him.
“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.”
“It was.”
“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table.
He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.”
You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.”
His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity.
The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die.
Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more.
“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.”
He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.”
You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them.
As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.
Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.”
There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists.
Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset.
“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself.
“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.”
“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.”
He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink.
Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set.
Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.”
“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.
“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.”
You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.”
“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?”
Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—
“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that.
“Thinking about what?”
“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”
“Excuse me?”
“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?”
“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.
“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?”
“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.”
And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself.
“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.”
Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.”
“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.
“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.”
You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame.
“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home.
You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead.
“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade.
“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?”
He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?”
With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this.
“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”
#jungkook fic#btsghostiebingo#goldenclosetnet#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#bts fic#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x reader
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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]
ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 5: The Covert ✩࿐ ˚.✧
Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.
Word Count: 2300>
Warnings: possessive!Din, manhandling, discussions of an arranged marriage, food mention
Series Masterlist
You’d made yourself feel welcome on Nevarro. It was a beautiful day and you made the effort to speak to some of the locals. You even spotted a vendor selling sourberries, so it was a shame that you had no credits on you to make a purchase of the craved food. Grogu was having the time of his life too. He stayed close to you for the most part, but he did take you to a small green water pond so he could eat the frogs when you weren’t looking.
As you adjusted your cloak, you noticed, on the other side of the pond, a group of stormtroopers. There were about five or six of them, standing in a circle and making brief glances back to you and the child. It was enough to make you uncomfortable, that’s for sure. Din wouldn’t have taken you to another Imperial ruled planet. That would have been ridiculously unsafe -- so, why were they there? Maybe you were wrong to leave the ship. Maybe you should head back now.
“Hey kid,” you cooed quietly, reaching out to grab Grogu and hold him in your arms. “We better head back now.”
“Leaving so soon?” A stormtrooper asked, the second you swivelled around on your heel. He was just inches away from your face, so much so, you thought you could see his eyes through the visor of his white Imperial helmet. “We have eyes on the princess.” he announced through a comlink, and your eyes went comically wide upon realising the trouble you had got yourself in.
“Oh no,” you mumbled, your gaze snapping towards the stormtroopers on the other side of the pond, who were now making their way across the shallow waters.If you didn’t make your move now, you’d be surrounded in a matter of seconds. You slowly began to back away, clutching Grogu to your chest for dear life. “Uhm…” you could always negotiate. That was a skill of yours. You just didn’t know how well it would be utilizing in front of half a dozen stormtroopers. “Boys…”
And within a blink, each stormtrooper fell to the floor, one by one, their bodies crashing down with a thud. One even fell into the pond. You felt your entire body stiffen up, your heart rate picking up speed. You spun around again, ready to bolt back into the village and towards the ship, when you went crashing into a beskar chest plate. “Ow!” you cried, rubbing your nose as you pulled away from… Din. Kriff.
You looked up at him, feeling completely and utterly exasperated, and you offered the Mandalorian a weak smile. “I can explain…” you wheezed. “But how did you-- how did you--”
“Whistling birds.” Din replied, his voice having dropped an octave. Even through the modulator he sounded terrifying. You knew what whistling birds were, remembering that your aunt Bo-Katan trusted them deeply. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet before grabbing your arm and tugging you away from the backwater pond. His grip on you was tight, and firm, and you swore that he had more strength in his hand than you did your entire body. And you weren’t necessarily weak, you didn’t necessarily have a low muscle mass, it was just the Mandalorian was so hench. That much was clear when you noticed how thick his biceps were or how broad his shoulders were, or the way his muscles flexed in his calves with every step he took. You shouldn’t have noticed these things about him, but the fact is, you had, and it sent you into a frenzy.
Maker, he wasn’t hurting you, but he was absolutely manhandling you, dragging you across the grassy sludge as if you were incapable of walking yourself. “Din-- get off!” You growled, trying to tug your arm out of his grip.
Without hesitation he paused in his footsteps and pulled out a small counter device before flicking the switch and turning it on. Low and behold, a hologram image appeared of you. “What is-- what is that?” you questioned, not liking the look of it at all.
“Bounty puck.” he answered matter-of-factly, before turning it back off and sliding it into his pocket.
“I have a bounty on me?” You asked, your voice going a little too high pitched for comfort. Was that a dumb question?
“Yeah.” Din replied back, in a familiar low modulated grumble, his gloved fingers digging into your skin. “Not just any bounty, an Imperial bounty. You’re lucky I found you before some other hunter got their hands on you.”
“Yeah, I feel very lucky.” you rolled your eyes, your tone of voice dripping with sarcasm. And oh Maker-- Din didn’t like that. He stopped in his footsteps again and this time he grabbed both of your arms, holding you firm and steady. You were scared to breathe the wrong way under his grip.
“You should feel lucky, princess, you know what those kinds of people do to pretty things like you?” he hissed, and you felt a wildness of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Pretty. It was one word and he probably didn’t even mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it, because Din was pissed with you. He wouldn’t be paying you compliments, or at least, not right now. He was trying to intimidate you, and honestly, it was working, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little bit.
And as it turned out, maybe Din liked the idea of being your rescuer a little too much.
“What do they do?” you whispered, and Din trailed a gloved hand to your neck and let his fingers glide across your jaw before grabbing your neck and giving it an experimental squeeze. Again, it didn’t hurt, but it was enough for you to be put in your place. You had been so used to ruling Mandalore and taking charge, but now you were the one who submitted to Din. He was the one who enforced the rules, that much was clear.
Din didn’t reply to your question, just as much meekly chuckled and shook his head. “You’re lucky,” he repeated, reinforcing his previous statement. “But if you want to misbehave, I can just as easily hand you in.”
He wouldn’t, would he? No. He wouldn’t.
He was just very, very mad.
He was trying to scare you, but you wouldn’t cave. You were better than that.
But still, you wanted to know what exactly would happen if you misbehaved. Your curiosity had piqued significantly.
“You left me and Grogu on the ship, alone,” you muttered by the time you had reached the outskirts of the village. “I thought Nevarro was safe.”
“It was,” Din retorted bitterly. “Keep your head down and take my hand. Imps are swarming the town, we need to hide you before they notice anything suspicious.”
You weren’t going to argue with him because in that moment you knew for sure he was still desperately trying to protect you. He could stay angry with you all he liked, but he was bound by the code of Mandalore to make sure nothing happened to you, and that was good enough.
Din pulled up your hood and tied the little ribbon that bound together your cloak. “I can dress myself.” you mumbled.
“Keep your head down.” he grunted in response.
So, as Din dragged you through the cobbled paths, you didn’t look up once. He was taking you along back alleys and different routes to try and avoid any unwelcome contact, but you did realise that he had parked the ship in the north and you were currently advancing east. Grogu made a confused noise as if he was reading your mind.
“Where are we going?” you quizzed Din.
“Safe spot.”
If there was one thing that irked you about the Mandalorian, it was his lack of words, or the way when he did speak, he said things as if they couldn’t be questioned. Like they were set in stone.
“Safe spot?” you quirked an eyebrow, wanting a little more information out of him.
But of course, he didn’t provide. “Safe spot.” he reiterated, before dialling in a code on a security panel that was nailed to a wall.
The door slid open and Din pulled you in, before the door quickly snapped shut behind you both. It was a long dark corridor down that was illuminated with burning candlelight.
And for the very first time since your childhood, you were greeted with the presence of other Mandalorians, each decked out in full body armour. You felt like an intruder who couldn’t help but stare and take in the fascinating sight before you.
“What is this place?” you asked, your jaw agape.
Whatever annoyance Din had been feeling before was instantly eradicated when he took just one look at you. He felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed the glimmer in your eyes. It was curious and child-like. It gave you this beautiful radiance.
“Covert.” Din replied, the simple one word response offering more information than he’d previously given you. “You’ll be safe here.” he promised.
Din took your hand this time, interlocking his gloved fingers in yours. The touch took you by surprise as it differed from his rough manhandling that you had gotten accustomed too. You followed Din down the never ending corridor until eventually, you both passed through an alcove and were introduced to a golden Mandalorian.
“This is the Armorer,” Din said. “She’s my mentor.”
The golden Mandalorian curtseyed before you before rising back to her feet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”
“The pleasure is mine.” you hummed, still slightly distracted by your whereabouts.
“This specific covert is over two hundred years old,” The Armorer explained to you. “It was the only covert that wasn’t raided during the Great Purge,” You winced at the way she had brought up the memory. “The walls are thick and we have a squad on defence. I trust that Din Djarin has been treating you well?”
You tried to hold back a smirk as you wondered what would happen if you told his mentor of how he’d gotten angry with you. But the truth was, Din had been good to you. Maybe more so than you probably deserved. He never chose to take on this mission, but done so because it was his duty. He was helping you because it was the right thing to do, and that was enough. Morally, Din might have considered himself grey, but you believed that he was in fact a good person.
“He’s been great.” you said softly, and Din felt his cheeks heat up under the beskar.
“Hmph,” the Armorer replied before turning to the Mandalorian. “Can I have a word with you in private, please?”
You furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment as you watched Din and his mentor walk away, leaving you with Grogu.
“She’s not wearing the ring,” The Armorer said, and despite the golden plated mask that covered her face, Din just knew she was frowning. “You haven’t asked her yet, have you?”
“I haven’t exactly gotten the chance,” Din huffed. “We’ve just met. If I asked her now she’d never say yes. We barely even know each other.”
“But you are getting along fine?” The Armorer asked, and Din didn’t reply. He just breathed an exasperated huff of air which wasn’t even picked up by his modulator. “We can’t give her the protection she desires if she doesn’t marry into the Watch. This is the way.” The Armorer explained matter-of-factly.
This is the way. Din often wondered if the Armorer just made up ‘the way’ as she went along, using it as a way to justify all her decisions. Although, it did make sense, to a degree. Din’s creed were very proud. They were strong, and there were at least thirty other children of the Watch roaming the halls of the covert. If you married into Din’s creed, you would technically become a child of the Watch yourself. You’d be safe.
Would it be wise to bring up the things you had told Din about the Watch, and how they had treated your people? Din had been questioning it, but there was no way of telling how the Armorer would react to such gossip. The last thing Din needed right now was for his mentor to think he was betraying his creed in favour of the princess.
The prolonged silence between both Mandalorians prompted the Armorer to speak up again. “You have until nightfall to propose. Otherwise she must leave, and you will seek new protection.”
And that was when the first penny dropped. This was essentially blackmail, and it left Din with no choice. Sure, you were great. You were strong and beautiful and you had this undeniable fiest about you. And Din saw the way you were with Grogu. It was enough to soften him more than he’d ever been softened before. You brought out a completely new side to the Mandalorian. Maybe one day, Din could marry you - out of want, not need. Maybe settling down with you and the kid would be… nice.
He’d thought about the prospect of leaving everything behind when he last ventured to Sorgan and befriended the gentle widow Omera. But in that moment, he had other priorities to focus on. But what were his priorities now? Before you came into his life, he was simply floating between bounties and residing on Nevarro with Grogu. Grogu. That was Din’s priority. And now… you were too. So no, proposing wouldn’t be ideal. But if it meant guaranteeing your safety, Din knew what he had to do.
And he had until nightfall.
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Lovely Writer: Special 1
This is a rough translation of the first Lovely Writer special. There are 8 in total and other side stories that the author compiled. I’ll try to post 1 a week since they do vary in length, and some are a lot lengthier than this one.
This special is from Nubsib’s POV and it’s about Nubsib remembering his feelings for Gene after seeing him on Facebook, and becoming fixated. Nubsib is 15 at the time and Gene is 20.
At that time, I was in the ninth grade.
Since middle school, my parents had sent me to study abroad with my brother. Because of the wealth of my family, this was never an inconvenience. But living alone in a place that wasn’t your home country required a lot of adjustment, mainly doing everything on your own. You had to learn things that you’ve never seen and known.
This was one of the methods of teaching the sons of the Thanakitpaisan family.
It was their luck to have a son who was mature since childhood. It didn't take long for me to get used to the culture there, where I went to parties, attended sports clubs, worked a part-time job, and even had typical American teen sex. Being Asian did give me some advantages, when it came to distinguishing myself from the others.
I could only smile when talking to the many blonde women who bragged about our experiences in bed, amongst their group of friends. After some time, I felt differently about it.
"Sib.”
"Yes?" I leaned back on the sofa, and raised my head from his screen when I heard my name.
Neung came downstairs. He was wearing a thick gray cardigan with a scarf. "I’m going to go meet a friend. You're not going anywhere today, right? "
"Hmm."
"Okay, I might be coming back late. Please get my package when it arrives. You’re not going out with your girlfriend, right?”
"We broke up.”
"Huh?” Neung frowned. "You dumped another one? Again? You know, you don’t have the face of a womanizer.”
"…"
Neung opened the door of the house. For a moment, the cool outside air blew in, until the hot air from the heater disappeared. I didn’t care much about either, and stayed looking at my phone screen.
I’m not a womanizer.
It’s just that every time I got together with a girlfriend, something felt wrong. I knew I wasn’t in love with the first girl. The others, I didn’t like particularly much. Sometimes the girls didn’t like me much either, and only wanted a partner themselves, so we’d eventually separate.
It was true, that I was only in the ninth grade. But sex here was too normalized. It had become so normal that I’d become bored. When sex became so commonplace, all excitement was lost.
Mom: (send picture)
Mom: I’ve sent you Thai ingredients that should be delivered soon. They’ll be waiting for you.
Mom: Today, I went to see Aunt Run, do you still remember the house next door? Today is the Aunt's birthday. All of her sons have come home.
Mom: I saw it and I missed you and Neung.
I looked at the message that popped up, from the other side of the world. It was dark here, but over there it was probably in the middle of the day. It was time for them to eat.
Mom: Do you remember Gene? Gene and Jap are all grown up.
Gene?
After reading my mother’s message, it was natural to think of the past. I missed it. During my childhood I would run and play with him everyday, and just the same, Gene would play with me almost every day.
I still remembered “P’Gene” clearly after all these years.
We were five years apart. But we somehow became closer than me and my own brother. Since I moved out of the house, we never saw each other again. We didn’t have any more contact with each other.
When my mother talked about that time, I felt nostalgic.
I moved my finger to type to ask for a picture from my mother. In the end, I sent a simple sticker. I sat on the sofa in the living room for awhile before retiring to my bedroom to shower.
In my warm bedroom, so different from the night air outside, I picked up my phone again. I went to Facebook to catch up with everything back home. My finger kept scrolling through my news feed, my face blank. I started to feel sleepy, but before I could fall asleep I saw a status.
I wasn’t friends with the person who posted. But I was friends with his mother, who was tagged in the photo.
Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture.
This year, my mother has lost another year, haha.
In the picture was a group of six people. The background was a wide garden and a long table. Both of my parents, and Auntie Run and Uncle Teep were there. But the one that most caught the eye was the man in the lower right corner.
The other person grinned until his eyes were crescents. His hands were raised, flashing a peace sign. His hand held a cake tray with a delicious golden egg. The corner of the mouth was stained with white cream, like he was teasing someone. He was smiling, which made his cheeks round and full.
I couldn't take my eyes off of him. For a second, there was a strange numbness in my fingertips and toes.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me who that was.
P’Gene.
He was still wearing a white uniform shirt. It had been many years since we’d met, if counted by age. Gene would have been in university for three years.
Usually, I was the kind of person who didn’t care about the people around me, or anyone else. But this time, I couldn't control my fingertips. I clicked onto Jap’s Facebook page.
Chasing him down, I found a status posted with the person I was looking for tagged.
Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture
My brother brought me to the movies. What kind of crazy alien movie is this? I might puke, but maybe you guys on Facebook will like it.
The post was from three days ago. One was a picture of a cinema ticket on the top floor of a department store in the heart of Bangkok and the other was of P’Gene in a T-shirt and jeans. He hugged a bucket of popcorn. His hand was holding a large glass of water, lifting it up to his lips and sucking. It was a funny candid photo that many of his friends on Facebook commented on to make fun of him.
...but for me, the only word that came to mind was “lovely”.
I didn’t know why I was doing this but I pressed “save that image”.
Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture
My stupid little brother, you make the whole house look bad.
They were in a garden in the corner of the house that felt familiar to me, but was a little fuzzy. They were in front of a flower bush that had been trimmed into a square. Gene was sitting down, with his butt on the ground. A blue hose fell next to him, the hose spraying in another direction. It made him wet all over soaking his shirt, the thin material clinging to his body.
Both of his arms were behind him, to support his body. Therefore, his shirt and body were stretched, so I could see two small nubs contrasted and poking through his white shirt.
My eyebrows furrowed together, and I frowned.
I cursed when my body immediately had a strong reaction, just from the one picture.
I pressed the comment section, when I saw the high number of comments.
Jiranon Jarernpipat: Jap stop posting pictures of other people.
(Reply) Jap Jarernpipat attached video clip.
I clicked play immediately.
"Ow, P’Jap!”
“Hahaha, why would you say you’ll help me water the plants? You can help if the grass is dead.”
“Can you turn off the water for me first? Why are you recording?”
P’Gene raised his white hand. He wiped the water from his face, and pushed himself off the ground. His shirt clung to his body, so I could see everything. He had the voice of a man, but he was still so cute.
Finally, the clip ended.
There were still a lot of other videos that Jap posted pranking Gene, all of which stopped me from becoming bored. I saved all of them to my phone and computer. In the end, when more and more accumulated, I created a whole separate folder.
That night when I fell asleep, my brain was filled with pictures of the boy next door, who I hadn’t seen in years.
Another morning, days later, I woke up frowning, and I had to gently breathe out. I’d dreamt of P’Gene again. Since seeing that picture that night, there hadn’t been a day where I could go without seeing his face.
I knew Gene’s Facebook. But he didn’t update much, except to change his avatar or cover photo. But Jap’s Facebook page had tons of pictures of Gene. So I was still able to look at Gene’s pictures and progress in life everyday, like some kind of psychopath.
Even when I closed my eyes to sleep sometimes, I still saw his pictures.
I didn’t want to be this way, but I couldn’t control my subconscious.
I always saw Gene lying in my wide bed. He would smile at me, his cheeks soft and reddish. His hands would hold on to me, and his mouth would gently say, “Sib.”
It was a fantasy that any teenage boy would have. But it wasn’t a woman. Instead, it was the boy next door, who always loved and saw me as a brother.
I circled back to look at his pictures every day. In the end, the feeling accumulated like a huge mountain of snow.
I want to meet him in real life.
I want to hug him.
I want to smell him.
I want to kiss his mouth. I want to do to him what I do in my dreams.
Since the day I saw his picture and until today, my thoughts and feelings had become more and more intense. So intense, that sometimes I was afraid of myself.
I’d already decided how I’d deal with this.
“Will you finish school here?” Neung had packed all his bags and was ready to go because he finished his studies. I leaned against the door frame, looking into his room.
“Actually, it’s nice here too, you know.”
"No, I'm going home."
“So you’ve changed your mind then?”
I nodded.
“Well, our house is nice and of course, our parents miss you too.”
"…"
"I'm not going to be here anymore, don't bring any women into the house...but you're not dating any girls lately. So it's fine."
I sent off my brother, who took a taxi straight to the airport to go back home to Thailand. Personally, I still had a year to complete my studies.
In the past, I had never thought or worried about how fast or slow time would pass. But now, I felt jealous of my brother.
Back at the house, I picked up the phone. I was still for a while. Maybe it was because Neung had returned to Thailand, but I felt like chasing pictures wasn’t enough anymore. My fingers moved before I could decide to send a message to someone.
Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: P'Jap.
Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: Do you remember me?
I wanted to talk to someone who could tell me everything about P’Gene.
I wanted to learn everything about him.
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Fight your demons
Requested: “what if the reader slipped in and out of what happened and what’s not. Like, switch Crosshair out with the reader, after they get their chip removed, she’s just really scared about hurting the Batch and especially Omega, maybe she just has a mental breakdown and then that’s when everyone notices how much you’ve lost yourself. I’ve also noticed you have more Crosshair lovers than the other, so go ahead and do Crosshair. Soft! Please🥰”
Oh man, that definitely hits the feels
———
You ran, ran far, Gerreras soldiers weren’t cut off, and they sure went going to get back to him. “Commander. We caught a few of Gerreras men, six to be exact” you stopped, making the other Elites as well. You held a fist up, “Fall back, we’ve got what we need” “but the orders were to eliminate all of Gerreras troops” the guy who thought of himself higher than the group spoke up, throwing an attitude already, the others looked at him. They knew he said something, “oh?” You turned, facing him, “I’m the commander here, you take orders from me. And I say we fall back, let those two go, they’ll tell Gerrera we’re here. He’ll send out more of his soldiers. Then we’ll strike, got it?” You explained, walking closer as he backed off, “yes, commander” he nodded, standing straight again as you took off towards the Regs who had the hostages.
They weren’t far, but that didn’t mean you could walk. By the time you got there, there was eight of them, “we caught two sneaking around” you hummed, walking up to the soldiers, “let’s make this easy and short. Where’s Gerrera?” “like we’ll tell you” one of the guys spat, “oh I’ll make you, starting with her” you pointed at one of the ladies, the Elite grabbed her. Forcing her to her knees. “Talk” the soldiers looked at her worryingly, “don’t! Tell her, I’ll be fine” the woman spoke, “let her go” “talk and then maybe I will” they all glared at you, the Elites stood behind them, just in case they got any ideas. They seemed to talk to each other, you watched as they exchanged words between them “We lay our life down for Gerrera, we’re not telling you anything” their heads held up high with pride.
“Fine, kill her” the Elite that was holding her, shot her, making Gerreras squad yell and try to break free. “Last chance, all of you” you warned, wasting time on people who weren’t worth it. “Didn’t you hear the first time? Or can’t you get anything through that helmet of yours? We’re not saying anything.” The supposed leader spoke for them all. You leaned over to the ‘executioner’ as he always did as told. “Kill them all, leave the one at the end alive” you said, he gave a swift nod. Telling the others as the guy at the end flinched as his teammates fell, the sound of leaves crunched under your boots as you walked up to him. Kneeling down to meet his eye level, “you’re chosen for a reason, now, I promise not to hurt you if you tell me, where Gerrera is” he shook, looking at you. “He left, but his caravan..” he finally spoke. “Uh huh” “they’re the vulnerable ones, down the road, just before you caught us” you stood up, walking away, “thank you for your cooperation, your no longer needed” you shot him, making the troopers around look at you.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt him if he told you the truth!” The woman slightly raised her voice at you, “and he’s lying, we have scanners all over this planet, more than one. If someone was disobeying orders to help Gerrera, we would still have others to tell us if a ship has left or not. And they’re has been no word on that, however. The caravans most likely here, I’d say far off considering we have troops a few clicks out and we would have found them by now. We have no use of a liar with us” they listened, you were right. If someone did betray the Empire, then there were still others loyal, and they would immediately alert you. They watched as you walked off, coming to your side again. “Find them” you told others as they got into squads and set out.
The caravan wasn’t hard to find either, it seemed like they didn’t know that you were there. Now you watched as they quivered by their ship, holding each other. One of the Elites spoke against your orders, “we signed up to be soldiers, not an execution squad” he spoke, the others unsure if they should follow the man, “you know why they put me in charge?” You asked, he turned to face you, the other Elites stepping back, knowing he was done for “it’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done” you shot him as the others backed up again, looking at you. “Good soldiers follow orders, finish the mission” you told the others as they walked closer to the civilians. You watched as they complied with your orders, feeling a bit of pride grow for your squad since they almost stopped questioning your ways.
—
You woke up, gasping as tears had already made their way down your face in your sleep. The image played like it was moments ago, but it seemed like forever, you touched the side of your head. The feeling of the small scar there told you that the chip wasn’t there anymore. You felt like you were trying to breath, your eyes watered again. As you heard Hunter run in while a sleepy Omega jogging after him, her eyes widen as she seen you. “Y/n, Y/n are you ok? What’s wrong?” Hunter came to kneel at the edge of your bed, his hand touched your arms as you pulled away, “don’t...” pulling away from his grasp. “Y/n?” Omega called out, walking towards you, her hands held out to grab yours. “I said don’t, go away” Omega looked at Hunter worryingly, he nodded to her, she walked out feeling sad. “Y/n, what happened, is everything alright?” Hunter asked, his voice gentle as to not make you anymore upset. “I.. I don’t want to talk about it” you held your knees up to your chest as you spoke through your arms. He understood, standing up and walking out the door “I’ll be here if you need me” he said before leaving.
You wiped your tears with the end of your blanket, regaining your breath as you calmed yourself. “Problem?” Crosshair asked, leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed, he was the only person you didn’t want to show tears around, considering he was more intimidating than Wrecker and Echo. “No” you answered shortly, sitting there as the thought of innocent people were gone. “I know you’re lying,” he spoke, coming to sit at the end of your bed, “I’m listening” he said it like he does it all the time. I mean, he did, he mostly listened to Tech rant about things he didn’t understand. And he liked listening to him, he didn’t mind at all. You didn’t answer, but he seen as you came to touch your head again. Oh, he knew now.
“You’re worried?” He questioned, hoping to at least get a short answer from you. He didn’t sound upset or moody like he usually was, you scoffed, “more like scared... and worried. I pushed Omega and Hunter away- but I was just so.. scared I’d hurt her. I remember it like it was just today, those innocent people” he was surprised at how easily you pried open. “Those children, just like Omega. They died at my hands, I did it without hesitation. I knew what I was doing yet, I didn’t. It felt like I couldn’t control myself. It seemed right, but now, now it’s wrong” did being under the influence of the chip take that much of a toll on you? Was it like that for all clones? He nodded, “I didn’t mean it, it just..” tears fell as you cried, “it hurts to even think I did that. I would never have done that” you wiped them away, Crosshair felt like he needed to do something.. anything.
“It’s not your fault. It’s the chip” he spoke, trying to reassure you. “And that chip, ugh it still feels like its there and” you cut off as you rubbed the scar. “I just want to be my old self again, one who wasn’t being used by everyone to get what they didn’t want to do, done. I hated it, I hated every second of staying with those Elites, and having to see Rampart almost all the time when I reported back to Kamino” it sounded awful, it must have been too. “I just wish I could forget about it” you confessed, finally feeling like you were able to breath after getting that all off of your chest. And he didn’t judge, he didn’t say anything rude like he always did. You silently cried to yourself, Crosshair didn’t say anything for awhile. You felt like you made him uncomfortable, “sorry, I just..” you apologized, wiping your tears away as embarrassment replaced your self pity.
He didn’t know what to say, it sounded like nothing could be done to help you. So he did the one thing he could think of, he turned and pulled you into his arms. Unsure if he was hugging too soft or too tight, he didn’t even know if hugging too soft was a thing. “Cross, you don’t have too” “shh, just.. relax” you smiled weakly at his attempt to sooth you, and you did relax. His warm embrace felt comforting, something you’ve never felt before. Maybe it was because you’ve never been held or hugged, or maybe because you just tried and needed someone to listen after all you’ve been through. He stayed like that for a long time, he felt the occasional hiccup of you trying not to cry again, he moved away, and so did you. You watched as he stood up, then came to lay down. He pulled the covers over him as he made you lay down. He wrapped his arms around you, but what if this was too far for him?
You laid there, still, not wanting to step over his boundaries. You grew tired, finally putting a hand on his side, making him tense up, but soon relax under your touch. He gently squeezed you, making you slowly come closer until you were holding onto him. “Cross?” You asked, whispering to him while facing his chest. “Hmm?” He was curious to know what you had in mind again, “tell.. tell me this is real?” You hesitantly spoke, grabbing his shirt and holding as much as you could of him in your grasp. “It is.. why?” He waited for your answer, “I’ve had dreams like this, when I was back on Kamino with the Empire. Where one of you held me, mostly you. I missed you guys terribly, then I realized it was always a dream” his cheeks grew warm and his heart broke at the thought of you missing them.
They didn’t mean to leave you all the time, but they had too. “You’re back with us now, don’t worry” he said, tangling his legs with yours and holding you closer. The sound of his heartbeat was new, you actually felt it, and his breathing was something to add onto. It matched yours, or did yours match his? It got late, and you still couldn’t sleep, what if your chip instincts came into play without you even knowing, and then you hurt one of them. Crosshair seemed to be sleeping, but you weren’t sure as you kept tossing and turning every minute, “Y/n, what is it now?” He asked, finding you far away from him when the side you were sleeping on was empty. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you... sorry” “there’s no need to apologize, come on” he pulled your arm, making you lay beside him again.
It felt a little better, but not enough to make you sleep. He took note of it, “it’s not there anymore if you’re wondering” he knew you were worried about to chip, so his hand came up to softly rub your temple with a feather like touch. It seems to make you sleep, considering you weren’t moving and your heartbeat slowed to a gentle pace, and your breathing was shallow. Was this all it took to make you sleep? His question was answered as you snuggled into him again, it may have been new to him too. But he had already loved this new found form of touch and reassurance. He only wished he could take away your darkest memories and never have you think of them again, but if this helped you sleep at night knowing someone was finally there, then he would be there every night to fight your demons.
———
Wow. I like this one, although... lemme know if you clones want it softer cause I feel like it’s not soft enough...
#crosshair#crosshair the bad batch#the bad batch#star wars tcw#star wars#Crosshair x reader#Crosshair x y/n#Crosshair x you#Hunter#omega#tbb#oneshot#requested
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