#//THIS PROMPT DID NOT HAVE TO PICK FUCKING VIOLENCE AND YET HERE WE ARE

[paleontaxi]

Someone asks Jarod to describe his family. How does he answer?

"My dad died a couple years before Lola was born, so he never got to meet her, which is a real shame 'cause she woulda liked him a lot. He was a good dad. Funny, one of the driest sense of humors I've seen on anybody. But his eyes would get a certain way when he told jokes, and I think that'd send me into fits more than the joke itself.

"He taught me how to catch by telling me to get my mitt up and then chucking the ball at me as hard as he could." Jarod chuckles. "I've had people tell me that's 'horrible,' but I don't think it messed me up any, and it goddamn worked! So, I can't fault him for it.

"He had dreams that I would be a doctor, told me I was too smart to not go off to college. I think I disappointed him by not doing it, but then I started my own business, and he seemed proud of that. So, all's well that ends well.

"Not a day goes by when I don't wish I had a little more time with him."

A smile spreads across his face. "My mother was an interesting case. Lola never believed any of the stories I told about her grandma. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that this wonderful, happy-go-lucky, endlessly patient woman once had a temper like no other, which I think is where I get mine. Can't hold it against her, though; she always had a good reason for it. And it's not like she hit me or anything, just rightfully yelled at me for being a fucking moron when I screwed up.

"And she couldn't cook for shit. Every Friday, she'd get takeout, and she'd dress it up on the table like she made it herself. Dad 'n' I knew better, but we pretended not to.

"But for all of her rage and inedible meals she made me sit through, she was good. She helped me out a lot when Marian left me, with Lola, with my... feelings. I kept her up well past her bedtime a lot in those early years. I never doubted that she really loved me or that I could lean on her when I needed to.

"And like I said, she was great with Lola, sugar sweet. That girl could never do any wrong in her grandma's eyes. Mom spoiled her even worse than I did. I'd try to tell her she couldn't have something, and she'd flash those big green eyes at grandma, and then I'd turn around and she'd have the damn thing in her hands.

"She passed when Lola was about thirteen, and we both took it pretty hard, as I'm sure you can imagine. I didn't even have anybody to call at 2AM about it. She was that person, you know? Come to think of it, Lola started really acting out some months to a year after that, and I wonder if some part of it wasn't that... that was her way of dealing with it, by getting involved in something big and important. But I'll never know for sure."

"I wish she told me more, you know -- Lola. It was me and her for so long, and sometimes my mom, but mostly her and me." His voice breaks, and he shakes his head before pressing his hand over his eyes. "She was my best friend, my everything, my entire world. I tried so hard to make her see that -- I tried so hard."

He sucks in a breath and raises his head again, trying to blink away the tears that have gathered in the corners of his eyes. "She was so impassioned, so lively, not the kind of girl who runs off on a suicide mission. That wasn't Lola. She had clear goals and all of the smarts and drive and resources to achieve them. It doesn't make sense why she'd--" He cuts himself off to swallow the lump in his throat. "It doesn't fucking make sense. She had big ambitions, but not Brigade ambitions, not like that, it--" He looks down at the ground and pauses for anotehr moment, longer this time. "...I don't know."

"And now, I've got no one. I'm the only one left. Now, when I go, that's it -- bloodline over, no more of any of us. I'm not gonna have anyone to miss me like I miss them." With that final thought, he shatters and collapses into inconsolable sobbing.

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [3/...]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

"And I am the idiot with the painted face, in the corner taking up space. But when he walks in, I am loved."

— Mitski, "Me and My Husband"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, Buggy is a lonely asshole, flashbacks, semi-canon divergence, Reader is strong AF,

A/N: I forgot to mention this before, but I guess this technically does hold some spoilers from the manga/anime. Keep in mind, I've not seen/read either piece, so it's merely used to give their stories some background.

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or comment :))

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are you?

After some time of searching, Buggy finds you sitting by the docks, your feet gently swaying with the waves, almost free of any earthbound weight. He’d join you if he could, but he’s not brave enough to get too close to the waters yet.

However, he’s content enough to just watch you from a safe distance. The sky is free of clouds and the moon is full, which illuminates your shape like a bright lantern in the night.

Beautiful, that's what he thinks you are. In fact, that's what he's been thinking for a while now, not that he's ever told you that to your face. He wonders when he stopped looking at you like something more than a friend. 

Maybe it was when he caught you smiling at him after you'd successfully managed to steal a bottle of fine rum from the local bar, and you both ended up getting blackout drunk on the ship deck?

Maybe it was when he saw you win a round of arm-wrestling against one of your other crewmates, despite being significantly younger than the opponent.

Maybe it was when you beat a guy black and blue for making fun of his nose in public, with both him and Shanks cheering you on from a safe distance? 

It doesn’t matter when it was. What matters is that, for a while, he has found it difficult to take his eyes off you. Even if it’s just a peek, it usually takes him a while to force his attention on something else.

The rest of the crew are on the Oro Jackson, celebrating their recent endeavors, yet here you are, celebrating on your own. He finds it odd; you’re usually happy to participate in any celebrations with the crew, but you’ve decided to be here instead. It was your absence on deck that prompted Buggy to go looking for you.

The wind picks up and he can feel goosebumps spread across his skin like wildfire. He shivers and tugs his jacket tighter around himself, and that’s when he notices that you’re not wearing any additional clothing to stave off the cold in the night.

He finally calls out to you, a little throaty for reasons he refuses to disclose aloud. “You’re gonna get a cold like that, dumbass! You wanna get pneumonia and die or something?”

You subsequently turn around to face him, and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your sharp eyes, when caught in the moonlight, sparkle like a thousand treasures — compiled of gold, diamonds, and millions and millions of berries — holed up in two caves.

Smiling in the way that makes his pulse quicken, you proceed to wave your feet in the water. A few drops land on your arms, sparkling in the air before landing on the skin of your arms. “I don’t think so? If we get to the South Pole, maybe there’s a higher risk?”

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “The North Pole is colder!”

“Ah, well,” you snicker. “In that case, then I’m not likely to get pneumonia unless we’re there.”

“You can still get cold! What are you, a moron?” 

For someone who can’t keep his eyes off you for extended periods, that doesn’t keep him from being rather crass in terms of vocabulary with you. That’s alright. You’ve never been one to appreciate honeyed words if your frequent bickering with both him and Shanks says something.

With another swing of your legs, you reestablish contact with with wooden platform and make your way over to him. That’s when he finally realises that you haven’t brought your shoes with you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. “By the way, what’re you doing here, Buggy?“

He considers telling you a simple lie that won’t clash with what he knows to be the truth. He was coincidentally going for a walk, he needed some air, he was purposefully looking for you…

“Noticed you weren’t on the ship,” he finally settles on with a hmph. “Had to make sure you hadn’t accidentally up and drowned or something. You’re a shitty swimmer,”

“Not as shitty as you,” you counter and blow him a raspberry. 

He’s about to tell you to fuck off or something when, again, he finds himself pausing. 

You’re smiling at him, so softly, and it feels so warm that the wind no longer has any effect on him. He can feel his cheeks scorch up and his heart is pounding so hard that it feels on the verge of breaking his ribs.

He hastily looks away and coughs a couple of times, trying to maintain what little dignity he has left.

“Are you alright?” You ask with faux concern. “Did you just catch pneumonia or something?”

“S-Screw you!”

You laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. Your laughs are usually raspy and hardly appropriate, but he finds that it’s the prettiest sound in the world. Your smile, your laugh, they are so warm that he hopes that you’ll never stop making them.

Out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and begin tugging him on the path to the ship. “Come on, before they leave us behind.”

“Y-Yeah, let’s.” He doesn’t move to tug your arm away, and no power on this earth will make him.

------

Now that he's closer to the kid, Buggy realizes the stupidity of asking if he was yours. The two of you are nothing alike, but the truly defining factor lies in your eyes. Rubber Boy's eyes are too bright, too round. Whereas yours are knives ready to strike, his' are simple spoons.

He begrudgingly has to hand it to the kid; he's a fearless one. Even stretching his limbs beyond human capabilities does not diminish his spirit. Buggy doesn't know whether to applaud or reject the determination the boy has.

"I want you to think of this, like an artistic exercise," he explains. "Because pain leads to art, and art reveals truth."

He can't hear any commotion from the backrooms where he keeps you contained. Truth be told, he never expected it to keep you for long, only detain you for a limited amount of time. If he wants to both get the map and keep his life in one go, he is going to have to try and get it without necessarily ruining the kid too much.

Still, it doesn't keep him from testing the lines. He tries to pry the answers out with a needle, but no matter what he does, the kid remains infuriatingly mute. 

So, he decides to dig a little deeper.

"Now, what makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the Pirates? Who are you trying to impress?" He tilts his head with inquisitiveness. "A lost love?"

On cue, he can vaguely make out a gnarling sound coming from the back rooms. The sound of chains rattling, which he perceives as you probably moving in the enclosure. He thinks about sending someone to check on you and find out what you're up to, but he does not want the number of supporting casts to reduce.

"An absent parent?" He continues, ignoring the noises as he closes in on the boy. "Or was it someone that you worshipped? A false idol."

Try as he might, the boy fails to feign any indifference to him. A master of performance himself, Buggy knows when he's hit his target "That's it."

He yanks the dumb straw hat off his head, and the boy's protests against it further dig a nail into the coffin. "Give me back my hat!"

"I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this." Buggy's grip on the feeble thing drastically tightens as memories of the past resurface. "Red-Haired Shanks."

"You knew Shanks?"

"Ginger? Three scars, left eye?" Of course, how could he not know of the bastard? "We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. In fact," he glances at the boy from over his shoulder. "Your friend, Cross-Hairs over there, was with us at the time."

The kid blinks in confusion, clearly not aware of this little piece of information. "I knew she served with Shanks, but she never mentioned you."

In all honesty, it doesn't surprise him, yet he still perceives this as a slight against him from your side. The underlying hypocriticism in that doesn't evade his notice, but he elects not to address it. 

Buggy can feel the straws under his digits lightly crack beneath the pressure of his grip. "She did, but before then, it was the three of us. For a time, I even thought we were friends." His nail pierces a hole through the inside of the hat. "Until they betrayed me, like all the others. He wanted to keep me out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly!"

"They wouldn't do that," Rubber Boy is quick to protest, rather vehemently too as if Buggy just insulted his entire lineage. "You don't know her, and you don't know Shanks. Don't talk about them that way."

"I bet I know her far better than you do, Rubber Boy." He smirks and raises a knowing eyebrow at the kid. "Does she still snatch specifically red apples off vendors when you're in town? Does she still tend to store her knives in her boots when she thinks no one's looking?"

The kid doesn't have to answer. His silence is all the confirmation he needs, and it makes him feel victorious in some sense. 

"Let me ask you something else, then. How'd the famous Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates get stuck with a simple-minded nobody like you? What did you do that was so special that she decided to stick around until now?" 

The damn brat doesn't answer.

He presses on. "Apparently, she made a promise to someone, and though I have a sneaking suspicion as to whom, I don't want to jump the gun." He grasps harshly at the kid's face, no longer smiling. "You know, and if you tell me, I might be convinced to lessen the restraints."

The damn brat still doesn't fucking answer, and it vexes him greatly. Even so, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that the kid's silence can be substituted for an answer.

So, he finally asks the billion-berry question: 

"Was it Shanks?"

Rubber Boy does not answer. He doesn't fucking answer, and Buggy's patience snaps like a twig.

You would be willing to go through all of this trouble, to keep the kid safe and help him achieve his dream, just because you made a silly promise to what was once your mutual friend. You would give up your career as one of the most successful pirates in the modern age, just for that?

Just for him?

Deep down, he feels something carve at him. Carve at the boyish version of him he left behind the same day he left you. Would you have been just as loyal to him as you were to Shanks, if only he stayed?

He does not voice these thoughts aloud. Instead, he can't help but beam, because everything he's theorized up until this point has just been verified. It aches, and it hurts, and it cuts, but even so, he can only smile down at the boy.

"Stretch him until he breaks." 

------

Although you hear a commotion coming from the stage room, and despite the urge you have to just break out and be done with this all, you deliberately remain in your cage. One leg pulled up to your chin whereas the other one rests uncomfortably on the stale ground boards, you do nothing more than let your temper simmer down.

Honestly, what a mess.

You made one thing perfectly clear to Shanks the day you agreed to disband your crew and keep watch on the boy. It had not even been a week after he returned to the docks of Fooshia Village, one arm short and the boy by his side.

------

"I am not his parent. I will not be held responsible for the mistakes he makes when he decided to leave land. I will only keep him alive until I decide he can do that himself; after he's earned his first bounty. After that, I'm off."

"And what will you do after?" he had asked, genuinely curious.

You didn't answer, because you didn't know.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream." He had taken your shoulder under his warm remaining hand and said:

"Maybe one day, you'll find your own."

------

If you'd known that Luffy's dream would one day lead you back to him, you would've been more reluctant to make that promise. At the time, you had little interest in picking up the shattered pieces of your childhood dream, yet it seems that now it has decided to search you out instead.

Or rather, he has.

Your head hurts.

This is not the time for heartfelt reunions if there ever was one. Buggy has only one goal in mind, and that is to get his hands on that damn map. Harming Luffy will serve as a means to an end in achieving that, which happens to clash with your goal. You're not Luffy's parent, you tell yourself, but you're willing to extend the promise to Shanks just this once.

And so, after some careful deliberation, you make your escape. 

You hit the metal once, and it bends significantly. Then twice, and on the third strikes, they bend and crack, finally granting you access to direct contact with the ground. It's never felt so relieving to be earthbound, and you even go as far as to tap your feet a few times to enrich that feeling.

Having most likely heard the noise, two troupe members march through the curtains to see what's going on. The first one barely has the time to register your escape before you lunge. 

You're quick to subdue them, knocking the first one out with an easy choke-hold whereas the other mysteriously ends up with half his body stuck in what remains of your previous confinement. His ass hangs out in a rather humiliating position, but the point is, he's out of the way. 

The adrenaline is the one part of piracy you've missed. The surge of energy that flows through your veins, feeling the air brush your face as you make your move, the warmth in your heart that substitutes any pain or hurt you've ever felt if only for a moment.

You relish it.

You happen to find your weapons in the room, hidden in some crates. Your knives and your pistol, are both unscathed and fully functional, but you know that you'll end up relying on your hands for this. After all, it's personal, and personal matters are handled in a personal way. 

When you're certain the two troupe members are of no concern to you, you exit the back rooms and find yourself in the opening between the audience rows shortly after. The lights have been killed and there's an ominous silence stretching in the atmosphere.

You look up at the terrified audience, and though you're almost in clear view of them, none dares stray away from the view up ahead. 

Said view in question being of Luffy halfway submerged by seawater in a tank, already struggling to keep himself afloat. 

Fuck this. Fuck him.

You don't even stop to coordinate your next move as, as you would've done under ordinary circumstances. No, the moment you spot Buggy standing there, trying to reason with the kid with the promise of belonging and having a place on his crew, you lunge for the kill.

------

All Buggy sees just as you make your move is a flash of sharp eyes that seem to glow in the dim room. There's no word upon your entrance, no sound, not a single warning at all. A shriek resonates through the air, shattering the silence that had unknowingly settled over them, and it's his own. 

The air gets knocked out of his lungs as you shove your fist straight into his stomach. Ordinarily, that specific portion of his would've just straight up dislodged itself from his body, but it doesn't this time. He remains intact, a contradiction to what you had threatened to do, and he falls back several good feet on his back like a kicked dog.

A raspy groan is all the noise he manages to get out, heaving his chest in search of the air that was stolen from him. He throws one arm to the ground and gets his upper body up. 

When he finally manages to somewhat stabilize his line of sight, all he sees as the world remains blurred around him is you standing over him with a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. One he's already familiar with.

This is not his old friend or his old flame crew member. This is Cross-Hairs, the feared captain of the vicious Cross-Haired Pirates. The Beast of the East. The one whose aim never misses, and if it does, she'll hunt her target down to the ends of the earth.

And now, he's officially become your target. No longer a passive one at that, but the only one your eyes are set on. He doesn't know if he's content or unnerved by this.

There are no palpable emotions on your face, but he can read your eyes well enough to know that you're angry. No, angry doesn't even begin to cover it; you're absolutely, positively, completely pissed. 

"What?" He forces out, still aching from the punch to his abdomen. "Going to make good on your promise? Going to finally kill me after all this time? If so, then just get on with it!"

You don't answer, and he hates it even more than he would've had you responded. A part of him wants you to kill him; wants you to show that you care enough about him to just fucking do it.

No, instead, all you give him is a glare. That same glare that's never left your face since he first laid his eyes on you. You turn your full attention to the tank and, with one simple hit, you break the glass to try and free Rubber Boy. You free him, without even a moment to hesitate, and it feels so much more painful than if you’d just ended him on the spot.

He wants to scream. Buggy wants to scream until his lungs give in. Scream at your inability to fully look at him. Scream at your apparent concern for a boy who is no more a pirate than he is a banker. 

Scream, because even after all this time, you still refuse to choose him.

Never him.

[violetjedisylveon]

Amnesia Chapter 17 - Preparing For Trouble

Bad batch Omega centric au

Summary: On her way home, Freyu has two strange encounters, well one strange encounter and one very annoying one.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 🚫threats of violence and poisoning, nudity*🚫

A/N: *two characters are showering together, I didn't describe anything but they are naked. Just figured I'd say that.

Amnesia AU Masterpost

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Thanks again Miss O'asisk!” The youngling yelled as Freyu left.

“Take care!” She shouted back.

She waved the youngling goodbye then began walking back to where she had left Asichi, ready to go home after a long day of deliveries.

She'd had a relatively peaceful week, Omega still hadn't wanted to join the more frequent trips to Mlikix after the fright they had, and her little sister was being extra mindful about keeping her secret. Freyu wouldn't make Omega do anything she didn't want to anyway.

She hadn't been bothered by those bounty hunters since her threat nearly two weeks ago. They were still around, Cai’s spies reported seeing them in town, but they weren't messing with her or Omega and as long as that continued, she couldn't give a fuck about what they did.

Asichi whinnied as she approached, the mare trotted in place excitedly. Boa, sleeping on her back, whined at the disturbance of her nap.

“Did you have a good day, Asichi?” She asked, petting Asichi's velvety soft muzzle.

The mare neighed, stomping her feet impatiently, she was ready to go home.

“Alright, alright, I get it, it's been a long day. Let me just pack up then we can head home.” She said.

She took off her backpack, setting it on the hitching post so she could disassemble it into its much easier to carry parts. With the main bag being fully empty, aside from a few spare miscalculated orders, it was easy to fold up and fit behind the saddle.

She set the spare orders aside, only nine this time, so she could put them in a much smaller bag, and started folding the main bag.

Behind you

Boa growled right as she got the warning. She glanced over her shoulder to see the creepy Imperial doctor from the capital standing behind the post, inspecting one of the misplaced orders. He smiled and set the medicine down.

“Miss O'asisk, I am Doctor Hemlock.” He greeted her.

She glanced around for any troopers, it looked like the doctor was here alone.

“Uh… hi? Do you need something?” She asked.

“No, I only wish to speak with you about your work, one doctor to another.” He said.

Freyu narrowed her eyes. Those weren't his true intentions, her instincts said not to trust him, but he wasn't a threat yet.

“Yeah… I don't think we're the same type of doctor…” she pointed out.

He didn't address that and picked up another vile of medicine.

“You make these yourself?” He asked.

“Yes, lots of plants here have some sort of healing properties, I find what conditions and combinations will bring out the most potent effect. It's a lot of chemistry.” She said.

“Did someone teach you?” He questioned.

“My Buir did, it's one of our family trades, and my mother knew some other stuff, and some of it I've figured out myself.” She nodded.

“And I suppose you can use it to make toxins?” He prompted.

“If I answer that, am I going to get arrested?” She asked with a frown.

“Not by me, I'm just curious how someone so young has such a robust understanding of such a complicated subject.” He said easily.

“Okay… yeah… that's believable.” She said sarcastically.

“You're a very cautious person, aren't you, Miss O’asisk.” Hemlock said, eyeing the right side of her face.

She glanced at his gloved hand and smirked.

“I would assume the same about you.” She said.

His face shifted slightly, the corners of his mouth twitched down in an aborted frown.

“So, why are you so interested in what I'm doing?” She asked.

“I'm interested in offering you a position as one of the Empire's researchers.” Hemlock said like it was the most casual thing.

Freyu stared at the human for a solid minute before she could formulate a response.

“Excuse me?!? Why are you- why is the Empire- offering me a job?! Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I don't seem like the type of person the Empire wants to employ.” She exclaimed with a gesture towards herself.

“You would be hired under my branch of the Empire’s scientific departments. I don't care for the typical hiring policies, I'm much more interested in skill than species.” He explained.

“My department also does work with animals, and you seem to be quite skilled in that area as well.” He said.

“Hmm, how'd you know?” She asked dryly.

He pointedly glanced at Iri perched on her head.

“Just a hunch.”

“Are you doing experiments on animals? I think it's quite obvious that I wouldn't be okay with that.” She pointed out.

“Mostly work with rare, endangered species, preserving and diversifying their genetics to create a healthier population.” He explained.

Now that doesn't seem like something the Empire would do. She thought.

“How familiar with genetics are you?” The doctor asked.

“Enough to get by in my line of work.” She answered, feeling ever more skeptical of this “doctor”.

Iri chirped to her, giving her a silent warning that she needed to get out soon.

“While I do appreciate the offer, I've got a bit too much going on right now and I need to get back home, but I'll think about it.” She told him.

“Very well, the offer will remain until you refuse it.” Hemlock said.

“Thanks…”

He smiled a smile that sent shivers down her spine, turned and left.

She waited for the doctor to be out of sight before quickly finishing her pack up. She mounted Asichi, patting the agitated mare’s neck to sooth her.

“It'll be fine, Asichi. I'm sure it's nothing.” She reassured her.

“Let's just get home.” She suggested.

Asichi whinnied in agreement.

XXX

Freyu knew she was being followed.

She knew since she left Mlikix, accordingly she took a misleading way to get home.

Those idiot bounty hunters were very bad at their jobs.

Asichi neighed again. The mare was growing increasingly agitated as the stalking continued.

They were nearby, all four of them this time.

She stopped Asichi, sitting back in the saddle before lazily glancing over her shoulder at the seemingly empty grass behind her.

“Are you done yet?” She asked.

Iri swooped on them, forcing them to reveal their positions to avoid being attacked by the bird. Asichi turned to face them, bellowing threateningly.

Freyu found it mildly funny that Asichi was much taller than all of them, at the shoulder.

“You are extremely shitty at this.” She commented to the group of hunters.

“Seriously, I'm starting to get pissed off, and while I could just kill you, believe me she would love to,” she patted Asichi's neck, “I don't wanna deal with the bodies or the legal process today.”

She really didn't want to kill someone today, it was way too much paperwork and she would be late getting home if she did. Omega was worried enough as it is.

And when it came to these four, she had a strange feeling in the back of her head telling her not to kill them. It was as annoying as it was vague.

“Legal process?” The shortest and most irritating one echoed.

“Oh yeah, laws here are different for locals than outsiders. See, I'm legally allowed to kill an outsider if they are threatening me, usually you don't need justification, but I have been documenting your behavior in case I need it.” She said.

“As if someone like you could actually kill all four of us.” The big guy laughed.

She shot him a glare. He was the least guarded of all them, probably because he put so much focus on beating everything physically that he never even thought of mental threats.

A perfect target to psych out. She gave his mind a very subtle suggestion of fear as she spoke.

“I am on a horned horse that's taller than all of you, I have several blasters on me, and toxins. I could kill you all multiple times over.”

Freyu couldn't hide her smug grin when the big, fearsome armored hunter stumbled back a few steps out of fear.

“Steady yourself soldier!” Shortie barked.

She took the opportunity to get him with a dart when his back was turned. The hunters instantly went on edge, except Shortie, he was quickly succumbing to the effects of her toxin.

The man was on his knees gasping in seconds.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” The droid shouted.

“Oh relax, it's not a fatal poison,” she glared down at the main, aiming her rifle in his general direction, enough to give the message of not fucking with her, “this time.”

The droid man was clearly the smartest out of all of them, he signaled for his buddies to stand down and protect their fallen member.

“This is your final warning, leave me and my sister alone.” She growled.

Asichi bellowed out her own warning, gnashing her teeth, and they were off.

Freyu made sure to take the most complicated way back home, just in case those hunters really were stupid enough to follow her.

XXX

Omega waited for the security system to confirm it was Freyu entering before she came out of her makeshift hiding spot. Her ori'vod was peering out the window with a pinched expression.

“Freyu?” She called out.

The Pantoran briefly glanced at her, her frown deepening.

“Is something wrong?” Omega asked.

The seed of worry in her stomach growing the longer her ori'vod stayed quiet.

“I had a few strange encounters today.” Freyu muttered.

“Is everything going to be okay?” she asked.

Freyu didn't answer.

“Freyu?”

The Pantoran didn't even look at her.

Her worry turned into panic. Tiny tears stung her eyes.

“Freyu?!” she shouted, voice cracking.

That got her sister to pay attention to her. Her face smoothed out as she calmly faced her.

“Alright Meg'ika, I think it's time for your first escape drill.” she said like it was the most normal thing ever.

“Escape drill? Why do I need an escape drill?!” Omega shouted, stepping away from the door.

“It's a necessity, our family is… well known… by certain groups and sometimes there is trouble. I’ve been practicing this since I was three. It'll be fine.” Freyu explained calmly.

Omega stared at her. She was worried when she came in, something was going on, there was trouble.

“There's something happening, isn't there?” She asked.

“I'd rather be safe than sorry.” Freyu said evenly.

Omega frowned, she didn't answer the question directly.

“What is it?” She insisted.

“Those bounty hunters. They haven't gotten the message yet.” Freyu answered.

They're coming for me.

“Are we going to be okay?” she asked timidly.

Freyu crossed the room, kneeling down to her level, cupping her face in her always warm hands.

“Of course, I'm going to keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you.” Freyu promised.

Omega held Freyu's hands to her face so she couldn't pull away. I trust her, it'll be okay.

“How does the escape drill work?” She asked.

Her ori'vod gave her a strained grin.

“You're not claustrophobic, are you?”

“What?”

Freyu took her down to the basement where they did their training and Tesi had her main charging station, the droid in question woke up as they entered.

“Tesi, I think we need to clear the premise.” Freyu said to the droid.

“I assume you want a tunnel?” Tesi prompted.

“Yes, forest treehouse, you know the one.” Freyu answered.

Why are they talking so vaguely? Omega wondered.

Tesi scomped in to a hidden port, a patch of the floor shifted away, revealing a hatch that twisted itself open. Peering into it, she saw a ladder on one end of the hole and a sort of strap-in seat on the other. The hole went down deep, but was well light.

“My family has a series of secret passages running from pretty much every building they've ever worked with, the ones in the houses are the most extensive and well taken care of.” Freyu explained.

“Why do you have all these?” Omega asked, shooting her a quizzical glance.

“We’re cautious people, Meg'ika.” Freyu shrugged.

“I'll strap you in, it'll take you down and drop you into the cart, you can also walk through them but it'll take a lot longer and I want you at the safe house as fast as possible.” She instructed.

“Okay…” Omega nodded uncertainly.

Freyu frowned, biting her lip as she thought.

“Tesi, do we still have the star bugs?” She asked.

The droid was busy getting something from a hidden hatch in the far wall. Whatever it was, Omega couldn't fully see it.

“Yes, we've got two left, they should be satisfactory once I reboot them.” Tesi answered.

“The star bugs will help you, just follow their directions.” Freyu said.

“O-okay…” Omega said.

“Good.” Her ori'vod smiled at her, patting her head gently.

“Everything will be alright, I know it will.” She insisted.

Doubt plagued her mind. How could Freyu believe everything would be okay so confidently? There was danger coming for them and she was too calm!

“How do you know that?!” She exclaimed.

“It's just a feeling I have. And I trust that feeling.” Freyu said, brushing her loose hair back.

That doesn't make any sense! Omega thought, a gut feeling couldn't get them very far.

“How can you trust a feeling?” she asked in dismay.

Freyu cupped her face.

“A similar feeling led me to you. So it'll be alright.” she kissed the top of her forehead.

Omega lurched forward, wrapping her arms tight around her sister. She was unable to shake the fear that this was the last time she'd ever see her. Freyu waited a moment then pulled her back and wiped her tears away.

Tesi came up to them, the droid held a strange pair of balls out to Freyu. The Pantoran took them and whispered something in Mando'a or Pantoran.

The little balls came to life, uncurling into cute little bug-like droids. They buzzed around Freyu's head, chittering excitedly in binary.

“This is Omega, she's my sister, I need you to escort her to the tree safe house.” Freyu instructed the pair of droids.

They beeped back at her, fluttering over to land on her head. They were surprisingly fuzzy for droids.

“Her bag.” Tesi handed a backpack to Freyu.

“This has everything you might need in it, a med kit, food, survival equipment, a pair of blaster pistols and enough ammo to reload if you need to. You remember your shooting lesson, right?” she explained.

Omega nodded.

“Excellent.”

Freyu set her down onto the chair, fastening her in securely. She handed her the backpack, Omega saw her Tooka doll tucked into one of the pockets, she held onto the bag like a lifeline.

“Hey, everything is going to be fine.” Freyu assured her.

She didn't believe it, she couldn't let herself believe it, she had a horrible feeling that she would be alone again if she did.

“I won't leave you Omega, we're stuck with each other forever now, remember?” Freyu reminded her.

“Yeah. I remember.” Omega sniffled.

Freyu hugged her one last time, then the machine started taking her down. Omega kept her eyes fixed on the spot of light above her as she descended into the darkness.

Freyu watched her vod'ika until the star bug lights were swallowed by the darkness. She shut the hatch, locked it and locked down all the tunnels except the one Omega was using, just to be safe. She sat back with a heavy sigh. She always had a feeling letting Omega into her home would bring trouble, even before she noticed how fast the little girl healed.

“Do you want me to do a full clear of the premises?” Tesi asked.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” She said.

“You say that so often you should live by it.” Tesi snipped.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

Her gaze fell on her armor chest. The chest and its extra contents need to be moved, likely to the ship. She needed to put her armor on.

“I'm going to change!” She called to Tesi, receiving a beep of affirmation.

She exchanged the flexible armor plate she always wore to protect her vital organs for a fresh one, then changed her clothes into something appropriate and pulled the top half of her kute on. She got the pants on and made sure the pieces fit together and overlapped correctly.

With practiced speed, she changed into her armor. The feeling of the overlapping plates on her body gave her a slight sense of security.

Buir made this armor, it would protect her.

Now all she has to do was wait for the right moment to strike.

XXX 

Chora ignored the insistent nudging on the edge of her senses. The planet was trying to push her towards the one place she was not welcomed.

It had been since she got here.

Honestly it was getting annoying.

Window

Without looking away from her data pad, she opened the window long enough for the fuzzy droid to come buzzing in, swiftly shutting it.

The little bug droid landed on her shoulder, cuddling up to her while buzzing happily.

“Let's see what you got.” Chora said, giving the bug an affectionate pat.

The bug-like droid connected to her data pad, feeding its surveillance into the system. She tapped her leg impatiently as it loaded.

She'd been on the planet for a little over two months at this point, she wasn't really doing her job as a bounty hunter and was more so dealing with the Massii when the Empire didn't want to.

It wasn't what she signed up for but at least she was getting paid.

Still, she was used to being constantly on the move, hunting down targets across the galaxy. She didn't usually stay in one place this long, if she did, it was a vacation or Yaosney forcing her to stay out so she could heal.

She was itching to get moving again.

So she'd sent out her surveillance to check out the one part of the planet she was avoiding like a plague.

Mlikix.

Just to see if there was anything she could do to get things going again. She wanted off this pushy planet.

She absently skimmed through the feed, waiting for something to catch her interest, or for the droid to get curious enough to disregard her orders and go where she said not to.

“Cyare… are you still up?” Yaosney asked, sitting up from their bed to turn on a bedside light.

“Just some late night work, I'll be in bed soon.” Chora promised, turning to her partner.

She blinked sleepily, having only gotten back two hours earlier, collapsing onto bed without getting a shower first. It was a bad habit they shared.

“How about you get a quick shower and change into something clean?” Chora suggested.

Yaosney frowned, tapping her chin in thought.

“Only if you join me.” She said.

Chora rolled her eyes.

“You need to clean that kute, you've been wearing it for days.” Yaosney pointed out.

She had been living and sleeping in her kute and armor for roughly the past two weeks.

“Alright you win, I'll join you.” Chora sighed dramatically, getting up and walking over to her.

Yaosney grinned smugly at her.

“But, I'm going to do the laundry afterwards.” Chora stipulated.

“Fine, but you leave cleaning your armor for the morning.” Yaosney said.

“I think I'd rather do it now.” Chora teased lightly, helping her partner out of bed and into their bathroom.

“Chora! You gotta sleep sometime today!” Yaosney whined, leaning her tired body on her.

“I'm a Pantoran, I don't need nearly as much sleep as you do.” Chora reminded her.

“Bet that sucks.” Yaosney huffed sleepily.

“No, having to be unconscious for a third of the standard day to remain functional sucks, I need half of that.” Chora said as she took off her armor, placing it onto her armor stand so she could clean it tomorrow.

Water hissed as the shower started, glancing back, Yaosney had already stripped the dark body suit she wore on duty and stepped into the shower. Chora changed quickly and got in with her.

Yaosney was busy washing her own body, scrubbing off the day's grit and grime from her skin. Chora lathered up her hands with Yaosney’s preferred shampoo, massaging it into the shorter woman's sweaty, grimy scalp.

“Those helmets do not help your hair.” She muttered as she scrubbed.

“Can't see shit through them either.” Yaosney grumbled in agreement.

Chora turned her girlfriend around, tipping her head back to wash out the shampoo, in turn, Yaosney started washing her body.

“You're so tall, it's not fair.” She pouted.

Chora glanced down at her, grinning.

“Why's it not fair?” She prompted.

“I have to stand on my toes to reach you right.” Yaosney puffed, indignantly looking up at her.

She stopped rinsing her girlfriend's hair, settling her hands on her hips.

“I can always just pick you up.” She suggested, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Not in the shower Chora, we'll fall, again!” Yaosney scolded.

Chora chuckled, letting go to finish rinsing her girlfriend's hair.

“You aren't even washing yourself, you're just washing me.” Yaosney grumbled.

“I’d let you, but you need a stool to reach.” She teased.

She was quick to finish washing Yaosney, then did a much faster wash of her own hair, Yaosney was practically asleep standing up. They got out, changed into fresh clothes, and Chora put their dirty clothes into the washing machine while Yaosney (very grumpily) went back to bed.

Her girlfriend was fast asleep by the time she came back to their bed. She kissed her forehead lightly before sitting down at her desk to finish her work.

“What've you got little guy?” She whispered to the little droid.

It buzzed quietly, pleased with what it had found.

“Huh, well whaddya know.” Chora hummed.

It was that group of clones that asshole sniper was obsessed with finding, they were hanging around Mlikix.

That's not good. Chora thought as she went through the images.

Two of the clones were messing with or being threatened by a way too fucking familiar Pantoran.

Ah. Of course. She groaned. This had to be some kind of joke. In the one place she was avoiding, messing with the one person she was avoiding was her way to get the Empire’s ass off this rock and let her get back to her proper work.

She dropped her head into her hands. She could almost hear her brother laughing at the irony, or her misfortune. Probably her misfortune, they weren't on the best terms before he died, he probably thought she deserved this.

He was right. She did. He was always right.

“Fuck me.” She muttered.

She had been trying to get out of here without touching that bomb.

Why are they messing with her? The intrusive little thought wormed its way into her head.

Those clones clearly wanted something, and she didn't look keen on giving it, cause she was a stubborn asshole when she wanted to be.

Nope! Shut it down! Chora scolded herself, she just needed to get off this planet before she had to get involved with her… acquaintance.

She could subcontract someone to give the situation a little nudge. Yeah, that was it.

It had to be someone cheap and inexperienced. She was sending that unfortunate soul into the Mythosaur’s liar, she just needed them to get those clones to reveal themselves, and if her old pal killed them afterwards, no harm done.

She quickly found who she was looking for and sent him the offer, it was more money than he'd ever been offered before so he immediately took it.

She gave her instructions and left the dominoes to fall.

She shut her data pad off, her droid buzzed up, nuzzling her cheek, then settled on it's charging station for the night. She quickly put the laundry into the dryer then climbed into bed with Yaosney.

She laid on her side, looking at her girlfriend's peaceful sleeping face.

Everything is going to be fine. She told herself, closing her eyes to sleep.

[booksandwords]

Killing Gravity by Corey J. White

Series: Voidwitch Saga, #1 Read time: 1 Day Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: I'm a spacewitch, I'm a goddess of death and destruction, and I start to laugh thinking of the look on Brigg's face. You think you know what you did to me? You don't know the half of it. — Mars

I picked up Killing Gravity on impulse at my local library while looking for a book to fit the adventure prompt for a reading challenge. I'm so glad I did. I personally found Mariam 'Mars' Xi to be a protagonist. She is angry, ruthless and powerful loyal while maintaining some traditionally feminine caring and empathetic characteristics. Honestly, I got strong Wu Zetian (Iron Widow) vibes at times. I found the plot to be an engaging and enjoyable ride. I wanted to know where it was going. I wanted to know what happened to these characters. The included violence and vengeance feels right. The universe Corey J. White has created for his characters is brutal. Especially the situations Mars came from.

The support cast is larger than I was expecting for a novella, it's not huge but there is diversity. It's queer and quirky and I adore it. Props to White for giving women the strength and control though. Because one of the other support characters, Trix, an amputee who we first meet in an exoskeleton and the Nova's main defender. The Nova is the ship that saves Mars from her critically damaged ship. The captain of that ship is so endearing to me. Squid is an enby but they feel like a bit of an anomaly. They are all soft power, meditation, near anti-gun and yet the captain, respected with ease by both Trix and Mookie. I get the feeling there is a terrifying spine to Squid we are yet to see. Mookie and Trix are poly or at least more than willing to share their bed. I can't really explain Mookie, he makes me smile. You'll get it if you read Killing Gravity. I really like computer AIs Waren and Einri. I looked up the name Einri, dual meanings Intelligent (from the Teutonic) and Rules the home (from the Irish). Can we acknowledge that Eirni is one of the best names for ship AI? Waren means Loyal (from the German). Given the arrangement Mars has with Waren that is important. Probably should mention Seven. Seven is Mars's pet (?), companion (?). From the descriptions, she kind of feels like part cat, part sugar glider. But she was a science experiment that Mars has had for most of her life. Loyal almost to a fault and but so, so adorable.

A random dump of thoughts and quotes.

I appreciate the explanation of the Wormhole physics. Fairly standard but it's nice to have a reminder now and then.

Mars talks to the reader, not breaking the fourth wall, she isn't aware she is fictional, but something close.

Ring One is where my people live. Well, not my people, but the closest thing I want to find: the freaks, the runaways, the perpetual wanderers, the organized crime, the genehackers, the bodychoppers, the digital-wannabes, the loose, the inebreated, the ones with the no common sense, no career and no desire for one, the fed up the fucked up and flamed out. The whole place is like a dangerous chemical concoction. You never know what might set off a reaction, and the threat of violence hangs in the air thick as the smell. — I just find this an appealing description of a group of people, the downtrodden and it definitely tells you whom Mars has lines herself with. That she is a survivor through and through, you don't get to consider these your people without that kind of survival trait. (Mars, p.37-8)

His chest is covered in tattoos—maroon and black ink, the tragically loyal fuck — You can almost hear the tone that belongs here. Okay, and I like the phrase tragically loyal fuck. (Mars, p.59)

"Smart-ass." "I thought Einri was sans personality." "No, just sans voice mod. I don't want some artificial voice construct convincing me Einri is a person. It's not a person, it's a ship. Without a voice mod it sounds like a ship I like things to be clear, you see?" — I find this quote interesting. I appreciate Squid's idea of delineation (because Einri really does have a personality). But that last line is kinda counter to part of their personality. They respected Mas' privacy and didn't push her to give answers. They have more sides than they admit. (Squid and Mars, p.70)

Euphemisms gain strength by hiding truth. Nothing is truth, nothing is reality, my mind contains multitudes, it contains universes, I contain multitudes. I am Mariam, I am Sera, I am every caretaker that ever had a hand in molding me, I am mold growing across every surface of Ergot. — I'm not sure why this appeals to me so much it's part of a whole section that has some really pretty phrasing that suits Mars' state at the time. (Mars, p.106)

[vivithefolle]

Honestly, I didn't think of Ron bashing in this context since these fics always portray him as a completely out of character type of mean.

I mean, fair, and I am very wary of anything that could be construed as bashing when it comes to Ron. But fandom has long been used to declaring Ron "a jerk", even while they praise him. The number of times I've had someone say "I love Ron, even though he can be mean" as if Ron's meanness is so overwhelming we should apologize for liking him... meanwhile the first "heroic" thing Hermione does is choose violence and set someone on fire but that's just "queen" behaviour apparently.

(and he makes attempts to curse Malfoy, for example, it's not that he never follows through)

Oh yes, he does, and the number of times he tries to punch him only to be restrained by his friends requires multiple hands to count; it's just that Ron won't go overboard. He has a hard limit. Harry has canonically succeeded in using Crucio and Hermione has, as you pointed out, the Marietta stuff and some more; I'd say Ron is more of a "talk shit get hit" knee-jerk guy while Harry and Hermione can be much more calculating - and Hermione is the only one we saw who calculatedly attacked a friend (multiple times even, as she did curse Neville in PS, long before the canaries).

Hermione takes a bit longer in DH, but forgiveness comes pretty quickly to her, too.

Eeeeehhh not really? It might be due to her romantic feelings for Ron but she is quite harsh on him. It takes him almost dying of poison to forgive him in HBP after she iced him out for months, and in DH she gets distracted by Harry becoming obsessed by the Elder Wand. Even after Malfoy Manor, when it's pretty clear she's forgiven Ron after yet realizing their mortality, she's still quick to get on her high horse and act precious when he suggests double-crossing Griphook before he can double-cross them.

Like, Golden Trio fans sometimes like to paint their friendship as just that: "golden," but that's not what their friendship is.

Heh, that's pretty much how I see it too but to me, there's a clear pecking order: Harry is above it all, due to being "the guy whose name is on the cover". Hermione is nearly on Harry's level and sometimes above him, especially with how much the narrative tends to coddle her and excuse her worse actions (and even when it doesn't: Rowling specifically mentions Hermione saying "you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon" "nastily", yet how many cutesy Romione edits do we have treating this line as a harmless funny quip when the text itself pointed out it was an insult?). The one who isn't given any breaks, who always has to bear the full force of the blame and doesn't get to deflect his behaviour because he is the deflection for the Hs to look "not as bad as he is", it's Ron. In the food chain of the Golden Trio, Ron is at the very bottom and when he dares try to stand as an equal to the other two, he's quickly slapped down and told he's immature for daring to want better from the people supposed to be his friends.

Ron starts a lot of the fights the three have because he is taken for granted by his friends and there's only so long one can go being called "immature" and "stupid" for completely innocuous things without going apeshit. His fight with Harry in GOF is due to Harry not being honest with him and Ron picking up on that; in DH Harry's incompetence as their leader and his dismissal of Ron's fears prompts Ron's outrage at Harry's seeming indifference to all the sacrifices and help the Weasley family made for him - something that would doubly hurt Ron as we saw his mother treat Harry better than her own children, which would hurt Ron who already feels neglected but he'd be able to bear it as long as he sees Harry enjoy a "normal" childhood. For Harry to reduce Ron's problems on the Horcrux Hunt as "mama not here to feed you", that's fucking low and I don't blame Ron for blowing a fuse.

Anyway, that is my own view of their friendship. Ron is the biggest loser here, contrary to what most of fandom seems to think because they assume he profits from Harry's status and fame - lolwut when does it ever happen in the book that Ron gets recognition based on knowing Harry? Harry uses his authority as Quidditch captain to keep Ron on the team in HBP, but no student or teacher gives Ron any kind of special treatment based on his closeness to Harry. Hermione also gets taken for granted by Harry a lot, but given how often Rowling uses her to dispense punishments to bad guys or solutions to a problem it's difficult for the reader to forget about her importance.

I definitely don't think the Golden Trio's friendship is one of equals, not as it is written in the books. There's too much dumping on Ron and dismissing his issues as "ugh when is he gonna get over it" for me to believe it's all good and well. They're all pretty damaged, even without Voldemort hanging over them, and sadly as the "quiet kid" of his family, Ron is a little more used to not rowing the boat, only taking a stand for himself when he's really feeling betrayed (Scabbers, GOF, HBP and DH) but every single time he ends having to say he was wrong even when he wasn't (Hermione may be the one apologizing in POA, but Hagrid first came along saying it was bad of Ron to prioritize his pet over his friend... but Hermione prioritizing her pet over Ron's boundaries and feelings was perfectly ok of course).

Bleh. Anyway. That's my own view and opinion of things, colored by my own experience of life and fandom.

We don't talk enough about Ron's mean streak

Like, I saw a lot of people talk about how funny Ron is (which is true, he's genuinely one of the funnier characters in the series), how loyal he is when it counts, he's brave as hell, and he is really smart, just not book smart. But what I don't see talked about enough (maybe it's just me though), is Ron Weasley's mean streak.

I talked about how Harry most definitely has what it takes to be a Slytherin, can be scary, and is willing to kill when push comes to shove. I also mentioned Hermione's ruthlessness, but I didn't discuss Ron's mean streak which is a joy when I see it crop up in the book. When it comes up, it always reminds me of the twins, and I feel like that's where Ron got it from.

So I'm just going to bring up a few quotes I had in my notes showing Ron's mean streak, I'm sure I missed some from the earlier books, but I find it a fun aspect of his character.

Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers. “Who cares?” said Harry and Ron together.

(CoS, 178)

This type of reaction is seen with Ron pretty often. He really doesn't care when someone he dislikes is hurt or injured and he is very vocal about it. He and Harry kinda share this trait, as seen above.

Later in the other quotes I bring up, I show that Hermione is the one usually playing morality police for Ron and Harry even if she herself isn't as innocent as she likes to act.

He raised Ron’s Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, “Obliviate!” The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor. Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock. “Ron!” he shouted. “Are you okay? Ron!” “I’m here!” came Ron’s muffled voice from behind the rockfall. “I’m okay — this git’s not, though — he got blasted by the wand —” There was a dull thud and a loud “ow!” It sounded as though Ron had just kicked Lockhart in the shins.

(CoS, 280)

I love this, Lockhart explodes the cave, obliviates himself, and Ron's reaction is to kick him in the shins. I don't know, I just find it hilarious.

“Don’t talk to me,” Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened. “Why not?” said Hermione in surprise. “Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,” said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. “Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . .” Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates. “He could have really hurt Malfoy, though,” she said. “It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it —” “Hermione!” said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, “you’re ruining the best moment of my life!”

(GoF, 207)

Here you see Hermione the morality police crop up, but I'm talking about Ron here.

Hermione is definitely right in that Draco could've been seriously hurt, but Ron is just glad he saw Malfoy suffering. Actually, in the scene before it, Ron was the one who wanted to curse Malfoy and was held back by Harry and Hermione (as well as in the eat slugs situation in CoS), like, with as much as Harry calls Draco his nemesis, it really feels like Ron is the one that hates Draco and thinks of him as his nemesis.

“She’s an awful woman [Umbridge],” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

(OotP, 324)

I love you, Ron.

This is one of my favorite quotes for him. Hermione shuts down the poison idea, but I think they should've given it a shot, I think it could've been fun.

It would've been cathartic for them at least.

“You take Remedial Potions?” asked Zacharias Smith superciliously, having cornered Harry in the entrance hall after lunch. “Good Lord, you must be terrible, Snape doesn’t usually give extra lessons, does he?” As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, Ron glared after him. “Shall I jinx him? I can still get him from here,” he said, raising his wand and taking aim between Smith’s shoulder blades. “Forget it,” said Harry dismally. “It’s what everyone’s going to think, isn’t it? That I’m really stup —”

(OotP, 528)

I love how Ron always has Harry's back and is ready to fight anyone (including Sirius who he thought was a mass murderer when he was 13 with a broken leg) for Harry's sake. It's a real vibe the Golden Trio has that they're just ready to drop everything and curse out anyone for each other's sake. They are just so protective of each other and I love this for them, how they are all just each other's people, yk.

It's also another example of how Ron is the one of the trio that offers violence as the answer the most often.

“Reparo!” said Hermione quickly, mending Ron’s cup with a wave of her wand. “That’s all very well, but what if Montague’s permanently injured?” “Who cares?” said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. “Montague shouldn’t have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? If you want to worry about anyone, Hermione, worry about me!”

(OotP, 679)

Again Ron doesn't care for the injury of people who he considers deserving.

“Madam Pomfrey says she’s just in shock,” whispered Hermione. “Sulking, more like,” said Ginny. “Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this,” said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.

(OotP, 849)

Like, regardless of whether Umbridge was SAed or not (for the record, I don't think she was) it's not a nice thing to do. Umbridge is awful, but this is Ron literally spreading salt on the wound. but like I mentioned above, she's in the "deserving it" category.

“will you stop pretending to be asleep when Lavender comes to see you? She’s driving me mad as well.” “Oh,” said Ron, looking sheepish. “Yeah. All right.” “If you don’t want to go out with her anymore, just tell her,” said Harry.

(HBP, 411)

That is honestly so mean. Like, I'm not Lavender's biggest fan, I find her annoying, but she's a teenage girl in her maybe first relationship and she did nothing really wrong. I feel truly sorry for her for how Ron treated her, it wasn't really her fault. It's just mean that he pretends to sleep instead of talking to her.

“Same as he wanted at Christmas,” shrugged Harry. “Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry’s new poster boy.” Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, “Look, let me go back and hit Percy!” “No,” she said firmly, grabbing his arm. “It’ll make me feel better!”

(HBP, 650)

Like, this is peak sibling behavior, but as I mentioned earlier, Ron tends to want to resort to violence more often than Harry and Hermione do (especially in the earlier books, as Harry does grow angrier after Sirius' death). He is usually the one to bring violence up, and I find it an interesting aspect of his character.

And Ron is correct in the fact hitting Percy would make him feel better. Not saying if it's the right thing to do, but Ron really would experience it as satisfying because Percy would deserve it in his mind.

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head.

(DH, 167)

As I mentioned in one of the Harry posts, Harry is calling the shots, but Ron is the one who offered to kill the Death Eaters. He put that idea on the table. He was relieved when Harry said they shouldn't kill them, but if Harry said it'd be better if they killed them — Ron would've backed him up and done it, while Hermione might've preferred to pretend it wasn't happening.

“That treacherous old bleeder.” Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry. “Hermione you’re a genius, a total genius. I can’t believe we got out of that.” “Cave Inimicum. . . Didn’t I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn’t I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!” “Serves him right,” said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs, “What’d you reckon they’ll do to him?” “Oh I hope they don’t kill him!” groaned Hermione, “That’s why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn’t been lying!”

(DH, 424)

Again, Ron not caring/enjoying when people who deserve it suffer. Xenophilius wanted to help them, he tried to persuade them not to come into his home at first so he wouldn't give them in, he tried so hard even though the Death Eaters had his daughter! Harry rightly feels bad for Xenophilius and Luna, it's easy to understand why he did what he did.

Hermione and Harry hope he is fine, but Ron is the one who thinks he has it coming. That he deserves to have his house blown up for betraying them, regardless of his reasoning.

I think Ron is the most black-and-white in his thoughts about people among the trio. There are those who deserve anything that comes to them and those who don't. Specific circumstances and context don't really play a part in what bad people deserve coming to them.

I don't know, I just find this interesting.

Harry has the compassion to understand people, even ones who harmed him or the people he cares about, he is capable of forgiving Voldemort and never really hated Draco.

Hermione is pretty black-and-white in her view of people, having the people she trusts and those she doesn't. She trusts Snape because he's an authority figure trusted by Dumbledore (and Hermione is the one who is truly Dumbledore's woman true and true in the books). Her view on people has less to do with their actions, but who they are endorsed by. She is compassionate to Xenophilius because he's Luna's dad, and Luna is good, therefore, she wouldn't love someone who is bad.

Ron is black-and-white in how he sees people in a very different way than Hermione. He looks at actions, and if you do anything to try and harm him or people he cares about, you get on the shit list. Getting out of Ron's shit list is probably not easy, he doesn't strike me as one who forgives easily and readily the way Harry does, but he does forgive. Like actions can get you on his shit list, actions can get you out. But once a person is on the shit list, they deserve any harm that comes their way.

But Ron is really loyal, and there are people he loves who are basically immune from going on the shit list (like his family, yes, even Percy. While he wants to hit him, I don't believe Ron ever really wished death on Percy). And there is just something interesting about Ron, with his mean streak and everything, being the glue that holds the trio together. Like, in Deathly Hallows once he leaves, Harry and Hermione barely talk to each other, they are barely friends without Ron there.

I don't know, I just love Ron. I love how he is loyal, and friendship glue, but has just as much of a mean streak to him as Harry and Hermione can pull. I just feel like he's sometimes left out of the discussion of how ruthless Harry and Hermione could be. Like, it's true, both of them can be ruthless, but don't leave Ron out. He can be ruthless and actually offers violence as a solution more often than Harry or Hermione do.

[carnal-lnstinct]

Pairing:  Goku x Black Female Bratty!Reader  Summary: Goku has a “super serious mission” but reader is tired of coming second in his life. Rating: Mature / 18+. Minors DNI Warning: ( explicit language, canon-typical violence, bratty reader, spanking, implied rough sex / rough oral ) A/N: To the anon who requested goku x black bratty!reader fic and for the rest of you who are a bad influence on inspiration for my love of all things goku and goku accessories, i tell you hwhat ♥ I am very afraid of what this may awaken in me, this prompt had a hold on me.

[ Part One ] [ Part Two ]

“I don’t give a damn who or what he is! You made a promise to me, Goku!”

Your voice carried over the wide open space of The Lookout attracting the attention of everyone else gathered around, the orange-clad saiyan standing in front of you signaling you with his hands in an attempt to quiet you down and shushing you. Not so far behind him was the Angel and God of Destruction of the 7th Universe tuning in only because the latter was sure that hot-tempered comment was about him. A disrespect he wouldn’t stand for if you dared to repeat it again so boldly.

Your hands fan out to wave Goku’s away from you, foiling his attempts to try and calm you. You were not looking to back down from your temper at all this time. “No! That’s five times now! You said to me, and I quote: “I’m just going to see if Vegeta is training with Whis and then I’ll be right back to take you out. Promise!”, and now here we are again! You’re coming to me with yet another excuse to get out of it. Again!” You growled, turning your back to him with a stomp of your foot and shoving your hands against your chest. “The day I can wipe my hands of you would be the happiest day of my fucking life, I swear!” His large hand touches your shoulder which you abruptly snatch away.

“You know you don’t mean that. C’mon, (y/n).” Goku comes around you so he can look you in the eyes, hands once again finding your shoulders. “Can you let me explain? It’s not that I don’t want to, something more important just came up while I was at Lord Beerus’ place.”

“More important?” You repeated, offended. You untuck your arms and shove his hands away once again. “Than time with me? You live on Earth! Down here with me! Why is the entire universe constantly your problem?!”

Goku sighs somewhat exhausted and rubs at the back of his neck, his other hand on his hip. “There just really isn’t talking with you sometimes, (y/n). Why do you always have to turn what I say against me? This situation isn’t that simple... You know I wouldn’t abandon you unless it was something big at stake. Something that could threaten you too!” 

You place your own hands on your hips and roll your eyes, “Oh really, like missing a single training would ruin you.”

“But that’s just it! This is not training! It’s-”

“-Being everyone elses’ hero, right?!” You gesture a hand behind you at the two deities. “We learn there’s a fucking God of Destruction and someone even stronger than he is that exists in our fucking lifetimes, but you still have to step in to fight their battles for them! You can’t for once just choose me or care about my thoughts in a situation like it won’t affect the life we share together! Make it make sense, Goku! When is it not your fight? Huh?! Tell me!”

The saiyan’s shoulders drop with another sigh, exasperated, and he rolls his eyes as you continued to pick and occasionally throw your fist into his body when he turns his head away from you to get his attention back. To no real effect, of course, you couldn’t hurt him or really intend to. You’re just frustrated and lashing out rather childishly. Nothing more or less than another one of your tantrums every time you are mildly inconvenienced by his attention being stolen away from you. You just explode into this fussy, angry ball of mean words, stomps, and fists. He gets it, and maybe he did make excuses once or twice in order to focus on training, but there’s nothing he can do about this time.  There was no right way of how he handled those very blatant times he skipped out on you to train, which does make him feel guilty. Of course he loves you and loves spending time with you, but this was a really important matter he had to attend to. Grand Zeno personally summoned him!

 Goku slightly leans to the side to look around you at The Tall Angel. “Whis, is there a chance (y/n) can come with us?”

Beerus responds with a comical gape at the very idea, Whis silently blinking as his eyes went between you and the saiyan. He frowns, “I would have to advise against that. The situation at hand is delicate enough without...provocation.”

“FUC-” Goku quickly covers your mouth and holds you at bay against his own body before you can lash out at Whis.

“Calm down, (y/n)! There’s no need to act like this! I really, really mean it this time, I’ll be right back for you!” He attempted once again to calm you with words and literally his whole body as you started to kick your feet and shake your individual braids to-and-fro like whips against his face to release your mouth.

Piccolo approached Whis and Beerus, an embarrassed shade of color across his cheeks and nose as he attempted to apologize on behalf of Goku and your display. “Please excuse their behavior, Lord Beerus. They uh...go through this from time to time. Her bark’s worse than her bite, trust me.” Piccolo reassured the divine beings forced to endure this spectacle right in front of them. “She does care very deeply for the fate of our universe. A-And Goku.”

“Right, she loves him and he’s an imbecile. Tale as old as time.” Beerus groused.

It was then Goku had enough of your beating at him that he suddenly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “(Y/n)! You seriously have to calm down this time! If you don't wanna talk to me and instead yell at me, then you can just wait at home for me to get back.” The change in the tone of his voice just made you thrash about to try and free yourself.

“Put me down right fucking now! You’ll be lucky if I even let you come back home after this! Mr. Super Saiyan Fucking God of pissing me the fuck off!”

“That’s enough!” The sound following the annoyed rise in Goku’s voice was enough to silence everyone around the two of you, including you, your perch over his shoulder forcing you to make eye contact with Bulma, Dende, and even the Supreme Kai Shin. And then there are the others you can’t see behind you who got a full view of his hand colliding with the fullest part of your ass.

You froze, successfully silenced by the pop against your backside but surprised he even did that to you. In front of gods, and kais, and your friends! He never struck you before, let alone on your ass like you were some mischievous child. The sting of the contact settled and electrified your skin, your face darkening in embarrassment. And something else. Like the strike sent some invigorated signal directly to your core.  

In your silent stupor trying to wrap our mind around it, you feel yourself turn slightly and realized you are being carried away, long braids swinging with the bounce of Goku’s steps. He stops at the edge of The Lookout before turning back towards The Destroyer God. “Lord Beerus, we won’t be leaving for a little while right? Do you mind if I take (y/n) back home to calm down, I’ll be right back?” You hear the large cat choke on his own breath before he shouted back at him.

“This isn’t some tea party you can bow out of, Goku! This is serious!” He growled, shaking his fist towards the saiyan. With a grump and a turn up his nose, Beerus snorted with annoyance. But perhaps the air around this place would feel more tolerable without screaming humans.  “Whatever. Get your affairs in order, it may be your last. Then come right back here. On time! You do not make Grand Zeno wait for anything!” He warns. “I’ll drag you back here myself!”

Goku nods, “Right back, I promise!” He waves his hand and then places two fingers to the center of his brow. Your surroundings change in a blink of an eye.

You’re home, recognizing the change in scenery from The Lookout to your current surroundings. You’re then hauled up from his shoulder in both his hands and placed down on your feet in front of him. Faced with his frown. He looks mad at you, but then he sighs and his brow unknits itself. Goku lifts his hand to you to moves some of your braids from your face.

“That wasn’t very nice of me, but you left me no choice, hun. You can’t keep throwing a fit like that! Especially in front of Lord Beerus! He’s just as anxious about the situation.” He leans a little closer holding an instructive finger up to you bringing your wide eyes to look up at him. “We are still goin' out, okay? I’m not breaking my promise to you this time. But I can’t say no to a request from Zenie, too.”

 You start to lift from your spell, placing a hand on your ass where the pain dulled and lowering your eyes from him. “Y-you really did that. In front of everybody.” Biting into your lip, you swallowed. “Goku I...I need you.”

He blinks confused, straightening out and lifting your head with a curled finger to your chin to look up at him. “Did you hear me? We’re still going out- ”

“No.” You breathe, taking hold of his hand and placing it directly on your ass. “I need you to do it again. Right now.” You pleaded, watching his eyes widen. Your hands then grip into his orange gi and pull him forward into your sweet, full lips.

“H-hit you?” He asks almost unsure, voice muffled against your lips. “Right now?!” You reach and suggestively slap your hand over his still holding your ass to show him.

“Yes! Do it!” You sighed, excited, leaning your entire entire body against his and lifting your leg to hold around his hip. It seems he contemplated it for a moment or two, but read your affection loud and clear. You feel his hand leave you and come back with a restrained pop. Not like the first one, frustratingly so. You pull back from your kiss to look up at him, continuing to hold yourself close. “N-No, no do it harder. Didn’t I annoy you? Don’t you hate it when I yell at you in front of everyone?” You tempted him further, batting your lashes at him. “I’m askin’ this time. Quick, quick. You gotta go!”

It is annoying, but...he doesn’t completely hate it when you do. He knows you do it because you care, he’s drawn to that feisty spirit of yours. You see his dark eyes look upon you more determined and you visibly flinch with a muffled moan when a firmer pop jiggles your ass in your pants. Your face twisted in a masochistic delight. It stings, hurts, then immediately feels like a lightning strike to your heated core. A vocal breath falls from your lips and you grin at him.

“A-again.” You begged, face flushed. Goku places his hand on the small of your back and goes in with his other hand this time to even out his strikes, hitting your other cheek with the same effort. Your eyes looked like they wanted to roll into the back of your head as a rough purr sounded in your throat this time and you grinned like an idiot. “Fuuuck yes, Goku.” 

Getting excited from being struck? Perhaps the two of you weren’t as different as he thought. He may get heated up in an interesting fight when a powerful strike lands on him, but seeing the way you roused at having your butt spanked just made you ten times more attractive to him, surpassing what he thought was an impossible feat since he was already crazy about you. A brief moment of being reminded of how fascinated he was with you was all it took to phase other matters to the back of his head. Before either of you knew it, you were bent over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down. Ass cheeks glowing a red glow that could all fit the shape of his hands perfectly. Your ass bounces off the rough thrusts behind you in a euphoric mix of both pain and pleasure. It was like fire, but you couldn’t help throwing yourself back onto his large cock stretching your cunt out to fit him and only him. Your throat was so sore, not only from your harsh swearing and blissful cries from the handling you pleaded for but from the merciless way he fucked you there too. And still, gratefully, you moaned for him like some x-rated video star, cried his name like a prayer for salvation into the couch pillows cradling your face.

All wrapped up in your excitement to have him inside you, to have his uninterrupted attention all on you just like you wanted. It is a rough quickie, but one you both definitely needed to release some of your tension. He better come straight back to you after this “more important” matter was handled.

[sweeterthanthis]

Prompt: “Are you gonna be good or do I have to gag you?”

Requested by: @gogolucky13 — I’m so sorry. That’s all I can say. The ending was angstier than I ever intended. Thank you so much for celebrating this milestone with me. ILY, Rose! ✨ Thanks to @ozarkthedog for looking this over for me ✨

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5k (Drabble? We don’t know her 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Warnings: Explicit content, infidelity (reader is unhappily married to an asshole), blow jobs, vaginal sex, a little angst, suggestions of violence and some soft!protective Lee 🥺 18+.

Fucking Lee was never boring. Never dissatisfying.

Always the highlight of your week.

It had started the way it always did. You heading to the Police Station to bail out your husband after yet another bar fight. Only these days, you found yourself applying a slick of lipstick and wearing your prettiest dresses. And it was all for him.

“God damn it, make my dick so hard.” He moaned, your mouth bobbing up and down on his fat cock; throat opening as he broke through the barrier, oesophagus contracting around his girth. Spittle dripped from your mouth, tongue flat against your chin, one of his hands tangled in your hair and his hips rutting against your face. “Maybe I should keep that Husband a’yours locked up, huh?”

Your moans muffled and your mouth stuffed full, you shuffled closer; forcing your head down to the very base of him as he hissed in satisfaction, looking down at your watery eyes, cheeks glistening from the tears.

You withdrew a little, allowing yourself to breath and tilting your head, resting it against his thigh – the crown of his cock bulging against the inside of your cheek. He tapped your cheek lightly, the feel of him throbbing in your mouth making you drunk on the taste of him.

“Get up here, Girl. Come sit on my dick and show me how much you wan’ it.”

You sucked the length of him for good measure, releasing him from your mouth with a wet ‘pop’, hitching your dress up around your waist and scrambling up into his lap. You shimmied into position, knees either side of his thighs and bracing your hands on his shoulders – the chair wobbling slightly at the weight of you both.

Fucking him in his office was your favourite thing to do. No doubt about it. Knowing that his Deputies were just the other side of the wall made it dangerous, and that only served to arouse you more. You didn’t spare a thought to your Husband. And why would you? He didn’t deserve an ounce of your sympathy. Had probably been face down in pussy before he’d been picked up by the Sheriff between your thighs.

“Oh, Jesus Fuck.” You cried, sinking down onto him – never ready for the stretch of his cock inside of you.

“Watch that mouth, Darlin’.” He warned, wrapping an arm around your waist, and tugging your body tight to his. Lee always allowed you a minute to get used to the burn, revelling in the sight of your face scrunching in pleasure. “C’mon now, ride me like I know you been wantin’ to all week. Why’d you think I picked that asshole up in the first place?”

Rolling your hips, grinding yourself down on him and crying out at the sensation of the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit; you were wild. He coaxed it out of you every time, turned you into a wanton harlot and made you want to do anything to please him.

“Shit, Lee. So full.” You blurted, forehead pressed against his own as you lifted yourself on your knees, slamming back down onto him with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t control your mouth, garbled words running merry hell, spouting all manner of filthy praise and promises. “Fuck, yes. Oh my g-god, yes!”

With one swift movement, your legs secure around his waist, he stood: lifting you both from the chair and splaying you out before him on his desk.

Lee’s cock bobbed against your slick cunt, teasing your pussy lips. He hooked your legs up over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs and yanking you forwards; ass hanging off the edge of the desk.

“You gotta be quiet, Darlin’.” He purred, slipping the tip back inside your fluttering hole. You watched in confusion as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of your worn panties and twirling them around his finger. “Are you gonna be good, or do I have to gag you?”

The thought of him stuffing your mouth with the tainted lace made your head spin. You pursed your lips closed, wriggling around on the wooden surface beneath you, your foot curled around the back of his neck trying to urge him back inside you fully.

“Good girl.” He crooned, fucking into with wild abandon. Lee knew exactly how to fuck you, knew which spots to hit. He knew how much you loved it when he’d switch his pace, going from fast and hard, to slow and languid in a heartbeat. “Look’it this pussy, swallowin’ up my dick. S’it hungry, Darlin?”

“Oh, yes. Oh fuck, yes. So hungry, Baby. Need all’a you.”

It was shameless, the way you gave in to him. Wanted to be full of him all the time. Nothing like it in the world. He leant forward, your legs falling from his shoulders and hooking around his waist.

And what he did next would never fail to shock you. He kissed you. Kissed you so tenderly, it made you want to weep. His tongue dipped into your mouth, swirling around your own, your tastebuds alive with the faint hint of strawberries from the candy he’d been sucking on.

Still, he fucked you. Rough thrusts, the flesh of your thighs jiggling with each stroke. So good that any thought of your Husband sulking in a jail cell right next door left your mind completely.

It was all Lee.

You always felt awkward when it was over, smoothing out your dress and fixing your hair in the mirror hanging on the wall. Saying Goodbye didn’t seem natural, didn’t feel right. But you couldn’t bring yourself to delve deeper into your heart to ask yourself why.

Married at 17, you’d never known any different. Your Husband had always been an asshole, a disrespectful shit of a man. Whoring around left, right and centre without a thought to you. You used to sit up at night worrying about the state he’d get himself in, forgiving him for his sordid infidelities and wrong doings. Not that he ever apologised.

And now? Now you found yourself hoping he’d get himself into a scuffle so that you’d end up here, in the arms of another man. A man who, as sharp-tongued and crude as he was, seemed focused on nothing but your shared pleasure. On making you feel good.

“Why’d you marry that asshole anyway?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, walking towards the desk he’d just fucked you on and picking up your purse from the chair in front of it. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring yourself to see the expression on his face.

“I was young’n stupid, Lee. Now I’m just sorta stuck, I guess.” Your voice trailed off into a whisper, eyes trained to your feet and heartbeat erratic in your chest cavity. “You gonna let him out now?”

You heard the shuffle of his shoes against the carpet, index finger hooked beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his stare. You tried to read him, to understand the look in his eyes as they studied you.

“He ever hurts you, even so much as touches a hair on that pretty head, you call me.”

Your blinked away the welling tears in your eyes, choking back a sob and clearing your throat so as to hide your emotions. But he could tell. You knew it from the way his thumb stroked at your quivering jaw.

“He touches you and I’ll kill him. That’s a Goddamn promise, Sweetheart.”

The tip of his nose brushed against your own, and the softness of the motion made your chin wobble. The sweetest, most pathetic of whimpers echoing from your parted lips. Lee made you feel safe. Lee made you feel wanted. Made you feel loved.

“I’ll see you soon.” You whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek as you turned on your heel and walked towards the door. His voice stopped you in your tracks, fingers lingering on the door handle as he spoke.

“I ain’t got nobody at home. Treat you like a Princess if you give me the chance.”

Your chest felt like it was caving in, knowing that everything you wanted – needed – was just within reach. And yet, still so untouchable.

“Could treat you real good, make you happy, hold you tight all night long.”

You hung your head low, allowing one solitary tear to fall before batting it away with the back of your hand.

“No more fuckin’ in secret. I’d love on ya so hard, Darlin’. Be so proud to call a pretty thing like you my wife.”

You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear to hear the heartfelt words you never thought he’d say.

“Think about it.”

Twisting the doorknob in your palm, you pulled it open, taking a second to look back over your shoulder at him – his eyes pleading with you as you took a step forwards.

“I’ll be seein’ you, Lee.”

A/N: I’ll reblog this fic with tags in a short while as it’s fairly substantial. Hope you enjoyed reading!✨

[whump-a-la-mode]

Could you do a story where the villain tries to break into the hero’s house but finds them barely conscious (broken ribs maybe) and they decide to help them? Idk if you’ve done smtg similar, sorry

Ooh, this is a fun one! There’s more story here than real caretaking, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you so much for the prompt!

CW//Strong language, implied violence against children, injuries

When that week had begun, Villain would have been lying if they had said that kidnapping a hero was on the very top of their to-do list. In fact, it was so low on their list of priorities that was little more than a contingency plan. A vague idea. There were far more useful things they could do than stooping to the level of their adversaries and taking captives.

That had been at the start of the week, however. When Villain’s life wasn’t a complete disaster. They’d started their Monday morning with a cup of coffee and a pile of plans to carry out.

None of them had included staking out in the bushes outside the home of a particular Hero. But, here they were, stalking through undergrowth, picking up burrs on their clothes all the way.

Now, those plans had been tossed in the nearest wastepaper bin. This was of a far greater importance.

The heroes were cruel. No villain in the city would dispute that point. There was no level to which they would hesitate to stoop, from kidnapping to bioweaponry to manipulation.

But a child? A child should have been off limits. A child was innocent, far too young to be involved in the waged conflicts surrounding them. It was why Villain had never wanted a Sidekick in the first place. When the kid approached them, though, they knew that refusal wasn’t an option. The poor thing was washed up, on the brink of falling into a far worse world. In desperate need of a wing to be taken under.

Sidekick was just a kid. Villain was mentoring them, training them, nothing more. They could hardly fight, much less win any conflict they found themself thrown into. They were far more of a civilian than they were any sort of threat.

And the heroes had taken them. Driven up alongside them and tossed them into the back of a van. A kid, Villain’s kid, now sat in a cell somewhere, in hero custody. A child turned into a bargaining chip.

The only problem with that? Villain had nothing to offer in return. The heroes knew that full well. That was why they’d taken the kid in the damn first place.

They wanted Villain. Sidekick’s release in exchange for their imprisonment.

It was a deal that was simply untenable. As much as the idea of their own captivity horrified them, it would bring along with it another consequence: Sidekick would have no one to go to.

They simply couldn’t go along with it. They needed their own bargaining chip, their own cash in the pile.

Hero was going to be that chip.

In a way, to them, it was revenge as much as it was strategy. Hero was the only one of the heroes that Villain had ever truly interacted with. They were young as well, only a new inductee into the ranks of the protectors of the city. That meant, too, that they were weak.

It had been easier than Villain had expected, to find the home address of one of the city’s heroes. But, so it turned out, just about information could be bought and sold from any number of unscrupulous street characters-- for the right price, of course.

And, here they were. With heavy, clomping steps, they approached the back of Hero’s home. Their uniform and mask covered nearly every inch of their expression, blending them into the shadows and grass they moved through.

A few hours prior, they’d scouted out the building, making note of a second-story window that never seemed to lock quite right. Of course, most of the time, this wouldn’t be an issue-- no criminal would be bold enough to hook a ladder all the way up there.

But Villain didn’t need a ladder.

With a hop, skip, and a jump, solid ground disappeared from beneath them. It wasn’t flight, per se, but diving deeper into the logistics of levitation bored most. What mattered was that, to Villain, gravity was no deterrent.

Now at the height of the window, they hooked their fingers under it. They cringed as the frame let out a terrible screeching noise, their heart lunging between their lungs. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

But, from within the bedroom, there was no reaction; aside from a low, exhausted groan. Was Hero asleep? It certainly sounded like it. They supposed that that was why they had decided to make their attack in the middle of the night.

Gritting their teeth, Villain pushed the window open the rest of the way, siddling their body through and collapsing upon the crumbling carpet below.

Another groan.

“Mom?”

Villain stiffened as they scrambled to first their knees, then their feet. The bedroom was standard, in most ways. A bed, a dresser, a closet with a single broken, dangling from a single nail.

And a hero. Hero laid upon the bed, covers tossed off of their body and to the floor. One of their arms was folded so as to cover their eyes, all while yet another groan escaped their body.

As the villain approached the edge of the footrest, they could not help but taste the choking sensation of a trap. Had their accomplice sold them out? Had Hero seen them during their scouting mission? There was no way they had slept through all this!

But, this wasn’t sleep. No. Sleeping people did not twitch painfully in their unconsciousness.

They dared take a step closer, examining their incapacitated target. Their shirt had been pulled up, nearly to their chest, as though they had been desperately trying to cool themself down. Or... Or to relieve the pain of an injury.

From their naval to their chest, and likely beyond, though it was covered by their shirt, their skin had turned a deep, flushed, blue color. The edges of the bruises, in certain places, had even begun to turn sickly green and purple colors.

Villain knew broken ribs when they saw them. They knew for a fact that they were not the one to have inflicted these wounds. Hell, they hadn’t faced the hero in battle in nearly a month!

So who had?

When they had entered the home, they had had no thoughts in their mind besides those of their child. The hostage video the heroes had sent them, in which Sidekick shivered in a lonely, cold cell.

Now- Now they had two people to worry about. Certainly the heroes had their own doctors, didn’t they? No doctor worth their salt would leave a patient in this condition, especially not alone!

“Hey.” Villain’s stomped their foot. “Get up, you deft ass. I’m trying to kidnap you.”

Hero’s arm lazily flopped onto the bed as their eyes fluttered open.

Every muscle in their body tensed, making the bruises on their exposed stomach twist and flex.

“What the absolute- Villain?” They shifted, as though they were about to sit up-- but they did not. Instead, they lay only groaning on the bed. “Get out of my house, you piece of shit! Get out! You shouldn’t be here in the first place!”

Villain knew that voice like a ringtone. That undertone of terror, masked by layers and layers of fury, like a canine’s medication hidden in peanut butter.

“You’re beat up halfway to hell.”

“And you’re going to be if you don’t leave my house!”

The villain raised a brow, dropping their hands to the side.

“Go for it. I’ll give you a free shot, even.”

Hero narrowed their eyes, twitching once more on the bed, but moving no more than that.

“I said, hit me, you damn do-gooder.”

“I’m not stooping to your level.” Hero defended hastily.

“It seems more to me.” Villain placed one threatening hand upon the bed-- not touching their foe, but close enough. “Like you’re a bit stuck. Like your abdomen is so fucked that you can’t so much as sit yourself up.”

“More like I’m not wasting my energy one someone as low as you.”

“Isn’t that your whole job?”

Hero gritted their teeth.

“What in the hell do you want?”

“Unimportant, at least for now.” A shark encircling its prey, Villain moved to the side of Hero’s bed, forcing them to turn their head at an awkward side angle in order to see their attacker. “I think the most important thing, right about now, is getting you to the nearest medic.”

“I don’t need an ambulance.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

And, like that, the Hero was hoisted up into their enemy’s arms. Their injuries minimized their thrashing, leaving them as a rather compliant captive.

“I have some medic friends who would just love to know what in the hell happened to you.” Villain turned, beginning to head out the door. Their vehicle was parked at only a few block’s distance. “They don’t treat heroes often, but, right about now, you don’t look like too much of a hero to me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I was just getting there, wasn’t I? We’re getting my damn kid back.”

“We?”

“Did I stutter?”

[bloodycassian]

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt: 

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will)  and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone.  He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it.  They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. +  The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy. 

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands. 

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.  

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?" 

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps. 

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate." 

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came. 

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached.  The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage.  --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him.  Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though.  As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again.  + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel.  "We need to make sure she's okay before we move."  Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened.  You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw.  Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-"  "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice.  Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring.  Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother.  +  "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better."  Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him.  "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards. 

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand.  Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way. 

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin. 

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow. 

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now.  "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared. 

[marvelouslytrekking]

The Code

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader Summary: Mando leaves specific instructions not to leave the ship while he is out on a hunt. Disobey those instructions leads to very terrible consequences - will Mando make it back in time? Word Count: 3232 Warning: Mention of blood, pain, knife, torture, canon-typical violence A/N: I decided to see if the Whumptober prompts inspired anything and here this is.... days 1, 2, & 3 all in one! The specific prompts used were: 1: Bound 2: Gagged 3: “Who did this to you” I hope y'all enjoy! Also don’t forget Feedback Feeds my Soul

Main Masterlist | Other Din fics 

You knew that you should have listened to him, he told you not to leave the ship but you wanted to find something other than the terrible rations to eat. You thought that you would be fine. You made sure that the kid was secure in the ship, and you made sure that the ship was in your line of sight, you’d be able to get back to it if you needed.

Everything had been going well, you had found some fruit that was growing and from what you could tell, was edible. You had begun picking the fruit, excited to see what all you could make with what you were finding.

You heard a branch snap, but it wasn’t from your own feet. You scanned the area, surely it was just an animal but you suddenly got a sick feeling in your gut, and knew you needed to get back to the ship. You would just need to engage ground security protocols once you were onboard and both you and the child would be safe.

You had turned to head back to the ship, but it was too late. You saw that they were closer than you, there was no way for you to make it onboard before they did. You didn’t even have to think, the decision had been an easy one, you used the remote controls to engage the protocols, locking the child in the ship when the hunters wouldn’t be able to get to him. It would buy him time until Mando could get back and kill them off.

You then tried to hunker down, they hadn’t seen you yet and you had hoped that it would stay that way. It had bought you some time. You watched from the foliage as they tried to get in the ship to no avail. You felt relief knowing the child was safe, though that relief was only short lived as you suddenly heard movement behind you.

You whipped around quickly, trying to get a blaster shot off but he was faster than you expected and managed to dodge the shot, which just meant that you had signaled the others to your location. You were luckily fast enough to rip your arm panel with the controls for the ship off your arm and shoot that. You got one good step on it too before a blaster shot hit your thigh.

You crumbled to the ground from the pain of the close range shot, you desperately tried to focus on getting out of the situation or fighting your way out of the 5 men, but before you could find your footing again, the man’s foot was on your shoulder, painfully pressing it into the ground. You still tried to get a shot off at him, but he was easily able to pry your blaster from your hand.

“He sure picked a feisty one.” The hunter chucked before grabbing you by the shoulder and pulling you upright. You were surrounded by 2 other men before you were fully upright, one on each side of you, dragging you back towards the ship.

“She destroyed her controls.” The first man told the others, lifting the destroyed band.

“That’s fine, her biometrics should open the ship using the panel at the door.” Another pointed out. You were never more thankful for how paranoid Mando was, while your biometrics were required to get to the controls, to undo something like ground protocols, or really anything, a 6 digit code was also needed. And only you knew your code.

You probably should have let them figure that out themselves but you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He growled.

“Oh, just that even with a big ass head, you have a tiny fucking brain.” You chuckled. Your insult only earned you two fingers pushing into the wound on your leg, making you cry out.

“Not laughing now.” He smirked, happy with his work. He didn’t waste his time forcing you to the panel, pressing your hand to the reader. You could feel how smug he was when the light went green. There was a moment of anticipation, then the code boxes popped up and you felt the anger and annoyance that he felt realizing what had happened.

You felt the blaster pressed into the back of your head as he took a step away from you. “Open that door right now or I will shoot you.”

“If you kill me you’ll never get in.” You pointed out. You knew that the next few hours or days, depending on how long Mando took, wasn’t going to be pleasant, but you had no plans on giving them that code. You would rather be killed. “Go ahead and shoot me now, because it does not matter what you do, I will never give up that code.”

You turned around slowly, looking down the barrel of the gun, directly into the man’s eyes. You refused to let him think he had you scared, you wanted him to realize that he would fail, that you would die before even thinking about giving up Mando or the kid.

“We’ll see about that.” He locked eyes on you, lowering the gun only slightly. “Tie them up,” You were quickly grabbed and dragged over to a tree that was near the entrance of the ship, you were bound to the tree tightly, a little wiggling told you that you weren’t getting out very easily.

“Alimar! Can you get that damn door open?” The man you assumed was in charge asked the smallest man, who was beside the panel.

“I am trying sir, but the security is very tight and I am afraid that one wrong move and it will just lock down more.”

“Well don’t make a wrong move. I want that damn door open before The Mandalorian gets back here.”

“Now you, you’re going to make his job unneeded and you’re going to tell us your code.”

“Again, not happening.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your answer earned you a swift and strong fist to your gut. You groaned at the pain but straightened yourself.

“Fine, stop, the code is 654321.” You said, making yourself sound more out of breath then you were.

“Don’t enter that!” The man in front of you shouted to Alimar, who was about to enter it as if you would give up that easy.

“Is that the code you enter to warn your little mandalorian? You think I’m that stupid?”

“I guess you’ll never know if I ever even give you the right code or if what I say will do any number of things, from warn Mando, to locking it down further, to self destroying the ship.”

“You wouldn’t risk the kid’s life.” He glared at you, but you could tell the wheels in his brain were turning. He had to think of a way to get you to give him the code, but he had to be able to be sure it was the right one.

“Well I guess that just leaves the hard way. Can’t trust you until I can break you.”

He wasn’t lying, he had no intentions of going easy on you. He had started by changing your position, tying your hands on a branch that happened to be at the perfect height above your head. You knew this position left you much more vulnerable, and he took full advantage of that.

He started with his blaster, a shot to your shin, followed by asking for the code. You gave another random combination of 6 digits. He then walked away, towards the panel, he would examine it, then walk back. A shot to your forearm, followed by the same question. You gave another 6 numbers. He walked away, only to come back, this time with a knife.

He gave you a deep cut on the outside of the thigh that hadn’t been shot previously. You hadn’t been able to hold in the screamed pains you had been letting out after each infliction, which only seemed to make the man in front of you smile.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did notice the sun beginning to set. He started to leave you alone for longer periods, which was good. You weren’t sure how many more you were going to be able to take. You were just praying that Mando would be back soon.

Even if you didn’t last much longer, you also started to worry about their resident mechanic. You kept your eye on his progress and were scared that he could actually manage to get through the door.

It had quickly become dark, the only light coming from the lights on the ship. You could tell it was also cooling down as well. You tried to ignore the shivers that were running through your body but there was no use.

“Shit!” You heard the man who had been on watch utter. “Boss! We got a problem, he’s here.”

“Fuck!” The man in charge frantically looked around trying to figure something out. You were about to let out a scream, something to warm Mando, but right as you opened your mouth, one of them shoved a cloth into your mouth.

“Not gonna happen.” He tightened it around your head, making sure you weren’t able to spit it out to warn Mando.

“Good, all we need to do is hide, when he gets here, he’ll be distracted with them, and by the time they can even try to warn him, we’ll jump him.” Their leader told them. They were quickly to gather the little they had and find themselves spots that they would go unseen.

You just prayed that Mando would catch their body signatures through his visor first. If he noticed them before he noticed you, then he would have a chance of fighting them off. If their plan went their way, and he was distracted by you, there was a chance they could overpower him.

You heard your name being shouted, you turned your head to see Mando, his focus solely on you. His helmet never left you, even as you shook your head viciously, trying to get him to look anywhere else, but he was in front of you quickly.

Mando was looking you over, you could feel the anger and tension that was radiating from him. Though at the moment all you could think about was warning him. You were trying to yell through the gag, but it stopped anything comprehensible from coming out.

“Who did this to you!?” Mando asked, a sharp edge to his voice, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He was quick to untie to gag, realizing you were trying to say something.

“Behind you!” Was all you could manage to get out as soon as the gag was undone.

He only had a moment to turn around and realize that he was faced with exactly who did this. His blaster was fired off before he even fully had time to process what was transpiring. His shot landed, though you were sad to realize it took down the least threatening, the mechanic.

He begins to go for the other four men, but one manages to kick his blaster out of his hand, he is left trying to fight all of them with just his hands. You tried to get out of your ropes again, to no avail and were left to watch in panic and he tried to fight them all off. He had been knocked to the ground. Not one, but two of the men on top of him holding him down. You watched as he went to use his flame thrower on his arm to get them off him, when the leader was quick to step down hard on his wrist, stopping his ability to get the flames anywhere that would be helpful.

You watched in panic as he thrashed around, trying to gain any leverage but he was outnumbered. The leader got the third man to take over holding his arm down. The two men on top of him shifted slightly, just enough so that their leader could bend down in front of Mando.

“It looks like you aren’t as sharp as everyone says.” He taunted. “I was expecting more of a fight, I didn’t think that you cared about anything under all that metal. But looks like all it took to take down the great Mandalorian was capturing his favorite little companion.”

“Leave them out of this!” He seethed, thrashing more at the mention of you.

“Oh, but why would I, when we had so much fun today while you were gone.” He smiled disgustingly. “Honestly surprised they are even awake with all I put them through today.”

His attention flickered to you for a moment, he was quick to notice you looked more panicked now than you had all day and he realized he might have just hit the jackpot.

“You know, I always wondered what you looked like under that tin can. I bet you are hideous, it’s not some creed that keeps that helmet on, but more that you are just so ugly no one would want to look at you.” He began to bend down towards Mando. If he had been thrashing beforehand, now he was frantic.

“Stop!!” You screamed, grabbing the leader and Mando’s attention. “Stop! I will give you the code, please, just leave him alone,”

“Is that all it takes to break you? You don’t want to know what he looks like? Afraid he will have to kill you after you know?”

“I think I have made it pretty clear today that my life is not what matters here.” You sighed, “Just leave him alone and I will give you the code.”

“Don’t!” You heard him beg you, but your heart was shattering, you refused to allow these men to break Mando of his creed. A creed that you had witnessed how seriously he took. You would not be a part of that happening.

You locked your eyes with his visor, hoping that you were meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch them hurt you.”  

“Good.” The leader smiled, standing up over Mando. “Now no games. If the code you give me does not open that door, then I will take that helmet, kill your precious Mandalorian slowly, and make you watch. Then I will blow my way through this ship anyway and get the kid, and leave you to die. Do you understand?

“Yes. No games, just promise you won’t hurt him.” You pleaded.

“You have my word.” You knew the word of a hunter like him meant nothing, and when you noticed that Mando’s free hand was reaching slightly for a blade in the side of his pants, you realized you had a plan, one that gave Mando the time he needed to get the upper hand.

“Okay. My code is 827364.” You sighed, you gave the right number up until the last digit. The panel would light green for every correct digit, meaning that until the last moment, he would think that you were right. But you also knew he had to untie you because your bioscan would have timed out. This would hopefully allow you to give Mando some form of help, though you had minimal strength left in your body, you would try.

“Fuck.” He marched back over to you. “Don’t even think of trying anything.” He told you as he untied you from the tree. You realized just how weak you were when you nearly collapsed. You saw Mando twitch at seeing just how bad of shape you were in, but now neither of you had time to do anything about it.

“Looks like you won’t be doing anything even if you wanted to.” He smirked, practically dragging you to the ship panel. He pressed your hand to it, reading your signal. Once he was no longer in need of you, he threw you to the ground away from him.

You groaned as you hit the ground. Watching as he entered the numbers you had given him. You realized he had made a mistake when you saw a blaster that was in your reach.

You put all your effort into stretching just enough to grab it without signalling to him or the others what you were doing. You saw him tap the last number and as soon as the panel turned red you let your blaster shot go off.

The man whose foot had been holding Mando’s hand down was suddenly stumbling back, and hit the ground. Mando wasted no time, his arm coming up and the flames engulfing the two men holding him down.

They screamed in agony as they rolled off the mandalorian. He got to his feet in record time and before the leader could think to retaliate against you, a knife was plunged into his chest.

Mando marched over to him and was above him as he stumbled back into the ship. Without a word he rips the blade out and stabs it back in the other side. The knife is out of him again, this time finding a place in his stomach. Next his thigh, until finally he has enough and with a quick swipe, the man’s neck is sliced open. He tried to helplessly grab at his neck but within moments he was bleeding out on the ground.

You heard three more blaster shots before Mando was in your vision. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.”

You tried to nod, tried to stand up, but your body had given up on you. “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out. If you had only listened to him, you would have been in the ship and not put all of you in such danger.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He told you softly as he wrapped his arms gingerly under you. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“I could have gotten us all killed.” You whined at the pain as he lifted you.

“But you didn’t.” He sighed. He was trying to hold in the worry and anger that was still coursing through his veins. The pain and anger he felt seeing you tied to that tree, the last thing he was worried about had been his creed, and yet, you had. You refused to let them take away something that you didn’t even fully understand and he couldn’t help but love you a little more for that.

While that anger and worry could lead him to taking it out on you, you had disobeyed him, but you also risked your life for him and the child, and he couldn’t be mad at you for that. Instead he left all his anger to the men that were dead outside the ship.

He was as careful as he could be with you as he finally unlocked the ship and walked you up the ramp and quickly laid you on a cot so he could begin to patch you up.

“You saved us.” He adds softly as he notices you slip into sleep. He hoped you would sleep through the worst of the treatments if he was being honest, once he was sure you couldn’t hear him he added, “You saved me.”

[waka-chan-out]

for the mini event: 23 and atsumu please! congrats on 300 you deserve every one of them!

300 Follower Event

Miya Atsumu

Prompt 23: “Wanna make a bet?”

this fic was part of my 300 follower event. check out the rest of the submissions here.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 1.5k

content warnings: established relationship, gamer!atsumu, teasing, hand job, blowjob, atsumu miya continues to be a stubborn bastard and i love him for it

thank you so much anon 🥺 that’s so sweet of you to say. i’m sorry this took a while to write, but i hope you enjoy :)

“I’m telling ya, you’re not gonna beat me.”

“Yeah?” you said, then shoved at Atsumu’s arm. His cart on the screen went flying off of the road and he yelled in frustration.

“You’re cheating’!”

“Street rules, ‘Tsumu. Anything goes.”

“Physical violence wasn’t part of the deal.” He slowly gained speed as you crossed the finish line. You smiled as the screen scrolled through highlights of Atsumu falling off the map and getting hit.

He let out a frustrated groan and jumped on you, pinning you against his couch.

“I don’t like playin’ with you.”

“Why? Cause you lose?”

“A little.”

You ruffled his hair and he buried his face into your chest. He let out another groan, then propped his chin up on your sternum.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah? What’s your idea?”

He grinned.

“Wanna make a bet?”

You carded a hand through his hair.

“What’s the bet?” you asked.

“We play another three tracks. Whoever wins gets to be in charge.”

“In charge of what?”

He smirked.

“You know what.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Can I distract you?” you asked.

“Yes, but I’m going to do the same. And you aren’t allowed to interfere with what the other person is doing. Offense only. No defense.”

“Oh, easy. I’m winning.”

He pushed himself off of you and braced his arms on either side of your head.

“How can you be so confident about this?”

“Because I’m very good at this and you aren’t. I’m going to win.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, sweetheart,” he said. He ran a large hand up your side to gently squeeze around your neck. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.”

You smiled.

“Prove it.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up.

“I will. Don’t cry when ya lose.”

“I don’t think I need to be the one worried about that, ‘Tsumu.”

“Shut up and let me start the game.”

You settled next to him as he opened up the game.

“What track are we playin?” he asked. You leaned over and placed a hand on his inner thigh.

“I don’t care. You choose.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s cheatin’ to start early.”

“Says who?” You sat up on your knees and leaned in, placing a few quick kisses on his neck.

“You’re a pain,” he grumbled.

“You made the deal, babe. Now pick your stupid character.”

He grinned and you groaned.

“Not Waluigi this time!”

“What? I always play him.” He laughed to himself. “Scared the shit out of ‘Samu when we were little.”

“Fine. Remember that when you have to listen to his defeated yells.”

“So competitive. Are you going to be a sore loser when I kick yer ass?”

“You seem confident, babe, but the game is about to start and you haven’t even picked up your remote.”

“Shit!”

Atsumu scrambled to begin as you pulled ahead immediately, laughing as you went.

He shoved you a few times and managed to knock you off of the track once, but you maintained a comfortable lead.

“I don’t think I thought this through,” Atsumu said.

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t do anything while I’m playing besides push you around a little.”

You smiled to yourself and took your hand off of your controller.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I need two hands to play, stupid.”

You grinned and set your hand between his legs.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Jokes on you, now I’m gonna win,” he said. You began to rub him with your hand. He took a deep breath. “Keep that up and you’ll fall off the track.” You laughed.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry about that.” You steered with one hand and continued moving your hand against him. You could feel him getting hard quickly. He always was eager about this kind of thing. Your palm kept consistent pressure on him while your fingers shifted, touching him everywhere you could. He swore and leaned forward, like he was trying to speed up his cart with his mind.

“How the hell am I still behind you?” he said. You smiled and tilted the remote to go around a curve.

“I’m incredibly talented. Give up yet?”

“Absolutely not.” He cursed and fell off the track. You laughed as you rounded the curve to the finish line. He threw up his hands in disbelief and yelled. “How do you do this?”

You set your remote down in your lap and laid a kiss on his shoulder.

“I told you you weren’t going to win.”

“Bullshit. I’ve got you in the next two.”

“Sure you do, babe.” You reached over into his lap and started to unbutton his pants.

“Woah, what’s up?” he said, catching your wrist. You sat up so your eyes were level with his.

“No defense, Miya.”

His face screwed up into a frown and he moved his hand away. You finished undoing his pants and pulled down the front of his boxers.

“Doesn’t this feel like cheating?” he asked. You shook your head and licked your hand. He took a deep breath. “Not at all. You decided on a game. I’m just playing.” You wrapped your hand around him. He swore and made a frustrated face.

“Fuck you. Now I have to win.”

“Good luck with that.” You repositioned the remote in your other hand as the next race started.

Atsumu had a significantly harder time with this track. He ran into wall after wall and fell off the map repeatedly, all while trying to hold in small gasps as you slowly pumped his cock. You did as well as you could while having to keep a steady pace between his legs. It was so fun to watch him squirm, to see his thighs trying to close but realizing that wouldn’t help at all.

You passed the finish line first and pulled your hand away. He gasped at the lack of contact and turned to face you with frustration in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Before you say anything.” You held your hand up between you. “I have a proposal.” He raised his eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“We play an all-or-nothing round.”

He leaned away from you, unsure.

“What’s the catch?”

“New rules. I try to distract you. If you can win against the computer, you win the bet. You don’t, you lose.”

“You’re not playin?”

“Close your eyes.” You avoided the question and he hesitantly complied. You adjusted the settings and handed the controller back to him. “Go ahead and choose the track you’re best at.” He frowned and did as you asked. For the first time in a long time, Atsumu looked nervous.

“Comfortable?” you asked.

“I guess so.”

“Good.” You slid off the couch and settled between his legs.

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

“Start the race or I’ll accept my win.”

He inhaled deeply and pressed start. As the countdown began, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock.

He inhaled shakily and began steering over your head. You closed your eyes and ignored the obnoxious sounds of music and rotating boxes. You didn’t hesitate in setting a quick pace, your lips making lewd noises as you moved. He tried to hold back and pretend it didn’t affect him, but when you ran your tongue around the head again he let out a quiet sound and his character nearly stopped moving.

You had to stop yourself from smiling as you continued, moving your mouth and tongue exactly the way he liked it and hearing him respond as unenthusiastically as he could. You’d never seen him so stubborn, so determined to not show how you affected him.

“Almost . . . done,” he groaned. You quickened your pace, just enough to throw him off. His hand fell from the remote into your hair and tugged slightly. You hollowed out your cheeks and his grip tightened. You were starting to think he might finish until you heard the familiar sound of the race ending. You pulled off of him and wiped your mouth. He stared down at you with pink cheeks and glazed over eyes.

“How’d you do?” you asked. He shook his head lazily like even he didn’t know. You turned around and looked at the screen. You smiled. “First place?”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Pretty good for a guy gettin’ head.”

You smiled and kissed his leg.

“I have to agree with that.”

You moved upwards and straddled him.

“I think I’m okay accepting your win.”

His brows raised. He looked genuinely shocked.

“Are ya serious?”

You pressed a short but heated kiss against his lips. His hands settled on your hips. You pulled back and smiled.

“You won, didn’t you?” You leaned in so your lips were barely brushing his ear. “Now have your way with me.”

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. He looped an arm around your waist and threw you down on the couch, following close behind.

You didn’t tell him you had adjusted all the settings to easy.

[technowoah]

Revolutions Always Fall

You should've learned from L'Manburg. The Butcher Gang was a mistake.

- REQUESTED!

- I tried to put 2 requests in one here.

- its really long 🤧🤞🏽

Prompts!

13) "You made me lose all my faith and trust in you"

38) "They warned me about this.” “About what?” “You.” 

47)“Are you satisfied now...?”

⚠︎ memtions of blood, voilence, fighting, swearing, Technoblade's execution episode. Angst.

Masterlist!

Dear Technoblade,

I wont make the same mistakes again

- an old friend. ♤

Technoblade was always a threat, and you learned that from L'Manburg. You had befriended him when he joined Pogtopia and very quickly you two seemed to click. He saw the world through different eyes and that intrigued you. You wanted to be him, live life the way he does it for just a day.

He was a killing machine, he was smart tactical, but still had the thirst for blood that made him be so smart and tacitcal with how he kills.

You on the other hand were not a big fan of killing, but this war was an exception. This war made you practice, it made you angry, it lit a fire underneath you that you didnt know you had. Along with the other members of Pogtopia, Technoblade helped you fight, how to wield a sword, knife, gun, anything that you can get your hands on you turned it into a weapon, you Soon enough you had mastered weapons and you werent so passive.

You questioned yourself if this was living through Technoblade, the need to fight, hunt, to protect. You felt poweful. As you hold your own crafted swords in your hand you know what you can do. You could do so much damage with this sword, he gave you that sword. It wasn't special at all but you made it special, because in your eyes it was.

"You can do so much with a sword, people just don't know how to use it to its fullest potential. They dont know their full potential either. But now you do."

Thats what he said to you in between those stone walls called Pogtopia.

After what he said to you had done so. Used the sword to your full potential, used anything to your full potential. You wanted to be more and more you became.

"You ready?" Technoblade smirked.

"Hell yeah Im ready to kill that bastard." You smiled

"Woah-oh! You weren't saying this a couple months ago."

"Schlatt deserves it. That's not L'Manburg. This is L'Manburg." You stretched out your arms to the others who were gathering armor and polishing their weapons for the battle yet to come.

You smiled knowing this will all end soon, you wouldn't be in a cave anymore, you wouldn't have to hide the fact that you knew where Wilbur was and that he was planning the attack, Pogtopia will be no more and L'Manburg would be back.

"L'Manburg will be back." You said while taking a sword out of a chest.

"Sure." You heard him scoff beside you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked slightly offended. Wasn't he fighting for the same thing?

"I dont know. Revolutions always fall." He turned his back to you and walked away leaving you to your own thoughts.

You hated it. He was right, he was always right and you hated it. And everyone else did too, they knew he was right. It wasnt what the majority wanted, we wanted L'Manburg while he didn't want to be held by government in the first place. That's what he meant that day in Pogtopia.

L'Manburg, one defeated, was now growing once more. After the "end" of L'Manburg you couldn't forgive him. Your anger and the feeling of betrayal kept growing and growing everyday, every time you picked up that damned sword he gave you. It was the best sword you had, you had enchanted it multiple times. You had to use it, but the only thing was the memories that came with it.

Your anger only worsened as time went on, having to hear about Technoblade and how he was such a threat to L'Manburg only made you want to destroy him and the past you two had created. That would be the closure you needed, but someone was already three steps a head of you.

In spite of your anger you and Quackity had the most magnificent idea to make a gang to finally kill Technoblade for the sake of L'Manburg. The idea was to go confront him at his house and take him back to L'Manburg for an execution. You were on board with the idea 100%. This was better for L'Manburg and better for yourself, finally someone who got you.

Quackity and you planned tirelessly to try and get Technoblade's location and bring him back. The Butcher Gang was made from the cabinet of L'Manburg. During these long days you two grew closer, you two were so different in ways of thinking, but you two shared the same end goal which worked out in your favor. You two went through hell and back just to find out that the easiest way to get to Technoblade was sitting in L'Manburg right at that moment. Philza, some may say Technoblade's only friend at the moment. He was loyal to Technoblade and you dont blame him at all, but you needed to find out where his companion was.

It was all going well, the Butcher Gang had put Phil on house arrest and Tubbo had found a compass that led them straight to Technoblade's location. Everything was going well and according to plan, you didnt want to show it on your face as you saw Technoblade's house from the spot in the woods the Butcher Gang was hiding in, but you wanted this so badly. You didnt where he was going to be, he could've came and bestowed more destruction. It was like knowing he was there, but not knowing when he was going to strike.

The anxiety that came with not knowing where Technoblade was always with you, but now it wont be.

The Butcher Gang ended up taking Technoblade by force back into the city. You were proud that you were all able to get the blood hungry pig-man to come back with you all. He was behind bars with an anvil hanging high over his head. As Tubbo gave his speech your short lived happiness soon faded as a man appeared and smoke filled the area. You started to get attacked by what seemed like Dream and Punz while Tubbo continued to yell for Quackity to pull the lever to finally kill Technoblade.

"Pull the lever Big Q!"

"Kill him Quackity!" You yelled with him.

He did it. The anvil fell fast towards Technoblade's body, but as fast as the anvil landed on him his skin, bones, and blood regenerate and return to its normal state. Your eyes widened as the totem in his hand began to disintegrate into gold dust.

"DAMMIT!" You yelled in agony while Ranboo and Fundy continued to fend off Dream and Punz until they retreated.

Once they did you realized Technoblade was gone, you saw him in the distance running away from the scene, but you couldn't let this happen. You couldn't let the fear of Technoblade being out there doing God knows what forever. The fear of him boiled in your heart as you broke out into a sprint towards Technoblade.

As you ran into a more secluded area you heard footsteps behind you. You glances back to see Quackity following your lead with an axe in his hand. Slowing down a bit you both ran side by side.

"Let's get this son of a bitch!" Quackity huffed as you both came across a cave.

You both knew Technoblade was in there so you both prepared for the mental and physical pain you would both endure. This wasn't like the Butcher Gang where it was 5 against 1, it was 2 against 1 and you've seen Technoblade fight this fight before.

"You ready to kill this bastard?" He calmed his breathing down.

"Of course I am." You kept your eyes foward.

You walked deep into tha cave to see 6 chests and a sign that said "final control room", that bastard. Wanting to be quiet you tried to sneak up on Technoblade, but Quackity's anger got the best of him.

"What the fuck is this Technoblade?! What the hell are you doing here?" He asked gripping his sword too tight.

"It not what it looks like." Technoblade airly laughed. He had an enchanted pickaxe in his hand and an open chest with netherite armor.

"How the hell did that anvil not kill you?!" Quackity yelled.

Technoblade started laughing, he was laughing, he was taunting us. "Do you really think that death can stop me? That you could kill me that easily."

Your emotions tried to get the best of you as you tried not to let frustrated tears fall onto your cheeks.

"How did you do it? What... How did you even do that?"

"You think that can stop me Quackity?" Technoblade asked again.

"Just answer the fucking question!" You yelled before either of them could speak. It was silent for a while before Technoblade slowly spoke up.

"A totem. I used a totem of undying. I always have it on me." He smugly said.

He continued on. "You know what?! You know what? Ive got a lot to say, I was gonna say it at the trial, but we got a little bit interrupted. You know I tried convincing you guys that government was not the answer, the government was actually the cause of all your problems!"

You rolled your eyes as he continued his infamous speech.

"I tried to convince you guys by fighting alongside you as brothers and you cast me aside, you used me. I tried to use force, but you still formed a government! And when I went into hiding, when I retired, when I swore off violence, you hunted me down, you hurt my friends." Technoblade finished.

"Techno you dont understand what we're fighting for!" You started finally finding your voice. "I thought you were for us! You were always against us!"

"I was always for you! I needed you guys to understand!"

"We needed YOU to under-"

Technoblade interrupted you. "You dont understand me! You never did!"

"At least I fucking tried and you gave me so much shit for it! I wanted to be you Technoblade. I wanted to see life through your eyes, I was fascinated by how you walk, fight, your mind."

Your anger began to subside as you continued to speak. "But, you made me lose all my faith and trust in you."

Technoblade laughed again. "Same here! You guys left me! Betrayed me so-"

"So the feeling is mutual." You growled.

It was quite for a minute, but you could feel Quackity's sympathetic stare as you poured your feelings out to a man who dosen't even matter to you.

"They warned me about this." Your arms gestured to the area the three of you were in.

"About what?" Technoblade scoffed.

"About you." You stared at Technoblade. It wasn't a glare, it was more calm.

"Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy...Even Ranboo." You airly chuckled.

You had stopped talking trying to get yourself back together. Quackity caught that you weren't talking anymore so he spoke up.

"What we have up there is a country and what we need here is organization and power. And I dont care how long it fucking takes me or what I have to do to get you Techno. Im going to fucking kill you. Im going to kill you Technoblade." Quackity gripped his axe in his hand.

"I just have one question Quackity." Techno smirked.

"What do you have?" Quackity responded and you took the sword out of the sheath hanging on your hip.

"Do you think you two are enough to kill me? Even unarmed with iron armor?" Technoblade closed the chest that held netherite armor signaling he didn't need that. "Do you think you both could take me?"

"Oh we do." You spoke up. "We need this, Technoblade."

"You know what?" Quackity rose his axe and you followed suit. "Lets find out you son of a bitch!" He charged towards Technoblade and you followed close behind.

Technoblade started running out of the long cave, but you two followed. He threw potions on the ground as he turned around and fought us head on. You were able to get a couple of cuts and hits on him, but he was cutting you more with his pickaxe.

The thing about Quackity was that he thought he was invincible. He kept going full force towards Technoblade, hopefully he would focus on him so you could finally get a critical hit on him. Your heart rate kicked up as your face came too close to his pickaxe. And it kept going, each swing he took towards you became closer and closer until Quackity slashed his arm with his axe.

Technoblade whipped his head his way. "I have a pickaxe and I'll put it right through your teeth!"

Technoblade swung his axe and slashed Quackity's face, including his eye. He then turned his pickaxe to the flat side and swung it, hitting the side of his head. The blow to his head sent him flying against one of the walls of the cave, knocking him out.

He then turned to you and in a flash you could tatse the metal of his pickaxe as it swiped across your face blinding one of your eyes as well as Quackity's. He had hit you on the side of the head like he did with Quackity. Your body was aching as you fell to the ground, your mind slowly shutting down. You were loosing a lot of blood quickly, and so was Quackity. You two knew you were going to find the strength to get out of this cave and follow Technoblade's path out.

You laid on the cave's cold floor realizing that this was a mistake. You were too loyal, easily swayed, you were a follower. You never knew when to stop, from L'Manburg to Pogtopia to The Butcher Gang you seeked things you couldn't have. You couldn't have L'Manburg, neither Pogtopia, you couldn't kill Technoblade and ease your fears snd anxieties. You need to seek that some where else.

Your mind began to slip, and you fell into unconsciousness.

You should've learned. He was right. Revolutions always fall.

The Butcher Gang was a mistake.

Dear Technoblade,

I remembered the day. It still pains me. The day you spawned those wither. I thought you were the traitor, but turns out I was wrong at the time. Im sorry for that.

I also remember when you left me for dead. But I made it out as you see.

But now I am resigning from L'Manburg. Im going my own way, my own path, and I don't want you on my path.

Think of this as closure, something I never got. As I am writing this I dont know why I am giving you closure, lifting a weight off of your shoulders, you dont deserve it.

I know people say that to you alot.

You really made a dent in this damned place.

I hate what you're doing. You get to live in solitude while we get to live in the debris you left here. I wanted to be like you.

I hate to say it, but I learned a lot from you. I hated what I learned, about myself, about you, about the current state of this horrible place.

I wont make the same mistakes again

Are you satisfied now?

- an old friend ♤

[renaerys]

Has anyone said “38. That ass is highly unprofessional” for Reds yet? Because I feel like the comedy potential is enormous

38. “That ass is highly unprofessional.”

There are far too many good scenarios for this excellent prompt and idk if I picked the best one, but an effort was made. 🤡

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

Blossom watched from across the room as Brick fist-bumped the head delegate from the China team. He’d been cagey and weirdly subdued all morning, but the moment the unmoderated caucus began, he slinked away without anyone noticing. Anyone, that is, except Blossom.

“Russia? You were saying?”

Blossom snapped the pencil she’d been holding between her fingers. Denmark leaned back and slowly pulled the cup full of fresh pencils out of her reach. “What? Oh, right. I’m proposing we form a sub-committee to begin formal negotiations.”

“No way, we don’t negotiate with terrorists,” said Canada. “Terrestrial or otherwise.”

The United States stood up and palmed his fist. “Agreed. I say we nuke ‘em before they can nuke us.”

“Oh, sure, great idea, Rambo. This is Model UN, not Independence Day.”

“Wow, super in-character of you, Switzerland. Why are you even here?”

Blossom put up her hand. “We have no idea if the aliens are terrorists. I agree that we can’t discount the possibility of hostile intent, but violence should not be our opening move.”

“Crisis update!” A staffer handed Canada a red envelope, which she read aloud to the gathered students-cum-delegates. The aliens had parked one of their space ships on the Xi’an city wall, destroying a huge chunk of it and killing some civilians, and China was using it as justification to attack with full force.

“Oh my god, I think we might actually be in Independence Day,” Canada said.

“Recess! I’m calling for a recess.” Blossom left the table as the United States, Canada, and a gaggle of European Union countries began to squabble.

She found Brick talking to Israel and Argentina. The minute he saw her coming, he excused himself from the conversation and walked the other way.

“Brick! I know you saw me.” Blossom followed him to the all-gender restrooms, where he was fixing his hair in the mirror. “What are you doing?”

“About to take a gratuitous shit. You might want to get out of here.”

She grabbed his elbow and spun him toward her. “I’m talking about your side conversations. What were you doing talking to China without me?”

“Russia’s a big country, and you looked busy doing your thing. I’m just doing mine.”

“And what, exactly, is your thing?” She peered at him. “I swear to god, if that KGB comment this morning wasn’t a joke and I find out you’ve been threatening the other delegates behind my back—”

“Relax, comrade,” he patted her shoulder, “before you pop a seam in your pencil skirt.”

Blossom could not help but check out her ass in the mirror now that he’d brought it up. Of course, he was also checking out her ass, because he was an uncouth jerk who knew exactly how to get under her skin, and now Blossom was at an impasse. If she told him off, she’d be giving him exactly what he wanted, which was to make her snap and froth. If she did nothing, he’d still win with the knowledge that he’d pissed her off and gotten the last word in to boot.

Much like with terrorists, when it came to dealing with teenage boys, negotiation was not an option; the only solution was total annihilation.

Blossom placed a hand on her hip and stuck her ass out more as she examined herself in the mirror. “You mean, this pencil skirt?”

Brick’s smile fell in defeat like so many doomed German aggressors marching into the heart of Russian winter. “Obviously.”

Perish, you fool.

“Did you see a loose thread somewhere around here?” She turned slightly and ran her finger along the side seam of her skirt in an unbridled act of hormonal militarism. “Or was it on this side?”

Brick rested his weight on the counter because he was weak and cornered and they both knew it.

“No?” She smiled. “Just your imagination, then. We better get back to the conference.”

She made it halfway to the door when Brick hauled his wounded carcass away from the sink counter and desperately fired back with: “Disgraceful tactics, honestly.”

“Me? I’m not the one committing treason and encouraging intergalactic warfare.”

“Hey, I signed up for global warming and nuclear proliferation, not this made up Men in Black bullshit. If aliens attacked we’d just blast them ourselves, no negotiation necessary, we can all go home.”

“Oh my god, so you admit you intentionally sabotaged the exercise! I knew it. You are highly unprofessional.”

“That ass is highly unprofessional!”

“Stop thinking about my ass!”

“I literally fucking cannot after that!”

Blossom fumed. “Are you saying I’m asking for it?”

“I’m saying how dare you expect me not to think about how good your ass looks in that skirt!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? Well, I’m so sorry for looking amazing in Western business professional!”

“Apology accepted!”

“Good!”

“Great!”

“Fantastic!”

“Wonderful!”

“Incredible!”

“Superb!”

“Glorious!”

“Brilliant!"

Blossom had at least fifteen more increasingly positive synonyms that she could have screamed at Brick, but Denmark popped his head in just as she was getting ready to shout stupendous at top volume.

“Um, hi. We’re taking a vote on what to do about the aliens and we need Russia’s vote, so…yeah.”

The vote was close and also meaningless, since China and several allies acted on their own against the aliens, who of course retaliated and gave the United States carte blanche to bust out the big guns. By the end of the conference, half the world’s population had been eradicated by nuclear weapons or alien technology. It was a complete and total disaster, and Blossom had no idea how she was going to explain it to her Model UN club coach when she got back to Townsville.

“Told you we should have just fought the aliens ourselves,” Brick said as they packed up their things for the flight back home.

“Please stop talking. It makes it harder for me to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Still wearing the skirt, I see.”

Blossom threw her water bottle at him, which was both very childish and very unsatisfying when he caught it. “I’m going to wear pencil skirts every day for the rest of the semester just for you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I dare.”

“I’ll drop out.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’ll check out your ass every day.”

“Go ahead.”

“I will.”

“Great, because I want you to.”

“Great, because I want to!”

“I’m going to look so good!”

“I completely agree!”

They stormed out of the conference center together.

“See you on Monday,” Blossom said in her best die in a trash heap voice.

“You better wear a skirt,” Brick said as if he’d just invited her to jump into an active volcano.

“I absolutely will.”

“I can’t wait.”

Blossom swallowed a scream and took off flying, knowing she’d be there all day if he didn’t get the last word in.

xxx

“Dude, are you okay? You’ve been aggressively staring at Blossom’s ass all morning.”

Brick sucked on his straw loud enough to draw Blossom’s annoyed glance. “Fuck off, Harry.”

“Are you, like, into her?”

She turned her back to him and power posed with her hands on her hips, which was an extremely flattering angle and a high-key bitch move. “I despise her.”

Harry smiled. “Oh, cool! Cool cool cool… Hey, so I was wondering who I should ask to Homecoming—”

“No.”

“But I just thought since you don’t—”

“No.”

Harry finally fucked off.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

[winterscaptain]

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?” 

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile. 

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement. 

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…” 

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask. 

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.” 

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?” 

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship. 

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you. 

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?” 

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire. 

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you. 

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents. 

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner. 

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure. 

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other. 

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall. 

This is fun. 

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.” 

+++. 

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU. 

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment. 

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.” 

That doesn’t sound good. 

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates. 

No pressure. 

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.” 

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.” 

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales. 

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side. 

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.” 

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss. 

What the fuck? 

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which. 

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are. 

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch. 

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes. 

Not what I expected.

What did you expect? 

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe? 

Shut up. 

He’s handsome. 

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.” 

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.” 

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?” 

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it. 

It might be. 

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless. 

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner. 

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much. 

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen. 

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. 

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?” 

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you. 

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely. 

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.” 

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow. 

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.” 

That pulls a laugh from you. 

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.” 

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room. 

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details. 

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places. 

He wants them found, and fast. 

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors? 

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.” 

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin. 

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs. 

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat. 

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do. 

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch. 

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way. 

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.” 

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.” 

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable. 

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical. 

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -” 

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.” 

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.” 

It’s not a question. 

You’re confused. 

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.” 

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for. 

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made. 

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.” 

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them. 

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long. 

To your credit, you ignore them. 

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot. 

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else. 

“I’m liking it,” you reply. 

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.” 

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.” 

“I am terrified.” 

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -” 

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.” 

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.” 

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.” 

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.” 

“What’s the other half?” 

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.” 

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office. 

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime. 

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files. 

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.” 

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head. 

“Then...what?” 

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.” 

+++

“Hey, Derek?” 

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice. 

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?” 

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?” 

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.” 

You wait on him, watching him watch the road. 

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.” 

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp. 

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.” 

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.” 

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.” 

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch? 

Because he’s the unit chief. 

I know but…

Don’t read into it. 

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed. 

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.” 

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk. 

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure. 

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on. 

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going. 

There’s nothing to complain about. 

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative. 

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after. 

It’s not in their nature, or his. 

He starts to type. 

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon. 

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates. 

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny. 

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about. 

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing. 

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past. 

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same. 

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute. 

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet. 

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work. 

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent. 

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings. 

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic. 

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.”  He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case. 

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?” 

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch. 

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after. 

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried. 

“Too long,” he supplies. 

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair. 

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression. 

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials. 

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up. 

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork. 

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head). 

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning. 

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file. 

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself. 

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners. 

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…” 

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Good job in the briefing, today.” 

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table. 

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.” 

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch. 

Success. 

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.” 

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.” 

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.” 

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.” 

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.” 

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip. 

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?” 

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. - 

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz. 

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.” 

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?” 

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -” 

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.” 

“Good.” 

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -” 

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.” 

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner. 

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you. 

Maybe you could just get used to this place.   

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink. 

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep. 

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon. 

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light. 

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife. 

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “ 

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...” 

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.” 

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.  

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation. 

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity. 

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.” 

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone. 

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent. 

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.” 

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can. 

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.” 

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it. 

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.” 

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure. 

You are sure, though, that this was a test. 

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense. 

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.” 

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?” 

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.” 

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable. 

Hotch is...safe. Somehow. 

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.” 

“What?” 

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?” 

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.” 

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file. 

“He’s right.” 

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?” 

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.” 

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.” 

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in. 

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook. 

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised. 

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -” 

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone. 

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?” 

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.” 

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk. 

She calls him Aaron. 

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name. 

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted. 

Aaron. 

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can. 

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.” 

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it? 

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting. 

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time. 

None of your business. 

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again. 

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport. 

You can do this. 

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.” 

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?” 

Humor. Play off her disappointment. 

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.” 

To your surprise, she laughs a little. 

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering. 

Success. 

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?” 

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues - 

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.” 

“Of course.” 

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing. 

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?” 

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask. 

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room. 

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look up. 

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.” 

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.” 

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.” 

This is above my pay grade. 

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -” 

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?” 

He shakes his head. “Any advice?” 

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade. 

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate. 

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles. 

Separate from the things that make him human. 

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home. 

It must be lonely. 

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally. 

Well, all except Emily. 

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you. 

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words. 

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say. 

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?” 

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.” 

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear. 

Another part of you already knows the answer. 

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you. 

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board. 

“What’s with that?” 

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.” 

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.” 

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.” 

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.” 

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread. 

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself. 

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly. 

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down. 

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months. 

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. 

I live in a circus. 

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again. 

Fuck it. 

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate. 

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” 

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.” 

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body. 

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?” 

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.” 

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board. 

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice. 

You turn. “Yeah?” 

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room. 

“Did she ever what?” 

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.” 

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door. 

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily. 

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before. 

This isn’t good. 

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense. 

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley. 

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours. 

She texts back after a minute. 

5:43pm Thanks. 

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case. 

Your eyes wander across the cabin. 

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window. 

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading. 

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched. 

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails. 

“Emily.” 

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding. 

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history. 

You know better. It’s just clouds. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny. 

5:58pm How’s it going? 

You huff a little laugh down your nose. 

5:58pm Rough day. 

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?” 

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.” 

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.” 

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze. 

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You should go, if she’s offering.” 

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.” 

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. 

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps. 

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs. 

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel. 

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.” 

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell. 

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch. 

“What happened?” 

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.” 

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?” 

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.” 

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.” 

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.” 

“How’s your team?” 

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…” 

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country. 

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?” 

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.” 

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder. 

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark. 

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net. 

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?” 

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere. 

Weird. 

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door. 

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little. 

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?” 

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off. 

Far from it. 

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.” 

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile. 

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.” 

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?” 

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.” 

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad​ @angelsbabey​ @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid​ @captain-christopher-pike​ @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em​ @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @dreila03​ @forgottenword​ @aaronhotchnerr​ @ssa-morgan​ @sana-li​ @tegggeeee​ @abschaffer2​ @ssacandice-ray​ @ellyhotchner​ @lotties-journey-abroad​ @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ @mooneylupinblack​ @ssareidbby​ @bwbatta​ @roses-and-grasses​ @capricorngf​ @missdowntonabbey​ @averyhotchner​ @mandylove1000​ @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor​ @spencers-hoodrat​ @popped-weasels​ @evee87​ @nuvoleincielo​ @this-broken-band-girl​ @reidtomestyles​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @winqhster​ @the-falling-in-the-danger​ @iconicc​ @mangoberry43​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @kerrswriting​ @mac99martin​ @itsalwaysb33nyou​ @baumarvel​ @messyhairday-me​ @ssworldofsw​  @deagibs​ @crazyshannonigans​ @moonshinerbynight​ @jhiddles03​ @teamhappyme​ @mendesmelodies​ @starsandasteroids​ @unicorn-bitch​ @ambicaos​ @bispences​

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​ @dunderr​ @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​ @mbpokemonrulez​  @oloreaa​ @red-leaders​ @speakerforthedead0​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ @theflightytemptressadventure​ @ubri812​ @zoemariefit​​

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face. 

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no. 

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback. 

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.  

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing. 

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor. 

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand. 

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Star-Spangled Man (Steve Rogers X Reader) CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Swearing, tad of violence, (Spoilers: Enemies to lovers) 

Summary: You and Cap really don’t get along. Like give each other migraines don’t get along. But when a mission goes south and the both of you are literally trapped together, will true feelings be revealed? 

A/N: This is for @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ Captain America: The First Avenger 10th Anniversary Challenge! An awesome challenge if you want to get involved the link to the prompts is here.

Prompt: Well if it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan! And what’s your plan today?

My Master List / Challenge Master List (Because we love supporting other people’s work!) 

You weren’t exactly sure what Fury was thinking when he practically forced to join the Avengers. He knew you didn’t exactly get along with them. Well correction you liked and got along with Nat and Clint. Bruce was also nice, Thor too. However stark was incredibly annoying and nobody pissed you off like Captain America.

The hatred towards the star spangled man was based off of the fact he had the biggest ego and a stick up his ass. The first time you ever had to go on a mission with him it nearly end-ed in a physical fight between the two of you. You were swearing at him as Nat and Clint dragged you away.

Before you met him you actually really admired the guy. He was one of your favourite history topics in school and you could remember arguing with your friends over which of the howling commandos was the cutest. And yes you may have favoured the Captain. So when you first got the opportunity to work with him you were so excited. The excitement was soon replaced by frustration when he questioned every choice you made and would treat you like a rookie. Despite you working with Shield well before he defrosted.

Quite often post mission you’d be in the gym working out your anger, either via target practice or a punching bag. This is where you currently were, you hadn’t been on a mission. Steve had just managed to piss you off in general.

Every bullet you fired you grumbled to yourself stating everything Steve had done to aggravate you.

“Surprised you didn’t add a star on the chest and an A on the head” Nat says grabbing your attention.

“I was tempted but that was too much effort, my imagination is good enough” you tell her not taking her eyes off the target as you shot another couple rounds.

“What did he do this time?” Nat asks picking up her own gun to join you.

“Same old same old, being hard ass about everything. Like seriously who does he think he is, insinuating I can’t do simple things. I’ve been doing this shit for years, well before he came out of the ice” you grumbled reloading your gun.

“I don’t know why Fury put me here, he knows I hate working with him yet he won’t let me leave” you add firing another round.

“Well you’re a good addition to the team and he was probably hoping you’d kick rogers down a peg or two” Nat tells you as she shoots a couple shots.

You shake your head at the idea “doubt it that man’s head is stuck so far up his own ass, he’s practically inside out. It’s impressive he even got it up there considering his inflated ego” you tell her making Nat laugh.

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks? You’ve never cared about what people think before” Nat asks putting her gun down turning to face you.

You turn to face her an incredulous look on your face “I don’t care what he thinks, i know my worth” you state.

“Good because Fury wants you and him to go on a mission together” Nat tells you with a smile.

“Fuck off” you groan shaking your head.

“Briefing is in 5 minutes, it’s my plan so it shouldn’t be too tedious for you” Nat says knowingly taking your gun from you.

“I hate you” you grumble as you follow her out of the gym.

“No you don’t” Nat laughs.

As soon as you walk into the conference room you see Steve sat down at the table.

“Nat no” he complains when he saw you.

“Yes Steve now suck it up” Nat states as you say down beside him.

“Okay the deal is that this arms dealer is throwing this gala. We’re pretty certain that it’s a front for a sale, but either way we need information” nat says pulling up the information on the target.

“Okay so we’ll-“ Steve starts but nat interrupts him.

“The plan is already in place Steve, you two are going in while the target is distracted (Y/N) will go in and get any information possible, while you keep on eye on the target ” nat ex-plains.

“Won’t they know us?” You ask her.

“No you’re still relatively unknown, a simple wig should suffice. Steve however we’ll dye your hair and you need to grow a beard. One last thing... your aliases are gonna be married” nat explains.

“No Nat, come on” Steve says complaining instantly.

“Yes Steve, this is the best way yo get both in there” Nat intersects.

You grumbled to yourself also not liking the idea. You disliked that fact Steve wasn’t happy about it either. Did he really despise you that much. Did he not think you could do it. You clenched your jaw sitting up in your chair.

“When do we go” you ask not missing the incredulous look Steve gave you.

You weren’t enjoying this mission at all. You thought Stark parties were bad enough but at least they were entertaining. This gala was incredibly boring, your company did not help. You had to try your hardest not to look up at Steve in disgust. Especially since you were sup-posed be married. Did kinda help that his blond hair was coloured brown and he’d grown a beard to help hide his identity.

Whenever the two of you walked around the gala he’d have his hand on your lower back. You had to try and not flinch at the spark like feeling whenever he did it. The two of you were currently at the bar, Steve had his arm around your shoulders as you looked around for your target.

“On the dance floor” Steve states flatly.

You have to try and not snap at him as your back bristles and you look over to the dance floor to see your target.

“I saw him” you lie grabbing your glass of wine and taking a large sip.

“Why you still looking around them” Steve retorts with a small scoff.

“Because I’m trying to be subtle unlike someone” you spit glaring up at him.

Steve doesn’t say anything but clenches his jaw and you feel his arm around you tense.

You down the rest of your drink before grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him towards the dance floor. You turn to face him placing a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his other hand and placing it on your hip.

“Try and not look so uncomfortable” you tell him as the two of you begin to dance and you see him visibly gulp.

“I’m not uncomfortable” he grumbles looking over your shoulder.

“He’s on the move” Steve tells you.

You glance over your shoulder to see your target moving over to the bar.

“It looks like the deal is going down, keep an eye on him while I snoop around” you tell him not waiting for him to protest as you walked away.

You made your way to the targets office, which was surprisingly and stupidly not monitored. Slipping inside you start looking through all the drawers taking photos of everything.

You pause for a moment when you realise how easy this all was. It shouldn’t be this easy right? You push that thought down, your target clearly was an idiot considering the lack of security. This was your job of course you’d find it easy.

You were just about to leave when guards burst through the door quickly surrounding you.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I was just looking for the bathroom” you say playing innocent as you held up your hands.

You see your target walk through the door with a smirk on his face. Where the hell was Steve!

“Give up the act sweetheart, you and cap couldn’t sell being a married couple” he tells you.

You move to make your escape but two large guards grab you quickly pinning you to the floor.

“Maybe but he won’t let you get away with this” you warn him with gritted teeth.

“Maybe but I don’t think he’ll be a problem” the guy states bending down beside you “take her away” he orders.

You try to fight but you feel a sharp prick in your neck and your limbs start to grow heavy. You try and fight the effects of whatever they injected you with but it was no use and you soon slumped in the guards arms.

When you woke back up it felt like you had the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. Sitting up you found your hands and ankles tied together. The room you were in definitely wasn’t the same place as the gala. It was a cold and damp cement cell with no windows.

You tried to free yourself but the it was no use the restraints weren’t budging. You were just hoping that the team knew something was wrong and were trying to find you. You had no clue where Steve was, you assumed he got out but you weren’t sure. Either way you weren’t happy with him, since he was supposed to watching your back.

You question was soon answered when the door to your cell opened and two large guards threw a restrained Steve into the cell.

“Well if it isn’t the star-spangled man with a plan! And what’s your plan today?” You state glaring over at him as he shuffled to a sitting position opposite you.

“Shut up” he grumbled.

“No seriously Steve what’s the plan because we wouldn’t be here if you were watching my back” you argue.

“I was watching your back!” Steve argues back.

“Then how the hell are we in the situation Steve! And you can’t blame me like you normally do because I followed the plan exactly” you yell glaring over at him.

“I don’t always blame you” Steve grumbles shaking his head.

“Yes you do! I don’t know why you hate me so much Steve! But you’re constantly on my case, insinuating I’m doing something wrong or that I’m bad at my job! It’s exhausting!” You cry out swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat. You looked away as your emotions began to get the better of you.

You hear Steve sigh deeply “I’m just trying to keep everyone safe” he says.

“Then why do you treat me differently to everyone else! You aren’t like this with Nat or Clint or even Tony!” You exclaim refusing to look at him.

“Because I don’t care about them as much as I care about you” you hear steve says quietly.

You look back over at him shocked, watching as he refuses to meet your eyes. Looking down at his restraints his fists clenching and unclenching.

“What?” You ask quietly.

“It’s nothing I know you hate me so just forget it okay” he sighs shaking his head sadly.

“Try me” you push making him look up at you.

“I’m on at you so much because if something happened to you I wouldn’t know what to do with myself” Steve admits shaking his head.

You look over at him lost for words at his admission.

“Steve I-“ you start unable to finish your train of thought let alone your sentence.

“It’s fine, I know you hate me its why i guess I’ve been a bit cold towards you. It was easier to pretend to hate you than let myself get hurt” Steve sighs.

“I don’t hate you, you irritate me yeah but I don’t hate you” you tell him making him scoff in disbelief.

“I’m serious, you know before we started working together I admired you, still do if I’m honest. Everything you did in the war and New York. So when I thought you didn’t think I was good enough it hurt because I did want to please you. I only had a problem with you because I thought you had a problem with me” you explain shrugging your shoulders with a sigh.

You hear Steve chuckle slightly “so you’re telling me that all this time we’ve caused each other headaches wasn’t because we hate each other” he says.

“Yep” you agree with a chuckle.

Silence falls between the two of you and you start to mull over what he said properly.

“Steve when you said you cared about me?” You start making Steve look over at you with a small nod.

“Is that care as in friend care? Or care as in more than friends care?” You ask him.

You watch him bit his lips slightly, and you knew he’d probably be scratching the back of his neck if he could.

“As in more than friends” Steve answers looking down avoiding your gaze and you could feel your heart flutter.

You nod your head taking in the new bit of information. You mind starts to replay moments that at the time you thought were only happening because of your distaste towards Steve. But maybes they were because deep down you actually really liked him. Like when you’d feel sparks whenever he touched you.

“Good, because I feel the same” you tell him making him look back at you surprised.

“Really?” He asks.

You nod your head before shuffling over towards him until you were knelt beside him. Lift-ing your hands as best as you could you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips hesitantly against his.

He instantly responds kissing you back, you could feel him trying to move his hands to you but his restraints stop him.  You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss. Yeah you liked him, you definitely 100% liked him.

The two of you were so preoccupied you missed the sounds of the team coming to rescue you until the cell door opened and you were met with the sight of Tony looking down at you.

“Not a word Stark” the both of you warn simultaneously.

“Not a word just glad the sexual tension finally amounted to something”  Tony says walking in and freeing the both of you.

You just rolled your eyes at him and Steve scoffed quietly.

“The team have the base pretty much secured so we just got to get you to the jet” Tony explains as the three of you start walking out.

Steve halts grabbing your hand also pulling you to a stop. You raise a brow looking up at him about the question him but you don’t get a chance before he grabs you by the hips and crashes his lips against yours.

You smile into the kiss wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him closer. You hear tony groan in annoyance but you really don’t care. You were enjoying kissing Steve far too much.

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